by Maya Banks
“Fuck,” Cole murmured. “That’s pretty solid evidence. I vote we go in.”
Steele turned his attention to Baker and Renshaw. “What do you have for me?”
“It’s not good,” Baker said. “As Cole said, high concrete walls surround the main house. Two gates, both heavily guarded. We have a few options.”
“Give them to me,” Steele said tersely.
“Well, we can blow our way through the concrete walls. Going to take a fuckload of explosives and it still only gives us one way out unless you want to split up and go in one way and blow our way out the other. We can bust through the gates, but again, they’d know immediately we were there and it would still take time to go through the compound and secure it. Especially since we don’t know where the fuck he’s holding Maren.”
Steele and Donovan exchanged uneasy glances. Steele wasn’t liking either option.
“Or,” Renshaw said. “We can do a helo drop into the compound. Hit them hard and fast, load the chopper and get the hell out. P.J.? Cole? You guys detect any rocket launchers? Think they’re that armed?”
P.J. frowned. “Not that I saw. He has heavy firepower, but all I laid eyes on were the rifles, and he has plenty of those. We’d be dumbasses not to plan for the worst, though.”
“Where are we going to get our hands on a chopper big enough to carry all of us and offer enough protection that we don’t get our asses shot off when we’re lifting off and getting the fuck out of there?” Baker asked.
Donovan grimaced. “Damn good question.”
“Fuck it all,” Steele swore. “This is not the way I wanted this to go down.”
“I know we all want to go in and get her out, but we have to be smart about this,” Donovan said. “We need to call in another team, have Rio get us a chopper. He has the connections and could get it done a hell of a lot faster than us trying to get a contact locally. He could be here in a few hours if we call him up now. For that matter, Nathan and Joe and their team could be here not long after that. If we wait twenty-four hours before we go in, we’ll have enough manpower and planning time to ensure this goes smoothly without getting us or Maren killed in the process.”
“And what is Maren enduring in the meantime?” Steele said in a deadly soft voice.
P.J. flinched and nodded her agreement.
Donovan ran a hand through his hair and exhaled in a deep rush. “We don’t have another option. I hate the idea of not knowing what that son of a bitch is subjecting Maren to, but the very last thing we need is to go in and get our asses handed to us, get ourselves and Maren killed. If I had to choose between her staying where she is another day and suffering that bastard’s attention or going in prematurely and getting her and us killed, I think you know what my choice is.”
Steele turned away and clenched his fingers into fists as helpless rage boiled through his veins. Fuck it all but they were in an impossible situation. It brought to mind too readily the time when P.J. had been in the hands of a goddamn monster and the entire team had been forced to listen to her being brutalized and were helpless to stop it. He never wanted to feel that again. Ever.
And now they faced a very similar situation. In a lot of ways it was worse because they didn’t know what kind of situation Maren was in. They were flying blind and could only hope like hell that she wasn’t being subjected to any kind of abuse.
It made him crazy to imagine what she could be going through. To imagine that bastard’s hands on her. Hurting her. Her being helpless and without hope. He’d seen the very worst people had to offer. He’d taken down a lot of assholes in his time. But he’d never felt this kind of blinding fury. It rattled him. Made him second-guess every decision he was making. And Steele was nothing if not decisive. He’d always been able to calculate each situation with complete cool and calm.
All he could see was Maren’s sweet, smiling face, and he knew he wouldn’t rest until he had her back. Safe. Where she belonged.
“What’s it going to be, Steele?” Donovan asked quietly. “It’s your call. But whatever we do, we need to move fast. There’s a hell of lot to do in two days’ time.”
Steele turned back around, his jaw still locked tight in frustration. He blew out a deep breath. No, he didn’t want to wait another fucking day to go in and get Maren the hell out of there. But he had to play this smart. They needed more firepower. They were up against a hell of a lot for one team—no matter how good they were—to handle. And as badly as he wanted to get Maren to safety, he wasn’t going to risk her life to achieve that objective.
“Call Sam. Get the other team on the way. Then we need to contact Rio and see what he can help us with.” He glanced up at Dolphin. “Get me a layout of the compound. We have zero room for errors. This has to be mapped out to the nth degree.”
“I’ll put in a call to Resnick,” Donovan said.
The entire group went silent. Steele swung his gaze to Donovan, his eyes narrowing.
“Why the hell would you call Resnick?” Steele demanded.
“A guy like Mendoza is in some deep shit. No way he’s clean. With the kind of manpower he’s fronting? Who the hell has a fucking army guarding his residence complete with watchtowers and manned gates? Only someone with enemies and a reason to fear attack has that kind of setup.”
“So where does Resnick come into the picture? I still don’t like it. Every time Resnick pokes his nose in, it gets too fucking complicated. The last thing I want is Uncle Sam breathing down our necks when we’re trying to get Maren away from some batshit-crazy kidnapper.”
“Hooyah,” Cole muttered.
“Hell yeah, hooyah,” Dolphin chimed in.
“That even gets a hooyah from me,” P.J. said.
Baker and Resnick both voiced their agreements.
Donovan held up his hands, much like Sam always did when things got out of hand and he wanted calm.
“Before this dissolves into outright mutiny, here’s the thing. It’s possible Resnick has intel on Mendoza that can help us. If he can lend us resources? Even better. It would certainly help us out if we had Uncle Sam in our pockets. Maren is too important for us not to pull out all the stops and avail ourselves of every advantage we can.”
The group went silent. Donovan had scored a huge point and he knew it. When he put it like that, they could hardly argue over whether to consult with Resnick. If it gave them the upper hand with Mendoza, they’d be fools not to utilize him.
“Okay, you call Resnick,” Steele conceded. “I’ll get on the horn with Rio first and get him headed this way and tell him we need a chopper. If he has any team members he can reach and get here in time, I’ll pull them along with the other team. Cole, while Donovan and I are making those calls, I need you to contact Sam. Brief him on the situation and tell him we need the other team as fast as they can haul ass down here.”
“You got it, boss man,” Cole said. “Let’s get this show on the road already.”
CHAPTER 18
STEELE simmered with impatience as everyone reported in two miles from Mendoza’s compound. Rio had been the first to arrive, his right-hand man, Terrence, with him. Diego had come in just a few hours behind Rio. Steele could only assume the rest of Rio’s team hadn’t been able to make it on such short notice.
Nathan and Joe had flown in with their team and were accompanied by Sam. Only Garrett and Ethan remained behind at the KGI headquarters. Sam had pulled out all the stops for this mission. Maren was one of them, and they weren’t going to rest until she was safe.
And finally, Resnick had arrived, accompanied by Kyle Phillips and his black ops team that worked for Resnick. Steele had no idea if Kyle’s team was government sanctioned or if they were completely off the books. Steele’s money was on the latter. He was positive that his tax dollars paid the black ops team’s salary, but that money, like so much else, disappeared into a black hole and was recorded as some bullshit expenditure courtesy of the U.S. government.
Resnick and Kyle Phillips hurried u
p to where Steele, Rio, Donovan and Sam stood. The teams gathered loosely around so they could listen in on what Resnick had to say. As usual, Resnick had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and as soon as he finished one, he was quick to light up another. A more nervous, agitated bastard, Steele had never met. He still wasn’t too keen on the fact that KGI had kissed and made up with Resnick after he’d fucked them over in the past. But it was Sam’s call whether to use him. Only now Steele had more of a personal stake, whether he liked that or not. Maren wasn’t just under his skin. She was inside him permanently. She belonged to him. He’d staked his claim whether she realized it or not.
He’d listen to what Resnick had to say, but this was still his fucking mission and it would be done his way. Whatever Resnick had for them, it must be pretty damn important because Resnick had refused to say shit over the phone. Instead, he’d hopped a damn plane with his black ops group and hustled down to give his report in person. They didn’t have time for this shit. Steele was itching to move in. The sooner they quit fucking around with reports and intel, the sooner Maren would be back in his arms, where she was safe. And he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving her unprotected ever again.
“We’re wasting time,” Steele said impatiently. “Say what you have to say so we can move out. Every minute we waste is another minute Maren is in that bastard’s hands.”
Resnick nodded and stabbed another cigarette into his mouth. “Look, Mendoza is up to his ears in arms and drug trafficking. Thought KGI would find it interesting that he cropped up after you took Alex Mouton down and we dismantled his entire operation and seized his assets.”
Sam’s gaze sharpened. Alex Mouton had been his wife Sophie’s father—or rather her uncle since it was later discovered that Alex’s brother had actually fathered Sophie. The world was definitely a better place without the Mouton brothers. They’d caused Sophie—and KGI—no small amount of grief. But especially Sophie.
“He took up where Mouton left off. Took over his operations. Expanded rapidly.”
“It’s like fucking Whac-A-Mole,” Cole muttered.
Resnick nodded. “For every one we take down, two or more pop up to take their places. It’s a dog-eat-dog business. If we don’t take them down, they take out each other. The weak get culled and the strong, ruthless ones rise to the top.”
“What intel do you have on Mendoza?” Steele cut in, determined to get to the point. They were wasting too much fucking time with the idle chitchat.
“Cagey bastard,” Resnick muttered. “Slippery as a goddamn eel. He changes names and appearances like most people do underwear. I have profiles on him under a dozen different aliases, and those are just the ones I know about. There are probably just as many if not more that I don’t know of. Every government agency in the West has a major hard on for him. He’s number four on my agency’s most-wanted list, but if he isn’t taken down soon, he’ll be number one in short order. I want him. That’s why I’m here and my team is here. We’ll do whatever we can to assist. And if we nail Mendoza, I’m going to need to take DNA samples to verify his identity because he’s had plastic surgery multiple times and he even has his fingerprints surgically altered.”
“Then let’s quit fucking around and get on it,” Steele said in irritation.
“I’m with Steele,” Donovan said.
There were murmurs of agreement all the way around.
Resnick nodded. “Your call. Sam said this was your mission.”
“Let’s roll,” Steele said. “P.J., Cole, you two take Joe and Skylar with you. Get into position and pick off what you can when we helo in.” Then he glanced at Kyle Phillips. He knew the young Marine wouldn’t like taking orders from him, but that was too damn bad. “You and your team go in from the ground. The rest of us are going to helo in. When you see the helicopter, blast your way in but make damn sure Maren doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.”
“Yes sir,” Kyle said.
Kyle turned and motioned for his team and they headed out, melting into the woods that would take them to the perimeter of Mendoza’s holding.
Steele surveyed the remaining team members. With Baker, Renshaw and Dolphin left from his team and Nathan, Edge and Swanny from the other team plus Sam, Donovan, Rio, Terrence, Diego and Resnick that made a total of thirteen. They had sufficient numbers to ace this operation no matter how heavily armed Mendoza’s men were.
“You flying the chopper Rio brought?” Steele asked Donovan.
Donovan jerked his thumb toward Nathan. “He knows more about choppers than I do. I can fly pretty much anything, but he can fly them better.”
“Let’s go then.”
They did a quick weapons check, tested their radios and receivers and then lifted off. Steele ran down the checklist in terse tones until everyone was clear on their assignments.
The helicopter buzzed low, clipping the tops of the canopy of trees and then burst into the clearing where the compound was sprawled. The atmosphere inside the chopper was tense. Expressions were focused and grim. Rifles rose, gripped tightly as they prepared to do the helo drop inside the walls.
“On my signal,” Steele barked.
The chopper swooped in and hovered several feet off the ground. Below them, men scattered in all directions, taking cover.
“Go! Go! Go!” Steele shouted.
They dropped from both sides of the chopper, rifles up. From the corner of Steele’s eye he saw the men in the guard towers start dropping like flies. The snipers were doing their jobs.
They fanned out, chaos surrounding them. A heavy explosion rocked the ground, and smoke and pieces of stone blew into the courtyard. The staccato of gunfire filled the air. Hoarse shouts, a few screams. Fuck, there were women.
“Watch for the women,” he barked into his mic. “Take as few casualties as possible. I want a sweep of the entire house. Find Maren and make sure she’s covered.”
Without waiting for confirmation, Steele moved through the courtyard, his eyes peeled for any sign of Maren. Many of Mendoza’s men were on the ground, facedown, hands cupped behind their heads as KGI and Resnick’s team yelled for them to get down and stay down.
“Guard towers clear,” P.J. radioed. “We’re moving in to be your secondary.”
Steele hurried toward the glass doors that had already been shattered by gunfire. Once inside he stayed to the walls, moving stealthily through each room. When he got to the large living room in the center of the house, one of Mendoza’s armed guards appeared carrying a machine gun. As soon as he signaled his intent to shoot, Steele dropped him. He stepped over the body and hit the stairs.
No one was upstairs. It was quiet and the rooms were empty. He made quick work of the bedrooms and the two bathrooms and came upon what appeared to be Mendoza’s study last. Finding it empty, he swore. Where the hell was Maren?
“Report,” he said into the mic. “Upstairs is clear. No sign of Maren.”
There was a lengthy silence, and then one by one the others checked in. No sign of Maren or Mendoza.
“I’m coming down,” Steele said.
“Downstairs is clear,” Donovan reported.
Steele took the steps two at a time and burst back into the living room where Donovan, Sam and Dolphin were standing.
“Where the fuck is she?” Steele demanded. “We have to be missing something. Bastard must have a hidey-hole he stashed himself and her in when we hit the ground.”
“The outside is secure. Kyle Phillips and his team along with the rest of ours are rounding up the riffraff now,” Donovan said.
“This was too damn easy,” Sam growled. “I would say they were expecting us, but judging by the panic and chaos when we started shooting, Mendoza’s guards were caught with their pants down. Doesn’t sound at all like the man Resnick described.”
Steele had a very bad feeling about this, and his gut never steered him wrong.
Resnick burst in, and for once he didn’t have a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He l
ooked pissed and frustrated.
“We got nothing out there,” he said. “Grounds are secure. Apart from the guards in the tower, we have minimal casualties. They couldn’t give up fast enough when the shooting started.”
“Pull in everyone who isn’t standing guard over Mendoza’s people,” Steele ordered. “I want a thorough sweep of the entire area.”
An hour later, the members of KGI gathered in the living room all wearing grim expressions. Dolphin bounded down the stairs with Baker and Renshaw on his heels just as Rio and Terrence appeared from the kitchen area.
“I found this,” Dolphin said, holding out a folded piece of stationery. “You better read it, Steele. You’re not going to like it.”
Steele snatched the paper from his teammate’s hand and quickly opened it, scanning the contents.
Mendoza knew about KGI from one of his men. They knew everything about me, including my connection to KGI. Mendoza told me we were leaving and that his current personnel were expendable. He was counting on you to get rid of them for him. All I know is that he’s going to Paris for plastic surgery and then he’s relocating to start over again. He’s promised not to hurt me if I cooperate with his plans. I’m scared out of my mind, but I don’t have a choice but to do as he’s ordered me to. He wants me to oversee his recovery after his surgery. If you find this, please know I would have done anything I could to prevent this from happening. I hope to see you again and I’m putting all of my faith in you not to give up and to find me again.
Maren
The paper shook in Steele’s hand. The others crowded around to read and Sam took it from Steele, his expression growing more furious as he read.
“Son of a bitch!” Steele swore.
He wanted to put his fist through a goddamn wall. This was bullshit. He knew he shouldn’t have waited for the other teams to be pulled in. Now, because he’d waited, Maren had slipped through their fingers and was enduring God knows what at Mendoza’s hands.
