Chapter Thirty-Two
The sun dipped over the horizon, casting the mountains in shadow. A fiery band of orange bled into pink, then cooled into the deep blue of the evening sky.
Caleb eased from the back seat of the rental SUV, exhaling against the throb in his chest and back. The over-the-counter pain meds Danny had given him dulled the worst of it.
He adjusted the new tactical vest Ryder had handed over to replace his compromised one.
The air was crisp but not biting. They’d parked, tucked beside a cluster of sagebrush, a quarter mile from the small general aviation airport. Lengthening shadows cloaked their approach.
During the flight, they’d reviewed aerial photos of the facility, and decided security consisted of badge access for vehicles at the gate and a five-foot perimeter fence that was easily scaled.
For once, something was going their way.
Lachlan had opted for handguns—easy to conceal if spotted and easier to explain to law enforcement—but a disadvantage if Lopez had cartel muscle toting semi-autos.
Nathan was the exception. His new toy—a disassembled precision long range AR-15—rested in the backpack slung over his shoulder.
Once they pinpointed Gia’s location, he’d take position on a nearby rooftop, the gunner of last resort. If Caleb and the others failed—if the plane left the han gar—it would fall to Nathan to make sure it never reached the runway.
Stars blinked to life in the deepening sky as they crossed open ground, angling away from the runway zone and the control tower’s line of sight.
The airport was quiet. At this hour, sparsely populated. A few workers moved between the maintenance hangar and fuel depot.
Nathan tracked Gia’s tag to a small metal hanger at the far end of the compound, wedged between larger rectangular buildings built to house multiple aircraft.
After testing their comms, Danny crouched low and crept toward the target hangar.
His whisper crackled in Caleb’s ear. “No movement outside. Bay door’s a single panel hydraulic—no way to lift it from out here. Only other access is a standard pedestrian door at the back, right side. That’s our way in unless we wait for them to open the bay.”
Caleb lowered his gaze to his boots. Even with his poker face, the fear pressing against his ribs was hard to mask.
Not for himself. Not for his team—all former special operators.
For Gia.
“One entry point,” he murmured. “No intel on the number of hostiles. No idea what they’re carrying. No sightline inside. We’re packing pea shooters, and don’t even have flashbangs.”
“Did someone say flashbang?” Nathan unzipped a side pocket, pulled out a black cylinder the size of a shaving cream can.
“Christ.” Lachlan gave a quiet chuckle. “The lad and his toys.”
Caleb took the flashbang, tested its weight, let it settle in his grip.
Their best shot at a dynamic entry without getting shredded on the threshold. “I could kiss you right now.”
“Steady, amigo.” Nathan grinned. “I’m taken.”
Lachlan checked his weapon, pocketed an extra mag. “Let’s get into position.”
Caleb did the same.
Ryder followed suit.
Nathan assembled his rifle with quick, practiced movements. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he eyed the roof of the adjacent hanger. “Give me a boost.”
Lachlan and Ryder braced him as he leveraged onto the sloped metal surface, moving with surprising speed for a man his size. He motioned for the rifle.
Lachlan turned to Caleb. “You take point. I’m secondary. Then Ryder. Danny handles cover and flashbang.”
Caleb led the way to the rear of the hangar. They stacked against the white metal door.
He pressed his ear to the siding.
Voices—male, low, indistinct.
The back of his neck prickled.
Something was off.
He didn’t know what. Just the need to move burned through him, pressing from gut to brain.
“We go in. Now.”
Losing Gia wasn’t an option.
Not now. Not after finding love. After discovering family.
He wanted a future with her.
He deserved that.
So did she. Even more than he did.
They were survivors.
Lachlan squeezed his shoulder.
Ryder stacked in.
Danny shifted to the opposite side. Tested the knob.
Unlocked .
His eyes met Caleb’s. A slight nod.
Ready.
Danny twisted the handle and cracked the door an inch. Pulled the pin.
“Flash out.”
The flashbang sailed inside.
A sharp boom rattled the hanger.
Shouts. A woman’s scream.
Gia.
Caleb flowed into the room, weapon raised, slipping into his training as effortlessly as pulling on a robe.
Blood .
Sickly sweet and metallic.
Death.
Body parts exposed to air that shouldn’t be.
Two men in black crouched over another, reaching for weapons.
Movement at the plane’s cabin door—a male.
A body sprawled in the center of the hangar, blood spreading across a white shirt.
A flash of surprise. Lopez?
Another body slumped near the plane’s nose.
Ortega.
Caleb’s mind processed the carnage in an instant, but one detail took precedence.
Gia.
By the plane stairs.
Eyes wide with fear.
Clawing at the arm locked across her throat.
A gun pressed to her temple.
Caleb shoved do wn the fear clawing at his own throat.
Fear would get Gia killed.
Two shots cracked from his team.
The men in black dropped.
Caleb kept his weapon trained on his target.
Juan.
The cousin. Gia was his shield.
Behind him, Lachlan covered the open cabin door.
Whoever had been there vanished deeper inside.
To his left and right, Danny and Ryder cleared the hangar.
“Let her go.” Caleb’s voice was cold, thrumming with rage he didn’t bother to hide.
Juan’s grip didn’t loosen.
“Why would I do that?” His voice was steady, but sweat glistened under the overhead lights. “She’s my ticket out.”
A figure stepped forward. Older, five-eight. Graying hair.
Cold, dark eyes flicked over Caleb and his team like they were nothing more than lint to be brushed away.
“Open the hanger door or she dies.”
Mexican, judging from his accent.
Caleb’s response was instant. “If she dies, you die.”
The man gave him a shark’s smile. “If I live, she lives.”
Juan held the gun, but this man was in charge.
Caleb studied him. He appeared unbothered by the dead men at his feet—two of whom had been his protection.
A killer. The kind who gave orders, not took them.
Not El Víbora .
Caleb had studied Diego Lopez Becerra’s photos. But the resemblance was there in the remorseless eyes, the straight-edged nose, the cruel line of his mouth.
The brother .
Ramón Lopez Becerra.
“No hostiles outside. I’m in position.” Nathan’s voice was calm and steady in Caleb’s earpiece. “Let him think he has the upper hand.”
“Chaos,” Caleb said, using Danny’s SEAL team call sign. “Open the door.”
Danny backed to the wall, found the controls.
The hangar filled with airport noise as the door lifted.
“Hello, fellas,” Nathan’s voice returned. “Looks like you had fun without me. Eyes on the target.” A pause. “No shot.”
Caleb gave the faintest nod.
Juan was too close to Gia for a clean head shot.
He glanced at Vincente’s body.
Eyes open. Frozen in surprise. Crimson blooming on his once pristine shirt.
Relief punched through Caleb.
Someone beat him to it.
Whether or not Gia admitted it, if he’d killed her ex, it would’ve always lived between them.
Caleb’s gaze shifted to Ortega.
Had Lopez and Ortega turned on each other? A Wild West standoff?
Maybe the rumors he’d seeded—about the Aztec Kings courting Los Coyotes—had done the trick.
Only…no weapons near the bodies.
His attention snapped back to Ramón.
Cold bastard.
The uncle kills the prince to usurp the crown.
“You killed your nephew,” he said.
“Juan did.” Gia’s voice, quiet, unsteady, cut through the chaos.
It was the firs t time she’d spoken since he heard her scream from the other side of the door.
Caleb imagined Lopez’s last moment—betrayed by the person closest to him.
Time to push Juan.
Make the bastard focus on him.
Shift that gun off Gia.
Step away. Give Nathan the shot.
He let his lip curl. “Did you do it for yourself?” He arched a brow. “Or for Daddy?”
“Shut up!” Juan’s gaze darted to his father.
Caleb smirked. “Yeah, we know who calls the shots. It isn’t you. Killed your cousin just to be Daddy’s lapdog.”
“ Callate a la verga! ” Juan flushed red, eyes glassy. His grip on Gia loosened.
That’s right, you bastard. Come after me.
“Enough.” Ramón’s sharp command snapped Juan back.
The senior cartel leader climbed the boarding stairs and turned. “I’ll have the pilots start the engines.”
He eyed Lachlan, Ryder, Danny, then Caleb. “If any of you interfere—including whoever’s outside—she dies.”
“Caleb.” Gia’s desperate plea twisted his gut.
He half-stepped forward.
Juan jammed the gun harder into her temple.
The plane’s engines rumbled to life.
“It’s okay, baby.” Caleb forced his voice to remain calm. But inside, rage clawed at him.
If Gia got on that plane, she wouldn’t come out alive.
The right turbine began to spin.
“SUV inbound. No headlights,” Nathan barked through the comms.
Outside, a car engine growled closer.
Danny and Ryder took up positions by the hangar door.
Lachlan stayed beside Caleb, weapon steady.
The left turbine whined to life.
There was no more time.
Juan hauled Gia toward the stairs. “Come on, puta .”
“Gia,” Caleb shouted over the din.
“I love you,” she cried, eyes shining. In them, a last goodbye.
His heart nearly cracked.
Fight. He mouthed silently. Desperately. Fight baby.
Her eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
Fear became determination.
Gia exploded—kicking and clawing like a hellcat.
Juan cursed in Spanish, trying to choke her off as he dragged her up the stairs.
Caleb edged closer.
“Not hostiles. Repeat—not hostiles.” Nathan was shouting in his ear. “Hold your fire!”
Too late. Juan was nearly inside the cabin.
“Nathan—wide left. Now.”
A plink , then the soft pfftt of Nathan’s suppressed AR. The bullet plowed into the lowered cabin door.
Juan jerked. His grip on Gia slackened.
She dropped—dead weight.