Chapter 47
The path hadn't changed, but Ike had.
He was supposed to be lying low, but he couldn’t, not with Lachlan and Britt missing.
His lungs burned with each ragged breath as he pushed himself harder down the steep mountain trail.
Loose gravel crunched under his boots, sending small cascades of pebbles tumbling ahead of him.
The weight of the thirty-pound rucksack strapped to his back was a welcome reminder that his body was healing, strengthening, returning to what it once was.
The morning sun filtered through dense tropical foliage, dappling the narrow trail with shifting patterns of gold. The air smelled of damp earth and a hint of salt from the distant Caribbean. The scent of life itself on the Palmchat Islands.
Forty-eight hours had passed since anyone had seen Lachlan or Britt.
The team had visited each of the known Quattro ghost sites and come up empty—no sign of Lachlan or the Quattro mercenaries who had kidnapped him.
Remi helping Britt launch her own investigation of Dove Island had been a disaster.
Their search of the island had been another dead end.
The only hope was that Britt and Lachlan were together, biding their time with Quattro until the Stingray team could find them and bring them home to their little girl.
A bark echoed from behind, followed by the rhythmic sound of paws hitting the trail.
"I'm not slowing down for you, Tucker," Ike muttered, biting back a smile despite his annoyance. The dog would catch up, like always.
The white Labrador bounded past him, then circled back, tongue lolling as he matched Ike's pace.
The dog had been a persistent shadow since the night Ike crash-landed in the forest when Tucker had gone for help.
Ike had stopped trying to get rid of the pesky animal.
What was the point? Tucker refused to leave his side.
"I still don't like you," Ike said, slowing to a stop. Unclipping his water bottle from his belt, he took a quick swig, then poured some into his cupped palm for Tucker. The dog lapped it up eagerly. "Don't get used to this."
Ike took off again, with Tucker matching his strides. He quickened his pace, letting gravity pull him down the serpentine trail. The Stingray Security compound was less than a mile away.
As he navigated a particularly steep section, bracing against tree trunks to control his descent, he cycled through his options for sneaking into the compound to have breakfast with Paloma.
The little girl was stronger than anyone realized, but this would test her.
Sebastian had messaged earlier that she was anxious but holding up.
Remi was watching her at the compound, and the whole team was making up excuses for her parents' absence.
She could use a distraction, and Ike knew he was the best one to provide it.
But it would have to be a clandestine operation since he needed to dodge Remi.
The last thing he needed was his old friend to see him alive.
The news would spread faster than wildfire.
Ike wasn’t ready to reveal himself to the world.
Not yet. As a former PISCO, he had enough tricks to create a diversion and distract Remi.
With his special ops training, it would be embarrassing if he couldn’t.
The path leveled slightly as it cut through a grove of mango trees. Tucker suddenly darted ahead, circling back with excited yips. His tail wagged frantically as he bounded ahead again.
“What’s wrong with that crazy ass dog?” Ike hissed, slowing his pace. There was no warning or aggression in the barking. Still, something wasn't right. Ike's hand instinctively went to his waistband, his fingers brushing the grip of his gun. He scanned the perimeter, eyes narrowed.
Tucker's tail wagged faster.
And then he knew.
The scent hit him first—jasmine floating on the morning breeze, distinct from the tropical flora surrounding them. His heart rate quickened, but not from exertion.
"You might as well come out," Ike called, unable to keep the smile from his voice. "The dog's already given you away."
A rustle of leaves, and then she was there. Stepping from behind a thick breadfruit tree, dressed in fitted black running gear, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail. A blue hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear made his breath catch.
"Ava."
She smiled, those dark eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his chest tighten. Tucker bounded over to her, and to Ike's annoyance, she scratched behind the dog's ears affectionately.
“I’ll have to be more careful next time,” she said, her voice smooth as honey. "Smart dog."
"Nuisance dog," Ike corrected, but his words had no heat.
The Stingray Security compound was visible through the trees, its modern silhouette rising from the hillside.
"You're healing well," she observed, her eyes lingering appreciatively over his bare chest.
"Better every day." He closed the distance between them. "Unlike my patience."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't step back as he moved closer. "Patience for what?"
"For you."
Without hesitation, he pulled her against him, one hand sliding to the nape of her neck as he claimed her mouth with his. Her lips were soft, yielding, then demanding as she matched his fervor. The kiss was hungry, desperate—a manifestation of weeks of wondering, waiting, needing.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Ike stared into her eyes. "You disappeared. I didn’t know when I’d see you again. If … I’d see you again.”
"I told you I'd be a distraction," she whispered, but her fingers were still curled around the belt loops of his shorts, keeping him close. "You need to focus."
"I am focused." His voice was rougher than he intended. “The key from the memorial is to a safe deposit box at Mountain Kingdom Bank in Lesotho.”
She didn't look surprised. Of course, she wouldn't.
"And?" she prompted.
"And I'm heading there once the only pilot I trust gets out of this jam he’s in." He studied her face.
“Lachlan …” she nodded.
"What do you know that I don't, Ava? Why Lesotho?"
A shadow passed behind her eyes. "Your father had dealings there.”
"What kind of dealings?”
She stepped back slightly. “Ones that put a target on his back. The kind of things that get planes shot out of the sky. Get the safe deposit box, Ike. The answers are there.”
"Come with me," he said, taking her hand. “Help me get to the bottom of this. Stop fucking disappearing on me. I need you.”
Her smile was bittersweet. "Not yet. I have my own path to follow. But you haven’t seen the last of me.”
“Ava, don’t go.” Ike hated the pleading in his voice. The raw, primal desire coursed through him for this woman. The desperation to keep her close. To have her with him. Always. “I want you with me.”
Tucker barked suddenly, drawing their attention toward the compound—a truck Ike didn’t recognize pulled into the front parking lot.
"I have to go," she said, squeezing his hand. "Be careful, Ike. Not everyone around you is who they claim to be."
Before he could respond, she was jogging away, her form quickly disappearing among the trees. Ike watched until she vanished, the scent of jasmine fading on the breeze. Then, with a low whistle to Tucker, he continued down the path toward the compound.
As he approached the outer perimeter, Ike slowed, scanning for the security cameras he knew were positioned throughout the grounds.
There weren’t many blind spots, but he knew them all as well as the few seconds they’d exist before an overlapping security measure would close them off.
He'd designed the system himself, after all.
He circled to the east entrance, where the kitchen delivery door would provide cover, obscuring his position from the parking lot.
As he moved closer, voices carried on the morning air.
Ike froze, pressing his back against the building.
"—just need to know where they're looking, Remi." The male voice was familiar, sending a chill down Ike's spine. "If Quattro has him, time is critical. The joint PIIB-PISCO task force I’m leading could be instrumental in bringing him home.”
“If I had any details, I’d tell you, Wesley.
I’m sure they’d welcome your help since you fought side by side with Ike on all those PISCO missions.
But they didn’t give me any. All I know is that Bobby got a new lead from the work he did overnight, and they all left before dawn this morning to see if they could find Lachlan and Britt. ” Remi's voice sounded tired, worried.
Why the hell was Wesley Thomas here?
“Britt?” Wesley pressed. “You mean Britt Freeman? She's alive? You’ve seen her?”
Ike cursed under his breath. The last thing they wanted was for the PISCOs and the PIIB to find out about Britt. It would only complicate matters until they could eliminate the Quattro threat.
"Yes, it's true," Remi confirmed. “The team found her a couple of weeks ago. She has amnesia. Doesn’t remember her old life yet, but the DNA tests confirmed it’s her. It’s a miracle. But now, because of me, she went off to find Lachlan, too, and hasn’t come back.
I never should’ve helped her take off on her own.
She wouldn’t be missing if I’d convinced her to stay put until the guys returned.
It’s my fault that Paloma is missing both of her parents. ”
“Both her parents,” Wesley repeated.
Ike cringed. More information Remi had no clue she shouldn’t be sharing.
“And the child? Where's Lachlan's daughter now?"
Something in Wesley's tone set Ike's nerves on edge. Why would he care about Paloma's whereabouts?
"She's inside with me," Remi answered, hesitation creeping into her voice. "I'm watching her until the team gets back."
"Poor thing must be frightened," Wesley said, his voice dripping with false concern.
“She’s resilient. I’m impressed with how well she’s dealing with it all,” Remi said. “I should get back to her. I’ll let the guys know that you stopped by—”
There was a sudden thud followed by a soft gasp. Ike peered around the corner in time to see Remi slump to the ground. Wesley stood over her, tucking something into his pocket—likely a syringe.
White-hot rage flashed through Ike. He moved without thinking, launching himself from his position.
"Thomas!"
Wesley spun, eyes widening in genuine shock as he registered Ike's presence. "Da Costa? I’d hoped you were gone for good."
"Sorry to disappoint," Ike growled, closing the distance between them. “What the fuck did you do to Remi?”
They circled each other, two predators assessing vulnerabilities. Wesley had always been methodical and patient. He'd won more than his share of their sparring matches during PISCO training, even if Ike had proven time and again that he was the superior special operative.
Wesley’s expression hardened into cold calculation. “She’ll be fine in a few hours. I couldn’t let her get in the way of an ongoing PISCO operation. You remember those, don’t you?”
“Why would the PISCOs care about a private pilot to the rich?” Ike demanded. “We both know Lachlan has no connection to Quattro. So, why are you really here?”
“For the kid. Britt’s daughter,” Wesley said, emphasizing her name.
“Galloway would never target a child!” Ike had executed heinous ops for the Commander, but none that involved using children to get at their targets.
It wasn’t the man’s style. But Wesley Thomas had a pattern of breaking the rules to capture PISCO targets—and from what Ike could tell, the target was Britt. Not Lachlan.
Ike closed the distance between them. “I’m not letting you take her.”
Wesley smirked. “You can’t stop me.”
Ike lunged, but Wesley was ready, countering Ike’s fast jab to his jaw with a counter punch to Ike’s chest. Pain detonated through his barely healed cracked ribs. He grunted but didn't go down.
Wesley struck with snake-like speed, landing a combination that pushed Ike back. Ike absorbed the blows and then countered with a sweep that nearly took Wesley off his feet.
Tucker barked frantically, creating a diversion that allowed Ike to land a solid hit to Wesley's sternum. The man doubled over but recovered faster than Ike anticipated, driving his shoulder into Ike's midsection.
They crashed to the ground. Pain radiated down Ike’s arm.
Wesley straddled Ike, executing a brutal series of punches that left him dazed and debilitated.
Ike struggled to counter, his defensive moves thwarted by Thomas’s faster, more practiced attack.
He was rusty, his weaknesses glaring at the worst possible time—when Paloma needed him the most. He was losing the battle fast, frustration mounting as he failed to get the upper hand.
The knockout blow came from nowhere, a precisely aimed strike at the junction of his neck and shoulder—a pressure point that sent Ike's nerves screaming. His body buckled as his head bounced off the sidewalk, sending blinding pain through him. His breath hitched. Ike had mere seconds before he’d be unconscious.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him was Wesley digging in his pocket for the black metal Stingray card. He held it in the air with a smug satisfaction, then jogged toward the entrance. He was going after Paloma, and she had no clue the danger that was closing in.
He’d failed her. He’d failed his little dove.