Chapter 4 #2
A few minutes later, the guys dropped the Zodiac CRRC (combat rubber raiding craft) out before jumping.
Parachuting into the sea in the dead of night wasn’t exactly Wyatt’s favorite activity, but he’d do what needed to be done, especially to save Natasha.
“Good to go,” he said once they were in the boat.
They anchored eight hundred meters from shore and changed into their black skin suits and put on their fins.
A.J. stared out at the water. “Any jaws of death out there?”
“This is the sea,” Roman reminded him. “But there have been a few shark sightings in history.”
“You could’ve lied to me, brother,” A.J. said with a shake of the head and secured his goggles in place.
“Then you shouldn’t have asked him,” Wyatt retorted with a laugh, then hopped into the water first.
He peered over his shoulder every thirty seconds or so as they swam, checking to make sure his brothers were good. No surprise sea attacks, thank God.
Once on the beach, they got rid of their fins, peeled off their wetsuits, and hid their gear inside the closest cave with the use of camo netting.
“Tracker is set,” Roman announced after placing the device in their gear inside the cave to transmit their location to Owen for pick-up.
“The house is less than one klick north.” Wyatt eyed the GPS tracker for Natasha’s location and pointed in the direction they needed to head. “Heads on a swivel, guys.”
“Roger,” the guys said in unison, then lowered their night-vision goggles into place and moved into formation.
Normally on an op, he wasn’t thinking about the target.
Not about her hair, smell, the sound of her voice.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Natasha would recognize him.
And would he feel guilty when he pulled the classified card and lied about who he was and what he truly did for a living? She lied, he reminded himself.
And he’d lied to every woman he’d met since he started working directly for POTUS in 2013. But the night he’d met Natasha, he’d opened up, allowed more honest words than normal to roll smoothly from his tongue.
Wyatt returned his focus to the op and held up a gloved fist while stopping, signaling to the guys to stay put. He checked the satellite feed on the screen on his wrist. “Two vehicles parked outside the building, and we’ve got movement on the east side of the home and near the north entrance.”
Wyatt set his eyes on the property up ahead, which appeared as if it’d barely survived a drone strike or a bombing in recent years.
“The place looks like it’s being held together by some strong-ass glue and maybe prayers,” A.J. said over comms.
“Yeah, keep that in mind when we go in,” he responded into his mic.
“I don’t want it collapsing on anyone.” Wyatt directed his guys to filter out to their designated positions.
The plan was to storm the home as quickly as possible to maintain the element of surprise.
“This is One. North guard down,” he announced after firing a suppressed shot.
“This is Four. East guard down,” Roman said next.
“Infil now,” Wyatt gave the order, and his team breached as planned.
A rickety old ladder was perched at the backside of the house, and Chris, Echo Three, maneuvered up the thing like a damn ninja to get to the second floor. Once he was in position, the rest of the team split up to infil the home from the front and back.
It was a classic ambush. A quick in and out before the sons of bitches knew what hit them.
Just another Friday.
His guys popped out rounds with precision with their suppressed M4s, taking down three tangos inside. Where was the last guy?
“This is Three. Second level clear,” Chris announced.
Wyatt did a quick scan of the interior. The building was free of furniture. The definition of open concept. Half the roof, including part of the second floor, was missing when he glanced up to see the pitch-black sky.
He moved his NVGs out of his way and used the light on the rifle to guide him as he maneuvered around the empty space.
“First floor clear.” Where the hell are they?
“Shit, there’s a tunnel back here,” A.J. said over comms. “Going—” He let go of his words, and Wyatt rushed to his location.
A.J. yelled out something a moment later, then Wyatt spotted him walking backward out of the tunnel entrance with his hands up.
Wyatt lowered his M4 at the sight of Natasha and the contractor exiting the old arched tunnel entrance side by side. Jack London had a rifle aimed at A.J.
With Echo Two in his camo gear without the American flag on his chest, it’d be harder for Jack to recognize A.J. as one of the good guys.
“We’re Americans.” Wyatt let go of his rifle, allowing the sling to catch it, so he could demonstrate he wasn’t a threat. “Admiral Chandler sent us.”
Natasha’s eyes darted his way, and she stepped forward, mouth agape.
She looked unharmed, thank God.
“So, definitely not a telecommunications specialist, then,” he mused, doing his best not to smile given the situation.
“And you’re not retired.” Her voice cracked in surprise.
He didn’t exactly blame her. He’d come in looking like Rambo—okay, he wished he was Rambo because the man was basically a badass and who wouldn’t want to be him?
—but yeah, surely seeing a guy she’d almost slept with at her ex’s wedding had to be a surprise.
But . . . how in the hell had she known he’d retired? “You, uh, okay?”
Jack lowered the shitty modified AK with a 100-round drum attached to it he’d probably swiped from the AQIM soldier. “We’re not injured.”
Wyatt peered back at Natasha who was still staring at him.
Not quite a deer-caught-in-headlights look but close enough.
She had a red headscarf hanging loosely around her neck, which accentuated her blonde hair.
Her clothes were about on point with Jessica.
Plain long-sleeved shirt and denim. Barely any makeup.
“We’re fine,” she murmured. “Who do you work for?”
“Private contractors,” A.J. replied before Wyatt had a chance to lie. “There wasn’t time to get another team here, and we were nearby.” He extended a gloved hand. “Glad to see you both alive.”
“What happened in the tunnel?” Wyatt asked.
“Some asshole shoved us in there, but Jack handled him and got our zip ties off.” She peered around the open space. “I assume you killed everyone?” A bite of irritation moved through her tone.
She wanted someone alive to interrogate. Of course. He didn’t blame her, but his priority had been to rescue her and Jack.
Natasha crouched next to one of the dead arseholes and patted him down. “Nothing.”
She was alive and safe. Didn’t appear to be shaken up at all.
How long had she been with the Agency?
“We’re ready for extraction, Bravo Two,” he alerted Owen over his radio.
“Five mikes out,” Owen answered.
“We need to get a move on it. Got a helo coming in to pick us up a klick from here.” Wyatt motioned for Natasha and Jack to exit.
“Someone might have something of use.” She’d already moved on to her second body, checking the man’s pockets.
“We don’t want to wait around and see if these arseholes might have had a chance to send for backup.” Wyatt crouched across from her and extended a hand. “Please.”
She ignored his palm and sputtered, “Just one more second.” She pushed upright and started for the other body before he could protest.
“Hey, just got word from Jessica,” Chris said, barreling toward them. “It looks like we’re going to need to do a rapid extract. Got three heavily armed Jeeps heading for our position.”
“Time to go.” Wyatt swirled a finger in the air, motioning for them to head out. “Now,” he added when Natasha was still bent over a body.
“Tasha!” Jack snapped.
“I got a phone!” She stood upright and peered at Wyatt. “Now we can go.”
He shook his head while keying in his mic. “Bravo Two, prepare for a rapid extract.”
“Roger that, One,” Owen answered over the radio.
“Stay between us,” Wyatt ordered once outside.
The rocks and sand kicked up beneath their boots as they sprinted. “What’s the status on our incoming, Three?” he asked Chris as they closed in on the beach.
“Two mikes out, let’s make this snappy,” Chris responded.
“Whoa! Wait,” Natasha said once they’d made their way to the beach. She spun around to face Wyatt. “You can’t be serious.”
A thick black rope dangling from the Black Hawk wiggled just above their heads, and he pointed to it, signaling for her to attach herself. “We can’t land. Just clip on, and the pilot will take you to a nearby naval ship.”
“You did paramilitary training at the Farm, you can handle this.” Jack tapped her in the side as he took the harness from Wyatt. “You can clip to me. I’ve got you.”
Wyatt eyed her as Jack secured Natasha to his body and clipped himself to the rope. He did his best to fight the odd feeling swirling around in the pit of his stomach. What in the hell was that?
He barely knew her, but damned if he swore jealousy was kicking him in the nuts at the sight of her breasts smashed to Jack’s chest as he positioned his other hand around her back.
“They’re ready,” he said into his radio, alerting Owen they were prepared to exfil.
Natasha looked back at Wyatt as he began slipping into his wetsuit. “You guys aren’t coming with us?”
“We’ve got a boat.” Part of him wanted to stay back and handle the Jeeps full of bad guys, but his orders had been strictly for a rescue op. “We’ll meet you at the ship,” he said before he changed his mind, “and we’ll all board the bird and fly into Ibiza together.”
“Spain?” She brought her hands to Jack’s chest and pushed as if she could get away, but they were strapped together, and the helo was beginning to lift. “No, I can’t go to Spain! Let me down! Damn it, guys. Let me . . .” Her words died in the air as Owen swept them away.
“Shit, brother. She’s gonna kill us on that ship,” A.J. said with a laugh.
“We might have to knock her out with something to get her to Ibiza,” Finn remarked as they prepared to go into the sea before the AQIM reinforcements got to them. “Looks like the extract part is gonna be a walk in the park compared to keeping her captive on the island.”
“You gonna tell the admiral we couldn’t get his daughter to follow orders?” Chris held both palms in the air and then turned for the sea. His fins slapped the sand as he moved to the water. “Good luck with that.”
“Well,” A.J. started, “now that I’ve met her, I’m betting that woman’s one hell of a kisser. Maybe you can use your tongue to convince her to stay.”
“A.J.,” he warned just as the pop-pop-pop of gunfire sprayed in the distance. “I guess since they found us,” he began while securing a hand on his rifle, “we should stick around and take out these terrorist arseholes before we go.”
A.J. grinned. “Hooyah, brother.”