Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“This is bullshit!” Safe swore. “I can’t believe Tex can’t track him.”
Kevlar was just as frustrated as the rest of his team. When he and Blink had lost track of Smiley at the port, they’d contacted the others, but even with their help searching, it seemed as if their teammate had disappeared into thin air.
The only good thing about the situation was that they were pretty sure Smiley had found Bree, and the two were together.
They’d seen the “Missing Person” signs around the port, and deduced that Smiley must have come across Bree at one of the docks, and wasn’t able to contact Kevlar or Blink before being forced to disappear for their own safety.
Kevlar had thought it would be a simple matter of getting with Tex and having him direct them to where the two had holed up. But there was something wrong with the tracker Smiley had on him. It wasn’t transmitting.
The swear words that had come out of Tex’s mouth had been impressive.
He was apparently done with external trackers, threatening to have every SEAL and Delta operative injected with tiny microchips that wouldn’t malfunction just when he needed them to work the most. But that wouldn’t help them at the moment.
And now, the violence in the country had ramped up a thousandfold.
Stepping outside the motel put all their lives at risk, especially since they were obviously foreigners and didn’t belong in the neighborhood.
That didn’t keep any of the SEALs from doing what they could to search for their teammate, but it definitely made it more challenging.
And to top it off, Smiley had no equipment with him.
Clearly no comms to talk to the rest of them, no extra ammunition, no food or water.
As far as Kevlar knew, Smiley and Bree were literally on some of the most dangerous streets the team had seen in quite a while, with only a knife, a pistol, and years of experience.
It would have to be enough.
“It is bullshit,” Kevlar agreed. “But we all know Smiley is the toughest son-of-a-bitch on the team. If anyone can navigate this FUBAR’d situation, it’s him.”
“But we have no idea what condition Bree is in,” MacGyver countered. “Of course Smiley can handle himself, but having Bree with him is a liability.”
“That’s fucked up,” Preacher said in a pissed-off tone.
“I don’t mean it in a disrespectful way.
But think about Julie and Fiona, what Kevlar said they were wearing when they found them.
They didn’t have any fucking shoes on. And if Smiley did find Bree, she’d been captive on a fucking boat for days.
We have no idea what her mental state is, never mind her physical one.
And we all know Smiley will do whatever he has to in order to make sure she’s safe. That makes her a liability.”
MacGyver was right. And that sucked. Kevlar sighed. “We need to go out again. See if we can cover more ground. Start south of the port and work our way outward.”
“It’s gotten worse out there just since this morning,” Flash stated unnecessarily.
“The government has declared a state of emergency,” Blink added.
“I know!” Kevlar snapped. “You think I don’t?
We don’t have a choice. We’re flying blind but I’m not leaving Smiley out there to find his way back on his own.
We didn’t get a chance to go over maps of the area and we all know he has the worst sense of direction.
For all we know, he’s halfway to fucking Quito by now. ”
Not surprisingly, all the men in the room chuckled. Kevlar wasn’t saying anything the rest of them didn’t know. Smiley was a mean asshole, and he was an amazing shot. He had more bravery in his little finger than most men did in their entire bodies.
But he had zero sense of direction.
“No one goes out alone. Stay together. And for God’s sake, keep your tracker on you at all times. The last thing I need is any of you guys going missing with no way to fucking track you,” Kevlar bitched.
Everyone nodded their agreement.
“Everyone takes a pack with medical supplies and extra food and water. When we do find them, we have no idea what condition they’ll be in.
Stay in the shadows. We don’t want to come on the militia’s radar.
We don’t need to be their targets, along with every-fucking-thing else we have going on.
Find Smiley and Bree and get the hell out. That’s our mission. Understood?”
“Hoo-ah!”
“Affirmative.”
“Hell yeah!”
Kevlar had confidence in his team, but this situation was way too fluid for his liking.
They had no idea where to start looking for Smiley and Bree.
The atmosphere in the streets was volatile.
And the last thing they wanted was to get in the middle of a hostile takeover of the government.
Tex and the women working with him could get them out of the country, but if things continued in the direction they were going, it was likely planes would be grounded and it would become more and more difficult to be extracted.
As the men got ready to head out and continue their search, Kevlar sighed. “Where are you, Smiley?” he murmured.
Smiley was frustrated. He had no clue where he was. He had a feeling he was walking in circles. No, it wasn’t a feeling. He knew he was going in circles, as he recognized a building he’d passed for the second time.
His team would be giving him so much shit right now.
He’d never wished so hard for a compass, or to have Preacher or MacGyver at his back.
Feeling as if he was letting Bree down completely—any one of his teammates would have found the motel they were staying at by now—Smiley’s responses to her infrequent questions had gotten more and more curt.
She hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes or so, as Smiley tried to figure out if they’d already been down the current street yet or not. Nothing looked familiar, so he had to hope that he hadn’t gotten them turned around, again.
A quiet noise to his left had him looking over at Bree. He was appalled to see tears on her cheeks. Her swollen eye had looked a little better earlier, but he imagined it was still difficult to see out of. And now she was crying? Fuck.
“Bree?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.
“I’m fine,” she told him, trying to tug him forward, to no avail.
Smiley backed her up against the wall of a building and bent his head, trying to catch her gaze. But she was staring at his chest and refused to look at him.
“Talk to me,” he ordered gruffly.
She sighed and wiped her cheek with her shoulder. “Why? You’ll just get madder.”
“Mad? I’m not mad.”
She snorted.
“Okay, I’m not mad at you.”
“I’m sorry, Smiley. You shouldn’t be here at all.
I don’t know what I could’ve done differently, but maybe if I was smarter, or stronger, or something…
we wouldn’t be here now. Lost in the middle of some kind of uprising.
You wouldn’t have had to kill those people at the port or conked those other men on the head.
You wouldn’t have had to steal these clothes from someone who probably needs them more than me.
Your stomach wouldn’t be growling because you made me eat that entire loaf of bread by myself. ”
Smiley was distraught by what he was hearing. Looking around, he desperately searched for a place where they could sit and rest. And talk. He’d fucked this up, obviously, and he needed to fix it. Immediately.
Without a word, he picked up Bree and held her against his chest. It was unconscionable that he was wandering around fucking lost while Bree, who was weak from lack of food and water, and injured, had to stumble around after him.
“Smiley!” she protested, even as she looped her arm around his neck.
As he walked toward what he thought was an apartment building, Smiley got an idea.
He wasn’t getting anywhere walking around on the streets; the only thing he was doing was exposing both of them to the eyes of civilians who could make a call to the number on that fucking flier.
Smiley wasn’t going to let anyone take Bree. No way in hell.
He needed to get off the streets, figure out where the hell they were and which direction to go, while staying under Castillo’s radar. He needed to get a lay of the land. Figure out a plan. And let Bree get some stress-free rest.
So…he was going up.
He should’ve done this hours ago. He’d get to the top of this building, where hopefully there’d be access to the roof.
“Smiley!” Bree said again. “I can walk.”
“But you aren’t going to,” he said.
He entered the lobby of the building and grimaced.
It was trashed. Broken glass, refuse, rotting food.
This obviously wasn’t a five-star apartment building, but then again, he hadn’t expected it to be in this neighborhood.
Thankfully, no one was in the lobby as Smiley strode toward a door with a sign over it, depicting a stick figure seeming to float above a set of stairs.
He kicked open the door, relieved that it really was a stairwell.
“Where are we going?” Bree asked.
“Somewhere we can regroup. Sit and rest in peace,” Smiley told her.
“I’m too heavy for you to carry. Put me down,” she insisted.
Smiley snorted as he recalled the weight of the packs he’d carried on some of his missions. Not to mention the gear they always wore. He barely felt the two rifles he had slung across his back. Carrying Bree was no hardship.
He hoped it was a good sign that they didn’t run into anyone on the way up. When they reached the top, there was a single door. He lowered Bree’s legs and held on to her for a moment, making sure she wouldn’t stumble or fall. Then he pushed her behind him as he reached for the door handle.
Holding his pistol in his free hand, ready for trouble, Smiley held his breath as he opened the door. Sunlight streamed into the stairwell, momentarily blinding them both.
Blinking…Smiley’s heart dropped.