by Diana Gardin
The man cares about Sayward like she’s his own daughter. I’ve seen them interact together, and even though he didn’t raise Sayward with his own three daughters, he thought of her like his own. And he’s suffering right now, same as me.
We need to get to her.
Jacob stares around the plane, holding each of our gazes for a beat, holding mine for a second longer. “We’re going to have to play this one by ear, figure out exactly how to work it when we get there. There’s not going to be an elaborate war plan like we’d normally use for a rescue. But Sayward is one of our own, and I’m guessing you’re all okay with that.”
Each of us nods once. No question. We’ll do whatever it takes. As long as the end result is having Sayward on this plane with us when we leave Colombia.
The next couple of hours pass without anyone saying much. The other guys drift in and out of sleep, but I can’t make myself rest. It’d be good for me to catch a couple hours shut-eye, but short of knocking myself out, there’s no way in hell I can sleep. Not while every time I close my eyes all I can see is the hurt, stricken look on Sayward’s face when she ran into my house last night.
I should have grabbed her then, should have held her back and told Valarie to get the hell out right then and there. Those few seconds of hesitation cost me Sayward, and I’m always going to remember that.
I get up to take a piss, and when I walk out of the bathroom Jacob is there, leaning against the wall. He stares me down, and I pause, waiting for it.
“You good?” he finally asks. “I need your head in the game for this. She’s too important for your guilt trip right now. I need you focused. You’re gonna have a job to do once we land in Bogotá.”
I reel back like he’s slapped me. “The only thing I’m focused on right now is her.”
He nods, his blue eyes narrowing. “We all make mistakes. Especially where our women are concerned. You care about her?”
I blow out a breath and stand up straighter. “It’s more than that.”
Jacob nods, like he’s not even a little surprised. “It’s written all over you. When we get her back, make sure you tell her.” He turns, prepared to return to his seat.
That’s it? He’s not gonna lay into me about how royally I fucked up?
“You’re not pissed? Not gonna fire me?” Because let’s face it, I had one job.
Jacob doesn’t look back. “We’ll talk after this mission is over.”
When I settle back in my seat, the intercom comes alive with the copilot’s voice. “Gentlemen, we have about thirty minutes before we begin our descent into Bogotá. Weather is nineteen degrees Celsius, clear skies. Should be a smooth landing.”
I walk out of the bathroom in the hotel Jacob’s contact booked for us, knowing we’d need a place to shower, change, and regroup once we arrived. He’d left us in the lobby, telling us he’d be back within two hours with information on Suarez’s location and whether or not he was keeping Sayward with him.
Toweling my hair off, I sink onto the bed and discard the towel, dropping my face into my hands and taking a deep breath. Hours. It would only be a matter of hours until I had Sayward in my arms again, and only a matter of hours until that fucker who took her from me would either be behind bars or dead.
I don’t really care which.
The bed across from me squeaks, and when I glance up it’s to see Ronin staring at me. There’s concern and sympathy written out all over his face, and I frown because I don’t want either. I don’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.
“She’ll be okay,” he says with authority in his voice. “The woman is strong, stronger than most. There’s something about her, man…Sayward’s a survivor.”
I nod. “Yeah. I know that. She’s coming back to me, and then I can make this shit right.”
A shadow crosses Ronin’s face. “I know you’re blaming yourself for all of this. But it doesn’t all fall in your lap. It was a perfect storm of shit going wrong all at once. I saw the way she looked at you, man. Tell her and you’ll both be okay.”
All I can do is nod.
He glances at the smart watch strapped to his wrist. “Got about twenty minutes before we meet everyone downstairs. Jacob wants to get a quick plan set in place after we hear back from the informant.”
Nodding, I reach for the clothes I’d picked up from a store down the street. I didn’t pack shit before boarding that plane from Wilmington. All I’d been thinking about was getting here. I knew everything else could wait.
“Jacob also wants you to make a list of any supplies you might need. He’s gonna send it to the contact, make sure he brings us everything we might use.”
I lift a brow. “Supplies?”
Ronin’s expression doesn’t change. “We’ll all be armed well…but you? You’re probably gonna need to blow some shit up.”
Understanding dawns on me, and I nod. “Yeah, okay.” I pull out my phone to text Jacob a list.
I finish getting dressed, and ten minutes later finds us sitting down around a solid oak table in a room off the hotel lobby. The manager took a folded-up bill from Jacob to look the other way while we used the room as Jacob laid out a vague-as-fuck war plan while his contact stood off his shoulder.
“Listen, boys. Lockman here’s been living in Bogotá for the past twelve years, and if anyone can get us close enough to Suarez to snatch Sayward, it’s him. His intel tells us that Suarez went straight to his estate after leaving the airport last night. The thirteen-thousand-square-foot mansion sits on sixteen acres of land.”
“That’s it?” Teague glances up, one side of his mouth kicking up into his signature cocky-ass grin.
It’s similar to the one I used to wear, before I went and fell in love with a woman who got herself kidnapped and taken to a foreign country. My grin is nowhere to be found right now.
Jacob nods. “It’s not the largest piece of property, but that’s a big chunk of real estate for this city. It’s not going to be a cakewalk, Brains. Suarez is a dangerous man, and he has a lot of enemies. His estate is something like a fortress, and it’s going to be work to get in and get Sayward out.”
Fuck. I was hoping this shit would be easy. Not because I’m afraid to do the work and get my hands dirty, but because I want Sayward in my arms now. I don’t want her to have to spend one second longer than necessary in the hands of her captor.
“Weak spots on the perimeter?” Conners speaks up. He’s laser-focused, like Abbott and Ronin.
Lockman tugs the backpack from his shoulders and pulls out a hand-sketched map. “This is a drawing of the estate. Here you’ll see the fortress-like wall that stretches around the house. The property line runs out much farther than the wall, and there’s a chain-link fence running the route around the sixteen acres. However, there’s a stream that runs through the back edge of the property, and the land there is wild. We should be able to breach the fence, but we’ll need to take out the security cameras aimed toward each part of the land just before we encounter them.”
Teague opens his laptop. “Damn. Hacking into security systems is Sayward’s thing, but I’m on it.”
“Once we’ve breached the perimeter fence, we can make our way up to the estate wall.”
Abbott nods. “Up and over?”
Lockman frowns. “During broad daylight, with a manned security system and guards on patrol? I don’t think so.”
Frustration bleeds into Abbott’s tone. “Then what the hell do you suggest?”
Grisham’s nickname is Ghost because he built up a reputation for being able to get into enemy territory without that enemy ever knowing he was coming. He’s a planner, a strategist, and walking into the situation blind is wearing him down. He’s fucking pissed that he hasn’t had the opportunity to study the map of the Suarez compound before now. It’s scrawled out all over his expression.
Lockman aims a cool stare in Abbott’s direction. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to figure out?”
Grisham stands, his chair scrap
ing back as irritation turns to outright pissed-offedness on his face. Jacob stands, too, a hand on Abbott’s chest.
“All right, settle down.” Jacob’s voice is forceful without being loud. “Take the map. You have twenty minutes with it, and when you come back I want you to tell us how we’re getting over that goddamned wall.”
Fuck that shit. I respect Abbott and his skills, but I can’t sit through this. I stand, too. “We don’t have twenty minutes. If we can’t go over the fucking wall, then we’re going through.”
Everyone’s eyes move to me, Ronin’s mouth tipping up in a “hell yeah” grin.
Jacob lifts a brow. “If we blow a hole in the wall, we lose the element of surprise.”
Abbott starts to grin, a slow smile that lets me know he’s on to something. “Not necessarily. Not if they think the explosion is mechanical.” He scans the map again, and this time, his face lights up. “See, right here. There’s an aboveground propane tank here. Probably used to heat the entire estate. We blow it up, Suarez’s people think it’s just the tank blowing. It’s a diversion. It gets us inside.”
I nod, knowing I can rig a propane tank to explode in my sleep. Glancing around at my team, I feel the nervous energy animating me, pushing me to move.
“Let’s do this. Let’s get my girl the fuck out.”
27
Sayward
The car travels up a long, winding driveway. When we stop outside a tall, stucco wall my mouth falls open. Who does this man think he is? A king?
The entire time I’ve been forced to be with Suarez, he’s given off an air of importance. Like nothing can touch him. He’s nothing more than a criminal, but he carries himself like a prince. He’s prideful, and he treats the people around him like lowly staff members. Does he have a single friend? Anyone he loves, trusts, cherishes?
Marcos hasn’t spoken since he explained to me what happened to his family a few hours ago. But he speaks now from his place beside me. “Is my family here?” His voice is flat. He stares out his window, and I can’t see his face in order to read his expression.
I bet if I could, his face would be as flat as his tone. Marcos isn’t a monster. He sold me out to save his family; it was an impossible choice. Logic has always been more understandable to me than emotion. But this isn’t some situation I’m judging from the outside. This is my brother, my family. Betrayal threatens to overwhelm me; my chest aches and I keep rubbing at the spot, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. But who’s really to blame? Marcos? Me, for trusting him?
Or Pablo Suarez?
Of course, the answer is the Colombian cartel’s leader.
Suarez glances back at Marcos from his place in the front seat. “We had a deal, Mr. Diaz. And you lived up to your end. Your family is waiting for you inside the estate. Once we arrive, you’ll all be free to go. Well, not all of you.” He glances at me and smiles.
I hate his smile. It sends nausea swishing through my belly, and I can feel my skin growing pale under his cool stare.
Marcos looks at me then, really looks at me. Before I turn away, I see pure pain and regret flash in his eyes. He wishes he could save me, and I wish there was some way I could absolve him. I wish I could tell him it’s okay, that he’ll have his family and that’s all he needs to worry about.
But I can’t find the words, so I say nothing.
The car pauses outside a gate in the wall, where the driver scans an identification card. The monitor at the gate beeps, and then the iron railing swings open. The car continues its slow progression up the winding driveway. We roll to a stop in front of the most massive home I’ve ever seen. It’s more like a castle, with stucco walls and a red-tile roof. Manicured lawns surround the estate, palm trees the most prominent feature on the grounds. Everything here is like a tropical paradise, a mecca of peacefulness and civility, which I know is a complete farce.
Maybe this is where Pablo Suarez comes to relax, where he finds solace from the horrible, gruesome acts he performs every day. But to me? This is just another form of hell.
The passenger door opens, and one of the members of Suarez’s security team pulls me out by my arm. His grip is too tight, and I wince, but I don’t bother to try to jerk my arm away. There would be no point.
I’m immediately towed toward the house, and I hear Marcos’s voice behind me shouting with panic.
“Wait! Let me say good-bye to her!”
No on answers him. Marcos’s voice rises. “Where’s my family?”
Suarez chuckles. “Family?”
I jerk my body to a stop, righting against the man dragging me along. “Wait. Stop! You promised him his family!”
Wrenching my body around to find Suarez’s evil smile fixed on me, I shiver.
“We’ll see how well you behave,” he say, his voice full of darkness. “Maybe your brother can have his family back eventually. But for now? You all come inside.”
Marcos’s bellow of fury echoes behind me as I’m jerked around and forced to walk again.
Inside me, cold fear settles heavily in my limbs. I thought that me being his prisoner, and eventually his example, would be enough. That it would mean my nephew would live.
But what if all of this was for nothing?
I’m led inside through two enormous double doors into a white-tiled foyer. The entry hall of the mansion is grand, just like the exterior. I don’t have much time to evaluate the bright, airy atmosphere or the colorful art pieces on the wide expanses of walls because I’m corralled straight up one side of a double staircase and thrust into a cavernous room. The shiny wooden door slams behind me, and when I glance back I see two men dressed all in black, members of Suarez’s security team, taking up their post inside the closed door.
Turning back to the room, I glance around me with tightness in my stomach. So many emotions are swirling around inside, I don’t know which one to focus on first. I’m terrified, because I know that at some point in the very near future Suarez plans to end my life. I’m sad, because even after betraying me, my brother still doesn’t have his family back. But hope manages to spread, strange and unexpected, though my heart because despite the bleakness of my situation, I know the Rescue Ops better than anyone else. I know that if anyone has a chance to survive this, I do. Because of them.
But there’s a very real and present danger lurking somewhere in this big, beautiful mansion. And his name is Pablo Suarez.
I drop into a big, comfortable leather chair. This room appears to be some kind of office or study, because there are shelves lined with books and comfortable seating, but there’s also a massive L-shaped desk and a laptop computer. My eyes linger on the laptop, my fingers twitching with the desire to run to it and pull it open.
What would I find on Suarez’s computer?
Staring around at all the books, I’m almost tickled into laughter. What kind of books does the head of a drug cartel like to read? It’s such an absurd thought. Everything about this monster is juxtaposed. It’s like he thinks he was born into royalty, someone whose blood makes them better than everyone else. But really, all he is, is a thug.
I’m sure Suarez wouldn’t appreciate the thought.
The two men beside the door stare straight ahead, and the silence in the room grows heavy, oppressive.
“How long?” I ask them. “Until he hangs me in the town square?”
One man snorts. “You won’t hang unless you disobey. You’re Suarez’s property now. He owns you. Like a pretty, shiny trophy. Your brother and his family, on the other hand?” He curls his fingers into a cruel good-bye wave.
My stomach rolls as I turn away from his sickening face.
As a protective instinct, my mind wanders: away from this room, across an ocean, to a town that I call home. To a little, perfect house beside the waves, where a man I never saw coming lives.
Bennett.
The thought of him, the picture of his beautiful face as it flickers through my mind, is almost enough to make me crumble.
I m
iss him.
I shouldn’t have left him. What happened when he talked to Valarie? Does she want another chance with him? I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t, now that I’ve spent time with him. The way Bennett Blacke made me feel, both between the sheets and out of bed, was enough to change my life. I can’t imagine being with another man, not ever. He changed me in ways I never could have expected. He made me see myself as someone who could be beautiful. Desired.
Loved.
And now I may never get the chance to thank him for that. How far away is my team? Could Jeremy find the information they would have needed to locate me?
God…the hope. I almost don’t want it to take flight inside my chest, because the crushing effect of disappointment will kill me faster than Suarez ever could.
Again, I glance at the laptop on the desk, before darting a look toward the men by the door. They seem bored.
I lean my head back against the leather of my chair and close my eyes.
28
Bennett
Hold tight for just a sec…there. Video feed to that portion of the perimeter fence is down. You have thirty seconds.”
Teague’s voice travels clearly through the coms, the tiny earpiece he outfitted me is working perfectly despite the wooded environment. Around us, wildlife continues about their business without caution. Five men with Special Forces training creeping through the woods with almost silent precision isn’t a disturbance that alarms them. It’s like we aren’t even here. Glancing around at the other members of the team, I take less than a second to think about the fact that I’m doing this again.
I’m dressed in camouflage cargo pants and a brown T-shirt, blending in with my surroundings, outfitted with protective gear and highly specialized weapons, carrying a duffle on my back filled with bomb-making supplies.
