The second the back of the SUV released and before it had fully retracted, Kid grabbed the big man’s wrist pushing the semi-auto down and away from their bodies even as he slammed the palm of his right hand straight up under Reggie’s chin. He felt the bone give way, and he was betting he’d broken the bastard’s jaw. The gun fired—too late to do the man any good. From the angle, Kid knew the bullet went into the bumper of the car.

He'd had plenty of time to use a maneuver to break apart the flex cuffs and free himself. Then he’d released Cris. He was ready when they stopped. It was a fight for their lives.

He kicked backward at Reggie, connecting with the man’s torso, the subgun flying out of his grip and landing somewhere in the shadows. Cris went for him before Kid could stop him, and Reggie backhanded him to the ground. Dazed, Cris worked at trying to get up. But Reggie dismissed him, he knew where his mortal opponent stood ,and his attention went back to Kid, his look as heavy as a charging bull elephant. With a flash of white teeth against the dark skin of his face, he pulled out a knife, the kind of knife Kid loved.

“Let’s see what you got, commando.”

Long, sharp, the edge honed to a killing edge, glinting in the moonlight. Yeah, he had knife envy. As soon as he took that knife, he was gutting the bastard.

Kid blocked his first strike and, at the apex of Reggie’s next swing he instinctively went for control, grabbing the man’s wrist and using his leverage to swing the merc around and slam him into the side of the SUV.

With that maniacal grin on his face, Reggie rushed Kid, his bigger bulk knocking him into the side of the car. Backed up against the vehicle, Reggie bore down with the knife, his muscles bulging, sweat breaking out on his brow. He pressed his arm closer, bringing his hand nearer and nearer Kid’s neck, pushing hard, forcing the knife toward Kid’s jugular. The guy was bulldozer strong, like a freaking machine.

Fuck.

Kid kneed him, threw an elbow strike, blocked an incoming punch…and kept holding the knife at bay, twisting Reggie’s wrist and forcing the lethal tip in another direction.

He took a blow to the body, and then another. Mustering his strength, he slammed Reggie even harder into the SUV, but the merc wasn’t one of those CIA spooks. He was a warrior, and his blows came fast and hard, one after the other, each one a pile driver. The bastard caught him up the side of the head, and pain shot through Kid like a whip crack. Then another strike came at him sharp and fast and deep.

Fuck.

He knocked Reggie’s next blow away and twisted under the man’s other arm, bringing it over his shoulder and jerking it down hard, leveraging it against Reggie’s elbow and having the satisfaction of feeling the joint give way.

Reggie let out a surprised grunt.

The knife fell to the ground from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

But even as Kid went for the knife, Reggie’s good arm snaked around his throat, holding on tight, squeezing him hard and dragging him down to the ground where Cris was struggling back to a sitting position, pulling himself up against the SUV, his eyes glazed with pain.

He curled his legs around Kid’s thighs, his hold punishing. Kid worked at his forearm, but it was huge and sweaty, hard to get his fingers around it.

He struggled and bucked, but was unable to break his hold as the edges of his consciousness went gray.

He was gasping for breath, the pressure against his throat pinching off oxygen, his struggles using up whatever stores he had. He reached down, frantically searching for the knife. When his fingers curled around it, he was almost out of time. He jammed the business end into Reggie’s thigh. The big man howled and let him go, but grabbed the back of his head and slammed Kid’s head against the side of the vehicle.

Kid bounced off, disoriented and reeling, his vision graying again. If he passed out, it was all going to be over. But Reggie despite the broken joint and the upper thigh laceration, was on the move. He grabbed up the knife and climbed onto Kid who was prone on his back. He pinned Kid’s arms down with his knees, his weight pinning him.

He raised the knife. “I guess Bryant is going to be disappointed.”

He had seconds to live.

Sonuvabitch.

He tried to twist clear, heaving his body up and out from under, but he was bucking a solid two-forty hulk off his chest, and that goddamn knife was going to pierce his heart before he could do a damn thing.

Except, a shot rang out.

From where he was, buried under Reggie’s bulk, he heard the gun go off, loud and cracking, an explosion of sound. He felt Reggie’s body jerk hard and then slump on top of him, felt the violent dynamic energy of the merc’s whole being still reaching for him, still in the fight despite his broken elbow joint, and then he felt Reggie collapse, all the fight and energy draining out of him in an instant.

He dragged himself out from under the limp body and immediately snatched up the knife. He saw Cris, the rifle’s muzzle smoking, Cris’s battered and bruised face full of rage.

Impressed with his steadiness and his recovery enough to actually pick up the weapon and hit the guy in the dark made him one lucky Navy SEAL. “Good shot,” he said and with a tight-lipped mouth, Cris nodded.

Reggie’s breathing was ragged, and he clutched at his lower abdomen. He knelt down in front of the guy, bringing them face to face, and pressed the tip of his blade into the side of Reggie’s neck. The guy knew what came next.

“You can bleed out here in this jungle, Reggie,” Kid said. “Or you can tell me where Cris’s family is.” His tone was flat and empty and Reggie could read him loud and clear. It was in his fierce black gaze and in the strength he was using to keep from showing any weakness.

Yeah, Kid figured Reggie was considering his ultimatum very seriously.

Not as dumb as he looked.

Reggie was thinking, staring at him, and struggling with the pain that had to be exploding through him, blood seeping through his fingers.

Now it was time for him to think about betrayal and what he needed to do. Anderson wasn’t just a boss to Reggie, that had been clear to Kid. He was his friend and they were close. Anderson trusted him explicitly.

Good.

“It’s a one-time, limited offer,” Kid said, pressing the blade in a little deeper. Then Cris walked up and set the muzzle against Reggie’s forehead. A few days ago, Kid would have thought this man wouldn’t hurt a fly, but all bets were off when Cris’s family was in danger.

“Where. Is. My. Family!” Cris put his finger on the trigger and Reggie said, “Last hut down the end of the street.”

Kid opened his mouth to ask about Paige, but Reggie collapsed, his eyes rolling up into his head until only the whites were showing, all the tension going out of his body.

Kid stood. He had only moments to save everyone. Cris’s family, Paige, and his brothers in arms. He was torn, then he closed his eyes. The SEALs could take care of themselves. They had signed up for this, even as guilt and anguish washed through him. Paige, more anguish, worse, deep, penetrating. She was a federal agent, and she also knew how to handle herself, but Cris’s wife, his two children were total innocents, caught up in horrible, terrifying circumstances. If he didn’t get them out before the shooting started…they were going to die.

Torn in three different directions, Kid growled out his pain.

“Let’s go get them,” he said, and dipped down to search Reggie. He pulled out the SUV’s keys. “Get in and drive it down to the end of this lane as close to the hut there. See where I’m pointing?”

“Yes. Thank you for doing this. Even after I got you into this terrible mess. Betrayed you.”

“Look, we don’t have time for confessions and redemption right now, Cris. Paige is still out there and my friends are on their way here.”

“Right. Okay.” Kid took the semi-automatic out of Cris’s hands and after another search found three more magazines.

Cris started up the engine and Kid was on the move. He crouched low and ran along the crude fence line of piled stone. The sheep baaed as he passed them, nervously moving around in their pens. There were plenty of rebels in this area, he was just lucky they were preoccupied with the arrival of the SEALs and too far away to worry about a couple of gunshots. He came around the back of the hut and carefully peered into the window. There were three rebels, one was harassing Ariane, the two children huddled in the corner, Riky holding his sister, both of them terrified. They had ripped Jhosselin’s little pink coat, there was dirt on her face, tracks from her tears. His jaw clenched, all his protective instincts mixed in with the rage. Bastards.

He couldn’t help it. He wondered if his father had gone through the same kind of dilemma, caught between saving the SEALs that had died with him or the family.

Kid had an added layer of stress. Paige. He was compelled to go after her, almost to the point of pain, but he knew what his duty was here. She knew what his duty was as well. She would agree. He knew it down to his soul.

But, if he lost her…he cleared his mind. He couldn’t think about this, not about her, not about his father. Kid would do what his own heart and mind told him to do.

He slipped up over the sill and vaulted into the room, bam, the first one went down, bam, bam the second tango was blown away, and Kid turned just as the third brought up his rifle. But Kid was faster and a much better shot. The guy never even got his finger on the trigger.

Cris burst through the door. Ariane cried out his name and ran to him. Kid rushed to the kids and picked up the little girl, who bit her lip but didn’t dissolve into tears. Brave little thing. Grabbing Riky’s hand, he said. “Let’s go.”

They ran to the SUV. Pulling open the door, he ushered Riky in and while he was setting little Jhosselin in the seat, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Ariane was already pulling her own door closed. “Get out of here and don’t stop for anything.”

“Good luck!” Cris said as Kid closed the door on the sweet family and then Cris gunned the engine, the tires tearing up loose stones and grass. He barreled out of the small village.

Kid turned toward the rest of the huts. Paige was in one of them, but he had to take out the rest of the rebels. They were going to eliminate any witnesses.

He refused to have that blood on his hands.

He shouldered the strap, pushing the gun to his back and pulled out Reggie’s beautiful knife. Stepping forward, he melted into the shadows and disappeared. It was time to go on the hunt.

Hang on, babe, I’m coming for you.

* * *

Paige’s hands were free, the flex cuff had snapped from the force of her fall and her weight and Dean’s coming down on top of it.

Three successive gunshots went off, all in a row. That was five altogether, but it was clear Dean was antsy. He raised his head and turned it toward the window. “Ashe is coming for you,” she whispered.

Fear swam in his eyes before he pushed off her, slapping her hard across the face. The stinging pain thundered into her cheek, watering her eyes.

He went to the window. Paige rose off the bed and shook out her arms and hands, rolling her tingling shoulders.

Then she took two breaths and let them out. Dean turned and looked at her, then did a double take. His eyes narrowed when he saw her unbound, but not running, just standing there.

He brought up the gun, and Paige said calmly. “You need a gun to handle a woman, Dean?” Then she made soft clucking noises. His gaze narrowed even further, the bravado of his ego taking over his common sense. She was banking on that and this asshole didn’t disappoint her. Men like him liked to think they were superior to women. Hurting them? That was just one of his perks. Once again, he underestimated her. It was going to be his fatal mistake.

She was an NCIS agent, and she’d had the best training money could buy.

He set the gun against the wall and chuckled. “You wanna spar, missy? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She raised her hands into a fighting stance and smiled coldly. “No, let’s see what you’ve got.”

He bellowed and rushed her. Ready for his brute force move, Paige easily sidestepped his dash, using her foot to kick him in the ass and knock him off balance. He crashed into the wall with a grunt. With a howl of rage, he rushed her again. Swinging at her, with a powerful punch, she knew if it hit her face, he’d probably break her jaw. She ducked, kicked, and struck out with the side of her hand, a stunning blow knocking him down. He stayed down for a few seconds, then raised his head, shaking it like a wet dog. The man couldn’t shake it hard enough to get some sense in it.

He reached out and grabbed her leg, jerking her with such force, she landed hard onto her back. He scrambled to get on top of her, but she had the presence of mind to bring up her knees, and using her feet, she propelled him violently off her using her legs as a powerful fulcrum.

She flipped up to her feet from her back, a move her instructor told her would come in handy. She turned, running for the gun, but he caught her from behind. She went with the hold, turning into it and bringing her leg up and out in a stunning roundhouse kick that went straight to Dean’s solar plexus. He went down hard, doubled over.

He was trying not to kill her because he wanted her alive which was not a comfort. Far from it. The realization only spurred her on to fight harder, faster against him. He was holding back and that was her advantage. But she had no qualms about killing him.

She was good, but Dean was a warrior and sooner or later he was going to gain the advantage. She’d gotten in a couple of powerful hits, even heard something crack, but she wasn’t going to hold him off forever. She was drenched in sweat. Her head was ringing from one of his blows she had been just a tad too slow to block. He was hard on the attack now.

Block. Parry. Strike.

She was running out of time, barely keeping him at bay. He grabbed her around the waist and squeezed. She cried out and boxed his ears, sending him reeling away from her, but his fist connected with her chin and she collapsed to the floor. She had to get up, run.

Time slowed.

She heard a hissing sound, instantly followed by a loud snap as the door burst open, banging against the wall.

Dean struggled up, a murderous look on his face. He didn’t care anymore about not hurting her, killing her. It was in the chilling, cold depths of his eyes, but two quick successive shots all but blew his head off.

Blood spattered. Dean stumbled back.

Kid Chaos.

He stood silhouetted in the doorframe like a phantom in the pale mist, his hands clasped around the subgun.

“Paige.” His gaze locked on her as he dropped the weapon and rushed to her, sliding to the floor and gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, breathing hard and letting his strength wrap her.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

Above her Ashe closed his eyes, rubbing her spine, his usually steady heartbeat racing.

She tipped her head back and met his gaze. In a breath, he was on her, his mouth rolling heavily over hers, his hands riding up her back to lodge in her hair. She wanted it, wanted more. She wanted so much freaking more. And from one heartbeat to the next, she realized that working hard, giving up everything meant jack shit. Giving yourself, building something, making a life was what she wanted. Not the barren existence she’d been living. Ashe showed her that affection and attention didn’t come from giving up everything, it came from giving everything. Everything.

“We’ve got to go, now,” he said and both of them froze. The faint whop, whop, whop of a helicopter’s rotors broke the quiet of the night.

“The SEALs,” she said. “Oh, my God. We won’t make it in time.”

Then together they said, “The ATVs.” The ones they’d stashed in the jungle when they were investigating the rebels. He went to Dean, took the gun holstered at his hip along with any ammunition he had on him.

He turned poised to run and then he stopped, grabbed Dean’s rifle. “Ah, Dean had been the sniper that had killed those Bolivian police. Hello, baby,” he crooned. He shoved the subgun into her arms and took up the rifle, slinging it over his back. “Now we’re talking,” he said confidently, then they were off and running.

* * *

Cowboy thought about his conversation with Kid. About going home, about what Kid had said about his father. Cowboy thought again about his own circumstances and going home after this op was over. As a teenager, he’d had the big kind of shoes to fill as Kid did, only Cowboy’s father hadn’t been in the military. He’d been a hard-core, bucking-bronc-breaking, cattle roping, calf branding, fence riding cowboy. The real deal. He was also one tough son of a bitch. His regret was just as real.

His gut churned and had nothing to do with the op and everything to do with his disgrace and shame by association. The father he’d looked up to had destroyed not only his own reputation, but Cowboy’s as well.

They were getting closer to the DZ and the Kirikhan rebels, and not a SEAL on this bird didn’t know everything there was to know about them. They were a pain in NATO’s ass, hooking up with terrorists. Killing civilians and blowing up shit all over the world to draw attention to their cause. They were ruthless, fought to the death, and were happy to kill anything in a uniform.

It was just the six of them deployed off the USS Annenberg—Ruckus, Hollywood, Scarecrow, Blue, and Wicked. Tank had stayed back with Echo. As Cowboy peered out the chopper’s porthole, he saw jagged peaks, then deep, dark lush jungle, with dots of livestock he thought were sheep and a couple of llamas. As they reached their destination, the all go came through the comms. Cowboy scanned the terrain below, then he saw it, the downed plane wedged up against a thick tangle of trees, the chewed-up scar a great place to set down a chopper.

We’re almost there, Kid.

Something streaked across the bow of the chopper.

“RPG. Evasive maneuvers!” The co-pilot yelled. Cowboy stiffened. Hollywood pulled open the door and braced his feet on the runner. He set the .50 cal to his shoulder and started shooting.

Cowboy hated it when his enemies started connecting to each other and there was no doubt this mission was compromised. It made the hair rise on the back of his neck, because if there was one thing he and his team didn’t believe in besides unicorns and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, it was coincidences of any kind.

Kid had saved his ass in the Darién Gap, and now it was his turn to have his back, and the Kirikhan rebels were just about to get a taste of a fully operational Wes McGraw. A hard-core, bucking-bronc-breaking, cattle roping, calf branding, fence riding cowboy. One tough son of a bitch.

But, Dad, you and I had a very different view of honor.

As they dodged another RPG, and Hollywood continued to sling hot lead, Cowboy was just waiting for touchdown, then it was game on. Hoo-yah.

* * *

When they reached the ATVs, Kid said, “You drive.” She mounted the oversized small four-wheeler and Kid slid on behind her. She took off and headed straight to the crash site at full throttle. The woman was just as fearless as he was.

Just as she broke out of the trees, there was a pocket of rebels and several of them had tubes to their shoulders. Kid rose as she raced over the rough terrain, planting his feet on either side of her, bracing himself against the runners. He tapped her shoulder twice, and she slowed the vehicle down a few notches.

He sighted on one of the rebels and took a breath, then held it, aiming for body mass. He squeezed the trigger, automatically compensating for movement and the jerking motion. The man dropped, and there was a shout. Several of them turned toward the ATV and opened fire, One of the men with another RPG shot off a rocket right at them. It missed its mark, but was enough to flip the vehicle and knock them both to the ground.

Dirt and rocks rained down on them, momentarily stunned. “Paige?”

“I’m fine.”

Automatic gunfire chewed up the ground next to them. He grabbed her arm, and they scrambled over to the ATV that was now on its side. The Black Hawk was still airborne, and Kid smiled when he heard the .50 cal. Hollywood was throwing lead.

He turned to her. “I need you to lay some cover for me.” She nodded and prepared to pop up and keep the rebels at bay. They had taken cover behind the plane. As soon as Paige started open firing, he rose and picked off as many as he could through the scope.

Well that took about five minutes to go straight to hell.

So much for all his well-laid plans for the night, all his running around like a goddamn chicken trying to keep all the other chickens out of trouble.

The area between the plane and the rebels, including Anderson didn’t offer much cover. But Kid was going to run that bastard to ground. It was part of Paige’s mission to bring in the man responsible for those MPs’ deaths. Dean was dead and Reggie was most likely gone, too. So that left only Anderson to take the fall.

It was clear the woman beside him had combat training. NCIS agents were assault ready, but she was damned impressive. He was breathless at the speed with which she acquired a new target and kept them pinned down, desperate to get off their own bursts of rapid fire.

The Black Hawk landed now that the RPG threat was neutralized. He saw the SEALs deploying. It would be a matter of time before this was mopped up.

“Anderson,” she said low and determined, jamming another clip into the magazine, then rubbing at the right side of her chest. Kid saw a figure break from the plane and race off into the night. Paige didn’t hesitate. With bullets still flying, she broke cover and sprinted after him. Cowboy shifted their way, his gun coming up, training on her racing form. Kid shouted as he chased after her and Cowboy lowered his weapon.

It was time to bag Anderson, and he was going to make sure that he covered Paige’s back.