Chapter Thirty
Caleb managed to get his breath back.
He hobbled around the outside of the dilapidated hogan, stretched to keep from stiffening up, and compartmentalized the pain, because there was no way in hell he was sitting out Gia’s rescue.
He’d stripped off his shirt, tactical vest, and undershirt, letting sweat evaporate in the dry desert air. A swollen red patch, roughly the size of his fist, decorated his sternum, and the ache in his mid-back told him he had a matching one there.
The vest had done its job, though. The sun beat down on his bare shoulders, and though his naturally tan skin could take more than some, he’d burn if he stayed uncovered too long.
Flies swarmed the two corpses, the stench of blood and brain matter churning his gut, dragging him back to war memories he’d rather leave buried.
He yanked the tarp from Zach’s car and dragged the smaller driver toward the bodyguard.
Pain flared through his torso and shoulder with every strained movement, but he gritted through it, covering both bodies.
It didn’t take long for Danny to return, jogging down the side of the slope from where Zach had taken up overwatch. The SEAL was out of breath and sweaty, the black duffel slung over his shoulder stuffed with the SCAR rifle, their handguns, and ammunition.
“Roy and Ford are taking Zach and Jennie to the hospital,” Danny said. “Zach took a hit to the shoulder, got some shrapnel to the face, but he’ll live.”
Thank God.
Relief lightened the pressure in Caleb’s chest. He and his cousin had a relationship now—one he intended to hold on to.
He winced as he slid back into his shirt. “Where the fuck did that helicopter come from?”
“Not Gallup. Zach called his contact while we were dragging him to Roy’s truck.” Danny nodded at the bodies. “What do we do with them?”
“Leave them. We don’t have time. They aren’t going anywhere.”
Danny beat him to the Charger. “You better let me drive.”
Caleb didn’t argue. “Can we track the helo?”
“I fired off an SOS to Nathan. Helicopters don’t have to file flight plans, but if anyone can locate it, Nathan can.” Danny tossed the duffle into the trunk and slid behind the wheel. “He hasn’t responded yet.”
He started the engine and hit the gas. The muscle car leaped forward. “Any idea where Lopez might take Gia?”
“My money’s on Mexico. I don’t think he’ll risk Miami.” Caleb stifled a groan when the Charger hit a pothole. “Either way, they’ll have to refuel or switch aircraft somewhere.”
If Lopez secreted Gia over the border, it would become exponentially harder to bring her home. He needed to find her—fast. “How quickly can we get a plane?”
Danny shot him a side-eye. “Dude, you just took a couple of rounds. You may not be leaking, but you’re in no shape to mount a rescue operation over the border—especially an unsanctioned one.”
“I’ll go alone if I have to.” Caleb’s jaw flexed. “I’m not leaving her with that bastard.”
“You’d neve r make it into the compound,” Danny said grimly. His phone chirped.
He glanced at the screen and passed it to Caleb. “Damn. Nathan works fast.”
Caleb read the message.
Intel says Lopez headed to Mexico through Phoenix airport. Plane waiting for you at Gallup.
He looked up. “Danny, better to ask forgiveness than permission. Let’s see how fast this car goes.”
They made the fifty-minute drive in thirty and were escorted to a ramp area where a Gulfstream waited, engines humming.
As they approached, the cabin door dropped to unfold air stairs. A tall, dark-haired man in a navy suit stood just inside.
Caleb’s stomach knotted.
FBI Assistant Director Lucas Caldwell.
What the hell? If the Feds were involved, his hands were tied.
Lucas looked as happy as Caleb felt. Then again, Caleb wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the former Army colonel turned Fed smile—unless his goddaughter, Nathalie, or her mother, Vivienne, were in the room.
“Lopez has a hostage on board—Doctor Gianna Barone. My priority is to get her back, unharmed, before he can take her to Mexico,” Caleb said as he and Danny mounted the stairs.
He ducked his head to step into the cabin—and stopped short.
Lachlan Mackay, founder and president of Dìleas Security Agency, sat in one of the plush tan leather seats, dressed in black trousers and a crisp white button-down.
Across the aisl e, Nathan Long hunched over an electronic tablet, his usual uniform of a black metal band t-shirt and faded jeans making him look more like a roadie than a corporate VP.
In the seat facing Lachlan was Ryder Montague, head of executive protection, and Caleb’s direct superior. The last time they spoke, Ryder had been in London. Like Lachlan, Ryder wore dark trousers and a button-down—his in pale pink.
“Sorry we’re late, pal. But we’re here now.
” Lachlan’s emerald gaze swept over Caleb, his Caithness accent slightly thicker than usual.
At first glance, the former British SAS officer looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ —until you noticed the white scars on his temple and chin, and the hard glitter in his eyes.
Caleb blinked furiously, swallowing hard against a swell of emotion. “Thanks.” It was all he could manage. Anything more and he might choke on the words.
His colleagues—his friends —had come.
“Let’s get moving,” Lucas said. “I have a joint FBI and DEA task force at the Phoenix airport. They’re waiting to execute an arrest warrant for Vincente Lopez Garcia for the murder of DEA agent Antonio Cardenas. Doctor Barone will need to testify as a material witness.”
“I want in on the assault team.” Caleb carefully lowered himself into one of the plush leather seats, his body stiffening.
He ignored the Assistant Director’s glare. No way would Caldwell leave him sitting on his hands while Gia was still in danger. The Feds could have Lopez, as long as he got Gia safely back.
Nathan chuckled. “Come on, Lucas. You’ve got an elite international special operations squad right here.”
Caldwell’s glare shifted to the big Texan.
“If we could track the helicopter, we’d know exactly where they were headed,” Ryder added.
Track .
Caleb straightened, pulse spiking. “Nathan, how close do you need to be to track one of those skin tags you gave me?”
Nathan side-eyed Lucas, lips pursed. “Well…” The word dragged out slow.
Lucas sighed. “I have to use the latrine.”
He headed for the back of the plane, passing the lone male flight attendant in a navy-blue uniform, who lingered at a discrete distance.
“The smallest dual-frequency GPS tags officially on the market are the size of a credit card or key fob.” Nathan lowered his voice. “What I’ve got? Same tech, military grade, in a microchip. Off the books. Not even the government has these.”
“Meaning?” Caleb pressed.
“Meaning if you tagged her, and she’s still wearing it, I can track her anywhere she’s in GPS or satellite range.” Nathan swiped and tapped on his tablet. “I gave you three tags. Two are pinging at the safe house. The third,” he paused.
Frowned.
Swiped again.
Caleb’s shoulders went rigid. “What is it?”
Lucas reappeared just as the flight attendant stepped forward. “Gentlemen, the pilot needs you seated for departure now.”
The plane started to taxi.
Nathan looked up. “She’s still in the air.” He glanced at Lucas. “But she’s not heading toward Phoenix.”
“That can’t be right,” Lucas snapped.
Nathan angled his screen. “She’s tracking toward Albuquerque.”
Lucas whipped out his phone.
“Gentlemen, please,” the flight attendant tried again.
“You’ve con firmed Vincente Lopez Garcia is heading to Phoenix?” Lucas said into the phone, then listened, his eyes narrowing. “And you’ve got eyes on the aircraft. The N-number matches the one that left Miami this morning.”
Another pause. “I’ll be there in an hour. Do not move in until I give the order.”
He hung up and motioned to the flight attendant. “Tell the pilots to stand down.”
Lachlan was already moving to relay the message. By the time he returned to his seat, the plane had rolled to a stop.
“Lopez isn’t going to Phoenix.” Caleb’s leg bounced up and down, his fingers tapping the armrest on his chair.
Every minute that slipped away took Gia further from him.
“I know.” Cold anger radiated from Lucas. “But the head of the joint task force insists Lopez’s plane is sitting in a private hanger at Phoenix Sky Harbor and ATC monitored chatter has a civilian helicopter heading to Phoenix from this direction.”
He pulled a leather wallet from his suit jacket and stalked toward the cockpit.
Caleb rose, swallowing a groan as his body protested, and followed.
“Contact the tower.” The Assistant Director flashed the pilots his credentials. “I need the call sign and N-number of the plane that landed this morning from Miami. I also need the flight plan the pilots filed before the plane left Gallup.”
The captain checked Lucas’s ID, glanced at his co-pilot, and picked up the mic.
A moment later, the tower came back with the details. The plane’s N-number matched the flight that left Miami, but the flight plan—revised shortly before the plane’s departure—listed its destination as a small general aviation airport outside Albuquerque.
“I need to de plane. Immediately,” Lucas told the captain.
He returned to the group, Caleb on his heels. “The Phoenix task force has been compromised. If I loop them in, someone could tip off Lopez.”
Lucas scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t authorize a hostage rescue without proof that Doctor Barone is at the Albuquerque site—and that she’s being held against her will.”
“We have eyes on her,” Caleb gritted out. His fists clenched. “In real time with the tracker she’s wearing.”
“Using technology that technically doesn’t exist, Sergeant?” Lucas snapped, invoking Caleb's former Army rank. “I can’t get a warrant with that—especially when my own damn agents insist she’s headed to Phoenix.”
The flight attendant unlocked the cabin door and engaged the automatic air stairs.
Lucas clasped Lachlan’s shoulder. “Officially, I’m advising you to return to DC.”
He dropped his hand to grab the overcoat draped over his seat. “Unofficially, I’ll send a team as soon as I can. But it may be too late. Be careful. And good luck.”
“Where are you going?” Caleb asked.
“To charter a flight to Phoenix. Lopez’s mole expects me there. If I don’t show, they’ll know I’m onto them.” Lucas’s mouth set in a cruel line. “I need to unearth a traitor.”
Caleb watched the Assistant Director descend the stairs, then turned to Lachlan. “We need to leave for Albuquerque. Now.” Tension pulled his muscles taut, his temper balanced on a razor’s edge.
Lachlan met Nathan’s eyes.
A nod.
Then to Ryder.
Then Danny .
Two more nods.
“Go tell the pilots to change the flight plan,” he instructed Caleb. “To Albuquerque International Sunport, not the smaller airport—we don’t want to alert Lopez.”
The to Nathan, “Driving time between the Sunport and our target?”
More swipes on the tablet. “Twenty-six minutes,” Nathan told him.
Lachlan nodded. “Get us two SUVs for when we land.”
“Weapons?” Caleb asked. “I’ve got my Glock and Danny’s backup Sig.”
“I’ve got a Glock and the SCAR-Heavy rifle,” Danny added.
Caleb’s shoulders tightened. “That's not enough.”
A faint smile twitched Ryder’s lips. “We may have packed extra luggage.”
Caleb sank into his seat, relief making his legs weak.
The adrenaline crash left every muscle throbbing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the fear that they’d arrive too late and Gia would be gone.
Over the border.
Out of reach.
He took out his phone and sent a text to his grandfather before he had to turn on airplane mode.
Zach and Jennie are at the hospital. Lopez has Gia .
Something Ben Blackwater likely already knew.
Caleb had gotten his cousin shot. Put his grandfather in a terrible position.
And the two dead cartel soldiers he'd left behind?
He’d have som e explaining to do.
Keep everyone away from Old Joe’s. I’ll be back as soon as I have Gia.
A lump formed in his throat.
I’m sorry.
The realization hit hard.
He cared what his grandfather thought of him.
I’ll see you soon.
The plane lifted, engines roaring as the earth fell away beneath them.
“How long?” he asked the flight attendant.
“To Albuquerque? Forty minutes. We’ll barely be up before we’re coming down again.”
Two foil packets landed in Caleb’s lap.
Danny settled across from him. “Snagged those from the first aid kit. Figured you could use them.”
“Thanks.” Caleb opened the water bottle in his seat’s cup holder and swallowed the pills.
“You good, bro? Even with a vest, two rounds hurts like a motherfucker. Sure you don’t want to sit this one out?”
Caleb glared at his friend. “I’ll rest when I’m dead. That plane isn’t leaving with Gia on it.”
Danny held up his fist. “Hooyah to that.”
Despite the pain, the fear, the burn of urgency, Caleb smirked and bumped knuckles with Danny. “It’s hooah , you squid.”