Speed King (Men of Action)

by Ahren Sanders

  The sick motherfucker from the cartel was alone, taunting them about whose dick was going first. One look between us and we shot. He went down without a clue he’d been infiltrated.

  Good fucking riddance, you piece of shit. Talon spit on his dead body.

  Less than a day later, a Marine on vacation with his family in Costa Rica was abducted and brought here to Columbia. Not just any Marine, a high-ranking Marine with specialized communication skills.

  This cartel has upped their game.

  A naval ship out of San Diego with Marines on board is their target. They’re planning an attack on the ship with a man on the inside to relay communication back to them. With attention on the attack of a U.S. Naval ship, and speculation of who was responsible, the cartel could move shipments without eyes.

  I’ll give it to them. The mastermind behind this operation is slick. They’ve been under the radar until two days ago. While interpreting the ship’s communication system, MARSOC picked up an anomaly inside the message.

  It was the coordinates of this location. That was our sign.

  At exactly one-hundred and twenty seconds, we all move in. The exterior motion lights are disabled, but the house immediately flickers to life and shadows fill the windows.

  “I’ve got four,” Ford calls through his mic.

  “Same.” Major aims at the second level.

  We each take a window and wait. Talon throws a rock at the door and the shadows move, shooting through their glass. I bust through the door with the others close.

  There’s a millisecond to assess the room. One man’s eyes widen in shock, taking in our military status, and then he shouts as gunshots erupt. We return fire, taking them down easily.

  “Bet those cocksuckers wished they volunteered for the dinner run with their buds.” Talon’s voice comes through my earpiece.

  Major leads us down the hallway.

  Our intelligence of the property told us the rear of the house is all windows with a view of the water beyond a small cliff. The tunnel runs under that side of the property.

  We’ve been warned there are rooms hidden along the tunnel that aren’t on the plans. They could hold areas for almost anything—drugs, ammunition, artillery, whatever.

  Our only concern is getting the family. The rest of the teams can recon the tunnel.

  We round the corner and Major stops, signaling our prediction is correct. These guys are using the library as their command center. The only sound is the clicking of fingers typing. Then a man barks in loud, rapid-fire Spanish.

  Out of all of us, Major is the expert in linguistics. We can hold our own with the basics, but Major has spent the last few days studying the Columbian-style Spanish dialect.

  The man barking orders is getting more frustrated, his words coming too fast for me to pick anything up.

  “The others are less than five minutes out. He thinks we’re local government,” Major expertly relays the information in his mic without making an audible sound. “They’ll surround the perimeter.”

  Talon sends a message on the handheld, alerting the others to get ready. Ford catches my eye and tugs on his ear. I listen closely and pick up the ticks and clicks of the typing now in a pattern. Immediately, I make out the Morse code and start deciphering the message.

  This has always been my area.

  Two men, three o’clock and nine. Two covering my family in back. Armed.

  As the words come together, I convey them using hand signals. Talon and Ford take off toward the back, and Major silently communicates with me he’s got the lead-in. I nod and wait.

  “We’ve got eyes on the wife and kids. Going to flush them out,” Ford mutters in our ear.

  A few seconds later, the unmistakable explosion of the flash bang echoes through the house followed by four shots.

  The Spanish begins again, and this time, I recognize a few words. He’s threatening our man while yelling at his cohort to find out what’s happening.

  That’s all we need. Major crouches, raises his gun, and edges in.

  Both men spot us at the same time, aiming our way.

  We take our shots and they go down.

  “Bayer?” The man’s been worked over. Black eyes, lips split, dried blood on his temple.

  “Kingston and Powers.” I point between Major and myself.

  “My family?” He winces, a dribble of blood pooling at the corner of his mouth.

  “All clear!” Talon yells from the back of the house.

  “Let’s get you to them.”

  “Hold on.” Bayer twists back to the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He then slams the laptop shut and shoves it under his arm, standing. “You have a piece I can borrow?”

  “We need to worry about anything?”

  “Nope, but I want to shoot that motherfucker that touched my wife and kids.”

  My lips twist as I hand over my pistol, jerking my head to the hallway. “We’re headed out the tunnel.”

  “Tell your men to get my family out. We’re coming.”

  “Move out. We have Bayer, and we’re right behind.”

  “Roger that,” Talon whistles in the mic.

  Bayer takes the lead this time. When we pass the bedroom, he veers in, and two gunshots ring out.

  “This is my kind of guy.” Major voices his approval.

  Bayer returns. Even with his features swollen and bruised, it’s easy to see his satisfaction. “Wasn’t the kill shot, but it’ll do.”

  “Let’s roll.” I move to the open doorway off the hall and motion for Bayer to go down first. Ford announces in our ear that they’re out and teams are surrounding the perimeter. “Your family is out safely.”

  “We’ve got company,” Talon warns in our ear.

  The three of us move, Major and I keeping our guard up, edging down the stairs and the hall backward with our eyes alert. Shouts from the men get louder when they find their friends dead.

  “As soon as you asses care to join us, they’re ready to go. On the double would be nice,” Ford tells us unnecessarily. Asshole has the nerve to sound bored. We’re all aware of the plan to ambush and capture any remaining kidnappers for interrogation.

  “About twenty yards and they can have it,” I mutter.

  Right as the words leave my mouth, the door at my side slams open, and three men burst out, firing frantically. I duck and roll, shooting as I go, knowing Major’s doing the same.

  “What the fuck is happening?” Talon roars.

  “They’re coming in from the tunnel! Taking fire now!” Major barks while firing and taking one down with a bullet to the chest.

  “Bayer—get out of here!” I order, firing and hitting my target.

  “Fuck that shit,” Bayer raises up, aims, and shoots directly into one of their temples.

  “All down!” Major announces, still in position.

  “Get the fuck out here,” comes from a voice I don’t recognize.

  “Are there other access points?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Watch that shit.” I do a scan over my shoulder. “We have three more doors before we hit the exit.”

  Together, the three of us form a circle, moving cautiously.

  It’s quiet, almost too quiet, and I’m listening for any kind of sign. We’re almost to our destination when Major stops. The next few seconds are tense before he shoves me to the side.

  “Kingston—get down!”

  The force of his body sets me off-balance, and I lose my footing, stumbling back. Everything goes in slow motion. A blast shakes the building at the same time the last door flies open and more men file out.

  Plaster and dust fall around us, and bullets soar through the space. The air is thick, but I fire back, ignoring the searing pain in my arm and thigh.

  There’s another shove, and Major’s in front of me, taking the brunt of the gunfire. He jolts back and my heart stops, knowing he’s been hit.

  “Goddamn motherfucker!” I aim and fire furious
ly, wrapping my arm around my brother. “Hit! Major’s hit!”

  I’m pulled from the back. Bayer may be a communications expert, but he’s a trained fighter. Regardless of being in civilian clothes with no bodily protection, he’s shooting over my shoulder until the gunfire stops.

  “We’re there, Marine,” rings in my ear.

  I position myself, slinging Major’s arm over my shoulder and hauling him out of the tunnel. As soon as the fresh air hits, we’re surrounded. Talon slides into my side, taking my weight, while Ford does the same on the other side of Major. We drag him to the waiting vehicle.

  The van roars to life and we’re moving, bouncing roughly over rocks.

  “Major, man, you with us?”

  His response is a weak mumble.

  “Shit, get us some light back here,” Ford orders.

  Light bathes the space, and my eyes roam over him.

  “Here let me look.” A harried but attractive woman sidles close. I recognize her from her picture as Ada Bayer. “I’m a nurse practitioner in the ER and pretty skilled with gunshot wounds.”

  “Your husband may need your attention. He’s been beaten hard.”

  “He’s good.”

  My attention goes past her to where Bayer’s two kids are clutching tight to him. His arms are circled protectively, shielding them from what’s happening.

  We give her some space as she presses her fingers to his neck and leans to his mouth. “Breathing shallow and heart rate erratic. Most likely, his adrenaline is carrying him. Do you know where he was shot?”

  Ford takes Major’s weapons, and Talon makes quick work of removing his protective gear. Each of us conducts our own assessment. Blood oozes from under his armpit. I point to it, lifting his arm.

  This time, he groans.

  Ada gently skims her hand along his back and side. “I don’t feel a point of exit. The bullet is likely inside his chest cavity somewhere.”

  The pain in my thigh radiates, spots filling my vision.

  Major’s eyes open and dart around, focusing on me. “We get them?” comes out hoarse and ragged.

  “Bet your ass.”

  “Everyone good?”

  “Yeah, and you will be soon.”

  The spots return, and I sway forward, dropping his arm.

  “Kingston?” Ford dips into my line of sight.

  I shake off the dizziness. “Good.”

  “Where’s all the blood coming from?” He jostles my legs, and I fall backward, the pain firing up my spine and down to my feet.

  “Jesus, fuck, fuck, fuck! Ace is hit. Looks like his thigh. He’s in a pool of blood. Too much blood for a leg wound.”

  Bodies shuffle all around me. Someone cuts the material from my pants, and a tourniquet is secured around my upper leg. Ada’s fingers press into my throat, her concerned eyes holding mine. Without her saying it, I know the bullet nicked an artery.

  My eyelids grow heavy, and I suck in a deep breath. A rough hand closes around mine as the guys shout.

  My mind clears, and for the first time in days, I let myself drift to Harley.

  Then it’s black.

  26

  Harley

  I’m in shock.

  That’s the only explanation for what’s happening right now. Goosebumps pop on my skin at the same time a violent quake rocks through my body. Achilles’ face fills my head right before little dots take over my vision. The weight of my head becomes too much, and it falls into my hands.

  Jewls curls around me, her tears soaking through my shirt. “We should call Rich.”

  A whimper escapes as my stomach rolls. “Harley, take a deep breath. I’ll make the call if it’s easier. Or maybe we could ask Finn to—”

  “No, I’ll do it. Dad needs to hear it from me.”

  Before I can dial Dad’s number, an incoming text buzzes from Finn.

  We’re in the driveway when you’re ready.

  Even in my grief and worry, my heart flips. “They came. Finn and Max are here.”

  “It’s two-thirty in the morning and it’s snowing.”

  I don’t know Finn well and don’t know Max at all. But those two men don’t give a shit about the time or the weather. They’re worried, and this is their style.

  “We need to let them in.”

  She releases me and moves to her suitcase, slipping a hoodie over her flannel pajamas. I go to the bathroom and flinch at my reflection. My skin is pale with splotches snaking down my neck, eyes are bloodshot, and lips swollen and chewed. My hand goes to the wall for the set of hand towels that hang there, and I freeze.

  Bright aqua.

  Not white, or grey, but a shade of blue I thought Achilles would agree to.

  They were meant to be a Christmas present, and lead into telling him my plans for our bedroom scheme in the new house. But I couldn’t put them under the tree. They gave me a sense of comfort by being in here where I see them every morning.

  Jewls walks in and takes in my struggle. She lifts the towel, wets it, and presses it to my neck and cheeks. “How about some tea?”

  “That would be great. Not sure my stomach can handle coffee.”

  “What can I get you?”

  “Achilles’ black sweatshirt on the closet shelf.”

  She purses her lips, her eyes glassing over, and kisses my forehead quickly. “Wash your face.”

  I do as she says, brushing my teeth, too, even though I wasn’t sleeping when Finn called a half-hour ago. It makes me feel a little more put together.

  The cold water does a little to help, although misery remains clear on my features. It is what it is. Jewls tosses me the sweatshirt, and I slip it on as we go toward the main room. She veers off in the kitchen while I turn off the alarm and switch on the outside lights, opening the door.

  There’s a second of shock when I see Presley standing there flanked by Finn and Max. She pounces, embracing me tightly, and I melt into her, smelling the fresh scent of baby powder. My insides shake, but I don’t let myself break down.

  “Pres? You want to move her inside, or should I lift you both and haul you inside the house?”

  “Max, you pick up my wife, I’ll level you.”

  At Finn’s reply, an unfamiliar feeling of hilarity creeps in, and I giggle into her shoulder. She shuffles us back while muttering, “Men are so stupid.”

  At this, I openly laugh, pulling back to look at her. “Achilles threatened Talon once when he offered to lift me off the sofa.”

  The memory crashes into me of that day and night. The flowers, the apology, the lunch, swimming, falling asleep on Achilles’ chest… that kiss.

  It wasn’t just a kiss… it was THE kiss.

  The kiss that started it all.

  The memory is too much, and to my horror, my laughter turns into a wail. My knees give out, and before I crumble, two strong arms circle me from behind, getting me to the sofa and holding me close. Loud sobs rack my body, and I cling to Max with all I have, pouring my unthinkable fears into his chest.

  There’s no telling how long he holds me like this, but eventually, my sobs die down to quiet cries and sniffles. I swipe at my cheeks, my skin hot and clammy against my fingertips. A wad of tissues is shoved into my hands.

  “Thanks.” I take them gratefully.

  “Harley, drink some tea. It’s cooled.”

  I take the mug from Jewls and swallow a large gulp, hoping it will soothe my throat, instantly realizing my mistake. Tears spring to my eyes—this time because of the potent taste of whiskey. I choke and sputter, gasping like a fool.

  “What the hell?”

  “My fault.” Presley grimaces. “I told her it needed a little spike.”

  “Little?” I cock an eyebrow at Jewls.

  “Don’t give me that look. You’re exaggerating. Next time, don’t chug.”

  I take a much smaller sip and try to push back the awkwardness of my breakdown in the arms of a basic stranger.

  Presley’s hand squeezes my knee. “Don’t do th
at, Harley. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  My nerves start to settle at the gentle sincerity in her tone. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what are y’all doing here?”

  “You needed to be surrounded by friends,” she says warmly.

  “What about your kids? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “My brother and niece were already spending the night. They are with them.”

  Then it hits me, what tomorrow is—Christmas Eve.

  An hour ago, I hoped that Achilles and the guys would walk through the door. Now, even a miracle won’t make it happen.

  “Have they informed the families yet?” I glance between Finn and Max.

  Max gives a quick jerk of his head. “Not yet, but it won’t be long.”

  “I need to call my dad. He’ll know what to do.”

  “How about you call your dad and let Finn talk to him?” Presley suggests.

  I nod, dialing. He answers on the second ring, fully alert and worried. “Harley?”

  “Daddy,” my voice cracks, and I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

  “Amanda, get dressed!” he bellows, and my mom’s own whimper echoes through the line.

  “Daddy, there’s been an accident. Finn’s here and will tell you what we know.”

  Finn takes the phone gently, his blue eyes loaded with sympathy and understanding. He goes to the middle of the room, Max joining him.

  I listen intently as he relays the same news from earlier.

  “Max got a call from a contact who knew he was interested in any information that may come in related to this team. Achilles’ crew was involved in a rescue and recovery mission. The details are minimal, but after their original mission, a Marine and his family were kidnapped…”

  My stomach rolls when Finn’s eyes slice to me and he delivers the worst of the news.

  “Kingston and Powers were shot. Help was en route to get them from a remote location. Reports on their status are unknown.”

  Jewls and Presley sandwich me between them, forming a protective ball.

  “Right, we’ll be here. See you then.” Finn hands me back my phone. “Rich is notifying the other fathers and putting Jim Powers on notice. Then he’ll be here.”