Chapter 42
Forty-Two
MATEO
We’re perfectly silent as we move through the desert to the compound where Lincoln is staying.
We sent drones in ahead of us, and it was confirmed that it’s occupied.
There are guards patrolling. While we were on our way here, I got word in my ear comms that one of Carson’s soldiers saw Lincoln himself on a back patio.
There’s been no sign of Rose.
But so far, the intel has been right.
Our men have their orders, and the only thing that I’m on edge about is the fact that my wife is in a vehicle less than a mile away.
I can’t believe she talked me into coming with me.
Shaking that thought off, I watch as Carson takes out the three guards at the front gate and Julian climbs into the gatehouse and disarms the security.
“Comms down, security breached,” he says into our ears, and we go in from all sides.
Gunshots sound from around the property, and there’s no way that we’re undetected, so we don’t bother trying to be quiet. I run up to the front door and, with Diego’s help, kick it in.
“Lincoln!” I yell out, and people are scrambling inside. It looks like staff, housekeepers and cooks, which is weird for this time of night. They all look terrified. “Get down! Hands on your heads!”
Julian goes running past me with Jack, taking the left side of the house. Rome and Carson are in the back.
“Six down back here,” Rome says into my ear.
“We’ve got a lot of staff in the front of the house,” I reply.
“He sent them there,” Carson growls. “For cover because he’s a spineless piece of shit.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as Diego and I run to the left, through a dining room and into the kitchen.
Shots are fired, and a bullet sears through my left biceps, and Diego takes the shooter out.
“Fuck, that hurts,” I growl as we keep going, clearing rooms. “We have to get upstairs. She has to be up there.”
Diego nods silently, and we find the back staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
“Side entrance secure,” Julian says in my ear.
“We’re upstairs looking for the target,” I add.
“Fuck,” Rome growls, and I hear . . . helicopter blades? “He has a fucking chopper out here.”
“Do not let Rose get on that bird,” I yell and turn to Diego. “Keep looking for her up here.”
He nods, and I run down the stairs and out back and see the helicopter lift into the air.
“Who got on that fucker?” I demand.
“Lincoln,” Rome replies as he runs over and joins me. Our men are still shooting, killing the army that he had here. “But he was alone.”
“He fucking better be alone,” I yell as I run back for the house, but there’s an explosion, knocking us back, and fear settles in my gut for the first time in a long fucking time.
“Report,” Carson yells.
One by one, the teams respond, all the number twos, except for Diego.
“He was upstairs,” I say as I run toward the fire. “He was looking for Rose.”
No. Fuck no. My man isn’t dead.
“You can’t go in there,” Rome says, but I don’t reply.
As I get to the door, Diego comes through, holding a woman bridal-style, both of them covered in soot and coughing, and when I see the red hair, I know.
We have Rose.