Tango Down (The Renegades Book 4), page 1
TANGO DOWN
THE RENEGADES
BOOK 4
CARA DEE
Tango Down
The Renegades #4
Copyright © 2023 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
Authors against using generative AI
This book along with its cover are licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission from the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. This work along with its cover may not be regenerated or processed using artificial intelligence (AI) in any capacity. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and all references to historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
CONTENTS
Clock’s Ticking for The Renegades
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Epilogue 3
Epilogue 4
More from Cara
About Cara
CLOCK’S TICKING FOR THE RENEGADES
Romantic Suspense | Action | Hurt/Comfort
(The series should be read in order)
Book 1: Rogue Launch | Elliott & Joel
Book 2: Enemy Combatant | Crew & Adrien
Book 3: On the Double | River & Reese & Shay
Book 4: Tango Down | Joel & Elliott
CHAPTER 1
Joel Hayward
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Are you a coaster?”
I grinned and eyed her in the rearview. “I think you mean Coastie. I’m in the Coast Guard.”
“Huh.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger and looked out the window. “I’m pretty sure Gammie said coaster.”
I shook my head to myself. I guess I was a coaster.
A slew of curses rushed through my earpiece, and judging by the anger from River and Reese, the man with a bag over his head currently being escorted to the center of the amphitheater was their Shay.
Reese growled under his breath. “I’m gonna kill all of them.”
“We will.” Greer spoke in a low, threatening tone.
I inhaled deeply and adjusted my scope, keeping Shay in my sights. I was about…fifty-six yards away from him.
“Everyone in position?” Emerson asked.
“JH confirmed,” I reported, like the rest did.
All of us were standing some forty yards apart, in the thicket between the entertainment area and the outer wall. Only Danny was hiding out somewhere on the other side of the stage, and he confirmed his position too.
Two men pulled the bag from Shay’s head and uncuffed him, followed by harsh spotlights suddenly flooding the stage.
Knowing that not everyone had eyes on the guy—considering the marble stands blocked the view on the sides—I inspected the kid and gave a brief report. “Minor visible wounds, some bruises, gaze focused, he’s alert.” Dirty-blond hair, pale, tatted-up, muscles tense.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain was just what we needed to really turn the Blanco estate into a muddy slip ’n slide. We were all covered in sweat, humidity, and grime as it was.
“Crew is on the second platform.” That was Elliott.
I clenched my jaw and shifted my scope to scan the surroundings. The bottom patio hosted primarily women and children. The second one—there. I saw Crew too. He was standing close to the balustrade, stare fixed on Shay. The men seated at the grand table behind Crew were in the process of standing up. Dinner was over. Time for the big fight.
Who could Mercier be? Cullen had shown me a photo of Crew, ’cause I couldn’t remember the kid from Elliott’s barbecue, but I had no idea what Adrien Mercier looked like.
“Where’s the Fed?” Thankfully, Greer had the same question.
“Tall guy right behind Crew, talking to the bald man in a blue suit,” Danny responded.
Okay, noted.
“Anyone got eyes on Marco?” I asked quietly. Because he was my target. He knew where my daughter was.
I kept seeing her face… Her wavy hair, her silvery-blue eyes lit up with mischief…
The light of my life.
I heard her too. Crying out for me, begging me to save her. Each sob was a knife to my heart, and the echoes of her agony distorted the images of her cute-as-fuck, happy expression. Wiping away the grins and replacing them with pain and fear.
“He might be on the third patio—I don’t see him,” Reese replied.
Fuck. We were on the damn ground; we couldn’t see that high up.
I blew out a breath and rolled my shoulders. We were running on too little sleep, and the general discomfort was fucking with my concentration. All I heard was the cacophony from the guests and the constant splats of waterdrops hitting leaves. Rainforests were never quiet.
Shay had been joined by more men, one of whom was speaking to the crowd.
Welcome to tonight’s entertainment!
You got a preview last night. Everyone excited?
Goddamn monsters.
They were done murdering. From now on, they served as my target practice.
Enzo and Marco Blanco were off-limits because of the intel they sat on, but that was it. The rest were going down. Not counting women and children, of course.
“I think that’s Enzo,” River reported. “The man walking up onstage now.”
I catalogued the old man’s features. He walked with a slight limp, not from an injury but possibly a bad hip. He looked to be around seventy. He soaked up the applause he received and spoke to their guests about the “American boy.”
Then the motherfucker announced another “warm-up,” and he fucking asked for volunteers. That sick son of a bitch. From what I’d heard, Shay didn’t lose. Enzo was sending young, inexperienced punks to a certain death.
“Motherfucker,” Reese whispered. “We need to—”
“Don’t even.” Danny cut in. “There’re too many children around, man.”
I checked my watch quickly. It was past midnight. According to Crew, most of the younger children were usually escorted to the village of villas past the entertainment area right around now. But that was more a guess than data. Crew and Mercier had been here twenty-four hours longer than us. We just didn’t have enough to go on.
Four young men took the stage, ready to challenge Shay in the warm-up, and everyone applauded.
Enzo Blanco left the stage, and I followed him through my scope until he disappeared up on the third patio.
“Suspected Enzo is on the third patio,” I said.
“Crew and Mercier still on second,” Elliott added. “Get ready, everyone. Emerson?”
“Joel will take the first shot,” Emerson responded. “Does anyone have eyes on the third platform? That’s where the family is, according to Crew.”
“Zero,” I answered. The others filled in with their own negatives. “Second-best option the middle patio?” I asked. “I don’t know who they are, but they look more important than the rest—”
“River, duck low—you have a sicario heading toward you,” Reese ordered.
“Wilco,” River replied.
Emerson spoke again. “Middle patio, it is. Once Danny gives you the signal, start taking out guards. We want the higher-ups unprotected. River and Coach, you take out guards around the theater and cover Danny—”
“Fight’s starting.” Reese rushed out the words, and our attention returned to Shay and the center platform.
As the first of the four guys volunteering to fight Shay stepped forward, I looked behind me quickly to make sure I didn’t have anyone coming toward me. Greer and Cullen were somewhere in the thicket, keeping watch, but they were about to take off. Emerson had Greer on two frequencies, ours and another that he shared with Cullen and Mathis. They were on C-4 duty.
“I’m gonna need therapy after this.” There was only dread in Reese’s voice. “May Shay forgive us—”
“Don’t fucking go there, buddy,” Elliott said firmly.
I swallowed hard and watched Shay completely own the other guy. Shay was a technical fighter, fast as hell, and ruthless. When he dragged the semi-conscious cartel guy closer to the edge of the stage and literally punched the teeth out of him, I peered up into the stands, past the first patio—there. I could see Enzo now that he was standing so close to the edge of the third patio. I hoped it really was him.
I tensed up. “Danny, get ready,” I said quietly. “I think Enzo’s gonna sic the rest of the guys on Shay at once.”
River and Reese cursed.
For almost twenty years, I’d studied human reactions through a scope to predict their next move. The slightest twitch of an eye or a flick of their fingers could carry the message of a death sentence. We spoke more with body language than actual words.
Enzo wasn’t as amused as he pretended to be.
Neither was the audience. Children were crying. Women horrified, men angry.
Shay looke
Enzo gave the go-ahead, and two things happened at once. Shay slammed the guy’s head into the marble, and the other three young men started moving toward Shay.
“Any second now,” Danny said. “Remember, boys, don’t leave the gun and take the cannoli. No evidence left behind.”
“I’ll tell Willow to initiate a blackout as soon as you have Shay,” Emerson stated.
I eased my finger over the trigger.
Women in despair were scurrying off with the youngest children. The fuck had they expected? What was worse—most stayed. Boys and girls around my daughter’s age scooted closer to their parents but kept staring.
Shay moved on to fight the other three.
Slow and steady breaths.
I shifted my focus up to the second patio and found one guard who stood out. He was on edge and heavily armed, unlike the civilian sicarios who moseyed around with their AK-47s. Fingers crossed this guy’s job was to protect someone important.
“Okay, almost half the women and children are gone,” Danny muttered. “We can’t wait any longer. Joel, you’re up.”
Gladly.
I zeroed in on the man’s forehead and gently squeezed the trigger, and the shot that cracked through the air like thunder ended all the “entertainment.” Danny confirmed he was off, so did Greer, the theater erupted in chaos, I aimed at another guard and fired, orders were shouted in Spanish, guards lifted their rifles and pointed them at the sky, solidifying our guess from before. Their main threat was the Colombian government, and the only attack they’d made official plans for came from above.
“Cover Shay and Danny! Cover Shay and Danny!”
“Alarm’s sounding at the command center—their top priority will be to get the Blancos to safety.”
I had to listen on one ear and tune the rest out. I peered through the scope and shot every guard I spotted in the head, and they dropped like flies.
“It’s me, kid. Let’s get you out of here. Where are we on the fucking blackout? Who has eyes on Enzo and Luca?”
“Coach is trying to get up there.”
“Moving out!”
The other guys kept speaking rapidly, and it felt like I missed every other word, but I couldn’t focus on the chatter at the same time as I tried to take down as many guards as possible. Something about Mercier, something about Cullen, something about Danny. Where was Elliott? Emerson was reporting back from Willow, counting down till the blackout, and it only took seconds. Then everything went dark. The patios, the theater, the paths—except those with torches.
I sucked in a much-needed breath and switched to night vision.
I had two rounds left when I finally spotted Elliott hauling himself over the balustrade on the second-level patio. I automatically left my position, because he had guards all over the place trying to locate the enemy, and if I had to use my handgun, I needed to be closer.
“Sight for sore eyes, baby—stay with me.” At the sound of Reese’s voice, and the words he spoke, I allowed a pinch of relief. He’d been reunited with Shay. “Cullen, Greer, move toward the villas! Mercier went after Luca, Crew’s grabbing the woman—goddammit! Joel, Elliott needs—
“I’m on it,” I grunted, jumping over a cluster of ferns.
“Got it,” Reese replied. “Jesus Christ.”
“Cullen can’t hear you,” Emerson reminded. “They’re past the villas now. Willow has another mission for them.”
“We really need more missions?” Coach snapped.
I aimed at a guard who’d tensed up at the sight of Elliott, and I shot him before he could do something stupid. If someone was going to shoot Elliott, it was me.
“We have sicarios approaching from the outside,” Emerson reported, the urgency clear in his voice. “Everyone’s been called back to protect the Family.”
For a moment, everybody was talking at once, and it wasn’t like we were sharing mindless chatter about the goddamn weather. Each report had to be heard when it was a matter of life and death, and we were fucking surrounded.
I hauled myself up to the first patio, then swiftly jumped up to the second, where Elliott was killing off the last few men.
“Joel, I’m gonna move you over to the other frequency,” Emerson told me. “What caliber is your rifle?”
“Cover Reese and Danny! They’re crossing the theater right now.”
“On it!”
“Fifty,” I replied. Like a flip of a switch, I went from hearing everyone to hearing just two men cursing and shouting.
And Emerson. “Good. Can you make a fifteen-hundred-yard shot?”
“No problem. Where do you need me to go?” Because by the sound of things, shit was urgent.
“As high up as you can—you see a domed ceiling south of the main estate? It’s their weapons cache. Blow it to kingdom come. Cullen and Greer have rigged the whole building, but you gotta move right now. They’re facing heavy resistance.”
I sprinted up the steps to the third and last patio, seeing nobody around me, and I heard Elliott behind me, asking what the fuck I was doing. Can’t talk right now—actually, I could. I heaved a breath and told Elliott to send everyone to the main estate. Greer and Cullen needed backup ASAP.
“How big is the target?” I hurried over to the edge that faced the main estate, and I jumped up on the balustrade.
“Can you see the door?”
“Confirmed,” I replied. I had to slow down my breathing. Deep, deep breaths. Inhale…exhale… Fanciest weapons cache I’d ever seen. The building was shaped more like a chapel. I saw the door, though, and I saw the C-4 mounted to it. “I see the C-4.”
“Fire at will. Greer, Cullen, get the fuck down—Joel’s about to blow up the building.”
Greer Finlay
“Roger,” I growled, attaching a new mag to my gun. I fired two quick rounds, and the motherfucker finally dropped. “Cullen, move out!”
“I’m fuckin’ tryin’!” he yelled.
I hurriedly wiped sweat out of my eyes and closed the distance between us. Holy fuck, we were out of time. Everyone was headed this way, including women and children fleeing the scene over by the patios. This wasn’t a place for close combat. We were surrounded by buildings, with the grand mansion some hundred feet behind us. Command center, arms storage, garages, smaller villas—all connected by a grid of stone paths. And everything was pitch-black because of Willow cutting the power.
I fired at the two men trying to overthrow Cullen, and one of them fell dead at his feet. The other screamed in pain ten feet away.
Now we could run.
“Rocket launchers secure—we’re moving out,” I panted.
We darted between two buildings—and then we threw ourselves on the ground as an ear-deafening blast went off, sending a pressure wave right past us.
My heart pounded furiously, and I saw my family—the images of them, flashing before my eyes. Archie’s beautiful smile and arresting eyes, Sloan, Corey, our kids, everything that was home. My li’l Corey, rambling about frogs, Sloan’s wry amusement and kind grins… I groaned and rolled onto my side, pain shooting up my leg and chest.
I was too old for rough landings.
Cullen cursed, and then he fired at something. Or someone.
I adjusted my monocular so I could see clearly in the dark, and I grunted as I forced myself to sit up.
“Emerson, connect us to the other frequency again,” I said hoarsely. “We need everyone here.”
“Right away,” he replied. “You two all right, mate?”
Eh.
I lifted my gun and fired at another militia-trained guard.
Elliott Jones
Joel and I ran as fast as we could toward the main estate—the very spot we’d been trying to avoid. We’d wanted to keep the fight near the patios, where the Blanco Family was farther away from a helicopter rescue.
