Chapter Eight
Tammany Bay, Tortola
Brad adjusted his position. Like John, he was lashed to a tree about a dozen yards off the warm sands in the thick of the palm trees. Unless someone looked directly up from the base of the tree, no one would spot them. Below, Copper strolled from her chair to the edge of the water. Unlike the commercial beaches on the other side of the island, this one was harder to get to. The rutted road to reach the campground twenty meters away was difficult to traverse and lacked the amenities of the five-star, beachfront hotels.
It had been perfect to escape with Sachi, and they had enjoyed five fantastic days—splitting their time in the water snorkeling, on the beach talking, and in the tent wrapped around each other. Running his tongue over his teeth, he shifted the scope to check the other sniper positions he and John scouted the night before. They’d chosen their tree because it gave them the best line of sight on the two best positions.
Gabriel sat in a chair rented from one of the local restaurants, a newspaper open and his attention seemingly on it. Though he was armed, he was a good three meters from Copper’s position. Too fucking far when all that stood between her and a bullet was a scrap of fabric making up her bikini bottom. Stretching her arms, she showed off the line of her back. The streaks of red in her coppery hair glinted under the sun.
Hating every part of the settling in to wait and see, Brad murmured, “All clear on the eastern portion of the bay.”
“All clear west.” Though they were close enough to talk without the mics, John hadn’t said a word to him since Gabriel outlined the plan in Montana. Though he’d objected, Copper called Chrome and alerted the commander to their plan. He hadn’t seen strategic value in the op, but he also hadn’t discounted Gabriel’s gut. Brad got the feeling okaying their op had more to do with sticking it to Titanium than the other man admitted, but it gave them the go ahead.
A go-ahead Titanium sent him an order to disregard, so Brad left his phone in Montana. Like John and Sachi, he had a tracer tagged under his skin. Titanium damn well knew where he was. Scanning the tree line, he checked for tell-tale signs of the rest of his team. Tin and Nickel were the most likely candidates, if they weren’t assigned elsewhere. Like Copper, Nickel got noticed in all the right ways and half the job of disarming the enemy was giving them something else to see.
“You know,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low since Merc could hear him, “You and I used to be friends.”
Merc grunted.
John was too important to Sachi for Brad to ignore his anger. He was also too dangerous to worry about if he really wanted Brad out of Sachi’s life. With only handful of visitors on the beach, those present enjoyed a relative amount of privacy. Gabriel seemed certain whomever they were looking for was a woman. The only other women on the beach were islanders—and one was the owner of the closest restaurant and close to sixty-five years old. Not likely candidates.
He tried again. “For what it’s worth, man, I’m sorry you didn’t know we were alive.”
“Watch her back and save your ass kissing for later.” John’s gravelly response didn’t offer friendship or forgiveness.
“Trust me, I’m not letting her out of my sight.” He checked her position in the water, she’d dove into the warmth of the ocean and swam out a couple of meters then rolled onto her back. The droplets sliding across her chest glittered under the sunlight. Why the hell couldn’t he have brought Gabriel and Sachi here to spend more time together rather than baiting a trap? He had memories here, good memories—he didn’t need some psychotic bitch with an agenda messing with those.
They’d make memories on another trip… A weird feeling coasted along his spine. A chill of apprehension tangled indelibly twined with another emotion, one that tasted suspiciously like hope. The three of them would make more memories, Brad promised silently. Three. Weird and yet right. Focus. Movement in the water near Sachi had him squinting.
“Gabriel, we’ve got something approaching Sachi at her seven o’clock.”
“I see him.”
After a fast check of the other sniper positions told him they were clear, Brad targeted the man rising out of the water. Tall, blond, tan and fit—but not built. He waded closer to her and his mouth moved, but without ears on Sachi, he couldn’t hear what he said.
She rolled over in the water and faced the man, yet she stayed out of his line of sight. Good girl. The guy blanched and then gave her a nervous smile before wading away.
Merc chuckled. “Pussy.”
His grin arrested when Sachi spun in the water, and her expression changed. Retargeting, he found Gabriel surrounded by three men. “Who the fuck are they?”
“Sidearms.” Merc stated. “They aren’t alone.”
Sachi abandoned her wading and strode for the shore. On his feet, Gabriel had said nothing and his com wasn’t open. Fuck, stay or go?
Another figure cut across the sand toward the men. Like them, his black shirt and jeans stood out on the sliver of sand. Sachi was almost to the beach when Gabriel struck the man nearest to him. An elbow to the face sent him down and he caught the second with a sharp punch. The third lunged forward, and Brad made the decision. He fired. Merc’s shot took out the fourth, and Copper hit the fifth guy at a run. Racing, she leaped, slammed both of her knees into his chest and took control of his gun arm in one smooth, coordinated move.
Three seconds from strike to having him down. Once he determined she had her guy contained, he switched his attention back to Gabriel. The spook was smooth. His two were out, but plunks of sand exploded around him and then raced across the open stretch toward Copper. Both dodged.
“Sniper. Water.” Merc warned. Angling his sights toward the water, Brad scowled. Two men were firing from over thirty meters. The rifles they carried had a longer range, but he trusted his angle, and he targeted the gun first. It exploded on the guy and the second went down in a spray as his face vanished.
“Clear?” he asked Merc. Before he could answer, bullets slammed into their tree and shredded the leaves around them. The rapid thwacks sent bark and other debris flying. Switching his rifle, Brad cut his secure cord with a KA-BAR and slid down the tree below the fire line.
Merc hit the ground right behind him.
“That’s not a rifle.” Screams from the beach punctuated the continued fire and a motor tore through the water. Slinging the rifle onto his back and freeing his sidearm, Brad sprinted for the beach. Gabriel and Copper were exposed where all hell broke loose. A shadow at his back, Merc moved with the same purpose. Three years hadn’t dampened their ability to work in concert, and they shared the same goal.
A detonation boomed through the morning, silencing the screams, and a wall of heat billowed from the beach. Ignoring the danger, Brad raced inward. He’d lost her to one explosion before, no fucking way was he letting it happen again.
Rising out of the water, Sachi stared at the smoking remains of the restaurant. Flaming debris continued to flutter downward. Dead men littered the beach. Fortunately, most of the civilians had taken off into the trees at the first sound of gunfire. She’d barely had time to process the grenades before she and Gabriel had headed for the water together to escape the fireball.
Where the fuck was Gabriel? Spinning, she scanned the forms on the beach, then the water around her. The two dead men floated a few meters out, drifting further thanks to the tug of the tide. A motor…she’d heard a motor—and then she spotted the boat skimming the waves. A light skiff, it had come all the way in and it raced out of the cove at speed.
A white shirt reflected the sunlight—Gabriel. Fuck me. The skiff angled toward a boat further out. The light craft crashed up, riding the wave and over it. Too small for long travel, they’d either used it to skirt the island or…yes, it was definitely heading for the boat.
The swim would take time, but she could do it. The men on those boats had weapons, so when she got there, she’d arm herself.
“Copper.” Brad splashed into the water and looped an arm around her waist. “We have to evac, now.”
Shoving him away, she glared. “Gabriel is on that boat.”
“And we’re going to go get him,” Brad told her, hauling her toward shore. “First, we need to clear the area, now.” The order resonated. In the field, Brad outranked her. Abandoning Gabriel flew in the face of everything she believed. Not waiting for her response, Brad got her to the beach and then hauled her with him as he sprinted for the tree line. Merc was a heartbeat behind.
“I have their transmitters.”
The underbrush stabbed at her bare feet. Merc moved to her side as they ran, and both men slammed sharper branches and foliage away. Two klicks to their vehicle, then Copper slid into the back and ripped open her bag. Dragging her clothes on over her damp skin wasn’t comfortable.
Brad started the engine and held his hand out to Merc before he could climb in the passenger seat. “Phone.”
Not questioning him, Merc slapped it in his hand and the jeep lurched forward as Brad accelerated. The trees whipped past, but she had her boots on and a knife strapped to her leg, then another to her arm and a third in the sheath at her waistband.
The phone rang on the speaker setting, and Poppy’s voice was a tad breathless when she answered. “Code in.”
“Tungsten. Five-Delta-Sierra.”
“Confirm, Tungsten. Five-Delta-Sierra. Code word?”
The jeep bounced over a nasty divot, and Copper braced herself as she slid the forty-five into a holster. Merc held a hand toward her and she pulled a fresh clip from the bag at her feet to pass to him.
“Copper. Confirm.”
Brad’s code word was her name? Some other time, she might decide whether she was tickled or irritated.
“Confirmed. What’s going on?”
“Activate Gabriel’s tracker. I don’t have the code to do it from here. We’re on Tortola. He’s been taken by persons unknown aboard a yacht…”
“Mike Alpha Charlie One One Delta Bravo Lima,” Merc supplied. “Eighty-footer, Argentinian flag.”
“Activating Gabriel’s tracker and sending info to your phone. Tin’s team just landed on the island. They are on their way. Titanium orders you to stand down and let the team take point.”
“With all due respect, fuck that. They could be weighing anchor right now. We’re not leaving him.” The grit and absolute certitude in Tungsten’s voice steadied her. The chaos of worry bled away, and she focused. Eighty-foot yacht. Seven men dispatched to bring Brad in, but they’d taken Gabriel instead. “Have them activate our trackers and retrieve, but we’ll be on the yacht. Tungsten out.”
They broke from the tree line and their tires squealed on the passing blacktop.
“You don’t have Gabriel’s tracker I.D.?” Off the rutted road, the vehicle moved even faster, and she could afford the question.
“They never let me have his.” Tungsten gave her a toothy grin, one equal parts amused and furious. “Too worried I’d track him down and slit his throat.”
“Plan?” Merc had one arm braced on the dashboard. They’re green and tans blended well with the natural landscape around them, but stood out in the crystal clear water. Didn’t matter, they could do this. They’d gone up against worse odds in far terrible places. At least the water is warm here.
“Small local harbor, two minutes,” Tungsten said. “Grab a boat and angle out. Make sure they aren’t moving then hit the water and take the yacht. We clear deck–by-deck. Merc, you get the control room and upper deck. If it moves and it isn’t ours, eliminate it. Copper and I are going for Gabriel.”
Hang on, babe. She flexed her hands on the crossbar. He’d been a field agent. He had skills.
“Room-by-room clear, Copper. We can’t afford to be ambushed when we don’t know their numbers.” The orders rippled over her, and she nodded. One thing she did damn well was a mission. If his captors had hurt him… Copper closed her eyes, counted to three and let it go. The emotion drained away. Insert, assess, assault.
Capturing her gaze in a quick glance via the rearview mirror, she saw Tungsten’s eyes held a promise. “We’ll get him back.”
Yes, we will.
Sure enough, the yacht weighed anchor and moved into deeper water away from the destruction on the beach. The speedboat they acquired allowed them to skim the waves and trail the boat. It took some maneuvering, but the yacht pressed on past the cruise ships and more. They were definitely heading away from Tortola waters. Copper’s gaze remained fixed on the boat, her whole body one long line of tension.
Merc took over driving the boat while Brad got their gear together. His shoulder protested the exertions and he ignored the pain. He’d bleed out before he let someone in his family down again. When the yacht slowed and parked, Merc angled them away, as though they were a group on their way out and they dropped anchor a mile out. Open water everywhere. Fun.
“We don’t have equipment to go deep, so we’re going to snorkel it.” They did have those. Breathers at ready, weapons wrapped in waterproof gear and secured, Brad studied the distance. A mile long swim would leave them all somewhat fatigued.
“Three points of entry,” Copper said, as though reading his mind. Then again, she probably had, since she knew how he thought.
“Rally on the deck, move together.” They were better in pairs, but once they cleared the deck, Merc could hold it. Pausing, he ran his knuckles down Copper’s cheek. “We’re getting him back.”
“I’m holding you to that.” No anger. No emotion. Just focus.
“Do.”
Without another word, they tumbled into the water. Tin’s group would be backing them soon enough. If they followed the trackers, they’d be there by the time the deck was cleared and they were below. Soon enough to save their asses if necessary or clean up the mess. Either worked.
Slicing through the ocean, he concentrated on keeping his breathing even. Copper extended herself at first, pulling away from him and Merc. She’d always been a better swimmer, but her hindbrain seemed at war with her tactical mind. When she slowed her pace, conserving her energy, Brad relaxed a fraction. Copper was too professional to lose her shit, but after witnessing the dream and hearing Gabriel’s assessment, he worried about her.
Worry later. Mission now. Training shuttled his personal thoughts to the side, but instead of going quiet, they continued to whisper all the things that could go wrong. Once upon a time, he could go into these missions with a clarity of purpose and faith in the team around him.
He didn’t doubt Merc or Copper’s skills, not even a little. He worried about Copper’s state of mind. He worried about the risk to her personally if she let emotion take over where her training would normally dictate. He worried if they were too late, it would destroy them both.
We won’t be. Being late wasn’t an option. At the yacht, they surfaced one at a time. Merc went up first, and Brad followed him. The stitches on his back complained about the salt water and the pulling. He ignored both. Copper tread water, her gun pointing upward. If they were spotted, the shooters would have to come to the side to get a clear shot, and she’d take them out.
On the deck, he went fore while Merc went aft. Three guards down later, and he covered Copper coming up the side while Merc headed toward the control room. With Copper on his six, they went belowdecks. The quieter they took out the opposition, the better.
A six-and-a-half-foot behemoth appeared in front of him, and the man let out a shout. Seizing his wrist, Brad drove it upward then used a knife to slide right between his ribs. The warning, however, had already been given. Copper emptied three shots into the man racing down the hall toward them. An alarm went off, the klaxon blaring overhead and, below them, the rumble of the engines engaging accompanied the haul of the anchor.
Fuck.
Descending to the next deck, it became a free-for-all. How many fucking guards did the ship have? They dropped the twelfth, since he’d been keeping count, when the engines and alarm both ceased at the same time. Merc had secured the bridge.
A shout from below echoed up the last set of stairs in the aft and Brad held up two fingers as he checked for resistance. Copper went still next to him, her gaze facing the way they’d come. A second shout accompanied a sizzling, staticky sound. She stiffened at each echo.
“Where is he?” A woman’s voice drifted out to them. English wasn’t her primary language and a distinctly Ukrainian accent emphasized her words. “I saw his bitch on the beach, so I know he was with her. Where is he? Turn him over to me, and the pain stops.”
A pause, then Gabriel said, “Really? That’s all you got? Tickling me to death?” The sizzling sound began again, and Gabriel let out another shout.
Copper cut a look to Brad. Yeah, they were going. With two fingers, he gestured her to the other staircase, then pointed to himself and the aft stairs where they stood. She understood and moved on swift, silent feet toward the fore descent stairs. He gave her five seconds to get into position then began his descent.
The stairs emptied into a long, open hallway. Copper appeared a second after him on the opposite end. Tracking the sound, they cleared each room, checking them. Computer terminals occupied one. An office another. The third he came to was open and Copper pressed to the other side of the door.
Inside, Gabriel was strapped to a chair with electrodes hooked to his chest. Brad counted two guards besides the woman they’d heard talking earlier. He held up three fingers to Copper.
She shook her head. Five fingers.
Who the fuck was the cunt in the other room? She had some heavy ass firepower, personnel, and a wealthy fucking boat. Meeting the question in Copper’s gaze, he nodded. One heartbeat. Two. They went on three. In the room, he took the guard at the immediate right of the door. One hard fist to his temporal bone and the man dropped. A blade flew from Copper’s hand and lodged into the device sending electricity into Gabriel. It shorted then stopped.
She shot the man holding it.
The fight was swift and brutal. Neither of them waited. Copper broke one man’s knee even as another tried to grab her in a headlock. A sickening wrench preceded his scream. She slipped low and slammed her head into the second man’s groin. Swinging up, she was behind him. One shot to his kidney and the second to the back of his head with the gun.
Brad had his own issues. He took a fist right to his stitches before he slammed the butt of his gun into his assailant’s face. Bone crunched and blood sprayed, but the bastard didn’t get back up.
Pivoting, he and Copper pointed their guns as one toward the woman holding a knife to Gabriel’s throat. Dark eyes glared at him, her attention full of fury. Thick, black hair framed a completely unremarkable face. “You bastard, I knew you were alive. I knew it.” Holding Gabriel’s hair in her fist, she’d jerked his head back to keep his throat exposed to the razor sharp edge of her blade.
Brad searched his memory. The accent, the looks—none of it registered. “You can play this two ways, zhinka, let him go and we’ll talk, or keep the knife right there and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
Upper lip curling, the bitch scowled. “Drop your guns, or I’ll kill him.”
“Not gonna happen.”
The blade pressed closer and a thin ribbon of blood trickled down Gabriel’s neck. “Then you shoot her.” She jerked her chin at Copper. “If the man means so much to you, shoot her and I will give him to you.”
Brad paused as though considering the offer. “You want me to shoot her for him? I think you overestimate his value.”
A hiss of sound escaped her lips, but Copper didn’t move, didn’t twitch, didn’t react. “He must mean something or you wouldn’t come for him…”
“Seriously, zhinka?” Brad gave her a crooked smile, the one most women seemed to swoon for, and winked. “I don’t even know who you are. I’m here because I like the boat.”
The snarl on her face gave him pause as did the pure rage glittering in her eyes. “You don’t remember me?”
“No, bitch, he might not. But I do,” Copper interceded. She jerked her gaze to the woman. “You’re the stupid FSB agent we seduced to get access to your files.”
“Really?” The moment Copper said the words, recognition struck Brad. It had been years ago—the mission before the beach visit, ironically. They’d been looking for someone feeding weapons into one of the African conflicts, arms dealing with a side of espionage. Their leads took them to an FSB agent.
He’d never have put the face to the op. The woman had been a means to an end. It had been one of the first times he’d had to involve Copper in a seduction. He’d hated every minute of the woman putting her hands on what was his, so no wonder he’d forgotten her. A paper pusher, but with her access they’d gotten what they needed.
“Of course you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I remember what you cost me. So, shoot her or I’ll kill him. Either way, you lose one of them today.” Triumph echoed in her tone. She’d put him in a check position. Brad met Gabriel’s eyes. Cool defiance and…trust shone in them. Gabriel trusted him to not shoot Copper. The trust staggered him where the woman’s hate did not.
The blade continued to press into Gabriel’s throat, and the blood flowed faster. Any closer and she’d sever his jugular and nothing they did would save him. Not acceptable. Swinging the gun, he targeted Copper. Gabriel’s captor let out a little hiss of triumph.
“Sorry, babe,” he told her. She didn’t move, didn’t even look in his direction when he pulled the trigger.
“Yes!” The woman crowed with a cruel laugh. The motion pulled the blade from Gabriel’s throat and Copper fired. A small hole appeared in the center of her forehead, a shocked expression replacing her malicious glee. She fell in slow motion. As a single unit, Copper and Tungsten closed in on Gabriel. Copper checked his throat, and pressed her hand over the bloody wound while Tungsten sliced the tape holding him.
Above them, the steady beat of helicopter blades echoed through the bulkhead. Together they stripped the electrodes off Gabriel’s chest and hauled him to his feet. Bracing him between them, they headed for the stairs…and home.