Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

REMINGTON

T hree days after reuniting with Locke and Patch, we found a rest area along a desert highway to park and settle in. It was late, the weather outside had shifted from cold to considerably warmer. Though the temperatures would plummet when the sun went down. McQuade and Locke had alternated turns with the driving.

Once parked, Patch took over any local cameras, looped their feeds, then did a full scan. We were the only trailer parked here and a pair of cars that had been there when we arrived, left shortly thereafter. With the all clear, we opened the ramp and I drove the SUV down. We'd parked the vehicle aboard as soon as we caught up

Locke slid into the passenger seat as McQuade closed up behind us. I didn't wait for Locke to buckle his seatbelt before I hit the accelerator.

Our first identified target was a little over an hour away, where the desert met the mountains. My comm hummed to life.

"Comm check," Patch said, her voice soothing in my ear. The past three days had seen her come back to life. She'd been healing before, but she thrived now. The work, the hunt, the search—it was all doing her a world of good.

"Copy," I said easily.

"We're all clear here," Locke added. "Try to get some rest while we get into place?"

"I will after I finish my follow-up searches." The hint of impudence in her tone reminded me that she was retaking control of her daily choices. We could coax, but she didn't follow orders. Something, I suspected, the others enjoyed as much as I did.

"Let us know if there are any changes," I said before Locke could scold her. She had to put up with McQuade while we were gone. He would be far more likely to pick her up and dump her into her bed. To keep her there, he would pull the power supplies to her equipment and refuse to give them back until she slept.

"Will do. Be safe." Laughter edged the biting note beneath her words. I'd bailed Locke out and she let me do it. A soft click indicated the line was still there, but it would remain quiet unless we or she activated it.

"She isn't sleeping enough," Locke muttered.

"She won't while she has so much on her mind." Or while nightmares continued to plague her. Not that she'd said anything about that being why she preferred to be up, almost round the clock, on her computers. "You know as well as I do that she will not let go of this until she's solved the whole puzzle."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

No. It didn't. I couldn't say I much cared for it either. However… "This is her life," I reminded him. "Her battle. She has been in this particular fight far longer than either of us. She needs to do this and we need to let her."

"Just like that?" Locke shot me a look of intense dislike. Whether it was for my statements or me didn't really matter right now. It all came from the same place—the desire to protect her.

"No," I said, keeping my tone even.

One thing my training had taught me was to reserve my anger and passion for when they were necessary. At the moment, it wasn't necessary. His frustration wasn't even with her much less me. It was the whole situation.

"Not just like that. You have to know she will do what she needs to do. We can fight her, which will only make it more difficult for her to achieve her goals, or we can support her by eliminating the threats she uncovers."

Locke said nothing for the next few miles. If I read him right, he was chewing my statements up and trying to find a counter for them. His lengthy sigh was an answer all of its own.

"I kind of hate you right now," he said without an ounce of real heat.

"Go right ahead." I shrugged. "We have another forty-some odd minutes for you to deal with your feelings, then you need to pack them away for work."

"Thanks," he scraped the word out in a dry tone. "I appreciate it."

I hadn't missed the sarcasm underlining the words. Still, I grinned, and said, "You're welcome."

His snort was the only response.

An hour later, I eyed our target. It was an obscenely large wood cabin style mansion. They might label it a house, but it sprawled over the side of the mountain and fit against the trees as if it had been grown there. That took considerable effort and funds.

In addition to the home itself, there were a pair of generators hidden from view on the far side, as well as a garage to house the vehicles. The home was likely as self-sustaining as they could make it. A good bolthole.

Not good enough.

Flat against the earth, I studied the visible egresses. Two main doors on the first floor. The plans Patch had dug up said there were two more in the back.

One was into the garage itself, the other onto a deck where you could slip off to the side. Being tucked to the mountain made all elevations accessible to the ground depending on where you were.

Locke had begun his path around the house to the rear. Even out here, most people kept lighter security on their back doors than their front. It was like they assumed even intruders would prefer to come in the front doors.

A soft beep in my ear told me Locke was in place. I tapped my comm twice.

"Talk to me." Her voice wrapped around me with the softness of a lover and the confidence of a partner. A grin tugged at my mouth before I could suppress it.

Professionalism meant no distractions. Still, I savored the experience. I hadn't realized quite how much I missed these intimate little moments, even if I shared it with Locke and most likely McQuade.

"We're in position," I informed her. "I have eyes on the home. Are you ready to receive?"

The car was parked two miles to our south, but there was a booster there to take the signal I sent. The satellite signal wasn't perfect, but it would do.

"Give me eyes." The crisp order resonated and I switched on the specialized scope attached to mine.

"Transmitting," I murmured as I began a slow scan of the building moving from east to west across the face of it.

"Hold," she said and I locked on to what I imagined was the living room area. "I count three in residence on the main floor. Two heavily armed. The third is seated, no visible sign of weapons."

I gave her a minute, I couldn't see what she was seeing. She had to be our eyes.

"Two are definitely there as guards. To protect or restrain the target? No idea. They are positioned at seven and one from the main door. Copy?"

"Copy," I said, committing the details to memory.

"Continue scan."

We repeated the pause each time she located another person. Thankfully, there were only four others present in the house. Two were likely servants of some kind. The other pair might be bodyguards on a break since they were horizontal and on the second floor.

"Can we get eyes inside?" Her question held just a hint of teasing.

"Is that meant as a challenge or an insult?" Locke retorted.

"Yes to the former, not so much to the latter. But we've all been taking a bit of a break…"

His snort in response carried an eloquence of its own. "I'm ready to move. I have three ingress points on the second level. They didn't wire the bathroom window for security." Disapproval underscored the amusement in Locke's assessment.

Careless.

The pause between the information and her response elongated.

I didn't hurry her, nor did Locke. There was something almost elemental in the comfort I took from her studying our options. She'd map out the various paths, identify the pitfalls, and estimate the varying chances of success based on each choice.

The woman was exceptionally gifted. It was also why I trusted her calls. She never moved on one without some certainty and if she had a less than optimal outcome, she didn't let that stop her or us—she just informed us of the hazards.

"Locke, you are cleared for first ingress. Your task is to identify and paint the targets on the second level only . Once we clear those, you may proceed to the first floor. Understood?"

"Understood. Going radio silent. Thirty seconds."

"Copy," I exhaled along with her acknowledgement and moved my site to the second floor.

Mentally counting it down, I was ready for my first target. The scope lit up with the laser tag.

"First target acquired," I said softly.

A moment later, a laser lit up a second target.

"Second target acquired. Clear the field."

Five seconds later, Locke said, "Clear."

"Clear to fire," Patch said a beat later. It took no time to take out the first and second targets. Two bullets each. The distance suppressed the sound of the gun more effectively than the suppressor. The noise cancellation in my ear comms protected my hearing.

"Targets down," I reported.

"Confirmation?" Patch wasn't distrusting me, she was making sure nothing popped up to surprise Locke in the house. I could cover him, but we wanted one of these guys alive. So better to minimize the collateral—for now .

"Confirmed," Locke answered a few seconds later. "Remind me not to piss Remy off."

"You've survived it once," I informed him. "You'll be fine."

"Focus," Patch said, though a chuckle threaded the word. I'd made her smile.

"At the stairs, going silent to get to the first floor." Locke didn't wait for our acknowledgement, he just went quiet. I moved my attention to the main floor where the other three targets were located.

The drapes were open, but a sheer covered the glass. I wouldn't be taking the shot through the glass. While no glass was truly bullet proof, there were varieties of bullet resistant.

Those made it challenging, but not impossible. You had to plan for the time to take down the resistant glass with multiple shots. However, in the time it took to take down the glass, your targets had time to escape and shift position.

I had a.50 cal with me. As useful as the heavier firepower was, it added some limitations to accuracy. Since we needed one of these assholes alive, I'd prefer to keep that margin of error smaller.

Two beeps.

Locke was in position.

Another two beeps.

Locke was ready to move.

He waited for me, however, and I did a slow sweep with the specialized scope.

"Target one acquired," Patch told me and I marked it mentally before proceeding. "Target Three, no joy here."

The target we wanted to take with us. I moved to the next corner.

"Target two acquired."

I returned to target one. "Confirmed," she said in a tone that made me want to kiss her. At my sweep past target three to target two, she added a second, "Confirmed."

It would take me a full second and a half to move from target one to target two.

"Be ready to take down target two if he moves," I told Locke. "Clear the row."

Two beeps. An acknowledgement.

"Ignition in five," Patch began the countdown. "Four, three…"

Everything faded as I prepped for Target One.

On one, the glass exploded outward. The two charges Locke had put into place decimated the glass, cracking it at all anchor points, letting its weight and gravity do the rest.

I fired, eliminating the first target before he even finished coming into view. The second target was moving for the third, but Locke appeared in the visual.

"Hold," Patch said unnecessarily, because my finger was already off the trigger. The second guy went down with three sharp slices and a series of swift stabs. For a guy who didn't like the fight, he was damn useful in it.

I was back on target three, he had a gun in his hand.

He didn't need the hand to answer questions.

I fired, the bullet would shatter his wrist if he was lucky, but probably sever the whole damn thing if he wasn't.

"Target three down," Locke said, kicking the weapon away. "Fuck, that's messy."

"He'll live," I told him. We didn't need him to live that long, so the target's comfort was completely secondary. Besides, if he'd gotten the shot off, Patch would have been upset. I refused to give her more reasons to cry. "Secure him. I'm on my way."