Chapter 31
MIKEY
Crossing my arms, I popped my neck as Dom placed his hands on the table in front of us. “You sure about this?” he asked, lifting a brow and looking over at me.
No.
“It’s the only guaranteed way,” I replied. He inhaled deeply, glancing at the untouched map.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.
The doorknob clicked, the lock disengaging from the code being input, and chatter filled the small, cement room. Blank computer screens surrounded us; everything that usually clicked or buzzed was turned off. All of the fancy electronic equipment disengaged in the single, permanent structure on the entire base where all of the IT stuff was housed.
“Damn, I never thought we’d have clearance to be in here,” Bernie said, running a hand along the wall.
“For real,” Ford agreed, pushing aside one of the chairs.
My heart jumped in my chest as Scottie silently scanned the secure room. Sliding past the computers, the tech equipment, and vacant chairs, her eyes finally landed on me. I clamped my teeth together, focusing on remaining expressionless as she approached the circle forming around the table holding the map.
“Whatever’s going on has got to be serious for us to meet in here without the colonel,” Duncan narrowed his gaze suspiciously.
“Mikey figured out where the Black Box is hidden.” Dom tossed a thumb my way, standing up straight. “Well, technically Thompson did and then entrusted it with Mikey when he realized he wasn’t going to make it. Anyway, Mikey came to me an hour ago with the news, and I’ve decided we’re going to do this a little…differently than we have.”
Bernie hoisted himself up on an empty desk across from us. A rather mischievous grin splitting his lips. “Differently, how? Are we going dark?”
Dom nodded. “I told the colonel I needed full clearance for a black ops mission, no questions asked. He agreed, seeing as we don’t really have any other leads at this point.”
“This is because of the mole, isn’t it,” Scottie voiced, her piercing amber eyes darting briefly to mine.
He nodded. “Speaking of the mole, per my orders, Duncan and Mikey have gathered as much raw data as they can concerning every previous mission of ours. Who was involved, where the intel went, everything. Then they reported the data to the colonel.”
“So, who the fuck is it?” Ford asked, leaning back against the desk beside Bernie.
Dom inhaled deeply. “We just have data.”
“But no actual person that all the shit traces back to,” Bernie muttered.
“Whoever it is, is good at covering their tracks, so not yet. Though, the colonel and I are suspicious of a few people, and I also personally believe that this mole has something to do with your kidnapping, Crow. But this is a huge accusation, so we need to be one hundred percent sure before carrying it further.” Dom pointed at the map. “Which brings me back to this. A simple map of the territory around us. There will be no record of our route, no traceable way to know where we’re going and how we get there. Leading me to my next point.”
Dom glanced at me, questioning once again what we’d previously agreed upon. “Only Mikey and I know the coordinates as of this moment. Not even the colonel knows the Box’s exact location, and we are going to have it remain that way.”
“What?” Ford pushed off from the desk as Scottie’s gaze shot back to mine. Confusion and blatant concern flashed unfiltered across her face. “That’s dangerous. That puts a target on both of your backs.”
“Yes. And he’s accepted the risk,” Dom explained. “But the rest of you need to accept the reality of your situation by not knowing. If you are captured and tortured and they find out you really, truly don’t know, they’ll kill you.”
Bernie shook his head. “Or if they take you or Mikey, and realize they aren’t getting the information out of either of you, they’ll kill you too.”
Scottie closed her eyes but remained silent, slipping backwards into the shadows.
“We fight as a team. We die as a team. At least our promise to Griffin will be kept,” Duncan mumbled.
“Come on, Dom,” Ford pleaded, but getting nothing from Dom, he turned his gaze to me. “Mikey?”
“You know this is the best decision,” I quietly replied, looking down at my boots.
“Look, this is my choice. This is my idea, and as team commander, I’ll take full responsibility,” Dom quickly inserted.
Scottie’s jaw trembled as her gaze stole mine. If she didn’t already, she would certainly hate me after this. But that was okay if it kept her safe. After the shit I put her through, after crossing her boundaries, it was the least I could do.
“You think that Karimy-boy is going to try and come after us,” Ford grumbled.
Dom nodded solemnly. “I don’t just think, I know. He’s desperate, just like we are. And if not everyone knows the exact location—”
“It’s leverage that they don’t know we have. It could buy us time, save one of our lives, be a bargaining chip,” Bernie finished for him.
Dom glanced again at me and closed his eyes.
“No. We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Ford quickly said, pushing off of the desk. “I don’t care that Bernie said it could be a bargaining chip.”
“This is plan B, okay? A failsafe,” Dom quickly explained.
Ford shook his head, a frown tightening his face. “There’s no changing your mind, is there?”
“Unless you have a better way to guarantee we finally get the damn Black Box, then by all means tell me; otherwise, no. This is the best play,” Dom answered.
The rest of the team shared quick glances as my stomach churned. We would all eventually get what we deserved, and this was my penance. I was fine with it too. Despite the nerves, if this guaranteed the safety of my teammates and retrieval of the black box, then it was an easy decision.
“Scottie and Bernie, you two will join Mikey in his buggy, following me with Duncan and Ford. Memorize this map so you can at least keep track of landmarks as we go along. Tags stay here. So, you know the drill if someone is killed,” Dom explained.
“No, I don’t know the drill,” Scottie rapidly gushed, her eyes widening.
Dread filled my soul. This was already killing her, and we weren’t even out on the trail yet. Ford shared a glance with Bernie, sympathy crossing his hardened face, and then he turned to Scottie. “We’re headed out on an unsanctioned mission. If we are killed, we never existed. We don’t come home.” Ford slipped his dog tags over his head and placed them on the table between us, where Duncan and Bernie’s dropped theirs.
Scottie looked directly at me, disbelief coating features that were usually so strong. I couldn’t even bring myself to offer a reassuring smile as I slid the chain off my neck. It plunked on the table with a clink as Dom added his to the pile. Everyone looked at Scottie.
“This isn’t the first time for you guys. I saw you go to remove them before as if it was out of habit,” she muttered as if she was trying to console herself.
No one said anything. There was nothing we could say to offer her comfort as her slender fingers found the chain around her neck. She tugged up, revealing her own tags from beneath her shirt and, with her hand trembling, she stepped forward. Hesitating for half a second, she finally dropped them in the pile.
“Ten minutes. Gear up. Bring all the shit you have. While I hope I’m wrong, I doubt that we’re going to get out of this without the dog fight of our lives,” Dom said, dismissing us.
Without a word, I followed the team out from the secure building and into deceivingly fresh air. The sun was sinking in the horizon, settling a bright orange glow in warning of the impending darkness that would drape over the sandy desert.
Soon it would become black, as dark as every part of my soul already was; I almost relished in the idea of getting my hands a little dirty. All the anger stored over the years would come out to play soon—I hoped.
The thing was, something else hung stiff in my heart. The excitement, the adrenaline from a fight, from an upcoming battle was vacant. Nothing but an emptiness called to me. The day to accept my fate had arrived, and I welcomed it with open arms. I’d been fighting for so long, it lacked the novelty it used to hold.
“Mikey?” Scottie’s delicate voice slipped through my thoughts as we neared our tent. She paused, and I stopped beside her, putting space between us and the rest of the team.
She looked up at me, her doe eyes full of pleading and sorrow. “Can we talk really fast?”
The sunset reflected in her amber irises, the orange like a fire I no longer felt in my soul. Pain, however, roared as hot as the embers in her gaze. A gentle breeze, mocking the storm we were headed to, danced a strand of hair into her face. I reached forward, desperate for one final moment to touch her skin, and brushed the black lock away from her cheek.
“After the mission,” I whispered. Numbing myself to the doom I knew was coming had been so much easier before she’d come along. “After we get back, okay?”
Her bottom lip trembled again. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she quietly cried out, desperation thick in her words.
“You asked me not to,” I replied, wishing beyond everything that I’d confessed to her earlier. Broken and torn between what was right and what I so desperately wanted to say to her. I knew why she’d pushed me away. And yeah, it hurt like hell, but that didn’t change my feelings for her.
I pulled my hand away from her face, memorizing what her dark complexion looked like. What the feel of her skin beneath my fingers was like. Imprinting that smell of faint vanilla and the desert on my heart, I gave her one final smile and stepped around her.
Spinning the wheel, we cruised around another bend. I wasn’t that surprised we’d made it this far without any insurgents showing up. Because, realistically, if I was attacking someone, I’d have waited to do it at this exact location. This portion of the road was the most dangerous part of the route. But Dom had believed the risk was worth it. It was the quickest way to get to where we needed to be without ending up adding over two and a half days to our trip.
There was a reason that this canyon was nicknamed “Devil’s Throat”. One way in, one way out, and death haunted every corner, every crevice along this ravine. If Karim were to show up here, we’d be sitting ducks.
My heart raced, my mouth ran dry as I shifted, and we roared past a rusty, overturned tank left from whatever forgotten fight had occurred a while ago. It was dark. The sky was pitch black and there was no moon overhead to add a hint of silver light to this desolate desert. Clouds covered the stars, not an ounce of sparkling illumination anywhere to be seen.
And then the first flash of something moving fast darted in front of Dom’s buggy, disappearing as quickly as it arrived.
“Viper, they’re here,” Ford’s voice crackled through the radio, joined by intensified hums of engines roaring closer and closer to us.
“Crow, I’ll get close to the edge after this next bend,” I stated.
“Copy that,” Scottie replied. I hated having her move out on her own, but we were being flanked, and the only advantage we would have was her. Dom sped up, putting some space between us.
Sand sprayed up from the wheels of his buggy, peppering the air swirling with the tension of our impending doom. He locked up his wheels and drifted around the corner, clouding everything around us to provide brief cover for Scottie’s exit. Squinting through the night vision goggles and trusting my gut, I slowed and steered us close to the edge of the ravine.
The door clicked beside me and then Scottie ducked out, rolling away from the back end of the buggy and disappearing up the side of the canyon.
Slamming the gas pedal to the floor, I snapped us around the end of the bend and sped forward. I kissed the back bumper of Dom’s buggy. “Let’s see how far we can take them,” I radioed.
And slammed both feet on the brakes. Rubber squealed. The back end swung around. Sand slapped against the metal frame. Dom’s buggy spun out of control, twisting to the left, spiraling in a whirlwind of sand. It stopped an inch away from the line of armored trucks blocking our route.
Less than a centimeter gaped between the three armored trucks yards in front of us. The outside mirrors scraped against the canyon wall. Sheer rock rising straight up to the sky inhibited our ability to climb the walls to go around them.
The rumbling from earlier neared, and I glanced away from the blockade to see two sand rails pulling up behind us. While they were fitted with gatling guns, the armored trucks were just that—armored. No weapons were mounted on the vehicles; they were simply built to ram through shit.
Nobody dared to breathe. Even the night crawlers didn’t inch out of their earthly tombs. Not a grain of sand danced in the air that was so still, you could light a match and the flame wouldn’t flicker.
Adrenaline pumped heavily through my veins, replacing the blood that should’ve flowed.
Metal clicking drew my attention to the center truck, and then hazy movement appeared behind the vehicle. Footsteps. Soft, steady footsteps plunked closer and closer.
Slithering out from beneath the vehicles came six men. Wrapped in tan fabric, their faces hidden behind makeshift balaclavas similar to ours, each insurgent shouldered a gun and then waited.
Swallowing stiffly, I slid a hand toward the rifle resting across my chest. My finger hovered over the trigger, ready to raise and fire at a moment’s notice. Assessing my surroundings, I gathered six more men waiting behind us, with someone stationed at the gatling guns, ready to obliterate us.
The footsteps continued closer and closer, and then the center truck rattled, tilting sideways as something clambered on top.
Not something, but someone.
Headlights flashed on, temporarily blinding me.
Quickly flipping up the night vision goggles, I blinked through the stars, focusing my eyes on two people who appeared through the thick mist of the night.
One man I knew. Karim al-Jabari’s right-hand man, Rashid al-Farouk. His long, dull brown hair was pulled back in the usual ponytail, no face covering to hide the eerie sight of his square jaw with too wide of a nose. He looked like a toad, with eyes too big for the sockets, and honestly, I itched to jab them out with my fingers. Not an overly tall man, but he had width on even Ford.
The other man, however, stood tall. His presence was commanding, silencing even the beetle who dared to dig a little more. Eyes sliced through the air like one of the sharpened blades attached to my belt, his olive skin marred with years of hardship and battle. Dressed in traditional garb that held not a single stitch out of place, he exuded strength and confidence.
And I knew who it was.
“Tell me where it is and I won’t kill you,” he demanded, his voice booming like thunder, thick with an Arabic accent.
I waited, along with my teammates, for a signal from Dom. But he remained seated and still.
“I assume you know who I am?” Karim asked, clasping his hands behind his back. There was no real, clear shot considering his stance just slightly behind Rashid.
Tension slithered thick through the air, heating up the cool night. Still, Dom refused to move or give the all clear to fire a shot at least at Rashid al-Farouk.
Karim al-Jabari inhaled deeply. “You must know what I’m capable of doing. I will not hesitate to gut you like fish, ship pieces of your bodies back to your families to get what I want.”
Blood pounding in my ears, I wanted to scream at Dom to have Scottie take a shot, despite the possibility that she may not have a clear view. At least we could take out Rashid and then maybe still be able to get Karimy-boy. Now would be the perfect moment. Take down Karim al-Jabari, or at least his most loyal soldier, and retrieve the Black Box, stopping it all in one fell swoop. But something nagging in the back of my head whispered that it would be too easy.
“Crow, take the shot,” Dom said through the comms.
I bit back the smile, waiting for the inevitable hiss of a bullet soaring through the air.
“Did you say something?” Karim stretched his arms out, a grin widening on his face as he stepped out from behind Rashid.
“Crow, respond,” Dom asked over the radio.
A low chuckle reverberated around us. “I can’t hear you very well, but I assume you’re calling for someone. A friend and business partner of mine reminded me to not forget about your newest companion.” al-Jabari inhaled deeply and raised his gaze above our buggies. “I heard she’s called ‘squib’ am I right?”
The fabric of reality tore apart.
Scottie.
Pieces of a puzzle slammed together. But the last thing I cared about at this moment was the fact that we just received confirmation as to who our mole was.
Scottie.
Rustling and a string of curse words from a voice I knew, from someone I craved, melded through the frozen time, whirring the world back into orbit. I didn’t want to look behind the two sand rails flanking us. But there was no stopping my gaze from connecting to the sight I knew I was about to find.
Five figures morphed out of the shadows. Thick, red liquid stained the right side of Scottie’s face, dripping from a gash in the side of her head. Dark hair stuck to her skin; her body hung limply between two men dragging her on her knees toward us. Following behind were two more combatants, carrying her sniper rifle and helmet.
Scottie.
Her chin raised, dazed amber eyes briefly found mine, and she suddenly thrashed about. The butt of a rifle slammed against her stomach. I bit back the desire to rush out of my seat and tear the throats out of the monsters who held her captive. Anger seared hot through the ringing in my ears. How dare they touch her.
How dare he.
“Now, who’s going to tell me where to find my box?” Karim jumped down to the hood of the truck, his faithful follower joining him and stepping back in front as a human shield, as Scottie and her captors passed in front of us. “Or should I blow her brains out right here?” Karim pulled a gun from his waistband, cocking it. “Oh, and don’t bother trying to radio your command, my loyal soldier will make sure you can’t contact anyone.”
“Fuck you!” Scottie shouted, spitting toward Karim as the four men threw her in front of the truck. A fleeting surge of pride rushed through my veins as I knew what was going to happen.
What I was going to do. What I was willing to do.
What I had to do to give her the world.