Chapter 6

I recognizedthe unmistakable grunt of pain and the thud of a body hitting the ground—sounds that were all too familiar. I spun around to see the guy who had been part of the rescue team crumpling to the dirt. “Shit,” I hissed under my breath, scanning for immediate threats.

My instincts screamed for me to keep moving, to find Annie and shield her with my life. But as I looked down at the fallen man, I couldn’t just leave him there. Not when he’d come to rescue Annie, and then me. I saw the telltale bulge of a vest under his clothes, a stroke of luck amidst the chaos, but he’d fallen badly, his face a mask of blood from a nasty gash, and he was out cold.

I crouched beside him, dragging him by the shoulders to a denser patch of underbrush. “Come on, buddy,” I muttered, trying to wake him. His pulse was there, strong under my fingers, a relief amidst the pounding of my own heart. I checked his gun, a standard-issue SIG Sauer, and patted him down for spare ammo. I was armed, but in this place, you could never have too much firepower.

He was heavy, and every second I spent here was a second when Diaz and his men could be closing in on Annie. But I couldn’t leave him. Not now. I felt for other injuries, making sure he wasn’t bleeding out. But as I worked, another part of my brain was ticking over the real problem: how to get us both out of this mess.

With a grunt, I heaved him up into a fireman’s carry. “You better thank me for this later,” I grumbled, the strain in my muscles a testament to the urgency and desperation of the situation.

I gave him a light shake, trying to rouse him, to get some help or at least a response. But he was a dead weight in my arms, a liability.

That was when I heard the crunch of boots on gravel, the slight rustling of armed men walking in formation. My head snapped up, eyes darting to the source of the sound. Diaz was ahead, and he and his crew were staring right at me. The son of a bitch was grinning, flanked by five assholes, weapons ready. I stumble-dragged myself and the unconscious man down behind the thickest tree I could find, pressing my back against the trunk, gripping my gun with a familiar resolve. I had no illusions about what was coming next. It was a standoff, and I was outnumbered and outgunned.

But I had something worth fighting for, something they couldn’t understand. I had a reason to survive this, to protect the stranger who had risked everything for Annie and to give whoever had taken her time to get away.

The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and pine. I steadied myself, readying for the fight to come. For Annie getting away to a new life, for the guy at my feet, for all the things worth protecting in this godforsaken place.

Diaz stood there, his face twisted into a sarcastic sneer, the kind that made my blood boil. He clicked his tongue in a mocking tut. “Come on, man, get out here,” he said, his voice dripping with glee.

I tightened my grip on my gun, hidden behind the tree, weighing my options. My mind raced, trying to find a way out of this mess, a way to keep both myself and the unconscious rescuer safe.

“Come on, Mitchell, or whatever your real name is, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Diaz continued, his tone almost conversational, as if we were discussing the weather instead of a life-or-death situation.

I knew arguing was useless. Diaz wouldn’t care about any excuses or explanations. He was someone who saw the world in black and white, and in his eyes, I’d crossed a line and betrayed the crews.

As I knelt beside the unconscious man, my mind was racing, piecing together a plan.

Diaz and his goons were expecting me to cave, to give up and come back with them. That was my in. I needed to play into their expectations, to make them think they had the upper hand until the very last second.

Hold them up. Delay.

I glanced at the guy’s gun and spare ammo. I could use that. If I could create a distraction, maybe a small commotion or noise in the distance, it could give me enough time to use both guns and fight our way out. It was risky, sure, but sitting ducks we were not.

Then, there was the terrain. I knew this area better than they thought. A few yards to the west, the ground dipped into a shallow gully, filled with thick underbrush—perfect for cover. If I could drag the guy there, under the cover of the distraction, we could disappear before Diaz’s men realized what was happening.

But what about the distraction? I had to get creative. I remembered the small mirror in my pocket, part of my standard kit. If I could angle it right, catch the first rays of the rising sun, it might flash bright enough to catch their attention. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

I positioned the mirror, aiming the reflected light towards a spot far from us. Then, I waited for the right moment, the sun peeking above the horizon. I flicked the mirror, sending a brief, bright flash into the distance.

As expected, Diaz’s men turned towards the light, their attention diverted. That was my moment. I grabbed the unconscious man’s gun and ammo, hoisted him up, and started dragging him further toward the gully.

My heart pounded as we stumbled into the underbrush, the sounds of Diaz’s men shouting and scrambling echoing behind us. But we were already disappearing into the green, the foliage swallowing us whole.

It was a desperate plan, but it was working. I could get the man undercover at least, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Only, it wasn’t enough—the stranger slowed me down, I wasn’t fast enough, and all too fast I was surrounded. I let my burden down with as much care as I had time for, nudging his gun under his chest, then straightened.

“Diaz.”

“The fuck?” Diaz asked a hundred questions in one.

I took a slow, calculated step forward, my eyes locked on Diaz who stared at me.

“Toss your gun,” he ordered.

I threw my Sig to the ground at Diaz’s feet. Part of me wanted him to flinch—I could take down the five men and him if I had a distraction. How many bullets were in the stranger’s Glock 19? I hadn’t heard shooting, so I guessed at the minimum fifteen. Still, I would have an even better advantage if Mr. Unconscious was awake. Which was when I saw a subtle movement, the hand hidden from everyone else twitched, two fingers held up. He could take two from his angle. That left four for me.

Easy.

“Knives as well,” Diaz added, and I unbuckled the knife at my side, and the one at my ankle. This idiot would never be able to comprehend that I didn’t need a weapon to take any of them out. “Move out. And don’t even think about trying anything funny.”

I snorted a laugh. “Gangster,” I chuckled.

He stiffened and took a step closer. “Fuck you, Mitchell.”

I tipped my chin. “Fuck you first.” My mind was already racing through a dozen different plans. Then, I rolled my eyes, as if I didn’t care about Diaz at all, and he bristled as I gestured at the guy on the ground. He hesitated, which was a good sign.

One of his crew pointed at him. “You shouldn’t leave him alive, boss. Right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he gestured to a guard, “weapons on Mitchell, I’ll do it.”

Something like excitement lit up Diaz’s eyes, and he took one of my knives and turned it in his hand, taking that fatal move toward the stranger, and bending.

Instinct took over. I twisted under Diaz’s arm, using his momentum against him, and grabbed his wrist, forcing the knife towards his throat. There was a brief moment of resistance, a struggle for power before the knife found its mark, piercing his throat and sideways to sever the artery. Diaz gagged, his eyes wide with shock, and then, he crumpled to the ground, blood spurting over me.

I didn’t have time to pause. Three of Diaz’s foot soldiers were already on me, their guns waving, and way too close as I met them head-on. The first came at me with a wild swing. I ducked, feeling the air whoosh above my head, and drove my fist into his midsection. He doubled over, and I finished him with an elbow to the back of his head.

The second was more cautious, circling me, searching for an opening. I didn’t give him one. I feinted left, then struck right, catching him off guard. A quick jab to the throat left him gasping for air, and a solid punch to the temple sent him sprawling.

I grabbed his gun, put a bullet in his head, rolled to shoot the one already down, and the third came at me from behind, but I sensed him before I saw him. I spun, grabbing his arm, and used his forward motion to throw him over my shoulder. He hit the ground hard and didn’t get up after a bullet through his temple.

Panting, I turned to face the others, ready for more. But there was no need. They lay on the ground, motionless, and the stranger was already on his feet, wiping a knife on the grass. He stared up at me, a grim set to his jaw, and nodded.

I nodded, acknowledging the help. I didn’t know who he was, but he’d helped get Annie away, and he was an ally, and that was enough. Then, for good measure, I shot each of the crew he’d rendered unconscious. If he thought that was overkill, he didn’t say.

Together, we scanned the area, alert for any more threats. But it was over. Diaz and his men were down.

I glanced at the stranger. “Shit,” I muttered. My cover was blown. Was Annie safe? “Annie?” I asked again.

He pressed a hand to his ear, then nodded. “Exfil left, package on board. Next exfil, ten out,” he confirmed and extended a hand, which I took. His grip was firm, and when he released the hold, he nodded. “Ryder. Ranger.”

“August. SEAL.”

We stared at each other, like knowing like, as he wiped blood from around his eye. A cut that ran from his temple to past his nose had to hurt like a bitch, but it didn’t seem to faze him as he rolled his neck and stretched out his arms. “And now?” he asked after a moment.

Commonsense dictated we went the way we were heading—exfil was only ten out, and I knew the woods, but I wasn’t thinking about getting away. Annie was safe.

She didn’t need me.

And I needed to take this nest down.

Headcount this morning was sixteen, that included Amos and Clara, Annie’s companion, nanny, whatever. Of course, I didn’t know who was in the top rooms, he or she could have their own private army for all I knew, but I was observant, and I’d seen no sign of forces beyond my capability. Six dead here, at least five when they first tried to take me down, that didn’t mean many were left here.

“She’ll be safe? She doesn’t have any family to take her. James’s parents wanted nothing to do with him, or her. So, you’ll find someone?” I asked, maybe a little desperately.

He tensed at my words, but he knew I was staying right here—understood I needed to make things right.

“You’re going back.” It wasn’t a question.

Of course I was going back. If I could take this cartel down, find the top dog, finish it, then James’s death would mean something. It was the ultimate revenge.

The absolute ending of what I’d seen and done.

“I’m going back.”

“Fuck—”

I waited. This wasn’t on him, and he was thoughtful, his dark gaze assessing me as he smoothed away more blood trickling down from his temple. He was a good-looking hunk of military bad ass, blood, muscles, dead focused, and throwing a feral smile at me. He checked the bullets in the chamber of his gun and gave his face one final wipe.

“You lead,” he said, giving up control to me given I knew the terrain and had knowledge of at least some of the people inside. “I’m coming with you.”