The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Sixteen

“H ow much time do we have?” Luna asked.

“I have to be on a dock in Marathon in two hours.” I threw clothes into my duffle.

“ Mierda , that doesn’t leave us much time to prep. Come on in and gear up. I’ll pull up satellite images, and we’ll see what we’re dealing with.”

“No gear, no weapons. Dante’s a paranoid fuck and doesn’t allow it.”

Lune let out a string of cuss words in Spanish. “You’re not going in stripped.”

“Yes, I am.” What choice did I have?

“Jesucristo, Asher.”

“You said we have forty-eight hours. Dante’s given Loic that timeframe to produce results. I’ll find a way to get her out by then. If not, send in a team at…” I glanced at my watch. “Oh-five-hundred tomorrow.” It’d still be dark an hour before sunrise. “In the meantime, you have two hours to recon a location to have Christensen’s cruiser nearby. I’ll swim her out, or worst case, we’ll wait for you to come get us.” There wasn’t much else of a choice.

“This has fifty ways to go FUBAR, and forty-eight hours is too big a window,” Luna argued.

I zipped up my bag. “Then come up with a different plan. You have two hours. I’m leaving now.”

“Swing by the office, we’ll get you some comms. I have a couple long-range ones.”

“Not risking it. If they don’t allow me to bring my own damn gun, I’m sure I’ll get scanned.”

“You can’t go with only a cell phone.”

I was sure they’d take that too. “I’ll call you from the road.”

“Asher—”

“Later.” I hung up and grabbed my keys.

Locking up, I made my way to the garage and stopped short.

Preston stood at the passenger door of my truck.

“I thought you were up with Roark.”

“Was.” He scanned my driveway and the street beyond. “Just got back.”

“Luna know where you are?” Not that he kept constant tabs on all of his employees, but Preston was still in his probation period, and Luna did keep close tabs on that shit.

Preston shrugged. “He’ll figure it out.”

“What’s up?” I tossed my bag in the bed of my F250 Lariat.

Preston glanced around my garage. “I’ll drive down with you.”

“No fucking way.” If they saw him, they’d know something was up. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Not all the way. You can drop me off early.” He held up a tablet. “I have some images. We’ll go over them.”

Jesus Christ. “You took pictures of the island?” Was he suicidal?

“Yeah, eighteen. Twelve came out.”

I started to walk around the front of my vehicle. “Show me now.”

Preston scanned the garage and street again, then looked at my truck.

I could read him like a book. “Fine.” I unlocked the doors. “Get in.” I got behind the wheel and cranked the engine, turning on the AC.

Preston got in, locked his door, scanned the garage again, then swept his finger across the tablet. “Here’s the first one.” Holding it toward me, he pointed at a high-resolution shot that looked like one of those images you’d see for real estate sales, minus the guard on the dock with an M16. “You can see there’re two easy ways on to the island, the dock and the beach.”

The entire island was mangroves except for the two locations he pointed out. “You took these images from a flyover? How low were you?”

“Not very. I have a good camera and zoom lens.” He swiped to the next image, a zoomed-in shot of the buildings on the island. “There’s one main house and three cottages. But look at where all the guards are patrolling.”

I studied the image a second. “The main house.”

Preston nodded and swiped to the next image, where there was a guard standing on a second-floor deck of the house. “That’s where they’re keeping her.”

I didn’t question him, the observation made sense, but he also had a sixth sense about shit like this. “What does the surrounding area look like? We need a location where Christensen’s cruiser can wait.”

He swiped through a couple photos and stopped at an image that showed the entire island as well as what was surrounding it. The closest island was north and east, but they’d be expecting me to head toward it or the mainland with her.

I pointed at a small island that was two keys south of Dante’s island and further out toward open waters. “How far is that one?”

Preston spared me a rare glance. “Probably two miles.”

I could swim that. “Tell Luna to have Christensen’s boat waiting there on the south end of that island.”

“Open water swim with a civilian.” It wasn’t a statement or a question, it was Preston’s version of a warning.

“I’ll handle it.”

Without comment, he looked back at the tablet and scrolled through a couple more photos before pausing and pointing. “The side of the island that faces the mainland is virtually unprotected. Easy exit point they won’t expect.”

“Agree.” In the picture, thick mangroves over a story high blanketed the east side of the island. I pointed at something coming out of the water. “What’s that?”

“Old dock pilings.” He swept to the next picture, which was a zoomed-in shot of the location. “Water isn’t very deep there.”

“Zoom in a little more here.” I pointed at the screen.

Preston pinched two fingers and enlarged the area by the old pilings.

“Right there.” I pointed at a piling close to shore, almost buried in the roots of the mangroves. “Could you get in there tonight? Leave me a dry bag tied to that piling?”

“With?”

I reached behind my seat for my extra piece, magazines, and silencer I kept in a go bag in the truck. “This.” I dumped the bag on the center console. “Also a pair of fins and comms.”

Preston shut down his tablet and took the bag. “Anything else?”

“Throw in a burner phone if you have one.”

“Done.” He shouldered the bag and reached for the door lock.

“One more favor?”

Preston paused, but he didn’t look at me.

“If anything happens, bring my truck back and give it to my sister. She knows where the title is.”

“Done.” He got out and closed the door without further comment. But before he took off, he stared at me for a moment with a somber expression. Then he tipped his chin and walked away.

I pulled out of my garage.