Thresh: Alpha One Security: Book 2

by Jasinda Wilder

  “I’m sorry you got involved, Filipo.”

  Another shrug. “Yeah, well, nothing else to do but what we gotta do, huh?”

  “Guess so,” I said.

  I melted into the forest, sheathing my knife now that the element of surprise was gone. Using a UMP one-handed wasn’t my notion of ideal, but it was a far sight better than a 9mm, so I went with it. We crept parallel to the path, made it as far as the camp, but the other two were nowhere to be seen. I heard voices, though, two of them, speaking in low tones in a foreign language. They were up ahead, around a curve in the path, which I realized, in the light of day, led to the waterfall.

  We left the forest, making our way after the voices.

  I never saw it coming.

  One second the path was empty, the next it wasn’t. They swept out from either side of the path, UMPs blasting.

  Every once in a while, I’m granted a moment of pure unexplainable luck. Or maybe it’s fate or God or whoever, whatever, telling me my time here isn’t done. Those moments of luck are never free. The luck took me, then. I felt the rounds snap and buzz past my cheek, felt one pluck at the cotton of my shirt, felt another tag the denim of my jeans.

  They were less than fifty yards away, well inside the effective range of a UMP-45, especially if the shooter has training. They should have hit me. I should have died.

  For whatever reason, they missed me. I didn’t even have time to duck or dodge, they just…missed.

  Filipo didn’t get my luck.

  He took three rounds to the chest, smacksmacksmack, wet thunks hitting muscle and bone. Filipo stayed upright, leveled his shotgun, knocked one back with a blast, shredding his chest into wet red ribbons, and then he fell.

  Another blast of a UMP, and I felt the gun in my hand jerk and then was ripped out of my hands; more luck. That blast should have hit me, but the gun in my hands saved my life.

  But now I was out of options. He’d closed the distance between us, UMP leveled at me. “Where is she?”

  I just stared at him. No way I’d give her up.

  He stuck the gun barrel under my chin, the hot metal searing my flesh. “I’LL KILL HIM! COME OUT, BITCH!”

  “Why do you want her? She’s not even involved,” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Orders. Cain wants her. You’re protecting her, means she’s worth something to you. Means Cain wants her. Leverage, I think.”

  “Won’t work.”

  Another shrug. “We will see if it works. If not, I’ll kill you and be done with it. The bitch can rot out here for all I care.” He cast a glance at Filipo, who was writhing and gasping in the dirt. “So can he.”

  A few moments of silence, and then Lola appeared on the path, my Sig in her hand, held low at her side. “Let him go. You can have me.”

  A snicker. “Not how this goes. Drop it, or he dies.” He dug the gun barrel deeper into the soft flesh under my chin, which, let me say, didn’t feel too hot.

  Lola didn’t drop the gun. Instead, she lifted it, aimed it. “You can kill him. You’re probably going to anyway. So you shoot him, I’ll shoot you. No way you’re gonna get him and then me, not before I get you. Or, let him go and I’ll go with you, no fighting.”

  “Goddamn it, Lola,” I said, fear seizing me.

  This wasn’t happening.

  Shoot me. Torture me. Fuck, do anything, but leave her alone. I couldn’t say any of that, though, because he’d take it as a challenge.

  My captor gave that stupid snickering laugh again. “This bitch, she’s got balls, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I said. I met Lola’s steady stare. “Babe? Whatcha doin’?”

  She shrugged. “I figure you’ll come after me. No worries.”

  I couldn’t keep anger and fear out of my voice. “Yeah, but—”

  “Shut up.” The barrel jabbing into my jaw was an effective way to quiet me. “Fine. Count to three, I’ll lower mine, let him go, you lower yours and come with me.”

  Lola nodded. “Fine. One—”

  “Don’t do it, Lola,” I snarled. “These guys don’t keep promises.”

  “I do,” said the guy beside me.

  “Two—” Lola slowly began lowering the pistol crouching toward the ground as she did so.

  “Goddamn it.” I tensed, ready to move. “Lola, you can’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Panic had me by the throat, had me by the balls. I wasn’t about to let her go. Not with these guys. I’d already gotten Filipo killed, I wasn’t about to let Lola go too—

  But there was something in her eyes as she crouched, a warning? A plea, a meaningful look.

  “Three—”

  The next several seconds were a blur. I wasn’t even sure what happened until it was over.

  As soon as Lola said “three”, the gun in my chin was lowered, and he stepped toward Lola, reaching for her, for the gun she’d set on the ground. But she hadn’t stood up, she was still crouched low. And then there was a blur of something black hurtling through the air, and there was the wet squishing thud of metal slicing into flesh, and my erstwhile captor was staggering backward, Tai’s huge kukri buried to the hilt in his chest.

  He wasn’t dead, though, fumbling with his UMP, gasping, gagging, stumbling. He managed to squeeze the trigger, sending a spray of bullets into the ground at his feet.

  I lashed out with my good hand, snatching the UMP away; I plugged a single round through his forehead. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard, dead immediately. I leaned over, yanked the kukri free.

  Silence fell thick, like a blanket.

  And then Lola vomited, and Tai sagged against a tree trunk, staring at his hands as if he didn’t recognize them.

  Filipo was on the ground, blood pooling underneath him, eyes blinking rapidly, mouth working. He was gone, his body just hadn’t caught on to that fact quite yet.

  Tai lurched across the path, fell to his knees beside Filipo. “Uso…no, no, no.”

  I was still holding the kukri, blood on my hands, dripping off the point of the blade into the dirt. “I’m sorry, Tai. They ambushed us, I never…I didn’t see it coming.”

  Guilt. So fucking much guilt. Should’ve been me. Why did I get away clean and Filipo was dead? Not an unfamiliar feeling. Did a tour in Iraq, and another in Afghanistan, and I’ve had my share of squad mates go down around me. A bullet slices a couple inches one way, and it’s you dead, a couple inches the other, it’s your buddy. Why him and not you? That’s part of the guilt. The rest is the fact that I’m the professional here, I should’ve seen this coming, shouldn’t have let Filipo go with me, should’ve been more careful.

  Plus, none of this would be happening to these people if I hadn’t gotten Lola dragged into my bullshit.

  I knelt, wiped the kukri clean on the pants leg of the dead guy, setting it beside Tai. “I—” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, Tai.”

  He just nodded. “Filipo wasn’t one to stay behind. It’s not your fault.”

  “It is, though.” I retrieved the Sig from where Lola had set it down, replaced it in my holster.

  A shrug. “Maybe. What’s done is done.”

  I bent, hefted the messy bulk of the first corpse over my body, hauled it over to the tin boat, tossed him in. The second and third bodies joined the first, and Tai piloted us to a certain lagoon he knew of, where crocs and gators were known to congregate. We heaved the bodies over the side, one by one, and then gunned the motor away. I glanced back, and by the time we were a hundred yards away, the water was a churning, boiling, red-bubbling froth of gore as the scavenging reptiles made short work of an easy meal. Bonus: there was a very, very slim chance any part of those three would ever be found. Not that anyone would be looking except Cain, but still, three fewer loose ends to worry about all around.

  Tai and I returned to camp to find Lola still sitting by Filipo, staring into space, lost in thought.

  I knelt beside her as a helicopter’s rotors became audible in the distanc
e. I glanced up, even though the helo was far enough away still that I couldn’t see them. “That’s my people.” I glanced at Lola. “Time to make your choice, honey. Stay here with your dad, or come with me. You’ll probably be safe here for a while, but eventually Cain is going to send more, if he knows you’re here. I’m not sure how he’s tracking us, but if we’re here, or you’re here, this is just going to happen again. Coming with me is the most effective way to keep your dad safe and protect his privacy. But it’s your choice, babe.” There was so much else I wanted to say, but none of it really mattered in the moment; apologies were futile.

  She took her father’s hand. “I don’t want to leave you, Dad. Without Filipo…”

  Tai squatted in front of Lola and met her eyes. “You go. Come visit me when you can. I’ll be okay.”

  “No, you won’t. After you lost Mom—”

  “Enough, afafine. You’re going. You’ll be safer with him. Happier with him. What is there in Miami for you? Nothing. You can get a job at any hospital, anywhere. You don’t need me, and if I know you’re happy, that someone is taking care of you, I’ll be content. I’ll have the fish, the mangroves, my fale, my paopao. You know I’ll be fine.” Tai finally looked at me, sadness etched in his features. “Bring her back to see me, sometimes, yeah?”

  I nodded. “I will, I promise.”

  Tai closed his eyes, turned back to Filipo. “Go. Filipo is mine to bury.”

  Lola wrapped her arms around Tai’s neck, clinging to him for long, long minutes, sniffling. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, Lola. Now go.” He glanced at me again. “End it, Thresh. I don’t want any more unwelcome visitors.”

  I lifted my chin. “With extreme prejudice, Tai. I swear.”

  We took the tin boat, which I’d rinsed the blood out best I could. Tai poled us out of the inlet and into the main waterway, and by the time we got out to the main waterway, Harris was circling our general location in the helo. He spotted us pretty much right away, angled for us, flared into a hover a good hundred feet up. A cable with a sling was lowered to us, and I secured Lola first, tugged on the cable to signal, watched her twist as she was hauled up by the winch. I was next, but I didn’t bother securing myself entirely, just hooked a foot into a strap, stood up in it, and hung on with my good hand.

  I waved once at Tai, who held the pole aloft in farewell.

  16: NO MAN LEFT BEHIND

  The next several hours were a blur. The helicopter ride seemed interminable. Apart from the pilot, there was another man in the back of the helicopter with us, short and squat, stout. Barrel-chested, arms nearly as broad as Thresh’s, head shaved bald, sporting a massive black full beard braided into a thick queue, hanging down to his chest. He looked like nothing so much as the dwarf Dwalin from The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. And, yes, I know the names of the dwarves from the Hobbit.

  The helicopter landed, the two men exiting first, and then Thresh wrapped his arm around my waist and bodily lifted me down to the tarmac.

  I slapped at his chest. “I can walk.”

  He snorted. “You’re in shock, babe. You haven’t spoken a word in the last hour.”

  “What am I supposed to say? Filipo was family, and I’m leaving my dad, leaving Miami, leaving everything I’ve ever known. Not to mention, I’ve now personally witnessed you kill four men in less than twenty-four hours.”

  The bearded man shot Thresh a raised-eyebrow look. “That’s got to be an off-duty kill-count record.”

  “Shove it, Puck,” Thresh snarled, his voice low with venomous warning. “I’ll tell you later.”

  His name was Puck? Like the character from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream?

  Before I could remark on the man’s name, Thresh turned to me. “I’m sorry you’ve had to witness those things, Lola. If I’d known I was going to drag you into this, pull you through all this—” He sighed, obviously struggling with what to say. “I wish I could have spared you, if nothing else. I can’t make myself wish I’d never met you, though. I just can’t, as selfish as that is.”

  I leaned into him. “I don’t wish I’d never met you either, Thresh. But I hope you know a good therapist.”

  “When this is settled, I’ll find you the best there is, I swear,” Thresh answered.

  He guided me to a mobile staircase leading up into a small private jet, waiting until I was buckled into the window seat and then buckled himself in beside me.

  I glanced out my window and watched a tall, slender man exit the front of the helicopter, its rotors still slowing. He jogged toward the jet. A moment later he appeared in the doorway. He was on the upper end of average height, slim and lean and hard-looking in a way that reminded me of Thresh’s dagger. He had piercing green eyes, messy brown hair shot through at the temples with a little gray, a closely-trimmed beard, somewhere between stubble and a real beard. He exuded danger and confidence and authority.

  His eyes fixed on me. “Dr. Reed. Welcome.” He stepped toward me, extended his hand, which I took and shook automatically. “My name is Harris. We’ve met before, I believe.”

  I nodded. “Yes, you were my patient a year ago.”

  “Pleased to have you with us, although I’m sorry about the circumstances.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a little less than ideal.”

  Harris’s expression darkened, hardened. “For all of us. I still have one of my men missing, and even my two best assets can’t seem to find him. But, I assure you, we will be pursuing this with extreme prejudice.”

  “That’s what Thresh said, ‘extreme prejudice.’ What does that mean in normal people terms?”

  Harris didn’t answer right away, but eventually responded, “It means we’re going to go after these fuckers with everything we’ve got, and we’re not going to worry overmuch about pesky things like laws. It means we’re going in hard and fast and mean.”

  I nodded. “I can’t argue with that. They killed my uncle.” I choked up, because that was still more than fresh, so fresh I hadn’t really processed the fact that Filipo was dead. “Get them. And if you need a doctor, I’m your woman. Just get me some supplies.”

  Harris regarded me intently. “We can hide you somewhere until it’s over. I have a few strings to pull, but I can make sure you still have a job at the hospital when you’re ready to go back. You don’t have to throw in with us, Dr. Reed.”

  “Call me Lola,” I said, glancing at Thresh, who was watching me carefully, anticipating my answer but trying not to give too much away. “And I already have, Mr. Harris.”

  “It’s just Harris.” He clapped Thresh on the shoulder. “And if you ever need help wrangling this big stubborn son of a bitch, just call me.”

  I tried to smile, and only partially succeeded. “Once you get past his ‘I’m a badass’ façade, he’s really just a big teddy bear. But, thank you.”

  Harris gave me a skeptical expression. “Not sure I’ve ever seen that side of Thresh. But if you insist.” He paused for a moment, leaned into the cockpit, opened a cabinet, and produced a notepad and a pen, which he handed to me. “Why don’t you spend some time on the flight making a wish list of supplies you’d need to be well-stocked and ready for pretty much anything, and I’ll make some calls, see what I can get my hands on.”

  I just nodded. “All right.”

  Harris glanced at Thresh. “Talk to you in the cockpit?”

  Thresh heaved a sigh, hesitated, then leaned toward me, palmed my cheek with his paw, turned my face to mine. Kissed me long and deep and hard. “Back in a bit,” he murmured against my lips.

  “Okay,” I whispered, still dizzy from the force of the unexpected kiss.

  Then, when I saw the expressions on Harris’s and Puck’s faces…it all made sense. They were staring at Thresh like he’d grown a second head and was reciting Japanese poetry.

  Thresh preceded Harris into the cockpit, and then the door to the cockpit closed and I was alone with Puck, who had taken Thresh’s seat beside
me and was eyeing me with open curiosity.

  “Pardon my staring, sweet cheeks, but when you see the impossible done before breakfast, it tends to take a man by surprise.”

  “Don’t call me sweet cheeks, Dwalin. And what’s impossible?”

  “Dwalin, that’s a funny one,” he said, with a hearty guffaw, telling me he didn’t take any offense. He waved a hand at me, “Thresh…acting like a…shit, I don’t even know. Like Harris is with Layla. I’d’ve sworn Thresh was gonna die a bachelor, with a hot bitch on each arm, and another on his lap. Bitches love Thresh, and he don’t even try.”

  I eyed Puck. “Oh reeeeeally?” I drawled the word, drew it out.

  He affected an innocent expression, holding up both hands palms out. “Least, that’s how he used to be. Now he’s here with you at his side, and he’s kissing you like I ain’t ever seen him kiss anybody.”

  “And I bet you’ve seen that plenty?”

  He shrugged. “If you want to know how he used to be, you’d be better off talking to Duke—those two are inseparable. Wingmen, know what I mean?” Puck rubbed a finger along the leather stitching of the seat near his thigh. “’Course, Duke’s pretty-boy ass is AWOL at the moment, which isn’t doing us any favors.”

  I noticed Puck’s drawl seemed to come and go, and wasn’t really an accent so much as what I suspected was an affectation, probably meant to hide or disguise his intelligence. His eyes betrayed him, though. You couldn’t look Puck in the eyes and miss the cunning, the calculation. He was big, burly, with a beard any Hell’s Angel would be envious of, a half-sleeve tattoo on one arm from shoulder to elbow, but it was obvious he was far from stupid and didn’t miss a thing.

  “Are you worried about Duke, too?”

  “Everybody is. Duke doesn’t disappear. Anselm? Sure, dude’s a straight-up ghost. Even Lear has a tendency to go to ground for days on end, especially if he’s running a program or writing code. But Thresh and Duke? All you ever gotta do to find those two is follow the trail of broken hearts and empty bottles. And maybe a few bodies here and there. Those boys are rough. They ain’t hard to find, that’s my point. Gym, a dive bar, or the compound. That’s it. So for Duke to just…vanish? Not good.”