“Me, too. I’ll help out.” Evie nodded at the two.
Amy’s emotional roller coaster kicked in and tears pricked her eyes. She hastily wiped them back and said, “Thank you.”
“Now you start them waterworks girl and I’m gonna sit outside. Ain’t never been able to stand women’s tears.” C.W. stood and went to the kitchen, as if being close to Amy crying meant he’d catch some sort of disease.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and sucked it up, “it’s been a really long day.”
“Don’t apologize. You got every right to be upset. Make sure and let me know so I can get out of here.” He winked at her.
Amy smiled, his old gruff exterior held a good man. One who protected his family with a cutthroat viciousness unrivaled by anything she’d ever seen. Last year, C.W. lead Hunter’s group to rescue Evie from her psycho ex-fiancée. Before that he’d defended his daughter and granddaughter with unrelenting determination.
Amy hoped she could be half as fierce guarding her own family. Makeshift or not - Chloe and Arturo were hers.
Chapter 22
“I’m in.” Ranger squatted low behind a stack of crates, held his weapon to his chest and scanned the area. He’d managed to infiltrate the Lobello’s compound through a drainage gate in the south wall.
“Report.” Hunter grated through their hidden com system. The rest of the team remained outside the walls, waiting on Ranger to secure the west entrance.
“Two guards with machine guns on the ground. One on each roof. Two at the front gate. Heading west.” Ranger eased from behind the crates, his weapon raised, careful to stick to the shadows. Night had fallen, but the area was lined with flood lights that provided a warm glow regardless of the moon’s absence. The compound had three buildings side by side, all of them constructed with painted cinder blocks, bars on the windows and metal doors.
“Copy,” Hunter replied.
Ranger ran in a crouch along the south wall, barely ducking down before a walking guard on the west wall spotted him. He held his breath, tucked his M-4 over his shoulder and pulled his K-BAR knife from his pants. The guard lit a cigarette and gave Ranger his back, the only opening he needed. Ranger crept forward on silent feet, covered the man’s mouth with his free hand, and then slit his throat.
The guard dropped and Ranger dragged his dead weight to the corner, covering him with a discarded tarp. “One down.”
Ranger tucked his knife back in its case and pulled his 9mm, holding it high as he approached the west entrance. The small back door was located dead center in the wall. One guard remained, machine gun held ready, scanning his surroundings.
It wouldn’t be long before the guard noticed his partner’s absence, all Ranger had to do was wait him out. He crouched behind a metal drum, waiting, knife in hand. A few minutes later he heard footsteps approaching. Ranger tensed, ready to spring. The guard appeared and before the man could raise an alarm, Ranger drove his knife straight through his windpipe, cutting off his air.
He dragged him to the same corner as his dead comrade and covered them both with the tarp. Pausing, listening for any alert. The only sound was cars speeding down the highway in the distance outside the walls.
Ranger quickly secured the west wall and unlocked the door. Hunter, Riser and Merc stood waiting. Ranger spared a quick glance up at the buildings across the street where Aaron and Ethan had set up with their rifles.
“Secure. We’ve got the two at the front gate, two more in front of the buildings and the three guards on the roof.” Ranger tucked his knife back into his pants once more and checked his M-4.
“ATF and ICE are waiting for our signal. As soon as we’ve secured the hostages, they’ll move in.” Hunter said. The CIA took authority over the other government agencies in this instance. Normally, ATF would breach first, but TF-S’s new handler wasn’t willing to risk losing the intel. A stray bullet from an over eager newbie could take out the leaders of the Lobellos, which meant no intel.
Merc, without a question the deadliest member of their team, nodded to the east wall, where the front entrance was located. “Me and Riser will take the front. You two take the buildings. Aaron and Ethan can take out the rooftop.”
Hunter lifted his com and said, “Aaron, Ethan, you get that?”
“Roger, Top. On your signal.”
“Okay. Two minutes. Take out the rooftop.” Hunter dropped the com back to his neck and surveyed the area. His brother had more interest in this op than anyone else on the team. Ranger could feel the anticipation rolling off him in waves. “Move out.”
The four men moved as one, splitting up when they reached the back of the row of buildings. The James brothers moved left. Riser and Merc moved right. They had to strike at the same time or risk alerting whatever guards remained inside the buildings.
Hunter held up a fist and then flattened his hand. Ranger dropped. Merc spoke through the com, “Ready.”
Hunter answered, “Three count. One. Two. Three.”
Ranger exploded from behind the wall, slipping behind the first guard and silencing him with his knife. The second guard turned, weapon raised, and Ranger held the now dead man up as body armor.
But before the guard could fire, Hunter shot him, the silencer on his 9 mm muffling the sound. The man dropped and Hunter dragged him between the buildings, Ranger following suit. Four down. Five to go.
Ranger ducked back into the shadow of the building and watched as a shadow flew across the open ground. One of the guards fell to his knees, clutching his throat. The second turned and Merc slipped up behind him, wrapped his hands around the man’s head and snapped his neck like a twig.
Ranger heard a grunt above him, then another.
“Roof top secure.”
“Front gate secure,” Riser said.
“Building secure,” Ranger said.
Hunter walked to Ranger’s spot, waiting on the other two team members to join. Neither of them had broken a sweat, or even raised their heart rate. The job was simple. Take out the Lobellos. Secure the weapons and hostages. And if the fucker was here, take Lee Brown alive. Riser and Merc joined the group a few seconds later.
“Cord, ready,” Hunter said.
Cord waited outside with ATF. He’d protested when they’d told him to stay out of the main mission, but Grey hadn’t fucking cared. The man had to be vetted fully before he could have a brother’s back. His history with the Marine’s as an elite scout sniper was great, but it didn’t mean he was Task Force material.
“It looks like the women and children are being held in the north building. The men in the left. I couldn’t get much intel on the central building, but I think that’s where Santos is set up. Where Brown would be, too.”
“You think?” Hunter’s harsh question would’ve sent a full grown man running.
“Yeah, I think. Since last night, only two men have entered and left the building, I’m not a freaking magician who can see through walls.” Cord’s retort was just as deadly.
Hunter’s chest swelled, his veins popped on his arms, and rage rolled out of his pores as straight and burning as eighty proof rot gut whiskey. Lee Brown had nearly killed Hunter’s wife. The man’s time on earth was limited.
Ranger spoke up, knowing his brother needed a sec to gather his fury and regain perspective for the mission. “Okay. We’ll take the women and kids first. Then the men. Once we’ve secured all hostages, we can take the central building. Cut the head off the snake.”
Riser and Merc nodded. Hunter paced away, rubbing his hands over his head. “Fuck. Okay.” He approached the group again. “But you fuckers better get something straight. Brown is mine.”
“Got it, Top,” Merc said.
“Okay, let’s move.” Hunter led the team, the four men resuming their unit as one. They moved fluidly through the dark, winding around debris, ducking beneath the barred windows and then lined up beside the only entrance into the north building. Ranger checked his pistol. Hunter tried the door knob and shook
his head, locked.
Riser slipped around and pressed the small explosive clay into the doors hinges. The material was small enough not to cause a loud blast, but strong enough to get the job done. Ranger and his team ducked, the bombs went off with a small bang and hiss, and the door caved in.
A few people cried out from inside. Ranger heard men cursing in Spanish, then heavy footsteps toward the door. Hunter stood back, raised a booted foot and kicked the door in. The team moved, sweeping right, left and center. Easily taking out the unprepared guards, dropping them like flies.
A woman screamed, near the back. One guard remained. Fat. Dirty. His long hair stringy. But he had a pistol to the female’s head. “You let me pass or the woman dies.”
The men stood, pistols raised. “Let her go. Now.”
“No. Put your guns down. I’ll let her go when you let me pass.” Spit dribbled down the man’s chin.
“Not gonna happen,” Hunter said.
“Then she dies.”
He pressed his gun tighter into the woman’s temple. Hunter nodded at Merc, who took aim and fired, planting a bullet in the center of the Mexican’s forehead.
“Damn, look at this,” Riser said.
Ranger scanned the room, finally able to take in the sheer amount of women and children packed into the room. Most of them stared silently up at the group of armed men.
Riser stepped forward, the only one in the group halfway fluent in Spanish. “We are here to free you, but we have to secure the other buildings first. I need you to stay here and keep quiet. Can you do that?”
One woman, older and calm stood. “Si, senor. The women will keep the children silent.”
Riser nodded to her. TF-S waited at the door. “Women and children secure. What’s it look like out there?”
“Good to go.”
“Moving to breach the south building.”
Hunter led, Ranger behind, Riser and Merc bringing up the rear. Riser planted the explosives on the hinges again, not bothering to check the door. The hinges dropped and they breached the building, taking out the two guards inside. Men sat on the floor, knees to their chests, not even standing for the invasion.
Riser delivered the same message as he had to the others.
“Second building secure. Cord, ready ATF and ICE. We are moving to breach central in one minute.” Hunter, leader of TF-S, said.
“Got it, Top.”
“Okay, we don’t know what or who they have inside so we need to be ready for anything.” Hunter said and the group circled around him.
“Could be five, ten, fifteen guys.”
“Excuse me, senor. You want know what Santos have?” One man approached, shirtless, his torn pants hanging on a gaunt frame.
“Yes. Do you have any information?” Hunter said.
“Si. Santos like to pretend he big man. He keeps lots of guards. Lots of the women on hand. He have two with him all time. I see five more go in and out.”
“Gracias, mi amigo,” Riser said.
“Please, senor. My wife, she one of the women.” The man grabbed Ranger’s arm. Ranger looked down at the point of contact and the man let go. “Please, no harm the women. They no part of this.”
Ranger’s cold blooded armor shifted a little, understanding the man’s plea. How he might feel if it were Amy. Instead of scoffing he gave the man a reassuring smile, or the best semblance of a smile. “We’ve already secured most of the women. We won’t harm any of them.”
“Gracias. Gracias. Bless you,” the man said, dropping his head and hands as if the men were some kind of gods.
“Okay, let’s move before they realize we’re here. Cord, is ATF ready?”
“Lined up at the gate, waiting on your orders.”
“Count of ten, we move.” Ranger exited the building with his team and backed up to the central door. Riser planted the last of the explosives, uncaring if the blast was heard.
Hunter lifted five fingers. Four. Three. Two. One. The bomb detonated. Ranger moved in lead, breaching the door before the smoke cleared. Gunfire erupted in the dark interior. Men screamed. A bullet hissed past his ear and embedded in the concrete wall behind him. Ranger returned fire, aiming in the general direction of the shot. A thick thud sounded, followed by a groan. Target hit.
“Hold.”
The men stopped firing but held their guns ready. Merc flipped on the lights. Precisely five men lay in their own blood. Just like the man had said.
One door remained locked at the back of the room. “He knows we’re here.” Ranger stepped over the nearest body, still scanning the room just in case.
“Well, let’s go say hello.” Hunter was the first one at the door. He smiled, his grin closer to the grim reaper than a real man. “Santos, we know you’re in there. Come out now.”
“Fuck you,” came the muffled response.
“No, Santos. We’ve taken out all your guards. ICE is escorting your captives as we speak. It’s over.”
No answer.
“Let’s finish this.” Ranger was ready for the mission to be over. Ready to get home. To Amy.
“Remember, if Brown is in there, he’s mine.” Hunter’s smile disappeared and in its wake was nothing but the cold promise of death.
Hunter kicked the door in and Ranger moved past, first to enter. A man, not Santos stood, a half-naked woman held in front of him.
“Where is Santos?”
“Right here.”
Ranger felt the press of cold steel to his temple. Realized his eagerness to get back to Amy may result in his doom. He swallowed, lifted his hands and dropped his gun. Images of Amy’s stark grief stricken face at Shane’s funeral flashed in his mind. Only this time, it would be Ranger in that casket
Chapter 23
Ex-Sheriff Lee Brown paced the confines of the large barge anchored just up river from Coldwater Paper Mill. He’d heard last year from his buddy in Game and Fish that the barge was out-of-commission. It had run aground and the company that owned it had come into some financial problems and hadn’t been able to come free it. After finding Marcus’s weapons last year, weapons he’d intended to sell to an international terrorist, Brown had quickly set about moving them to a new, hidden location. This barge was the only place big enough and far enough from land to hide a weapon like he’d acquired.
What Brown had assumed all along was a cache of AK’s and grenades was in fact only five weapons. But these weapons weren’t ordinary handguns. After doing his fair share of research, and a little help from a few old friends in law enforcement, he’d discovered what a treasure he now possessed.
But he’d balked at handing over such power to terrorists. So he’d made contact with some bad guys a little more local, if he could call Mexican’s local. They hadn’t agreed to his price at first. But when Brown had threatened to go elsewhere with his business, they’d quickly capitulated to his demands.
If it hadn’t been for pure luck, Brown would have been at the Lobello compound a few days ago, and he’d be in custody right now. Or dead. He’d been on his way to the meeting, with proof of his weapons, when he’d hit a deer coming up Red Fork Road.
The damn thing had taken out his front bumper and drove a dent deep enough to kill his radiator. Brown got the truck off the road, then put it in neutral and let it roll into Bayou Bartholomew. He’d cursed and ranted and raved that night. Until he heard about the raid on the Lobellos.
Santos, his contact, was now dead, as was most of his gang. Now Brown was left with a boatload of weapons and no buyer.
He stared at his sat phone again, his hands shaking as he contemplated his future. He’d killed before and honestly hadn’t felt much remorse for it. He’d committed his fair share of crimes. But he’d never considered himself a traitor.
If he made this phone call he would betray his country.
Probably be responsible for thousands of deaths around the world.
Brown’s finger hovered over the dial button. He might be a traitor, but he would be a filth
y rich one.
He hit dial.
“Who is this?” The man’s accent was definitely foreign.
“This is your new best friend.”
By the time he disconnected the call, Brown had a new outlook on life, and it was good. The man had been extremely interested in his deal and had in fact, already sent his own man to Mercy in search of the weapons. All Brown had to do was wait for the contact’s phone call and he’d be set. He wouldn’t have to worry about purchasing a plane ticket out of the country and getting flagged by the FBI. He could buy his own plane.
* * *
Amy stood at her island, chopping vegetables for supper. Zucchini, squash and carrots colors were bright and happy, the total opposite of her mood for the past few days. She hadn’t heard from Ranger in two days. Two whole days and she was a freaking train wreck.
Sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window, gleaming on the island countertop and lighting the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights in the house, preferring natural light. The oven dinged behind her and she jumped. Every time something clicked in her house she startled. Every time her phone rang her heart raced. The memory of Shane’s death whispering through her mind, constantly reminding her how easy it was to lose the ones you love.
The logical part of her knew Ranger was fine. He was strong. Capable. Damn good at what he did. But the other part of her, the part that finally opened up and admitted her feelings for him – that part throbbed like a raw and aching wound.
The pot of purple-hulled peas was already on the stove boiling. The aroma of cinnamon and fresh vegetables filled the house, their delicious scent helping sooth her frayed nerves. Amy grabbed the fresh okra and started chopping. She sliced down and cut the tip of her finger. Instant sharp pain flooded her senses and she dropped the butcher knife. She ran to the sink and ran water over the cut, cursing herself for her clumsiness. For her distraction. For letting herself care so much that it hurt.
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