“It would make things a hell of a lot easier if we could get in without waking up every damn guard in the place. Plus, we don’t want Carlos hurrying out some secret tunnel if he hears us.” Mason comes up alongside Connor, but his attention is on me. His lips part a fraction as his eyes narrow.
“No.” Connor shakes his head, and I’m not sure what is going on between the two right now. He faces Mason and squares his hands on his hips.
“It’s the best solution to our problem,” Mason says.
“I had her come with us to babysit her, not to use her as bait.”
“Bait?” I stand, my hands fisting at my sides as I interpret the sudden silent face-off between the two.
“It’d work,” Computer Guy says while looking at me.
“She goes to the front entrance, gets the guards’ attention, and they open up for her.” Mason goes to the computer screen. “We’ll have two snipers positioned here and here. They’ll take out the guards, she’ll run back to the truck, and then our team will get in with a lot less noise than the alternative way.”
Connor curses under his breath and scratches at his chin. “You can say no.”
“If it means getting inside, why wouldn’t I agree?” But my heart skips into my throat at the idea I’ll be putting myself directly in harm’s way. It’s one thing to talk big about what I’d be willing to do—it’s another to actually do it.
“You’re sure?” Connor’s jaw tightens.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Let’s do this then.” Connor grabs a bulletproof vest off the bench. “I can’t give you one. It’d obviously raise suspicion with the guards.”
“I get it.” Just breathe.
“There are two men posted inside the main entrance, and then it looks like two in the back, and one on each side of the compound walking back and forth.” Computer Guy touches the center of the image on screen. “As for the three main areas, which we believe to be living quarters, we’ve got about twenty people. Minimal movement, so it looks like they’re sleeping.”
“Twenty-six in total.” Connor straps the vest on. “Some of those bodies could be captives, so look alive, people, and don’t shoot unless there’s no other choice.”
Mason points to the guys I nicknamed Three and Five. “You’re on sniper duty. We’ll green-light the rest of you to come, once the two front guards have been immobilized.” He motions to One and Four. “You guys take the sides and the guards in the back.”
Number Four nods as he begins to pack weapons into the various compartments of his vest and cargo pants.
My heartbeat kicks up higher and higher as I think about my role in all of this.
Connor grips my shoulder, and I focus on the black-gloved hand there. I’m unable to look up at him, afraid he’ll see the fear in my eyes. “You can change your mind.”
“No.” A quiver darts down my body, and I hope he doesn’t feel the shudders in my shoulder.
“Okay,” he drags the word out, as if still not convinced. “You got us on comms?”
Computer Guy makes an okay sign with his hand.
Everything is happening lightning fast.
Within a few minutes, I’m outside the truck, shaking my hands loose at my sides to try and release some tension.
“We’re going to hang back and out of your line of sight, but we’ll be here, don’t worry. It’s a half a mile, straight ahead.” Connor hands me a cell phone and positions on his night vision goggles. “Use the light to keep on the path.”
I take the phone, the flashlight app already switched on, and I point it at the dirt walkway.
I can do this.
I survived the McCullens for ten years. I can survive this.
“Turn it off once you see the compound walls,” he says and squeezes my forearm. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
The knots in my stomach twist even more, and I release a breath. “Daughter or son?”
“What?”
“Which do you have?”
I hold the light up to see his face, and he shifts the goggles up. “Daughter.” He smiles.
“Okay.” My hand shakes, and I lower the light. “You’ll get back to her when this is over. We’ll all be okay.”
“We’ll all be okay,” he repeats, and I listen to his words in my head over and over as I walk.
Then that voice becomes Cade’s.
And when I tuck the light away and reach for the buzzer on the cement wall outside the mammoth dark wooden door, which looks like it belongs in medieval times, I remember my mother’s eyes, her smile.
I remember why I’m here.
The taken ones.
I close my eyes as the door scrapes against the dirt and opens inward to the compound.
And I keep my eyes closed when I hear two bodies slam down by my feet.
The gunshots were quieter than the sounds of the fallen men.
I spin around to see the team on approach, moving in like a team of soldiers. “Go back.” It’s Connor’s voice, even though they all look the same in their combat clothes.
I force my feet to move, and I run in the direction of the truck.
My body jolts and my heels dig into the ground at the sudden blare of a siren wailing behind me.
No . . .
I twist around and look back at the compound in the distance.
What if Carlos gets away?
I can’t let any more people die because of me. I can’t hide anymore while everyone else makes sacrifices.
And so, I go back.
I can barely find breath inside of me as I reach the door and kneel down by one of the dead guards.
I take his holstered weapon and remove the safety, thankful for once that I know my way around guns.
My nostrils flare.
My adrenaline spikes.
I press my back against the wall and move along it, trying to stay hidden in the shadows.
The sirens stop. Someone must’ve killed them, but it’s too late. Our presence is known.
The sound of gunfire is all around, and yet, I don’t see anyone. They must be inside the buildings, about twenty yards away from me.
I hold the gun tight in my right hand and nearly trip over a body on the ground.
It’s a guard, thank God.
But my mind is focused on only one thing: prisoners. Does Carlos have anyone hidden here? If so, where would they be?
My mind is spinning, and more gunshots have my shoulders flinching as I move to walk through the open courtyard toward the sound of guns blaring within the buildings.
The popping of bullets slows as I edge around one side of a building.
I suck in a sharp breath when something—someone—grabs me from behind.
“No!” My arm is knocked down, the gun wrangled free from my hand.
My weapon smacks against the ground, and I cry in panic and twist from side to side, trying to get free.
The man’s breath is at my ear as he grips me even tighter, putting too much pressure on my ribs.
He starts pulling me with him as he moves backward.
I continue to struggle, even trying to sink my teeth into his arm, but he’s too strong.
I can’t let him take me. I can’t be this man’s insurance plan to try and escape, because I’m sure that’s what’s going through his mind.
My shoe heels create a line in the dirt as he drags me, his grip a bit looser since he’s trying to move us. If I can’t get away, at least I can make a trail to our location.
Then I remember I have a voice, and so I scream as loud as my lungs and vocal cords will allow.
But we’re nearing the exit, and I’m running out of time.
I dig my nails into his arm, clawing at him like a captured animal.
The night at the hotel when Cade taught me defense moves is a garbled mess in my mind.
Fear cradles my body in a tight cocoon, making it hard to remember what to do.
And then, like that, he stops.
/> His hands leave my body—for a second.
Then, one massive, calloused hand cups the base of my throat. My chin juts up high as I jerk my head from side to side. My eyes squeeze tight, and little black dots dance up and down before me.
“Release her.”
A deep, powerful voice booms through the air, and I know that voice . . .
I’m losing my mind.
But then the deep, husky voice yells, “Let. Her. Go.”
“I’ll snap her neck,” the man hisses over my shoulder, locking his other hand around my waist.
“No, you won’t. You’re not ready to die, are you?”
It has to be him, but it doesn’t make sense. And then I realize that my eyes are still closed and all I have to do is open them. But what if I’m hallucinating? What if he’s not really here?
Cade or no Cade—I need to get out of this.
I stop struggling for a minute. I need to concentrate, to focus.
And when I’m brave enough to open my eyes, I find Cade standing beneath a lamppost twenty feet away, the light casting a shadow over his face.
Having him rescue me is the stuff of fairy tales, not for women like me.
But here he is, holding a gun, and I’m damn sure he’s prepared to use it.
He’ll need my help if I’m going to get away unscathed. With a renewed sense of confidence, I telegraph the moves in my mind, knowing what I need to do now.
“I’ll let her go once I’m safe,” the guy says before cursing in Portuguese.
“Not gonna happen.” Cade steps out of the shadow, his eyes narrowed right on me, and he gives the slightest head nod that this asshole holding me probably doesn’t notice.
He’s signaling me to make my move.
I think about the hell I’ve endured.
And then I think about the man standing before me, who came here for me . . .
I slam my heel into the man’s boot, drop my weight, and twist my body to the side as fast as possible.
I collapse to the ground in a crouched position at the sound of gunfire echoing through my ears like a never-ending bell.
I scramble to all fours and look over at the body on the ground.
He’s still alive. Why didn’t Cade kill him?
The man’s grabbing hold of his arm and cursing.
I flinch at the feel of Cade’s hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I squeeze every emotion down my throat, the thickness making it hard to swallow. “Yeah,” I whisper, then watch as he straddles the man and reels his arm back, knocking the guy hard in the face with the butt of his gun.
I lean back on my knees and stare at the now unconscious man. My hand flies to my mouth when I realize it’s Carlos Perozo.
Cade kept him alive because he recognized him.
“You might need him for information.” He stands and tucks the gun in the back of his pants, as if he’s made for this life, as if shooting a human trafficker is a typical day of the week.
He’s at my side now, his arm extended, but I’m still too stunned to take his hand.
I release a long, thankful breath and finally allow him to pull me up.
He holds on to my forearms for a moment, probably wanting to both hug me and yell at me.
Before I can open my mouth to apologize, there’s a parade of cuffed men heading out of the main quarters. There are only about eight guys, so I have to assume the rest are dead.
“There weren’t any captives here,” Mason says as he approaches. “But we got the files.”
“I take it this is Cade,” Connor says casually, as if he’s not too surprised, then he kneels beside Carlos. He flips his body over and slaps cuffs onto his wrists. “And why are you inside the compound?”
He’s not asking Cade. No, he’s directing his question to me.
I pull back from Cade’s grasp and stand at his side, not sure what to do or say.
I wipe my dirty palms on my jeans, buying time to explain why I stupidly rushed into danger like one of the women in a horror film who should know better.
But my body goes stiff a moment later.
I can feel it in my bones.
I can feel him.
I reach behind Cade as fast as possible, grab the gun from his pants, and lock my arms in front of me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
My dad’s in the compound with a gun in his hand, and he’s walking toward us.
“Put the gun down.” Cade’s command has me looking over my shoulder at him, the sudden sense of betrayal causing confusion to swirl around inside of me.
Did Cade bring him to me?
No, he wouldn’t.
“He had my back when I was trying to get you free from Carlos. He was waiting to make a move, in case I needed the support.” Cade rests a hand over the one that’s holding the gun, but I can’t lower my arm.
Hell, no.
“I won’t go back to New York.” My hands tremble. My body shakes.
It doesn’t dawn on me until a few seconds later what Cade even said. He’s working with my dad? What the ever-loving fuck?
“Leave,” I yell.
“Listen, I think we’re all a little tense here, so why don’t we finish up what we started and work this out afterward.” Connor stands in front of the barrel of my gun, trying to serve as the voice of reason.
“I’m not here to take you back.”
Connor’s tall frame blocks my father from my sight, but his words penetrate through the air, as hard as ever.
“Give me the gun.” Cade lifts his hand from mine and opens his palm. “Now.”
23
Gia
My fingertips dig into my thighs as the truck moves over the bumpy road, heading toward the hotel where Connor plans to drop me off. He wants to get out of Brazil as fast as possible in case Carlos has any government friends who might try and stop him from bringing Carlos out of the country.
My dad is sitting opposite me, with the back of his head against the wall and his eyes closed. His cheeks are hollow, and his skin is weathered, with age spots smudged into splotchy patches beneath his eyes.
He’s getting old. When did that happen?
We still haven’t spoken since I turned the gun over to Cade.
I haven’t talked to anyone, in fact.
I keep running through everything that happened in my mind, trying to digest it all.
My scalp prickles and goose bumps bloom over my skin at the feel of Cade’s eyes on me.
Our eyes connect, and his Adam’s apple moves in his bronzed throat.
Slow and steady breaths, his chest lifts and falls, and I can’t stop looking at him, even when he rips his attention away.
If someone had injected me with a steroid, I wouldn’t be surprised, because I feel like I’m on something. Unstoppable.
Maybe tonight didn’t go quite as planned, but we came out on top with no one hurt, and that’s what matters.
“You okay?” Mason sits next to me. “We can drop these guys off at the hotel, and you can come with us.”
As much as I want to take Mason up on his offer, for my dad, at least, I know I need to deal with this situation on my own. I can’t run forever, and that’s what would happen if I stay in this truck and leave Brazil tonight.
“No, I’m good.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
I close my eyes, and my stomach wrenches as I remember the feel of Carlos’s hands on me and the sound of Cade firing a gun shortly after.
I would have loved to see that man die, but Connor may need to pump him for more information. And, just as importantly, I wouldn’t want Cade becoming a murderer because of me.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” I say as we near the hotel.
“For what?” Mason asks.
I clutch the bench on each side of my thighs. “For running into the compound.”
He nudges me in the side. “Hey, I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”
I fo
rce a quick, closed-lip smile. “Thanks.”
Connor pulls my attention away from his brother when he hollers, “We’re here.”
I have to face my father now, and I’m not sure how to do that.
Dad heads to the exit without even making eye contact, which suits me fine.
“You ready?” Cade’s gravelly tone makes me wonder how pissed off he is at me.
Maybe my father forced him to come? That would make the most sense. Then again, could anyone force Cade into doing something he didn’t want to do?
“Yeah, I guess,” I murmur, placing my hand inside his warm one, and I almost shut my eyes at the feel of his touch.
My knees wobble as I stand, but once I’m upright, he lets go of my hand.
“Let’s go see Mya. She’s probably worried about you.” His fingertips splay against the small of my back as we walk to the exit.
He hops out first and holds both arms up in the air, offering to lift me down.
I take a hesitant step back, staring down at him as he waits for me.
“Gia.” For the first time, I hear something different in his tone when he says my name. It’s like a plea, and it catches me off guard.
It takes me a moment, but I crouch down and press my hands to his shoulders and he lowers me.
My lungs contract. I try to remember to breathe.
I can’t seem to drop my hands from him, and he’s not in a rush to let go of me either.
Someone from behind fakes a cough, and so I stumble back out of Cade’s arms and face Connor and a few of his men.
Connor points to the other truck that was following us, the one with Carlos and his guards packed inside. “Once we get those assholes to safer ground, we’ll take a look at the files. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“My mother’s name is Sara Oliveira.” I know Mya told him, but I need to look into his eyes when I say it. I need to believe Connor will do everything in his power to find her.
Connor and Cade exchange a look. It’s dark outside, despite a few lampposts off in the distance near the hotel, so I can’t get a read on whatever unspoken message is passing between the two of them.
“We’ll call. Don’t worry.” Mason pats my shoulder and offers me a half-smile like he’s trying to reassure me without setting me up for disappointment. Maybe they don’t think they’ll find her, but they don’t know how strong my mother is . . .
My Every Breath Page 19