Chapter 6
6
He was blaming everything on his dick. That other head had taken over, and he’d been…blameless. Yeah, that was it. He could hear it now. Well, Ice, it was my dick. He took over and that’s why we were late.
Ice would nod sagely and understand completely. He might have been slightly joking, but the truth of the matter was that he had a very good boss in Master Chief Snow. He was an exacting leader but allowed his men to find creative solutions to problems. SEALs were part of a team, that was true, and everything about his eight-man team fulfilled him in every way. It was what drew him to the career choice. Each of them worked in harmony but was also expected to be autonomous. He enjoyed the training aspect of his job as well, learning something new each time he performed a drill or trained. Shooting was a precision effort, and he enjoyed that as well, not worrying about the lives he took. They were enemies of the United States, and his job was to eliminate that threat.
Excuses weren’t going to cut it. Ice didn’t let his dick do the talking unless it was with Rose…and he wasn’t going in that direction because all that stuff that happened in Paris wasn’t his business.
Ice was more of a direct-action guy than even Hazard. He smiled softly to himself, realizing that, in more ways than one, he hadn’t been himself upstairs after nearly making the biggest mistake he swore he wouldn’t make—getting romantically involved while on deployment.
But that had effectively gone out the window. He was now involved with Leigh, wanted to be involved with her, and as a man who had been a problem solver all his life, it was as difficult a problem as Leigh was. He wasn’t the type of guy who half-baked his way through anything. Like with the Navy, he was all in.
But what if the problem solver was the problem?
Dammit .
That twisted up his head, but his anatomy, with a mind of its own, was quite clear. He had to tell his dick sternly, he was working the problem. His dick only smirked knowingly. Yeah, eventually they all give in to that other, more powerful head, and he would be working something hard…later.
She was confrontational, complicated, but in his experience, there was always a reason why people acted the way they acted. Leigh was no different. She affected not only his libido, but a soft side of him that had only been reserved for his mom, or victims he’d encountered over his tenure as a SEAL. He mostly sought out sedate women who enjoyed his company. But from the moment he’d met the sassy blonde, she’d strained even his formidable patience, which contrasted sharply with his normal modus operandi: keep cool, calm, and collected.
Leigh shot that all to hell as was evidenced upstairs in their now-shared room.
He sighed heavily as he looked over at Leigh, then did a double take. She looked worse than she had when she’d been standing in the embassy lobby. He hoped this meeting wasn’t going to last too long. The woman definitely needed sleep.
He understood one aspect of workaholism, but that was because his mother had to work long hours to support them after the death of his father. This did several things to him when he was young. He had to suppress his emotions about how much he needed his mom, aware that she was doing the best that she could, and not adding to her burden by demanding more than she was able to give came naturally to him. He thought about it rationally, or intuitively, maybe. Until his stepfather came into the picture, Hazard was the only person in her life that mattered to her. He knew that without reservation, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He couldn’t seem to turn off his thoughts with Leigh, or his brothers.
Why she was a workaholic wasn’t something he understood yet, but he would.
And he needed a run and a whole session of weightlifting to process everything that had happened between them. But, for now, he had to focus on what was going on in this meeting. It was important to call it, or Ice would have waited until tomorrow.
When they reached the door, everyone was already assembled. He met Skull’s dark eyes, his brows lifting. Hazard gave him a tell-you-later look.
He could see Skull was in a sour mood. He nudged his chin, and Hazard noted that their two Shadowguard nemeses were in attendance.
He nodded. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Booth. Counselor.” His tone was tolerant, but reserved, especially because their CO, Terry “Patch” Patchett, was in the room.
Hazard nodded to his CO with the respect he was due. Commander Patchett had just taken command of the Special Warfare Unit before their deployment, but he and Iceman meshed well. The commander had obviously been briefed on the team’s takedown of No Safe Haven, a monumental feat. His respect for Iceman’s leadership was evident in the leeway he gave their fierce leader.
He held out a chair for Leigh to sit and she took it. He settled in next to her.
“Now that we’re all here,” Patch said, “let’s get the introductions out of the way. I’m Lieutenant Commander Terry Patchett, and I’ve been with the teams for six years, two with DEVGRU. Most people call me Patch.” He turned to Anna. “This is Officer Anna Graham, our CIA liaison and the one who formulates our target packages. We also have as a valuable and knowledgeable consultant not only in this region, but in the drug trade, Jose Molina and a guest from Harvard University, Dr. Nickolas Tremont. His specialty is network and complexity analysis.”He turned to the last person in the room. “This is DEA Agent Angelina Torres. She has a close working relationship with the Colombian National Police and the Colombian National Prosecutor's Office. The DEA can only gather information and collect evidence to be used in US courts or provide assistance with information that leads to drug seizures. They are a resource for the CNP and will continue to carry out that function. Agent Torres will liaise with the CNP in any direct actions we have planned, so that brings us to the reason for this briefing. The interrogation from our money man, Enzo Russo, netted us a target.”
“That’s the news we’ve been waiting for,” Preacher said. “But can we trust this guy?”
Iceman shrugged his shoulders. “As much as we can trust someone who cracked for a more lenient sentence from the Italians. He was looking at quite a bit of hard time from them. They’re doubling down on drug trafficking in a big way.”
“We helped him along,” Anna said. “After deep diving into his business, we discovered that he was sending a lot of money to a small town. We called him on it, squeezed him for hours, and he finally broke down.” She glanced at the two Shadowguard, and Hazard was sure that those two women had put some pressure to bear. Neither one of them batted an eyelash.
“Where?” Kodiak asked, “’cause I’m getting the feeling we’re not going to be happy.”
“San Andres,” Iceman said.
Hazard’s gut clenched, and a soft groan and one distinct, “Hell, no,” came from the guys. He understood exactly why.
“The fucking Darien Gap is a stone’s throw from that town,” Boomer said. Nothing but uninhabited jungle past that place.”
“That’s correct, but we’re not entering the gap. The target is an airstrip next to a production facility for cocaine. Our target says that there are upper-level Alzate management people and intel ripe for the picking.”
“What can we expect by way of the CNP, Torres?”
She straightened. “They will back you up with an eight-man team. It’s already been set. You’ll fly from Bogotá to our mobile TOC, then the team and the CNP will head to the target on foot.”
“To me, it’s a credible target,” Jose said. “Mr. Russo knows the consequences. Giving up any intel puts him in a very bad place with the cartel. They’ll be out for his blood, and they won’t let anything stand in their way. You don’t have much time to hit this place before they pull up stakes and vanish again.”
“Jock up,” Iceman said. “You’ve got thirty minutes. We go in when it’s dark.”
Leigh stood up and Hazard wanted to groan. She had that attorney look on her face, and it was clear she wasn’t happy.
“What the hell is going on here? I should have been informed of this…mission. I understand that the military takes precedence over legal matters when there are suspects and information to gather, but I am the attorney general’s eyes, ears, and authority here.”
“There was no time, Leigh, to brief you before all this went down,” Anna said. “We’ve only come from the interrogation, and we had to act fast.”
Leigh didn’t look mollified.
Hazard pushed back his chair. He was going to need to find a Marine to handle Leigh while he was gone. But before he could take two steps, she piped up.
“Where can I get a vest?” she asked.
He whirled on her. “What? You need to stay here.”
“No, that’s not the plan. I’m going. You might need my expertise, besides…I’m not as helpless as you think.”
Iceman said, “She’s right, Hazard. Commandeer one of the Marines for extra security.”
“I so should have had that cup of coffee,” Leigh snapped, giving him an accusatory glance.
“We can stop by the mess before we leave,” he snapped back, which was so out of character for him. He was Mr. Calm and Collected, but nothing about this woman was in any way normal or predictable. Not at all happy with Iceman’s decision to bring her along, he had no choice and had to oblige. Where they were going was isolated, and poorly policed. Drug runners worked and lived around there for a reason. He didn’t like it, but he was outranked.
“I’ve got her, Hazard,” Anna said. “Come on, I’m going to our lockers. I should be able to find something there for you.” Hazard was reluctant to let her go. She was his charge, but Anna was completely trustworthy and could hold her own, besides she would have the smaller vests to fit Leigh’s body. He gritted his teeth, the memory of how her curves felt steamrolling over him. There would be no time to talk about what happened in the room between them until this fast-moving train they were on slowed down. That wasn’t a bad thing. It gave him a moment to gather his thoughts and decide how he was going to solve this thing between them.
“And a cup of coffee?” Leigh asked hopefully, giving him a rebellious look.
“And a cup of coffee,” Anna said with a smile.
As their plane left the ground, the sun was dipping to the horizon, the sky filled with purple and orange streaks. Leigh, who was sitting between Hazard and Skull, leaned over and asked, “What’s so awful about the Darien Gap?”
Skull studied Hazard. There was something about his interaction with Leigh that fascinated him. Their boy was tough to get to know, but once he let you into his circle, that was that. Hazard wasn’t a big gossip hound like…say Boomer, but he was a savvy operator, would go to the bone for any of them, and cared deeply about what they did as SEALs.
“Hellhole,” Kodiak said.
“Deathtrap,” GQ growled.
“Even the plants are trying to kill you.”
Leigh turned those inquiring eyes toward the last speaker. Boomer.
“We’re not going into the gap, Leigh,” Breakneck said, their youngest member of the team. “They’re just messing with you.”
“You would know FNG,” Boomer said with affection.
“That means Fucking New Guy, but I’m not so new anymore,” Breakneck said.
“Still a baby boy,” GQ said.
“This baby will kick your ass,” Breakneck said, and GQ laughed.
“Anytime, munchkin.”
He was a fresh-faced kid, but he was formidable. He had all the gung-ho attitude you could want in a Navy SEAL and was a lethal sniper to boot, but he was a soft touch when it came to ladies, animals, children, and the elderly.
Skull noticed how Hazard squeezed her hand briefly, and how she withdrew it in seconds. The lady was tough.
From what he could see of Leigh Waterford, she wasn’t spooked easily, didn’t back down from threat or danger. She seemed to have a SEAL mentality. As a federal prosecutor, she had to stand up to the very scum of the earth. A person who did that job couldn’t be faint at heart. He had a feeling that during her time in Colombia, she was going to find what she was made of for real. No safe and secure courtroom, no morning lattes, or surrounded by briefs, legalese, or the law. They were in the stark lawless world where people suffered, lived, and died in a heartbeat with no quarter and no mercy.
His team had learned that lesson the hard way by putting themselves in harm’s way over and over again. No quarter from them, no mercy from them. They would run into the line of fire to get to you, that was a goddamned promise, on their duty, on their honor, on their blood. The brotherhood never faltered, not for one moment, eight guys and a dog, but one beating heart.
As fighting men, they noticed courage, and Leigh Waterford had that elusive trait, earning the beginnings of respect from this team. People who went into battle with monsters, whether in a courtroom or combat needed to be slayers, without fear, possessing genuine, and deep courage.
“The gap stretches from the north to the south coast of Panama, from the Atlantic to the Pacific,” Skull said quietly with an undertone of caution. “There’s no way around except by sea, and no path through. It erases any signs of civilization. People disappear—missionaries, adventure seekers, orchid hunters, conservationists, medical researchers and biologists.” She turned to look at him, and he gave her credit for the steady, unwavering eye contact. “There’s no law there except the law of survival from wild animals, the terrain, the heat, and two-legged predators—guerrillas, drug smugglers, bootleggers, and poachers. They especially profit from the gap’s no-go area.”
“Colombia is purported to be the bloodiest country in the world, but the gap…is an intensely dangerous place, a land and law of its own,” Boomer said.
“No one’s tamed that tropical wilderness—inhospitable environment, not the Scots, Spaniards, or Panamanians,” Kodiak said.
“Is it a place where SEALs fear to tread? The only dirt, air, and water on this planet you won’t go?” Leigh asked.
Iceman, deadpan, his frosty eyes chilling yet somehow reassuring, said, “There’s no place we fear to go.”
“I love the smell of fear in the air,” Preacher said.
Boomer grinned. “If we’re told to go, fuck it, we’re going. We’ll make that green devil our bitch.”
Leigh laughed softly, the strain surrounding the gap not quite broken, but the levity helped to alleviate some of the tension.
When the plane landed, they were directed to a corrugated-metal-roofed makeshift square building with dirt-caked windows and an old, wheezing air conditioner. Skull shrugged off the heat and humidity as they filed into the building, the techs dragging the equipment they would need.
“Not very sturdy or defensible,” Patch murmured.
“No one knows we’re here. We should be in and out without any fuss or muss,” Anna said. “We have a drone for surveillance.”
Patch unrolled a map, and he pointed to a cleared area. “This is the target. It’s about five mikes from here. When you get close, let us know and we’ll scan the area for hostiles.”
“Copy that,” Iceman said.
“Pull up your big girl panties, ladies. We’re heading out,” Boomer said.
“Got my tighty-whities on,” Breakneck said. “How’s your lace and bows, Boomie?”
“Hey, I’m wearing Teflon undies,” Boomer said, his deep voice underscored with humor. “GQ is probably wearing his lace and bows. Goes with all that pinup blonde hair.” He chuckled. “Probably the same fabric covering Hazard’s ass. Am I right, Miss America?”
Hazard looked at Boomer. “I’d wipe the floor with you in the swimsuit competition, you knuckledragger.”
“How about you, Skull?” Boomer asked. “You wearing your Batman, dark knight underoos?”
“He’s wearing a thong. His ass is rock-hard. Bullets bounce off,” Kodiak said, deadpan.
“Iceman?”
“I go commando.” His boss dropped his night vision goggles over his eyes.
“Yeah, he has hoo-yah! tattooed across his ass,” Preacher said.
Skull and the rest of them broke up as they left the ramshackle TOC, the air outside not much worse than inside. The CNP commandos just looked at each other, not understanding the Norte Americano humor. And Hazard with his way too serious face. He lingered in the doorway and Skull nudged him. “She’ll be okay,” he said. “That’s a seasoned Marine.”
“If you say so,” Hazard said. “I don’t like to leave a job I’m given in someone else’s hands.”
“Truer words were never spoken, but we’ll be in and out.”
Hazard glanced back, sighed, then focused up. This wasn’t a walk in the park.
They dropped into single file, five miles an easy trek, even with sixty pounds on their backs. The rhythm, the heat, and the years of working together were just ingrained. He and Bones took point, his pal sniffing the air and doing his job. The wind came up and the dog seemed to have picked up something. He hesitated, and eight ninja gunslingers paused with him, but then he moved on. The CNP took their cues from the SEALs.
Every one of his teammates knew that they could trust Bones. His senses would tell them if there were bad guys, weapons, or explosives. Skull never second-guessed his K9 partner. Besides, the Malinois outranked him.
The trek was uneventful, but when they got to the compound, it was completely dark.
“No movement in the target area,” Jack Morefield, their tactical officer said, over the comms.
“Ah, where’s our target practice?” Boomer said.
“Can it, Boomer,” Iceman said, every nerve in his body in leadership mode. Skull scanned the area, everything visible in the green glow. Dark shadows, unknown situation. Right up their alley.
“Preach, go and get a look-see,” Iceman ordered.
“Copy that,” Preacher slipped from the thick foliage coverage just at the edge of the compound filled with a flat, square, long warehouse, complete with a loading dock, some kind of guard station, and a myriad of chemical dumps around the vicinity. It was right alongside a janky airstrip. The pilot had to have some brass ones to land a plane there.
Preacher’s voice came over the comms. “Nothing moving, boss. No lights, no activity. It’s like a ghost town.”
“And this is the fucking Wild West,” Boomer said.
“Break, set up overwatch and cover our sixes.” Ice’s voice was hard. Skull’s boss didn’t like what could be a major goatfuck in the making.
Breakneck headed for higher ground, making absolutely no noise.
They moved forward, and Bones started to get agitated. Then Skull got that itch—a combat itch—the feel of close and present danger.
“It’s too damn quiet,” he said. “Bones picked up something.”
“TOC,” Iceman said.
“Go for TOC,” Patch replied.
“At target. What does ISR tell us?”
SEALs relied on the small drone that gave them eyes in the sky—Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance, and Skull was grateful for their watchdog.
“Your eyes aren’t deceiving you,” Patch said.
“If that Italian bastard sent us to an empty hole—” Iceman growled. The CNP guys shifted uneasily.
By this time, they’d reached the outer door. Iceman nodded to Boomer, who pulled out a sledge and took care of the lock. They moved inside with precision movements. “Left clear,” GQ said.
“Right, clear,” Kodiak said.
Skull saw a fuse box beside the door. “Ice?”
He lifted his NVGs, and the team followed suit. He shifted the lever up. Light flooded the area. The completely empty area. There was no equipment, no pallets, no chemicals, except for the faint odor that filled the air.
“Son of a?—”
“Ice! Incoming! Incoming,” Breakneck said through the comms, but his words and voice were drowned out as gunfire ripped into the open room. Skull and his teammates hit the deck. After taking cover, Skull popped up and hit the lever, dousing the light as heated pieces of lead bounced and whizzed everywhere. Outside the window, one of the chemical dumps ignited, sending debris, fire, and smoke into the air. The blast smashed windows, buckled the wall closest to it, glass and fragments raining down on them. Skull covered Bones. It wasn’t just an empty hole, it was an ambush, a fucking kill zone.
After Hazard and his team left, Leigh paced back and forth in the sweltering run-down shack they had set up in. Her nerves were as tight as wires. She was eager for this mission to come to fruition, hopefully bagging them more intel, and cartel members or workers to twist information from for any leads.
“You’re going to wear yourself out, ma’am,” the Marine said.
She smiled at him, already worn out in more ways than one. But the coffee had given her a second wind. He wasn’t a kid, but he still looked so young. “My first SEAL mission.”
He nodded. “They are the best at what they do, ma’am.”
“Leigh is better than ma’am,” she said. Yeah, agreeing with him, they were, she thought, pushing not only her turmoil over what had gone on between her and Hazard, but the fact that he was out there, in unknown danger, doing what he was trained to do. She had to rely on the competence of that team, the one who took down NSH.
“Troops in combat!” came over the comms, and Leigh felt the blood drain out of her. That was gunfire…raging gunfire. She’d never heard real combat in her life, and this was terrifying. To think the men who she had… dammit …bonded with were in that kind of danger was almost overwhelming her. Hazard. Oh, God was he all right? “We’re surrounded and?—”
Suddenly, the computer screen went blank, and Iceman’s words were cut off. Leigh tensed.
“What happened?” Patch said. “Get them back.”
Jack manipulated the keyboard. “The drone…it’s not transmitting anymore. I think it was hit.”
“Dammit. Call in QRF.”
“Sir,” one of the techs said, “the cameras aren’t functioning cor?—”
Leigh heard the whistle just before the pressure and flash as an explosion rocked the building, knocking her off her feet, a sharp pain cutting into her side. She had no idea how long she lay there or if she had even blacked out. There was a heavy weight on her, and she shifted, realizing that the weight that hit her and was currently on top of her was her Marine guard. Dazed, her focus blurry, she blinked to clear her vision and gasped hard when she was met with his open and staring eyes above her. Swallowing against the sudden tightness in her chest and the fear that was climbing up her throat, she worked at not falling into full-blown panic as adrenaline pumped into her system.
There was a deafening boom, and the door burst in. Automatic gunfire sliced across the room. Anyone who wasn’t already down crouching for cover was cut down, the others returning fire. She pushed hard on the corporal, but he barely moved. She was getting frantic, and in her struggle turned her head to find Anna not far from her. Her temple was bleeding, her face peppered with small cuts. She wasn’t moving.
Leigh worked harder, fear rising in her, her breathing coming in labored gasps. Finally getting the dead weight of the corporal off her, she crawled over to Anna, dragging her limp body behind cover, meeting Patch’s fierce eyes. He nodded to her. The woman was breathing. Thank, God.
There was a scream, then it was cut off. The gunfire slowed, and when she peeked behind the desk she was crouched behind, she saw glimpses of prone bodies and tangled limbs. Blood was so… red was her only thought. Splattered all over the place, the walls, the tables, the equipment, the floor, and the mangled bodies.
A sickening rush clutched at her, her heart slamming in her chest as her stomach twisted.
“Find her!” a man said in Spanish.
The noise of desks being shoved, and equipment kicked out of the way, scaped across her senses. She was trapped, a terrible feeling twisting inside her. There was nowhere to go.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her hair and dragged her away from Anna. He pulled her around and consulted a photo in his hand. “It’s her, jefe ,” he said.
The man nodded.
“This one’s still alive,” said a man with a scar on his face as he stood over Anna.
Leigh froze and didn’t utter a word, twisting in his grasp, trying not to panic as a strange lost feeling swept through her. He had her wrists in a one-handed grasp and worked his other hand roughly over her body without any care for her modesty. She struggled, kicked back until a man stuck a gun in her face. She lifted her chin, and he aggressively racked the slide. Her reaction was instant. Every muscle locked. Sweat blistered her upper lip, and the only sound was her heartbeat pounding in her chest.
After a moment that stripped her nerves, the man tipped the barrel down, and Leigh stumbled back. Her stomach lurched and, determined not to give them the satisfaction, she fought the urge to fold to her knees and vomit.
The man reached for her, but she shoved him, spun, and punched the man with the gun, then jumped through the hole in the wall.
She ran hard, heading toward the direction the SEALs had walked, anguish filling her for having to leave Anna behind. A gunshot sounded behind her, and she flinched, trying to make her body small, hoping with everything she had that Anna hadn’t been?—”
Something heavy hit her from behind, the impact snapping her head back before she fell hard. Then he was on her, crushing her into the dry dust. She tried shoving him off and wrestled for a moment, his cursing only making her fight harder.
She slapped him, pulled his hair, and then bit him hard. He howled, then whipped out a knife, pushing it in her face so close that if she moved, he would cut her cheek open. She held up her hands in surrender, and he smiled slyly, pressing his hips to hers briefly, sickened by his erection. He got off her and hauled her to her feet. As they dragged her away, something fluttered to the ground.
Her stomach churned, shock filling her as she saw the photo on the dusty ground, that terrible feeling she’d had intensifying. He shouldn’t have her picture. It made her feel queasy, and trapped, and like no part of her life was safe.
She was the target. Oh, God, they had all walked into an Alzate ambush because of her.