Sor (Voodoo Guardians #29)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DeWitt watched the fence line, hoping for an opening to break through. With the Seabees so focused on fixing the fences and runways, they wouldn’t notice one more man in uniform sliding along the border. He’d been able to get a Seabee uniform online. It wasn’t perfect, but in the darkness, no one would know.

He just needed that small window to get through and get to those hangars. Once inside, he would be able to get what he needed and find a way back out again. He had to have those chips. If he didn’t get them to his contact in Cambodia within forty-eight hours, he was a dead man.

Lightly touching the wound on his side, he was reminded of the stabbing. Once in California, he visited an old friend who’d been a corpsman. He opened the wound, sterilized it, and then sutured it together. It hurt like fuck, but at least he wouldn’t die of a stupid infection.

Of course, none of that would matter if he couldn’t get this done tonight. He hated the idea of his mother sitting in a prison cell, but he hated the idea of him being in prison more.

She’d been a good mother. The best he could have hoped for, given the circumstances. A single father who knew nothing of raising a child, suddenly alone, grieving for a young wife. Jenna stepped right in as replacement, and his father snatched her up. Of course, he didn’t love her at all. He used her.

Working long hours, sometimes traveling for weeks on end for his job in sales, he was never home, leaving the young woman to raise a boy who didn’t belong to her. She never complained. Not once. She took him to baseball, boy scouts, school plays, met with his teachers, all of it.

Now, she was sitting in jail because of him. Because she was willing to do anything and everything for her son. There was nothing to be done. If he could get these parts into the hands of the men who wanted them, then maybe they could lend a favor in return.

“Come on,” he whispered to himself, praying for that opening. The longer he sat there, the angrier he became with Sor.

Mark ‘Sorry’ Teller. Perfect teammate. Perfect son. Perfect manners. He fucking sucked. In the time that DeWitt had known him, he’d received three promotions, while DeWitt was refused two. Bastard. Thinking about the woman who had been living at Sor’s cabin, he wondered if they really were an item.

He didn’t believe the man was gay, but it wasn’t like he was out every night chasing pussy, either. From the photos he’d taken of her, she was pretty. Long, lean legs, small pert breasts, and big eyes that seemed to hold every emotion known to man.

He heard commotion near the work area and noticed the men pulling back on another strip of fencing. This might be his opportunity. He slowly walked toward the group, not wanting to cause alarm or make anyone nervous. Seeing a few Seabees to the side with shovels, he grabbed one for himself and leaned on it for a moment.

The sky was perfectly clear, with no possibility of rain. The wind, however, was another story. It was blowing hard from the Pacific, and the dust and debris were flying everywhere. Most of the men were wearing safety goggles, but of course, he didn’t have any.

With another yell to the men to move to another section of the fence, DeWitt took his chance. This would be his opportunity to get in, slide along the fence line and get to those damn hangars.

“Almost there,” he whispered to himself. “Almost there.”

“He’s inside,” whispered Matt.

“Got him,” said Sor from inside the fence. The others walked through, following in their stealth netting. Cowboy gripped the wrist of the Seabee leader, and he jumped a mile.

“Holy shit! Fuck me. Don’t scare me like that,” he laughed.

“Sorry, brother. Just keep looking straight ahead. He’s headed toward those hangars. Keep your team here unless you see one of those jets roll out. If you do, find cover.”

“If he comes out of that hangar with a jet, we’re not taking cover. All due respect, sir, we’ll be fighting beside you.”

“I thought you might say that,” smiled Cowboy. “See you soon.”

Catching up with the others, they kept eyes on DeWitt without alarming him. Fortunately, the wind was blowing against them, carrying any sound past them and not toward DeWitt.

The runways were enormous, making for miles of fencing around the space. It wasn’t a quick walk, and they could tell that DeWitt was attempting to walk casually to make sure that no one stopped him.

He had no clue that everyone on the base knew why he was there. And all eyes were watching him from the tower.

He was getting nowhere.