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  Before he had time to respond, Franks cleared Cowboy, and Ken saw movement near the door and heard Cowboy’s “Shit’s about to get real” comment he always made before blowing something up.

  “Shit,” Ken said under his breath. When munitions were used, knots formed in his stomach. It brought back too many memories of loss that had to remain pushed back to the recesses of his mind or he’d be lost in emotional grief and guilt.

  The team’s focus had to be Cody. Without even knowing the boy, every one of them would give their lives to save him. By no means did they desire that outcome, but they’d do it. The child was an innocent who belonged home. In most cases home. In this case, with his loving godmother.

  Before they could breach the entry, men rushed out of the barracks armed, seeking out the team.

  “I’ve got your six,” Sam told the team.

  Ken squinted at the narrow openings in the gate again and couldn’t believe her confidence. He didn’t doubt her marksmanship, but she’d never had this type of barrier. At least as far as he knew. Maybe she had with SWAT. No matter, with her calmness and focus, he didn’t doubt she could do this.

  He focused downfield as Sam took a shot. A man fell but another came in from the opposite direction. “Cowboy’s three o’clock.” At times like this, he loved to watch her but couldn’t tear his gaze away from what was happening with his team. He could only imagine how beautiful she looked.

  Damn. There were ten targets, and his team didn’t have anywhere to take cover so they’d hustled to the side of the main house. Sam took down another target before Cowboy announced, “Fire in the hole.”

  As the agents moved from the side of the house toward the door, they encountered additional men from the barracks.

  Without fail, Sam took down any she deemed necessary. He called out any trying to sneak in for an attack.

  “Old Man’s six o’clock.”

  She didn’t fire, and he didn’t know if that meant she hadn’t heard him or didn’t have a shot.

  He tried again, wishing he could make the shot. “Old Man’s six o’clock,” he said sterner.

  The shot rang out, and Old Man turned to see the man who’d been sneaking up from behind him. He glanced toward the gate and gave a two-finger salute to them.

  Once they breached the entry, Ken’s pulse raced and he nearly held his breath while he heard the men calling, “Clear,” as they went from room to room.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up before he heard the rustle of something—or someone—approaching. He sensed Sam tense beside him. They didn’t speak. They both reacted instinctively.

  His rifle bit the dirt and with a roll to his left side, he grabbed his SIG Sauer from the right holster and as soon as his right arm broke free, he snatched his other SIG from the left holster. Landing on his back, he aimed at two of the three tangos before them. In his peripheral vision, Sam had her handgun pointed at the other tango.

  His heartbeat quickened with worry that he couldn’t protect Sam. At least they had three weapons on three tangos. Had he not spotted for her on this op, she’d have been in a losing battle of weapons. With the calmness he’d mastered in battle, he watched every movement, twitch, or change in expression of the men. If they gave any inkling of firing, he had no doubt that he and Sam were faster on the trigger.

  For some reason, the men had their rifles lowered. It didn’t take a genius to know things weren’t as they seemed and they’d have to shoot their way out of this because they didn’t desire to become captives. Or dead.

  As one man said in broken English, “You die,” the other men began lifting their rifles. A second after he and Sam simultaneously fired kill shots, an explosion inside the compound shook the ground beneath them.

  With the men on the ground, he sprang to his feet, grabbing his M4 in one hand and the spotting tripod in the other as he did. “Move.” He didn’t need to say another word before she had her gear stowed and stood beside him. It stood to reason if any other men patrolled this area, they’d have heard the gunshots.

  “Get to the extraction point,” he directed since they weren’t able to help before the op ended.

  She nodded and turned to the west.

  “I’ll cover your six.” While adrenaline surged through him, he wouldn’t allow his slower gait to hold her back if he led. He hoped she didn’t run into trouble before they got to the bird.

  Over the comm system, he broke in and said, “Sugar’s Oscar Mike.”

  The radio went silent for a moment as it seemed everyone held their breath. They knew something had happened for the sniper to move this early, yet they couldn’t help. They had to complete their op first.

  “Sitrep,” Franks requested and Ken heard the small spark of fear in the agent.

  “Three tangos bit the farm.”

  After trudging through that thicket of the jungle, they broke through to a small trail and based on the overgrowth, it didn’t look regularly used. It took them southwest versus west alone, but using it could allow fast movement to escape anyone on their tail. They could turn back west when the best time warranted. He hated the team hadn’t recon’d it.

  Knowing what Ken meant by his statement, Franks spouted, “Foxtrot Uniform.”

  Ken wanted to laugh at how Franks had gotten around flat-out profanity. The younger, blond man might have it right. With the bursts of gunfire in the area, he felt that “fucked up” might be appropriate.

  “We’re moving to Point Alpha.” If they couldn’t make that extraction point, then they’d have to go to Point Bravo and wait until someone came to extract them later.

  “Copy,” Franks responded.

  As they raced along the trail, the expanse between him and Sam grew further with each moment. His limp slowed him down.

  Voices tossing out words in Spanish that he didn’t understand—and figured Sam didn’t either—breathed out through the jungle to the east. More than likely, that meant they’d found their friends and knew at least one person was on the run.

  He had to get Sam to keep going no matter what. Damned if she didn’t turn around and run behind him to check his six. He’d been wrong about getting her to quit HIS. She rocked in her warrior-woman mode. It made him love her all the more.

  Realizing the men were closer than first thought, he whispered, “Blend into the jungle. If I get caught, you run and save yourself.”

  “What? No.”

  How could she really think he wanted her as a captive or dead? He ground his teeth. He hated pulling the boss card, but dammit, he’d do it without fail if it saved her life. “Follow my damn orders.”

  Without a retort, she blended into the foliage. He followed her before they fanned out to put some distance between them in case they were discovered.

  The men, or new ones, were too close. It became obvious they were on his tail, and no matter what happened, he thanked God they weren’t on Sam’s. He’d endure anything to keep her safe.

  About the same time he heard the shot, a searing pain to the back of his leg wracked him, and he crumpled to the ground doing the last thing a soldier should, he allowed his weapon out of his grasp. Before he could move, Sam appeared and used her boot to slide his rifle to him. Lightning fast, she ripped the scarf she wore around her neck to keep critters from crawling down her shirt and swiftly wrapped a makeshift tourniquet on his leg. Without a moment to chastise her for disobeying him, she rose to one knee, faced behind him, her rifle pointing toward their threat. “Use my shoulder to get up,” she offered.

  He didn’t want to need the help, especially from the one he promised to protect, but he had to use her or he’d be found. Taking a deep breath against the pain, he moved to get to his knees and fell, cursing at his failure. No way would he give up. The second time he tried, he gritted his teeth against the blinding shot of agony, then reached to Sam’s shoulder to help him sta
nd.

  Three shots erupted from Sam’s rifle. With her precision, she had no need for automatic.

  Not a newbie to the type of pain that burned in his thigh, he thought Jesse might’ve made the wrong choice keeping him on the payroll after all. He hadn’t fully recovered from being shot in the hip. They should just shoot him in the calf and foot and call it done.

  Somehow, leaning heavily on Sam, he got to his feet. She slung her piece over her shoulder and took his rifle since he couldn’t hold it with one arm slung over the same shoulder. Not at all arguing, he pulled his SIG, and they took off toward the west as best as they could. While one person could slip through the jungle with little noise, the movement of the trees gave their path away.

  In the same situation he found himself in, any man would appreciate the help from a teammate but would push the teammate to save themselves so they could help mount a rescue or recovery—although he tried not to think about the last option. “Sam, go. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “We’ve a situation here,” she said and still tugged him along.

  “Go ahead,” Franks responded, albeit a bit breathless. Ken hadn’t even been listening to what happened in the compound.

  Ken broke in, “Have you got the package?”

  “Roger.”

  Before anyone else could speak, Sam piped back in, “Boss is shot, and we have tangos on our six.”

  “Don’t you dare turn back,” Ken commanded like the team actually needed to hear it. “Your job is to get the package safe. If we’re not at Point Alpha in time, we’ll be at Point Bravo as scheduled.”

  Although he wanted to climb all over Sam for asking for help, he held back. One reason was that he wasn’t sure she really asked, but with the open mics, there were some things that didn’t need to be aired.

  After he stumbled for the second time, Sam said, almost like she finally accepted their dire straits, “We’re not going to make it to Alpha in time.”

  Releasing a heavy sigh, he agreed, “No.”

  The airwaves held only silence for the second time during the op. All chatter had ceased. If he were Franks, he’d struggle with how to save the boy and rescue members of the team. This would be the first time Franks faced this situation, but thankfully Jesse could mentor and take over if needed.

  “Doc, you’re Shaggy,” Franks directed the man to observe and play decoy if needed.

  “Roger,” Doc responded.

  He felt better that Cody would be safe and he and Sam would have someone to help rescue them should they be captured. Should they be killed, well….

  Without realizing what lay ahead, they burst through the bushes into an open area that left them vulnerable. Sam halted and looked around. “Shit. We’ve gotta move fast across this. Can you do it?”

  “I want to survive, so I’ll do anything needed.” A fear he hadn’t known in a long time gripped his gut. The first men had meant to kill them. Why would this group be any different? As much as he didn’t want to be a captive, he’d prefer that to death.

  A small smile played on her lips before she went all commando on him again.

  “Let’s move,” she instructed.

  “Wait.”

  She looked at him with an impatient expression.

  “Earpiece,” he breathed in pain. In cases where they were captured or killed, giving the enemy access to their communications was utterly unacceptable, because it could impede operations and put lives at risk. While he hated allowing himself to go blind, it had to be done. They’d keep their mics for now to relay information. The team had only a single earpiece that worked to transmit and receive, but their full shipment hadn’t arrived in time to depart, so he and Sam, being further from the action, took the more cumbersome models. Now, he was glad they had as it gave him a bit more time to communicate, albeit one-way.

  Sam leaned away, and they both removed their wireless earpieces. Gesturing to the spot before her, he dropped his, and she stomped on it with her booted foot. Devon would be disappointed to lose these pieces. They also removed the SIM cards from their phones. He hated to destroy them, but they might not have another chance before they lost the equipment.

  “We’re going together,” Sam stated matter-of-factly. “Toss your arm over my shoulder.” He did so and she wrapped her arm around his waist. If things weren’t as dire as they were, he’d relish her arm around him. Trying not to shift his weight too much on her, they moved to safety.

  Twenty feet into the clearing, his fear came true. His body tensed and his stomach dropped. Fear for Sam gripped him, holding tight enough to suffocate him. His heart hurt.

  The threat moved in from two sides—twelve o’clock and six o’clock. Sam shifted them sideways so they could see both groups, and he groaned with the pain it caused. He really could use Doc right now.

  He didn’t know much about Casper, Bravo Team’s new medic, but Doc kicked butt as a medic and warrior, even though he’d been a SEAL instead of the elite Army Rangers. If things hadn’t been as dire as they were, he’d have laughed at that and maybe even over the air.

  Taking a deep breath in an effort to control the throbbing, achy fire that wanted to tear his leg apart, he made a decision that impacted his heart. As much as he didn’t wish it so, this could be the end, and he refused to die without telling her the truth. “I love you, Sam. I always have.”

  With time of the essence, he didn’t allow her to respond before he announced into his mic, “Sugar’s team down. Switch to channel Charlie,” since he didn’t expect the response from her he desired. As for the team, they’d check in on the alternate channel and continue with their op, knowing comms had been compromised.

  “Drop weapons. Where boy?” a short, stout Hispanic man asked with a heavy accent. When they didn’t answer, he asked something that froze the blood in his veins, “You Ken Patrick?”

  His breath caught and his racing pulse froze in his veins. How did they know him? Damn Beverly. She’d given them away. With his ponytail, it hadn’t been hard to identify him. Yet telling them the truth gave him a fifty-fifty chance of survival. Telling them a lie did the same thing. With Sam’s life to consider, his decisions became even more difficult.

  Sam twisted them to get a better view of the man and it took everything not to cry out.

  No bones about it. They were truly outnumbered. Two to… he glanced and counted… eight.

  When Sam spun again, his leg buckled and he pulled them to the ground. Oh, he wished she wasn’t here. He reached and cupped her cheek ever so lightly, wondering if this would be the last he saw her. From the fierce look in her eyes, she’d pull everything she had for them to escape this group.

  When the stout man took a step toward them, Sam spun as fast as lightning, and on her back, aimed her M4 at the man.

  “Drop weapons,” the man insisted.

  Sam slid a small, quick glance at him in answer. With the realization they had no choice—if they wanted to live at least for the next five minutes—Ken gave her a brief nod. They each tried to hold onto any weapon they could, but the men who stepped forward and searched them even found the smaller knives they kept in their boots. As expected, they took the comm systems—or what they’d left of them. After a moment of confusion, since they didn’t find a receiver with them, they checked their ears which told him their boss held his own secrets of protection.

  He hoped Sam had a weapon tucked away where these assholes couldn’t find it. If he could gain his feet, they could make some headway.

  The stout man became impatient. “Now, where boy?”

  “Safe” was all Ken said as he glared at the man. Cody had been their priority and he wouldn’t give him up, even for his own life.

  The man narrowed his eyes but didn’t question him further. Instead, he asked again, “You Ken Patrick?”

  Curious, but not stupid about the fact they knew his na
me, he chose not to hold back any longer. He nodded before answering, “I am.”

  With a nod, the man waved him forward and pointed at Sam. “You come too.”

  Trying not to show his weakness, Ken tried to gain his feet, but unmanageable searing pain ripped through his leg, and he collapsed on his face. When darkness began to creep in around his eyes, he fought it. He had to protect Sam. He couldn’t leave her alone with these men. He had no idea what they planned for her.

  His angel leaned over him. “Come on, Boss, I’ll help you up.”

  “Sam, save yourself,” he said, knowing her chance probably dwindled because instead of covering her, he lapsed into darkness with her sweet face on his mind.

  14

  Fear skittered up Sam’s spine as she swiveled her head from side to side assessing every threat while assuming a protective stance over Ken. Being unarmed, she had to remain calm, yet vigilant.

  Before Ken had passed out, she’d been focused on one thing—their survival. It hadn’t been fear that motivated her; it’d been pure determination. Yes, her heart beat overtime and her pulse raced fast enough to win the Kentucky Derby, but since she’d learned to control her fear, she’d not allowed it to rule her. Fear alone didn’t help someone survive. Skill and a level head were her best bet.

  An acute sense of purpose drove her, and she stood solidly, at the ready. There had to be a way out and getting them there drove her. Her stomach revolted, because escape presented a challenge she couldn’t overcome without Ken’s help. Not only could she not overpower this many men at once, but even if they offered her the ability to slip away, she wouldn’t leave him to his fate.

  She’d sprinted back to help cover his six since he’d not been moving at his full speed. Although, she’d been surprised at how fast he had moved with his injury. She knew the prospect of death made someone forget an impediment to their survival.

  His whispered words had thrown her. “I love you, Sam. I always have.” She hadn’t any idea how to respond to that admission. And right now, she couldn’t allow her mind to drift away from their situation.