Chapter 10
The water was thick with mud and decay, warm as blood and twice as dense.
Patch lay submerged up to his neck beneath the curtain of low-hanging moss, motionless except for the slow, deliberate breaths through his nose.
The dead gator hide stretched across his back like armor—stitched, strapped, and soaked.
It stank of rot and river, but it camouflaged him perfectly.
The bayou was still, eerily calm, like death had come for him and was about to swallow him whole.
On the far bank, he’d watched McGuire lie belly-down in the brush, a rifle at the ready, north of Savvy. She’d crouched beside a thick base of a bald cypress, face taut, and ready to strike. Oddly, it was a proud moment for him, even if she hadn’t gotten the chance to say those words back.
She’d get the chance. He’d make sure of it.
Riven was tucked behind a felled tree, south of Savvy. This wasn’t his best plan. But it wasn’t his worst.
Patch’s hands gripped the roots along the riverbank, anchoring him in the current. His heartbeat ticked a slow count in his ears. He could feel the weight of the air shifting.
Then he heard it.
A low thrum, mechanical and deliberate. A boat, creeping slowly, just above idle. No chatter. No boys shooting the shit. Just the faint hum of a two-stroke, steadily easing downriver.
The skiff emerged around the bend. Two men. One steering. One on lookout, scanning the banks with the casual tension of someone expecting trouble.
Patch saw the weapons before he saw the faces.
Both men were armed—short-barrel automatics tucked close, ready. Those guns could inflict some damage—more damage than their rifles and handguns. But Patch had something they didn’t.
Knowledge of the bayou and that was something.
He didn’t move. Not yet.
They inched closer, slow and steady. The boat stayed in the center of the water, making this a bit more challenging for Patch.
A splash of a tail from his right. Fucking real gator ducked under the water.
He’d told Savvy if you let them be, they’d leave you alone.
Only that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t sure how big the one that had decided to crawl around the bottom had been.
But if it was bigger than him, he might have a problem he didn’t want to contend with at this moment.
Maybe never. He’d wrestled gators before. But nothing bigger than six feet. Patch could be considered a crazy motherfucker, but he didn’t have a damn death wish.
McGuire’s voice was low, coming from the shadows across the water.
“Wait. Let ’em come in range. Wait. Let ’em come in range.
” At least McGuire knew which alligator was real and which was Patch.
He certainly hoped he’d pointed that out to the girls.
Riven had made it perfectly clear on more than one occasion she didn’t like the animals. Nope, she loathed them.
Savvy hadn’t been too keen on them either.
Truth be told, Patch tolerated their savagery.
The boat drifted closer.
Patch let the moment stretch, breath held, until the boat was nearly even with him—until he could hear the creak of the hull and the muttered voice of the man up front.
Then he moved.
He surged from the water like a breaking nightmare, launching himself up and over the side of the skiff. The man on lookout shouted—a sharp, startled cry cut short as Patch slammed into him, dragging him overboard.
The other man spun, rifle half-lifted—but the boat rocked hard under the sudden shift, throwing his aim. A burst of gunfire cracked wildly across the surface of the river.
McGuire shouted, “Down!” from the bank.
Patch hit the water with the lookout in a full grapple, kicking them both under. Mud and silt exploded around them. The man thrashed, but Patch got the upper hand, wrenching the rifle from him and shoving him toward the shallows.
Back in the boat, the second man steadied—but too late. McGuire fired three times. It wasn’t a warning shot either. He hit the hull of the boat.
“Drop it!” McGuire roared from the shadows. “That boat’s gonna be in the silt in about five minutes. In about ten, those gators over there.” He waved his rifle. “They're gonna be chomping at your feet. I don’t think you want that.”
The second man hesitated—then flung his weapon into the water, hands raised.
Patch hauled himself up onto the sinking boat, dragging the lookout behind him.
“Bring ’em in,” Savvy called.
Riven was already moving, low and fast, covering them.
They reached the shore in a messy, muddy scramble. Patch shoved the first man down on his knees. McGuire guided the second beside him, the gun never leaving his hands.
Savvy stepped closer, face unreadable. Her weapon hovered, steady.
The man on the left—wounded, soaking wet—lifted his head.
“Mendoza?” Savvy questioned with wide questioning eyes.
Mendoza blinked, dazed. “Hey, Savvy.”
She stepped back like she’d been hit, and in two strides, Patch was at her side.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she said. “Instead, you’re gunnin’ for me? You turned on… me?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Mendoza mumbled.
“We always have choices.” Savvy tightened her ponytail and let out a big puff of air.
The other man said nothing. Just watched. Cold. Silent.
Patch turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Do you know this man as well?” he asked Savvy.
She shook her head. “No. He wasn’t part of my team, but if I have a name, I might be able to place him.”
McGuire moved in, rifle raised. “Then it’s time we find out who he is—and why the hell he’s running with ghosts.”
The man met his stare with eerie calm. “Call me Locke.”
Patch didn’t like the way he said it—like he expected to be remembered. “Is that a first name?”
“Does it matter?” Locke asked.
“It fucking matters,” McGuire said. “Now answer the man.”
“Marshall Locke.” The man sighed.
“Jesus,” Savvy muttered. “You ran an op for the 73 with Gunner Watson about seven years ago… and one before that…” Her voice trailed off, eyes wide.
“Yeah, so?” Locke said.
Patch rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like how things kept coming back to Gunner. “How well did you know Gunner?”
“Better than you, Patch.” Locke tilted his chin. “Yeah. I know your name and I sure as hell remember your fucking ugly face too.”
Patch lowered himself, fisting Locke’s shirt. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Operation Yellowjacket.” Locke smiled as if he’d won the damn lottery.
Patch shifted his gaze between Savvy and McGuire. “I don’t remember you.”
“I was blown to bits.” He waved his hand over his face.
He had two massive scars. One on his left cheek that looped from his temple all the way down to his neck.
On the other side of his face were burn marks.
“You weren’t sure I’d make it. I suppose I owe you my life.
” He laughed. Hard. “Thing is, you weren’t supposed to make it back. ”
“Bring these assholes into the cabin and tie them up,” Patch ordered. “I need to get the SATphone. I want to call Darius. I need all the information on Operation Yellowjacket and Savvy’s last mission. They’re linked somehow. I want to read them before we continue the interrogation.”
“They're not connected like you think,” Mendoza said.
“Shut up, man.” Locke glared.
“What difference does it make now?” Mendoza’s shoulders slumped. “If they don’t kill us, they’re gonna turn us over. That’ll be worse than dead.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to tell them shit,” Locke said with a bitter tone.
“Gunner will just send someone else to finish the job,” Mendoza said.
“If they don’t kill you, I will.” Locke jerked his body.
“Why the fuck does Gunner want my sister dead?” McGuire shoved the barrel of his rifle into Locke’s chest.
Locke grinned, lifting his chin. “Go ahead, pull the trigger, you useless piece of shit.”
What a cocky bastard.
“Gunner’s just who we’re taking orders from,” Mendoza said. “Kind of like how Savvy runs Division 73.”
“Are you saying Gunner’s in charge of Black Ledger?” McGuire asked.
“I ain’t saying dick.” Locke jerked his chin upward. “Mendoza, you better shut your trap, or I’m gonna put you six feet under myself.”
“Get these jerkoffs out of my sight.” Patch turned his back and kicked a rock. It went sailing across the clearing and landed on the back of a gator. The water twisted and churned as the alligator dove into the murky water.
The sound of boots hitting the muddy ground prickled Patch’s ears. He spun as Locke took off running.
“Don’t make me shoot you in the back,” McGuire called.
Locke didn’t stop.
Bang!
Locke dropped to his knees. “You motherfucker.” He groaned, grabbing the back of his calf.
“Are you gonna try to run?” McGuire waved his rifle at Mendoza.
“Ain’t worth it.” Mendoza shook his head.
“Stand up and start walking to the cabin.” McGuire nodded toward Patch. “Riven and I’ll deal with tying them up, but we’re gonna need you in there shortly to deal with that bullet wound.”
“He’s not gonna die in the next half hour,” Patch muttered. “Tie it off right above the bullet hole. I need a few minutes with your sister.”
“You’ve got it,” McGuire said.
Savvy leaned against one of the smaller trees. She tugged her hair from her ponytail, running her fingers through the long strands. Her eyes fixated on something across the water. She’d grown quiet. Too quiet.
But Patch had rage in his heart, something he needed to squelch. He shook out his hands and closed the gap. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She readjusted her hair, back in a messy thing on top of her head, her gaze still off in the distance.
“I’m stunned to see Mendoza. I thought he’d been killed.
I blamed myself for his death. And that means the rest of them might still be alive.
” She turned, blinking out a tear. “Including Hale, which is just messing with my mind.”
“The whole thing is screwed up.” Patch ran his hand up and down her arm.
“There’s so much I don’t understand, but one of the biggest ones is why would anyone not want you to come back?
” She visibly shuddered. “There are too many holes to connect all the dots. But it feels like Gunner didn’t want you to come home in anything besides a body bag from Operation Yellowjacket. Why?”
“I don’t have an answer for that.” Patch dropped his hand to his side and glanced toward the sky, as if he could find one there.
“He and I butted heads from the moment we met. He didn’t like the way I did things in the field.
He thought I was reckless. Thought I went too far and I thought that was crazy.
Besides being a soldier, my job was fixing people.
Not leaving them out there to die. I swear, he would give up easily if we’d let him.
But he wasn’t a horrible team leader. We got the job done.
However, the next one I went on with him, I cringed.
I was glad it was my last and your brother took over. ”
“When he first came over to the 73, he was eager to learn. Eager to do anything and everything, but he didn’t like taking orders from me.”
“Yeah, he’s not a fan of women in the field.”
“It wasn’t just that,” Savvy said. “He wanted to head the 73. When I got named, he didn’t take that too well.
As a matter of fact, he went to both Vance and West and put up a bit of a stink.
That’s when Gunner asked to be let out of the 73, and I was happy to say goodbye.
However, he wasn’t thrilled with some of my comments regarding his inability to follow orders, how he tended to go rogue, and a few other things.
He complained about my eval and recommendations to Vance.
I have no idea what went down in that conversation, and I don’t care.
I was just glad that, for the most part, I didn’t have to deal with him.
I ignored where he went. I didn’t care that much.
West and Vance didn’t seem to either, but Vance liked him—that I do know because he did mention he thought I was too hard on him but never asked me to change my report. ”
“In all of this, we learned that Black Ledger was born in the same vein as the 73, but the big difference was Black Ledger has never been sanctioned like the 73.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Savvy shook her head. “While my division is an off-the-books operation, we exist. Congress, the president, every branch of the military, and all the key players are involved. Black Ledger came about because someone decided we weren’t doing our jobs.
When I first learned of it, we thought it was some kind of joke.
But then I had a couple of agents say they’d received encrypted emails from anonymous sources inviting them in.
If they said no, thank you, that was honestly the end of it. ”
“And if they said yes?”
“I don’t know of anyone who did, at least not anyone who admitted it.”
“Do you know anyone who’s been killed in action after saying no?” Patch asked.
“Probably, but I haven’t put all that together. I wasn’t tasked with finding rogue agents until a few months ago, and the only one that had a name was Jenkins.” She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “But we both think that was a setup.”
“And West put you on that?”
“West and Vance.” She nodded. “One of them, or both, has to be a part of all this, and I bet both those idiots in there know.”
“They might not.” Needing to feel her heart against his, Patch pulled her close to his chest. He kissed her temple.
“Your organization runs on honor, trust, and blind loyalty. But the people in it know who they are loyal to—you, West, and Vance. Something running under the radar, whoever started it and is calling the shots with Black Ledger, might just be a voice in the dark. A text message. An email. An order. Gunner could be the face, but he’d also end up being the fall guy if the whole thing went to shit. ”
She tilted her head, staring into his eyes with sheer determination…
and something else. Something warm, kind, and loving.
“I will enjoy taking Gunner down. I don’t care if that means he rots in a military prison or he no longer has a pulse.
But he left the man I love to die behind enemy lines. I take that fucking personally.”
“Aw, you said you love me.”
“Don’t let that go to your head, Patch.”
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s too late for that.”
She glared.
“What?”
“If you ever strap on an alligator hide and decide to swim with those creatures again, I’ll chum the water just for fun.”
“Guess I know who’s playing bad cop.” He laced his fingers through hers and tugged. It was going to be one hell of a long day.