Chapter 12
Both of the attackers were dead. He’d seen the girls racing off into the woods and they were about to go after them when Hunter”s phone rang. Seeing Lauren’s name on the caller ID, he answered.
“Lauren, you okay?” Ghost turned at the sound of Hunter’s voice and Hunter put the call on speaker phone.
“Amber... They”ve got her, Hunter,” the voice on the other end gasped out, breathless and edged with panic.
“Details, now,” Hunter demanded, his words clipped as he pivoted on his heel, mind already racing.
“He took her, pulled her off the ATV. Oh my God, Hunter! What if he?—”
“Don’t. Don’t go there. We will find her and we will bring her back. Where are you now, Lauren?”
“At the house.”
“Is Cameron there?”
“He’s in the barn.”
“Go get him. Pack an overnight bag for you, Jack, and your grandparents and get the hell out of here until I call and tell you it’s safe.”
After hanging up, Hunter felt his heart slam against his ribcage, the steady thump escalating into a thunderous pounding that echoed the turmoil spiraling within him. Amber—brilliant, fearless Amber, his Amber—was in the hands of these ruthless bastards. He”d faced danger before, stared down death without flinching, but this was Amber. This time, it was personal.
“Stay alive, Amber,” he whispered. “I”m coming for you.”
“Time”s not on our side,” Hunter muttered, more to himself than to Ghost. “We need backup. Jimmy provided a location he thinks they might be at, but I’d feel better if we had a few extra men on our side.”
The screen lit up as he found Lucky”s contact. He pressed down, initiating the call that could change everything. The ringing mocked the urgency boiling within him, each tone a drumbeat against the walls of his resolve.
“Hey Hunter,” the gruff voice replied.
“Lucky. I don’t have time to give you many details right now. We”re in deep. The cartel”s got us outgunned, outmanned, and they have my woman…” His jaw clenched, the words heavy with a cocktail of fear and fury. “We need the Watchmen. Do you have any men you can loan us?”
On the other end, there was a brief pause, before Lucky replied, “You”ve got it. We”ll mobilize immediately.”
“You”ve got to hurry—they won”t hold back, and we can”t afford any missteps. I need to get Amber back alive.”
“Understood,” Lucky responded, his voice now a hardened command, leaving no room for doubt or delay.
“Thanks, brother. See you soon.” Hunter ended the call. He hated waiting. Hated it. He felt like a lion in a cage.
“Hey.” Ghost”s voice cut through the silence. There was an almost imperceptible creak of floorboards as he moved closer.
Hunter didn”t need to look up to know that Ghost had read the conflict in his posture—the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his hands now lay idle on the table. Ghost had always been good at reading the room, even better at reading his old friend.
“Remember Rio?” Ghost asked, sitting beside Hunter with a familiar ease. The question was simple, but it carried the weight of shared history, of battles fought and won.
Hunter let out a breath. “How could I forget?”
“Exactly.” Ghost leaned back, the chair protesting under his solid frame. His presence was a calming force, a reminder of the strength they held together. “We”ve faced worse odds. We”re still here, still kicking.”
“Because of you,” Hunter replied, finally meeting Ghost”s gaze. It was steady, unflinching. “You pulled us through that one.”
“We,” Ghost corrected, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We”re a team. Focus on what we can do, not on what we”re up against,” Ghost continued, his tone firm yet encouraging. “Stay the course, brother. We’ll get her.”
The dirt kicked up in a cloud as rows of motorcycles skidded to a halt outside the Ranger Station, now being used as an operations center for Hunter. Jimmy sat, wisely saying nothing, behind the small desk in the corner of the room. Hunter”s eyes fixed on the arriving men, his body tensing with a mixture of relief and urgency.
“Cavalry”s here.” Ghost nodded to their arrival and both men stood to greet their friends.
Lucky was the first to dismount, his broad shoulders casting a formidable silhouette against the dimming sky. His stride was confident as he approached Hunter, a silent nod passing between them. They were men who understood each without the need for words.
“Thanks for coming,” Hunter said, his voice low but carrying the weight of command.
”Cartel doesn”t stand a chance now, huh?” Lucky”s voice was gravelly, yet there was an undeniable humor underneath.
Hunter allowed himself a half-smile. ”We could use your expertise. Let”s get everyone up to speed.” He motioned for Lucky and his men to follow him inside. Once in front of the table with the maps, he started speaking again. “Cartel”s fortified at an old ranch house, it used to be the caregiver’s home back when the land was private. They have more firepower than we anticipated.”
“Amber?” Lucky asked.
“Inside. Alive, as far as we know.” Hunter”s jaw tightened at the thought. “We have to assume they”re watching us now. Standard breach won”t cut it.”
“Agreed.” Lucky surveyed the horizon, where the mountains loomed like silent sentinels. “We”ll need diversions, smoke, maybe some high ground coverage.”
“We’ll need snipers,” Hunter said as his mind raced through tactics and countermeasures.
“Exactly. And timing will be everything.” Lucky folded his arms, his gaze never leaving the map. “We hit them at dusk. Low visibility, and our night vision gives us the edge.”
“Distraction team to draw their fire, main assault force breaches from the back.” Hunter”s hands clenched into fists, the readiness to act surging through him.
“Split them down the middle,” Lucky affirmed. All the men Lucky had brought with him were former special forces operatives, they’d need little instruction when the time to act came.
“Let”s get to work then,” Hunter said. Turning, he looked at his best friend. “Ghost, your recon expertise is going to be front and center,” Hunter said, locking eyes with the second-in-command of the Spartan Watchmen.
“Got it,” Ghost replied, his voice low but clear. “I”ll give you the eyes you need.”
The room hummed with renewed strategy talks; maps spread across the table giving a clear view of the wooded area surrounding the old house. Every member leaned in, their fingers tracing possible routes, marking entry points, and calculating lines of sight.
“Snipers here and here,” pointed Lucky, his finger tapping two elevated positions that overlooked the house. The rest of the team nodded, picturing the high ground advantage in their mind”s eye, understanding how it could turn the tide.
“Explosives?” asked one of Lucky’s men, his eyes alight with strategic fire. Hunter remembered him from a previous mission. Navy EOD technician. He was glad to have him on their side.
“Controlled and precise,” Lucky responded. “We don”t want to harm Amber or any other hostages they might have.”
The military expertise of the Spartan Watchmen wove through their discussions, providing depth and a nuanced understanding of combat that bolstered everyone”s confidence.
“Remember, folks,” Hunter interjected, his tone commanding silence, “this isn”t just about firepower. It”s about precision, timing, and above all, getting Amber out alive. She”s relying on us to bring her back. This isn”t just another op; this is personal.” Heads nodded, the gravity of their task settling upon them.
”Say we hit them here,” Savage pointed to a narrow pass on the map, ”and here.” His finger moved to mark another critical juncture, eyes keen with tactical insight.
”Choke points,” Irish chimed in, his accent adding weight to the words. ”Force ”em where we want ”em.”
”Good,” Hunter affirmed, mind racing with possibilities. ”We need to keep them reactive, not proactive. They slip up when they”re off balance.”
Lucky cleared his throat, catching the team”s attention with the gritty timbre of his voice. “I had a... conversation with Scar,” Lucky began, the name hanging heavy in the air. “I made it clear—Grand Ridge is off-limits for fentanyl.”
“We heard that on recording Amber made of the men talking,” Hunter said. “From what I could tell Scar was trying to enforce the agreement but was getting pushback.”
“It’s more than an agreement; it”s a promise to keep Grand Ridge safe.” His eyes hardened like flint. “Scar knows better than to break it.”
“His word worth anything?” Ghost asked, assessing the implications.
“His word is his bond,” Lucky stated flatly. “Keeps it, or he faces consequences from both sides. His men would lose all respect for him. If he’s still in play, we will have an ally. I don’t believe Hell Speed will go against us. It would cause our two clubs to war. Once they see us, I’m hoping they will draw back. Our engagement then would only be with the cartel bastards.”
“Could help,” Hunter mused, tapping a finger against the table. “If Scar values your relationship…”
“Exactly,” Lucky agreed, with a knowing look. “He steps out of line here, it”s not just us he answers to.”
“Let”s gear up,” Hunter ordered, the finality in his voice echoing off the walls.
The men dispersed to prepare, moving with renewed vigor. They checked their weapons, loaded magazines with a rhythmic click-click, secured protective gear, and exchanged curt nods of solidarity. Amidst the quiet bustle of readiness, Hunter allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes and envision Amber”s safe return. In his mind”s eye, he saw her, resilient and unbroken despite the ordeal she must be enduring.
Opening his eyes, Hunter watched as the men huddled into smaller groups, fine-tuning their approach. The air hummed with the electricity of impending action, the final pieces falling into place. With a nod from Hunter, they began to file out, stepping into the encroaching dusk of the Colorado Mountains. Night would soon fall, and under its cover, they would strike against the darkness that had taken his woman.
And Amber was his. He knew it before she’d been taken and now? He’d give his life in return for her safety. It wouldn’t come to that. He was going to bust heads and take names. They messed with the wrong woman, and he’d make sure they knew it.
Hunter’s hand moved to his earpiece, a subtle signal. ”Check comms. No room for static tonight.”
The quiet affirmation of ‘comms check’ pulsed through the network, a lifeline threading each member to the whole. Hunter slid behind the wheel of the lead vehicle, the cold touch of the key igniting more than just the engine. It sparked the fire of a man with everything to lose and the fury to reclaim it. Beside him, Lucky adjusted his headset.
“Time to bring her home,” Lucky said.
“They messed with the wrong woman,” Hunter growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You don”t touch what is mine. Time to end this.”
The three-vehicle convoy snaked through the Colorado mountains. Hunter”s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw set as he navigated the turns. Beside him, Lucky kept his gaze fixed ahead, the green glow of the dashboard casting ghostly shadows across his face. His fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on his knee. Nervous energy, Hunter knew it well.
In the backseat, two of the Spartan Watchmen sat like statues carved from darkness, their outlines barely discernible. They carried with them an air of lethal calm, the kind that only seasoned soldiers wore.
Hunter”s thoughts flickered once again to Amber—her determination, her athleticism, the way she could hold her own in any conversation. He imagined her now, somewhere in the cartel”s grasp, using that intellect to stay alive. His grip tightened on the wheel. Failure wasn”t an option.
“A mile out,” Lucky announced, breaking Hunter”s thoughts.
“Radio silence from here on out,” Hunter commanded, his voice low. The last thing they needed was intercepted communications. The vehicles crept forward, the tension palpable in the confined space. Everyone felt it—a coil wound tight, ready to spring into chaos. Hunter parked near the house, but far enough to remain unseen. Doors opened with a hushed urgency, boots hitting the ground with soft thuds against the dirt.
Hunter stepped out, feeling the cool mountain air bite at his skin. He looked up at the stars, before his gaze dropped to the shadowed valley below. Down there was Amber. His focus wasn’t on drug or human trafficking, or on the threat they posed on Grand Ridge or Amber’s family’s land. No. His focus, his only focus, was to find his woman. He’d destroy anyone who’d harmed her and God help any man who stood between them.
“Move out,” he whispered, the words barely louder than the rustle of leaves underfoot.
The men fanned out, a silent dance of dark figures moving with purpose. Each step took them closer to danger, to Amber, to the resolution they all craved.