The Fifth Season
Page 23
Cassidy gazed beyond his shoulder at the line of men standing in the shadows. They were a surly bunch, dirty and disheveled. Sweat stained wife-beaters, muddied jeans and angry mouths had drawn her attention earlier but now she recognized the vast amount of bloodied bandages the men wore. “You’re telling me a cat did this?”
“Not just one.” The man answered, signaling for the men to move forward.
Cassidy had been traveling this region for several months, teaching the Yanomami about the danger of the polluted water and working closely with the Brazilian government to offer up a solution to the land crisis of the Amazon. This was ZEBRA’s official White Stripe mission. Although Cassidy did hold the Special Forces elite Black Stripe status, she hadn’t been briefed on any secret military operations for this assignment.
She’d heard rumblings about ghost cats and recently sent a request to ZEBRA to issue approval for an investigation into the rumored albino jaguars.
The lead man dropped into silence as Cassidy approached his men. Unpeeling a length of gauze from the closest man’s arm, she scrutinized the wound in the pale morning light. Her nostrils flared at the foul odor of sepsis. “Come with me,” she demanded. “All of you, follow me.”
Cassidy strode through the camp waving at Malia, her biologist, to leave the women and children. When Malia reached her side, Cassidy lowered her voice. “We’re in no imminent danger. These men are hurt. Badly. What do we have in medical and where’s the closest doctor?”
Malia pulled out her global satellite phone and punched in a few numbers. “I’ll radio for medics from São Gabriel. They can make it here by chopper pretty quick. The med kit should be in our main tent.”
“Okay.” Cassidy gently slid one arm around the back of the wounded man and urged him forward. “I don’t know when Jake’s group will return. We need to set up temporary facilities for the wounded.” She urged the man to follow her but froze at a loud snap of gunfire. Caterwauls and screeches of startled animals created a din loud enough to muffle an ensuing attack, disorientating Cassidy.
The miner collapsed at her feet, a pool of blood forming on the hard-packed dirt beneath his head.
Cassidy’s ears rang with a tinny echo as gunshot filled the camp. Men fell. Their chests ripped apart by the onslaught of bullets, streams of red streaked the dry earth. Panic stricken, Cassidy searched for cover. She inhaled sharply when the lead miner’s head exploded, spattering her white shirt with crimson blood and brain matter.
Chaos loomed as bullets rained deadly fire upon the camp. Cassidy dove at Malia, shoving her behind a generator. “Call Jake.” She scrambled forward on her belly, gun held in front and posed to shoot. Her fingers shook and Cassidy willed herself still. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted Malia rooted in fear. “Call Jake! Now!”
Shrieks of pain wove between the staccato percussion of AK-47 rifles. Cassidy concentrated on the mundane, isolating the origin of the attack and scrutinizing her defense. She needed to step outside of her comfort zone and think like Jake. Fight like Jake. She gagged as blood wafted from every corner of the tiny village. Innocent lives were hers to protect. At the edge of the tree line, shadows moved. Cassidy saw sparks of muzzles.
She’d been trained by the best of the best. Inhale. Exhale. Find the target.
Aim.
Fire.
A body fell.
Ignoring the horror that soaked through every essence of her being, Cassidy continued her attack on the invisible shadows in the jungle. Morning sun glinted dangerously, filtering through the leaves in beams of light and marking her targets as it kissed the edge of metal.
Death angled in her direction, she rolled avoiding the fire of deadly metal and grabbed a weapon from the grasp of a still miner maintaining her defense against the marauders. Where the hell was Jake?
“Kill or be killed,” Cassidy muttered to herself. She moved to the left, bumping into the body of one of the villagers. Her world froze as the face came into focus. Just this morning the man, a Yanomami elder, had shown her a hidden pocket of water and delighted in her discovery of a breathtaking waterfall.
Horror slowed time and shock held her breath. A deep righteous anger flooded Cassidy’s soul, sparking revenge and a hatred she hadn’t felt in months. “Bastards,” she screamed and stood glaring at the leafy blockade that shadowed her enemy.
***
Jake Anderson, captain of the elite Special Forces Black Stripe ZEBRA squad, heard the gunshot before the call reached his radio. “Duncan,” he yelled signaling to his second in command. “We’ve no time. Let’s go.” Duncan alerted the balance of the men and they snapped weapons into place, discarding all pretense of their scientific cover.
They abandoned their attempts at uprooting the stubborn tire of their truck from a muck filled riverbed and fell into formation running at breakneck speed in the direction of the camp.
Jake’s heart pounded, fear freezing the blood in his veins. Cassidy was trained, but he’d spent the past year fighting and negotiating with ZEBRA to keep her off Black Stripe assignments. She couldn’t kill a bug let alone a person which left her vulnerable and in extreme danger.
Jake calculated the distance. Another few minutes would place them at the camp, but he needed to slow their motion and fan the men outward. There were only five operatives assigned to Cassidy’s pod. Well trained and battle hungry, the men executed their tasks with brilliant precision.
They approached from the rear, the advantage theirs. His men began picking off the shooters as Jake edged past toward the heart of the village.
In the center, a warrior stood.
A blend of strength and steel that stole the breath from his lungs, igniting a heated attraction that flamed from the most visceral edge of his being.
She was beautiful.
Blond hair fell in loose wavy locks, swirling around slender shoulders as the fighter twisted and turned railing bullets at her enemy. She dropped an emptied rifle and dove forward, gracefully snatching a weapon from a body that no longer had the need of defense. Rising on one knee, shirt torn and tattered, blood streaming from a wound on her upper arm, Cassidy aimed and fired. A movement to her left had Jake seizing his weapon, but she pulled a knife from her belt and tossed it effortlessly into the chest of a man racing toward her.
As her bullets were met with silence, Cassidy ceased her attack, rose and turned slowly to meet Jake’s shocked gaze.
He fell to his knees, the overwhelming truth of what he’d done to the woman he loved too much to bear. Jake heard his men calling to one another, checking status. He heard the whomp of helicopter blades. He heard the voice of his second in command, yelling for order. But loudest of all, he heard Cassidy whisper his name as she stood, bloodied and victorious, her hands shaking so badly they prevented a clean grip on the weapon dangling from her fingers and an expression of self-loathing on her face that shattered his heart.
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Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
ANGEL FALLS
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