Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
And Max knew it.
He fucking masterminded this whole thing.
Robbie was angry, but James Hayes was enraged. He’s never liked surprises and really doesn’t like playing nice with agencies he hasn’t agreed to.
There’s now a slew of ranks claiming to be in charge.
It’s been a pissing contest that James won.
This morning, our guys uncovered the proof that our traitor had tipped off Ricardo’s team they were under surveillance and Marines were in the city. It was this fuckwad who got our men caught.
Now we have the collaborator red-handed and enough information about the network to lead to the top.
It’s time to rescue our men.
We approach the jail, entering through the door closest to the stairwell. Plans submitted for the renovation and Eli’s knowledge give us an idea of the house specs, but we know to be prepared for the unknown.
Ricardo knows he’s being watched. He kidnapped three US Marines, and one of his crew went missing last week.
He increased his security.
There are four guys in the house tonight. Unfortunately, Ricardo is not one of them.
We slip into the dim house and spread out.
Loud voices filter from the front room which sounds like a party. Blade, Major, and Ace crouch at the entryway, Major flashing a few signals.
All four men are accounted for.
That’s all we need. Ford, Eli, and I readjust our vision goggles and creep down the staircase slowly, mindful of any traps.
When we reach the bottom, the stench hits me—blood, sweat, rotting food, human waste.
My gut tightens as my sight lands on three forms against a wall.
Eli confirmed the basement is monitored, so the only thing I can do is knock out a series of taps on the wall.
The faint reply comes seconds later.
Bad Shape…
Eli’s last visual had them healthy. They’d taken a few hits, but Ricardo wanted them presentable for bargaining power.
Something changed over this last week.
Using Morse Code, the taps give us an idea of what we’re facing.
Drugged…
“Threat eliminated,” Major announces in our ear coms.
Ford sends a message to Rand and Hugo to scramble the video feed on this room.
“You’re up.” His response is almost immediate and we’re on the move.
I get to Max first, Eli and Ford taking the other two.
Rage boils to the surface.
Dried blood stains his chest and abdomen from what resembles stab wounds. His eyes are swollen, cheeks torn, and lips spilt. His overgrown beard is caked with blood and dirt.
“Roberts, can you move?”
Max’s head lolls to the side, his pupils barely visible.
“‘Bout time you showed up.”
“Yeah, well, Fancypants over here got us into a pissing war with every agency in D.C.” I jerk my chin to Gage.
Max cracks a smile. “Fancypants, like that one. Glad you found Gage.”
Gage doesn’t stop his assessment of the man. “You know who I am?”
“Clocked you in a second.”
Gage grunts, “Doubtful.”
“Can you stand?” I catch the awkward angle of Max’s left leg.
“Get my guys out.”
“We’re getting everyone out. Tell me what I’m dealing with.”
“They’ve been pumping us with some kind of shit hoping we’d talk. Hayes and Black are in bad shape, unconscious.”
Ford’s gaze meets mine. Whatever it is in his system has him hallucinating he’s with Robbie and Finn.
“We gotta move, Meyer’s pulse is fading.” Ford’s fingers are at the man’s throat.
“Same,” Gage adds.
All three need carrying out. “Get a medevac helo ready,” I order into my com.
“On it,” Rand responds.
Boots pound on the stairs, the other guys surrounding us and taking in the scene. Ace crouches at Max’s side, hoisting him forward so we can get a lock under his arms and lift him.
“Jesus, Roberts, lay off the sweets,” Ace grumbles.
“Aww, Kingston, don’t be jealous. This is all muscle, baby,” Max slurs.
When we reach the top of the stairs, he clutches my shoulder. “Take me to them.”
“We need to get you to the van.”
“I need to see those fuckers myself.”
Ace tips his head and I nod, lifting my goggles to the light. We carry him to the living room where all four men sit upright in their chairs with single shots to the forehead.
“Do me a favor. Give that one in the blue another tap for good measure.”
“Can’t die twice,” Ace counters.
“Humor me. Fucker crushed my ankle.”
Ace pulls out his piece, aiming at the guy’s ankle and firing. Max gives out a wickedly sick laugh when fragments of bone fly.
Hugo is helping load Meyer and Pitts into the van, Ford shouting orders while Major grabs his medical bag.
Max rumbles when we get him inside, fresh blood seeping from his chest wounds.
Hugo slams us in, hopping in the passenger seat while Rand speeds away.
I’m not as skilled as Major, but I get started on hooking Max up to an IV for fluids.
Ford barks into the SAT phone, filling in Robbie on our status.
I scoot to the side, clipping the IV bag with the others and checking Max’s pulse.