“What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?” she shot back, not impressed or intimidated.
Wolf grinned in spite of himself. “Wolf.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Is that really your name?”
“No, but I like it better than my real name. Which is Dean, by the way.”
“Dean.” She paused for a moment. Then she thrust out her hand. “I’m Haylee. Pleased to meet you.”
He took her hand in spite of the silliness of such formality out here in the jungle. A sizzle of something electric rolled through him at her touch. “You always so polite in dangerous situations?”
She sucked in a breath and stared steadily back at him. “I don’t know. This is my first kidnapping.”
The team rushed in from the dark corners of the camp. Haylee dropped his hand and quickly tied her shirt beneath her breasts so it would stay closed. She wouldn’t look at him now and he wondered if she was embarrassed that he’d seen her like that. He hadn’t let his gaze drop below her chin on purpose, other than that quick assessment for injuries. The fucker who’d attacked her had ripped the buttons off when he’d jerked it open, exposing her white lacy bra. Haylee pressed herself against the wall, her gaze flicking uncertainly over his teammates. He didn’t know why that made him feel protective, but it did.
“Hello, ma’am,” Saint said. “How many are inside?”
“Ten,” she replied.
Saint frowned. “So there are eleven of you?” He motioned to the men behind him and they hurried inside to retrieve the other hostages.
“Yes.”
“We were told there were ten with the mission trip.”
Haylee’s tongue darted over her lips. “I’m not with the mission. I’m, uh, a tourist.”
There was something in her tone that caught Wolf’s attention. If Saint noticed, he didn’t comment.
“We weren’t aware you were here,” Saint replied. “Was there anybody else with you when you were taken?”
“No, just me.” She shrugged and reached up to push her hair behind her ears. She projected an air of bravery, but Wolf could see her fingers trembling. She was still processing everything and trying not to fall apart over it. He admired her strength. But he wondered what the hell she was doing here if she wasn’t with the Alabama mission. Had she come alone? Why?
His teammates came rushing out of the building with the hostages. They were a sorry sight, disheveled and dirty and more than a little bit scared. Four men and six women. One of the men had an arm in a sling, but otherwise they seemed in decent enough shape except for some bruises and cuts.
“We ready?” Saint asked.
“Ready,” Easy replied.
“Wolf,” Saint said.
Wolf took over the explanation about what was happening. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re getting you out of here. We’ll divide up into the boats the cartel used and take you downriver to the rendezvous point.”
One of the women whimpered.
“Don’t worry, you’re with US soldiers now and we aren’t letting anything happen to you. We’re getting you out of here, ma’am.”
The woman nodded. Haylee hadn’t moved from her spot against the wall, though she watched him intently.
“It won’t take more than a couple of hours and then you’ll be on a helicopter and on your way home. We’ve got you, don’t worry.”
“Let’s move out,” Saint said.
Echo Squad hustled the hostages out of the village and toward the river half a mile away. They knew the cartel had boats because they’d been on the satellite photos. And the boats had still been there a couple of hours ago, according to HQ, so that was the plan. If they reached the river and the boats were gone, they’d move on to Plan B. That one involved a swim across crocodile infested waters and a trek over mountainous territory. Wolf hoped that wasn’t the option they had to take.
Wolf and his teammates fanned out to surround the hostages. They had to stay on alert, looking for any other cartel members who might show up. The ones they’d encountered in the camp were only the tip of the iceberg. Wolf slipped his night vision goggles into place and held his rifle at the ready as they started to move.
Bodies lay strewn across the ground, the light from fires illuminating sweat-soaked clothing and dark pools of blood that seeped into the ground. Most of the hostages turned away. A couple of the women cried. Not Haylee. If anything, she stood taller when they passed the bodies on the ground, as if giving them one last fuck you.
Once they were out of the camp and into the darkness, they pressed the hostages to move faster. It wasn’t easygoing in the dark. The hostages stumbled over the jungle floor. Sometimes they fell. Wolf was right behind Haylee when she tripped, a little cry escaping her as she started to fall.
He caught her around the waist, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her backward. She landed with an oof against his chest.
“Sorry,” he said as he let her go again.
“No, no. It’s okay. Thank you.” Her voice was soft and breathy and he wondered what it would sound like if he tugged her against him in different circumstances.
No, don’t go there.
“Where are you from?” she asked as they started to walk again.
“Iowa,” he said, and then wondered why he’d said it. She wasn’t asking where he hailed from, she was asking where he’d deployed from. And he wasn’t obligated to answer her questions anyway.
“What base is in Iowa?”
He decided to be obtuse. “That’s where I’m from. That’s what you asked.”
“Oh—no, I meant where is your team from?”
“Not important, Haylee. Where are you from?”
“You mean where did I grow up or where do I live?”
“Both, actually.”
“I’m from Mississippi originally. But I live in DC—ouch, dammit, I can’t see a thing. Can’t we have some light?”
“Unfortunately, no. Your eyes should adjust.”
“Why aren’t you tripping over these roots?”
“Night vision goggles.”
“Oh. Got any extras?”
It sounded like she was joking—but before he could reply, a caravan of engines revved to life in the camp behind them. Men’s voices reached them, shouting in Spanish. Someone fired a weapon.
Shit.
Reinforcements had arrived. This mission just got harder.
Chapter Two
Haylee clamped down on the inside of her lip so she wouldn’t scream. She’d been doing her best to hold it together for the past couple of days. Tonight, when that disgusting guard had jerked her from the dank room she’d shared with the others and dragged her outside, she’d known it was all over.
He’d been planning to rape her. He probably wouldn’t have killed her, because the people she’d been with kept talking about ransom, but he wouldn’t have made it easy for her either. She’d have been torn and broken from his assault—and she was sure she’d have wanted to die after that. No matter what she’d promised Nicole about getting her story out there and helping others.
But the man standing so near now—the big man in an assault suit with a helmet, a rifle, and goggles that meant he could see like a cat in the darkness—had materialized out of the night and saved her. Perhaps luck was still with her after all.
She was tired and hungry and achy, but she was also filled with hope for the first time in three days. Her computer was gone, her notes, everything she’d brought with her to Mexico, but it was in her brain. She could recreate it—and she would. For Nicole and for others who were desperate for relief.
Provided she got out of here alive, she amended. There were gunshots coming from the camp and the shouting was growing louder.
The military commandos suddenly launched into action. One second she was staring back in the direction they’d come and the next Wolf dropped in front of her. Haylee barely had time to squeak before he lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder.
&
nbsp; He sprinted through the jungle like a cat while she dangled in the air. It was a shock to realize he moved much faster carrying her than she’d been going on her own. She clung to him, her body bouncing as he ran, her teeth jarring with the impact of his booted feet on the jungle floor. She wanted to insist she could do it herself, but that was a lie. Her life depended on letting him do his job. He reached the edge of the water much faster than she thought he would—she could tell by the sudden smell of fish and rotting vegetation that’s where they were—and plopped her down.
Some of the other women were there too. The commandos—what else could they be?—had snatched them up and ran to the boats all at once. Haylee blinked. The moon emerged from behind a cloud bank, shafting light down onto the ribbon of water. Two boats sat at anchor. For a drug cartel, they certainly weren’t fancy. Stripped down tin can fishing boats. Because gleaming cabin cruisers would be too attention-getting out here in the deep jungle.
Two of Wolf’s teammates leaped onboard the boats and started helping people climb onto the deck.
“Get on the boat, Haylee,” Wolf ordered as he turned away.
“Wait,” she called. Because she was grateful to him and she didn’t want him to go away without saying thank you. She hadn’t done that yet.
“What?”
“Thank you, Dean. Thank you for saving me.” If she was honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason she’d called him back. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she was drawn to him. He made her feel safe. She hadn’t missed that he’d kept his eyes on hers back there, when her shirt was torn open and her skin was exposed. It had been so sweet. So unusual. Men stared. They ogled. They made comments.
Wolf had not. Though maybe he wasn’t attracted to her? She didn’t like the way that thought pricked her pride. Though of course it was possible. She wasn’t a beauty in the classic sense. She wasn’t blonde and perky. Not like Nicole had been.
His teeth flashed in the darkness. “You bet, babe.”
Before she could respond to the fact he’d called her babe, he was running back the way he’d come. She didn’t know if he was fetching more of the hostages or if he’d gone back to fight. Either way, she hoped he’d return soon. She climbed onto the fishing boat, trying not to gag at the smell, and listened hard in the darkness for the sounds of gunfire. More men emerged from the jungle then, carrying the remaining hostages. And then they all scrambled onto the boats.
She searched for Wolf among them. It was hard to distinguish who was who when they wore helmets and assault suits and painted their skin with greasepaint to avoid being seen. The boats powered up and started inching down the river. Rancid fish assailed her nostrils and she pressed a hand to her mouth so she wouldn’t gag. She leaned her head over the side, trying to gulp in fresh air, but the river wasn’t much better. It had a smell all its own.
“You can barf over the side if you need to.”
Haylee looked up—right into Wolf’s sparkling eyes. They were blue. Or maybe gray. But they were definitely piercing. Not that she could see their precise color right now. She remembered they were light, however, from the moment he’d dropped her attacker in a heap on the ground and asked if she was okay. The camp lights had illuminated pale eyes in a grease-painted face, and they’d seared themselves into her memory.
“I’m trying not to,” she told him.
He sank onto the bench beside her, bracing his rifle in his lap. Ready to take aim and fire if need be. “Don’t hold it in if you really gotta. Trust me.”
The boats powered up a little bit faster now, the wind rushing across their bodies and pulling the smell of fish with it. Haylee slowly lowered her hand. “I think I’m all right.”
“That’s good.”
She strained to hear any noise from the jungle, but the only sounds were night sounds. The camp sounds had faded. Still, she didn’t feel entirely safe just yet. She’d come so far and gotten so little. Frustration hammered into her in spite of the danger of the situation. If she’d just been able to get a small piece of the information she’d been looking for, maybe all of this would be worth it.
“So how’d you get here, Haylee? You weren’t on our list.”
She wasn’t sure she should tell this stranger what she’d really been seeking. “I, uh, I was on vacation.”
“Kinda far from the usual tourist locations.”
Her skin heated. He wasn’t stupid, this man. “I like the road less traveled.”
“Robert Frost. Two roads diverged in a wood and I / I took the one less traveled by.”
A shiver skittered down her spine. Handsome and literate and able to quote poetry? Oh dear heaven. If only Nicole were here. She’d laugh. Haylee’s heart ached. “Keep a book of Frost in your locker at the base, do you?”
He laughed. “No. My mom’s an English teacher—or was. She retired last year. I know more lines of great literature than I should probably admit.”
“Wow, so’s mine. We could have a quotes war.”
“No shit?” He laughed, and she liked the way the sound warmed her.
She nodded. “My mom teaches creative writing at the local community college.”
“Mine taught AP English classes to high school juniors and seniors.”
“So I bet you’ve read your fair share of the classics.”
“A few.”
“Do you have a favorite?” She could hardly believe she was having this conversation, but at the same time maybe it was good to keep her mind off of what had almost happened to her tonight. The more she thought about it, the shakier she got.
“To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“Good one,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap. “One of my favorites, too.”
He was silent for a moment. The boat chugged and the water splashed as they glided down the river. “So how about you tell me what you came here to see, Haylee.”
“Mayan ruins,” she said without hesitation.
“How did you get grabbed?”
“I paid someone to take me to a site I’d heard about. They kidnapped me instead.” She shrugged. “I ended up in a cell with these people.”
It was mostly true. Except for the Mayan ruins. She’d been paying someone all right. She’d learned at Nicole’s funeral that her death was actually caused by fake opioids. Nicole’s mom had told her that. Haylee hadn’t even been sure what fake opioids were, so she’d researched it. She knew more now than she cared to know, and it was disgusting.
Fakes were pills made with ingredients from China, pressed by Mexican cartels in the jungle and smuggled into the US where they were sold to people desperate to feel better. The pills that had killed Nicole contained a high degree of fentanyl, in addition to a bunch of stuff that wasn’t even legal to give to humans. Nicole died because she’d fallen off the wagon and taken pills that weren’t what they appeared to be. Where she got them, Haylee still didn’t know. But she would never get over Nicole’s death, and she would never stop trying to find out where the drugs had come from.
It had taken her months to track down a lead. She’d come to Mexico and she’d paid someone who said they could put her in touch with a person who knew where the fake opioids were being made, as well as how they were being funneled into the US. Once she knew that, she could expose the pipeline and cut off the supply. Maybe it was like trying to kill cockroaches—there were always more—but at least she could make a difference in one small corner of the world.
“You know,” Wolf said softly, cutting into her thoughts, “The truth is easier to keep up with. When you make stuff up, you can’t always remember who you told what.”
Haylee’s heart flipped. How did he know? And what did it matter anyway? He was one of the good guys, not one of these cartel scum who cared more about money than people. She could tell him the truth. Or some of it, anyway. She made a decision—and the words tumbled out.
“Okay. Did you know that the opioid epidemic in the US is getting worse, not better? That people get hurt and then the
y get addicted to pain pills because it’s the only way they can function? They lose their jobs, their families, everything that matters. But they can’t stop using, and when their doctors cut them off, they buy pills on the street. Pills that are sometimes fake and filled with harmful substances, because nobody gives a shit about addicts. Some of those pills come from Mexican cartels. And what they do to a human body is something you don’t want to know.”
Stroke, sepsis, multiple organ failure. If Nicole had had a slightly smaller dose, she’d probably still be alive. But she’d been a small woman and the drugs had overwhelmed her body.
Wolf seemed very quiet. And angry somehow. Well so was she, dammit. Angry and sick over what had happened to Nicole. To those like her. Good people who’d taken the drugs they’d been prescribed for procedures in good faith. And then found out they couldn’t live without them when it was time to stop. Needing those drugs to feel alive was what put them on the road to disaster.
“Jesus,” he said. “You traveled to Mexico to hunt down a drug cartel—and do what? Ask them questions? Or something more?”
Oh, he was perceptive. Too perceptive.
“I wasn’t trying to question the cartel. Or get revenge.” Not that it wouldn’t have been nice to do so, but who was responsible and how the hell did she take revenge on them? She was one woman in a foreign country, not a team of military commandos like this one. Haylee shook her head. She’d charged into this trip with a lot of anger and conviction and not much thought about the potential complications. “I just wanted information.”
“Information. About a drug cartel.” He tilted his head and she knew he was thinking about something. “What do you do back home, Haylee?”
“I’m a reporter.” Not for a paper that could really make a difference with this story, though that was a bridge she’d cross when she got to it.
“A reporter. So what did you plan to do with this information you were trying to get?”
She clenched her hands into fists on her lap. “I planned to write about it. People need to know.”
HOT Justice: A Hostile Operations Team - Book 14 Page 2