Time for Davidson to get to work.
He nibbled Bernadette’s ear as he instructed her, “Get to the bathroom. Secure yourself there.”
She giggled, and rose, asking in French if she could use the restroom.
Bouchard waved her off, looking very annoyed, as he studied the video screen that still hid Lopez’s car from view.
A guard followed her.
Perfect. That took the odds from ten-to-one to nine-to-one.
As Lopez pulled out from behind a train and executed a perfect ninety-degree turn to cut off the trucks, Davidson leapt into action. Before the room could fully fathom the betrayal, Davidson threw the heel of his palm into the closest man’s solar plexus. He snatched a man’s gun, while throwing his other elbow backwards into another man’s nose.
He spun firing, taking down, one by one, the men standing around him. He grabbed the second man’s gun and spread his arms wide shooting each direction.
Most of the men were half-wasted, fumbling to even get their guns out of their holsters. Davidson had taken down eight of the nine men in as many seconds.
The only man left standing was Bouchard. He held up his hands in surrender, begging for his life. Even though the man was scum… a human trafficker, drug dealer, and general douche, it was so hard for Davidson to shoot an unarmed man.
So he tossed the man a gun.
Bouchard’s eyes dilated as he caught the weapon. Stupidly, he aimed it at Davidson.
Bang, bang, Davidson’s moral dilemma was resolved.
A creak warned Davidson that someone had entered the room.
He spun to find a guard with his gun to Bernadette’s temple.
Davidson guessed that Bernadette didn’t quite understand the concept of securing herself.
That was alright. Davidson would take care of it.
The guard was trying to be all sneaky hiding behind Bernadette. But what they all forgot was that to hold the gun to her temple, they had to expose their own fingers and wrists.
If you really wanted to use someone has a body shield, aim at the back of the head. Idiots.
Tears flowed down Bernadette’s cheek as she murmured “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Davidson stated and turned his attention to the guard. “Look around you. There’s no way out. Leave now and I won’t shoot.”
The guy didn’t take the hint as he ground the muzzle of his gun into Bernadette’s skin.
Like he said, first category, moron.
Davidson didn’t hesitate to fire, shattering the man’s wrist.
Bernadette did what any good hostage would do and fell forward and down. The gun went off, firing high and wide.
Davidson shot two into the body mass. Then one to the forehead, just to be sure.
He hurried over to Bernadette, helping her up. “Are you injured?”
Shaky, she clung to Davidson’s arm. “No.”
“Good because we need to get out of here. The rest of Bouchard’s men should be here any minute.”
They hurried down the back steps. Their part of the mission done.
He could only hope Brandt and Van were having as good a night.
* * *
Brandt was getting knocked around the car pretty badly. The truck had somehow been able to make a left turn, without colliding with Lopez. Now they were trying to get the trucks stopped without tipping them over, risking hurting the women and dumping the nuclear waste.
Lopez took another quick right, then another right, and came out in front of the first truck.
They were way too close for the driver of the truck to make any other evasive maneuver besides slamming on the brakes. The back of the truck fishtailed, but stayed upright.
However, it was coming at them pretty damned fast. Brandt was almost certain that the guy couldn’t stop the truck in time. Lopez, however, was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
At the last moment, Lopez took his foot off the brake, slammed the car into gear and popped them out of the truck’s way as it squealed to a stop.
Lopez and Brandt were out of the car, weapons raised. Lopez took out the driver and guard in the first truck, as Brandt took care of the second.
He raced back to the rear door of his truck, shooting off the lock, rolling the door up. Two guards inside burst out, but Brandt was ready for them, mowing them down midair.
Inside the truck’s hold were several dozen women, huddled together, crying.
The other truck must have held the nuclear waste.
Brandt held up his palms, “You’re safe. You are safe.”
The sound of sirens approaching rapidly seemed to convince them of the fact.
He rushed over to Lopez, who had taken down his guards and pointed to the four barrels inside the truck. They were still nice and stable.
A car sped up from behind them. Both pivoted, pointing at the oncoming car, but it was just Davidson and Bernadette. They hopped out of the car and joined Lopez and Brandt.
“Glad to see you made it,” Brandt said.
Davis smiled. “Category two.”
Smart, but arrogant. That sounded like Bouchard.
The sirens drew closer and closer, Brandt stated. “Our cue to leave.”
They loaded into their cars and took off.
Van could handle the rest.
* * *
“We really don’t have to go this fast anymore,” Van noted.
Try convincing Sam of that.
Even though the trucks were coming up, really, really rapidly, Sam was not taking her foot off the gas.
Women were climbing out of the second truck. Sam still didn’t feel the need to brake.
It wasn’t until they were practically on the bumper of the first truck, that Sam slammed on the brakes, pulled up the emergency brake, and turned the car around in a perfect one eighty.
They were now facing the dozens of police cars they had gathered on their rampage through Paris.
The cop cars stopped, skidding into a line, blocking their path. What they didn’t know was that Van had no intention of trying to escape. This was where she wanted them to be all along.
Bernadette came out from around the truck, her hands up, speaking rapidly in French that they met no harm.
Van slowly exited the car along with Sam. She showed her badge, as she knelt on the pavement. “Don’t shoot. I am a member of the Nuclear Materials Recovery Team there is radioactive material behind me. Don’t shoot.” Bernadette translated for her.
That seemed to get through the lead cop’s anger. He began waving his hands over his head urging all of his comrades to get back.
Finally, someone with a bit of sense.
Bernadette got her dosimeter out of the car as she, Van, Sam, and the lead cop walked to the first truck.
Van could see the man’s eyes dilate when he saw the barrels. Sure people maybe believed her, but it was quite another thing seeing the containers himself.
Bernadette swept the truck hold and found it uncontaminated.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The mission had gone off without a hitch.
Just like Brandt had said it would.
Damn him.
Heresy – the 2nd book of the 3rd cycle of the Betrayed series
CHAPTER 1
This. Was. Stupid.
Brandt’s ankle ached because it was the only thing keeping him from dropping 118 floors to the Hong Kong street below. If his foot hadn’t gotten caught up in that wiring…
He didn’t want to think about it.
Nor did he want to think about dangling 1500 feet in the air, but hey, that was life.
His men were on the move. He couldn’t see them, or talk to them, but that didn’t matter, he knew they were on the move.
If they were alive. A minor detail.
Davidson was under fire the last time Brandt saw him and Lopez had disappeared over an hour ago. The team was two men down. They probably shouldn’t have taken this assignment, but it had
sounded so straightforward. A simple recon detail.
No biggie, the Pentagon had said. Perhaps from behind a computer screen it wasn’t dangerous, but in Hong Kong? Hanging off the eighth tallest building in the world? It felt kind of big.
And the winds. Damn the winds. This high up they were sheering, pushing Brandt nearly horizontal to the ground. Which was why he was up on the tower with Davidson in the first place. Even the world’s best sniper needed a little help every once in a while. Brandt was acting as a spotter as Davidson took high-resolution video with his sniper cam.
How could the attackers have known they were up there? The team had only gotten the assignment thirty six hours ago. Alpha Tango barely had time to prep a plan. How had the enemy?
Brandt dropped. He was in free fall. This was it. Then the wires snagged around his ankle again, stopping his plummeting drop. These wires weren’t going to last long. The next time he lost purchase would probably the last time. Thank goodness it was his good leg. If it had been the other, his knee would have already buckled, useless. Thousands of dollars in reconstructive surgery shot to hell.
Wind tousled his hair. He really needed to get it shaved again.
If he survived that long.
* * *
How many of them were there?
He’d downed at least ten of them. And still gunfire filled the air.
Brandt had to be alive. Davidson had seen him get knocked back over the side of the building. There had been a bundle of wire that had gone over with him. Davidson had to hold the faith that Brandt wasn’t dead.
Luckily, Davidson had gotten pretty good at holding onto faith. You pretty much had to if you served on team Alpha Tango. Their missions put even the most faithful to the test.
“You need to cut him loose!” Lopez yelled into Davidson’s ear. He almost couldn’t make out the driver’s words due to the chaotic sounds of the strong wind. Where the hell was Lopez? “Now!”
Davidson gulped. Time to get out of his comfort zone. He had to get to the edge of the roof to cut the wires holding Brandt.
Taking his rifle away from his shoulder, Davidson braced the weapon against his hip and switched from precision firing mode to rapid fire. His clip held twenty large caliber, armor-piercing rounds. He’d fired thirteen, so he only had seven left. He didn’t have time to switch out the magazine.
If Lopez said “now,” he meant now. Even Brandt wouldn’t question it when Lopez was that sure.
Davidson fired into the general area of the enemy. They were holed up behind a large air conditioning unit.
A responding burst of bullets forced Davidson back down. There were too many of them left. Davidson was never going to get to the side.
Which left him with only one option.
Kneeling back down, Davidson put the rifle to his shoulder.
“Come on, come on,” Lopez yelled in his ear.
Davidson aligned the shot, magnifying the wires stretched taunt over the side of the building.
“You’re sure?” Davidson asked. He hated to take such dangerous action when he had no idea what the plan was. And he only had one more bullet in his rifle.
“Now!” Lopez screamed above the wind noise.
Davidson couldn’t waiver any longer. He squeezed the trigger. Of course the bullet hit true, snapping the wire. The remaining metallic tail whipped over the edge.
Brandt was airborne.
* * *
Falling.
His world was of the sky receding and the ground approaching.
Brandt didn’t bother trying to flail or do anything to slow himself down. He didn’t want to look like those saps who thought they could change their fate. No, his last action would be to keep it together. Accept his fate.
But damn, it wasn’t fair. He loved Rebecca so much. And his kids. They had made him ten times a better man and soldier.
If this was it, then this was it.
He let the air streak past him without protest.
Then he hit something. His hands lashed out. The fabric was thick and slick. As a matter of fact, he was sliding sideways across it. His fingernails dug in, but couldn’t get any purchase.
It took a moment for Brandt to register what had broken his fall.
A parasail.
Lopez.
The only problem was that they were losing height rapidly with his body deforming the sail.
“Okay, so maybe I didn’t think this through,” Lopez admitted as he worked the lines, trying to get them stabilized.
They were both going to crash, if Brandt didn’t get off the sail.
As the parasail flapped and spun, Brandt grabbed hold of the edge and flipped his body weight off the top of the fabric.
Immediately Lopez was able to stop their death spiral, but that didn’t mean they were safe. They were still dropping way too fast.
“And talk about weird, some guy tried to snatch my pendant.”
Right, as they were dual parasailing in Hong Kong, the petty theft was the weird thing.
Brandt cringed as they sideswiped an office building. A window shattered, leaving shards in Brandt’s jacket.
Then they were back to falling from the sky.
* * *
Rebecca bit her tongue, literally. She could taste the blood. Salty and tart.
Brandt was off on what was basically a vacation in Hong Kong, and she was stuck here with Brandt’s mother.
Remind her again why they moved closer to the Witch Queen of the South?
Oh yeah, to help Rebecca when Brandt was out in the field.
And this was help? Really?
“Go,” Mrs. Brandt urged. Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to call the woman “mother” or even by her first name. It just felt wrong. “Let us clean up the mess here…”
Mess? Mess? Rebecca had worked her butt off to unload all the boxes from the move, just to avoid this conversation. There were only two boxes to go and they were filled with linens. Yes, linens. Pick them up out of the box then put them in the closet. Such a rescue.
“Really, Rebecca,” Mrs. Brandt said with that sickly sweet Southern accent that hides a barb. “Go and do something with that hair of yours.” There it was.
Rebecca stiffened, getting ready to let her mother-in-law know exactly what Rebecca thought of her mother-in-law’s stacked, ratted hair when a little hand slipped into her own. Kasa. Her daughter gave a squeeze.
She was right. This wasn’t a fight that Rebecca could ever win. So better not to engage at all.
If you couldn’t beat them, join ‘em.
“You know what? I think Kasa and I will go out and get a little Mommy-daughter mani-pedi.”
She looked down to see her daughter frown. Her little tom boy wasn’t all that into primping. Even less than Rebecca, and that was saying something.
“Don’t worry. You can get camo.”
That brought a smiled to Kasa’s lips.
“But…but,” Mrs. Brandt protested. “We wanted to spend time with the kids.”
Kasa’s smile fell as she begged with her liquid brown eyes to spare her from time with her grandparents. It would be two hours of Mrs. Brandt trying to coax, then coerce, then force Kasa to wear a dress.
Unlike her toddler brothers, who appeared to thrive off driving their grandparents crazy, Kasa liked their company about as much as Rebecca. Like mother, like daughter, Rebecca supposed.
She swung her daughter’s hand up and down. “No. I think it is a Mommy-daughter spa day.”
Kasa flashed a look of relief, then released Rebecca’s hand and went over to her Grandmother, hugged her around the legs. “Thank you, Mammy.”
Mrs. Brandt was vain enough that she didn’t let the kids call her Grandma. Hence the Mammy.
Although the twins usually called her “dummy.” Not as an insult, but it was just how they pronounced it. Rebecca guessed it served Mrs. Brandt right.
Before the older woman could think of any excuse to thwart Rebecca and Kasa’s escape, Rebecca m
oved them to the door.
“We’ll be home in a couple of hours,” Rebecca announced, picking up her keys and waving behind her. “Or three. Maybe we’ll do lunch.”
“And a movie?” Kasa suggested.
Oh, yes a movie as well. An entire afternoon without the boys climbing all over her. Let Mrs. Brandt field the screams when they fell off the back of a chair for a few hours.
“Ta ta!” Rebecca announced as she walked out the door.
Once the door was shut firmly behind her, Rebecca pulled out her phone and dialed her husband.
* * *
Brandt stood on Lopez’s shoulders. It was the only position that stabilized them. They were still falling too fast, and he had no idea where Lopez was going to put them down, but it was way better than dangling from a wire.
Even Brandt had to admit Hong Kong was gorgeous at night. The bright lights and deep shadows covered up the city’s less than hygienic streets. People would probably pay for a ride like this, if, you know, there were some safety precautions and a safe end.
The bedazzled world twinkled and winked at them as they swooped between office buildings.
What exactly was Lopez’s plan? Did he even have one?
Lopez was kind of known for his great ideas without any practical planning, yet somehow he pulled them off. Each and every time. Brandt could only hope this rescue was no exception.
Brandt’s private access phone rang in his chest pocket. Rebecca.
It was insane to answer it, yet he knew if he didn’t Rebecca would know that something was up. And he would never hear the end of it. He’d promised her it was simple mission.
Therefore he let go of the parasail lines with one hand and fumbled the phone out.
“Hi, hon…” he answered, trying to sound normal.
“What’s that noise?” Rebecca asked. “It sounds like you are in a wind tunnel?”
“No, just parasailing,” Brandt replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say.
“Seriously? You are off parasailing while you leave me here with Mrs. Cruella?”
This whole “Mom, help Rebecca out with the kids while I’m gone thing” didn’t seem to be working out too well. And Brandt knew how demanding his mother could be. He’d hoped with seeing the kids more often she would chill out, but it seemed the opposite. The more she was around them, the more possessive she’d become.
The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set) Page 25
