Chapter 40
Hoot had never hated standing still more in his life. He paced the length of the loading area, every muscle wound tight enough to snap. His shoulder ached beneath his suit jacket, but he barely noticed. Lark was out there somewhere, and he was stuck waiting for information.
Spark wisely kept several feet between them. He’d tried once to tell Hoot to breathe. Hoot had stared at him until Spark apparently decided he valued his life.
Now the medic stood against the wall, arms folded, watching him wear a path into the concrete. “You know,” Spark said carefully, “if you keep pacing like that, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
“Good.”
Spark sighed. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Excellent. We’re making progress.” Hoot stopped and glared at him. Spark shrugged. “Just trying to offer emotional support.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I’m a medic. We’re trained to stop bleeding, not feelings.”
Despite everything, the corner of Hoot’s mouth twitched. Then his comm crackled. “Guys?” Haley’s voice came through.
“What?”
There was something in her voice. Urgency. “I had it wrong.”
Hoot’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”
“The SUV was a decoy.”
The two men went still. “What?”
“I tracked the vehicle. It left the property, but there was nobody inside.”
Hoot’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Then where the hell are they?”
“I found them.” He stopped breathing. Haley continued. “The girls never left the property. Someone used the SUV to pull our attention toward the east side while another vehicle moved somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Far western edge of the estate. There’s an old maintenance garage about a quarter mile from the main house. It’s barely visible from the road.” Hoot was already moving. “I’m sending you the coordinates.”
“Don't bother.” Spark was beside him. “Already got them.”
They took off. Hoot didn’t wait for permission. He sprinted across the grounds, Spark close behind. His injured shoulder protested with every stride, but he ignored it.
“Flint,” he barked into his comm. “We found them. Old garage, west side of the property.”
Flint answered immediately. “On our way back to you now.”
Hoot rounded the corner of the mansion. The sprawling estate stretched before them, manicured gardens giving way to thick stands of trees. Rain had turned the ground slick, and his dress shoes slipped more than once.
He didn’t slow. “Haley,” he demanded. “How many inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“Cameras?”
“There’s one mounted on the outside of the garage.”
“Can you see inside?”
“Not yet. The interior cameras were disconnected.”
Hoot’s jaw clenched. “Can you get them back?”
“Working on it.”
Spark caught up. “Maybe don’t blow through the door until we know what’s on the other side.” Hoot shot him a look. Spark raised both hands. “Just a suggestion.”
Hoot reached the treeline. The old garage was barely visible beyond it. A weather-beaten structure sat at the bottom of a shallow slope, half-hidden by trees and overgrown brush. The paint had peeled away in large strips, exposing gray wood beneath.
No lights. No vehicles. No movement. It looked abandoned. Which meant Hoot trusted it even less.
He crouched behind a tree and pulled his weapon. Spark did the same. A moment later, Voodoo and Jeeves appeared through the trees.
Flint’s voice came through the comm. “Hold position.”
Hoot’s grip tightened. “Negative.”
“Hoot.”
“I’ve got a feeling.”
“You’ve got a lot of feelings right now.” Hoot ignored him.
Then Haley’s voice cut through the channel. “I’ve got something.”
Everyone froze. “Interior audio just came online.” Static filled Hoot’s earpiece. Then a voice. A woman’s voice.
“Bradley?” Lark. Hoot’s entire world narrowed to that single word. She was alive. He closed his eyes for half a second. Relief crashed through him so hard it nearly brought him to his knees.
Then another voice came through. Male. Calloway’s. Hoot’s expression hardened. “She’s in there.”
Flint arrived beside him. “What’s the situation?”
“Calloway and Bradley are inside.”
Flint’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“Unknown number of hostiles.”
A burst of static. Then Lark again. “...you can’t keep doing this.”
Hoot’s blood went cold. He knew that tone. She was scared. But she was fighting. His Lark was still fighting. He suddenly hoped that after all this was over, she could finally stop fighting.
Flint looked around at the team. “We do this clean.”
Hoot nodded. Jeeves and Voodoo moved toward the rear of the building. Spark stayed with Hoot.
Flint signaled. Three. Two. One.
The rear door exploded inward thanks to Spark’s boot kick. Hoot went through first. Chaos erupted. A man lunged from behind the corner of the building before Hoot could fully enter. Hoot dropped him with a single strike.
Another came from the side. Spark intercepted him. “Where are they all coming from?” Spark shouted.
“Don’t care. Handle it!”
Hoot pushed into the garage. “Lark!” Her head snapped toward him. Their eyes met. For one suspended second, everything else disappeared.
She was tied to a chair. Her hair was disheveled. One cheek reddened. There was fear in her eyes. But she was alive. “Cormac.”
He crossed the room in seconds. Calloway backed away. Bradley stood frozen beside him. Hoot barely noticed either man, knowing his team would have his back. He dropped to his knees in front of Lark.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. Wren—”
“I’ve got her,” Spark assured.
Lark’s eyes filled with tears. Hoot reached for the restraints. “Hold on.” His knife flashed. The zip tie snapped. Lark’s hands fell free, and she immediately threw her arms around his neck.
Hoot caught her carefully, burying his face against her hair. For one moment, he simply held her. Then he whispered against her temple. “You’re safe now, little bird. I’ve got you.”
She clung tighter. “I know.”
“Next time you disappear, I’m coming with you.” She snorted out a laugh, which was exactly what he needed to hear at that moment.
Behind them, Flint’s voice turned hard. “Calloway.”
Hoot looked over Lark’s shoulder. Calloway stood surrounded by Condor’s Overwatch operators. His expression was remarkably calm. Almost amused. “Gentlemen.”
Hoot’s hand tightened around Lark. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life. This wasn’t over. Not even close.