“She can’t here you, Mikie. She’s gone inside herself. She doesn’t even know she’s speaking aloud. It’s the exhaustion mixed with the shock. Just give me a second,” Matthew replied as he ran back into the house.
Michael held on tighter to her, as she continued talking in gibberish.
“Only caffeine isn’t going to fix this, is it? The love of my life is missing. Is he hurt? I bet he’s hungry. He could eat and eat. I hope he packed a blanket. Depending on where he’s at, it’s winter, did you know? I’ve read it can get bitterly cold in some of those places. Oh, God, do they even know where to look for him? Someone has to find him.”
So many questions spilled forward, and before she could control all the emotions, she was hyperventilating.
“Mattie,” Michael yelled urgently, grabbing her before she fell to the ground.
“Got it right here,” she heard a husky voice say, and then she felt a light pinprick. Calmness seeped into her veins, and when she wanted to scream and shout, nothing came, only the tears, and then even those stopped as the darkness came.
Chapter Eleven
The same day in a location unknown…
“Come on, Mason. Don’t do this to me!” Fish shouted at him as he stuck another needle into his best friend’s leg. He had already given him one shot of adrenaline, and still nothing. “Really, asshole, you pick now to go into cardiac arrest?”
Throwing his medical bag aside, Fish started administering CPR. He really didn’t need this shit. It had taken them nine days to dig their way out of that hellhole, and for what? He had a bum leg, and Mason had been shot. Fish didn’t know where the rest of the team was, or if they were still alive, but the one thing he did know was that bitch was dead. He had seen to that himself, and when he got back stateside, he was going to put a bullet in that fat general’s head. He didn’t give a shit what happened after that.
The fat fuck was a dead man walking.
“Damn it, Mason, I swear, if you don’t pull your shit together, when we get back home, I will tell Rachael and your brothers what a pussy you are. Then I’m gonna go find that nice little honey you’ve been seeing, and I’m gonna marry her. I’m gonna fill her belly with my little fish. I swear I will! Do you hear me?” he shouted, as he continued CPR.
* * * *
Mason lay there unconscious and bleeding, and all he could think about was her, his Annabelle. He could smell her sweet scent, hear her laughter, and feel her soft, gentle touch. She was everywhere around him. However, he knew it wasn’t real. Because when he was with her, there was no pain, and he was in tremendous pain. As much as he wanted to give into the pain, he remembered how it all happened. He remembered why he was there, on the ground, with a gunshot in his leg and not breathing.
He remembered everything.
They had spent the first week and a half in briefing after briefing, until they got the word that the mission was a go. The moment they touched down, they were given their new orders before they headed out. The General had given them forty-eight hours to find, capture, or kill their target and make it back to the rendezvous spot. After that, they were going to be left on their own. How they got to their destination was up to them. They knew the area better than anyone did, and they decided to go it alone, knowing damn well that they couldn’t trust anyone, even the sniveling little shit tagging along for the ride.
Making their way through the peaceful green valley, they tried to remember what it had been like the last time they were in the area. Of course, last time they had landed it had been the rainy season, and they were all thankful for the dry weather. They could still smell the coffee plants, as the air was thick with the aroma.
Mason tried very hard not to let his mind wander back to that particular time, because the outcome then was what he was trying to avoid now. He may have a lot of pent-up frustration and downright hatred toward Adam Little, but for the time being he was once again a member of his team, and Mason was not bringing another team member home in a body bag.
No, all of them were getting to that rendezvous point intact, come hell or high water.
They had just made it to the first ridge when they heard the echo reverberate. Mason knew that sound. It was very distinctive of a high-powered rifle shot. Holding his hand up, Mason stopped his team instantly. The supersonic crack of the bullet let everyone behind it know it had passed.
Looking down into the town at the far end of the valley, they watched as a man fell to the ground, blood gushing from his head. He was dead before he hit the ground. Across the valley, another shot rang out. In the town, a civilian was thrown from his vehicle by the impact of the bullet. Militant soldiers in the town scrambled for cover and huddled behind anything they could, taking aim and firing in the direction of the shot.
Someone unknown had infiltrated the town.
Mason looked back at Gunny. “Guess we’re not the only ones vacationing this time of year.”
“Damn tourists,” Gunny muttered, as he started walking again.
“Wonder who decided to join the party?” Fish asked, looking directly at Adam.
“What? I don’t know who they are,” the weasel replied.
“Uh huh, and I’m Santa Claus,” Bird said, pushing past Adam. “Mason, can we just get the job done and get the fuck out of here? I don’t like that we have company.”
“Bird’s right, Cap,” Talkie added. “According to Intel, it was just supposed to be us. I don’t like this.”
Mason was about to reply when shouting alerted him and his team that something was happening in the valley. Dropping to the ground, Mason and his team belly crawled just above the ridge and watched.
A militant commander walked out of his headquarters and looked around at all his men cowering behind walls, vehicles, and other cover. He shook his head and shouted in anger as he motioned with his fist at the hills. The next second, his head disappeared in a shower of blood as it exploded from the impact of another bullet.
“Holy fuck,” Gunny whispered. “I want that gun for Christmas, Cap. Can I have it, please?”
“Shut it,” Mason growled as he continued to watch the scene unfold.
Two men closest to the militant commander vomited at the sight of their headless leader as he slowly fell backward. The rest of the soldiers threw down their weapons and stood up with their hands above their heads in surrender. They stood like that for over an hour, waiting for the shooter to show himself.
“Where the fuck is he?” Talkie whispered. Just then, two black Humvees rolled into town, separating three squads of militant soldiers and gathering the prisoners together in the corral by the barn. It was then that Mason and his team saw who had joined the party. Cursing silently, Mason and the members of his team turned and looked at Adam Little, who had the good graces to cower.
“I swear I didn’t know,” the little shit whined, backing away.
“Can I kill him now?” Fish asked.
“Later,” Mason growled, slowly backing away from the ridge. “Moving to plan B.”
“What? We can’t,” Adam spoke up quickly. “Mason, there is no plan B, only plan A.”
“And he is supposed to be the smart one. You owe me fifty bucks, Fish.” Gunny grinned and stood with his back to the valley. Mason smiled as he listened to two of his best friends bicker about the rules of the bet.
“I don’t owe you shit. I said that Little would know all the players, and he does. That fucktard is lying, and I can prove it,” Fish stated.
“You can’t touch him. That was rule number three.” Gunny smiled.
“Fine, but we said nothing about a flesh wound. I can graze him, and get the information out of him. Is that okay?” Fish asked, taking aim at the weasel.
“Hey!” Adam shouted.
“Dude, shut the fuck up. Are you trying to get us all—”
Mason looked up smiling, waiting for Gunny to finish what he was about to say, just as a bullet screamed its torment as it streaked through the air. The impact was swi
ft and horrifying as the head it hit was shattered by the speed.
Mason’s world narrowed and slowed as Fish ran to Gunny’s side, but Mason knew there was nothing he could do. His best friend was gone. Slowly looking to his right, he saw that Adam Little, the bastard who had caused this mess, sent another bullet screaming through the air, imparting its momentum into the sniper’s own scope, through the lens, to the eye and into brain.
“That’s for Gunny, you son of bitch,” Adam whispered as he slowly moved away from the ridge.
Cursing, Mason grabbed Little and shouted as he headed for the tree line, “Move!”
Mason could hear each heart beat resonate through his head as he tried his best to control his breathing. With beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face, he relaxed as much as he could. This mission was now over. Plan C was to get the fuck out of Dodge and screw the powers that be. They weren’t here, and they didn’t just lose a friend. No man was worth this shit. As far as Mason was concerned, Julio Montequilla was a free man, until he died of old age or some poor bastard got a lucky shot.
He didn’t give a shit anymore. All he cared about was getting on the next plane and going home. Nobody needed this shit. There were too many players on this vacation, and he had already lost a team member who should have been sitting on his front porch drinking a beer and singing to his dog. Instead, he and his team were headed to a funeral.
“Fuck this,” Mason growled as the rest of what remained of his team double-timed it to get out of range of any other sniper that might be in the vicinity. “We’re going to plan C.”
“Agreed,” Talkie concurred.
“I’m with ya, Cap,” Bird stated.
“I should kill you where you stand, you fucker.” Fish seethed as he rounded on Adam. Mason was not in the mood for another killing, even if the dead man walking was Adam. Jumping in front of the little weasel, Mason held firm.
“You can kill him later. Right now we need to get the fuck out of here, and Adam is going to tell us who else is in the area, so we can get home safely.”
Sighing, the team watched as Adam turned white, running his hand through his disheveled hair. Something was up, and they knew the weasel was deciding on whether to tell them or not. The only problem with that conclusion was that Mason wasn’t giving him the chance to decide. Grabbing his side arm, Mason flicked off the safety and pointed the barrel of his Glock against the temple of Adam’s head. “Does this help with your decision, asshole?”
“Perfectly,” Adam responded quickly, then started talking. “When we captured Montequilla the first time, we fucked up. The woman, the one we saw in the clearing that day, was not Montequilla’s wife. She lied to us, and we put her into protective custody. Well, that woman was the mission. Montequilla was a decoy. I found out later that someone on the Joint Chief’s Counsel in our federal government wanted her. She had information that they needed. They knew she was living at the compound, and had been seen with Montequilla. The problem was, Intel thought it was Montequilla who ran the organization. But, it was the girl. It was her, and when I found out, I started asking questions. Montequilla, the one we thought was the target, is the only son of the Prime Minister of this country, and his father wants revenge. The woman, that bitch we let go, well, she turned state’s evidence and is living the high life on our tax dollars, still running her organization from within the confines of the United States. We were all duped. We were all lied to. We are not here to capture Montequilla. I am here to kill that bitch.”
“And let me guess, Montequilla’s daddy knows we’re here, and is going to hit us with everything he’s got because of what we did to his little boy?” Fish asked.
“Yeah, and those men in the town, the ones in black, well, before we landed, I received new intel that the Prime Minister hired mercenaries to kill us. Since the Prime Minister controls this country’s military, it doesn’t matter what we do, because there is a bounty on our heads. We’re fucked. We’re the scapegoats in a massive clusterfuck.”
“And with us gone, the Prime Minister is happy, and gets his revenge,” Talkie stated.
“What about the real target? What about her, the Drug Lord?” Mason asked.
“Oh, that’s the best news of all. We still get to kill her, if we can find her,” Adam said drearily.
“What do you mean, if we can find her?” Rich asked.
“Intel lost her three months ago. Nobody has any idea where she’s at,” Adam informed them all.
“So, we were sent here as an apology from our federal government?” Talkie asked.
“Yes,” Adam confirmed. “Our government believes that the death of seven military soldiers is a small price to pay for what could possibly be a massive international incident, if word ever got out that the United States government fucked up when it captured and held without proof an innocent victim.”
“Nice, didn’t know they cared so much,” Fish grumbled sarcastically as he checked his weapons.
As Mason listened to his team discuss what they wanted to do, all he could think about was getting home to his family and to Annabelle. He had to get his team out of this country before they were all killed. He had made a promise and he intended to keep it, and nothing was going to stop him. His mind was working overtime. Gunny was dead, and there was no way he was leaving his body behind, which meant they were carrying him home. Mason knew Gunny would have done the same for him.
“What we need is someone who doesn’t give a fuck about rules, regulations, or government policy and who can move heaven and earth to get us the fuck out of here,” Talkie stated.
“Sure, buddy, I like the sound of that, but no one like that exists. There is always an agenda with these people,” Rich added.
“Rich is right, Talkie. Who do we know that has no problem telling the government, any government for that matter, to go fuck themselves and has the balls to back that up?” Bird asked.
Mason grinned. “I know someone. Fish, let me use your phone,” Mason reached for the cell phone when Fish handed it to him. Dialing the only number he could think of at the moment, he made the call. The waiting was killing him, and when the phone went to voice mail, he sighed and dialed the number again until it picked up.
“Hey, it’s me. I need your help.”
Mason had just handed the phone back to Fish when he heard the all too familiar noise of an RPG. Grabbing what gear he could, he quickly hauled Gunny’s body into a firefighter’s carry and made for the deep forest. It was going to be their only shot until the cavalry arrived. Until then, they needed a place to bunk for the night.
Running as fast as he could, he moved in and out of trees and brush, retreating deeper into the forest. He hated the jungle, hated everything about it. The last time he was in this region, the skies opened and cried for days, and he thought he would never be dry again. Now, it felt as if the bowels of hell were open. The sticky heat had him sweating buckets instantly. The mosquitoes hovered like a thick, black, buzzing blanket, but it was the stench. At first, he thought it was the coffee, but now, he realized he was wrong. What he smelled was not the fresh-brewed coffee bean, but a mask, for something else.
“Are you guys smelling this?” Mason paused, halting his team.
“Uh, is that what I think it is?” Adam asked, and quickly covered his mouth.
“Ah, I knew I felt like I was home.” Bird smiled.
“You crazy fuck. Is that marijuana?” Fish asked, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief.
When Bird grinned and took a deep breath, Mason knew exactly what it was.
“Oh yeah, baby, that is some grade-A prime Mary Jane we’re smelling. Man, my brothers would have a field day with that shit, and my uncles now that I think about it,” Bird informed them all and then continued. “Did you know that the cannabis plant is a flowering plant? Mainly indigenous to Central Asia, and South Asia, it is also grown in Central America and in South America. Cannabis is used for fibre, or hemp. It’s also good for seed and se
ed oils, medicinal purposes, and as a recreational drug.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Bill Nye, for that enthralling science lesson. Now shut the fuck up and get us the hell out of here!” Fish shouted.
Mason couldn’t agree more. The smell was making him sick to his stomach. How Bird could stand to be around the stuff he didn’t know, but if he didn’t get them the hell out of the breeze, Mason was going to hurl.
“Follow me, boys, let me take you on a magic carpet ride,” Bird said, whistling while leading the way. By sun down, they had made camp near a small village about thirty miles south of the hostiles they had encountered. It wasn’t far, but his team was exhausted and needed to rest. No longer the young pups that they once had been, Mason was surprised they were still standing. They were tired, but still moveable, and that was all that mattered. With all the fighting parties within a hundred-mile radius, the goal was to get as far away from the line of fire as quickly as possible. Of course, Mason wasn’t going to be happy until he was thirty thousand feet in the air and headed for Texas. Until then he was on guard and chose to take the first lookout.
The sun had set and the stars were shining brightly through the trees. His men were asleep before he took his position, and all was quiet. Well, at least it was for now. Alone, with his thoughts, his mind wandered back to her, his Annabelle and her sweet, loving nature.
Chapter Twelve
Surrounded by the women in their lives, the Armstrong brothers all sat in the living room, silently. They weren’t stupid. They knew when the women banded together there was nothing any one of them could do but sit and nod. It was safe that way. That is if they still wanted to breathe on their own. Therefore, when the smallest of the women stepped forward, they shut their mouths and prepared to nod in agreement.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you have to do, you bring him home now!” she shouted at them. “I mean it. I don’t know what Mason has told you about me, but trust me when I say you do not want to piss me off. I want him home now.”
A Soldier's Promise [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 17