The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection

by Carolyn McCray

  * * *

  Brandt glanced over his shoulder to Talli, who was having a hard time keeping up. He’d twisted his ankle or something. For a guy with not the best aim in the world, you would think he would keep the klutziness to a minimum. Clearly, Talli was a contrarian.

  At full speed, were they even going in the right direction? Brandt was operating on gut instinct alone, returning to their last rally point. Would Lopez think to double back? The man did have a fairly linear—make that acceleration-oriented—mind.

  Still, it was their best shot.

  He broke through a particularly stalwart pair of branches and stumbled into the clearing around the hut. Although, it wasn’t exactly clear any longer. And the hut wasn’t exactly a hut, either. The Disciples had torn it down to nearly its last thatch. Leaves, pots, and snake parts littered the ground.

  “Incoming!” Talli yelled, limping over to the right.

  Sure enough, a speeding helicopter swooped and dodged trees, making its way to them. A most welcome sight. Only, one slight problem. They weren’t slowing down. Or landing.

  “We better take this at a run,” Brandt suggested as the helicopter’s door opened. Talli tried, he really did, but he was never going to make it on his own. So as the chopper sped toward them, Brandt fell back, throwing Talli’s arm over his shoulder, urging him along.

  The helicopter flew overhead, pausing only briefly to hover over them.

  Levont reached out a bloody arm to help Talli up.

  “Why can’t you land?” Brandt yelled over the rotor wash.

  “Giraffe!” Levont shouted back.

  Giraffe? What the hell did—

  Then Brandt saw them. Giraffes. Tall, lanky, and apparently pissed, coming right at them.

  Giving Talli’s ass one good shove, Brandt got his sniper in the chopper, then running, keeping up with the now traveling helicopter, Brandt got a foot onto the strut. Hauling himself up, he dove into the chopper just as the door was slammed closed by a tree.

  Then giraffes were all around them. Their long necks rocking back and forth as they ran. One took a swipe at the struts, nearly knocking the helicopter ten feet off course.

  “I swear I didn’t challenge them to anything,” Lopez yelled from the front of the chopper.

  Brandt was about to answer when Rebecca was suddenly in his arms. He hugged her fiercely, then pulled her away, enough to look into her eyes.

  “Don’t you ever follow me again,” Brandt said, but joy danced in her eyes. Brandt would have kissed her, except for, you know, the giraffes.

  * * *

  Rebecca grabbed hold of a seat as the helicopter rocked when it was hit by another giraffe.

  “Why are there so many freaking animals?” Lopez demanded.

  Nursing his ankle, Talli answered, “We are smack dab in the middle of a wildlife reserve.”

  “Still…” Lopez exhaled. “And is somebody filming this?”

  Rebecca plunked her forehead against Brandt’s extremely stained white shirt. For a moment, amongst all the chaos, she just let his chest lift her forehead, then lower it as he breathed in and out. His heartbeat pounded against his breastbone, creating a beautiful symphony. He put a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair. She felt his lips brush the top of her head.

  Brandt was not just alive, but safe too. Well, as safe as any of them as Lopez struggled to keep them somewhat aloft. Rebecca barely noticed. Instead, she took in the moment. Then the little girl threw herself at Brandt, wrapping her little arms around his leg.

  “Thor!”

  Yes, Vakasa’s dark-haired, green-eyed Thor was Brandt. There must be a story there, but they certainly didn’t have time to tell it, as Lopez yelled, “Hold on!”

  When Lopez told you to secure yourself, you secured yourself.

  Brandt grabbed Rebecca and Vakasa, lowering them to the floor as he grabbed hold of the base of a seat. Lopez hit the thrust, taking them up. Up through the thick jungle canopy. Huge fronds whacked the chopper, tousling its path. The rotors ground, screaming their complaint, but still, they ascended.

  Until, finally, they popped out of the forest, streaking upward. It was like they’d escaped the earth’s atmosphere and hurled into space as stars twinkled in the sky. Then Lopez stabilized their speed and ascent.

  They hovered over the forest. The huge hole they’d cut in the canopy was already closing as branches unfolded, spreading a leaf bandage over the jungle.

  “There!” Talli shouted, pointing to the other helicopter whose rotors began turning.

  She laid her cheek against Brandt’s chest.

  His words rumbled against her ear. “I thought you sabotaged it?”

  “Wait for it,” Lopez said, skimming them over the canopy, heading north.

  * * *

  Brandt waited, with Rebecca safely stowed in his embrace, as the mercenaries loaded into the chopper even as it lifted off. The chopper that was supposed to be inoperable. Like, not able to lift off.

  “Lopez…”

  As their own helicopter gained altitude, Lopez scoffed. “Kind of the point of ‘wait for it’ is to wait.”

  Even after the other chopper had lifted off completely and swung around to give chase, Lopez still kept smiling. There was waiting, and then there was being stupid. Suddenly, the Disciples’ rotors lurched, spinning erratically. The chopper dipped and spun as the pilot tried to get the vehicle under control.

  “I knew they would comb the helo looking for other sabotage points, so I taped some rocks deep within the gear box.”

  “I don’t get it,” Rebecca said, tilting her chin up to look at Brandt. Her tear-streaked, mud-caked features should have been on the cover of Vogue.

  Levont answered as Talli tended to his arm wound. “The heat and vibration of the liftoff loosened the tape, releasing the rocks into the gear box.”

  “I figured, why just incapacitate the chopper when I might be able to take out the whole crew?” Lopez boasted, not inaccurately, as the Disciples’ helicopter limped its way over the forest. Clearly trying to find a place to land.

  If Brandt weren’t holding Rebecca so close, he might have hugged the corporal. Vakasa loosened her grip from his leg to look around.

  She asked in a mishmash of Russian, Hebrew, and possibly Incan. Brandt took her to mean, “Where is Scarecrow?” Davidson.

  Good question.

  “Lopez?”

  Again, the corporal scoffed. “Why do think we’re not halfway to Rwanda?”

  As the Disciples’ helicopter zigged and zagged its way west, losing altitude, then shooting up the next second, Lopez maneuvered his way back to the clearing. A hand waved from the trees. For once, they had a sniper in the perch and didn’t have to use him.

  Brandt moved Rebecca and the girl over to make room to open the chopper’s door.

  One team member left to rescue and they were the hell out of Africa.

  Davidson emerged from the canopy as Lopez brought them alongside the tree line. Winds buffeted them a bit, but the sniper would only have a few feet to jump and be home free.

  Brandt reached out his hand. “Nice to see you, Private.”

  A smile flashed as Davidson secured his rifle. He took in a few breaths, then launched himself. Everything was going great—the helicopter’s stability, Davdison’s trajectory, everything.

  Until it wasn’t.

  * * *

  Pain lanced Davidson’s neck as warm blood gushed from a bullet wound. The force knocked him back and down. His fingers desperately sought the helicopter’s struts, but his hand instinctively pulled back to clutch the bleeding wound. And his weak hand couldn’t support his weight.

  Brandt clutched at his sleeve, but he could never pull him up in time and, all the while he tried, gave the Disciples’ sniper all the time in the world to deliver a fatal blow to the chopper.

  “Take two,” Davidson said before he let go.

  The sergeant refused to release his sleeve until bullets pinged off the chop
per.

  “Fuck,” Brandt blurted, then let gravity do the rest.

  Davidson crashed into the canopy, the leaves and thick stems breaking his fall. He only fell through three layers of trees before a he caught a branch under one arm. One hand staunching the bleeding, Davidson’s other hand helped him climb up onto the branch.

  When would he learn that the Disciples’ sniper had the patience of literally a saint? And worse, he was smart. Why show your hand until you could go for the checkmate shot? The other sniper knew he couldn’t take out the team until he took out Davidson. So he had laid in wait. Tempering his urgency with his desire to eliminate his competition. Patiently staying his hand until the kill shot.

  And another half inch and it would have been a fatal injury.

  Davidson pulled his palm away from his neck and gently probed the wound. The bullet had taken a small chunk out of his flesh but missed the jugular. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t bleeding like a mother.

  Ripping the hem from his jacket, he packed the wound and tied a band as tight as he could without cutting off blood flow to his brain.

  Now to figure out a way to get back on that helicopter without getting them all shot.

  * * *

  Frellan leaned in as the helicopter veered left, as if blown by a fierce wind. Instead, they were undone by child’s play. Pebbles in the gear box had brought them low. Not just low. It had nearly crashed them.

  He looked to the empty seat across from him. Mikhal’s seat. The sniper had refused to board. He had refused to chase after the heat signatures. He had gone up a tree and refused to come down.

  What report would he write to the Master? How Frellan not only lost the Messiah, but killed his entire team in the attempt? Mikhal prized stillness. Who knew sitting out the fight could actually make you the victor. Well, Frellan had combed the world for near on a decade for the Messiah.

  And now, after seeing her? Frellan wasn’t about to yield his duty or his honor.

  “We must jump,” he ordered Ugudo as the helicopter bucked again, nearly falling into the trees.

  The man shook his head sharply, his words rattled by the unstable rotors. “Can’t chance landing in the river.”

  Frellan looked out past the tree line to the Congo River. It snaked past, slow and sluggish. “The water will break our fall.”

  All the men around Frellan snorted. “We will take our chances here,” one said.

  “Mamba,” Ugudo said. “Bad mamba here.”

  Frellan studied the smooth waters as best he could as the helicopter jumped and bounced in the air. He knew of the crocodile danger. Anyone who dared travel in Africa knew of the mamba. It was one thing to snatch a kayaker from his boat. Quite another to take on an entire armed team.

  He went to argue with Ugudo, but the man leaned his head against the hull. “You jump? You jump alone.” Even with that barbed bar in his cheek, the man still defied Frellan. He did not take that lightly.

  Frellan nodded his concession. Seldom did he allow subordinates to dictate terms, but if Ugudo was willing to risk another session with Frellan, he must have his convictions.

  “Then we land,” Frellan instructed.

  “The pilot is trying to get us back to the—”

  “Now,” Frellan ordered. “If he must crash us, he crashes us.”

  The African’s eyes dilated. It was one of the mercenaries who spoke. “That is quite the risk.”

  Frellen raised a pierced eyebrow to Ugudo. “You wished to take your chances, did you not?”

  * * *

  “That’s right, sucker!” Lopez yelled through the windshield. That was until a shot bounced off a rotor. The corporal backed them away several hundred yards. “How about now, huh?”

  “Lopez,” Brandt admonished, “let’s stop antagonizing the guy with the sniper rifle…” Then Brandt remembered the elephants and the giraffes. “On second thought, let’s not antagonize anyone or thing.”

  “I gotta tell ya,” Lopez said, “I don’t have a whole lot of fuel left…”

  For so many reasons, they were running out of options. But they couldn’t leave Davidson in the jungle, either. However, to go in close enough to the forest’s edge to retrieve the private would be nearly suicide for both Davidson and everyone on the chopper.

  “What are we going to do?” Rebecca asked, slipping her hand in his.

  Jesus, he wished he had an answer for her.

  “Get us close enough, and I can try to take a shot,” Talli suggested.

  Brandt shook his head. “Your gun doesn’t have enough range. Nothing we have does.” Plus, it is you on the trigger, he thought but did not say aloud.

  “I say we take the fight to the sniper,” Levont announced from the back of the helicopter.

  “Great plan, only how do you plan to avoid a massacre?” Brandt said as he turned to his point man.

  Levont didn’t have to answer as he hefted an RPG launcher from a metal bin.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Brandt said as he squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “Let’s get everyone strapped in.”

  God, he had never loved Rebecca more than when she simply nodded and went to get Vakasa secured. No argument. No questioning the logic. No fussing.

  If they survived the next few minutes, she was definitely a keeper.

  CHAPTER 10

  ══════════════════

  Skies Above the Congo

  11:29 p.m. (CAT)

  Rebecca urged Vakasa to cover her ears, but the little girl just stared wide-eyed at Levont as he prepped the rocket launcher.

  “Lopez, move us in,” Brandt said, then turned to everyone else. “Remember, we are going to have to take some fire until we are in position.”

  Of course, they would have to take some fire. When didn’t they? At least this was for a good cause. Getting Davidson back. She’d take some fire for that. Apparently Vakasa would as well, as she gave a thumbs-up. Such a remarkable little girl. It seemed she spoke over half a dozen languages and knew her way around American idioms.

  “Ready?” Lopez asked, then didn’t bother to wait for an answer.

  Instead, he tilted the chopper forward, running straight at the sniper’s position. Bullets cracked the windshield, but still, they streaked forward.

  “Now!” Brandt shouted, and on a dime, Lopez turned the helicopter ninety degrees so the door was facing the sniper.

  Rebecca covered her ears, wincing as the rocket ignited, flying from the launcher toward the western jungle. Just as quickly, Lopez spun the helicopter away and hauled ass across the clearing. She looked over her shoulder to watch the rocket hit the trees and burst into flame. They had no chance of actually killing the sniper. They just needed him running for his life from the explosion.

  And sure enough, not a single shot sounded in the night as they raced to Davidson’s position. Somehow, even though injured, he had climbed back to the top of the canopy, deeper in the forest so they couldn’t pick him up at the tree line, but Levont had the ropes and harness ready.

  They were prepared.

  Except, of course, for the helicopter to start sputtering.

  * * *

  Davidson watched the helicopter’s speed cut in half. Fuel streaming out of a bullet hole explained a lot.

  Crap.

  There would be no second chances this time. Ignoring the stabbing pain from his neck and just about every other body part, Davidson knew he had to make up the distance. No time to make sure the branches could carry his weight.

  He just had to have faith. With a prayer on his lips, Davidson ran across the canopy. Never landing long enough to sink into the jungle. His momentum would not last long, though.

  The helicopter veered toward him, then dropped a good twenty feet down the riverside cliff. Davidson was almost there. Minor details, but now that the helicopter was lower than him, the spinning rotors were in the way.

  It was clear, however, that as the helicopter staggered and sputtered, it was ne
ver going to make up the altitude.

  Davidson could only pray that Lopez knew what he was about to do.

  Gritting his teeth, Davidson launched himself out of the jungle and toward those spinning rotors.

  Just in time, the helicopter tilted left, angling the rotors away.

  Davidson hit the fuselage hard. His finger scrambled to find a hold on the fuel-slickened metal. His feet flailed, trying to find purchase on…well, anything.

  Then there was a hand on his collar.

  “I’ve got you,” Brandt said. Standing on the struts, braced against the door, the sergeant was a sight for sore eyes. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Davidson certainly didn’t argue there. He let himself slip the rest of the way down the body of the helicopter as he was guided to the safety of the struts. As the helicopter righted itself, Davidson was pulled into the cabin.

  “Thanks.”

  Brandt frowned, though. “I wouldn’t thank me yet.”

  The sergeant nodded toward the Congo River. The surface of which was fast approaching as Brandt secured the door.

  “What are you talking about?” Lopez scoffed. “We are totally going to make it.”

  The far shore seemed, well, pretty far off, given how quickly the helicopter was losing thrust.

  “Okay. I lied,” Lopez admitted. “We aren’t going to make it.”

  No kidding.

  * * *

  Rebecca watched as, for one glorious moment, it looked like Lopez would prove himself wrong. The bank wasn’t forty feet away. You could see the individual trees on the other side. You could make out the ripples in the mud.

  Then the helicopter’s engine gave one last sputter. The rotors ground to a halt, and the chopper just fell out of the air. Straight down into the Congo River. They hit the water hard, but not all that hard because, well, they just weren’t that high in the sky.

  “Evac,” Brandt barked, flinging off his restraints.

  Water lapped at the front windshield as they sank into the river. Rebecca unbuckled herself, then Vakasa. The girl climbed into her arms, clutching her neck. Rebecca didn’t blame the girl. If she could have sought shelter in Brandt’s arms, she would have done it. Unfortunately, Brandt was busy gathering as much gear as they could salvage. He trusted her to buck up. To be brave. Or at least fake it.