Wolfsbane

by Ronie Kendig

  “Not sure what he thinks he’s doing, going all Lone Ranger on us.” The Kid seemed to have grown up a few years as he sat next to Legend. “But it’s what we do. Of course, I’m missing a hot date chasing this rogue.”

  “I had jury duty.” Squirt smirked.

  “My nephew begged me to take him sailing.”

  The taunting, meant to ease the tension, only increased Canyon’s. “I’m doing what’s right. I never asked you to come down here.”

  Max frowned at him. “We work as a team, plan as a team, move as a team. Always.”

  Elbows propped on his knees, Canyon peered from beneath his brows at the team leader. “A bit hard to do when you’re removed from said team.”

  Hard, unmoving eyes held his. “You looking to get kicked off again?”

  “That mean I’m back on the team?”

  “Give the boy a cookie!” Legend clapped.

  Silence held the moment captive. They seemed ready to move beyond what happened the last time they were in this godforsaken jungle. But Canyon wasn’t sure he was ready to let it go. He felt betrayed. Abandoned. Discarded.

  Just like my dad.

  Grinding his molars, he steepled his fingers and looked down at his boots. Knots rolled through his shoulders and neck as he chose his words carefully. Threatening was pointless. Slowly he lifted his head and met the gaze of each team member. “You need to know where I stand. I’d never leave one of you behind, and I won’t leave her. I’m here till this is done, till Roark’s home.”

  With a long sigh, Legend leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “Look, it needs to be said: None of us likes what happened. The mission got screwed up. Were we wrong to let them drag you out of there and leave her?” Legend shrugged. “God knows. Did we have a choice?” Another shrug. “To me, no. I didn’t want to be pumped full of a drug and kill my ability to function. What they did to you was wrong. And they paid—thanks to Frogman’s fists.”

  Surprise tugged Canyon back as he looked to Frogman, whose steady gaze met him. Max had fought someone? On his behalf?

  “But right now, priority one is getting your girl back.” Legend’s deep voice rattled through the hot night air. “A divided team cannot succeed. Let’s put this behind us.”

  It was the right thing to do no matter how the dice rolled.

  A rustling to the side drew his attention. Sitting up, Range watched him—intently. So much so that Canyon heard an unspoken question of disbelief. His mind scissored back to Legend’s words. In fact, two words. Your girl.

  And it hit him that his brother’s expression wasn’t intense curiosity, but rather fierce determination. A reminder that Canyon had promised to back off once they got home.

  The guys would never understand the bargain he’d made out of desperation to find Roark. The thought of getting her back and letting her go flipped through his gut and struck a nerve that radiated from his brain to his heart. Maybe Roark would hold out for him.

  Frogman’s eyes held a mischievous gleam. “You ready to do this?”

  With a quiet resolution carving itself through Canyon’s soul, he nodded. He straightened and nodded again, this time stronger. “Let’s hit it.”

  The first hint of a smile crossed Max’s face. “First—Old Man, we’ve got a rendezvous set up to get you out of here. No way we can do this with you down here.”

  “I’m here. Let me be of use.”

  “Sorry,” Max said. “You’ve blown our covers and any further exposure puts us another inch in the grave.”

  Canyon watched the Old Man and saw an intense grief and vulnerability skate into the weathered features. Lambert held a secret almost as bad as Canyon’s. And the team didn’t know. Though he didn’t like the decision Frogman handed down, it was clear Lambert wouldn’t argue.

  “Take Midas’s brother,” Max said.

  “No!” Range’s voice shot through the discussion.

  Max glared.

  Legend pointed at Range and shook his head. “Sorry, little man, you don’t have a say. You’re a liability.”

  Range hobbled over to Canyon, grunting as he held his splinted leg. “You can’t let them do this. I got you down here.”

  Canyon clenched his jaw tight.

  “Tell them.” Range leaned in closer. “You promised—”

  “No.” White-hot fire spread down Canyon’s spine. “What I promised is that I’d back off once she was back home. What I didn’t promise was that you’d be on every aspect of the mission.” He jerked his brother aside as he looked at the others. “They’re right, Range. You’d slow us down, and you’d be a flaming beacon to the VFA.”

  Range opened his mouth.

  “Trust me.”

  Conflicted eyes held his, but what Canyon saw almost leveled him.

  “Why’d he call her ‘your girl’?”

  Canyon swallowed, glancing to Legend, now engrossed in talks with Frogman and Squirt.

  Range gripped Canyon’s vest. “So help me if you steal her—”

  He slapped his brother’s hand free. “Back off, Range. I swore I’d give you room, and I’ll do it, even if it kills me.” Breathing was a chore. He glared at his little brother. “Not for you. For Roark. So she has a chance to say who she wants.”

  His brother’s mouth gaped. “You … you really want her, don’t you?”

  “What I want is Roark safe on American soil. Safe out of Bruzon’s hands.”

  “You are in love with her.” Range shook his head. “Did you turn her away from me, Canyon?”

  “What matters right now is that if you want her alive to make a decision, then you have to get out of the way.” His chest rose and fell hard as the words left his lips.

  Torment colored Range’s face, even in the darkness. Finally through gritted teeth he said, “I don’t like this.”

  Foul and rank, his displeasure pushed Canyon away from his brother. “Don’t have to.” He sure didn’t like the idea of rescuing Roark to bring her home to his brother. “This is the way it works.”

  “It’s not your brother who I love, okay?”

  Canyon fisted a hand. Would she still feel that way once he got her back? Or would she hate him eternally for deserting her? For—as she wrongly suggested—using her and leaving her?

  And maybe it’d seal the coffin on their relationship.

  “Gather up,” Max said. “Here’s the plan …”

  Bruzon’s Estate, Venezuela 22 May

  The door opened. Dani’s heart catapulted into her throat, choking. Hours ago, she’d thought Bruzon had finally come but it’d been a guard, retrieving something from an adjoining room. He sneered at her and left. She’d worked the letter opener on the cuffs, but to no avail.

  Now that voices approached once more, she gripped the opener tighter—it slipped. She frowned and panicked as the handle grew slick in her sweaty palm. Couldn’t get a solid grasp. The door opened. She glanced back. At the hulk of a man towering over the threshold.

  A scowl spread over Bruzon’s ruddy face. “What are you doing?” In that split second his gaze bounced from her face to her hands. His eyes bulged. “No!”

  Dani whipped back to her task. She clasped both hands around the letter opener—

  It slipped again. Plopped onto the pillow … slid out of view.

  “No,” she gasped and dropped to her knees on the mattress to catch it.

  A weight slammed into her back. Her cheek hit the headboard. Thud! Pain darted across her face and neck.

  “You little witch!” Bruzon’s hand dug into her hair and yanked her head backward.

  She wailed as he flopped her onto the bed, her hands twisted and anchored overhead. Her joints stretched and pulled.

  “What? You think killing yourself will help?” Foul and reeking of liquor, his breath blew into her face. “It just makes you all the more fun.”

  Dani recoiled. She kicked up her legs. Connected with the back of his head.

  He cursed. But the action only seemed t
o invigorate him. A sick grin seeped into his jowls. Without mercy, he ripped her shirt off. Like tearing toilet paper, the arms detached from the rest of the material due to her restraints.

  Feeling the chilled air-conditioned air against her bare abdomen speared her with panic. Dani screamed and thrashed. The shackles sliced into her soft flesh, searing, but the pain didn’t come within a mile of what radiated through her soul. If she didn’t stop him … “No!” Hair tangled over her wet face. Heat rushed through her face, embarrassment bleeding into fury. “Get off me!”

  He clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Dani chomped into his palm.

  He cursed again. Smacked her hard. The sting stirred her conviction to escape. Gone was the girl who believed compliance would make the bad things stop. Gone was the girl who clung to vain hope that someone would save her. In many ways, she found the girl she’d lost a year ago. Nobody saved her. Not back then. Not today—especially not Canyon.

  Besides, she would not be Bruzon’s pleasure toy. She wouldn’t endure him. Ever. Again. “You stinking, fat pig.” She arched her back and rocked her body to dislodge his weight.

  Bruzon pawed at her, determined to have his way. He dropped on her, a breathy, sickening laugh seeping though his chest.

  Dani railed at the feeling of his hands running over her body. Over her will. Then, like from an old dragon, came a fiery, smothering sensation. She remembered it—fear drowning her in panic. If she didn’t somehow regain control of herself, of her fear, she’d pass out. Just as she had dozens of times before as his captive. If she yielded to this, he could do whatever he wanted. Dani again thrust her legs into his head.

  Muttering more curses, Bruzon wrestled, grunting as he battled to secure her beneath his bulk. He hauled back and punched her.

  Stars and spots leapt into her vision. But in the second that his hands went to the button on her jeans she jolted out of it. Yet her strength was failing, the energy pouring out of her limbs. “No! Please, no …” She was losing … A whimper.

  Bruzon leered at her.

  Distant shouts stilled the beast atop her.

  “General! General!” a man’s yell carried through the house, probably from the stairs—feet pounded against the wood … closer. . closer still.

  Bruzon launched off the bed and rushed across the room. He flung open the door. “¿Qué pasó?”

  “Sir.” Navas appeared and looked into the room at her.

  Cold shame turned Dani away, cowering in her bra and jeans. Her gaze hit something near the fireplace. What? A bottle. It wasn’t just a bottle, but a vinegar bottle. Maybe the servant had been cleaning the smoke stains from the fireplace.

  Hope surged within her tactical brain, and she knew in that second she might have a way out of here. Her gaze jumped to the metal keyhole on the marble mantel. Gas powered. Yes!

  Now to find peroxide. Dani curled into the headboard. Ignoring the blood streaking down her arm, she pushed wet, matted hair from her face to see into the bathroom.

  “What is it?” Bruzon demanded.

  “It’s Catalina. She’s … gone. Escaped.”

  His wife? Bruzon’s wife escaped? What did that mean? Why would someone’s wife escape? Okay, stupid question. Anyone with a brain would want to flee that man. Regardless, Dani needed peroxide. Combined with the vinegar, the peroxide provided the hope of creating an ignition source—of course, she’d need fire, which she hoped to get from the gas fireplace and a spark …

  “Find her!” Bruzon stuffed his hands into his shirt as he stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed.

  This was her chance. Heart racing, Dani shoved from the bed and wedged herself between the nightstand and wall. Staring at the sleeves that hung at her elbows, she wanted to crumble. Blend into the corner and fall apart. Instead, she saw the cord to the lamp. A spark. Could she get a spark from that somehow?

  A scraping jerked her around.

  In the wall near the secretary desk, a panel slid back. Catalina emerged, face radiant. “It’s time.” She rushed to the bed and produced a key.

  Confusion entombed Dani as the woman joined her. “Time for what?”

  “To get out of here. You must come with me. I can help you.”

  “If he catches us—”

  “He will not.” Catalina raised her chin and her brown eyes shone. “I’ve made sure.” She nodded to Dani’s cuffed hands and slipped the key into the catch.

  The shackles fell away and with it the suffocation of captivity.

  Catalina looked at Dani’s bare torso. “Un momento.” She rushed to another room.

  Seizing the chance, Dani darted into the bathroom and searched the cabinets. If Catalina could get them out of here, then she could fry Bruzon, make sure he never hurt another girl or person again. Frustration coaxed out a foul mood as she considered the contents of the cabinet. He had everything in there—bandages, rubbing alcohol …

  Aha! She snatched the bottle and hurried into the bedroom. She flung back the glass doors and reached into the firebox. With a yank on the coiled cable running from the wall, she angled the cord toward the front. She dumped the flowers on the floor then carefully poured the vinegar and hydrogen peroxide in.

  A gasp from behind. “What are you doing?”

  “What I do best—blowing this place up.” Once the flame started, it’d ignite the peracetic acid she’d made by combining the two chemicals. That would then rupture the gas line. It’d go global within minutes if not seconds.

  “Why would you do this?”

  Dani jerked and looked at Catalina. “To make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

  A rush of air preceded the girl dropping to her side. “You cannot!”

  “How can you say that? Look what’s he done to you, to me.”

  She clapped a hand on Dani’s forearm. “Please.” Wide eyes begged her. “I have family here. Friends. They are good people. And killing him does not make the pain in here”—she tapped Dani’s chest—“go away.”

  Maybe. But a sense of vindication and justice would be gained. Still … she didn’t want to be a killer, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Catalina was right—the pain wouldn’t go away. Might dim it a bit, but she’d have to live with the murder of every servant in this house for the rest of her life.

  Defeated, Dani gave a slow nod.

  “Hurry! Before he returns.” Catalina stood and held out a blue button-down. “Here. Put it on as we go.” With a prod, she nudged Dani into the passage.

  Chilled and damp, darkness enveloped her.

  CHAPTER 31

  Bruzon’s Estate

  22 May

  Crack!

  Lightning snaked through the sky and turned night to day for three long seconds. At least, for Max and the others who stood exposed and illuminated for those three seconds. Holding his position by a small shed, he leaned against it and squinted against the bright flash. Ahead five meters, Midas scrambled for cover behind a transformer box.

  Within seconds, darkness snapped across the compound.

  M4 cradled in his arms, Max hustled through the trees. Shadows skittered to his three o’clock and gave him peace of mind knowing the others were on target.

  Screaming sirens pierced the night.

  The alarms shoved him against a tree. At his six, Aladdin gave a firm nod. All good. Peering around the bark, Max scanned the estate, assessing potential hazards and routes. The lights on the pool could reveal one of his men. Gazebo and patio furniture could provide concealment.

  Floodlights flicked on. Shouts erupted. Concealed in the shadows on the courtyard’s perimeter he looked across the chlorinated water and checked both sides of the house as thunder growled through the heavy clouds. VFA soldiers poured out of every door and crevice. They darted north—the front of the house.

  They know we’re here. Max’s heart raced. Hold up. No. All the firepower was headed away from Nightshade, not toward them. What’s going on?

  Use it. They had th
e perfect distraction.

  He keyed his mic. “Cowboy, you got thermals?” With Cowboy and Legend hidden in the hills, they had their sixes covered.

  “Roger.”

  “What do you see?”

  The void of night held them hostage as they waited for Cowboy’s assessment. “I’m blind. Walls must be dense concrete or thick metal.”

  Via hand signals, Max sent Canyon, Squirt, and the Kid ahead, praying the HUMINT provided by Lambert was solid, that beyond the back wall of the house sat another structure, one that most likely held the girl. They moved quickly, the swish of their tactical pants barely noticeable with the chaos tumbling out of the mansion.

  Using the bound-and-cover tactic of clearing, the guys moved swiftly as Max held his position outside, monitoring the direction from which they’d come. As a trio of “clear” came through the coms, Max knew he’d been right. Somehow, Lambert had gotten bad information.

  Minutes delivered the Kid, Squirt, and Canyon back to the point of entry. Their plan had contained the contingency that the girl wouldn’t be here. Next step: the main house. That meant the most danger, too.

  With a split-second assessment, he picked his next source of cover—a dozen feet northeast of his present location. He darted into a cluster of trees.

  Thwap! Thwap!

  Bark leapt at him, biting his cheek. He ducked and dived at the tree. “Taking fire!”

  “What is happening?”

  “The demons of hell have been unleashed.” Humberto stormed through his home and rubbed at his temple where a headache roared to life. What was that god-awful smell?

  Behind him, the telltale scritch of Michael Roark’s expensive shoes sounded. “I thought we were safe here. You said—”

  “It seems someone is trying to interrupt my schedule.”

  “What schedule is that?”

  Bruzon snickered at the edge of the foyer, his hand on the brass knob leading to the pool patio. “Come, Michael. You are a naive fool but you’re not that stupid. The nukes.”

  The man’s face paled. “What nukes?” He shuffled forward. “You said it was a ruse.”