Chapter Seventy-Four

“I’m sorry.” Chris del Valle frowned with genuine disappointment. “He won’t answer.”

No shit.

Frustration held Rory silent and motionless.

“Jeez,” Lena exploded. “You guys are unbelievable!”

She elbowed past a marine and practically shoved Colonel Johnson aside. His muted objection was ignored as she bent over the captive. She clasped the man’s damaged shoulder and dug her thumb into the bullet wound.

He gave an agonized whimper.

She mercilessly continued to apply pressure.

Rory didn’t like it, but they didn’t have time to pussyfoot around. He glanced at the colonel, who gave a slight nod. Even so, Rory watched her carefully, in case she went too far.

She leaned closer, her face just an inch from the prisoner’s. She whispered something and gave the man a very Lena smile.

Rory had no idea what she said, but it proved effective. The man’s resistance crumbled, and he frantically bobbed his head up and down.

“Ask him,” she ordered Chris, her lips a tight line as the continued pressure of her hand kept the man cringing in pain.

Chris repeated her questions.

Rory had no trouble understanding the man’s frequent denials, his voice hoarse and his face drawn. At his last words, Lena suddenly twisted deeper, drawing an agonized scream from the captive, then let go. Furiously, she accused the man of being a liar. She backed up with tightly controlled violence and stalked back to her spot by the window.

“What?” Rory demanded, looking at Chris for clarification.

“He said that there are still twelve men outside, but not this Creed you mentioned. He was just paid—a rather large sum, I might add—to get a Latino woman out of here or, if that proved impossible, to kill her.” There was curiosity and sincere concern in her tone.

“He’s lying!” Lena growled from the window.

A bullet burst through the glass and drilled into the opposite wall, punctuating her words. The colonel swore and called up to Hoffman to do her goddamn job. Responding gunfire overhead announced that she’d heard.

“Bastards!” Lena snarled, stepping over the shattered glass. “He is out there. I can feel him, the sneaky son of a bitch!”

“These people are insane,” said the colonel through clenched teeth. “What the hell do they think to achieve attacking my base like this?”

Rory fully understood the colonel’s frustration but had no answers. To Chris he said, “Ask him if he knows anything about Rising Sun.”

Though it was clear the reporter would like nothing more than to pounce on that particular subject, she restrained herself and just translated the question.

The mercenary tensed and quickly shook his head at the mention of the sect—which was all the answer Rory needed.

“He says he knows nothing about that. I think he’s lying,” Chris said.

A barrage of bullets from outside pelted cabinets, walls, and the collection of picture frames that adorned them, in a violent spray that was over as fast as it had started.

A quick glance showed Lena squatting against the wall, safely away from flying bullets.

The marines returned fire.

“This is turning into a major clusterfuck,” the colonel muttered. “We’re retreating to the roof until that chopper arrives. We’re sitting ducks down here.”

“Sir!” Sergeant Hoffman called urgently from above. “They’re moving in on the main complex. Better get the civilians out now. The chopper will be landing in courtyard C at 04:07. I’ve already let Westlake and Jericho know. They’ll be there.”

“Understood, Sergeant,” the colonel shouted back. He strode to the armory to get a rifle. “Let’s haul ass, O’Donnell. I’ll join Hoffman to lay down cover fire for you. Simms and his men will take you out the back way. These mercs are going to find out my men won’t stay pinned down for long.”

Voice gruff, the colonel wished them good luck, shook Rory’s hand, and made short work of joining his men on the roof.

“Right.” Rory reached for Lena. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. Crossing the room, she scooped up an extra ammo clip from the armory, then grabbed Chris and dragged her along. The reporter was smart enough not to object. “You’re such a spoilsport sometimes, O’Donnell.”

They filed down the corridor, a couple of marines in the lead, followed by Chris, then Rory and Lena, with another marine bringing up the rear.

Moving hastily down the narrow corridor, they heard the colonel bark at his men. “All right people. Let’s show these sons of bitches whose base this is!”

Before they knew it, they were out in the pouring rain, moving from one building to the next. Gun ready, Rory stuck close to Lena, who seemed to be in her element out in this storm with the sound of gunfire all over the place.

It was the pounding rain that first masked a soft buzz from the speakers positioned throughout the compound. It started as a murmur, then became louder until, finally, a voice could be heard.

“Ada,” it beckoned. “Ada!”