Dangerous Pursuit (OSI Dark Ops #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Listen up.” Jonathan’s voice was nice and clear in Calliope’s earpiece. “Sammy identified the man with the satchel as Bastien Marroquin, Lorenzo Marroquin’s nephew. He also happens to be a doctor. The woman is Paloma Triano, Triano’s twenty-two-year-old daughter. We’re not sure what her involvement is, but she is to be considered armed and dangerous until proven otherwise.”

Everyone confirmed they’d received the update and went back to their assigned task.

“I’ll go east. You go west.” Calliope wiped the sap from the blade of her knife on her pants and slid it back into the leather sheath.

The big knife had been passed down from her great-grandfather to her granddad, then to her dad, who’d given it to her on her eighteenth birthday. Her friends had all teased her about what a weird gift it was, but she’d actually cried when she opened it. And Calliope was not a crier .

“Sounds good.” Viking tightened the strap of his glove around his wrist. “Head on a swivel.”

“You, too.” She drew her Glock from the holster and racked back the slide to ensure a round was in the chamber.

Viking did the same.

They knocked knuckles, checked the coordinates on their GPS devices attached to their vests, then headed off in opposite directions. Multiple sets of specific coordinates had been loaded into each of their portable, high-tech, military-grade DAGRs, Defense Advanced GPS Receivers. Hers included the area where she could best provide overwatch to the shack, the dock, and the rendezvous point where Hawk and Eddie would have the girls hidden.

Calliope swiped branches out of her path, darted around various types of palms and oaks, and splashed through puddles left behind by yesterday’s storm. Less than fifteen minutes later, her DAGR beeped, indicating she was close to her destination. She slowed to a stop, grabbed the water bottle from her vest, and twisted off the cap. She took a quick drink, tucked the water back into the appropriate pocket, and scanned the entire area. Her gaze stopped on a massive oak with tendrils of moss hanging almost to the ground.

“Hello, darlin’.” She circled the wide base, stopped, and looked up to the canopy of trees blocking out the sunlight. “Perfect.” She gave the tree a little love pat, stretched her arms up to the lowest branch, and determined it was about six inches from the tips of her fingers.

Calliope holstered her pistol, made sure her rifle strap was snug to her body, and tightened the straps on her gloves. She pulled her hat off, rolled it up, and stuffed it into one of the many pockets in her pants.

“Here goes nothin’.” She swung her arms and jumped up at the same time. Her gloves scratched over the rough bark until they gained purchase on the branch.

She grunted and pulled herself up, thankful for the workouts Andi had given her to increase her upper body strength. She huffed a few breaths and threw one leg up and over to straddle the thick branch. With no time to waste, she scrambled to her feet and scaled the tree as high as safely feasible, then situated herself in a secure position.

Calliope lifted her rifle strap over her head, rested the end of the barrel on a branch in front of her, and nestled the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. She settled her cheek against the sweet spot on the stock, looked through the scope, and swept the horizon.

The river was off to the right, and off to the left, there were two quick flashes of light. That was Viking’s signal that he was in position. Calliope slid her small flashlight free, clicked it on and off two times, then stowed it away. She continued scanning until the peak of the thatched roof came into view. She tilted the barrel down an inch and was able to see the structure in the middle of a small clearing. There was a muddy, makeshift path leading away from the hut and headed in the direction of the river.

“In position,” Calliope whispered. “I have eyes on the front half of the shack.” She focused on the building. “Estimate size at about twenty by twenty, thatched roof, plank siding, elevated about three feet above ground, with steps leading up to a single wood door. Light is coming through some of the wood planks. No windows that I can see.”

“In position.” Viking checked in. “One door at the back of the structure with steps; no windows back there, either.”

“Sentries?” Cole whispered.

Calliope scanned the area around the hut.

“Sentry one is sitting on a stump near the base of the front steps.” She rolled her eyes. “Dumbass is smoking a joint.”

I wonder how Triano would feel about that?

“I’ve got a man coming out the back door. Hang on … he just leaned his rifle against a tree and …” Viking continued, “He’s taking a leak.”

“Take ’em out.” Jonathan gave the order.

“Gladly.” Calliope closed one eye and dialed in her scope. The second her guy was dead-center of the crosshairs, she slowly squeezed the trigger.

Thwip .

His body jerked, his cap flew straight up, and the joint dropped from his lifeless hand as he tipped sideways and landed face down in the mud.

Fitting end for the piece of shit.

“Sentry one down,” Calliope reported.

Viking spoke next. “Sentry two down.”

“Nothing like dying with your dick in your hand.” The thought of it gave Calliope great joy.

“Triano is en route.” Lucas spoke for the first time, and just hearing his voice affected her. “There are twelve total souls on board, including four men we’re assuming are the buyers’ reps and four others, most likely bodyguards. ETA, approximately ten minutes.”

She’d been pretty disappointed and, yes, pissed off about the stupid comment he made during the mission brief. Did he really have so little faith in her abilities? Now, having cooled down somewhat, she realized she should’ve done the mature thing and taken him aside and explained why she was upset. Perhaps then things wouldn’t be so strained between them. But no, she’d gotten her back up like always and basically shut him out.

“Open comms,” Jonathan ordered.

She double-tapped her earpiece, and everyone else would do the same. Open comms meant they could communicate and hear each other hands-free. Some might think things could get chaotic if they all started talking over each other, but their team was a well-oiled machine, and it was never an issue.

One by one, they confirmed with, “Comms open.”

“Eddie and Hawk, move in.” The urgency behind Cole’s command solidified everyone’s focus. “Get the girls to the designated location and make sure you keep them quiet.”

They would watch over them until Triano, Marroquin, and the rest of them were neutralized.

Calliope kept her eyes on the hut and waited for Eddie and Hawk to appear. A few minutes later, she spotted them exiting the tree line in a crouch, rifles up.

Calliope and Viking would take care of any surprise bad guys that might pop up.

“We’re in position,” Cole whispered.

He, Jonathan, and Lucas were concealed near the dock.

Hawk circled around to the back of the shack.

Eddie moved silently up the front steps.

“Enter on three,” Hawk murmured. “One, two, three.”

Both doors were kicked in simultaneously, and she could hear the sound of wood shattering beneath their boots. They charged inside, and the screams from the girls echoed all the way to where Calliope was perched.

Through her earpiece, she heard Eddie switching between Spanish and English, trying to calm them down without raising his voice. The girls quieted, and there were low whimpers, and for a few minutes, they could hear the sound of rustling.

“We’re comin’ out,” Hawk said.

“All clear,” Calliope and Viking said at the same time.

Hawk burst through the front doorway and charged down the stairs with a little girl hanging limp in his arms. A group of girls and young women came out right behind him. The older girls held the hands of the younger ones. Eddie brought up the rear carrying another way too thin child.

“Shack is empty.” Hawk’s voice was jumpy as he ran away from the hut. “Twenty-eight girls secured.”

Son of a bitch.

One girl was missing.

The group scurried into the brush on the far side of the clearing and disappeared into the dark jungle.

Calliope slung her rifle over her back, scrambled down through the branches, and headed toward the shack. She walked into the small clearing, squatted down, and verified the sentry was dead.

“Don’t shoot me.” Viking rounded the corner of the shack and sauntered over to her with those ridiculously long legs of his.

They did a quick walk-through of the hut. The wood floor on one side of the room was covered with filthy, ratty, old mattresses. Calliope leaned over and picked up a small pair of muddy, pink tennis shoes and some flip-flops similar to the ones Lucas had bought for her. A dirty, beat-up teddy bear with one eye missing peeked out from beneath one of the bedrolls on the floor. Viking walked over, tugged it free, and stuffed it into a pocket on his pants.

Those little shoes and that raggedy old teddy bear really drove home the fact that these poor girls were ripped from their homes and the safety of their families. It tore her heart up to think of what they’d suffered.

“Heading to the rendezvous point.” Viking updated the team, and they jogged down the steps from the shack and started toward the tree line. At six foot eight, he was big enough to clear a nice path for her, so he led the way.

They were going to provide additional cover for Hawk, Eddie, and the girls.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out from the direction of the river.

“Shit!” She stopped, and her head spun toward the sound.

“Go! I’ll head to the rendezvous point.” Viking gave her a gentle push, and she took off.

Calliope took off across the clearing and muscled her way through the thick bushes on the other side. She dodged branches and leaped over vines creeping across her path and threatening to keep her from getting there before …

No, she refused to let her mind go there .

“Report!” she shouted, hoping someone would respond.

They did not.

The gunshots stopped for a few seconds, then started up again. She increased her speed, vaulted over a rotting tree lying across her path. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to him .

Calliope heard voices, came to a sudden stop, and her boots slid across the wet ground. She remained stock still, closed her eyes, and listened.

“That’s the guy from the bar,” a man with an accent shouted from somewhere off to the right. “The American!”

She headed into a thick patch of ferns and battled thorny ivy slashing her cheeks until she spotted the yacht about fifty yards away. Jonathan and Cole were on the upper deck of the yacht.

Her eyes frantically scanned the area looking for Lucas, and she found him, pinned down behind a tree about ten or fifteen feet away. He dropped a magazine from his pistol, quickly slammed another in, and fired toward the river.

Marroquin was chest-deep in the water, shooting back at Lucas from behind one of the dock pilings.

On the other side of the boat, a small dinghy hung at a sharp angle, held aloft by a single support strap at the front. It knocked against the hull, and the sharp angle caused the back end to dangle in the water. Triano stood in the water next to it, tugging on the support rope, trying to wrestle it loose. There was a loud splash when the dinghy finally broke free and crashed into the river.

Lucas leaned out from behind the tree just long enough to take a shot at Triano. But the angle was all wrong.

One of Marroquin’s bullets hit the tree too damn close to Lucas’s head. Splinters of bark kicked out and flew in his face.

“Fuck!” he yelled, ducked back, and scrubbed his hand over his eyes.

She fought through the thorny bushes to get closer but couldn’t get a shot off on Marroquin.

Triano saw his opportunity, turned his attention from the dinghy, and started out of the water toward Lucas.

“You are the son of a bitch who has been trying to destroy me.” Murder darkened his eyes, and he raised his gun.

Calliope saw red.

She charged out of the bushes, got down on one knee, and raised her rifle to take him out.

Triano swung his arm in her direction, and, from that point on, everything seemed to slow waaay down.

Through her scope, she saw his finger begin to move.

She curled her finger over the trigger and focused on his center mass.

“NOOO!” Lucas shouted .

Calliope pulled the trigger at the exact moment a large body slammed into her, wrapped her up, and tumbled them into the bushes.