Fixed Asset (Downrange), page 19
“Does this mean I’m shit out of luck?” Mason asked. “You know chocolate helps me concentrate during a—”
“Stop talking,” Jack interrupted Mason. “The last time you complained about something, we engaged in an all-night battle. Can we just get to the hotel without having to draw our weapons?”
The rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire had us all stopping.
“Goddamnit,” Jack snarled.
“Visual?” Pete asked.
I scanned the runway and didn’t see anything. “Negative.”
I was already pulling my pack off to grab my vest.
An advantage to Shep chartering us a private plane was no one said anything when we walked on strapped. However, I didn’t want to wear uncomfortable ballistic plates on a flight. But I sure as shit wanted them on with the sound of bullets popping off.
I dropped my bag, crouched in front of it, and was unzipping it when I saw movement on the opposite side of the runway nearest the beach.
I watched and waited.
There were neat rows of sand or aggregate piled high. Beyond that there was a long shipping dock. It was night, the business was closed, there were lights at the end of the dock, but otherwise the staging area was dark.
I went back to unpacking my vest. I had it over my head when I saw another dark shadow.
“White sedan rolling in hot. We need to move.”
Pete was right. We were sitting ducks with no cover.
Just as I was standing, I caught a flash of someone running from behind a pile of sand and making a mad dash to a cluster of shipping containers. There was a full moon, not enough light to make out facial features but enough to know the long ponytail whipping around as she ran was blonde.
“Is that her?”
How many blonde-haired women could there possibly be on this island? And a blonde running from someone shooting at her . . . it had to be Calista.
“Who?”
“Calista! I think that’s her behind the shipping containers.”
Engines roared closer.
The woman dashed across an open space headed for another container. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, and I still couldn’t be a hundred percent sure it was Calista, but damn if she didn’t have the same build as the description Shep had sent—tall and slim.
“Cat—”
“It has to be her. Cover me!”
I yanked the Sig P226 Pete let me borrow out of my holster and ran as fast as I could across the tarmac. I was on the other side, back on the dirt, and beelining for the shipping containers. I heard the guys laying down cover fire. I had five feet left to go when a barrage of gunfire rang out, forcing me to do a running dive for cover. I rolled, came up on my hip, and cursed Tom Washington’s name when the incision from removing the tracker reminded me that Jack had only cut into my flesh a few days ago and it was not healed.
I forgot about the pain in my hip when I pulled up on my knees and felt the barrel of a gun pressed to my forehead.
“Calista Ventura?” I asked, even though I knew it was her.
“Who are you?”
“Tom Washington sent me to find you.”
“How do you know Tom?”
“I’ll tell you, but can you please lower your weapon?”
“No.”
Shit. I did not want to hurt this woman. Berta respected her. Tom cared about her. Her sister had been murdered. And Carlos had brought her to an island to sell her.
But still . . .
“Really, Calista, Berta thinks highly of you, but I need you to get your gun out of my face.”
“Berta?”
Fucking hell, I was done. My left hand went to the outside of her wrist. I pushed the barrel away from my head and lunged while holding her hand with the gun in the air. I landed on top of her with a thud. I heard the air leave her lungs in a whoosh. A second later, I’d successfully disarmed her.
I pushed up on my knees, straddling her tiny waist, and told her, “We need to get back to my team.”
“Who are you?” she pushed out while trying to suck in air.
I climbed off her.
A loud explosion rocked the earth. I looked up and flames licked the night sky.
I held the gun back out to Calista. “Don’t shoot my team. Three men. All in black tees.”
“Got it.”
“Follow me.”
I crept to the end container and peeked around it. A gas station was fully engulfed in flames. There was a car on fire. But no guys.
Instinctively, I reached for my ear.
No comms. My phone was in my pack.
The guys would need to fall back and find cover before the fire drew a crowd. I thought about the map. The church at the end of the runway was too far away. They’d lose visual of me. The grocery store could be seen when we exited the plane, meaning the rooftop would be a good perch for overwatch.
Jack was for sure going to redden my ass for this.
“We have to get across the street to the grocery store.”
“Are you insane? I just spent two days tied to a bed in a hotel. You’re crazy if you think I’m taking a chance of being seen and taken again.”
“You’ll be safe. My team will be there to meet up with us.”
I didn’t have time to argue with her. We had to get back to the guys before people flooded the streets, making it harder to go unnoticed.
“You go,” she told me.
This was one of the many times I wished I was male. I was not big enough to toss her over my shoulder and carry her. Nor was I strong enough to do that even for the short distance to the grocery store.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I appreciate you—”
She clamped her mouth shut when angry male voices sounded close.
Too close.
We turned at the same time.
Three men were running from the dock in our direction.
“Run!”
Calista took off. I followed. We made it to an office trailer as shots started flying.
I had a fifteen-round magazine and one in the chamber, then I would be out of ammo. Oh yeah, Jack was going to go apeshit.
“Is your mag full?”
“No clue. It’s not mine.”
I didn’t get a chance to ask her whose it was before bullets started pinging the trailer. I glanced around the corner. The guys were still coming.
“Are you a good shot?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got three coming our way,” I told her. “You take the right. I’ll cover left.”
“Got it.”
“Ready?”
Calista didn’t verbally answer. She stepped out from behind the trailer and aimed right. I did the same but went left.
My first shot was low and to the left. I adjusted, pulled the trigger, and before my first target hit the ground I moved to my second. Calista fired twice and all three were down.
Now we really had to move.
“See the building on the other side of the tarmac?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s where we’re headed.”
She didn’t wait for me. I took a second to make sure no one was coming up on our six, then sprinted after her.
I needed to get back to Jack and the guys. And one way or another, Calista was coming with me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The street was now filled with people.
A fire truck—with no lights or sirens, just a tanker and three men—rolled up to put the fire out. The car that had ignited the explosion was on its side, where it had landed after careening into a pump.
But that was not what had my attention. Pete would handle the ground. I was on the roof of a goddamn grocery store, peering through the scope of my M4, looking for my crazy woman. Mason had taken off toward the dock to circle around to where Cat had disappeared. I saw three men drop, that was the only reason I wasn’t pissed and out-of-my-brain terrified.
I blew out a slow breath to calm my heart rate.
It was there I realized that my breaths were finite.
Yeah, baby, and I’m gonna be mad if you lose yours tonight.
I exhaled again.
Where the hell are you, Catarina?
I caught a heat signature through my scope. A second later there was another. Two figures running. From this distance I couldn’t see faces, but they were definitely women. A third figure came around the structure. My finger gently pressed down, taking the slack out of my trigger, and paused. Mason was wearing a chem light. I didn’t see the hot spot from the stick.
I fired.
The woman in the back looked behind her. Faced front and continued to run but lifted her arm. The second woman was Cat. I watched Mason round the building the women had come from and pick up speed to catch up to Cat and Calista.
I lost sight of the women first, then Mason. I let out a sharp whistle to let Pete know I was coming down. I got one in return. By the time I made it off the roof, Pete had moved to the front of the grocer. Catarina and Mason were flanking Calista Ventura as they jogged across the street.
Pete did not delay in ordering, “We gotta move.”
“She won’t go back to the hotel,” Catarina announced, but did not stop until she walked directly into my arms.
Smart woman.
“You good?”
“How much trouble am I in?”
Together you make the sword. Two shields cover front and back.
I blew out a breath.
“Next time, can you at least take your goddamn phone and wait until I can cover you before you take off?”
Catarina jolted, then she relaxed into me. “Yeah, honey.”
“That’s not an option,” I heard Pete say.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I was the one who jumped out of a car to escape. I think I get to say where I’m going and where I’m not going. And I don’t know who any of you are.”
It was like Calista hadn’t spoken when Pete asked Mase, “Were there any boats down at the dock?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck,” Pete sighed. “Let’s go.”
Calista’s shoulders snapped back, her chin jutted out, and she all but growled, “Again, really grateful for the assist, but I’m not going anywhere—”
“Tom Washington sent us,” Pete explained.
“She already said that,” Calista said as she pointed at Cat. “But who are you, and how do I know I didn’t escape one hell just to walk into another?”
Mason looked thoroughly offended. I wasn’t all that pleased at the inference, but to be fair, the woman didn’t know us.
“I’m Catarina. This is Jack, Mason, and Pete.” Cat pointed to each of us as she announced our names. “Tom went out of his way to track us down in Honduras to ask us to find you and get you safe. You’re obviously important to him—”
“You mean my father was important to him,” she corrected. “He doesn’t think I know what my dad did for him, but I do.”
“Just a suggestion,” Mason started. “Can we please finish this conversation someplace else that’s not on a street next to a burning gas station with bad guys roaming around? We’ve had a good run, but I’d prefer not to get shot at anymore tonight.”
Calista’s gaze was parked on Mase, but the sound of screeching tires pulled her attention to the road.
Obviously she’d made her decision when she declared, “I’ll shoot you if you try—”
Mase jerked his head down toward her hand. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’re out of ammo.”
“Shit.”
“Once we’re on the boat, I’ll reload your magazine,” Mase offered.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
Mason shrugged. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”
That was rich coming from the untrusting Mason.
“Let’s go,” Pete ordered.
With a kiss to the top of Cat’s head, I stepped away from her.
“Where’s my bag?”
“Gone.”
“Bummer. My burner was in there. Now I need a new one.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I think I might vomit,” Cat complained.
“For a badass, you sure do have a weak stomach.”
Cat was sitting with her head between her legs. This time I couldn’t make any excuses for her. At the speed Pete had us at, the boat was barely rocking.
“Almost there,” I told her.
“What happened back there?” Pete asked.
“Which part?” Calista returned.
“Start with how you escaped the hotel.”
“Carlos had me at the hotel. He had two guys with him and a woman. One second I’m tied to a bed, they’re watching TV, the next second the door’s kicked in and four men come in. They shot Carlos, the woman, and his pals. Then one of them untied me and dragged me out to a car.”
“And you jumped from the car?” Pete continued to question.
“Yep.”
“You jumped from a moving car?” he asked again.
“Yeah, after I punched the guy next to me in his dick and took his gun.”
Catarina lifted her head, turned to look at Calista, and smiled.
“I think I like you. That is, when you’re not pointing a gun at my head.”
What. The. Fuck.
“Come again?”
“Don’t worry, it was a misunderstanding. We worked it out.”
My eyelids drifted closed.
I tried and failed to pull up Lincoln’s wisdom.
My hands balled into fists.
Catarina reached over, peeled back my fingers, and laced hers through mine.
“Your palm getting twitchy?”
She thought she was being cute.
For once, she was not.
“Twitchy doesn’t cover it,” I growled.
“Do you have any idea who those men were?” Mason picked up the interrogation.
“No. And no one spoke.”
Well, that was unhelpful.
“Where are you taking me?”
“There’s an airport in Tortuga—”
“Carlos has friends there. Before one of them took us to the dock and gave him a boat, we were at a house near the water. I counted fourteen men there. Two of them came with us to the island.”
The cousin.
Pete slowed the boat as we neared the peninsula of the mainland.
“Jack, check and see if there are any airstrips north.”
I took out my phone and pulled up the map.
“Nothing. We’d have to go thirty miles south of Tortuga. It’s a dirt runway.”
“Not enough gas.”
“Tortuga it is,” Mason decided.
“We’ll pull into the bay and check it out. We could anchor and stay on the boat. Shep said our ride would be here in an hour.”
Catarina groaned at Pete’s declaration.
“Gotta learn to embrace the suck, Kitty Cat,” Mason unwisely remarked.
“I swear on all things holy if you come at me with any more Navy SEAL sayings, I’m tossing you overboard. The only easy day was not yesterday. I’m already someone special, and I don’t need to not back down from sharks because I’m never getting into shark-infested waters. I’m woman enough to admit I’m afraid of them. But if you want to test the waters and take a swim, by all means, buddy, keep talking.”
Mason smiled at Cat, then he turned his attention to Calista.
“Hand me your mag. I’ll reload it.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m a man of my word.”
Calista dropped the mag out of the pistol and handed it to Mason.
With nothing but the sound of the engine and the waves lapping against the hull, I blew a breath.
Cat was sitting next to me.
Safe.
But I was still reddening her ass the first chance I got.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As much as I hated boats, I had to admit the moonlight reflecting off the water was beautiful as Pete navigated the rocky shoreline on our way to Tortuga Bay. I sucked in a deep breath of sea air in an attempt to quell the churning in my stomach. Now was not the time to get sick—for obvious reasons—but beyond that, I was a hundred percent sure Mason would never let me live it down. Me throwing up would give the man years of ammunition I’d rather him not have. I was good with being on the receiving end of a teasing session. Though I preferred to be the one doing the ribbing, I was a good sport and took my knocks.
I just didn’t want those to include me expelling the contents of my stomach into the water. I’d take a firefight over the rocking of a boat or a drop of a roller coaster any day of the week. And, now that Pete had slowed, the way we were rocking . . .
Gah.
Needing to get my mind off the seasickness, I asked, “How did Carlos’s men find you?”
Obviously my question was directed at Calista, and she didn’t delay in her response. “My best guess is a woman I’d been in contact with. I promised her safe passage out of Mexico for information on Carlos.”
“Come again?” Even over the whine of the engine, I could hear Mason’s incredulous tone.
“I made a deal with a woman—”
“You made a deal with an unknown?”
Calista looked highly offended at Mason’s probing.
“You do realize that ninety-nine percent of my interactions start with a cold lead. Most are ice cold. It’s my job to turn those warm, then hot, and get an unknown to turn into an informant or whistleblower. I’d assume the same goes for your profession. I’m not stupid, nor am I careless. Obviously I thought this woman was ripe or I wouldn’t’ve approached her in the first place.”
I really, really wished this conversation wasn’t taking place when my tummy was staging a revolt so I could cheer Calista on. I’d come to adore Mason in a short amount of time, and part of that adoration included me wanting to see him happy. Not that I was under any illusion it would be Calista who would be that woman for him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying her standing up for herself. With Mason’s good looks, he needed someone like Calista, who wouldn’t be taken in by his pretty-boy charm and would shovel shit right back at him.
“Clearly you thought wrong,” Mason remarked as he handed her back her now fully loaded pistol.
