The last bit of intel came three hours earlier, indicating the two women secured and guarded in a room at the back of a lavish cabin. The owner, a powerful Broadway producer, was out of the country for another month. The remote location made it the perfect spot for an abduction of this kind.
Local law enforcement had been excluded from the mission. The clandestine op would be a quick snatch and grab of two friendlies. Two young women who’d come from a family of fame and wealth, making them a priority target for men such as Zahir.
Hostage rescue missions were something they’d completed many times since joining the Brethren. None were the same and all were successful.
Wrath checked the time once more. “Final comm check, gentlemen.” After they all reported for the last time, he triggered the op.
“Three…two…one. Go, go, go!”
He’d planned a simultaneous direct action op. All three teams would move at once, neutralizing tangos and extracting their targets. Ghost’s Team A and Rock’s Team B would approach from the front corners, drawing attention, so Wrangler and Team C could breach the back entrance to extract the two hostages.
Over the comm, he heard the pop, pop, pop of weapons discharging.
“Team A. Report.”
“We’ve got a problem, Big Bird,” Ghost replied. “Reported tangos are not present. Repeat. No sign of tangos.”
Rock’s voice came over the comm. “The same with Team B, Big Bird. White space everywhere.”
“Dammit,” Wrath muttered, adjusting his earpiece as he considered the reasons. One jumped out at him, causing bile to clog his throat. “Team C. Report condition of hostages.”
“Those fucking pieces of shit.” Wrangler’s anger spilled through the comm.
Frustrated, Wrath spoke again. “Team C. I repeat. Report condition of hostages.”
There was a short pause before his brother’s voice rasped over the comm. “They killed the women.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Abort! Abort!” Raider’s sharp, strident voice echoed through the comm. He didn’t wait for Wrath to intervene and approve. “Repeat. It’s a trap. Tangos approaching from north side. Abort!”
“We can’t leave the bodies. I’ve got one. Fuse, you’ve got the other.”
“Roger that, Wrangler.”
“Banner. Provide cover.”
“Affirmative.”
Moving as fast as possible through the house and out the front door, Fuse and Wrangler exited first, Banner holding back, all rushing toward the protection offered by the other two teams. Staying low, they dashed across the open expanse as shots hit the ground around them while Teams A and B returned fire. Stumbling, Wrangler righted himself before ducking into the cover of the thick vegetation.
“At least twenty hostiles approaching from behind us, Ghost.”
“Roger that, Wrangler.”
The instant they disappeared into the underbrush, Rock spoke through the comm. “Team B. Make sure those sonsofbitches get no closer.”
“Affirmative, Rock.”
“Team A. Blanket the area with frag grenades to support Team B.”
“Roger that, Ghost,” Gunner responded.
Fargo and Gunner threw the lethal weapons. The resulting blasts sent shrapnel within a radius of fifteen meters. Screams and a lull in return fire told them they’d done their job. If not lethal, they’d slow the hostiles’ advance.
“Rock. Are you and your men able to assist Team C back to the rendezvous spot?”
“Affirmative, Ghost. We’ll provide cover until they board.” Two helos were to be ready to whisk the teams out of the area.
The tat tat tat of automatic fire came through the comms at the same time Wrath gave another order. “Team B. Hold off tangos while C and A load into the helos.”
“Roger that, Big Bird,” Rock answered. “Team B will confirm they’re aboard before we withdraw from our position.”
Tracker threw additional frag grenades while Rock and Moses used their M4 carbines to blanket the area, keeping the hostiles occupied.
“They’re flanking our left side, Rock,” Moses shouted through the comm, shifting to sweep his M4 across the area.
Shouts of those wounded and dying mixed with exploding grenades, yet the return fire didn’t stop. Glancing around the cover of a thick pine, Rock saw six more tangos emerge from behind the house, advancing in their direction.
“Shit. Where the hell are they coming from?” Tracker dropped to the ground, squeezing off several more rounds, followed by Rock and Moses.
“Teams A and C loaded. Team C helo flying out. Team A waiting for you. Get your asses over here, Rock.” Ghost’s sharp voice burst through the comm.
“More hostiles advancing,” Rock answered, unable to withdraw with bullets flying inches above his head. “We’re pinned downed, Ghost.”
“Enough of this shit,” Ghost muttered. “Fargo?”
“I’ve got them covered.” Raising the shoulder-mounted anti-tank weapon, he fired an RPG, reloaded, and fired another.
“We’ve got your six, Rock. Go, go, go!” Ghost’s command preceded another RPG exploding well beyond Team B’s position while M4s covered the tangos.
“Moses. Tracker. Move out!” They looked at each other, not wanting to leave Rock. “Get your asses out of here. Now!” Rock rose to his knees, the M4 secure against his shoulder.
His shots added to those coming from Team A, allowing Tracker and Moses to cover the distance to the helo and jump inside. Glancing over his shoulder, Rock turned to run when a blast ripped through his shoulder, toppling him to the ground.
“Rock’s been hit!” Moses shouted. Grabbing his medic pack, he prepared to jump to the ground, halting when Ghost grabbed his arm.
“Give me your pack. I’ll get him.”
“Negative. You can come with me, but I’m going, Ghost.” Moses glanced at Tracker, who nodded in understanding. He and the others would be expected to provide full cover so all three could return.
The instant Moses hit the ground, a large fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling.
Ghost grabbed his pack, turning toward the others. “Get him inside and prepare to leave. If Rock and I can’t get back, I’ll signal. And you damn well better go.”
Not waiting for a response, Ghost ran, dodging one way, then another as he closed the distance to Rock. Diving, he flattened himself alongside his friend.
“Get the fuck out of here, Ghost.” Rock’s ragged voice indicated severe pain and loss of blood.
“Not happening.” He levered up on one elbow, watching blood soak through Rock’s shirt. The round had entered at the edge of the Kevlar vest, tearing through the muscles in his upper arm and shoulder. Ripping open a thick pad, he pressed it against the wound. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.”
“Fuck you,” Rock growled, wincing at the pressure on the wound.
Raising, Ghost looked around. The tangos had taken cover, no longer sending shots over their heads. Pulling his SIG from its holster, he swung around, muttering a string of curses. Moses and Tracker were approaching at a fast rate.
Ignoring Ghost’s angry glare and the throbbing in his own jaw, Moses took a quick look at the wound. “We’ve got to get him on the helo so I can treat it.”
Ghost took one side, Tracker another, tugging Rock up. Moses raised his weapon, aiming toward the house.
“Get going. I’m right behind you.” Firing, he counted to three before following.
Those in the remaining helo provided more cover, Fargo launching two more RPGs. Return fire hit the ground around their feet as they moved as fast as possible given Rock’s size and weight.
Reaching the helo, Fargo and Gunner hauled Rock inside while Ghost, Tracker, and Moses jumped in behind.
“Go!” Gunner shouted at the pilot. Seconds later, the bird lifted, accelerating rapidly to leave the improvised battleground behind them.
“His blood pressure is dropping. Not much…yet.” Moses had cleaned a
nd dressed the wound as best he could in the helo, including starting an IV.
“I’m requesting permission to set down at the nearest hospital, sir.” The young helo pilot glanced behind him at Ghost, his voice steady, if somewhat strident.
“We need to get there stat.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gunner shot a look at the pilot who appeared not much older than nineteen. He had a brief thought of Lieutenant Commander Sage Montero, his ex-lover who’d requested a duty station on the other side of the country.
In part for broader experience, but more to put distance between them. He’d sensed the change in her months ago. She was getting attached, a fact Sage detested. The ultimate independent woman, she’d never expected their affair would turn into more, fighting her growing feelings each time they were together. Now she was gone.
“We have permission to set down at the helo pad, sir.”
“ETA?” Ghost asked.
“Five minutes, sir.”
“Make it two.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ghost felt the engine surge, heard Rock moan. He’d first thought the wound not serious. Now, he wasn’t so certain.
He knew there’d be a lot of explaining to do once they touched down. Bullet wounds always elicited a list of questions, often ending with the arrival of local law enforcement. Wrath already contacted Grayson, who assured them he’d handle any obstacles.
“Water.” Rock’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
“Sorry, buddy. No water yet.” Moses took a damp cloth, touching it to his friend’s lips. “That’s the best I can do right now.”
Rock’s eyes opened to slits when the helo landed. Outside, several members of the hospital staff waited with a stretcher. Beyond them, Ghost could see the lights of a police cruiser, two uniforms leaning against it. He’d deal with them after Rock was taken inside.
Blades slowing, the medical team rushed forward, expertly working with Ghost and Moses to move Rock onto the stretcher. Within minutes, he was in ICU.
A few brief questions settled Ghost’s concern about the experience of those treating Rock. The doctor had served in Afghanistan, as had one of the nurses, performing hundreds of surgeries in combat support hospitals.
Ghost and the remaining teams were due back in Liberty Lake. Moses would stay until Rock could be moved. Knowing their friend, it wouldn’t be long before he’d demand to be released.
Ghost spoke to the police officers, who’d taken charge of the women’s bodies, before boarding the helo with the others. There would be a shitstorm of press around the deaths, questions about the destruction of the Wagner home, and the unimaginable grief of the family.
Grayson, along with his ATF contact, had arranged to clear the area of dead tangos before the press arrived. All evidence of the SEALs’ involvement had disappeared. None of it made up for the fact the mission hadn’t ended as planned.
Ghost sat in the helo, arms resting on his bent knees, thinking of Wagner’s daughters. There’d never been a doubt about the two young women’s deaths. A single shot to the back of each head had been immediate and painless, although both had endured unknown terror before dying. Senseless violence which had accomplished nothing. Or was it?
Something didn’t add up in Ghost’s mind. Why target those two women, both daughters of a prominent media tycoon? Why kill them? Why a ransom request when the kidnappers planned to kill them before receiving the funds? Without providing details on where to drop the money?
SEALs often completed extraction missions but weren’t trained in the nuances of a kidnapper’s mind. A few had trained in behavioral analysis, though they weren’t as proficient as those in the FBI’s BAU.
There were too many unanswered questions. Ghost knew Wrath would have Raider do a deep dive into Preston Wagner’s background, his associates, known contacts. Whatever it took, they’d discover the true reasons the women died, and why Rock took a bullet to rescue prisoners already dead.
Raider’s fingers flew over the keys, his gaze moving between three screens on the wall in front of him. A few feet away, Penny Lane monitored one helo touching down near Liberty Lake, the second halfway over New Mexico.
They’d uncovered enough about Preston Wagner to make the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. The man’s wealth had soared over the last few years, even as the profits from his various companies dwindled. The disparity triggered more questions than answers.
Raider had located three offshore accounts Wagner used to stash his assets in Switzerland, Singapore, and the Cayman Islands. His U.S. accounts were big enough to fit his status, but didn’t compare to the holdings in foreign countries.
“Are you still tracking Malcolm Wendt and Junior Blackmore?” Penny stared at her own set of screens, one showing information on corporations.
“Yeah. What do you have?”
“On a hunch, I’ve cross referenced Wagner, Wendt, and Blackmore with the two corporations we uncovered. Magic Ruby Productions and Blue Highway Ventures. The address for both is the same as the offices for Wagner’s Superstition Films. Blackmore is the managing partner for Magic Ruby, and Wendt for Blue Highway.” She glanced at Raider, eyes sparking. “A little coincidental.”
“The hell it is.” He navigated his keyboard for less than a minute before leaning back, staring at what he’d uncovered. “The three have attended several social events together in the last year. They’re members of the Old Pacific Club. It’s a prestigious organization for those in the media business.”
A corner of Penny’s mouth ticked upward. “Thick as thieves.”
Raider nodded. “And tight as a band of vultures.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ali drew the covers over her head, willing the pounding on the front door, as well as the ringing of her phone, to go away. Wishing didn’t make it so, each continuing until she’d thrown off the blankets and sat up.
It had been a long night with the girls, and she’d consumed much more wine than normal. If Ali’s memory could be counted on, today was her day off. No rush of madness in the ICU, none of Dr. Hatcher’s condescending attitude, and no surprise visits from one of Jace’s exes.
Seeing him with Heidi, Ali had overreacted, finished her shift and left the hospital. She’d still hoped to hear from him. A few hours passed before she’d learned most of the Brethren had been called in for an assignment. They’d heard nothing before Ali said her goodbyes and drove home.
Rubbing her eyes, her attention went back to the ringing phone on her nightstand at the same time the pounding started again at the front door. Grabbing a long-sleeved flannel shirt, she slipped it on and picked up the phone. Her brows scrunched at the name on the screen.
Deputy Vela Bettencourt.
The pounding distracted her for an instant before she made the decision to take the call first.
“Hello?”
“Are you all right?”
The urgency in Vela’s voice had Ali glancing around. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Timmy’s been taken.”
Ali’s hand tightened on the phone. “When?”
“The foster parents reported it about an hour ago. I’m here with them now.”
Stomach roiling, Ali found it hard to draw a breath. Again, the noise at the front door snagged her attention.
“Hold on a minute. Someone’s at the door.”
“Ali! Don’t open it until you know who’s out there,” Vela warned.
Stopping midway through the living room, she looked between the phone and door. Ali had almost forgotten about the trouble with the MC member at the hospital, the multitude of warnings Jace had given her.
Closing the distance, she looked through the peephole and gasped. Jace stood on the front porch, worry and frustration etched on his face.
“I’ll have to call you back, Deputy Bettencourt.” Setting the phone aside, she stared at the door, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t prepared to see him yet, to talk about Heidi, but she wanted to know if he�
��d heard about Timmy.
“Open up, Ali.”
Checking the time, her jaw dropped. The antique clock on the mantel showed nine in the morning. She hadn’t slept so late in years.
Running a hand through her hair, she winced at her reflection in the mirror resting on the bookcase. Jace had seen her at her best, and in the morning when she woke up in his arms. Never had he seen her this disheveled.
Why did she even care? The last time she’d seen him, Jace had been holding another woman, with Ali standing less than fifteen feet away.
Grabbing the knob, she yanked the door open. “What do you want, Jace?”
His relief at seeing her unharmed couldn’t have been faked. “You’re all right.”
“Of course I’m—” The rest whooshed from her when he stepped inside, tugging her against him.
He stroked her hair before his hands cradled her head, covering her mouth with his. Feeling Ali melt against him, Jace’s arms clamped around her with no intention of letting go anytime soon.
“I got a call Timmy had been taken and thought…” His voice trailed off when his mouth once again took hers, letting her know the worry in his heart. Kicking the door closed, he lifted her into his arms, lowering them onto the sofa. His tongue tracing the lush fullness of her lips, he speared inside, exploring the recesses of her mouth.
Feeling his hand move under her top, Ali knew if she didn’t stop him now, it wouldn’t take long to get lost in his taste and touch. Then they’d be in her bed and all rational thought would dissolve.
Placing her hands against his chest, she pushed lightly, missing his warmth the instant she drew away. Attempting to stand, she relented when he refused to let her go.
“What do you know about Timmy?”
Withdrawing his hands from under her top, he dropped them to his thighs. “Chief Bettencourt called Wrath, who contacted me. He wanted to know if we thought Timmy might have run away again.” Tugging her back against him, he brushed another kiss over her swollen lips before moving along the soft skin of her neck.
Exposed (Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Book 7) Page 12
