Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Rio Blanco, Puerto Jardin

Present Day

THE JAIL CELL WAS six by eight. Finn had paced it enough times to have the dimensions memorized. There were three holding cells on the lower level of Rio Blanco International Airport, but he was the lone prisoner. He dropped onto the wooden bench, the only piece of furniture in his cell, and leaned against the brick wall behind him.

There were no windows. He'd tested each bar of his cell, as well as the cell door, with no luck, and without a jailor in here with him, there was no one to bribe. Not that it was likely to work, not with the presidential brigade in charge.

His arrest had to be related to the mess Zo was in—it was too big a coincidence otherwise. Finn tried to ignore the twisting in his gut, but it didn't matter how smart and resourceful she was, with the government involved, the deck was stacked against her. He couldn't even be sure any longer that she had made it to San Isidro .

He needed to escape.

They wouldn't keep him here long, and once they put him in a more secure prison, getting loose would be nearly impossible, not without weeks or even months of planning. That left him with one opportunity to get free—when they transferred him.

Finn tried to work out a strategy. There wasn't much he could plan, though, not when he didn't know how many men would be guarding him, where they'd be positioned, or a hundred other variables.

Zo slipped into his head. The last time he'd kissed her had been at LAX.

He'd held on to her longer than usual because he hadn't wanted to let her go. Because, damn it, he hadn't wanted her to fly to Puerto Jardin without him. She'd clung to him, too, but Finn doubted it had been for the same reason. Zo was fiercely independent. He fucking loved her strength—it was one of the reasons she'd put him down for the count—but there were times it made him insane.

Didn't matter. He could live with the crazy as long as he had her.

A sound had him on his feet. The door to the cellblock opened, and three men entered. One appeared to be a Rio Blanco police officer, and the other two were members of the presidential brigade. A fourth man moved into the doorway, his weapon trained on him. Shit. He recognized this dude—he'd been part of the team that had taken Torres down two years ago—Finn was sure the man remembered him. He only hoped it was as a gunrunner.

"Stand away from the door," the cop ordered in Spanish.

Finn moved back several steps, keeping his hands in plain sight. It wouldn't take much to incite the brigade to kill him, and he didn't plan to give them an easy excuse.

"Face the wall."

Again, he followed orders but turned his head to watch what he could. The cell door opened, but Finn didn't move. He had a quick look at the handcuffs before they had his wrists secured behind his back. The cop grabbed his arm, jerked him forward, and Finn's gaze skipped to the brigade member at the door, trying to read him. Had he been far enough on the inside of the Torres mission to know Finn was Special Forces or not?

When they exited the cell, the cop addressed the two brigade members waiting there. "The prisoner is yours."

The younger of the two brigade members grabbed his arm. He was marched from the holding area, through the lower level, and out of the building. As they paused, Finn looked around, but they were in a secured area of the airport, and trying to escape here would be a waste of time.

Bright lights illuminated the military transport truck that stood in front of them. It looked vintage—like forty years old vintage—with a large tear in the canvas cargo cover near the cab on the right-hand side, and the tires were covered in dried mud. They were using something this large to move him to another prison? Not that he was complaining. The truck gave him more room to maneuver.

The older soldier barked his displeasure, and the driver jumped out, moving to the rear to help the man lower the gate. He'd have four guards, all members of the presidential brigade.

Could be worse.

"Get in," the older man ordered.

Finn glanced between the truck and the sergeant. "My hands are secured behind me. How do you expect me to climb up?"

After a brief discussion, two of the men got in the back, and when Finn stepped up on the foothold, they grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him inside. There were two benches, one along each side of the truck, and the soldier Finn had recognized gestured to the seat on the right side. He and the younger soldier settled on the opposite side. The truck was closed up, and Finn heard the two cab doors slam. A moment later, the engine sputtered to life, and they slowly began to move.

He shifted his arms to get his hands in a better position to break free when his chance arose.

"What are you doing?" the younger man demanded in Spanish.

Keeping his voice easy and calm, Finn said, "Just trying to get comfortable."

"Be still," he ordered.

"Fine," he agreed. Finn already had himself set up exactly how he wanted. All he needed now was the opportunity.

As the truck continued to rock along at a slow pace, Finn waited for the two men across from him to get bored. An instant of inattention, that was all he needed. He'd break the cuffs, take a pistol from one of the men, and leap out the back. It was doable. Not optimal, but he'd be able to execute.

Only neither of the soldiers appeared ready to relax. Not even after about half an hour of driving.

"Which prison are we going to?" Finn asked casually.

Silence.

Given the time on the road, Finn narrowed the options down to three, including a military prison to the north.

A while later, the rhythm of the road changed. They'd left the Rio Blanco metro area and were in the countryside now. Shit, that had to mean El Manzano , literally the worst prison in Puerto Jardin. It was the most secure, the hardest from which to escape.

In his mind, Finn pictured a map showing both the airport and El Manzano. He did some fast estimating and decided that at their current speed, he had approximately forty-five minutes until they reached the military penitentiary, but he'd have to get loose well before that. Maybe within another half hour to be safe. His guards remained alert with their gazes focused on him.

Finn took a breath. He'd be patient, but if they didn't relax in the next twenty-five minutes, he'd have to act anyway.

He'd been out of Special Forces for a couple of years, and while he'd tried to keep his skills honed, Finn knew he'd lost the sharp edge. He hadn't needed it. His job was to protect Zo and whatever artifact they were retrieving, and while that could be risky, it wasn't pretending to be a gunrunner dangerous. He took another breath.

Escape was doable. It had to be doable because he wasn't dying today. He wasn't leaving Zo on her own.

He visualized the sequence he'd need to enact and estimated how long each action would take. Then he replayed a different scenario. Finn did this again and again until he came up with the plan most likely to succeed. Once he had that, he mentally rehearsed it until he was confident he could execute it flawlessly.

Neither guard so much as glanced away the entire time.

About ten minutes before Finn was set to take action, the truck slowed. Had he miscalculated the time?

But the younger soldier's reaction told Finn something was up. He got ready, waiting for the men to stop watching him, but while the kid was distracted, the man who'd worked with his team on the Torres takedown remained alert. Watchful.

The truck stopped.

"Go see what is happening," the man Finn recognized ordered.

"Sí." The kid holstered his weapon, opened the canvas covering the rear, and climbed over the gate, dropping to the ground below.

"Turn away from me," the remaining soldier ordered. " Prisa! "

Fuck, fuck, fuck , but Finn followed orders.

To his surprise, one handcuff was released and then the other. There was shouting from the front of the truck, but the soldier didn't flinch. "Knock me out and take my pistol, the handcuffs, and keys with you when you run, Sergeant Rowland."

"Gracias," Finn said.

After following orders, he vaulted over the tailgate of the truck, landing lightly on his feet, and headed for the forest. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder. There was a large tree down, blocking the road, and it appeared as if there were three bodies lying alongside the truck. What the—

"You realize if we were bogeys, you'd be back on that truck," Ski said as he materialized beside him.

"That's what happens when you go soft," Griff said, appearing on his other side. Winter was with him, looking amused.

"I didn't go soft," Finn growled, voice low. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass." Ski shoved him toward the right. "Move it, Stony."

Finn moved. It wouldn't take long before someone came upon the scene and summoned help. He wanted to be long gone before that happened.

They had a Jeep hidden down the road, and Finn jumped in the back. Winter drove, and Griff rode shotgun because Griff always rode shotgun, which left Ski in the back with him. Finn had known the team was inserting in Puerto Jardin, but they must have gone wheels up shortly after he'd left Tampa.

After they put enough distance between them and the truck, Finn asked, "How'd you know I was in trouble?"

Griff shifted in his seat, turning to meet Finn's gaze. "Because half the damn presidential brigade was bragging about arresting the notorious gunrunner, Tom Finley."

"Who was using a fake passport with another man's name," Ski added, tone dry .

Finn considered that and then shook his head. "There's no fucking way they arrested me because of my passport or arms dealing. Something else is going on."

"Probably," Ski agreed.

"Does the captain know you're pulling side quests?"

"Is it a side quest if you're ordered to go on a rescue?" Kyle Winter asked.

"The captain ordered you to do this?" Un-fucking-believable.

"Yep." Winter's tone suggested he was grinning.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the brigade sergeant Finn recognized had been enlisted to help his three friends with the escape. "Why'd the captain want me rescued?"

Ski's incredulous look was easily readable even in the dark. "Three guesses, dude."

"He wants me to work with you on this mission." The captain had made the offer when Finn was in Tampa, but he'd turned it down.

Instead of confirming his guess, Griff said, "The captain wants to talk to you when we rejoin the team."

"Shit," Finn muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "I don't have time for this."

"You're going to have to make the time. Captain Nguyen wants to know what the fuck you're doing in Puerto Jardin when you're supposed to be in Los Angeles."

Damn, it had to look dubious as hell that as soon as he'd gotten off his flight in LAX, he'd turned around and immediately boarded the plane to Puerto Jardin. None of his friends asked about it, but they had to be wondering themselves.

Quietly, Finn said, "Zo left for Rio Blanco the same day I flew into Tampa. She never got back out. The only reason I'm here is that she's in trouble."

The atmosphere changed immediately. "What can we do to help?" Ski asked.