Ricochet's Rogue (Agent of Mercy, Book Three)

by Miller, Robin Leigh

  “Halfway there,” he grunted.

  Ricochet and Gunner scoured the wall looking for holes, loose boards anything that would help them gain access inside. The only thing they found were loose boards where they could poke the barrels of their weapons through. It would have to do.

  “Ricochet, I think I found a way in,” Gunner told him.

  He ran to his side. “What’d ya have?”

  The kid pointed to the ground where an animal had dug a hole and then stuck his arm in and up to his shoulder.

  “It goes under and up. I think it’s big enough to shimmy through.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. He was busy looking for a way to get through the wall like a ghost. This rookie was proving not to be a rookie anymore. He slapped him on the back and smiled.

  “Good job,” he sat down to stick his feet through when Gunner stopped him.

  “With all due respect, sir, she may be your woman but she’s my teammate. I go first.”

  “Look, Gunner. This isn’t about who she belongs to. This is real-life. You go in there and your bright white shiny skin will glow like a beacon. I’ll blend in better. You pick a spot where you can draw a bead on a target and take it if the opportunity arises.”

  It took several seconds for the battle to wage in Gunner’s mind. Conceding, he nodded his head. “Okay, but you get your ass killed, or her, and you’ll deal with me.”

  “Understood,” Ricochet acknowledged.

  “Ricochet, found a way in.” Dragon said over the radio. “Just no place to hide inside. I have a clear shot from where I am.”

  “Affirmative. Stay put. Boomer, I’m goin’ in. No more verbal from me.”

  “Copy that,” Boomer whispered.

  Gunner peered through the slats of the building then gave a go ahead nod.

  Ricochet lay on his stomach and snaked his way in. It was a tight fit but nothing he couldn’t handle. When his head popped through the other side he stilled, scrutinizing his surroundings.

  It was dark enough, darker in the corner where some pallets had been stacked. If he could make it there he could hunker down and coordinate things. Slow, calculated movements dragged him from the hole. When he was free, he crouched low, creeping toward his hiding spot. Once there, he settled behind the stack of wood.

  “Wake up, bitch,” the man said.

  She lay still.

  “I said wake up.” He kicked her in the back, hard.

  Ricochet braced himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her take a blow, but that didn’t make it any easier. Still she didn’t move. Had she lost consciousness?

  “I don’t have time for this,” Grear snarled and then reached down, grabbed a handful of her hair, wrapped it around his fist and jerked her head off the ground.

  A cross between a painful shriek and a breathy desperate gasp for air filled the room. He could see her bloodied, bruised face and the dazed look in her eyes. His hands fisted, itching to do damage to the man hurting her.

  “Rico, problem,” Boomer reported. “I’m stuck.”

  What? Stuck, he couldn’t be.

  “Can you get free?” Gunner asked in place of Ricochet.

  “Take a few.”

  “Make it quick. She don’t have a few,” Gunner replied.

  Ricochet silently agreed. Without Boomer’s backup the three of them couldn’t do much. Three men all armed. It would be a stand off. He could try to take a shot from where he was but as soon as he did Veronica was dead. The remaining men would fill her full of bullets before he had a chance to take aim again. They’d have to wait for Boomer.

  “Are you with us now?” Grear spat in her face. He dropped her back to the ground with a hard thud.

  Veronica groaned in pain. What had they done to her? How badly was she hurt or was she playing a role? She couldn’t be, he surmised. Not the way she sounded when he grabbed her.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” Grear said straightening his jacket. “You’re a danger to me and do you know what happens to those who threaten me? I’ll tell you. They die. They simply vanish from the face of the earth.” He watched her lay there on the ground. “Put her in a chair. I demand attention when I speak.”

  The larger of the two men dragged his chair to the center of the room, grabbed her by the belt loop and hair and heaved her into the chair. Rico noticed her breathing was severely labored, more panting than actual breathing.

  “Can you hear me, babe?” he whispered. With all the grabbing of her hair he wasn’t sure her radio was still in place. Obviously they hadn’t found it yet. “Moan if you can.”

  A long-drawn-out moan escaped her mouth before she began panting again. Okay, they still had contact. They may need it.

  “Hang tough,” he told her.

  “Now,” Grear said grabbing her chin and forcing her head back to look at him. “You have been a severe waste of my time and effort.”

  “You…killed…my…mother,” she panted.

  “Ah yes, the woman from the grocery. I did her myself.” He said with a smile. “She was the beginning. I wonder, will you scream and plead the same as she did? Is there anyone you’ll beg to live for?”

  “Bastard,” she whispered with hatred, lolling her head to the side.

  She was lethargic, trying to stay awake and suffering. Ricochet’s mind raced. There had to be a way to get her out without getting someone killed.

  Grear struck her across the face with the back of his hand. “No one calls me names. At least your mother tried to right her situation.” A sick smile spread across his face. “She had the decency to call me master as she begged for her pathetic life. Will you do the same? Will you get on your knees and grovel, begging for the master to spare you as she did?”

  Veronica moaned and twisted her head as he spoke. “Liar.” She spat and lifted her head up.

  Fury filled her once dazed eyes, now they were focused and clear. The more the man spoke his lies the angrier she got, bringing her out of her stupor.

  “More names,” Grear sneered and reached for her face again.

  His fingers got too close to her mouth. She bit down hard, drawing blood. Grear screamed at the top of his lungs, wrenching and pulling, trying to free himself.

  “Boomer, you’d better be ready,” Gunner warned. This was getting dangerously out of hand.

  One of Grear’s henchmen ran over and grabbed her jaw, prying it open. Blood dripped from Grear’s fingers. When they finally got him free she had severed a large chunk of flesh from his finger. She took several blows for her actions, some to the stomach, some to the face.

  “That’s it. I gotta do somethin’. They’re gonna kill her.” Panic edged Gunner’s voice.

  “Hold on buddy. I’m almost there,” Boomer told him.

  Ricochet held on. She was literally dying before his eyes. Gunner was right, if they didn’t do something now he would lose her.

  “Oh man, we got trouble,” Boomer said with some urgency. “Another vehicle just pulled up. Three, four, five men coming in. Rethink your plan, Ricochet.”

  He cursed silently. Eight to four, the odds weren’t good. What did these other men want? What about their cars on the road? Surely they saw them. His adrenaline amped up. Damn, he should have stayed outside where he could communicate with his team better.

  “Listen up. These new guys are gonna spill about the cars on the road. That means they’ll be looking for someone. Gunner, you meet me out front. We’ll take care of them,” Dragon ordered.

  “You two stay in the bushes. They’ll come back out looking for ya,” Boomer ordered. “Take ’em then.”

  “Copy that,” they answered in unison.

  “Rico, I got two flash grenades with me and ready to be used. We’ll ride this out for now, but if things get out of hand I’ll drop ’em.”

  Thank God. Those grenades would buy them the seconds they’d need. Veronica’s head lolled from side-to-side. All he’d have to do is run in gun blazing and take them down before
they knew what hit them. The only problem with that plan was Veronica could take a stray bullet and that wasn’t acceptable. Sitting and watching her take a beating wasn’t acceptable either.

  “Here they come. Everyone stay on your toes,” Boomer informed the team.

  “It’s about damn time you arrived,” Grear snapped.

  “What happened to your hand?” one asked.

  “The bitch bit me. I’ll enjoy this even more now.”

  “Hey, we passed two cars parked on the road. Who do they belong to?” another asked.

  Ricochet peeked through the pile. Grear and his goons shared a confused look.

  “Two cars, ya say?” the larger man asked. “No cars there when I came down the road.”

  “Check it out,” Grear ordered. “Me and the wench have unfinished business.”

  Four of the men walked outside. Ricochet prayed Boomer was hidden well enough and that Gunner and Dragon weren’t going for any heroics.

  “You want me to take any that come near?” Dragon asked.

  “As long as they’re alone. Don’t take on any more,” Boomer instructed.

  “Copy that.”

  One of the men left inside wandered to Ricochet’s dark end of the building. His gun was pulled. Holding his breath Ricochet watched as the man walked near his hiding spot. The man looked around and then walked back into the light.

  “Nothing,” he told Grear. “Could be some kids out looking for a place to party.”

  “They better hope to God they don’t want to party in here. I’ll show them a party,” Grear growled as he wrapped his finger in a handkerchief. “I’ll have a hell of a time explaining this to the stooges in the Senate. Nosey old bastards.”

  “I’ll call the doctor. Have him ready to take a look.”

  “You do that.”

  “When they all come back get ready. I’ll drop a grenade, you free her and get the hell out,” Boomer told Ricochet. “I’ve got some of Sam’s darts too.”

  Sam’s wonderful magical darts would put an elephant to sleep. That evened the odds nicely. Suddenly he heard grunts over the radio.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he whispered.

  “Got one. He’ll be out for a while,” Dragon reported.

  “Secure him,” Boomer ordered.

  “Roger that.”

  Three of the men walked back into the building. “Nothing,” one said. “Hey where’s Chandler?”

  “Probably taking a piss. Let’s get this over with. The plane’s waiting,” another said.

  Grear straightened his tie with his good hand and stepped in front of the group of men. “Gentlemen, this,” he said pointing at Veronica, “is the woman who should have died at our compound. Isn’t it nice of her to grace us with her company again? She is the daughter of my very first kill in our war.”

  “Guy really thinks he’s fightin’ a war,” Boomer said.

  “Tonight she’ll be my last, but not the last in our war. I’ve asked you here to bear witness to her death and to carry back to Washington the knowledge that I am sincere in this mission of purity.”

  A low guttural growl, much like a wolf before he attacked, sounded in Ricochet’s mike. He focused his eyes on Veronica. Her body was tense, her eyes wide and wild peeking through her now stringy hair hanging in her face. She was conscious, aware and ready to strike.

  “Rogue, we’re still with ya. Don’t jump the gun,” he whispered to her hoping she could hear him.

  The jerky movement of her eyes, darting back and forth as if she were looking for him calmed his nerves. She could hear him, but was she really hearing him? Did she understand?

  “Look straight ahead toward the end of the building.”

  Her watery, fiery eyes moved in slow motion.

  “That’s it. I’m here, in the shadows.”

  “Need help, buddy?”

  The familiar voice of Kong eased into his ear. The odds just got better.

  “Where are ya?” Boomer asked.

  “Front.”

  “Gunner, Dragon, position yourselves outside the building.”

  “How about we draw one or two outside?” Kong suggested. “Wouldn’t hurt to have fewer to deal with inside.”

  Two more incapacitated wouldn’t hurt, Ricochet agreed silently. “Affirmative.”

  “Gunner, relocate behind the trees directly in front of the door. Dragon, you wait for my signal.” Kong ordered. “Don’t know which one of you is which but we’ll straighten that out later.”

  “Roger that,” they spoke, already moving.

  “When this night is over the path to the highest office in this great country will be clear for me.” Grear said in his pompous way. “No more worrying if someone will crawl from the dregs to tarnish my reputation.”

  “Okay, Gunner. Draw ’em out.”

  Ricochet heard it loud and clear. So did the rest of the room. All heads turned toward the door. Nervous hands reached for guns.

  “Sounds like some kids,” one of the goons reported.

  “I don’t give a damn, get rid of them,” Grear barked, obviously irritated his grand speech was interrupted.

  “Stay calm, Rogue. Let them do their jobs. It’ll make it easier for us,” Boomer assured her.

  Her tightly coiled body remained still.

  “That’s it.”

  Two men closest to the door drew their weapons and headed into the night. Loud laughter followed by Gunner pretending to holler at someone echoed in the dark.

  “On their way,” Boomer informed them.

  “You see anything?” another bodyguard yelled from inside.

  “Let ’em answer.” Kong instructed.

  “Can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Find those damn kids and take them out. I have more pressing business to take care of,” Grear growled.

  He was agitated. That was good.

  The sound of grunts, yelps and thuds came across the radio.

  “Report.”

  “Two down,” Gunner informed him.

  Five left. Odds were getting better.

  “Keep your position, Rogue. Boomer, you got those flash grenades ready? They’ll miss ’em soon.” Kong’s confident voice helped steel Ricochet’s nerves.

  “Affirmative.”

  Ricochet took a long, steady breath. Time to rock. He moved to reposition himself for launching out into the room. As he moved his legs, his head rose, bumped into a something hard. He felt it slide and fumbled to catch it. Too late. The small board thumped on the dirt floor.

  All heads turned toward the end of the room.

  “Now what?” Grear jumped behind one of his bodyguards. “Don’t just stand there. Go check it out.”

  Two men crept toward Rico. He couldn’t call for backup, not now. They were too close and would hear him. There was no place to slink away to. All he could do is sit and hope like hell they didn’t see him.

  “Where the hell are the other two?” Grear shrieked. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

  As the two well-dressed goons approached, Ricochet tightened his grip on his gun, bunched his thick muscles and waited for attack.

  Rogue focused on the dark corner of the room. The henchmen were close to Ricochet’s position. If they found him they’d shoot him dead just as surely as she was going to be shot dead. Losing her life she could deal with. Ricochet losing his wasn’t acceptable. Options ran through her brain.

  She could jump from the chair. Cause a commotion drawing their attention away from him. She’d take a bullet, no doubt, but at least he would have a chance. Or, she could count on her team to come through. Boomer, Ricochet and Kong had been in tight spots before. They surely knew what to do.

  Have faith in them, Ronnie.

  Her mother’s voice whispered her ringing ears. “Mama,” she groaned.

  “Shut up,” Grear shouted pulling a handgun from under his suit coat.

  Veronica felt the barrel press against the back of her head.

  “Find out what
the hell is back there so I can get on with this. I’m behind schedule and you morons are slowing me down more.”

  Veronica closed her eyes and trusted in her mother’s voice and Ricochet’s skill.

  Ricochet crouched low in the darkness as the two approached. This was it, the entire mission was about to come to a head. He only prayed that when it was over Veronica was alive along with the rest of the team. He flexed his fingers around his gun, prepared to launch himself like a tiger when they came closer.

  “I don’t see anything. Probably a couple of rats,” one man said to the other.

  “Better take a closer look just to be sure. The old man’s getting jumpy and he’ll shoot anyone when he’s like this.”

  Holding his breath, Ricochet silently prayed the two men wouldn’t see him but he knew better. Without proper cover he’d stick out, even in the shadows. Belief that his team was looking out for him kept him from jumping the gun.

  The cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against the side of his bald head. The air in his lungs hissed out like balloon with a pinhole and his heart stuttered before it began racing.

  “Come out nice and slowly,” the man instructed.

  Not on your life, buddy, he thought to himself. Springing to his feet he swung out with the butt of his rifle catching the man in the face. As he stumbled Ricochet turned his attention to the man coming directly at him.

  It all happened in a strange sort of slow motion. The goon raised his pistol, drawing a bead right at his chest. Ricochet dived to the ground, rolled across the dirt floor and kicked out, cutting him off at the knees. Before his pursuer hit the ground he was back up and headed toward him to finish the job.

  Two steps away from making sure his opponent didn’t get up, pain exploded in his head. Brilliant white light filled his sight as pain over took every nerve in his brain. He struggled to stay conscious. He must stay aware, he kept telling himself as he slumped to his knees. Must help Veronica.

  “Get the hell up.”

  The voice snarling at him seemed miles away but he clung to it. An anchor in a hurricane.

  “I said get up.”