by Dana Marton
He pulled back inch by inch, moving down her body. Her shirt must have come untucked and her skin exposed, because soon she could feel his hot breath on her belly. Something twitched deep inside her. She closed her eyes and tried thinking of icebergs.
She also did her best to keep her breathing even. A sudden adrenaline rush was the sort of thing that usually sent her emotions careening out of control, bringing back gruesome visions of battle, unbalancing her. Except, this time all she could think of was Ryder on top of her.
“Turn on your stomach and back up on all fours,” he recommended when he retreated to a safe spot.
She groaned, but shifted slowly onto her stomach. Her knees burned where the gravel had scraped off the skin. Her ribs ached. She shook off the pain and focused on what she needed to do, checking for more loose rocks that could mean trouble. Her head was over the edge and she could see down; the edge of the rock hung out over some kind of a small cavern.
The entrance looked as if it might have been natural, but from her position she could see in a couple of yards, could see the four-by-fours that provided structural support a few feet in. It almost looked like the entrance to an old mine shaft, except, as far as she knew, there’d never been any mining anywhere around here.
Her stomach sank as she swore under her breath. “I think I found the tunnel.”
A moment of tense silence passed.
“Don’t think about that now. Just move back carefully,” he said.
She did, while he did his best to guide her, then he pulled her up and held on to her maybe a little longer than was necessary.
He stepped away abruptly. “Let me see that tunnel.” He went around her and eased out onto the ledge, lay on his stomach and looked down. Whistled. “Nice catch. We would have never found that. About two feet by four, has structural supports. I can only see in a few yards. Looks like it goes around the ravine.”
“But how do people climb up? Women and children. In the night.”
He looked for a few seconds. “They don’t. They climb down. They have the plateau in front of the entrance, then if they go sideways there’s a ledge at least two feet wide, wider in places. They go to the bottom of the ravine, then walk north to the end of it and walk out as the bottom slopes up.”
He eased back to her, to a spot where he could safely stand, then reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of muscles.
“What are you doing?” She stepped back, too quickly, stopping herself before she could tumble again.
“I’m going to save the GPS coordinates, but I want to mark the exact spot, too. I don’t have anything else.”
“Hold on.” She wasn’t sure she could handle the ride back with him half-naked on the horse behind her. “Let me.”
She unbuttoned her top two buttons then yanked the shirt over her head. She had a tank top underneath.
He stared at her in a funny kind of way.
She lay the red shirt on the ground and put a large rock in the middle so the wind wouldn’t blow it away. She glanced toward the edge where they’d nearly fallen to their death. “This is plain dangerous.”
“Very dangerous,” he murmured behind her.
Chapter Six
“The area is too big. We’d need the help, not to mention permission from the Mexican Army to search it,” Ryder said into his headset, sitting behind the monitor at the office, linked to satellite maps. He noted down a half-dozen coordinates where the other end of the tunnel might be on the opposite side of the border.
Since he was good at multitasking, he also gave some thought to how good Grace had felt under him the week before on that ledge at the ravine. She had curves her no-nonsense, practical clothes did a good job of hiding, curves that made him want to embark on a more thorough discovery.
When she’d taken her shirt off… Wowza. His fingers had itched to grab her tank top and send it after the shirt. He wanted to see her, to touch her, her skin under his fingertips.
Not that something like that could ever happen.
He was in the market for a wife, not a rash affair. He was going to build a family.
As soon as this nasty business was over.
He didn’t like the fact that he had to remind himself of those plans more and more frequently these days.
“Half of those guys are on the take from the smugglers. We can no more involve them than we can involve people on our side,” Shep said on the other end of the line. He was in the field while Ryder was stuck behind the desk.
He took one last look on the screen at the Mexican side of the border, then scrolled the map and zoomed in on the Cordero ranch. He considered where the strategic positions would have to be set up to capture the men his team hunted. Mo and Ray were out there right now, doing recon, observing, making in-field notes they could pass on to Colonel Wilson at the team’s Washington headquarters.
Grace had been out there again this morning. She’d volunteered to consult with them on the ranch’s topography. Since she’d found the entrance, they’d had at least two men on detail at the tunnel every night, hidden at a safe distance. At this stage, they were just observing, not engaging.
They wouldn’t want to tip their hand. They didn’t want anyone to know that the tunnel’s location had been discovered. They wanted the terrorist bastards to come through there, instead of changing plans and possibly sneaking through at another place. The bastards couldn’t be allowed to slip through, under any circumstances.
He kept working the map. “Smugglers have a regular route right across the Cordero ranch, no doubt about it.”
“We need to figure out how big the volume is. Does it go beyond human trafficking to drugs and weapons?”
“Either way, Grace is way too close to danger. She needs to leave.” The tunnel had been found. She’d introduced him to all the key people in town and they’d accepted him as her friend, would talk to him again if he had questions. The team no longer needed her help.
“Can I go with you when you tell her that?” Shep laughed on the other end. “That shower of sparks when you two lock horns is kind of fun to watch. We don’t get much entertainment out here.”
He was about to put the idiot in his place when his phone rang. “Got another call.”
“All right. I’ll check in if we find anything.”
He pushed a button, ending one call as he picked up the other.
“Everything all right down there?” Colonel Wilson didn’t believe in wasting time on niceties. He was a cut-to-the-chase type of person. “Should I be sending more men?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, sir. For now, observation is all we’re doing there. Sending in the cavalry at this stage would just make us all look suspicious.”
“If that’s your assessment of the situation, then let’s go with that. Nice work on locating the tunnel, by the way. Knowing exactly where they’ll be coming through will make our job a lot easier.” Relief came through in the man’s voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there anything I can help you with from here?”
He hesitated. “Can you run a high-level check on Paco Molinero?” They’d already run the basic report, and Grace had the sheriff check the local database, but since neither of those turned up anything, it couldn’t hurt to go deeper. The Colonel had access to databases the average law enforcement officer didn’t even know about.
The SDDU had considerable resources and very little oversight. Few higher-up politicians even knew about the existence of the small special commando team. They worked on national security ops Stateside and abroad, and reported to Colonel Wilson, who owed explanation to no one else but the Secretary of Homeland Security.
Federal law prohibited the U.S. military from being used in the U.S. to enforce domestic law, but since the SDDU was a free-floating unit, not under the jurisdiction of any of the military branches, they had greater flexibility.
“How does Molinero figure into the op?” the Colonel wante
d to know.
“I’m not sure he does, sir.” He had no proof that Paco’s
death was related to the smugglers.
A moment of silence passed on the other end. “Is this a personal matter?”
“Yes, sir.” He winced. Now was not the best time to appear anything but focused. The op his team was working on was top priority, and the Colonel was watching them to see who would be a good team leader for the new location. Ryder and Ray had been with the SDDU the longest. The Colonel would be making a choice between them, and soon, before the rest of the men arrived for the takedown.
“It’s important to you?” the Colonel asked, his tone implying: it had better not be more important than the mission.
Ryder thought of Grace Cordero and that picture of the Molinero family she’d given him. “Yes, sir.”
While they’d been busy mapping the area around the tunnel and observing the careful comings and goings of a half-dozen smugglers over the past week, she’d been busy searching for the Molinero kids with a dogged determination that had earned the respect of his team. And made him worry.
She could be walking into serious trouble if she kept pushing. And she would keep pushing. She wasn’t the type to quit a job before it was finished.
“Is this going to be a distraction?” the Colonel was asking on the other end.
“Absolutely not, sir.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
His email pinged as he hung up. The border crossing logs had come in finally. About time. Over a damn week had passed since he’d requested them. He could have had them instantly, but chose to go through regular channels in the interest of keeping his cover. He wasn’t ready to reveal yet that they weren’t just a bunch of bureaucrats, but a superteam with superpowers.
He opened the spreadsheet and scanned through it. He found Paco Molinero’s name in the logs fairly easily. There was a date for his crossing. His children’s names were right next to his.
He looked for the company agent who had accompanied them. Esperanza had said his name was Dave Snebl. That name didn’t pop, but the database did have a Davey Schnebly.
He scanned through the timed camera log next and froze the right frame when he got to it, then sent the man’s picture to the cell phones of the others on his team. He also printed a hard copy while he ran a quick search to see how often Schnebly crossed the border. A dozen times at various border crossing points last month alone. If they could catch him… Ryder was trying to figure out how to do that when his cell phone rang again.
“They blew up the tunnel.” Mo wheezed at the other end.
Ryder shot to his feet, his blood going cold, his fingers gripping the phone so tight that the plastic creaked in protest. “Who?”
“Don’t know. A group came through, women and children. Their guide was robbing them. He was about to rape one of the women who didn’t have any extra money to give him. It was bad, Ryder. He smacked her kid around. Ray broke cover. The bastard ran back into the tunnel before we could catch up with him. So did all the people he’d been bringing over. They took us for border patrol.”
Mo grunted, as if lifting something heavy. “Ray went after them. The guide must have had the explosives set up and in place in case the tunnel was discovered. Ray hadn’t come out yet.” The sound of rocks rolling and clinking came through the line. He was probably digging by hand.
“Grace had gone home, right?” Ryder ran for the door, grateful that his leg was healing well. “Wasn’t she supposed to go to the hospital in Hullett to see a friend?”
“She came back.” Mo sounded miserable. “I don’t see her.”
“Find her.” He leaped down the stairs and ripped the SUV’s door open and jumped in. “I’m on my way. I’ll bring the others.”
He hung up and called the rest of the team. Shep was at the wire mill, snooping around. Jamie with his bad legs and Keith, the youngest of the team, were canvassing nearby ranches for tracks that would indicate alternate smuggling routes. Just because they’d found the tunnel didn’t mean they could now grow complacent.
His car flew over the road. He cursed himself a hundred times. He should have never allowed Grace Cordero any part in this. He should have done a better job scaring her off right at the beginning. If she still resisted, he could have taken her into protective custody if needed.
He drove as fast as the car could take it, given the dirt roads. He only slowed down when he almost turned the SUV over while trying to avoid an armadillo.
By the time he reached the ravine, Ray had already dug himself out with Mo’s help, but Grace was still nowhere to be found. Jamie and Keith were there already, helping Mo dig. Ray tried, but could barely stand. Looked like his leg might be broken.
“Sit down,” Jamie barked at him. “You’ll do more damage.”
Ray shot him a dark look then tried again. “You’ve gotten bossier since you became an uncle, you know that? I thought it’d be a softening experience.”
“Where did you see her last?” Ryder jumped into the frenetic digging, barely registering the exchange.
“Right around here, somewhere.” Mo coughed from the flying dust. “As soon as we saw people coming over, we pulled into cover. But when the tunnel blew up, she rushed forward to help.”
That sounded like Grace.
“Then this section caved with her right on top of it,” Mo finished.
His hands never stopped moving. Neither did the other men’s, not when rocks scraped their skin raw or a jagged edge drew blood. They dug like madmen, trying to get to her.
Shep arrived at last and ran to help. “How many were caught in the tunnel?”
“Half-dozen Mexicans, plus their guide and Grace.”
“We have to call in outside help.”
“I already did,” Ray said behind him, his voice tight with tension.
They were all grim as they worked with superhuman strength, probably thinking the same thing: their carefully set up op was finished as far as secrecy went. The tunnel was lost. They would have to start everything over.
But they didn’t have time to worry about any of that now.
Ryder lifted a small boulder and tossed it aside.
They’d dug down two feet in a couple of minutes. She wasn’t there. He straightened for a second, mad with worry, trying to think. Rocks were strewn everywhere, the dust still settling. The explosion had shaken the ground; part of the ridge had collapsed and tumbled down into the ravine.
If Grace had been standing on the exact wrong spot… His blood ran cold. What if she wasn’t under the rubble here? What if she’d tumbled over the edge?
“Get me rope.” Ryder inched forward to look for a way down, careful that he didn’t send more stones rolling. Couldn’t see anything but dust and rocks down there. He had to try, anyway.
Shep came back a few minutes later with rope and set up a harness in seconds.
“Don’t come too close to the edge,” Ryder warned. “Grace!” he yelled down as he began lowering himself, Shep spotting the rope. The others kept digging at the tunnel.
“Grace!”
No response came.
She was likely covered in dust or gravel, best-case scenario. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of her not getting caught on the ledge and falling all the way to the bottom of the ravine.
His heart raced as fast as his mind. He was always good at keeping his cool, but not today. “Grace!”
He coughed from the dust, but kept lowering himself, hands and feet on the rope. He didn’t dare brace his feet on the unstable rock wall for fear of loosening more stones. His bullet wound pulled, but he ignored the pain.
When he reached the ledge, he tested it before letting go of the rope and putting his full weight on it. If Grace had fallen only this far, she could have made it. The drop below was not survivable.
He scanned the pile of rocks, but he didn’t see her anywhere.
“Grace!” he called, inch
ing forward carefully, searching through the rubble, his heart tightening with every
passing minute.
“You see her?” came the question from above.
“Not yet.” But he would find her, and she would be okay, because the alternative was unthinkable.
Years seemed to pass before he heard a faint cough from behind a bigger boulder. Hope leaping, he made his way over and saw her face, covered in white dust. Most of her body was buried, her head looking more like an unusual rock than anything human.
He cleared the rubble that covered her body, tossing rocks over the ledge like a madman. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.” She coughed again and sat up carefully, covered in cuts and bruises, her clothes in tatters.
He squatted next to her to support her. “Did you hit your head?”
“What do you think?”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“I wish.”
Snappy to the end. Relief washed through him. He waited until she recovered a little before he helped her to stand. Sirens sounded in the distance.
She winced as she put weight on her right foot. “I don’t think my ankle made it.”
“Get on my back,” he said, at the same time as she said, “Help me snap my ankle back in.”
She had grit, and plenty of it.
She walked him through how to do it, biting her lip hard when the small pop indicated at last that he’d found the right place. His jaw drew tight. He hated that she was in pain, and he hated it even more that he’d caused some of it.
He ripped off his shirt, rolled it and wrapped it tight to stabilize the ankle, scowling at her when she hopped aside once he was done. “You still shouldn’t put weight on that foot.”
“I’m not planning to. Let’s go up while the going is good.” She reached for the rope.
“She’s coming up,” he called out to warn Shep to brace. And blinked hard as she started up, using nothing but her arms.
She didn’t have an ounce of extra weight on her, and she was still in top military shape, obviously. But the display of strength still surprised him. It was pretty amazing.
