“Exfil Bravo, copy that.”
The original plan had been for Babs to land the contracted UH-60 military helicopter to extract the hostages and most of the team in the large lawn area behind the main house. Now they were going to have to figure out how to schlep the women a half mile through the jungle, in the cold rain and darkness, to reach a second area large enough for the big bird. To top it off, the women were poorly dressed for the foul weather and terrain.
“Romeo, Costello, you’re going to have to come in through the mud room—he hadn’t known what else to call it so that’s what they’d been calling it throughout the mission. The entrance to the stairs for the dungeon is off that to the right.” While they’d been studying the floor plans of the estate and satellite photos of the grounds for weeks now, he wanted to make sure they were all on the same page. “Most of the guards are in the bunkhouse for the night. I’ll take care of Carlos. There should be two others on the perimeter, but they tend to be slackers. The weather probably drove them to take cover.”
The only other guard they’d have to worry about until the alarm was raised was the one in the shack at the front gate. With any luck, he’d be snoring away or distracted by boredom, but he wasn’t Darius’s problem. His team would take the guard out, quickly and quietly.
“Boss-man, how much time do you think we have before the tangos attack?”
“According to the guy we interrogated, you’ve got twenty minutes max.”
Fuck!
12
It didn’t take long for Darius to ambush Carlos, put him in a headlock until he lost consciousness, zip-tie his hands behind his back, and then hide him in the mud room’s closet. He was just closing the closet door when Romeo and Costello—both dressed in black and heavily armed—joined him inside the house. Aside from the storm outside, everything else seemed eerily quiet, but that wasn’t going to last for long. Romeo handed Darius a black bulletproof vest. With the large amounts of ammo the cartels had available to them, every little bit of protection helped. He quickly pulled the heavy body armor over his head and secured it tightly against his torso using the Velcro straps.
Taking the lead, Darius grabbed the bulky cell door key from where it hung by the door to the converted basement, then descended the stairs, with his two teammates on his six. As usual, as soon as they heard someone approaching and the lights went on, many of the women retreated to the back of their cells, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Darius now understood why all too well. He’d had no idea Secada had been raping some of the women, but he’d make sure the man suffered for it if it was the last thing he ever did.
While Romeo manned the door to the stairs, Darius stopped in front of the first cell that held two young women. When he inserted the key into the lock, they both whimpered, their eyes widening in fear. Knowing there wasn’t much he could say that would reassure them he was one of the good guys, Darius glanced at Costello. “They’ll be more comfortable with you talking to them.”
She nodded then addressed the women. “We’re from the United States, and we’re getting you out of here, but you have to stay quiet and do what we say, okay?”
As Darius worked quickly to open the other cells, he could tell the women recognized him as one of the men who’d held them captive. They weren’t about to trust him as far as they could throw him, but he had to, at least, try to put their minds at ease. “I was undercover and was never going to let them sell you.”
When he reached the last cell, his hand froze an inch away from sliding the key in the lock. “Where’s Princess Tahira?”
The younger woman, Nala, burst into tears, her body trembling forcibly. Her cousin, Lahana, slowly got to her feet. Her face, arms, torso, and legs were covered in bruises, some deeper than others. Darius fought to keep the rage those bruises inspired off his face, as she answered him. “That bastard took her. He’s going to rape her, just like he did to me and some of the others.”
Her voice was stronger than he’d expected. Whereas some of the women were timid and fearful, the others seemed to find their strength in the presence of their rescuers.
“Where?” Darius asked, although if he had to guess, the son of a bitch had taken Tahira to his suite.
Lahana shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere upstairs.”
A young blonde who’d stepped out of her now open cell, touched his arm, getting his attention. “He drugs them before he assaults them. You have to save her.”
That was a given. “How long ago did he take her?”
Sorrow filled her pretty blue eyes. “Long enough.”
“Shit.” He spoke into his watch. “Boss-man?”
“Go,” Ian replied.
“Her Highness is upstairs, probably on the second floor.” He left out the fact she was most likely in Secada’s suite. “I’m going after her.” Ignoring the other man’s string of curses, Darius turned to Costello, who had finished coaxing the rest of the women from their cells. “Get them out of here; I’ll get Tahira.”
“I’ll go with you,” the female sniper said with fire in her eyes.
Darius had never seen her so pissed and almost said yes just to see her unleash a shit-ton of fury on Secada’s ass. Instead, he shook his head and started for the stairs. “No. Romeo can’t take care of all of them by himself; especially with the chance of a crossfire. Get them out of here. I’ll get Tahira and head for the exfil.”
Knowing he was right, Costello immediately but reluctantly agreed. “Fine, but if you run into trouble, you better holler.”
“Will do.”
Leaving his teammates to do what they did best, Darius took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the first floor, he pulled his 9mm handgun from its holster on his hip. While the AK-47 on his back had more firepower, he had more control and accuracy with the pistol. Sweeping it back and forth in front of him, looking for targets, he quickly made his way to the second floor, then paused to listen for any movement beyond the doorway. To give himself a better range of motion, he quickly removed the heavy jacket he’d been wearing for guard duty and left it at the top of the stairs. It would be restrictive in a fight. The moment he stepped into the hall, there was a clap of thunder, followed by the reports of assault rifles and cursing coming through his comms unit. If he hadn’t had the unit in his ear, he wouldn’t have heard the shots over the loud storm, but it was clear all hell had broken loose. Shit.
Taking a left, he stealthily approached Secada’s suite, while listening for anyone else moving about the house. It was highly unlikely any of the guards would make their way into the house with all the gunfire outside, but the mission had already gone FUBAR. And Darius had a feeling it was about to get worse, if that was at all possible.
With his weapon up and ready to fire, he gently tried the doorknob. No sense in kicking it in if it was already unlocked. The knob turned with his hand. Taking a steadying breath, Darius shoved the door open, stepped inside, and scanned the room, the muzzle of his gun always aimed in the same direction as his gaze. His heart and stomach sank. Tahira was unconscious and naked on the big bed, her legs splayed open, a nasty bruise on her face, and her hair in disarray. Semen and blood painted the insides of her thighs and the sheet between them. He was too late.
But she was alone.
Movement to his left had Darius pivoting but not fast enough. Wearing only pants, Secada dove out the open bathroom doorway and tackled him. The two men tumbled to the floor, with Darius landing on his back with the AK-47 between him and the floor. His breath was knocked out of him as his handgun went flying across the room. Secada smashed his fist into Darius’s face. He would feel the pain later, but Darius was running on adrenaline and rage. He blocked the next punch before it made contact. Grabbing the back of Secada’s skull, Darius pulled him closer and head-butted him. Taking advantage of the stars the other man had to be seeing, Darius flipped him over and reversed their positions, but Secada recovered fast. They struggled, each trying to get the upper hand. Da
rius was surprised at the other man’s strength, but the cartel lieutenant was no match for the retired Navy SEAL. Two jabs to the bastard’s nose broke it, then sent the shards up into his brain.
Panting, Darius relaxed back on his heels, Secada’s dead eyes staring up at him. “I hope you went straight to hell, asshole.”
He stood and didn’t give the other man a second thought as he rushed over to the bed. Tahira was still unconscious—probably from whatever drug Secada had given her, since the bruise on her face didn’t seem bad enough to have knocked her out. Grabbing a blanket from where it’d been tossed to the side, Darius gently wrapped her abused body up in it, then picked her up in his arms. He had to get her out of there quickly but decided to take a moment to afford her some decency and warmth.
Swiftly carrying her out into the hallway, he headed for Diaz’s master bedroom, snatching his own jacket from the top of the backstairs. The drug czar’s widow was about Tahira’s size and was about to donate some clothes. He paused inside the suite, looking for a place to put her down—definitely not on the bed with the dead drug lord. There was a sitting area in front of an unlit gas fireplace across the room, and Darius laid the unconscious woman down on a chaise lounge.
He tenderly brushed a few strands of hair from her face, rage filling him when he got a better look at the swollen bruise on her cheek. Three small, oval discolorations along her right jaw and one on her left were just the right size to be made by fingertips, and Darius was tempted to go back to Secada’s room and cut the fucker’s dick off and shove it down his throat. Two reasons prevented him from doing so: Secada wouldn’t feel a thing, and Darius was in a hurry. He didn’t even have time to clean Tahira up, though he was afraid if he did, she’d be mortified when she realized he’d done so. Would that be worse than needing to clean herself? He didn’t know.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get there fast enough, Princess,” he murmured, guilt plaguing his gut.
Hesitant to leave her for even a moment, Darius forced himself to find some clothing for her. Entering the suite’s walk-in closet, he selected a pair of designer, dark-green, velour sweatpants, a long-sleeved, black knit shirt, and a deep eggplant-colored, zip-up sweater. None of it matched, but fashion wasn’t a concern right now.
Next, he found some black socks, sneakers, and a warm parka, just in case. He’d be carrying her the half mile to the exfil site, but it might take longer than planned, and he wanted to reduce the risk of her getting hypothermia between the rain and cold temperatures if those plans changed. The blanket would have to do for now. It was dark blue and would keep her from being lit up like a Christmas tree if the beam of a flashlight hit her. Even a bolt of lightning would reflect white or light-colored fabric.
Finding a duffel bag on a shelf at the back of the closet, he stuffed the garments and shoes into it. There wasn’t enough time to dress her now, but he’d take care of it as soon as he could. And since everything had already going to shit on this mission, he wanted to have clothes for her in case they ran into another snafu.
As he bent down to pick her up again, an explosion rocked the house under his feet, and Darius’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck?”
It was then Darius realized he didn’t hear any of the team chatter. His hand flew to his ear. At some point, probably in the fight with Secada, Darius had lost his earpiece. There was no time to go back and look for it. He glanced at his wrist and felt a small measure of relief. While he wouldn’t be able to hear what his teammates were saying, they could still hear him.
Leaving Tahira, Darius hurried over to one of the windows and peaked out through the blinds.
Shit.
It was a war zone out there. Bright bursts of light indicated bullets being discharged from three directions. The bodies of several of the cartel’s thugs lay where they’d been hit as they’d exited the bunkhouse. A fire was burning near the house below Diaz’s bedroom, and a second explosion shook the house again. Someone had something stronger than handguns and rifles out there, and it wasn’t coming from his own team. Double shit!
It would be impossible for Darius to cross the property into the wooded area that would eventually lead him to the Bravo exfil site, while carrying Tahira. In fact, even without her, it would still be too risky. That meant he had to come up with a plan C. What else was new? During his SEAL and Trident missions, things weren’t truly FUBAR until at least a plan D or even E was needed.
“Batman to Lead One,” he said, holding his wrist to his mouth. He paused for a moment, listening for a response before his brain kicked in, reminding him his earpiece was gone. “Batman to Lead One or Tampa Base. I’ve lost my comms. If you can hear me, I have the princess. Can’t make it to Exfil Bravo. Will head to Rendezvous Oscar. Repeat, I have the princess, and we’re heading to Rendezvous Oscar for exfil.”
Hopefully, Ian and the others had heard him and would know he’d be taking Tahira to the orphanage, where Sister Patrice would be able to hide them, if necessary, until the team could get them out of there safely. The orphanage was about ten miles through mostly thick woods, which would give them cover in case they encountered any bad guys along the way. A ten-mile hike was not a problem for Darius, but the storm and Tahira’s unconsciousness would slow him down. It was a toss-up if things would be a little easier had she been awake and able to run, but this wouldn’t be the first time Darius had needed to exit a mission in a hurry while carrying someone.
Lifting the strap of the duffel bag over his head, he hung it from his shoulder, across his chest. He then adjusted the sling of his AK-47 and brought the weapon around to his right hip. Next, Darius pushed a button on his watch which would give him an open connection to his team without interfering with their transmissions. If things went further down the rabbit hole, at least they’d be able to hear him.
“Stop fucking jinxing yourself, you idiot,” he muttered.
Turning back to Tahira, he quickly lifted her up and placed her over his left shoulder. It was a far cry from being a dignified way to carry a member of royalty, but fuck protocol. He needed at least one hand free to open doors and shoot if he had to. After making certain she was balanced correctly and wouldn’t slip if he had to make any sudden moves, he hurried to the door leading to the hallway. After a quick check that nobody was out there, he opened the door all the way and stepped out. There was a sunroom downstairs at the opposite side of the house with reinforced French doors leading to the large flower and shrubbery garden Diaz’s wife loved to enjoy. It would provide Darius with some cover until he was able to sprint across the manicured lawn to a small gate in the stone wall surrounding the property. From there, it was only two or three hundred feet before they’d reach the tree line that would provide a moderate measure of safety as they trekked through the woods.
Descending the stairs with one hand on the back of Tahira’s thighs and the other holding his rifle ready, Darius could hear the gun battle again. The explosions must have blown out a few of the first-floor windows. As he reached the foyer, the front door flew open and two men with guns didn’t wait to see if there was an enemy within sight. Their expressions of surprise were met with a hail of bullets from Darius’s gun. The men never had a chance to fire their own weapons before death dug its greedy claws into them as they dropped to the floor.
Without hesitation, Darius moved quickly down a small hallway that led to the sunroom. With the glass walls and ceiling now surrounding them, it would really suck if one of those grenades or rockets someone was using came too close. Darius and Tahira would be cut to ribbons. The torrential rains pounded against the glass, as if a thousand horses were in a stampede. It was almost deafening, but not enough to block out the thunder and continuing gunfire which seemed to still be coming from the other side of the property. Hopefully, that meant all the tangos were too busy to notice the retired SEAL carrying an unconscious woman.
Trying the handle of the door leading to the garden, he was relieved to find it unlocked. Peering through the darkness
of the night, he didn’t see anyone who might be in his way. Just to the left of the door was some equipment that must have been left by the gardener. A small, black tarp covered a portion of the pile. Darius grabbed it and hastily covered Tahira with it. The water-proof material would keep her dry until he could find them a defendable shelter for a few hours to wait out the worst of the storm.
After Darius reaffirmed Tahira was settled securely on his shoulder, he took a deep breath and darted out into the downpour.
13
The pelting raindrops stung his face and hands, as Darius made his way through the garden, not giving a shit about all the colorful blooms he smashed with his feet along the way. He was grateful he’d covered Tahira with the tarp, since he’d been soaked within seconds of leaving the confines of the mansion, and the horrors it held, behind.
Tahira.
Darius forced his hand holding the AK-47 not to clench in rage. He’d failed her. The beautiful woman he was carrying had been violated in a way no one should ever have to endure. Darius wished he could kill Secada over and over again until the bastard had suffered enough for what he’d done. His mind flitted to the night he’d surprised her in the kitchen at Clearwater Beach estate. That was the real woman he’d met that night. Not the princess the public saw. Not the spoiled brat he’d dealt with on prior details. She’d been real that night. No makeup, no designer clothes, no sign of a privileged life most people could only dream of. When she’d smiled at him before returning to her bedroom, he’d felt it all the way to his toes. He remembered thinking later that it was too bad they came from two different worlds—he would have liked to get to know her better and maybe take her on a date. But Tahira would always be in the spotlight, surrounded by the chaos that came with being a crown princess, while Darius was the furthest thing from royalty one could get.
Forty Days & One Knight: Trident Security Omega Team Book 2 Page 8