Fast Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  It was still a big goddamn stretch to have him on an op with them.

  The reason they trained as hard as they did was so that every man on the team knew each other well enough that they could anticipate what the others were going to do before they did it. They also knew each other’s limitations.

  That kind of bond could only be forged by countless hours spent training and on deployments together. And now it wasn’t just any old hostage they were going to rescue, it was Cap. The stakes and pressure would be beyond anything they’d done before, because as professional as they all were, emotions would be running at an all-time high.

  “Any of you object?” Taggart asked, crossing his arms and glancing around at them.

  They didn’t have time to hash this out any longer and Taggart could hold his own, so Gabe shook his head and got on board with it.

  When no one else argued, Taggart nodded once. “All right. Freeman, you’ll act as team leader on this one. Lockhart, you’re our new point man. I’ll go second to last in the stack if we have to do a breach.” He gestured to Freeman. “Let’s hammer out the details. They’re readying a flight for us right now.”

  Freeman grabbed the drawings of the floor plan Oceane had sketched out earlier. The whole team studied them carefully, cross-referencing with satellite images of the house and grounds.

  They picked their entry and exit points. Tried to figure out what kinds of security measures would be in place. How many guards. They would be armed with semi-automatic weapons. Might even have grenades or even RPGs.

  This had to be surgical. Insert without detection, use violence of action when they breached the house to take the defenders by surprise. Then get past the armed security, into the basement, find Cap and get him the hell out.

  The commander and team leader of the Mexican SF team came in. With Rodriguez acting as chief translator they laid out everything, divvied up assignments. Mexican feds would deliver Oceane to the meeting point and hand her over to one of her father’s men. Once she arrived safely, Nieto might release Cap.

  But Gabe wasn’t holding his breath on that one.

  Hopefully the taskforce would at least have eyes or ears on Oceane at all times so they could track her. For all they knew Nieto might not even be at the target house. He might order Oceane to be taken elsewhere.

  Fuck. It drove Gabe nuts that he had no say in this, but there was nothing he could do to stop it now. If they were going to save Cap tonight, all of them had to be on their games and focus on the job at hand.

  Even if the woman he was falling for was about to place herself in direct and very real danger.

  He shoved the thought aside and focused on business. Everything moved fast from there. Before Gabe knew it, they’d been granted a green light for the op from both the Mexican and U.S. governments. The Mexicans would act as perimeter security at Nieto’s mansion while FAST Bravo executed the rescue op and moved to the extraction point.

  Then Gabe would be forced to wait on the sidelines for word on Oceane…and not be able to do dick all to help her if she got into trouble in the meantime.

  “Okay, boys, let’s move,” Freeman said, pulling on his gloves.

  Gabe looked around, but Oceane was already gone.

  Heart heavy, he followed his teammates back to their barracks. Everyone grabbed their gear and rushed out to the vehicles waiting to take them to the airstrip. Two private jets were waiting on the tarmac, ready to roll.

  They piled on board and buckled in for the flight to Cancún.

  No one talked. There was no chatter, no joking around. Even Granger and Maka were quiet. Every last one of them knew the gravity of the situation. If they messed this up, if they breached the house and it turned out Cap wasn’t at the target location, he would die.

  And Oceane might too.

  ****

  Victoria jerked upright when someone knocked on the door of the hotel room the Mexican officials had put her in near base several hours ago. With everything going on, the taskforce wanted her contained and out of the way, yet available at a moment’s notice if she was needed for anything else. Taggart had told her he might send for her at some point. The whole time she’d been in here, she’d thought about Brock, and what she’d seen in that video.

  She crossed to the door to see who was there. But instead of finding one of the marshals when she checked the peephole, a Mexican police officer stood there dressed in uniform instead.

  “Who is it?” she said in Spanish.

  “Miss Gomez, I’m Sergeant Vargas. Commander Taggart wants to meet with you. I’m to take you to him.”

  She frowned. Everything here was in a state of chaos, but she didn’t see why the marshals would allow someone else to come up and get her. Unless the Mexican authorities had overruled them? “Where is my security detail?”

  “Downstairs, waiting for you in the vehicle.”

  Odd. “Did Taggart say what he wanted?”

  “No. But his team is heading to the nearby airport, where I am to take you. We must hurry.”

  Did he want her to fly to Cancún with them maybe? She could ask the marshals once she got to the vehicle. “One moment.” She grabbed her purse from the dresser and unlocked the door.

  Vargas stepped back and walked at a rapid clip to the stairs. “Faster than the elevator,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  Their footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell as they hurried for the ground floor. “This way,” Vargas said, pushing open the exit door that opened up into an alley behind the hotel.

  A gray van was parked there. Not running. And she couldn’t see anyone else inside it.

  Suspicion transformed into alarm, a primal warning tingling at the base of her spine.

  Not wanting to give herself away, she turned around, hid her unease as she stepped back through the door. This was all wrong. She needed to get the hell away from him. “I forgot a file up in my room. Taggart will need it.” She started past the man, intending to race into the lobby and get help.

  Vargas shot out a hand and gripped her wrist. “No. We need to leave now. The file can wait.”

  Alarm transformed into fear.

  She wrenched her arm free, but just as quickly he snatched her other one and pulled her toward the door.

  Heart in her throat, Victoria whirled on him, stared right into his eyes. “Let. Me. Go.” She narrowed her eyes at him in warning, hoping her strong stance would be enough to make him release her. “Now.”

  He cursed and grabbed her around the torso, wrenching her off her feet.

  “No!” She drove her head back, slamming her skull into his face with a satisfying crack. Vargas bellowed in pain but didn’t drop her, kept dragging her determinedly toward the van.

  Everything Trinity and Briar had shown her came flooding back.

  Victoria twisted around in his grip and drove the heels of her hands into the underside of his jaw, snapping his head back. He tripped, grunted as she landed on top of him.

  She scrambled to her feet and took a lunging step away but he managed to snatch her ankle. Down she went, her knees slamming into the pavement with bruising force. With a snarl of rage, she turned on him, used her momentum to break his grip and deliver a solid roundhouse to the side of his head.

  He went down, stunned, and she didn’t wait to see whether he stayed down.

  She ran, her shoes thudding on the pavement, veering around the corner, past a group of startled people and into the lobby. “Help! Help, there’s a man after me!”

  The two men behind the front desk gaped at her, then hurried toward her. But before she could reach them, a familiar voice shouted from behind.

  “Victoria!”

  She skidded to a halt, spun around to face two marshals, their faces masks of concern. “A cop,” she panted, her knees beginning to quake. “Or a fake one. He came to my room. Tried to get me into a van in the alley out back. He’s down.”

  The one in the lead cursed, glanced at his partner, who took off
toward the alley while he came up to her. “Are you all right?” he asked, holstering his weapon, scanning her for injuries.

  A wave of queasiness rolled over her. “Y-yes.” Oh God, that had been way too close. Who the hell was that guy, and what did he want with her?

  She bent over, put her hands on her knees and struggled to breathe. You’re safe. You’re okay. Her nervous system wasn’t listening to her, her body still in flight mode.

  The marshal put his hand on her back. “It’s all right now. Take a minute.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t answer, too overcome by what had just happened. By what could have just happened if she hadn’t gotten free.

  A ringing sound registered a minute later.

  The marshal straightened and pulled out his phone. “You got him?” He listened, then nodded at Victoria. “He got him. Guy’s not a cop. Apparently someone in the cartel paid him to bring you to them.”

  She barely suppressed a shudder at the news. “Who?” Terror forked through her at the thought of how close she had come to being their prisoner again. There was no way she could have survived that a second time.

  “Don’t know. But we’re gonna find out.” He grasped her upper arm gently, turned her and hustled her through the lobby while people stared at them.

  Victoria didn’t care about the stares. She just wanted out of here, and back to where someone would know what was going on with the op to rescue Brock. “So Taggart never s-sent for me.”

  “No. But you’re not staying in this shithole a second longer, and we’re not abiding by any bullshit protocol down here anymore.” He stalked toward the front doors. “I’m taking you back to HQ to wait this out, and I don’t care who doesn’t like it.”

  “Good.” She was shaken but not hurt. And she was still free. But she was damn lucky on both counts. God, what she wouldn’t give to feel Brock’s arms around her right now. The thought pushed her precariously close to the tears she was battling.

  “I’ll call Taggart.”

  “No.” She grabbed his hand when he raised his phone to his ear. When he looked at her sharply, she shook her head. “Don’t. I don’t want anything to distract from the rescue op. I’m fine. This can wait until after.”

  He stared at her a second, then nodded and ushered her toward a car parked at the curb. “How did you get away?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

  Victoria wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. “I head-butted him, then gave him a roundhouse to the side of the head.” And damn, it was empowering to realize she had fought back and saved herself this time. She owed Trinity and Briar a big thank you when this was finally all over.

  One side of the marshal’s mouth kicked up. “Well, good for you.” He chuckled as he pulled out into traffic. “Good for you.”

  She didn’t care about that now. “Have you heard anything more about Brock? Or Oceane?”

  His expression sobered. “No. But the team’s on their way down there with her now. Won’t be long until we know something more. And if you’re at headquarters, you’ll know as soon as it happens.”

  Closing her eyes, she fought the sting of tears and the sense of hopelessness invading her. Oceane was putting herself in grave danger to do this. Brock’s life depended on her convincing Nieto to let him go, or his teammates finding and freeing him in time.

  But with every second that passed, the odds of him surviving dwindled more.

  ****

  Oceane’s heart pounded against her ribs as the Federale drove her to the meeting point. A park a few miles from the Cancún vacation house, where her father had pushed her on the swings when she was little.

  They had been given the location only a few minutes after she’d texted the contact upon her arrival at a local airstrip. A precaution, to ensure the police wouldn’t have time to set up a sting to arrest the man coming to get her.

  She knew the park well. Once, she and her mother had set up a picnic on a blanket beneath the shade of a grove of palms and together they’d eaten lunch, finishing off the meal with the special chocolate cake they’d made, spiced with cinnamon and cayenne.

  One of so many treasured, happy memories she had of her little family. She’d felt so secure. So safe. But it turned out it had all been a lie.

  She pulled herself from her reverie as familiar landmarks caught her attention and ordered her nerves to calm. They had planted a tiny tracking chip in the underwire of her bra. Even with a scanning device, no one was likely to find it. The Mexican federal agents were using it to track her to wherever she was taken. From there they would move in to arrest Nieto, while Gabe and his team would try to rescue Brock. Then…

  Then she would finally be free.

  She focused on the scenery outside her window. The city was so beautiful at night with all the lights gleaming. Since it was almost one in the morning all the shops and restaurants were closed, only the occasional bar open. The streets were quiet, the sidewalks all but deserted as they approached the park.

  “Are you ready?” the fed up front asked her.

  “Yes.” As ready as I’ll ever be.

  He parked under a streetlight, making it easier for the men coming to get her to see it was only her and the driver in the car. He stepped out and opened her door for her.

  She took a steadying breath. This was it. No turning back now.

  She stepped out of the vehicle, locked her shaking knees and looked around. The fed stayed beside her, his body partially blocking hers as another vehicle drew up. A sleek Jaguar. It parked across the street, the engine still purring.

  The driver’s door opened.

  A bittersweet pang hit her when she saw the familiar man climbing out. “David,” she said, a wave of anguish threatening to crash over her. She had known Nieto’s head of security since she was a child. What atrocities had he committed or covered up on Nieto’s behalf?

  The handsome, middle-aged man smiled at her, his expression so kind it made something sharp twist in her chest. “Hello, mija.”

  She swallowed back the tears burning the back of her throat, her mind at war with itself. He’d always been so kind to her. How was it possible he was involved in all the atrocities her father was responsible for? “Is it just you?” She had expected more of an armed escort.

  “Yes. We thought you’d be most comfortable that way.” He held out a hand toward her. “Shall we go?”

  She forced herself to nod, step away from the agent and cross the road to where David waited, strangely comforted by his presence.

  The park behind him was enclosed by trees and other vegetation. It looked deserted, but she knew David would have set up at least one of his men there with a rifle, just in case. She shivered, the sense of security she had always felt around him ripped from her.

  She climbed into the Jag. The interior smelled brand new, the sweet scent of high-grain leather rich in the air. “Is he waiting for me?” she asked as David pulled away from the curb.

  “Yes. He’ll be so happy to see you. He’s been waiting for this a long time.”

  She rubbed her damp palms over her jean-clad thighs. “So have I.” She pushed back the anger and sadness building inside her, the questions crowding the back of her throat. Losing her cool with David wouldn’t do anyone any good. She would wait until she confronted her father to let it all out.

  At least she was safe now, strange as that thought was. Her father had gone to extraordinary lengths to try and bring her back to him alive, and he had sent David to get her personally. She was precious cargo to him, after all. Though she still didn’t understand why in light of everything he’d done.

  “Has Agent Hamilton been set free?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Bullshit. David knew everything that went on with her father’s activities.

  “That was the deal. My father needs to let him go. Now.”

  “You can talk to him about it when you see him.”

  She sat there fum
ing, trying to think of a way to sway him. Or at least have him convince Nieto to let Brock go.

  David made several sharp turns when he reached the city center. She glanced in the side mirror, wondering if any of the headlights behind them were from someone on the taskforce following her. Perhaps the federal agents were watching them via satellite, or maybe CCTVs or drones, she wasn’t sure.

  Instead of continuing on toward the water as she expected, David wound his way into a cramped back alley and parked behind a building.

  Her stomach muscles tightened. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking precautions,” he said calmly, and handed her a bag. “Take off everything you’re wearing and change into these. Everything. Bra and underwear too.”

  She blinked at him, opened her mouth to argue but realized that would make it look even more suspicious. Except without the tracking chip in her bra, the feds wouldn’t know where she was if they lost visual contact at any point.

  “I’ll wait outside,” David said, and stepped out.

  Not having a choice, she changed clothes, the task twice as awkward because of the cramped space in the front seat.

  She put on the new clothes from the bag and stuffed her own back into it. When she was finished she glanced up to make sure David still had his back to her and fumbled with the underwire of her old bra. He would check to make sure the new bra and underwear weren’t in the bag, so she had to transfer the chip somehow.

  Her fingers were clumsy, the stress starting to get to her. She cursed as her grip slipped.

  Hurry. Hurry.

  The chip was soldered to the wire. She used her nails to try and pry it free. It didn’t budge.

  Frantic to do this before David turned back around, she used her teeth, biting down with all her might. The chip cracked free.

  Sending up a silent thank you, she quickly shoved it into the bottom of the new bra cups, stuffed the old bra into the bag and smoothed a hand over her shirt.

  David opened the door a crack. “Done?”