Luke landed the plane on a dirt road, four miles east of the hacienda, about seven miles away from the airfield. If the cartel was watching for him, the last place they’d look was east. Though only four miles, the mountainous terrain provided concealment to ensure he wouldn’t be seen. “Wombat ready to leave the nest,” he said into the comm as he shut down the engines.

“Snow White’s party has just landed,” Asa replied, substituting the Disney character for Mia’s name. Garth had turned his attention to another matter heating up in Pakistan, though Luke was fairly certain the CO was irritated that he’d gone airborne after being told to sit and wait for orders. No apologies. Luke had proved himself right. Though now the smarter, safer move would be to wait for reinforcements to arrive.

“Roger that.” After affixing the silencer to his Berretta, he grabbed his bolt bag, tossed in a bottle of water and the last of the peanuts. Once outside, he rolled in the dirt, soiling his white t-shirt, then rubbing his arms and face. He reached in his bag and pulled out a khaki ball cap to cover the blond hair.

With no time to waste, he headed up the steep incline at a fast jog. Ten minutes in, he’d worked up a sweat. It would have been nice to have landed at the airstrip and have a nice flat walk to the hacienda, but he would have been shot before he made it to the house.

Once he reached the plateau, he crouched, moving beneath the outer branches of the avocado trees, careful to step rolling across the balls of his feet so not to alert the birds. An old Aboriginal tracker taught him to move through the bush like a tiger. Birds were always the first thing to give a hunter away. When Luke was in the RAAF, he’d spent a summer up near Darwin learning to be a native—lessons that had saved his neck more than once.

A few minutes later he reached the nine-foot chain link fence with razor wire, Luke tunneled under with the camp shovel. He used the shelter of the trees, stopping at each and checking three-sixty. As he neared the mansion, he slowed his pace. There was no doubt the cartel was on full alert. Using his wide-angle vision, he swept the Berretta from side to side as he moved through the garden. Once he reached the hedge around the pool, he stopped and studied the house. A shooter paced the upstairs balcony. Another was leaning against the wall of the pool house. They were both armed with AK-47s—no surprise.

Slowly, Luke crept around to the utility door and inspected the area from behind a hibiscus shrub, listening intently. When he was positive the coast was clear, he aimed and shot the security camera with his silenced Berretta. A screen of static wouldn’t fool them for long, but it might buy him some time. He dashed across the open pathway to the door and grabbed the knob.

Locked. Shit.

Dropping to his knees, he pressed himself against the door. It didn’t recess far, but he’d make use of what little cover it offered. Reaching inside his bolt bag, he grabbed the rake and pick. Taking a deep breath, he focused his attention on the lock, holding in the tension pick while he worked the rake.

Click.

He cracked open the door a hair as he replaced his tools in the bag. After taking one last glance over his shoulder, he slipped inside and closed the door without a sound. Blinking to help his eyes adjust to the dim light, the moved further along the corridor, the noise from a dryer in the laundry room rumbling at a low hum. He continued forward, ready to shoot, both hands supporting the butt of his Berretta. He covered each room as he passed.

Ahead, Theresa stepped into the hallway. She gasped, dropping her load of washing.

“Mr. Lewis?” the woman asked, raising her hands—the only woman at the hacienda he might trust.

Damn, he didn’t want to shoot her. He hesitated for a second, eyeing her down his sights. Would she scream?

She didn’t. She moved toward him as if unfazed by the loaded gun pointed at her heart. “El Padrino has Mia in his office,” she whispered. “Three men are guarding outside the door.”

“Where are the others posted?” He lowered his weapon.

“Most are in the front of the house—five or six. I think there are two out the back. The rest are either at the gate or patrolling the grounds. How did you get in here?”

“Very carefully.” He patted her shoulder. “Will you promise not to give me away? Else I’m going to have to tie you up.”

She crossed her heart. “I swear. Bruno told me if you hadn’t saved him during the ambush, Juan would have left him to die. I owe you for my son’s life.”

“Thank you. You’re a good mama.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But you need to take him away from here.”

Luke headed through the labyrinth of rooms to the back stairs of the east wing, taking each step silently. The closer he got to the top, the louder his breath rushed in his ears. He had one chance to do this right.

Stopping on the last step, he stood against the wall, turning his ear and listening for sounds.

“No!” screamed a muffled woman’s voice—Mia’s voice.

“You bitch!” El Padrino yelled.

Rage shot up Luke’s spine and boiled through his blood. It was all he could do not to break into a run and kick in the door—but that was a sure-fire way to end up dead. He led with his gun and whipped around the corner.

Marco saw him first, reaching under his arm for his revolver, the whites of his eyes glowing like a madman. “Lewis!”

Luke fired. His bullet pierced the man’s forehead between those enormous eyes. He didn’t blink as he shifted his aim, immediately nailing the second gunman. He shifted his aim to number three.

Crack! A shot fired just as Luke’s bullet caught the third man in the head. Had he been hit? No time. No pain.

Surging forward, he kicked in the door, expecting to see the worst. He filled the doorway, ready for battle. But the sight before his eyes was the last thing he expected.

No, the shot hadn’t come from the third man.

Awesome, tough, badass Mia stood over El Padrino’s dead body with a 9mm SIG Sauer in her hand. Shaking like a leaf, her eyes were round and filled with horror. “I-I-I.” Those beautiful blues shifted downward. “He-he’s dead.”

Luke rushed inside and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the gruesome sight. God, his heart twisted in a million knots and he pressed his lips against her temple. “Look at you. You’re so brave. I am amazed at how strong you are.”

She trembled like the puppy cold and wet. “I-I didn’t mean to. But he slapped me and threatened to kill me w-w-with that.” She thrust her finger at the crown of pain.

“You did the right thing, sweetheart. A man like Vincent Morales has no use on this planet.” Luke knew how devastating it was for anyone to make their first kill. But from the shouts rising from down below, he needed to move fast. “We don’t have much time. Are you able to run?”

Mia nodded. “Get me out of here. I never want to see this place again.”

Luke pulled her toward the door and picked up one of the guards’ AK-47s. “We’re heading out the utility exit. Cover my six.”

The shouting grew louder along with the footsteps slapping the tiles in the foyer. By the time they hit the stairs, guards were already on their way up. Luke reached around the corner and fired repeating shots. He pulled Mia flush against the wall, waiting for return fire but none came.

She grabbed his wrist. “This way.”

Luke followed her into El Padrino’s bedroom. “We can climb down the trellis,” she said, dashing across the floor and opening the doors to the balcony.

Luke yanked back the covers and grabbed a bedsheet on the way, then pulled her behind him. Crouching, he led with his gun and checked for shooters. “It’s too dangerous to climb down. Takes too long.” He tied one corner of the bed sheet around the balcony rail using a slipknot. “Hop onto my back.”

“What?”

“We’re going to slide down.”

Mia did as he asked. Luke climbed over the rail and wrapped the bedsheet around his elbow and they belayed down to the ground.

Crack!

Luke dropped to the footpath, pulling Mia beneath him. He spotted the shooter, took him out with one shot, then scanned for others. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to use the pool fence as cover. Keep your head down. Once you reach the hedge, run straight to the back fence. I’ll be right behind you. You see anything move, shoot it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mia led with her gun just as she’d been trained while Luke took up the rear, sweeping the AK-47 from side to side and to the rear. Every flicker of movement got a bullet and, by the time they reached the fence, five were down. It took him two seconds to find the hole where he’d ducked under. He pointed. “Slip through. I’ll follow.”

He stood guard as Mia escaped. The gunmen encroached. Luke kept them back with sweeps of rapid fire. As he slipped under, bullets pelted the ground just short of him. Firing the AK-47, he backed through the hole until the clip ran out.

“Are you hit?” Mia asked as she looked to his arm, bleeding profusely.

Luke didn’t feel a thing. “I don’t think so.” He shoved a boulder over the hole. “Hurry! Follow me. We’re running as fast as we can.”

They purchased some time blocking the fence, though by the time they made it to the bottom of the hill, shouts resounded from just over the crest.

Luke lowered the plane’s stairs. “Inside.”

Gasping for breath, Mia climbed into the jet. “How are you going to fly this out of here?”

“Ever do a J turn with a plane?” Chuckling, he pulled the door closed and dashed to the cockpit.

“No.” She slid into the co-pilot seat.

“Me neither.” He grinned. “But I think we just need to reverse. Pray.” Luke had taken off in a lot of precarious situations, but never on a pothole invested gravel road like this one. Hell, there were boulders the size of his head everywhere. The engines roared to life as he guided the plane in reverse, moving blind.

Gunshots cracked from the hill, pinging the metal frame of the Gulfstream. If they didn’t take off now, the bastards would take out the engines. Pushing the yoke forward, he demanded full power.

Luke clenched his teeth and focused on the stretch of road ahead. “We’re gaining speed.”

“Faster!” Mia shouted.

The plane tilted upward with a rush of wind. Luke grinned at her. “We made it.”

She smiled back, until her gaze shifted to his arm. “You’re still bleeding.”

He felt the laceration now and flexed his muscle, cringing with the sharp pain. “It’s just a scratch.”

“That may be, but you need some first aid.” She unfastened her seatbelt. “I’ll get the kit.”

“Be careful. We might hit some turbulence before we reach cruising altitude.” He put on the headphones and flipped on the comm. “Batman, this is Wombat, over.”

“Talk to me,” Garth’s voice came in loud and clear.

“Mission accomplished. The villain is dead and Snow White has been kissed by the prince.”

“Good God! Just like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Troops are moving in. As we speak, law enforcement is taking down drug supply operations in twenty-five countries and LuLu Togs is toast. Fine work, soldier.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m flying Sleeping Beauty to Iowa. Over and out.”