Anger fueled by pure adrenaline pushed him past the point of murder as Ace climbed into the passenger seat of his truck and Chaos slid in behind the steering wheel. Ortega may have escaped them once but there was no way in hell he would let it happen again. Nothing could stop him from planting a bullet right between Ortega’s eyes this time.
“Sure you don’t want to drive?” Chaos pushed the brake pedal and then the ignition button.
“Nope.” He reached behind the seat, grabbed his rifle, chambered a round, and then lowered his window. “I’m more accurate from over here.”
“Then I say we blow this Popsicle stand.”
“Hell yeah.”
Chaos shifted the truck into reverse and then into drive. The sound of squealing tires filled the cab just as smoke drifted through his window.
“Easy on the tires,” he mumbled.
The other man shrugged and then smirked. “Yours sound better than mine.”
While Chaos sped through the city streets, Ace placed his weapon, barrel up, on his right side against the floorboard and then rested it against the seat. If he had his way, Ortega would meet his maker in less than thirty minutes. He tapped three fingers against his thigh and concentrated on the route while he refused to allow panic to intervene. As long as Chaos delivered him to the rendezvous point, they were home free – and Chaos would get him there, this he knew without a doubt. Yet, he wouldn’t totally relax until he had Ortega centered in his crosshairs.
His gaze immediately shot to the audio system screen when the sound of the Lone Ranger’s theme song broke the silence and blared from the radio’s speakers. Thunder’s phone number flashed in bold, white numbers.
Chaos raised an eyebrow. “Better not let him hear that.”
“Hit the Bluetooth button.” He waited for the telltale tone to signal that the call had been connected. “Go, Captain.”
“Looks like Remington was holding out on us.” Thunder’s revelation didn’t surprise him. “New intel reveals Ortega financed ninety-five percent of the project.”
“Damn,” Chaos mumbled.
“Under the radar,” Rebel added. “He created a bogus company to disguise the intent of his business.”
“We know he plans to ship drugs in and out of the port,” Chaos said as he drove through a not-so-yellow traffic light. “But why Everglade Springs?”
Ace wondered the same thing. As a member of the Montez crew, Ortega hailed from Mexico and Montez claimed both the western and southern borders of the United States as his territorial stomping ground. Brave move, venturing into Cuban-run business. Although, Montez was a cocky sucker and Ace wouldn’t put it past him to claim the whole continent.
“So Remington knew all along that community support wasn’t mandatory.” Ace voiced his conclusion as calmly as possible while his nerves jumped beneath his skin.
“Not necessarily. Ortega didn’t file any financials from his company to support his assets. It is possible Remington wasn’t aware of Ortega’s motive. Besides, there still has to be a vote for the tax to pass.”
Ace still wasn’t convinced. “And if it doesn’t?”
“The port operates as a privately-funded entity.”
“Exactly what we don’t want,” Chaos admitted.
Rebel continued. “I know you’re skeptical, Ace, but something tells me Remington’s in as much danger as Carley.”
Damn straight he was skeptical. Victim or not, Remington exposed Carley to the sick son-of-a-bitch and did so willingly – all in the name of business. At this point, Remington would have to be near death to earn sympathy from him.
“As expected, Ortega isn’t working alone.” Again, Thunder’s information didn’t surprise him.
“How many?”
“One at the port. Seven enroute by boat.”
Frankly, he didn’t give a rat’s ass how many others were involved. He’d take every single one of them out – whether they touched one hair on her head or not.
“Anyone we know?”
“Affirmative. His sidekick is another Montez associate. The others are second-string players in the game out of Cuba.”
“Cleared for entry into the U.S.?”
“They all hold a passport. Legal as far as the government is concerned.”
Chaos grinned and Ace clenched his jaw as they rounded a corner on two wheels. “Not much of an ambush when we know the particulars.”
Ace agreed, immensely grateful for their connections. Although it took time, it was amazing how one name could open the floodgates of information. And in this case, Miguel Ortega had made sure Alpha Four would find him once they dug deep enough.
Thunder continued to relay facts. “Everglade SWAT is scrambled. They’ll wait for my signal.”
“We’re on your tail,” Rebel told them. “There’s an orange grove approximately fifteen hundred yards from the port. If we go in dark, we can park there and buy some time. Once we get ready to storm the place there’s no reliable cover other than the darkness.”
“Affirmative.” Ace frowned. “If Ortega funded the whole thing personally, why the hell would he even bother with Carley?”
As soon as the question left his lips, the air went deathly still. Hell, oxygen ceased to exist and he cursed the nausea in his gut. Suddenly, the whole sickening plot assembled in his brain. Ortega lured Remington to get close to Carley, then preyed on Carley to lure Alpha Four. Only, there was only one member of Alpha Four who had a relationship with Carley – and a history with Ortega.
“Carley has nothing to do with this.” He fought past the incredible darkness that threatened to consume him. “He’s after me.”
***
Carley released a deep sigh, thoroughly confused by the accommodations in which her captors had placed her and Christopher. Although their hands were still securely bound, they had been shuffled upstairs and into a room furnished with a comfortable brown, leather sofa and two large matching leather chairs. A wooden dining table and four chairs occupied one corner of the room and a refrigerator/freezer combination rested in the other. There were no windows tucked into the walls but fluorescent light shone from two units in the ceiling.
The door had been locked but they were free to pace the room and for half a panicked second she entertained the thought of screaming. She had quickly ruled out that plan of action partly because she’d never been a decent screamer but mostly because the port was isolated. The only things screaming would get her were a gag in her mouth and a sore throat.
Instead, she listened intently to see if she could gather any more information about this bizarre circumstance. Muffled voices seeped beneath the door but they were just that – she couldn’t understand the conversation, Spanish or not. On a positive note that meant they weren’t close.
Satisfied they were alone, she glanced at Christopher, slumped in one of the chairs with his elbows braced on his knees and his lead lowered.
“Christopher,” she whispered.
He raised his head.
“Come here, but do it quietly,” she continued.
Once he sat beside her on the sofa, she wasted no time in explaining her plan.
“Reach down the front of my dress. On the left side – your right – there’s a strap. My cell phone is tucked there.”
His eyes widened and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “They said you were clean.”
“Just do it,” she spat. “Believe me, I wouldn’t allow you to do it if it weren’t necessary.”
She leaned forward, thrust her breasts outward, and used her fingers to pull on the material of her dress.
Christopher cautiously slid his hands inside.
“Use your fingers,” she told him as she nearly jumped from the cold temperature of his hands, “and work it loose from the bottom.”
“I feel like I’m violating my sister,” he mumbled.
Despite the severity of the situation, she released a tiny giggle. “We have to get it back in there so be careful.”
With fumbling fingers, Christopher managed to free the phone from its restraint and lifted it with two fingers, finally dropping it into her lap. She pressed a button at the bottom and then frowned when the home screen failed to appear.
“What’s wrong?” Christopher whispered.
“My phone is turned off.”
“Since when? That thing is practically body jewelry for you.”
“I didn’t turn it off. It must’ve gotten squeezed too tightly in my dress.”
“It was pretty snug,” he murmured.
She pressed the power button, relieved when the screen lit up and the device began the booting-up ritual. And when the service bars in the right corner turned green, she almost jumped up and down.
“If I stand next to the refrigerator,” she said as she stood, “the hum should muffle the sound of my voice.”
Encouraged, she walked toward the corner of the room and opened her contact list. Quickly, she pressed the icon that would summon help.
Except, the call refused to connect.
“Really?” she grumbled, now severely ticked off. The service bars registered empty.
She walked back to the sofa, checking the status in between. Nothing.
“I had service for a second, but not now.” She sat down hard next to Christopher on the sofa.
“It’s sketchy out here.”
“What about Wi-Fi?”
“It hasn’t been installed yet.”
She glanced back at the screen, almost hopeful when two bars turned green. Then, just as quickly they turned back to grey. She glanced at the door. The voices began to clear and she knew it was too risky to try again.
“We have to put it back,” she told him as she handed him the phone. “I left it on just in case the signal strengthens.”
And hopefully the battery would stay charged.
This time, the process went much more smoothly and she relaxed back against the sofa when the device was tucked away.
“Who are these men?”
“I only know the one. His name is Miguel Ortega.”
“Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Only in port business. He contacted me when we solicited investors for the venture.”
“He provided financial support?”
“Lots. In fact, he’s practically funded the whole operation alone.”
She tilted her head to one side. “So you really don’t need my family’s support.”
“Not financially,” he admitted, “but it means more to me to have the verbal support. I value your family’s opinion, Carley.”
She swallowed hard to rid herself of the guilt she felt by accusing him of the whole sordid mess. Obviously, Christopher was a pawn in a very tangled web of deceit.
“Why did Mr. Ortega offer so much support?”
“He claims his company will benefit from the increased access to shipping opportunities.”
“What company?”
Christopher sighed hard. “We didn’t get that far. He simply handed over the cash and said we would get to the paperwork later.”
The voices behind the door suddenly grew louder.
“I should’ve known –“
“Ssshh!” She placed a hand over his and squeezed as she listened.
“Where is the transport?”
“Patience. It will be here soon. Besides, the delay gives me the opportunity I’ve awaited for quite some time.”
“Do you suppose he will be surprised to see you?”
Maniacal, cold laughter followed.
“Oh, yes. He will believe he has seen a ghost. Only, this ghost will not give him a second opportunity to defeat me.”
Carley frowned in confusion as she glanced at Christopher. “Do you know who they’re talking about?”
“No, but it sounds like they’re out for revenge.”
She agreed with his analysis. Apparently, she and Christopher had been brought here to lure someone else. Suddenly, her blood ran cold. There was only one person she knew that these men would use her to bait.
“Christopher,” she said as her heart hammered in her chest. “They’re expecting Ace.”
***
As Chaos turned off the truck’s headlights and drove down a dirt path into the heart of the orange grove, Ace cursed the conclusion he’d drawn about Ortega’s motive. Revenge was a powerful and nasty motivator; this he knew for a fact. He ran one hand across the back of his neck while he squeezed the barrel of his weapon with the other and hoped like hell they could get to Carley before Ortega lost his patience. Experience told him the bastard would wait for them but the same experience also told him that there was always the risk of spontaneity.
His trigger finger itched while he mentally rehearsed the confrontation with the madman. Normally, a mission required a variety of methodical objections; this time there were only three: point, click, and kill.
Chaos parked next to a clump of trees and killed the engine. “You ready to rumble?”
He simply nodded and glanced into the side view mirror to assure Thunder and Rebel parked behind them. Both men exited Thunder’s truck, prompting both him and Chaos to do the same. While they grabbed their packs from behind the seat, he could’ve sworn the locusts sang the funeral march.
“You locked and loaded?” Thunder asked as they met at the tailgate.
“Always.”
The captain handed each of them a bulletproof vest and an earpiece. “Rebel will scout the perimeter so we know what kind of booby trap we’re walking into.”
Rebel tightened his vest around his torso, poked his earpiece into his ear, and then like the ghost he was, he faded into the night.
Ace braced his rifle against the truck, tossed his pack to the ground, and then yanked his tie from his collar. “I’ve got to get out of this monkey suit.”
“First thing I did,” Thunder mumbled.
While he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders and off his body, he gazed around the area, encouraged by the inky darkness. At least the cloud cover would somewhat protect them.
He bent to grab a black t-shirt from the duffel and then crammed it over his head. “How long do you think we have, Captain?”
“All night. He’s not going anywhere. It’s just a matter of dealing with his crew.”
“Piece of cake.” Chaos undressed and re-dressed beside him. “If I hit the boat first I can eliminate most of them.”
Ace stepped into a pair of jeans and then pulled them over his hips. “He may think twice without the get-away vessel.”
“Except, he has two hostages,” Thunder pointed out.
Sonuvabitch. Although Thunder’s statement wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, he wasn’t real keen on hearing it. Yet, facts were facts and sometimes the truth was a cold-hearted bitch. He crammed his feet back into his combat boots and squeezed the laces so tightly as he wound them around the hooks that he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t snap.
He straightened just as Rebel approached the truck. “Anything we didn’t already know?”
Rebel shook his head. “Not much. No one is watching the perimeter as far as I can tell. I’m assuming they’re planning an ambush when we breach the entry.”
“Any trip wires?” Chaos strapped on his vest and stuffed several explosive devices into the pockets.
“Not on the outside of the building.”
Ace snickered. “Wouldn’t help business to blow up the place.”
“Won’t stop me,” Chaos said matter-of-factly.
Thunder stuck his weapon in the strap on his vest. “Did you get a location on the occupants?”
“From my vantage point, I didn’t see anyone near the front door. I got several short pings from Carley’s phone – she’s inside. I’m assuming Ortega is waiting for us in the back and that Carley and Remington are stashed upstairs.”
Ace released a hard breath as he strapped his vest to his body and positioned the earpiece inside his ear. If Rebel’s assumption was correct and they could confront Ortega on the lower level, at least Carley would be outside the line of fire. Nah, that would be too easy. Ortega wasn’t stupid; he’s most likely run for Carley as soon as he was alerted to their presence.
“I disabled the cameras,” Rebel continued, “but once we enter, we’re fresh meat.”
Thunder lifted his wrist and soon the green light on his watch illuminated the area. “Any evidence of the transport?”
“No. In fact, the boat slips in the marina are empty.”
“Thanks to the construction,” Ace muttered.
Thunder stepped away from the truck. “It’s go time. Rebel and I will cover the doors. Chaos, the marina is yours.” Although he couldn’t see the captain’s face clearly, Ace knew he frowned. “Are you sure you want to break entry?”
“Absolutely.”
“Really?” Thunder pressed. “She may very well witness something you don’t want her to.”
He paused briefly to consider the other man’s warning while he admitted to himself that Carley could witness his murder. He quickly pushed that notion to the side as quickly as it had entered. It was worth the risk to save her life and that’s all there was to it.
“Absolutely,” he repeated.
Thunder nodded. “I expect to find all of us in one piece when this is over.”
“Same goes for the mark?” The cold tone in his teammate’s voice told Ace that they already knew the answer to Rebel’s question.
“Just us.” The captain moved his gaze directly onto him. “I’ll expect that wizard to work his magic.”
Bent low to the ground with his weapon in hand, Ace ran behind Thunder and Rebel to the entrance of the port. Following Thunder’s previous instructions, he crouched outside the front door. Chaos headed to the back of the building while Thunder and Rebel moved to cover the additional doors.
He took half a second to clear his mind and focus on the fact that no matter what happened to him in the long run, Ortega would pay and Carley would be freed. With his heart pounding in his chest, he stood, threw open the front door, and stepped inside.
He lifted his weapon to eye level, fitted his index finger to the familiar, worn notch on the trigger, and then issued a booming command. “Get the hell out here, Ortega.”
The fluorescent lighting hummed in the otherwise still interior, his request unanswered. This did not surprise him.
“You’re going to have to confront me one way or the other,” he taunted as he made his way to the back of the building. “Dead or alive, I really don’t care.”
Movement to his right and near the back door caused him to turn and aim his rifle just in time to see a large, burly man point a gun at him and then fall to the floor in a heap.
“Bingo,” Rebel said into his earpiece.
Encouraged that there was now just one target, Ace continued his search, convinced Ortega knew they had just taken his man down.
“Anyone have a fix on Carley?”
“Negative,” Thunder answered. “I’ve got Remington. They had him secured to a barrel on the dock. He advises they left her alone.”
Ace cursed under his breath. Obviously Ortega and his associate had separated their hostages. If Thunder had Remington, that left only one person to guard Carley.
He concentrated hard to keep a threatened quiver out of his voice. “Ortega! Grow some balls and face me.”
As soon as he issued the request, creaking footsteps caught his attention and he looked to see the man himself descending the flight of stairs – with Carley held at gunpoint in front of him.
“I am here, Mr. Moore. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Ace snorted while he forced his incredible fear to the side. “You invited me, remember?”
“I do not.” He continued to maneuver down the steps while he pushed the weapon against Carley’s back. “But as long as you’re here, we might as well converse.”
“I didn’t come to talk.” He cocked the rifle. “Let her go.”
“I have no intention of doing so.”
“You don’t want her. You want me.”
“True.” The lunatic had the gall to smile. “But she can identify me in case of some unfortunate circumstance. That makes her a liability.”
Carley’s eyes rounded to the size of saucers and his heart turned over in his chest. He had to make the exchange as quickly as possible.
“We’ve got company,” Thunder said in his ear. “Get ready, Ace.”
As soon as the revelation resonated against his eardrum, an earth-shattering boom shook the building. Pieces of wood and plaster flew from the back of the building and into the area where they stood.
“Get down, Carley!” he yelled as he hit the floor to dodge the debris. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
He hesitated only a second before he lifted his head to get a fix on his target. Unfortunately, Ortega stood above her. Damn, the guy must have made a deal with the devil.
“Nice try.” The other man gave an evil snicker as he reached to pull Carley of the floor by one arm. “Get up, my dear.”
Carley stood and then began to struggle in his grasp. Ace quickly rose to his feet and centered Ortega back in the crosshairs of his scope.
“Be still, Carley,” he said calmly.
“She will do no such thing.” Ortega pressed the gun against her temple. “You drop your weapon or it will not matter how much she struggles.”
Ace knew he had no choice; it was now or never. He simply couldn’t take the chance Ortega would make good on his ultimatum. He drew in a slow breath, released it just as slowly, and just as his lungs pushed the last bit of air from his lips, he pulled the trigger.
Time stood still as he waited for the bullet to penetrate brain and just when he thought the wait was over, he was sure someone punched him in the gut. His hands relaxed on his weapon and both he and the rifle fell to the floor. He took one last look at Ortega on the way down, satisfied that the other man fell faster than he – with a blossoming red spot right between his eyes.
The last thing he heard as he lay flat on the concrete was Thunder’s voice in his ear.
“Man down.”