Flint’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #3)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Midnight.

And no sign of the men. Just shadows and rain — some fog rolling in off the ocean.

They’d show. Flint knew it. Felt it. Like another premonition in the SEAL part of his brain. A foreshadowing that one way or another, it would end here. Tonight.

Flint glanced over at Snider. The man hadn’t said more than a few words since they’d shown up on his doorstep, Emery leading the way. She’d gone inside alone for several minutes, then returned and waved them in. Snider had eyed each of the seven men, focusing on Flint once they others had fanned out around his living room. Snider hadn’t questioned him, but the man had made it clear he expected Flint to rise to all of his expectations. Like the night Flint had backed up Emery.

Emery had kept true to her promise, only staying long enough for the men to settle in — set up different vantage points — before leaving with her brother. Sure, she’d given Flint one hell of a soul-searing kiss. But she hadn’t tried to sway him.

He loved that about her. That she trusted him enough to finish the mission for her when he knew it was tearing her up inside.

“O’Connell.”

Flint glanced over his shoulder at Ted Lewis. One of the tactical guys Milligan had picked to be part of the impromptu JSOC crew Porter had created. Flint didn’t have all the details, only that the three officers were needed to keep Flint and his buddy’s asses out of jail when the night inevitably ended bloody. “Lewis.”

Lewis made a point of sweeping the room before motioning toward the factory. “It’s midnight and a storm has pushed in. No one’s showing up, now.”

Flint gave his teammates a quick side eye, noting similar clenched jaws and furrowed brows. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll use the storm as cover. Regardless, we’re not bugging out, yet. So, get comfortable.”

Lewis pushed out his chest. “This isn’t a SEAL mission and you’re not in charge.”

“You’re right because if this were a SEAL mission, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So, feel free to leave if that’s your prerogative. I’m sure Milligan will understand.”

“Milligan would have cleared us out an hour ago.”

“Not this time.”

“You don’t?—”

“Movement.”

Flint turned as Carter’s voice sounded through the room. Calm. Determined. The easy familiarity of it drowning out any doubts that they’d been wrong.

He moved over to the telescope, taking a turn peering through.

Two vehicles rolling down the road. No headlights. Only the occasional glint off a distant streetlight giving them away. They turned into the lot, parking where that hatchback had been the other night.

He straightened, giving Bowie a turn.

“That’s definitely our guys. Looks like they switched out the panel vans for a more government agency vibe.” Bowie glanced at Flint. “Curious that they’d do that tonight when we’re planning a raid.”

“Isn’t it though.” Flint stared out the window toward the factory. “You thinking ten tangos based on how low those Suburbans are riding?”

“Make that fifteen. Third bogey just pulled up. And these guys aren’t playing. They’ve got night vision, body armor. AR-15s. What looks like grenades on their vests.”

Carter took a look. “That kind of armor will slow them down. But it’ll take more punishment than most. Quinn? How are you feeling about that overwatch with the fog and rain kicking up?”

“We haven’t been on leave that long, brother.”

Lewis lined up next, shaking his head once he’d had a look. “Color me impressed, O’Connell. All right. As discussed, Flint, I’ll go with you. Sam’s with Bowie and Luke with Carter. We’ll work our way inside — try to wrangle them without it turning into a bloodbath. Though, I doubt that’s how it’ll go down.”

Lewis twirled his finger in the air and the other men moved out. Flint paused to nod at his team, that prickling between his shoulder blades teasing his senses, again. Not quite a full-blown warning. More of a suggestion that something was off. Bowie gave him a light shove as he moved past, disappearing into the brush a moment later, Sam on his heels. And Flint had to admit, the other men were skilled. Looking as natural as Carter and Bowie as they vanished into the night.

Lewis met Flint on the driveway, then took off, winding his way down the pavement then across a field and onto the road below. The man headed straight for the parking lot, double checking each vehicle before making a dash to the right side of the main door. He barely waited for Flint to take his position on the left before he was palming the handle — darting inside.

Flint cursed, moving into position on Lewis’ six. Ensuring no one flanked them. They cleared their section of the main floor, then slowly picked their way over to the stairs. Voices echoed down from above. Not loud enough Flint could make out the words. More of a low din that held an almost ghostly quality to it.

They took up point, waiting for the others to arrive, when two men appeared at the top, pausing long enough to do a quick sweep of the area before slowly making their way down. Rifles notched into their shoulders. Night vision in place.

Bowie had been right. These guys were fully kitted out. Not that Flint and his crew weren’t wearing protection, but they’d opted for lighter vests in order to give them the most mobility. They wouldn’t take on multiple rounds from armor-piercing bullets, but the trade-off was worth it.

Flint lined up the lead guy, following his progression down the stairs. He could have eliminated him with a single trigger pull, but even with suppressors, the lingering report would have alerted the rest of the crew. Instead, he waited, staying low until the men reached the bottom and turned left.

That was his signal to move. A push off the wall and Flint was quick-stepping across the floor. Staying low. Rifle at the ready. A dart around the staircase and the men were in view. Backs facing him. Their attention focused straight ahead.

Half a dozen steps and Flint and Lewis were on them. Allowing their rifles to rotate to their sides as they seamlessly switched to their tasers. A quick lunge and a grab, and they had the men by the jaws — their heads turned off to one side. A press of the unit against their necks and the tangos were thrashing from the voltage, arcs of blue light glowing on their skin. Less than ten seconds, and the bastards were down, legs still jerking. Low moans sounding around them.

Flint dragged his guy off to the side, securing a piece of tape across his mouth before hogtying him with zap straps then tossing his weapons off to one side. Lewis followed suit, giving Flint a thumbs up before signaling back to the staircase. Flint moved in behind the other man, thankful when his teammates materialized out of the shadows. Both men moving like wraiths. They met at the bottom, Flint and Lewis taking point as Bowie, Sam, Luke and Carter started up.

The other men darted to either side once they’d reached the top, allowing Flint and Lewis to leg it up the stairs — move in beside them. A few hand signals and they were heading down the main corridor, pausing to clear every branching room before striking off, again. Heading for that same spot he and Emery had witnessed the flashlight beams that first night. What was likely the main staging area.

Only Flint knew the group would have more countermeasures in place tonight. Guards at the door. Blankets covering the windows. Maybe tripwires along the hallways. Flint wasn’t sure if they’d actually use explosives or if it would be more lights and sound, but it would ruin any chance at surprising the group.

Bowie held up his fist a moment later, pointing to the low cable strung across the corridor. That trap Flint had just been thinking about. His buddy took a minute to move it off to one side without activating it, then they were off, again. Closing in on the far junction. Carter and Luke went first, sweeping the adjoining corridor then taking a knee — setting up as sentries. Bowie and Sam followed, hoofing it to the next doorway before mimicking Carter. Waving Flint ahead.

The voices were clearer now, with a dim glow brightening the next bend. The last branch before the hallway ended, the final two doors branching off at the back. Flint stopped near the junction, waiting for his crew to get into position, when three men rounded the corner.

No time to backtrack or slip into a room. Instead, Flint engaged, catching the first guy in the face with the butt of his rifle, while kicking the next back — giving himself a bit of room to move. A quick pull of the trigger and the tangos were down. A mist painted across the far wall.

Bowie and Carter rushed forward, dragging the two men back as Flint kicked the one still breathing. Knocking the guy out. The voices cut off, that glow winking out as something clattered to the ground in the distance.

Not exactly how Flint had hoped the first phase of their op would go, but adapting was always a bitch.

A wave to Bowie and Carter, and the three of them were up and quick-stepping down the hall, rifles notched. Senses honed. A couple guys popped out to check the corridor then dropped, the low echo of Flint’s rifle ringing through the air.

That got everyone hustling. Footsteps pounding in the other room. Flint and his buddies hit the doorway in full formation, a series of controlled bursts scattering anyone not already taking cover. Dropping another two.

Having a canister click across the floor a second later, twirling to a stop a few feet in front of them hadn’t been part of the plan. Put them on the defensive. A few rolling dives and they were crouched behind some overturned tables — doing their best to cover their ears as the grenade erupted into a fiery blast of light and sound. The sheer force of the flash bang rattling the windows.

Smoke billowed through the room, the lingering shrill ringing in the air. Flint fought through the initial roil of his stomach, trusting all those years of dynamic entries to get him back on his feet and moving. Bowie and Carter tripped in beside him, shaky but standing, when shots sounded behind them.

They spun, Carter watching their six, as they made their way back to the door, cursing when an onslaught of bullets whizzed through the air, a few hitting the wall beside them. Flint scanned the hallway. Lewis, Sam and Luke had retreated to the end of the corridor, all three of them tucked into a small doorway. What was likely a closet since they weren’t trying to bust inside. But there wasn’t enough cover to keep them all breathing for long.

Bowie took the initiative, stepping out amidst the gunfire and capping the tango closest to him. Bowie took a round to the vest, knocking him against the wall, but it got the other bastards moving — their footsteps pounding toward the stairs.

Carter charged out, laying down cover fire as Flint grabbed Bowie and pulled him back inside the room. Giving him a quick once-over. He’d be bruised and sore, but nothing lethal. Which meant, they were pressing on.

A nod and a tap, and Flint was at the threshold, falling in behind Lewis’ crew when the men ran past. They looked rattled and unsteady, but at least they were moving. They hit the landing at a decent clip, getting halfway down before the remaining tangos opened fire.

Flint palmed the railing, vaulting up and over — dropping to the floor a couple seconds later. He rolled to soften the impact, rising to his feet already firing. Several shadows moved along the far wall, a couple jerking backwards, then crumpling.

Had the group called in backup? Or had another vehicle arrived while Flint’s team had been inside? Unlikely with Quinn providing overwatch. But there were definitely more men still standing than there should have been with how many they’d eliminated.

He pressed his side into the staircase, glancing at where he and Lewis had tied up those first two tangos. Finding the area empty had that pressure building between his shoulder blades. That voice in his head screaming. He rounded the barrier, mapping out where the other men were. Cursing when Lewis reached the other side of the room with Sam before spinning — aiming at Flint’s team.

That got Flint sprinting. Zero to ballistic in two seconds flat. Bowling Bowie and Carter to the ground as the first few bullets whizzed past, one catching him in the side. The vest held but the force knocked him back — made it hard to suck in any air until his muscles relaxed. Cleared the dots scattering across his vision.

Luke landed beside them, two hits to his vest making him wheeze. He managed to roll onto his back as Carter laid down more cover fire, dragging Luke into a small alcove. The guy waved Carter off, eyes wide. Mouth pursed into a grimace. Looking more than pissed.

Bowie darted in beside Flint, changing his magazine as he eyed Lewis and Sam as they raced out the main entrance. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought Milligan had hand-picked these guys? And two are dirty?”

Flint shrugged. “They’re both apparently ex-Army, but we both know, firsthand, that being a soldier doesn’t guarantee you’re not a traitorous bastard. How’s your chest?”

“About as good as your ribs.” Bowie nodded at Luke. “If Luke’s in on it, too, he should get an Oscar.”

“I doubt he’s faking the blood on his thigh. He definitely got grazed. You ready to chase these assholes down?”

“Try and keep up, buddy.”

Bowie took off, rifle at the ready, muscles primed to react to even a hint of a threat. Flint covered his six, taking point at the door as Bowie made a dash for one of the Suburbans. Rain pelted the concrete, more fog curling across the pavement. He whistled once he was clear and Flint hoofed it over, a couple of bullets ricocheting off the vehicle as he ducked behind it.

Bowie glanced over the hood, cursing when another bullet took out the driver’s mirror. “Sam’s nesting on that slight rise at our two o’clock. Lewis is making a break for the water. What do you want to bet they have a boat anchored close by?”

“Do I look like an idiot? I don’t make bets I already know I’ll lose. You got Sam? Because I’d like to have a chat with Lewis.”

“Bastard’s all mine. I might leave him breathing, though, no promises.”

“Just don’t die on me or Moana will have my balls.”

“Like I’m gonna let some grunt get the better of me. On three.”

Bowie showed the countdown, then Flint was up and firing — buying Bowie time to sprint across the lot and dart behind some cover before Flint took off in the other direction. Circling behind the building then heading for the ocean. It was farther than it looked, with brush and rain hampering his progress.

Arriving at the beach just as three men readied a boat was a lucky break. Recognizing Lewis as the guy pulling up the rear, another.

Flint got into position then fired, dropping the second guy as the first ducked beneath the edge, hitting the throttle. Lewis lost his grip, stumbling backwards as the motor kicked over, the vessel quickly speeding off. Lewis raised his weapon but didn’t fire.

Flint took a few steps forward, Lewis’ head in his crosshairs. “Give me a reason.”

Lewis snorted, finally lowering his weapon. “How the hell did you even find the boat?”

“I’ve spent twenty years in the Navy. I know how to read a shoreline. And this is the only place you’d be able to hide a boat in this weather and not have it busted into pieces.”

Flint motioned to the sand. “Slowly.”

Lewis scrambled off the rocks then onto the sand, tossing his rifle onto the beach. “It doesn’t have to end like this, O’Connell.”

“You’re breathing. That’s as good as you’re going to get.”

“I mean for McClane. I can make a call. Save her life.”

“She’s safe.”

“Do you really think the fire station’s secure? You have no idea how entrenched this is. But, let me go, and I’ll call off phase two.”

Flint didn’t react. Lewis had been standing there when Emery had left with Jack. Surmising she’d gone to the fire station was expected. “Phase two is you in a body bag.”

Lewis shrugged. “They need leverage. Insurance, I guess. And McClane is the one person you’ll all back down for. Too bad she won’t be useful once they’re clear.”

Flint moved forward, gun still trained on the guy. “You’d better hope you’re lying because if anything happens to her, you’re dead, too.”

“I was dead the moment I didn’t make it into that boat.”

Lewis went for his sidearm, jerking backwards when Flint fired. He hit the guy twice in the vest, knocking him back just as blue lights pierced the fog and the rain, Milligan arriving on the boardwalk a few hundred meters away. Bowie jumped out of the car and ran over, covering Lewis as Flint grabbed his cell — tried called Jack.

Lewis laughed. “No service, asshole. And by the time you get some, it’ll be too late.” He stumbled to his feet as Bowie cuffed his hands behind him. “You should have taken the deal. Now, you won’t even have a body to bury.”

Flint loomed in close, his breath washing over the other man. “You’d better hope this is all just a ploy because if anything happens to her, I’ll kill you. Slowly. And there isn’t a prison secure enough to stop me. So, think very hard on how you want the next few minutes to play out, then talk.”