Iron Willed Warrior (Last Refuge Protectors #5)

22. Cole

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Cole

We crossed the open desert and stopped when we reached the fence. It was designed to keep out animals more than people, so it didn’t take much for me to boost Brynn over the side and then climb over myself. We made our way past row after row of reflective panels. Brynn snapped photos as we went.

If anything, this place was too still and quiet. Eerily so. It made my thoughts even louder in my head.

I’d finally told Brynn about Luciana’s murder and my personal stake in this mission. The moment had called for honesty. It would’ve been a lie of omission if I’d held it back, and I didn’t want to do that with Brynn anymore.

I’d warned Luciana that she could be in trouble for continuing to speak out and demand answers. I should’ve known that her love for her daughter would never allow her to quit. I should’ve protected her. An innocent woman who committed no crime except loving her family. Instead, she’d had no one to help her, and I would never forget the shame of that.

Brynn had training and experience that Luciana never did. Beautiful and tough as steel underneath. Yet I also knew that if anything happened to Brynn, if I failed once again to stop Stillwater from harming a woman who’d needed my help, I would never be able to forgive myself.

“Listen,” Brynn said, tilting her head.

I heard it too. A mechanical whooshing sound.

We kept going as the sound got louder. It was coming from a rectangular block of concrete. One of the mysterious structures we’d seen on the satellite imagery. Brynn and I paused as we reached it. The concrete walls only reached as high as my chest, metal grating on the top, with hatches on the sides that I assumed were for maintenance. Brynn twisted the handle of a hatch and opened it.

The humming noise got louder, and I realized what this had to be. A ventilation shaft with a fan spinning inside the concrete housing, circulating air.

I pointed down at our feet, and Brynn nodded.

There was something below us. Underground.

Brynn signaled for us to continue along our previous path, heading toward Building B at the middle of the property. I dipped my chin in acknowledgment.

But as we neared the circle of light around Building B, we found we weren’t alone.

A guard stood in front of the building’s entrance in full tactical gear, an M4 carbine strapped across his front. He had a casual but alert stance. The man looked exactly like the Stillwater operatives I had faced before. Mercenaries.

And wouldn’t you know it? The door to the building opened, and Donovan Ryker strode out.

Brynn grabbed my arm and squeezed. I nodded. Now we knew for sure that Westwick and Masterson had visited here. This had to be a Stillwater facility. But why hadn’t Ryker returned with his boss to the resort?

We stayed still, watching from our crouched position in the shadows. Ryker didn’t pause, going over to a golf cart and getting in. He zoomed off toward the facility’s exit. Whatever his purpose here, it appeared he was finished.

The door to Building B slammed shut, and the lock engaged with an audible thunk. The guard remained in place.

Brynn and I communicated silently. A brief but simple decision. Stay or go?

Stay . We both agreed. Now that we were here, we had to know more.

Building B had a single lens above a high-tech panel that controlled the lock. Maybe a fingerprint scanner. I hadn’t spotted any other surveillance elsewhere in the solar farm. Cameras, like a larger security force, would be a double-edged sword. More surveillance and manpower would prevent trespassers from coming near. People like Brynn and me. But the more cameras and personnel hanging around, the more chances Westwick’s secrets could leak.

If I were Westwick, I would allow only my most trusted people here. Which meant these guards were Stillwater loyalists. Probably handpicked by Donovan Ryker himself.

Getting past that guard would not be easy. And then getting inside Building B could be straight-up impossible. Unless we could somehow use the guard’s biometrics for access. This could get messy.

Brynn nudged me. Another golf cart was zooming up the central path from the direction of Building A, the property’s entrance. But it wasn’t Ryker returning. It was another Stillwater mercenary.

Brynn and I both tensed, going for our weapons as the newcomer veered off the path and parked the golf cart within spitting distance of our hiding place. He jumped out and headed for the door, lifting his hand at the standing guard.

They fist bumped. Their laughter carried. I eased my hand away from my gun, keeping my breaths normal.

Shift change .

More evidence that cameras weren’t watching, since I doubted these guys would be so laid back if Ryker or Westwick could check up on them. But nobody expected any trouble tonight. They were probably relieved that the boss had left the premises.

The guards were chatting, so I pressed my lips to Brynn’s ear. “We can divert the guard going off shift. Question him.”

“Affirmative. But we can’t let him raise alarms after. We’re ghosts tonight.”

I held her gaze. We both knew what that would mean. And hell, I was proud of her. She wasn’t thinking like an FBI agent anymore, worrying about jurisdiction and rules.

These were Stillwater mercenaries. Enemy combatants. That called for us to be just as merciless.

Quickly, we agreed on a plan. And then, we were on the move.

With the map of the facility laid out in my head, I cut across the dark rows of solar panels.

There was a bend in the central path through the property. A brief span that would be out of sight of both Building B’s guard and Building A farther on. That’s where I waited, drawing my weapon and getting ready.

Minutes later, I heard the whirr of the golf cart’s motor.

I stepped into the path, aiming my gun. Shock rippled across the driver’s features. He braked hard, swerving to the side. Grabbed for his radio with one hand, gun with the other.

But before he could get hold of either, Brynn popped up from the back of the golf cart. As the smaller between the two of us, she’d hidden inside the cargo compartment at the back of the cart .

She pressed the muzzle of her gun to the man’s head, murmuring quietly. He snarled and went again for his weapon. Brynn smacked him in the nose. He shouted, but she muffled the sound by covering his mouth. I dashed forward, coming around the driver’s side of the cart. Plucked his radio and his weapon. Blood gushed from the guard’s nostrils.

Brynn shifted to the man’s side, keeping her weapon on him.

“You’re dead,” he said thickly. I caught a faint accent, though I couldn’t place it. “No chance are you getting out of here alive.”

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about myself,” Brynn replied. “Hands off the steering wheel. Unless you’d prefer to end it all right here.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to live either way.

Spitting blood at my feet, the guard raised his arms. Brynn wrenched them behind his back and bound them with ties from our gear, while I tied his ankles. She stuffed a dirty rag into his mouth. No clue where she’d gotten it, but maybe it had been in the golf cart’s storage compartment. Probably didn’t taste so good.

I jumped into the driver’s seat and steered us off the path, veering down a narrow gap between the solar panels. I parked the cart behind a ventilation shaft, out of sight and earshot of the buildings, but that brought us nearer to the fence line.

Brynn checked her watch. “We’ve got three minutes until the next patrol drives by.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me? We’ll let it pass. Then I’d love first crack at this guy.”

“Wilco. Be my guest.” She smirked.

We dragged the Stillwater guard out of the cart and onto the dirt beneath a solar panel. Laid him flat on his back. The guy tried to wriggle away. Brynn sat on his legs, and I held my gun beneath his chin.

He stopped moving. Stared with empty eyes. Breathed wetly through his damaged nose. I doubted that was pleasant.

Every Stillwater mercenary I’d faced had been well-trained. Unlikely to break under interrogation or torture. Especially not quickly, and we didn’t have all night. But sometimes people gave away things that they didn’t intend.

I kept the gun on him for a while. Three long minutes. Brynn counted them down.

The jeep’s engine started as a faint growl. Grew louder as its lights came into view. Brynn and I didn’t take our eyes off our prisoner. If he was going to escape or get the attention of his fellow guard, it would be now.

The jeep got closer. We weren’t right at the fence line, but if there was a loud noise or a flash of sudden movement, the driver would probably notice. Assuming he wasn’t an idiot.

With a violent burst of energy, our prisoner tried to buck Brynn off, shouting around his gag. I grabbed his damaged nose and squeezed.

The jeep drove past.

Once it was gone, I sat beside our prisoner’s head, my knees bent and the gun aimed casually near my feet. Then I tugged the rag from his mouth.

“Fuck you,” he spit out. “You’re getting nothing from me.”

“We know this is a Stillwater facility and that Garon Westwick visited earlier today with a friend of his. Eric Masterson.”

No reaction.

“I want to know what you’re guarding here. What did Westwick and Masterson come here to see? ”

“If you know about Stillwater, you know they’ll hunt you down.”

“What’s underground here?”

Dull eyes looked back at me. He wasn’t giving me much, that was for sure. But his lack of confusion or surprise confirmed that we were right. Whatever Stillwater had going on here, the main action was beneath us.

“You think a man like Westwick gives a shit about you?” I asked. “You’re disposable. But how about this.” I moved the muzzle of the gun to his forehead. “Talk to me, and I’ll let you go before the next patrol comes by. Nobody will know you said a word. You can take your paycheck and hope for the best. Even better, you can get as far away from Stillwater as possible before you wind up dead like the others my friends and I have killed. Stillwater seems to go through a lot of you guys.”

More of a reaction that time. His pupils dilated, and the muscles near his throat convulsed, like he was just holding back from giving me something. Just to see if I was actually going to let him go.

His lips started to move. I waited.

“The deepest water is the quietest,” he whispered. The Stillwater motto.

Then he lunged, upper body arching toward me. My gun cut a gash in his forehead. I barely shifted to the side in time to keep him from headbutting me. I pushed back against him with my weight as he did everything in his power to wriggle free.

Then just as suddenly, the man grunted, heaved several breaths, and went limp. The black handle of a knife stuck out from his rib cage.

Brynn had stabbed him. Precision aim, designed to kill.

“He knew you weren’t going to shoot him.” Her voice was rough. “Knew we wouldn’t risk the noise. ”

“True.” I looked at her for a moment. She was breathing hard. Hand still clenched around the knife handle. I reached over to loosen her grip. Her expression had closed off.

“You good?” I asked.

Every kill, no matter how justifiable, took something from you. It was a reality I’d come to terms with long ago. I also expected that Brynn had killed before. But there was something extremely personal about killing a man with a knife. It was more intimate than a gun. Visceral.

My heart rebelled at seeing the slickness of blood on Brynn’s gloved hands. I had meant to dispose of this guy, and it pissed me off that Brynn had to do it instead. That mark was supposed to be on my hardened soul, like so many others. Not on hers.

And that was the problem with getting involved with your partner. I wasn’t treating her like an equal right now, was I? I was thinking of her as my protectee. Someone I was meant to shield, who wasn’t supposed to risk herself to shield me .

She pushed up onto her hands and knees. “I’m fine. Help me get this mess cleaned up so we can get out of here.”