Untamed

by Shirleen Davies

  The second day, they’d shared a blanket at the edge of a stream, fishing poles in their hands. Each fish caught triggered another heavy make-out session. The next night, he’d gotten a motel room. It was the first time they’d made love. She had almost two more years of his attention before he left. Those three years together had been the most wonderful of her life. Becca learned his love had been too good to be true.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Santa Maria Mountains

  West of Liberty Lake

  Fargo crouched, securing the last of the explosives under a corner of the ramshackle cabin north of Wood Trap. It had taken less than half an hour to place explosives at the back corners, doing recon at the same time.

  He spoke into his comm unit. “Charges placed at rear corners. Eight tangos spotted. All in the front. No children. Repeat, no children. Back door is unlocked. On my way to you.”

  “Roger,” Rock answered. He and Gunner waited fifty yards north of the cabin, ready to advance after Fargo returned to his position. “Did you get that, Ghost?”

  “Affirmative. In position. Waiting for your go, Rock.”

  From the south, Ghost, Wrangler, and Tracker had belly crawled toward the ramshackle cabin, night vision goggles giving them an excellent view of the front. Since securing their position, not one of the tangos had emerged to check the area.

  Sloppy or lazy. Maybe both.

  “We’re moving in,” Rock said.

  “Movement inside,” Ghost answered. Peering through his night vision binoculars, he watched two tangos engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion. Both held AK-47s, headbands pulled low to cover their eyebrows. He’d begun to lower the binoculars, halting at a burst of gunfire. Shouts and confusion followed.

  “One of the tangos shot the other. Go! Go! Go! We’ll draw their attention to the front.”

  “Affirmative, Ghost,” Rock said.

  Fargo’s voice came through the comm unit. “Detonating charges. Three, two, one.”

  Blasts tore into the back walls of the cabin, flames quickly moving through the wood structure. The tangos burst through the front door, weapons at their sides.

  “Drop your weapons!” Rock looked to his left and right, seeing Wrangler and Tracker holding positions on their bellies, their UMP45s aimed at the front.

  Before Rock could yell the warning a second time, the tangos raised their rifles and fired.

  “Stupid fuckers,” Wrangler muttered before checking the scope and firing. Rock and Tracker joined him, each taking down one tango before the others raced back inside. “Four down. Four more to go.”

  Before the door slammed behind them, Fargo’s voice came through their comm units. “Hold your positions. Detonating another charge.”

  This one blew from underneath the house, shooting a funnel of flames through the middle of the structure. Terrorized screams rose above the swooshing sound of flames.

  “Come out,” Wrangler muttered.

  As if the remaining tangos had heard his words, the front door burst open. Rifles were thrown outside, followed by three men stumbling to the steps, jumping for safety at a fourth blast.

  “What the hell was that, Fargo?” Ghost asked.

  “Not mine. Probably propane from the stove,” he answered.

  “Where’s the fourth man?” Tracker asked no one in particular.

  Rock adjusted his earpiece. “One tango missing. Watch your six.”

  Rising from their prone positions, Wrangler, Rock, and Tracker stayed low, moving as one unit toward the men on the ground. Stopping several feet away, Rock kicked one of the men in the side.

  “Hands behind your heads.” They complied with Rock’s order as quickly as men could after surviving four blasts. “Where’s your buddy?”

  When no one responded, he used his size fourteen boot to provide some persuasion.

  “Dead.”

  Glancing up at the cabin engulfed in flames, Wrangler knew anyone left inside couldn’t have survived. “Let’s get them moving before anything else explodes.”

  Securing their hands with zip ties, Wrangler, Tracker, and Gunner yanked them up, marching the three toward their pick-up location. Rock, Ghost, and Fargo stayed behind long enough to do a quick recon. The fierce flames prohibited any attempt to drag the bodies off the porch.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Ghost nodded toward the location the helo would be landing.

  “Get down.” Rock’s warning had them shoving their prisoners to the ground before all three lifted their UMPs and whipped around. The man they’d thought dead crawled out the door, a rifle still clutched in his blackened hand.

  “Shit. I knew we should’ve brought Moses or Doc.” Ghost mentioned their medic and doctor as he stepped forward, never lowering his weapon. “Fargo, stay with the prisoners.”

  “Roger that.”

  Rock approached the cabin a few feet to the side of Ghost, watching the man’s life seep from him. By the way he tried and failed to suck in air, Rock knew nothing would save him. His lungs were ruined. He was suffocating.

  By the time they got to within a few feet of the porch, the man gave up his fight for air.

  Ghost shot a look at Rock. “Let’s get away from this inferno and meet the helo. I’m more than ready to blow this place before the Forest Service arrives.”

  Wrangler kept his weapon trained on the prisoners, scanning the eastern sky for the helo. The bird was late, a rare occurrence. Glancing behind him, he had a clear view of the dying flames over the low shrubs. This part of the Santa Maria Range was more arid than a mile farther along. There, the desert terrain transformed into forested trails. The NVGs and low landscape made it easy to spot Rock, Ghost, and Fargo running toward them.

  The familiar sounds of an approaching helo caught his attention. “Two minutes,” he called out. “Shit.”

  “What is it?” Tracker followed Wrangler’s gaze. “Sonofabitch. Our window of opportunity is closing fast.”

  “It’s a fuckin’ Sikorsky S-70.” Gunner looked back at the prisoners, giving them a warning glare. “The Forest Service sure got on this fast.”

  “We’ve got company coming,” Wrangler said as Rock, Ghost, and Fargo joined them.

  Ghost contacted their helo using the comm unit. “Unfriendlies coming up on your six.”

  “Saw them,” the pilot shouted back. “This will be a quick landing and takeoff. Toss the packages in, load yourselves, and I’ll rocket out of there.”

  “Damn, but I love that gal.” A broad smile crossed Gunner’s face. Grayson had sent their favorite lady pilot. A part of the admiral’s staff, she’d been assigned as their primary pilot, and was one of the few people under his command who knew the truth about Eternal Brethren.

  “Yeah, I’d ride in her cockpit anytime.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Fargo.”

  “Knock it off. One minute before the bird sets down, and another before it takes off.” Ghost checked his watch. “Shove these assholes inside and jump in behind them. We don’t want to delay our favorite lady.”

  Adrenaline rising, tension buzzed around the team. They couldn’t let the crew of the S-70 get close enough to identify them.

  They turned their faces away as the helo made a steady approach, kicking up dirt. The instant the pilot gave a thumbs up, the men shot into action. Ghost grabbed the pants and collar of one tango, throwing him through the wide opening, climbing in behind him. Gunner and Tracker did the same with the other two, jumping inside. Rock and Fargo followed, Wrangler a second behind them.

  Ghost’s chin lift signaled the pilot to take off, racing away a few short minutes before the S-70 began their approach. When the helo reached altitude, the men relaxed. Scooting forward, Gunner leaned into the cockpit.

  “Nice moves, Lieutenant Commander Montero.”

  A slow grin curved Sage’s lips. “Thank you, Chief Petty Officer Henson.”

  “Did you come all the way from Coronado?”

  “Not this time. Grayson re
ceived permission for us to fly out of Luke AFB. I think he’s looking for a place closer to Liberty Lake. Until then, Luke is a good compromise.”

  “What’s our drop point?”

  “Two minutes ahead at a small airstrip. My understanding is Sheriff McCord and his deputies will be meeting you. Commander McCord will have a vehicle to take your crew home.”

  “Then you’ll head back to Luke?”

  “The admiral has us returning to Coronado.” Sage patted the control panel. “This baby is scheduled for full maintenance, which means I’ll be flying another bird for a few weeks.”

  Considering his words, Gunner charged ahead with what he’d been wanting to ask for a couple years. “A few of us are heading your way next week for another round of training. We always have dinner at the Brigantine one night.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Gunner nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it is. Maybe you’d care to join us.”

  She held up her hand, adjusting her headset. “Roger that, Sheriff McCord. We’re cleared to land.”

  Gunner knew the drill. All her concentration would be centered on a safe landing, deployment of passengers, and a swift exit toward Coronado. He’d be lucky to get another two words out of her.

  “Yes.”

  Blinking, Gunner looked up at her. “Yes?”

  “Yes. I’d like to have dinner with you.”

  “You’re the man, Gunner.” Wrangler laughed, the others joining in as they bumped along a winding road toward their clubhouse.

  “Balls of steel is what he’s got.” Tracker slapped him on the back. “About time you made a move.”

  Gunner still looked gobsmacked. He’d been working up the courage to ask Sage out for months. No, years. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he did his best to ignore the friendly barbs.

  “Kind of hard to ask a lady out when she’s based in Coronado.”

  “Au contraire.” Tracker, their resident linguist, had a working knowledge of several languages, although he hardly used them outside a mission. “Banner, one of our newer guys, dates women in Southern California all the time.”

  “Did date them,” Wrath corrected from the driver’s seat. “I got wind of it and put a hard stop on those trips.” Chuckling, he glanced behind him. “Found out the kid was taking off late Fridays and returning about five in the morning on Mondays. He hid it for a couple months. Until I caught him sleeping more than once in the ops center at the clubhouse. Banner was with a different woman every weekend.”

  “Hell, I don’t even remember those days.”

  “That’s because you never found a woman interested in you, Fargo.” Wrangler winced at the solid slap to the back of his head. “Hey. Just telling the truth as I remember it.”

  Rock narrowed his gaze on Wrangler. “As I recall, it was you who had one woman on Fridays and a different one on Saturdays. The next weekend, there’d be two more. You were a real randy sonofabitch.”

  Forcing a laugh, Wrangler fell silent. He’d been thinking about the past few years a lot lately, feeling the sting of how he’d jumped from bed to bed, uncaring if the women wanted more. Even though Wrangler explained to each he had no interest in more than one night, few believed him. In their minds, he used them, leaving shortly after their heated round of sex.

  Heated round of meaningless sex.

  What a waste. All that time, he could’ve been with Becca and Jamie. Should’ve been with them, being the father his son deserved, and the husband Becca needed.

  “Are you seeing Jamie again this week?”

  Ghost’s question had Wrangler shoving aside his round of self-flagellation. “I pick him up from school tomorrow. We’re heading to Rock’s to go fishing.” His plan to call Cara and start joint custody proceedings remained unsaid. “Hope to take him and Becca out to dinner afterward.”

  Wrath shot him a look, as did Rock and Ghost. Everyone in the van knew of his history with Becca. How he’d been a real sonofabitch. To their credit, they’d kept silent on the subject. It didn’t help. He’d known all of them long enough to read the expressions on their faces. No matter their personal feelings, each one would always have his back.

  It was way past time he had Becca’s.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wrangler sipped the strong black coffee before sunrise Friday morning, thoughts of the mission, Jamie, and Becca jumbled together in his head. It had been a long, confusing week. He doubted it would improve.

  The debrief at the clubhouse had angered all six of the Brethren who’d risked their lives to bring in three live tangos. According to Wrath, they’d been handed bad intel. The location of the cell had been accurate. The timing had been a complete load of crap.

  Grayson had been on the phone during the debrief, every other word an overt oath against the traitorous Fed who’d provided corrupt information, purposely sending them on a fool’s mission.

  The admiral had already grilled the FBI Director, making certain the man knew the elite undercover team wouldn’t go on another mission unless every scrap of intel had been vetted through three separate sources. A requirement everyone, including Grayson, knew to be impossible.

  It was meant to underscore the severity of the admiral’s displeasure. The deployment of high-level resources should be reserved for the most critical missions. Assignments fully vetted and approved by the Secretary of the Navy. The night’s operation hadn’t been passed by SECNAV, a mistake the FBI Director agreed wouldn’t happen again.

  What Wrath and his men believed to be a holding spot for kidnapped children on their way to Mexico turned into a round-up of cell members. They’d missed the young boys by twenty-four hours. Hours which each man knew meant the abducted youngsters were already on their way to Thailand or Indonesia.

  In their minds, the mission was a miserable failure. It didn’t matter the intel had been tainted. What mattered was they hadn’t saved the children from a life sure to be filled with misery. The reality sickened each of the Brethren.

  The meeting adjourned at two in the morning, the men returning home for a few hours’ sleep before reporting back to the clubhouse at eight. Wrangler hoped the others had been able to get the shut-eye which eluded him. His exhaustion hadn’t been enough to shut down his overactive mind.

  What if one of the abducted boys had been Jamie? Would he be lying in bed, hoping for sleep if his son had been on his way overseas, destined to be sold to the highest bidder?

  Wrangler didn’t have to guess at the answer. If it were Jamie, he’d do everything in his power to find his son, legal or not.

  Checking the time, he set down his cup, grabbing his phone off the counter. The time had come to contact Cara. He’d already made his intentions clear to Becca. This morning’s call would be a formality, a trigger for his sister-in-law to prepare joint custody documents.

  “Hey, Wrangler.”

  “Morning, Cara. Sorry to call so early. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “First, you can call anytime. Second, Caid just left, so I imagine you’re close to taking off, too. What do you need?”

  “Are you still good with filing for me to have joint custody of Jamie?”

  A few moments of silence ensued, making him wonder if she had changed her mind about acting on his behalf. He knew finding another family law attorney wouldn’t be difficult. Still, he’d prefer working with Cara.

  “If you’re sure it’s what you want, then yes. I’ll start the paperwork as soon as I get into the office. Does Becca know your intent?”

  Blowing out a breath, he stared out the picture window toward the lake. “Yes. I don’t believe she’ll fight it.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t.”

  The comment surprised him. “What does that mean?”

  “If Becca does contest it, I’m certain it will be on the grounds your membership in an outlaw motorcycle gang makes you an unfit parent. Truthfully, I doubt she’ll go that route. If she does, we can work around it, but you need to know the
risk.”

  “We discussed it all before.”

  “Yes, we did. Still, it’s my job to bring it up again so you’re prepared for the worst. Since you won’t be able to admit the real reason for the Eternal Brethren, we’d have to attack it from the angle your membership doesn’t preclude you from being a good father.”

  “I’m not backing down, Cara.”

  “Didn’t expect you to. I’ll work on the filing myself. Will you be letting Becca know, or would you like me to tell her when she arrives in the office this morning?” When he didn’t immediately respond, Cara offered a possible solution. “Why don’t you let me tell her? I’ve got some good news I’ll give her before telling Becca of your request.”

  “What kind of good news?”

  “I should tell her first, but you’ve got a vested interest in this. Becca’s been accepted to law school. She’ll start classes in a few weeks.”

  A whoosh of air left his lungs. “That’s great. She deserves this chance.”

  “I’m glad you think so. To be honest, I didn’t know if you’d be supportive or not.”

  He tried to tamp down the irritation at her comment. “What makes you think Becca going back to school would be a problem?”

  “For one, she’ll be relying on you to help with Jamie.”

  “Done.”

  “That’s good to hear. Two, she might need some financial help.”

  “I already offered, Cara. She turned me down flat. Didn’t even agree to consider it.”

  “Maybe I can help. The dean agreed to give her a discount based on her employment with me. She might even increase the discount if I’m able to present the case you’re active military. However, that could create a whole other thunderstorm.”

  “Don’t go there, Cara. Grayson would skin me alive, and Becca would throw a fit. Besides, we aren’t married, so the fact I’m Navy won’t matter.”

  “Agreed. Just wanted you to know the options. Regardless, I’d have to get Becca’s permission.”

  “Which she won’t give. Stick with the employment option.” Rubbing his chin, Wrangler considered another option. “What’s the discount the dean is offering?”