Ky had no more than targeted the yacht again when windage and elevation flashed in a muted green digital readout on his HUD. The rifle system automatically self-corrected, advised how many microseconds to make the shot, and he was sold. There was no reticle, just a red laser dot in his sights where the round would ultimately go. Ky lowered the weapon. Alex had to invest in these bad boys.
“Which way?” he asked, ready to rock and roll.
Sam nodded straight ahead. “LS will lead until we’re at the wall. Then he’ll hold position for retreat.”
“But I will go inside with you, will I not?” LS did not understand the concept of hold the position. It meant he got to carry a gun, but most likely he wouldn’t get the chance to kill anyone. He’d stay at the rear. Outside the frag zone. Safe.
Ky rolled the cramp out of his neck. This was not the time to train an FNG, as in friggin’ new guy. Still, it wasn’t his call. He kept his mouth shut.
“You’ll hold where I tell you, son,” Sam replied firmly, sounding exactly like the dad he hadn’t admitted he was, “or you won’t go in at all. Understood?”
LS got it. He nodded, his lips clenched thin, but obedient. “Copy that,” he offered, saving face with the operator lingo he’d heard.
“Tucker, bring up the rear,” Sam ordered. “You guys ready?”
Grunts and affirmatives responded, and the infiltration was a go with a possible extraction within the hour. LS led with Sam following. Ky and Tate branched to the left and right. Tucker brought up the rear. Crouched low in the tall grass, they were camouflaged ghosts on the breeze, moving like snakes toward their target. No one spoke, not even the new guy.
Ky studied the pristine white concrete wall ahead. At five feet high, it ran east to west, ending at the gray-blue Atlantic. Rhythmic breakers crashed against the sandy shore. Gulls and other seabirds floated overhead. Some kind of a hawk hovered over the wall, its wings outstretched and its beak downward, no doubt stalking some unwitting prey. The predator matched the hope of Ky’s soul. LS had better be right about his recon. Ky needed Levine to be inside this estate and unwitting.
They traversed an open stretch of the tall grass and sand before they hit the wall. By then they’d rotated positions. Ky was out in front, Tucker and Tate at his rear with Sam and LS bringing up the tail. All appeared calm.
Sam nodded for Ky to proceed. Ky produced a small plastic case from one of his pants pockets. With a flick of his wrist, the cap snapped open to reveal a tiny pen-shaped device. TEAMdragon, a drone so tiny it resembled a dragonfly in flight.
Most folks wouldn’t have given the insect a second look when it spread its gossamer wings, imbued with a forty-one-thousand-tensile strength, the same as ultra-pure fiber optic strands. They wouldn’t think twice if it zipped over their perfect white wall and into their fortress.
Ky lifted it out of its case and activated the tiny spy from an app on his cell phone. It took less than a second to orient the device, and bingo. They had eyes inside Levine’s encampment.
“What the shit’s that?” Tucker muttered, now intently peering over Ky’s shoulder.
“TEAMdragon,” Tate replied. “Quiet. It’s got ears. We may be able to pick up chatter.”
“No shit?” Tucker whispered, sounding like Ky had earlier. “You got extras?”
Ky stopped listening, his whole being now over the wall with that tiny watcher. For as small a camera as it had, it provided a crystal clear picture. Two guards stood at attention at the patio glass doors on the south, facing Ky and his team’s position over the wall. By the time the tiny dragonfly had circled the lavish estate, Ky knew the position of twelve more guards, three gardeners, and the pool guy. The double door to a garden shed in the back was open, a riding mower parked inside. The upper level deck revealed an open patio door.
TEAMdragon hovered at the deck rail. Do I dare?
Hell yes, he dared, and inside Levine’s secure home drifted the baby spy by a foot. Then two. It hovered while Ky maintained perfect pitch and yaw, not willing to risk losing contact with the drone or to endanger Eden.
The drone entered a lavishly decorated bedroom. Gold brocade curtains. Billowing white sheers that he had to be careful not to ensnare his pet in. Black painted dressers and a matching trunk at the foot of the queen-sized bed. A sea-foam green comforter with too many pillows. The door to an en suite bathroom stood open to the right. The closed bedroom door to the left. No sound invited him in, and he had no way to tell if anyone slept there. It looked too clean to be anything but a guest room. His hopes at catching a glimpse of Eden faded.
“Well?” Tate asked, genuine hope in his voice.
Ky rested his baby drone on the deck railing. He shook his head. “No sign of Eden yet. You guys are welcome to watch the display. Mama Chappy said there were maybe twenty guards. I can see twelve at various stations around the yard. All armed. Helmets. Omni 9000s. There’s no way we’re getting inside. We’re outmanned. Four to one if Chappy’s guess is right. Maybe more.”
“So?” Tate took a step forward, the eternal optimist. “I’m not going in to ask ’em to dance. They’ll never see us. Come on, Ky. We’ve had worse chances than this.”
Tate was right. They’d infiltrated sight unseen quite a few times over their joint TEAM careers, but this time felt different. It was Eden’s life on the line.
Ky cast his heart to the surf where seagulls played catch with the wind. She’d love it there. She deserved the luxury this edge of the ocean hideaway evoked. Just not with Levine.
“Ky? Is that you?” a timid voice asked.
Holy hell. Eden? Ky pressed one finger in his ear to shut out the sounds of sea and surf that TEAMdragon also transmitted. There was no way to reply if that voice belonged to Eden. The drone didn’t come with a mouth, just radar ears.
Ky took the chance. He maneuvered his pet back through the open deck door, his heart in his throat, praying to God he’d find her this time. And there she was. Pale as a ghost. Made paler by that cream-colored safari get-up she wore and her short black hair. She was so damned thin. It broke his heart to see the dark smudges under her eyes.
“Ky?” she asked again, her voice too small, more breath than substance. She reached for the drone, and Ky let it happen. He hovered that baby dragon until it rested on her trembling outstretched index finger. Shit. Her nails were long and painted as black as her hair. What the hell was going on in that house?
“You’re here?” she begged to know, her bottom lip bitten and her green eyes glistening. “Ky? Are you really here? Is this you?”
And God, he wished he were close enough to grab her in his arms and steal her away from Levine. “Yes,” he whispered as if she could hear. “Are you okay, baby?”
The air stilled. Eden didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped her hand and spun toward the door behind her, unsettling the drone. “Yes?” she called out, her hand behind her back and waving as if brushing the dragonfly away.
He retreated his wobbly pet at the open window beyond the edge of the sheers.
“I’m here,” she called again. “I’m—”
“Why aren’t you packed and ready by now?” The asshole himself slapped the door open and stalked in to where he had no damned business being. Cameron Levine in the flesh. Around one hundred and seventy pounds. Six-foot-nothing. Dark, trimmed hair. Clean-shaven. Pressed white shirt open at the neck, the cuffs rolled to his elbows. Tan slacks. Dress shoes. Smug smirk on his lying lips as he scanned the open deck door behind Eden. “I asked you a question. You know we have to leave. What have you been doing up here? Wasting my time?”
“N-n-no. I wanted to take one last look at the ocean,” she answered quietly. “It’s my last chance, and I... may never see it again.”
“You might. It could happen.” He tossed the wide-brimmed hat he’d brought with him to the bed and stepped too far into her personal space, crowding her.
Eden held her ground, and Ky held his breath. You lay one finger on her, and so help me
, you’ll die.
But lay a finger on her Levine did. He grabbed her roughly by her jaw and peered down into her face, his lips twisted as if he might—kiss her. And Ky wished TEAMdragon was the kind of insect that breathed hellfire and almighty brimstone.
Eden’s spine stiffened. She lifted her chin, but not in flirtation—more like she meant to bite him if he drew any closer. “But it won’t happen, will it?” she asked, an edge to her voice. “You’ll never let me leave alive, will you?”
“Don’t toy with me, Stark,” Levine cajoled, his tone surprisingly tender given his hold on her. He ran the backs of his fingers down one side of her face. “How many times do we have to go over the rules? They’re straightforward to me. You comply? No one dies. You strike out on your own? You pitch a fit like that last one? You even think of running out on me, and I’ll make sure they all die.”
Ky stopped breathing as his team stilled around him and waited. You make sure who dies? Me? Director Strong? Exactly who?
She took a step back from Levine, leaving his hand suspended. “At least don’t make me drink that energy shake every morning. It makes me dizzy.”
She whined! His brave little Eden whined! Ky couldn’t believe the temerity in her sweet voice, the one that reminded him of the deep throaty notes from his mother’s wind chimes. The one who’d trekked through frozen friggin’ Canada to escape the monster she had every right to believe meant to murder her. The sweet woman who didn’t want to kill the mindless male drones who would’ve killed her. That Eden.
Levine scrubbed his hand over his head, his eyes shut as if it took willpower to endure Eden.
“You could’ve let Dr. Zaroyin and his son live,” she declared, and Ky could almost detect her defiance. “You didn’t have to kill those drones, either. And why murder the president of Liberia? Do you have to kill everyone?”
Oh shit. Ky stilled. Eden was passing some heavy intel on Levine’s plans right under his nose.
“Eden, Eden, Eden,” the deviant coaxed, his voice reaching beyond the open deck door like the first chill of a bitter winter wind. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I don’t have to kill everyone, but I will kill Drake Franklin if you don’t do what you’re told. Isn’t modern technology wonderful? All I have to do is make one call, and my faithful servant in Virginia puts a bullet in your father’s head. Two bullets, if I ask nicely, and three just because you piss me off by continually defying me!” His voice ramped up with every word. “Remember, my guy has no fear of repercussion or death, so think before you open that pretty little mouth of yours again. He’ll do it in broad daylight and video the gore for you to watch if you’re not careful.”
“You didn’t have to kill Isaiah,” she declared bravely.
“Then why’d you make me? Why can’t you do what I ask without everything resulting in a power struggle? Why do you test me every goddamned day?” His tone tightened until...
SMACK! He backhanded Eden. She fell onto the trunk at the footboard, her hand to her mouth, her knees on the floor.
Ky’s hackles lifted off his spine. His nostrils flared wide. Cameron Levine was a dead man, he just didn’t know it yet.
“I’ll kill that son-of-a-bitch,” Tucker snarled, and honestly, Ky had forgotten he still watched over his shoulder.
“No, Chase. I will,” Tate growled, the quiet man finally heard from.
Sam racked his pistol, the barrel already skyward and his voice pure acid. “Not if I get to him first.”
“No,” Ky ground out, needing to do the killing, but to do it once and do it right. Eden couldn’t defend herself against this monster. Ky watched her throw one arm across the fancy trunk and use it to pull herself upright until she stood, swaying, but on her feet. As carefully as possible, he withdrew TEAMdragon from the deck and brought it back over the wall to rest at his feet. Ky didn’t need to see any more. He knew exactly what had to happen next.
“The bastard’s lying to her,” Ky growled as he secured the drone. “He’s threatening to kill her father. That’s how he’s getting her to do what he wants. She thinks Zaroyin and his kid are dead, too. Tate, call Alex. I need Eden’s father in protective custody. The Zaroyins, too.”
“If Zaroyin’s dead, that’s news to me,” Sam grumbled.
“Me, too,” Tucker piped up. “I’ve got an FBI app for news like that.”
Ky kept going. “Tucker, get Strong on the line. Tell him to contact the Liberian government. Their president’s in danger. Now!”
For once, Tucker had no snippy comeback. He simply nodded compliance and obeyed.
“And me, sir?” LS spoke up like the willing FNG he was. “How may I help your pretty lady?”
Oh, God, where to begin? “I think you’ve done enough,” Ky murmured. “You brought me to her. If not for you—”
“Bullshit. You’re going in with me, son,” Sam growled. He doffed his gear, including that pistol he’d just armed. “For now, we are just two lost tourists, understand? We’re a father and son out to see the sights, but our vehicle broke down a couple miles back. We need a drink of water and to use a phone. Maybe a bathroom. Nothing more, nothing less. We go in and we stall Levine to keep him from leaving while everyone else gets Stark out of there.”
LS handed his weapon to Tucker, his eyes wide and his heart in the right place, but damn. This could go wrong in so many ways.
“Are you certain of this?” Ky asked. “I mean, your son...”
“Yes. He’s my son,” Sam declared gruffly, a bite of pride in his tone, “and I’ve never felt better about a decision in my life. Once Sammy and I get inside, get Eden out of there. Don’t take no for an answer. Tucker, you stay behind. You’re comm support. Now go. Let’s get this bastard.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
With her chest heaving, Eden wiped the blood off her lower lip and swallowed her rebuttal. There was no sense in it. This wasn’t the first time Levine had hit her. And if help was just a wish and a dream, if that dragonfly drone was just another of Levine’s sick jokes to torment her, that slap wouldn’t be the last.
“You’re right,” she pacified meekly. “I’ll be good from now on. I’ll pack.”
“Excellent,” he purred, that hard fist of his now lifted to the corner of his mouth as if he’d slapped himself. “It hurts me when I have to discipline you, Agent Stark. It’s not how I see our relationship developing. I hope you know that.”
She nodded quickly, needing him to stay focused on her in case... in case Ky really was out there. It seemed the wildest notion, but when a person was drowning, they’d grab anything to stay afloat, even something as small as a dragonfly. And she’d been drowning for weeks. She’d become—Black Eyes.
“Put the hat on before you come down and keep it on from now on. I hate freckles.” He turned to the door, his back to her.
But you don’t mind bruises and handprints. “Yes, sir.” She added quickly to make sure he knew she meant to obey.
“I want you looking your best today. You’ll be meeting someone important. I hope you’ll behave yourself.”
Her stomach pitched. “Aren’t you going to tell me who?” she asked timidly.
He paused at the door, but didn’t offer anything but a twisted smile and a kiss blown from his fingertips before he shut her in. Ah! She jerked in revulsion at the hint of anything from his lips touching her, even an imaginary kiss.
“Ky,” she murmured, needing one more glimpse of that mechanical bug. It had to be from him. Tossing the billowing sheers aside, she ran out onto the deck, desperately searching. Peering over the railing, nothing but the wide concrete patio and shimmering blue swimming pool below glared back at her. The shy pool guy offered a friendly wave. A seagull squawked from the shore. It might as well have been Edgar Allen Poe’s raven.
All she saw was—nothing more.
Wordlessly, Ky signaled for Tate to head out with him. The thick row of flowering shrubs that TEAMdragon identified during its flight shielded their quick entry over the w
all and down the other side. Once inside Levine’s manicured yard, Ky dropped to his belly behind the shrubs and sighted the guard to the right of the side door in his Omni 9000 scope, if one could call the lavishly carved wooden masterpiece a side-anything. The door dominated this aspect of the mansion, but Ky had already seen the magnificent spectacle that faced the ocean and its opposing twin to the east. Levine must have a thing for grand entries.
“I don’t want to kill these guys,” he murmured at the last second.
Tate’s head jerked to Ky. “Not that crap again. Goddamnit, why not?”
“Because Eden wouldn’t want me to. She’s right,” Ky replied, his throat as dry as the sand on the beach. “These are not the bad guys here. Only Levine. We need to put the drones out of their misery, but not by killing them. They might thank us for it later.”
“And just how do you expect to do that?” Tate hissed, his stoicism in shreds.
“Remember that wolf in Canada? We had bear spray, but we also had a couple dozen Diazepam-filled darts. You wouldn’t still have them with you, would you? How about we give these guys a dose of peace and quiet instead of the crap they’ve got in their heads?”
“Shit,” he growled, fumbling in the leather gear bag at his hip. “Now that you put it that way...”
“Serious?” Ky dared to hope. “You’ve brought those tranqs with you? Here? Now?”
Of course Tate had them with him. He was a Boy Scout to his bones. Always prepared. “A bullet would be faster,” he grumbled.
Ky didn’t argue. He’d learned long ago not to push Tate once he’d been convinced to do something he didn’t want to do. This definitely qualified as one of those times.
“Here, damn it.” Tate handed a box of darts over. “This better work.”
“It will,” Ky murmured as he swapped his fantastic Omni 9000 for the only thing in his gear bag that could handle a tranq dart—his specially modified pistol. He knew a little about being prepared, too. “You ready?” he asked his surly brother-at-arms as he loaded it up.
Ky (In the Company of Snipers Book 13) Page 35
