CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Code and Ace took a seat on the back veranda, staring at the big yacht. With any luck, the video is what caused the woman to panic, and she would be joining them on the boat.

Through comms, they could hear the team led by Miller and Trak coming onto the island at the south end. They heard commotion behind them and stood.

"Get your shit to the boat," said Richard.

"Is something wrong? Is something not working?" asked Ace.

"It's working. We have to go, and the lady of the house will be with us, but she doesn't like strangers."

"Oh. I get that," said Ace. The two men walked toward the yacht, boarding first as they were directed to the outdoor decks on the back of the boat.

"Stay here and don't move."

"Where are we gonna go?" laughed Code. "Does the dude think we're gonna swim all the way to the shore?"

Ace nodded at him, tapping the icon on his phone as they listened in on Richard speaking to Yulia.

"Come on, Yulia. I'll be with you the whole time. Jimmy and Ivan are coming with us. That's three of us to watch over you. I promise everything will be fine."

" I don't like leaving the island."

"I know. But obviously, he needs you to be there. It will be fine."

They watched as Richard held her arm as if she were a woman of eighty instead of fifty. She looked pale and, in some ways, frail. As she boarded the yacht, she only glanced their way but said nothing as he helped her below deck. When the yacht left the dock, Ace looked at Code.

As soon as the boat was away from the docks, they disrupted the signals on the island once again, ensuring the other team had access to the home in the field. With any luck, no one would notice until they were gone.

The river seemed blacker than the night sky as they pulled up to the marina. With another flip of a switch, the engines were suddenly shut down, smoke billowing from the engine room.

"Get her off!" yelled Richard to Ivan.

He carried the woman off the boat and down the dock toward the waiting car. As Ace and Code stepped onto the dock, the man handed them an envelope with ten grand inside.

"Do you need any help with the boat?" asked Ace innocently.

"No. The captain's got this. Thanks for your help on the island."

They both nodded, watching as the limousine pulled away with the neurotic woman and her three bodyguards. Ace looked at Code and tapped his comms device.

"You're clear."

"About fucking time," growled Miller.

"You're welcome, captain grouchy," smirked Code.

"Shut up. I'm too old for this shit."

Miller, Trak, Angel, Gibbie, Rory, Trevor, Whiskey, and Zulu crept onto the island donned in their dive gear. They were black from head to toe. Faces painted, hands covered, and the itch in their fingers ready to kill.

Although Yulia employed nearly forty men on the island, it seemed that they were either lazy or complacent. Or both. They were lounging around outside, enjoying a fire by the farmhouse. In the distance, you could see the mansion and others just standing out front, smoking and talking.

"Maybe when the cat's away, the mice play," said Whiskey.

"Maybe," nodded Trak. "Rory, Zulu, and Miller with me. The rest of you, get into that house and get those kids. Get them off the island. Don't worry about us."

"How will you get off?" asked Gibbie.

"There's a small fishing boat docked down on the beach at a little hotel. We'll get to that and work our way around the island."

"You're the boss," smirked Trevor.

"Just get the kids," said Trak.

Working their way inward from the perimeter, the four men took the guards down two at a time. Whether they were trained or not, they were loaded with weapons, and had they been faster, they could have easily killed the four men.

But they weren't faster. Not even close. With the silence of Trak and Zulu, the skill and power of Rory and Miller, they didn't have a chance. Not a chance in hell. When Trak killed the first man, the others realized his intent. There would be no one left to sound an alarm.

Angel, Gibbie, Trevor, and Whiskey got closer and closer to the house as the guards were easily brought down. Trevor held up the heat scanner and moved it slowly over the house. Holding up two fingers, he indicated that there were two guards inside the home.

With a quick nod, Whiskey and Angel breached the front door. Whiskey whipped the knife across the room, catching the man in the throat.

"Eddie? Is that you?" called the second man from the back room. "Brother, I got this sweet little one ready for us."

Angel practically blew smoke from his ears, Gibbie and Trevor right behind him. In the small bedroom off the hallway, a young girl of about fifteen was lying on a dirty bed. Her nightgown hiked up around her thighs.

"Fucker, you're gonna die," said Trevor, pointing his weapon at the man.

He tried to reach for his own weapon, and Gibbie put a bullet through his hand. When he tried to reach for the walkie-talkie, Angel put a bullet in his other hand.

"You're gonna fucking die!" he snapped at the three men.

"Get the girl out of here," said Trevor. "I have something to do."

Angel carried the girl out of the room while Gibbie helped get to the other children, leading kids down from the second floor. Some were crying. Some were so spaced out on drugs they couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"There are probably ten more up there, Gibbie." When Zulu, Trak, Rory, and Miller came in the back door, what they saw before them made them see red.

"Where are the men that did this?" asked Trak.

"Dead," said Trevor, wiping his hands as he came into the hallway.

"Get all the kids from upstairs. Some need to be carried," said Angel.

He looked at his old friend, Trak, and saw the anger in his eyes. It had been a while since they'd been on a mission like this, and the warrior was prepared to kill everyone.

"I know what you're thinking, brother," said Miller. "Let's get the kids to safety, and we'll take care of the guards at the mansion."

Trak hesitated for just a moment, then saw the next group of kids coming down the stairs. Two young girls seemed more alert than the others, holding the little ones' hands.

"Are you going to hurt us?" asked the girl. Trak tried his best to soften his face, but it had been in a picture of anger for so long it wasn't working. She repeated her question. "Are you going to hurt us?"

"No, little one. We will not be hurting any of you. We are going to get you to safety," he said calmly, releasing his pent-up breath.

"Let's go," said Rory. "We have some people we need to say hello to."

The eight men led the twenty-one children down the beach, hidden in the darkness. Rory had one on his back and two in his arms, the others following with one on their backs and one in their arms. Any who could walk held their hands and followed.

When they reached the small fishing boat, they looked at one another.

"It's gonna be a tight fit, Trak," said Trevor.

"You're a SEAL. Figure it out. Rory, Miller, and Zulu are going with me."

"You're not leaving me out," said Whiskey. "The others can handle the kids, and it will leave more room. Get them to the mainland and to a hospital."

"Alright," nodded Angel. "The gear is still stowed. You can gear up again and take the underwater propulsion devices across the river. Go get ‘em."

Trak took off in a jog back down the beach, Zulu, Rory, Miller, and Whiskey following. One by one, the men handed the children to a man in the boat.

"I wanna go home," said a little girl in Trevor's arms.

"I know, sweet girl. Me too. We're taking you home, I promise you. No one is ever going to touch you again."

"Promise," she asked, looking at him wide-eyed.

"Cross my heart."