Untamed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 4)

by Shirleen Davies

  “Roger that. Tracker and Gunner. On my count. Three, two, one.”

  No sooner had the words gone over their comm units than the two breachers used mechanical battering rams and small, lightweight sledgehammers to gain entry. The rams were louder than preferred, but were chosen over charges with a flash that could attract more attention.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Ghost and Rock said in unison, leading their teams into the building.

  NVGs already in place, the men moved with surgical precision, clearing each room in the half-basement before taking the stairs to the first floor. Repeating the process, they silently searched every cubbyhole, the word clear called repeatedly over the radio.

  Following Rock, Ethan right behind him, Wrangler shot a look at his brother. Other than a few drills Ethan had joined, Wrangler had never seen him in action. Wrath was tough, but Ethan could give him a run for the crown. Kicking in doors and clearing rooms came as easily to him as the active duty men on their mission.

  “Hold your positions,” Rock growled, stopping all progress. They’d come to a set of double doors, a tiny stream of light noticeable from underneath. “Wrangler and Tracker on the other side. Ethan, you’re with me. On three. One, two, three.”

  Bursting through the door, they spotted three men seated around a small table. Before Rock could order them to surrender, one of the men grabbed a gun, aimed, and fired.

  The team flattened themselves on the floor, returning fire to catch him in the chest and head. The others had shown more smarts, raising their arms and backing away from their weapons sitting in the middle of the table.

  “Drop to the floor, face down, hands behind your backs.” Rock called the order at the same time his men formed a semi-circle in front of the two men who shook so hard their teeth rattled.

  “Rock to Ghost. We’ve got one dead tango, two prisoners. Status?”

  “West end of first floor clear. Heading to second floor. Do you need Moses?” Ghost mentioned their medic and one of the Brethren’s best snipers.

  “Negative. Prisoners are unharmed. We’ll secure them and continue the search.” Rock held his gun on the two prisoners while Wrangler, Ethan, and Tracker secured their wrists and ankles with zip ties. Bending their legs up to their backsides, they used more zip ties to fasten their ankles and wrists together before slapping duct tape over their mouths.

  They’d just finished when a round of gunfire came from the direction of Ghost and his team. “Rock to Ghost. Report in.”

  “Two, maybe three tangos on floor two firing down the stairwell at us.”

  “Roger. We’ll use the staircase on east end. Try to come up behind them.” Rock looked at the others. “Move out.”

  Confirming no activity in the hall before exiting the room, they moved as fast as possible while checking for gunmen on their side of the building. Reaching the second floor, they split up on either side of the door, the same as they’d done downstairs. Ethan and Tracker trained their weapons down the stairs, backs to the others.

  Rock gave one crisp nod to Wrangler, who opened the door, the two of them entering the second floor, Ethan and Tracker right behind them.

  It was eerily silent for several seconds before gunfire erupted from the west end of the building. Rock and Wrangler rushed forward. Tracker and Ethan would check the rooms for other gunmen before following.

  Knowing they were close, Rock held up his hand. Peeking around the corner, he held up three fingers.

  Three gunmen were holding Ghost’s team on the first floor. They had no clue another team had come up behind them. Just how the Brethren liked it.

  The way they were dressed, in their tactical gear, no one would peg them as being part of a motorcycle gang. Another thing they liked.

  Using hand signals, Rock motioned Wrangler and Tracker to one side of the staircase. He and Ethan would take the other. Another burst of gunfire echoed up the stairwell. Their boys were hitting them back.

  Holding up a hand, Rock took a step forward, his M4 carbine pointed down the stairs. “We’ve got you trapped. Drop your weapons and raise your hands.”

  A blast of bullets hit the wall near Wrangler and Tracker, sending shards of broken drywall onto them and into the hall. Waiting until the shooting stopped, Rock and Wrangler crouched while Ethan and Tracker came up behind them. All four began firing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Diego Quintero sat in the dark sedan with tinted windows, a phone to his ear as he and his bodyguards watched the building down the deserted street. They saw no lights and no visible activity, yet Diego knew Jamie North was somewhere inside.

  “Yes, Father. Our men intercepted your old friends a few minutes after they exited a private jet in Nogales, with orders to take good care of them.” Diego had no doubt his father understood. Their men would eliminate a problem, leaving no evidence traceable to the family. “I assure you, we’ll retrieve the boy and return him to his parents.”

  “Unharmed, Diego. It is important we not make enemies of Eternal Brethren.”

  “Understood.”

  “How many men do you have?”

  “Six. More than enough to complete our business. Two will return the boy. The others will accompany me back to Monterrey.”

  The pop, pop, pop of gunfire caught his attention, making him frown. “I’ll call you back, Father.”

  A moment later, the sounds were repeated. “Our men have not been ordered inside, correct?”

  His lead bodyguard turned in his seat, his gaze still fixed on the building. “No, señor. They’re waiting for your order.”

  Diego sat forward, looking out the untinted front window. “Someone besides the boy is inside. Drive to the back.” They could not let anyone hurt the child. “Order the men to prepare to enter the building.”

  “Sí, Señor Quintero.” Picking up the radio, he gave the order, then drove around the building. The other bodyguard, gun ready, never took his gaze from the surrounding area. Any potential danger had to be stopped immediately. Unlike their usual cars, this one didn’t have bulletproof glass, leaving them vulnerable to attack.

  “Stop the car.” Diego leaned forward, pointing to a van at the back of the property. “What does the sign say?”

  “Commercial Maintenance, señor.”

  After hearing the shots, Diego was skeptical. “Check it out, Ernesto.”

  “Sí, Señor Quintero.” The youngest and newest of his men checked his weapon.

  Leaving the car, he moved with a fluid motion Diego had seen in few men. Mostly those who’d trained in United States Special Forces, as this man had. It was one reason he’d selected him to be part of his private staff. The other was his background.

  Ernesto’s parents were illegal immigrants from Mexico who’d been discovered and deported when he was five. He’d stayed in the U.S., living with an aunt and uncle until joining the Army at eighteen. A few years later, he’d renounced his U.S. citizenship and moved to Mexico with a friend—a very distant relative of the Quintero’s. Since then, he’d moved up the ranks quickly.

  Diego watched Ernesto move around the van, checking doors, peering inside, before glancing at the back of the building, his gaze landing on Quintero’s men who’d taken positions by each of the back doors. Doors which stood wide open.

  The Brethren continued to check all remaining rooms, Wrangler’s hope fading. They hadn’t found Jamie. Hadn’t found any indication he’d been in the building.

  The three men in the stairwell died in the shootout, and the men tied up downstairs knew nothing. With his ability to speak fluent Spanish and advanced interrogation skills, Tracker had grilled both men, learning they were hired muscle. They knew nothing of a boy. Their job had been to guard the building, nothing more.

  Wrangler had been certain his son would be somewhere inside. Standing in the hall of the top floor, he got a niggling feeling, which always came when his gut sent him signals. Taking another slow turn, his instincts drew him down the hall to a door unlike the others, on
e without a number or knob. Instead, there were two deadbolts requiring a key.

  Wrangler touched his earpiece, speaking into the comm unit. “Tracker, meet me on the top floor, middle of the hall.”

  “Roger. On my way.”

  Less than a minute later, he appeared at the top of the stairs, jogging to stand next to Wrangler, following his gaze. Understanding the issue, he reached into a pocket, pulling out a special kit he’d prepared himself. “How the hell did we miss this?”

  All the men had been trained in picking locks. They were all good. Tracker was an expert. Less than a minute later, he shoved open the door. Wrangler entered, the butt of the M4 secure against his shoulder, Tracker right behind him.

  In the center of the room was a bed with one blanket. A large window had been busted, fragments of glass on the floor. Looking down, they saw a crumbled bag, an empty plastic orange juice bottle and cookie wrapper next to it.

  Wrangler’s heartbeat shot up. He looked at Tracker, nodding toward a door to what he believed to be a bathroom. They moved around the bed to the door, finding it locked. It took Tracker less than fifteen seconds to access the room. Stepping inside, Wrangler looked around, lowering his rifle.

  Then he heard a slight scuffling sound inside a cupboard behind the door. Lifting the M4, he pointed it toward the cabinet.

  “Jamie?” Getting no answer, he tried again. “Jamie, are you in here?” He shouldered the rifle.

  The scuffling grew louder before the door burst open. “Dad!” Jamie crawled out. Scrambling to his feet, he launched himself into Wrangler’s arms. “I knew you’d come for me. I knew it.” His voice broke on the last, a sob escaping.

  Handing the M4 to Tracker, he lowered Jamie to the floor and held him at arm’s length, searching for injuries. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  Shaking his head, he swiped tears from his face. “No, except for the rope burns.”

  Wrangler grabbed both hands, seeing ugly red welts on his wrists, but no blood. Lifting the hem of his jeans, he saw the same on Jamie’s ankles.

  Putting on a brave face, Jamie tried to smile. “They don’t hurt so much anymore.”

  Throat tightening, Wrangler’s heart squeezed at his son’s strength. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  His eyes widened as he looked around them to the door. “Two men brought me here.”

  “We already found them, son. Come on. We need to find the other men and get you to your mom.” Taking the rifle from Tracker, he shouldered it again, taking Jamie’s hand.

  Tracker spoke into the radio. “Package found. Repeat. Package found. Moving to bottom floor now.”

  Wrangler guided Jamie between him and Tracker, who took the lead. Checking the hall and stairway, they headed down. When they reached the bottom floor, the door opened, both teams providing a shield.

  No one spoke or made a sound as they surrounded Jamie, moving toward one of the open back doors. Several feet away, Ghost stopped, holding up an arm, hand fisted. The men froze. Ghost moved his hand to his ear.

  Giving another signal, the men backed up to the other end of the hall. Ghost spoke into his comm unit. “Voices outside.”

  “Ambush?” Fargo asked.

  “Could be. Or it might be police or deputies.”

  Wrath’s voice crackled through their earpieces. To this point, he’d remained silent, monitoring their progress. “Assume tangos.”

  “Affirmative, Prez.” Ghost looked at Rock. “Take your team, and Jamie, to the side door, west end. My team will move to the door on the east end.”

  Giving a nod, Rock’s team headed down a connecting hall, waiting at the door for Ghost’s order. A moment later, his voice came through the comms.

  “On three, gentlemen. One, two, three.”

  Quietly, both teams exited the building, crouching as they made their way to the back. Dropping to their bellies, they crawled to the corner. Rock peered around it.

  “Two tangos at each door, Ghost. Repeat. Total of four tangos, two at each door.”

  “There’s a black sedan with driver about forty feet from our van,” Ghost said. “Too dark to see if there’s a passenger in the back.”

  “Tango coming around our van. Not ours,” Rock said.

  “I’m sending Gunner and Moses to come up behind the car. Can you neutralize the man by the van?”

  “Affirmative. Ethan and Tracker will get in position. Wrangler and I can take care of the two by the door.”

  “Affirmative, Rock. Fuse and I’ll do the same with our two.”

  Motioning to Gunner and Moses, they ran through the dark, making a big arc to come up several feet behind the car. Staying in the shadows, they dropped to one knee.

  The man next to the van looked around, not noticing Gunner and Moses, before walking to the car and getting inside.

  “Hold your positions.”

  “Roger, Ghost.”

  “Change in plan. After we’ve neutralized the men at the back doors, Fuse will move to the car with Gunner and Moses.”

  “I’m sending Tracker to support you, Ghost.” Rock gave the signal to Tracker to join Ghost.

  Running, he reached the side door, ducking outside to meet up with Ghost. Giving a chin lift, he confirmed Tracker’s arrival.

  “On my go, we all move at once, neutralizing the threats at each door and car.”

  “Give us a minute. Wrangler is moving Jamie inside.”

  Taking his son’s hand, they hurried to the side door, stepping inside. Bending down, he settled a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

  “You stay here. Do not come out until me or one of my team comes to get you.”

  Fear flashed across Jamie’s face. “I want to stay with you, Dad.”

  “Not this time, son. The men outside are dangerous. When it’s safe, I’ll come for you.”

  Gripping his hands together, Jamie nodded. “Okay.”

  Once again, Wrangler saw how hard his son worked to keep from showing his fear.

  “It’s going to be fine, son. You just need to trust me.”

  Biting his lower lip, Jamie nodded. “I do.”

  Shoving aside his own fear, Wrangler straightened and disappeared outside to join Rock and Ethan.

  “We’re in position, Ghost.”

  “On my go, everyone moves. Stand by.” There was a slight pause. “Go, go, go!”

  It happened fast, yet as if in slow motion. Rock, Wrangler, and Ethan moved behind the two men at one door, knocking them out. Simultaneously, Ghost and Tracker came up behind the tangos on their end, doing the same.

  Gunner, Moses, and Fuse had already secured the car, ordering the three men inside to get out. When the one in the back seat reached down, Fuse touched the man’s temple with the muzzle of his rifle.

  “Not a good idea. Get out and place your hands on the top of the car, legs spread.”

  Seconds later, Diego and his men faced the car, seething at the way Fuse, Gunner, and Moses patted them down. Tossing guns and knives to the ground, Moses whistled.

  “Expecting a war, gentlemen?”

  Ghost, Rock, and the others joined them after securing the four men with zip ties. Tracker pulled extra ties from a pocket, handing them out to restrain the men at the car.

  Moving behind Diego, Tracker pulled the man’s hands behind his back, utilizing the zip ties before turning him around. Dropping to a knee, he did the same with his ankles, then stood. By then, the two bodyguards had also been restrained.

  “Your name?” Tracker asked, looking at the man for the first time. A flash of recognition rocked through him. Diego Quintero stood inches from him.

  “Gunner. Watch this man.” Whipping around, hoping Diego hadn’t recognized his voice, he motioned for Ghost and Rock to join him several feet away. Turning his back to the car, he lowered his voice. “We may have a problem. The man from the back seat is Diego Quintero, oldest son of Armando Quintero.”

  “Shit,” Ghost bit out.

  “We can’t take him
with us,” Tracker said.

  “Agreed.” Rock glanced behind him. “We have no choice but to leave him and his men here. This mission was never about anything but rescuing Jamie. Did Quintero recognize you?”

  Tracker shook his head. “Doubtful. Not with the gear covering my face.”

  “All right.” Ghost turned to face the car. “We leave them the way they are until rendezvousing with our second van. Colt can contact local authorities an hour after we leave. By then, we’ll have changed the signs on the vans and be miles away.”

  Rock spoke into the comm unit. “Return to the van. We pull out in two minutes.”

  Wrangler had already returned for Jamie, who now stood at his side by the van. The rest of the men didn’t speak as they scrambled inside. Tracker moved slower, taking a few steps closer to Diego before stopping.

  “We mean you and your men no harm. The authorities will be contacted to remove your bindings.” Taking a few steps away, he stopped at Diego’s voice.

  “We will meet again, Nate Kincaid.”

  Not turning to look at him, he continued forward, a chill flashing through him.

  Six hours later, the men in one van exited in front of Wrangler’s house, a sleeping Jamie in his arms. Striding to the front door, he paused when it flew open. Becca ran toward them, wrapping her arms around Jamie, waking him. A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips when he saw her.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Setting his son down, Wrangler watched as they wrapped their arms around each other, his heart squeezing. After a moment, they both looked at him, opening their arms to him. He didn’t hesitate to step into them.

  Epilogue

  Freedom Meadow Ranch

  Three weeks later…

  Wrangler stood next to Becca, his arm around her waist as they watched Jamie play with some of the visiting children at his parents’ ranch. It was Saturday morning, which meant two buses filled with kids from the Phoenix area had arrived an hour earlier.

  Stuart, Belinda, and their volunteers had already divided them into groups, Jamie going with the ones close to his age. Today, they’d learn to groom and tack up horses for a short trail ride.