by Zoe Dawson
“You are a kick-ass babe in every way.” There was a glimmer of humor in his tone. Smoothing her hair back with both hands, he held her head and kissed her, then withdrew from her. She felt almost raw and didn’t want to let him go, but they had to move. There was no more time for them. The next few hours were all about Paige and Chris.
They washed up, then got ready to go, Pitbull trying the phone one more time before they left, but it was still out of order.
Outside in the street, she shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight. Pitbull touched her shoulder, slid his hand down her arm to her hand. She squeezed it and tried to smile.
“Stick close,” he said.
He moved toward a motorcycle with purpose and threw his leg over it. She climbed on, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“We’re going to get there in time,” he said over his shoulder.
“I know,” she said back, holding onto him harder as he hot-wired the engine and it came rumbling to life.
After a very short collective combat nap, Mad Max and Jugs, moving as quickly as he ever did, ran with the team until they reached a cluster of buildings, signaling the edge of a small town. Jugs was agitated, but he kept him quiet with a soft order. The opening in the canopy gave Max hope, and it paid off as Fast Lane cued his mic and said, “TOC do you read? Come in TOC.”
Kai’s frazzled voice came over the line. “Copy TOC. Thank God. We have coordinates to targets. How do you copy?”
“Good copy,” Fast Lane growled. Then he released the button. “I’m about ready to get a good break in this cluster.”
Everyone nodded as a motorcycle roared to life a couple of blocks over. Kai read off the coordinates, and 2-Stroke was already synchronizing them as she spoke.
“Exfil?” Fast Lane asked.
“I’m working on the Paraguayan government right now, wading through red tape to get access to the country,” she said. “We’re a no go until they okay it. Stand by.”
“Fast Lane, this is Lieutenant Sanders.”
“Go for Fast Lane,” he said.
“When Victor was released from jail, he contacted his lawyer who gave us evidence and a sworn statement that his brothers were involved in the death of the NCIS and DEA agents. They are now your HVT targets as well. Bring them in alive if possible.”
“That’s a good copy, TOC,” Fast Lane said.
It was a tense thirty-minute wait, then Kai came back on the line. “It’s a go. Exfil chopper will be there.”
“Heading to targets,” Fast Lane said, then turned to them. “Get some food into you, then find me some transportation.
Hemingway and Dodger ditched the stolen jeep in the jungle about two klicks south of the Cortez compound. When Dodger had driven up in it like he owned it, Hemingway opened his mouth and Dodger held up his hand with a laugh. Better he didn’t know.
They traveled through the jungle on foot until they came to the eight-foot stone wall, alert for armed guards.
“Now what?” Dodger said.
“We do recon, locate the back gate, neutralize the guards, then breach the compound.” Hemingway was still frustrated the phones had been down in that small town, along with the flat tire that had delayed them even more.
Dodger studied Hemingway. “Just like that, rookie?”
“Yeah. The team will be here. I have no doubt. Mak and Pitbull are already heading to the exchange location with the twins. We can catch Vero and Val off guard. I feel it in my gut.”
“I’m supposed to let some rookie gut dictate to me whether two woefully armed men, one of them who hasn’t even started BUD/S yet, can effectively creep into a heavily guarded base and extract two prisoners.”
“Yeah,” Hemingway said again.
Dodger nodded, his eyes going steely. “Right, then. Just checking.”
Hemingway chuckled in spite of himself.
“But with any luck, our boys will be here to pull our asses out of the fire if we mix it up with the guards. It should be easy enough to get inside since we have the codes.” Dodger said, his eyes continually scanning.
“What’s that you guys say? Right, the only easy day was yesterday.”
“Yesterday sucked,” Dodger said with a grin. “Oh, and let me remind you once again.” He grabbed Hemingway’s tack vest. “Don’t bloody well get shot, you wanker.”
They settled in to wait for nightfall.
Mak and Pitbull left the motorcycle and ran from the north to the compound. They crouched beside the wall. It was getting darker by the minute. “We’ll have to scale it,” he said.
“You have a grappling hook in that bag, Mary Poppins?”
“I do, but—” He bit his lip and it looked so sexy on him. “It’ll make a lot of noise.”
She spied a tree overhanging the wall. “I think I have a better idea. Give me the rope and the hook.”
He complied and she clipped it on her belt. She backed up several yards. Before Pitbull could say anything, she bolted in a hard run, then spring jumped. She sailed straight for the lowest branch and grabbed it underhanded. It dipped with her weight and her body shot straight out, level with the branch, and her hips hit the branch straight on. She used the force to push off, and like a boomerang, her body in a perfect tight line, she shot backward and swung up into a handstand.
She balanced for a second and then slowly bent her lower body until her boots touched the same branch. She straightened, looking down. He saluted her with silent amazement.
She dipped down and shimmied along the branch until she was close enough to the top of the wall to step onto the stone. Crouching there, she looked into the compound, hidden by the heavy growth of leaves and the cloak of darkness.
Guards moved in a crisscross pattern. She unclipped the rope and wedged the grapple into the opposite side of the wall and dropped the rope down to Pitbull. He pulled on it to lock the metal in place, then climbed up beside her.
“Damn, woman. That was impressive.”
“Yoga,” she said, and he chuckled low. “Okay, a bit of gymnastics in my youth.”
“Now we just need to get inside the structure.”
“It’s a good thing I brought a SEAL.”
He chuckled. He grabbed the grapple and hooked it to the opposite side of the stone wall, then pulled, his biceps bulging. He slipped over the wall and rappelled to the ground, hiding in some bushes at the edge of the lawn. He motioned her down when the guards’ backs were to them.
She descended nimbly and joined him, pulling out her weapon. “I’d sure like one of those assault rifles,” she said.
“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He moved away from the bush, staying low and stalking one of the closest guards. Before the man even knew what hit him, he was dead. Pitbull dragged him behind the bush with them and handed her the rifle. “Let’s move.”
Hemingway and Dodger had neutralized the guards at the back gate, then punched in the code. They slipped silently inside, closing the gate with minimal noise. Moving together, they made their way past the garage to the main structure. Again, they punched in the code to gain access to the house.
Once inside, they disabled the security system. The first thing to do was to take care of the guards monitoring the property.
They found the room and Dodger nodded as Hemingway set his hand on the door handle. They breached, Dodger taking out the two guards inside. They watched the monitor. “Only two guards inside. That’s doable, one downstairs and one up. After that confirmation, they disabled the cameras.
“Let’s find them,” Dodger said.
“We should split up.”
Dodger shook his head. “There are still a ton of guards outside.”
“Agreed, but we’ve already cleared our exfil out the back. It’ll be faster and with only two guards, we can handle it.”
Dodger sighed. “LT will have my arse if this goes sideways.”
Hemingway watched as he deliberated, antsy to find Paige. “I’ll go down, you up?” he pro
mpted.
“All right, but be careful.”
Dodger headed for the stairway through the kitchen while Hemingway started looking for a basement door.
Mak and Pitbull reached the front door, taking out two guards along the way. He reached for the handle, but Mak stopped his hand. “What about security?”
He looked through the window and frowned. The light is green.”
“What?” Mak asked, wondering if someone had forgotten to reset the alarm. “Our lucky night,” she whispered.
He turned the handle and they both breathed a sigh of relief when there was no sound of alarm. Slipping inside the dark foyer, they headed to the main staircase. “I’ll go up,” Pitbull said.
Mak nodded. “I’ll find the basement.” He grabbed her arm, bringing her close for one second. “Be careful, babe.”
“You too,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. She started toward the back of the house, checking doors as she went until she saw one door ajar. Looking behind her, she made her way through it. Creeping silently down the stairs, she stepped through the open door at the bottom. There were several halls branching out. She’d have to search to find her friends. She took a step and a creak alerted her. She whirled around as a guard materialized, his gun on her.
She brought hers up, but it seemed like everything was moving in slow motion. She was going to be too late.
Pitbull nudged the door open and found Val Cortez, gagged and hog-tied beside his bed. “Don’t move,” a steely voice said from the shadows.
Vero Cortez materialized with a gun on Pitbull. He stepped around the bed and motioned with the muzzle for him to step away from his brother.
“Who are you?”
Pitbull said nothing and Cortez growled.
“Who are you?”
Still, Pitbull didn’t speak. Cortez chambered a round into his weapon. If it went off, the remaining guards would hear the shot and come running. Mak needed more time to find her friends.
“I’m here to rescue your hostages, Cortez. Give them up. You’re through.”
“American Special Forces. How did you find us?”
“Victor. He and Vincent are dead. Drug runners blew us out of the sky and kidnapped them. Vincent sustained a head injury and died. One of the gun runners at the camp shot Victor when we tried to rescue him. He wants us to deliver a message to your mother.”
“Us?”
There was an audible crack, and Vero Cortez dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Yeah, us,” Dodger said with a grin, his rifle butt taking care of the threat. “Saved your arse, mate. I think you owe me a pint.”
He looked at Val, who was glaring at them. “Your handiwork?”
“That would be mine. He was sleeping like a baby. Bob’s your uncle.”
Pitbull chuckled and picked up his weapon. “The floor clear?”
“Except for an old woman in the room at the end of the hall, yeah. She must be ninety. I secured her.”
“You cuffed an old woman to her bed?”
“Damn straight. I never take chances.”
“The prisoners?”
“Hemingway is searching for them.”
“What the fuck!” Dodger cringed. “You brought Hemingway? Do you have a death wish? LT is going to hang you from some yardarm.”
“Hemingway was the one who figured out where the compound was located. I was supposed to babysit him, but damn, mate, he’s brilliant. If I had tried to leave him behind, he would have followed. This way he was safe with me.”
Pitbull shook his head. “There’s going to be fallout.”
Dodger looked chagrined and said, “Yeah, I know. He’s going to be a brilliant SEAL, though. He only has one obstacle.”
“Fast Lane.”
“Yeah, he’s going to have my arse for this, his too.”
Pitbull nodded. “Probably.” He headed toward the door. “Where is Hemingway?”
“In the basement.”
“That’s where Mak went.” He increased his speed. “Geezus, I hope he doesn’t mistake her for a guard. Let’s go.”
They heard a muffled shot and Dodger said, “Bollocks.”
Fear gripped Pitbull in a vise, and he started to run.
Mad Max and four of his ghostly friends approached the front gate on silent but deadly feet. “Punch in the code,” he said.
In the distance, the sound of a chopper beat the night air. Exfil was already on the way.
“Security is off, LT.”
“Hmm,” he grunted. “Well, get the damn thing open.”
2-Stroke punched in the code and the gate started to swing open. A guard shouted and the SEALs opened fire.
Jugs, released from the leash, ran at one of the guards and took him down with a flying leap, holding him at bay from firing on any of his buddies. Mad Max took care of him, and with precision, they spread out, two of them heading toward the house and the others securing the grounds.
Mak heard a muffled shot and expected impact and pain.
But instead, it was the guard who crumpled to the ground. Hemingway stood across from her.
She strode forward and grabbed his vest. “What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the exchange site?” he asked at the same time. “To answer your question, saving your ass, I believe.”
“Right and thank you.” She sighed. “The twins are dead.”
“What happened?” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Her eyes widened. “You disabled the alarms. But how—”
“We don’t have time to discuss it now. We’ve got to find Paige and Chris. Let’s go.”
He took the lead, and she covered his back. Fast Lane was going to go off the deep end, but she’d worry about that after this was over.
They moved at a clip down the hall until they came to a locked door. “Keys,” Hemingway said.
“Right, the guard. I’ll be right back,” she whispered and ran back toward the dead guard. She searched him and found a set of keys, then raced back to Hemingway. Her hands shook as she inserted the key and turned the lock.
Inside were cells, and in one of the cells was Paige and Chris. She was rising, already anticipating more bad treatment as she put herself in front of Chris, his face swollen, blood on his shirt.
“Oh, my God,” she said, her eyes widening and filling with tears. “Mak.” She ran to the bars, and then she stopped. Atticus?” she whispered, as if she were dreaming. “Is that you?”
“Paige,” Hemingway said, running to the bars and grabbing his sister’s hands. “It’s me, sis. I’m here.”
“Oh, my God,” she sobbed, cupping his face, disbelief and joy in her eyes, tears running down her cheeks.
“It’s about damn time,” Chris groused with affection as Pitbull and Dodger came through the doors.
“The cavalry’s here, the exfil chopper is landing. Time to go,” Pitbull said, looking relieved when he saw her.
Mak shouldered Hemingway out of the way and unlocked the cell door. Paige hugged her hard, still crying, then her brother as he slipped his arm around her waist and helped her out of the cell toward the basement door. They paused there, and he pulled a black leather wallet out of his pants pocket, offering it to her.
Paige took her badge and clutched it as she hugged him, collapsing against him in a rush of tears.
Mak crouched down in front of Chris, her throat aching.
“Don’t cry, slugger. I’m okay. Just a little shot and beat up. Nothing that won’t heal.”
She had no idea she was even crying, brushing at her tears without shame. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him carefully.
“You two scared the bejeebers out of me,” she said. “Who the hell would get me my salad and coffee if something happened to you? Who else would protect me from flying Post-It notes?”
He laughed, then coughed. “Don’t make me laugh, Mak. That’s mean,” he choked out. She took his arm and he said, “I can walk,”
but then he collapsed against her with a groan. “Maybe not,” he grunted. Pitbull caught him and hoisted him over his shoulder.
“I got you, tough guy,” Pitbull said, giving Mak a tender look.
Together they left the basement for the chopper. Outside, the rest of Pitbull’s team was also heading toward the chopper, two SEALs escorting Vero and Val Cortez while the others carried a litter with their mother, covered with a blanket. Mak caught up and touched Max’s shoulder, and he halted. She bent down and whispered Victor’s dying words into the old woman’s ear. Her wrinkled face uplifted and her eyes filled with tears. She reached out and clasped Mak’s hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Mak came up to Paige and slipped her arm around her to help her walk.
The helo touched down and four figures exited. Mak stiffened when she recognized Kid Chaos, Paige’s husband. He moved at a determined pace and Paige said softly beside her, “Oh, God, Kid.”
There was chaos in his set blue eyes, mayhem in every line of his body as he pulled out a sidearm and pointed it directly at the Cortez Brothers. Everyone stopped moving.
“Kid, don’t do it,” a man said from behind him. “It’s not worth it.”
“No!” Paige yelled and limped over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “They’ll take you away from me, and I won’t be able to bear it. I’ll die, Ashe.” She sobbed into his neck and an anguished look contorted his face, the emotion there squeezing Mak’s heart. After a few more tense moments, Kid holstered the weapon and wrapped his arms around her.
“You’re both lucky I love my wife more than I want to kill you.” He picked her up in his arms and turned to the chopper, murmuring softly to her.
“That’s Ruckus, Cowboy and Wicked. Ruckus is his CO and the one who cautioned him against killing the brothers.”
