Jenna’s Protector (Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists: CHARLIE Team #4)

32. Carter

THIRTY-TWO

Carter

Mitzy’s words make my heart clench, but her calm voice continues, “Hold on a moment. I’m analyzing the area where we lost the van.”

The tension in the vehicle is palpable as we wait.

“Alright, from where the van disappeared, there are two potential routes,” she says finally. “One heads inland to a private estate. The rest of the land in the area is government-owned and empty.”

She pauses for a breath before continuing, “The other road heads toward the coast and ends at another private estate right on the water’s edge. Both are worth checking out.”

Ethan nods, taking charge. “We’ll head toward the private estate with the boat launch. Gabe, Hank, Rigel, you guys take the inland estate.”

“Copy that,” Gabe confirms. “Let’s move.”

I lean back in my seat, my hand tight around my phone. The GPS blinks, and the coordinates of the estate are seared into my mind.

This is it.

The final stretch.

Somewhere ahead, Jenna is waiting, counting on us to bring her home .

I close my eyes for a moment, sending up a silent prayer to God, to the universe, and to anyone who might be listening.

Please. Please let her be okay. Let us find her in time.

When I open my eyes, the road is a blur of motion. Ethan presses down on the accelerator, and the car surges forward.

Mitzy sends technical information to each of our cell phones, mine included. The private estate is a sprawling compound of manicured lawns and towering fences. Security cameras glint in the moonlight, motion sensors blanketing the perimeter.

“Perimeter is hot,” Blake mutters, assessing the defenses. “We’re gonna need a way in that doesn’t trip the alarms.”

“The woods?” I point to a scraggly tree line skirting the property. It’s more scruff and grass than trees, but there is some cover. “We can use the cover to approach. Or approach by water.”

“I don’t like the look of that surf.” Ethan’s gaze is cold and calculating. “Too rough, and I don’t want us getting bashed on the rocks. Mitzy?”

“Yes?”

“We need intel on that wall and its security systems.”

“Already on it. Looking for blind spots as we speak. If not, then we’ll try something different.”

Blake grabs a tablet streaming intel from Command and Control. He pulls up scans of the camera placements.

“There’s a blind spot in the northeast corner. If we time it right, we can slip through undetected.”

“No-go,” Walt chimes in. “There are motion sensors inside. We’ll trip one the moment we’re over that wall.”

Mitzy’s voice comes through the comms. “You have two Rufi units with you. Their armor is invisible to the motion sensors. Send a Rufi in to disable the sensors long enough for you to make it past the wall.”

“Alright, let’s deploy the Rufi.” Ethan gives the signal.

We stand just outside the tree line, watching as the Rufi units move into position. One Rufi approaches the ten-foot wall, placing its paws against it. It stretches up, extending to its full height on its hind legs. The second Rufi uses the first as a springboard, leaping over the wall with a fluid, mechanical grace .

Ethan turns to us as we wait for the Rufi units to complete their tasks.

“We have a few options. The main house, the guest house, the garage, and the boathouse. We need to decide where to start.” Ethan’s voice cuts through the tension, grounding us. “Since there are four of us, we can split into two teams, each taking a Rufus.”

“If we locate the van, we’ll know where to focus our search.” I rub my temples, trying to piece everything together.

“The main house is the most obvious. It’s secure and has plenty of places to hide someone.” Blake paces, his eyes scanning the perimeter.

“But it’s heavily guarded. If we go in guns blazing, we might alert them before we confirm Jenna is there.” Walt shakes his head, glancing at the main house.

“The guest house and garage are smaller targets. Easier to secure, but they might not keep her there if they’re expecting a quick getaway.” Ethan folds his arms, his brow furrowed in thought.

“The boathouse makes the most sense,” I say. “If they need to move her quickly, they’ll want access to the water. They can’t defend this house well, but if they get her on the water, it’s harder to track her.”

“I agree with Carter, but we can’t ignore the possibility that she’s in the main house.” Ethan looks to the others, looking for feedback. “We need to be smart and think this through. We’ve only got so long before they realize we’re here.”

“The sensors are down. The patrol unit is scanning the area.” Mitzy’s voice cuts through the discussion.

“Send the patrol unit to check for any evidence of the van. Focus on areas with the highest probability of activity.” Ethan nods.

We watch the feed as the Rufi move swiftly and silently across the grounds. Their sensors scan for signs of the van. The tension is palpable, each second stretching into an eternity as we wait for an update.

“The patrol unit just picked up something,” Mitzy announces. “Fresh tire tracks lead to the boathouse down by the water.”

“Guess you were right.” Ethan gives me a nod of respect. He thumps me on my shoulder. “Let’s move out. We check out the boathouse first.” Ethan makes the call.

All four of us approach the ten-foot wall, the imposing barrier looming before us. Blake examines the structure, his fingers brushing against the rough surface. Without a word, he kneels down, lacing his fingers together to create a foothold.

I step onto Blake’s hands, feeling the firm support as he boosts me. Ethan and Walt stand ready, their eyes sharp and vigilant. I reach the top and pull myself over, landing softly on the other side.

Walt follows quickly, his movements just as fluid. He swings his leg over the top, landing softly beside me. Ethan is the last; his ascent is smooth and efficient. He reaches the top, hanging there momentarily to assist Blake.

Their teamwork is seamless, a fluid dance of precise actions and silent communication. They move as one, each anticipating the other’s needs without a single word spoken. It’s clear they’ve done this countless times before. The fluidity and coordination of their actions speak volumes about their training and camaraderie.

The estate grounds are eerily quiet as we make our way toward the boathouse, our movements precise and coordinated. Hand signals pass between Ethan and his team, a silent language honed through years of training. Language I barely know, but I get enough to follow Ethan’s lead.

The boathouse looms ahead, a dark silhouette against the glimmering water. The scent of salt, brine, and seaweed fills the air, mingling with the droning of distant waves.

Following Ethan’s commands, we fan out, each taking a position around the boathouse. The water around it is calm, barely a ripple. The soft ground muffles our footsteps.

I spot fresh tire tracks, the ground disturbed and small rocks scattered. The tracks lead straight to a set of large double doors.

“Someone’s been here.” I point out the deep grooves in the gravel.

Blake kneels down, his keen eyes examining the ground around the tire marks. His fingers brush over the disturbed earth, tracing the edges of a footprint .

“Footprints, scuff marks. Multiple individuals.” He looks up, his face grim in the shadowed light. “They were in a hurry.”

My heart pounds faster, adrenaline surging through my veins. We’re close. I feel it in my bones, a prickling sense of anticipation mixed with dread.

Ethan signals us to move in, his hand cutting through the air like a blade. We approach the boathouse cautiously, our weapons drawn and ready. The weight of my weapon is familiar in my hands, a cold comfort in the face of the unknown.

But as we draw near, Ethan raises a fist, signaling us to stop. Another quick succession of gestures explains the rest.

We’re getting wet.

We move to the edge of the water, the cool breeze hitting our faces like a slap. The water is dark and murky but calm.

I take a deep breath before slipping into the water. The cold shocks my system like a thousand icy needles pricking my skin, but I push through, focusing on the mission.

On Jenna.

Blake and Walt follow, their movements smooth and controlled. They cut through the water like shadows, leaving barely a ripple in their wake.

We swim silently, the water muffling our movements as we approach the rear of the boathouse. The structure looms above us. Large doors hang above the waterline.

Ethan gestures for us to line up, preparing to enter simultaneously. We position ourselves beneath the doors, treading water as we wait for the signal.

With a sharp nod, Ethan gives the go-ahead. As one, we slip beneath the doors and into the boathouse. The water is inky black, the only light coming from the faint moonlight filtering through the cracks in the walls. From the night vision in my HUD, I see it all in shades of gray and green.

The boathouse is silent and empty.

Ethan signals the all-clear, and we move forward, pulling ourselves out of the water and onto the wooden planks. Our clothes cling to our bodies, the fabric heavy, cold, and wet, but the discomfort is a distant thought.

My mind is focused solely on the task at hand.

We move cautiously, our footsteps light and measured. We keep our lights off, not wanting to alert anyone who might still be in the area. The darkness is thick, broken only by the faint gleam of moonlight through the dusty windows.

The walls are lined with shelves, hooks, boating equipment, and coiled ropes scattered haphazardly. The air is thick with the scent of gasoline and salt water, a heady mix that makes my head spin.

We fan out, each of us taking a section of the boathouse to investigate. I move toward the dock, my eyes scanning the water for any sign of the boat that was launched.

Blake moves to the edge of the slip, his keen eyes taking in the details. He points to the fresh scrapes on the dock, the wood pale and raw.

“They launched a boat,” he says, his voice low and grim. “Recently, by the looks of it.”

My heart sinks, a cold dread settling in my gut. We’re too late. They’ve taken her by water, putting even more distance between us.

“Mitzy,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “Please tell me you have eyes on that boat.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment that stretches into eternity. Then, Mitzy’s voice crackles over the comms.

“ Drones are in the air. I’ve got a visual. It’s heading toward a large yacht, moving fast. And…” She pauses and static hisses in my ear. “Carter, I’ve got a positive ID on Jenna.”

Relief crashes over me, so strong it nearly brings me to my knees.

She’s alive.

She’s there.

We found her.

But the relief is short-lived, chased by a renewed sense of urgency. She’s not safe yet. Not until she’s back in my arms.

“We need a plan.” Ethan’s voice cuts through the static in my head, calm and focused. “A water rescue, extraction by air or sea. We need to coordinate with the Coast Guard and local marine units. Mitzy, I need ideas.”

“Already working on it. Go ahead and retreat. Sending coordinates. Hank, Gabe, and Rigel will meet you there.”

“Copy that.” Ethan commands us to move out with a swirl of his finger overhead. We exit the way we came in, silently and through the water, then hump it back to the vehicle.

I send up a silent prayer. Hold on, Jenna. Just a little longer. I’m coming for you. I’ll always come for you .