Her arm caught. She whipped around, ready to punch.
“Whoa, chief.” Griffin held up his hand. “Look.” He pointed toward the crate. “It’s rigged.”
Kazi flipped her gaze to the box. Her heart skipped a beat. Then another. No! She darted to it, her eyes tracing the wiring under a wash of green. Resisting the urge to kick the wood and blow them to kingdom come, she took a step back. Schooled her reaction.
Think it through. Think it through.
“How far to the camp?”
If she told him, he could abandon her. Leave her to die.
He scowled. “How far?”
She lifted her head, heavy with the helmet.
Griffin’s shoulders seemed massive under the NVG monochromatic display. He seemed massive. She didn’t need broad daylight to know fire flashed through his eyes. “Tell me the plan,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“And I need to know what we’re doing.”
“Only as I say.” She stood tall, refusing to back down.
“Who do you think I am?”
Defensiveness rose swift and solid, erecting an impenetrable fortress. “I don’t really care who you are. I don’t know you from Adam, and that means you’re someone who can get caught. You’re someone who can spill his guts when they cut off your ear. You’re someone who can get me killed because your mouth leaks.”
His head cocked to the side. “Baby Girl, I’m black ops, former Marine—Special Operations Command. The best of the best. Thirteen years. I’m trained to resist interrogations. You think I ain’t never been captured? Never been tortured?” He pivoted and hiked up the back, right side of his shirt. A long discoloration glared back. “They tried to take a piece of me.” He bent toward her, pointing to the scar on his neck. “Played ‘how deep can the knife go before it would sever my head.’ “
Kazi swallowed. His dossier didn’t mention captivity or torture. Then again, much of his file had been blacked out. As he spun away, her anger leached out, squeezing her heart.
No. Not her heart. She didn’t have one.
“So you’re black ops. You still have a mouth. If they find me, I’m dead. If they discover my contacts, your benefactor and all your friends are dead.” She stuffed her hands on her hips. “Is that what you want?”
“The plan, Kacie. I want the plan.” He stopped. “What happens if you die? I’m stuck and have no way to get Aladdin or any of the others. I need to know what the game plan is so we can move without hesitation.” He stepped forward. “I’m not here to steal your thunder. I want my men—alive. I want to go home to my family—alive.” Veins bulging along his temples, he took another step. “This isn’t a power grab, so stop acting like I’m the bad guy and tell me the plan!”
Tell me the plan? With him yelling at her? Sorry, Mr. Big-and-Bad, it didn’t work that way. She started toward the door.
“Never worked on a team, have you?”
Foot on the first step, she paused.
“See, me and my boys, we a team. We talk to each other, depend on each other. That keeps us alive, know what I mean? Makes us friends. No, more than friends—brothers.”
She hesitated at the emotion pulsing through his words and glanced to the side. “I’m an orphan.” Without meeting his gaze, she climbed another rung.
Behind her, boots scratched against the tunnel floor. A light touch on her arm forced her to look at Griffin—thank goodness he had his helmet on or she’d cave faster than a tiger trap.
“We are a team, Kacie. You and me.”
Being a team meant depending on someone else. That wasn’t going to happen. “If the weapons cache is rigged, it means my plan’s screwed. It means we’re going to get caught.”
CHAPTER 8
Baby Girl had issues. But that was all right by him. Griffin took hold of her arm and swung her around, simultaneously shifting until they stood almost nose-to-nose. Okay, nose-to-chest. For a woman who had more fight than most men he knew, she came in a tiny package. Even now, holding her arm, he was aware that his hand nearly engulfed her entire bicep—which was toned and stretched taut.
If he could see her eyes, Griffin knew there’d be fire pouring out of them. Under the glow of the moon, her white-blond hair seemed a halo. An angel stood before him.
“Kacie,” he said, keeping his tone low but firm. “There’s a reason Lambert had you get me out first.” His heart pounded as she looked up at him, the moonlight reflecting off her milky-white complexion. She was determined to keep him under her control. That was okay. If she needed that, he knew how to work her to get what he wanted. “Promise me this—since you can’t give me your whole trust, then just give me a leg.”
She drew her head back. “What?”
“An elephant can only be eaten one bite at a time. So—just give me a leg.” He nodded. “I need that—to know you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours. That if I go forward, you’ve got my six. Together, we work together, or we’re done before we get started.”
Man he hated her wearing those NVGs. Couldn’t see what her eyes were doing, what her expression was. What was she thinking? What kept this woman bound so tight in a cage of fear? That’s what everything boiled down to, right? Fear—fear of failure, fear of being hurt. And he had this really whacked need to know what made this woman tick, what hurt her so bad that she stared at him now as if he’d stepped off a Martian ship.
“Fine. A leg.”
He resisted the smile, knowing it’d probably set her off.
“But know, so help me God, that if you double-cross—“
“God will help us, Baby Girl. He will.”
“I need someone I can touch—or punch, not a God who hides out in heaven while we run amok on this planet.”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “We’re wasting time. Tell me the plan.”
A curt nod. Her arm lifted, her gaze still locked on his, as she pointed east of their present location. “Less than a kilometer over that rise is the village.”
“How many people?”
“At least a hundred Hamas. Their wives and children, too, that we know of.”
“And who’s ‘we’?”
Her lips stretched taut. “That’s not part of the leg.”
“Okay.” He planted one hand on his tactical belt and dragged the other over his face, already feeling the stubble. “Where’s Aladdin being held?”
She nodded to the left, and he followed her out of the tunnel into the night. They went to their knees and crawled a few paces before flattening themselves against the sand. Hauling herself into position, she pointed out across the road to the village.
Shoving himself into place, Griffin eyed the location.
“Center map, see the antennae?”
Thanks to the advanced technology, the scene lit up and seemed closer. He focused on the building sprouting wire like a naked tree in winter.
“Two structures to its nine o’clock, a large squat building—it’s an abandoned school. Two levels: ground and basement. Intel has your guy in the basement.”
Scanning through the puke-green imagery, Griffin traced the perimeter, noting the heavy guns. “They’re prepared for a fight.”
“Just watch, grid red three—your upper left.”
And he did. For the next fifteen, they remained belly-down on the rocky location. A sentry made its patrol, then returned to his location. Then the guard who held red three paced near a door. An arm reached out from the stairwell that descended into the dwelling. The guard went down. His booted feet dragged out of view. Who had—?
Griffin started to pull away the binoculars.
“Red two,” Kacie said.
He had barely zoomed in on the location before the second guard vanished.
“It’s time.”
He shoved his mind and body into action, hustling down the incline to the city, following her lead. Either she’d bought out someone or had someone on the inside. Regardless,
they were one roadblock less on the highway to recovery.
Boots crunched as he rushed toward the village. He slammed his spine against the first dwelling, taking position beside Kacie. He tapped her shoulder, indicating his readiness. She bolted ahead, then flanked left.
Griffin shouldered his weapon as he snaked through the winding paths of the village. He hated this—had seen this mazelike tangle snaking between homes and buildings in combat before. Clearing a village. Routing radicals. Seizing terrorists.
Following her with the aid of his NVGs felt much like following a firefly—her movements quick and agile. But his mind was on Aladdin. The guy had ticked him off more times than his sister, but he was part of Nightshade. That meant family.
Mind traipsing through the horrendous field of torture methods he’d seen and experienced firsthand, Griffin could only pray Aladdin was alive. The man had a resiliency that Griffin admired from day one, but even he knew what these extremists were capable of when hatred drowned their sense.
A man stepped out from an alley.
Kacie launched at him.
Griffin flicked his finger off the trigger—had he not, he would’ve shot the only person who knew exactly where Aladdin was and how to get him out.
In the space of two heartbeats, she had the guy out cold. She hauled him back into the alley and waved Griffin onward. Pace quickened, they rounded several corners.
Gotta be getting close.
As he took a hard left, Kacie stopped short.
Griffin rolled to the side to avoid knocking her into the open. Across a stretch of road wide enough for two cars to narrowly pass, he saw the building. Tucking his focus into a tight ball, he steadied his mind.
A scream shot through the night.
Kacie jerked.
Though she didn’t look at him, Griffin read the body language. Drawn shoulders, hands to the side. Shoulders bunched. Ready for a fight. Which told him something in her plan had gone wrong.
Two shadows coalesced in the main doorway of the building.
Griffin sighted and fired with the silenced weapon. Once. Twice.
Thump.
Thump.
Kacie bolted across the street.
Staring down the barrel of his weapon, he hurried after her, aching for his team, for the reassurance of the bound-and-cover techniques they’d perfected. The precision with Frogman and Cowboy never missing a beat, seeing what needed to be done yet remaining cohesive and lethally effective.
Kacie tugged one of the men out of view. Holding the other man’s shirt, Griffin dragged him back into the building. He flipped up the NVGs as the glare of fluorescents nearly blinded him. Inside, he crouched and swept his weapon around as his vision adjusted. But Wonder Woman was already halfway down the hall.
About to step into the open, he hesitated as a steel door at the far end groaned open.
Kacie did some sort of wicked somersault, launched into the air, and grabbed an exposed pipe. She swung herself up around it, straddled the pipes, then balanced her feet on it and waited in a tight crouch in the three-foot crawl space.
What was she, Spider-Man’s sister?
Boots squeaked on the vinyl floor, nudging Griffin into the shadows as he locked his attention on the man stalking toward him. Voices skidded into his awareness. No, not voices. A voice. The man was on a cell phone.
About to take the guy out, Griffin noted Kacie’s signal. Don’t shoot? Was she crazy? If he didn’t—
The man pivoted, punched a door open, and disappeared.
When the door shut, Griffin stepped out and scowled at Kacie, who dropped to the ground, knees bending as they absorbed the shock of her landing.
“What was that?” he whispered.
Without answering, she hurried through the first door the man had entered. They eased their way through, cleared left and right. Griffin’s stomach lurched. A stairwell. Nothing said booby trap like a stairwell. Muzzle sweeping up, down, right, left, he eased himself down the stairs. Wonder Woman didn’t seem so confident here either. Maybe she realized the danger, or maybe she knew something he didn’t.
The thought held Griffin on the landing. Just past her, he spotted a steel door. What was beyond it?
More voices.
Griffin glanced back to the top of the stairs. Definitely coming that way.
“Psst!”
He darted a look to Kacie.
She slid across the landing and flattened herself against the wall, bobbing her head toward the door next to her.
Both doors? People coming through both doors? His heart rapid-fired. They were as good as dead!
Only as he leapt toward her, caught her hand, and whipped her around, did it register with Kazi that men were coming from both doors. Riddell spun her around and tucked her into the dank corner beneath the upper stairwell. Pressed into the darkness, his bulk shielding her, she closed her eyes.
This was too familiar. Too…
No, don’t think about it. It’s a job. You’re in control.
She clenched her fingers at her side, mentally pushing herself away from his large frame. Focused on listening to the two men who’d just stepped into the fire well. A stream of Arabic flowed through the space, echoing. Leader informed Minion they were on schedule. That nothing unusual had come up. But Minion informed him the sentries hadn’t reported in for their last patrol.
“I’ll check on them.” Team Leader spun and stormed up the steps.
Griffin lunged and reached through the stairs. He caught the man’s ankles and yanked hard.
Realizing Griffin’s intention, she launched at Minion. Leapt into the air and slammed her feet into his chest. Even as she did, she heard the loud thwack of Leader’s head hitting the steel-grate steps.
Minion flopped back like a rag doll, no doubt wondering if he’d ever breathe again. His head snapped back—right into the stair support. Crack! He dropped hard.
Within seconds, she and Griffin were in the bowels of the facility.
Again, he caught her hand and tugged her toward the open door. “Let’s move. Check over there, and I’ll cover this. Find him and rendezvous back here.”
Kazi jerked free. Took a step back.
Legend stopped and looked at her, confusion rippling through his brow.
He couldn’t seize control. “This is my mission. We do this on my terms.”
His jaw went slack. “You got to be kidding me.”
She hardened her expression and stood firm.
He raised his hands. “Fine. Aw’ight.” He motioned toward the door. “Can we go save my man now…Majesty?”
Anger tightened her chest.
“What?” Legend covered his mouth, gaped, then placed it over his chest. “Did I forget to bow? My bad. Here…” With a grand, sweeping motion, he bowed. Craning his neck at her, he cocked his head. “Now can we go?”
Heat poured into Kazi’s face and neck. Two-handed, she shoved him. “This a game to you, Legend? Or did you get that name by being a legendary pain in the—“
“My man.” He pointed to the door, nostrils flaring. “Now.”
“You’re going to get us killed.” She rushed past him into the long, narrow corridor. The holding area should be straight ahead, well guarded.
But it wasn’t.
She slowed, reaching for the handgun holstered at her thigh.
Legend frowned, signaled for her to ease back away from the door. He retrieved a canister, pulled a ring, then nodded at her.
Silently, she indicated with her fingers, Three…two…now!
She jerked open the door.
Legend tossed the flash-bang.
Tink-tink-tink.
Shouts erupted.
Boom!
Shielded from the concussion, she and Legend waited a two-count.
The door flung open.
Griffin kicked it back, ramming the steel into the man’s face. The guy wobbled, then slumped to the ground. Griffin grabbed the door and yanked it open. Kazi rushed into the ro
om.
Plumes of green smoke rose like a poisonous vapor reaching toward the low-slung ceiling. A light popped. Glass rained down.
Thwat! Thwat!
Knowing Griffin went left, she aimed right—
A dark form rose out of the green smoke.
She went for her weapon.
Thwat! Thwat!
The form seemed to be sucked back into the vapor. Only as he vanished did it register that someone had shot the person. She glanced back and spotted Legend, who turned and engaged with another guard. Had he shot the guy?
“Find him,” Legend shouted.
Right. Kazi pivoted and scanned the long, rectangular room. Pipes snaked across the ceiling, intersecting and bypassing pendant lights—which were out, thanks to her contact who’d cut the power. As she held the weapon up, staring down the sights, she moved through the smoke. She stepped over a body, then skirted a table bolted into the ground. The floor dipped down, which told her most likely a drainage area—waterboarding?
Okay, so where was the objective?
She licked her lips and scissor-stepped, her senses pinging. As the haze cleared, she turned a slow circle, probing every dark crevice and object. To her right, she heard Legend’s boots squeak as he approached.
Her gaze struck his.
M4 at the ready, he scoped the area. The right side of his lip was fat and bloodied, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His focus was singular. He wanted his guy back. “Where is he?”
Kazi took one more look around the room. “He’s not here.” The confession felt as if she’d sprung a leak in a tanker, her hopes sinking.
Like a storm moving in off the coast, his expression went from terse to hurricane-strength fury. “What do you mean? You said—“
She stomped to the far end then back to the middle. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re right it doesn’t. I trusted you—“
Clang. Clang.
“Why did I ever think—?”
“Shut up.”
Clang.
Acholi, Uganda
The shout felt like a sucker punch to the chest. Scott grabbed Ojore’s shirt and propelled him back the way they’d come, away from the suit chasing them. Bake to safety. Back to where Scott had some semblance of control and wasn’t facing yellowcake contamination. Sprinting through the tunnels, he listened to the chaos erupting behind them. Ojore stumbled, but Scott caught his shirt again, hauling him upright.
Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) Page 9
