Chapter Forty-Nine Ryder
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ryder
The humid air clung to my skin as sweat beaded down my spine. The jungle was alive, creatures all around us well aware they had guests who didn’t belong there. The dense canopy diffused the moonlight, creating shadows in my green-tinted world.
My team quietly weaved in and out of the undergrowth. Moving in on our target in preparation for the strike, slipping between the trees like ghosts. Invisible to everyone but the animals. We were just other beasts in the night to them. Predators hunting prey.
Each step was calculated and controlled, propelled forward by adrenaline and the desire to make it home alive to those we loved.
I slowed my pace as my world broadened outside the jungle, expanding far beyond my current field of view and back to the villa. To Seraphina. To my feelings for a woman I barely knew but felt like I’d known my whole damn life.
“You good, boss?” Reed was at my side. Was he trying to make me feel as though Alex was with us with that boss shit?
“Just Charlie Mike,” I ordered, then patted his shoulder twice.
With my head back in the game now, I broke off from the team as planned to cross over the fence. “TOC, this is Delta One,” I said to Jessica, our eyes in the sky tonight. “I’m advancing on target.” I pivoted around and used an infrared light to mark my position for her.
“This is TOC; I’ve got you. You have a hundred meters of open space sitting between you and four hostiles, one of which is in the back of a truck bed having a cigarette.”
A hundred meters of open space without coverage might as well be a mile. “This is Delta One, that’s a good copy.” I turned to the side, signaling to Reed with my fist to stop.
He was blending in with the foliage. Just another shadow out there.
“This is TOC, Delta One, be advised, you also have two rooftop snipers.”
I confirmed I heard her before Bravo One came over our comms, asking ángel, “What’s your status, Foxtrot One?”
ángel had Beth and Ezra tied up in his SUV. Ezra was in the back, and Beth was in the passenger seat. I didn’t trust either of them not to try and pull some shit even with their hands and ankles bound.
“This is Foxtrot One, I have eyes on the target. Headlights are approaching. His guys are almost here. About twenty seconds,” he let us know, and that was now our countdown.
As soon as he alerted us the SUV had stopped, that was our cue to move in.
“Delta Team, you’re up,” I ordered, slinging my rifle out of my way to climb up over the fence. We needed to clear the overwatch positions before Bravo and Foxtrot Teams could safely engage.
The moment I landed on the other side, my boots hitting the damp soil, my rifle became part of me.
My HK416, a short-barreled configuration, was just an extension of my body.
With the compact and lightweight weapon in hand, I positioned myself next to Reed to take out the four tangos in the distance.
We had the advantage of surprise and NODs, but the element of surprise would end once the cartel learned ángel had set them up, which would be happening within the next sixty seconds.
“Delta Two,” I said to Reed, since he was taking Alex’s place tonight, “you handle the snipers.”
“Roger that,” he answered, and I focused back on my targets.
The cat was about to be let out of the motherfucking bag that we were here, even with suppressed fire.
“This is Delta One. Engaging now,” I let TOC and the other teams know. Thankfully, we could transmit up to four mikes out, and ángel was only three away.
I zeroed in on my mark, angling my body slightly forward in preparation for the recoil, and I fired.
The energy of the shot pushed into my shoulder, and I felt it vibrate into my hand and up into my chest. The suppressor turned the sound into more of a cough than a boom, and nothing else in the world existed other than my need to square up with the universe.
Offer a life for a life. In my mind, for every cartel member I took out, a life on my team was protected and spared.
Muscle memory took over with the trigger as I fired again and again. The vibrations rippled through me, my movements controlled even with the recoil. Spent casings flew out the side, small flashes just outside my peripheral view with the night-vision goggles in my way.
I took a moment and scanned the setting. All four tangos immobilized, but more would soon be coming.
We were holding off on calling up our Black Hawk with Nate on the door gun for as long as possible, doing our best to make this look like a hit by the Sokolovs before they died in the ambush themselves. But it was good to know we had air support on standby if more hostiles flooded the grounds.
“This is Delta Two, snipers are down. Bravo and Foxtrot, you’re clear to advance.”
“This is TOC, Delta Team, you have more tangos exiting on your side of the property. Three hostiles in pursuit.”
“Delta Three and Four, move in now,” I ordered before taking down another target.
“This is Bravo Three. I’m setting up a breaching charge now.”
“Delta One here, roger that.”
Reed kept pace with me, and we advanced to the side of the mansion, watching each other’s backs with the help of Jessica overhead.
“This is Foxtrot One. My team is heading your way now.”
Reed tapped my shoulder twice, and I focused up, and my team flowed inside with precision.
“This is Bravo Five. Our two HVTs are making a run for it. Using tunnels we uncovered. I’m in pursuit.”
The two main targets were ángel’s uncle and cousin, and the plan was a bust if we didn’t take them out.
“This is Bravo Two,” Owen said, “I’ve got your six. I’m on it.”
I trusted their team to handle the marks, and my guys continued to clear the house.
I took another man down, watching the impact.
A center-mass hit. I squeezed off a second round.
Headshot. Controlled bursts. Casings repeatedly ejected as we flowed in.
The clack-clack of the bolt cycling and distant noise of the cartel scrambling for cover filled my ears as I lived in a world of grainy and pixelated green.
The smell of burned powder with the jungle air crept up into my nose.
“This is Delta One, first floor clear,” I let everyone know before we went upstairs.
We were looking for active shooters, ready to be met with gunfire not pressure plates. But not even the best of the best and the most well-trained operators on the planet could go up against a room rigged to blow.
So the last thing I expected was for Reed to warn me about explosives, and then to yell, “Get down!”