Chapter 18 #2
“I’ll contact Hunt,” Ace said. “Get the SFPD looking for the car.” Ace drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I missed her call when you guys were taking down the truck. Her friend Harry spotted the painting being loaded into a truck.”
Rhys bit back his frustration. He knew it wasn’t Ace’s fault, but he wished that Ace had taken the damn call. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on finding her.”
She should never have left the apartment. When he got her back, he was going to tan her sweet ass.
If he found her in time.
He dragged in a breath. “I gave her a necklace. It has a tracker in it. Ace, can you activate it?”
Saxon raised a brow. “You put a tracker on your girlfriend? Man, you have balls.”
“I was ensuring my woman’s safety.”
“Did you tell her?” Saxon asked.
“Hell, no.”
Vander shook his head.
“I got it,” Ace said. “It’s showing that she’s in…Napa.”
“Napa,” Rhys breathed.
“Volkov has an estate there,” Vander said.
“Yeah,” Ace added. “Confirmed. She’s at Volkov’s estate.”
Rhys’ hands curled into fists. The fucker was going down. “I’m going to kill him.”
It would take well over an hour for them to drive to Napa. Too damn long.
“Ace, get the helo ready,” Vander ordered. His cool gaze swept over them. “We’ll get back to the office, get prepped, then go in hot.”
“Nice,” Rome murmured. His teeth flashed white as he grinned.
Rhys jumped back on his bike. Soon, they were all back at the Norcross office, in the team locker room off the gym.
It didn’t take them long to get ready since they had already prepped for the truck breach. Rhys pulled on a Kevlar vest and strapped it on. Next, he pulled an M4 assault rifle out of the weapons locker. It was what they’d used in the military.
He turned, finding Vander, Saxon, Rome, and Easton all ready, the same as him.
They headed up to the roof, where a helo—a sleek, black Sikorsky—was waiting for them.
Vander waved to Magdalena “Maggie” Lopez through the cockpit window. Vander had lured the young pilot away from the Navy. The woman was always smiling, swore like a sailor, and was brilliant at the controls of a helicopter.
They all boarded, and a moment later, they lifted off and swept over the city, then the bay, heading northeast.
It was like the old days, heading off on a mission. For a second, Rhys saw desert below. Then he blinked, and Alcatraz Island appeared.
This wasn’t a Ghost Ops mission. This one was much more important—saving Haven and bringing her home.
Rhys tried not to fidget on the flight. But as San Francisco Bay gave way to San Pablo Bay, the pressure built inside him—the noise, the fear—it all curdled together. He tapped his boot on the floor.
Be okay, Haven. Be fucking okay.
Vander touched his knee. Rhys looked up at his brother, then Easton, then the others. They all gave him steady looks. They had his back. They had Haven’s back.
He wasn’t alone, and his woman was smart, resilient, and resourceful.
He nodded.
“Hold on, baby,” he murmured.
Soon, the grapevines came into view. They spread out over the hills in long, marching rows.
Maggie brought them in lower. He saw Vander’s mouth moving, and knew he was talking with the pilot.
They circled around Volkov’s estate, and Vander pointed. Rhys took in the sprawling house.
His focus solidified, zooming in on the mission objective. Rescue Haven.
Maggie flew them away from the house. They didn’t want to alert Volkov and his goons. A helicopter flying in Napa was common enough. The helo touched down on a flat area of grass near some sheds. They exited, and moved into formation, weapons up.
“Shoot to incapacitate,” Vander said.
They moved silently and fast, covering the distance to Volkov’s quickly. They approached the house, circling a large pool.
A guard appeared, raising his weapon, and Vander took him down with a shot to the leg. It took Saxon seconds to disarm and secure the man.
The team split up. Vander and Rhys went left around the house, while the others went right.
Rhys ran into two more guards, and he felt savage satisfaction in taking them both down with several hard hits and punches.
He and Vander left the men trussed up.
They approached a long bank of French doors. Rhys peered into a large living area, but no one was in view.
He pointed farther on, and Vander nodded. They kept moving along the building.
Ahead was another set of glass doors. As they neared, Rhys heard the murmur of voices and held up a hand. He and Vander stopped.
Carefully, Rhys peered inside.
He saw Volkov talking to two guards. They were in an office, and the guards were stationed by the far door.
His gaze swept over the room and then he saw Haven. His chest hitched.
“She’s alive,” he murmured. She was tied to a chair, looking gloriously pissed.
The Water Lilies rested against the wall. As he watched, Volkov grabbed the painting, and left the room.
“Volkov walked out with the painting.”
Vander nodded. “I’ll enter through the living room and take him down. Can you handle the guards?”
Rhys glanced at his brother.
“Right,” Vander said. “Try not to kill anyone.”
Inside, Rhys heard Haven talking. She sounded angry. She jerked on the bindings holding her to the chair.
The guards frowned at her.
Rhys decided to enter fast. He took a few steps back, then ran. He lifted his arm and closed his eyes as he crashed into the French doors, glass shattering.
Haven screamed.
Rhys aimed and fired. The first guard jerked and collapsed. The second was moving, but Rhys swiveled and took him down, too.
He marched over and kicked the guards’ weapons away. Both were groaning. “Try anything, and I’ll kill you.”
Both went still and stayed silent.
Then Rhys strode over to Haven.
“Rhys!”
“It’s okay, baby.” He pulled his knife and cut through the tape, freeing her. “I’m getting you out of here.”
Suddenly, the door to the office flew open. Volkov strode in, two guards with him.
Fuck . Vander hadn’t found him yet. The guards lifted their handguns.
“Shoot him!” Volkov yelled.
Rhys leaped away from Haven. If they shot at him, he didn’t want to risk her getting hit. He dove behind the desk and bullets ripped into the wood. Fuck .
“Stop!” Haven screamed.
Rhys popped up, and shot one guard, then dropped down again.
There was another hail of bullets.
He popped up again, and saw Volkov rushing toward Haven, who was pressed against the far wall. The man had a gun in his hand.
Fear swamped Rhys. Without thinking, he moved toward her.
Bam .
The bullet hit Rhys’ chest. As his body jerked, he got a shot off. The guard yelled and fell.
“Rhys!” Haven screamed.
He dropped behind the desk on one knee and grunted. Fuck that hurt. He touched his vest and tried to pull in a breath. It was agony.
“Rhys, no,” Haven cried from the other side of the room.
He gripped the edge of the desk and pushed himself up. The pain was outrageous and made his head swim. Hold it together, Norcross.
Volkov held Haven in front of him, his gun pressed to her head.
Rhys’ gaze met hers. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears.
“Drop your weapon,” Volkov barked.