“There won’t be more than a few minutes when we’re alone with Cortez.” Hawk said again, as if he was the nervous one and needing some affirmation.
“I know. The guys have been creeping through the jungle for the past hour, making their way in. I get it. Now who’s doubting who?” she whispered, sounding snarky and not meaning it. “Just drive and get us there, please?”
Hawk’s grin revealed how ready he was.
“How’s the vision?”
“Good again today.”
She nodded. “Let me know if that changes.”
“You know I will.” He drove the little rice burner down the deeply rutted road that lead to the main house. The house, which in ten years had become neighbor to the growing warehouse district, which had been key in finding Coretez’s holdings. As it so happened, his property wasn’t all that far from town anymore.
She bounced one way on the seat, then braced herself against flailing into him in the next instant. “Jiminy. Slow down?” she asked rhetorically.
They past a few outbuildings. Jamie reported in that they held old machinery—farming, mostly. About halfway to their destination, a car pulled out onto the road in front of them.
“An escort,” Stacy whispered. The house came into view. “John was right. This place is a dump. Shame, too. Looks like it was once a nice home.”
When the vehicle in front of them stopped, Hawk pulled up next to it and turned off his borrowed one.
Her daughter was here somewhere. Stacy opened the door, got out, and slammed the door shut. She was more than ready for this. Hawk got out as well, and they both walked up to the house with the goon from their escort vehicle behind them.
She slowed, testing the response, and was chilled by the feel of a barrel, pressed into her spine. “I guess we keep going,” she said. And her heart fell as four more of Cortez’s men preceded Cortez, himself, and approached them with guns raised.
Cortez limped, favoring one side. Stacy’s heart stopped, her breath came out in a rush at the sight of the man she’d once known as Michael. He might have escaped the fire in Belize, but it had been by the skin of his teeth—literally. Her stomach rolled. The right side of his face was a raw, melted mess of flesh. He held his arm loose at his side, unmoving.
“Welcome to Manila, Nathan Hawkins and Stacy.”
“Jesus,” Hawk gazed, unflinching. “Looks like Belize left you a little worse for wear.”
The man’s replying grin had her moving closer to Hawk.
“It is time for the festivities. We’ve been planning your arrival for two days.” Even his voice sounded different to her. “Come this way.”
Hawk held out a hand when Stacy would have gone before him. His warm hand enveloped hers as they followed.
Cortez turned. “Oh, no. Not you Nathan. Just her.”
“No fucking way. You wanted us together, you got us.”
She gripped his arm. “Let me go to our daughter.”
“We stay together, Stacy.”
She’d known it would come to this, that Cortez would separate them because together they were stronger. “Please,” she held his face, looked into this eyes. “Trust me.”
Cortez waved a hand, and one of the men behind them stepped up and shoved his gun into Hawk’s side. Hawk grunted, turning and moving away from her.
Stacy kicked the man’s weapon aside, swinging her leg again to get his face. He pivoted, arching his back, and laughed at her efforts. Hawk, with his feet back under him, stepped between them and took the brunt of the man’s next swing right in the chest.
Cortez raised his voice. “Alto.” Then he faced Hawk and Stacy. “Really, let’s not argue as if you have a choice. Nathan, you will stay here with my men because what I have planned for you will not include ever being able to touch your family ever again. You will be cut off from your wife, your daughter. And you will watch them die.”
“No,” Stacy said, reaching for Hawk, her gut instinct to put herself next to him. Someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her out of his reach.
“No,” Hawk moved forward.
The cold barrel of a gun pressed against her head.
“Yes.” Cortez growled. “Now.”
Lifting his hands, Hawk stepped back. She caught his gaze. Saw confidence and certainty in them. He would get her back; he wasn’t going to lose her. This was not the end.
She nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hawk let her go this time, even though he didn’t like it. And frankly, neither did she.
The patio Cortez led her into had to be the one Hawk described. There was the little pond, overgrown by ivy with only a very dark sludgy water at the bottom. And in the corner, growing out of the destruction and demise left behind was a thick, full growth of flowers on a vine. Gorgeous blooms that wound up and over the wall separating the home from the fierce jungle beyond.
“Your wife must have loved it here.”
Cortez whipped her around, putting his face so close to hers, she could smell the burnt of his flesh. She reared back, pissing him off, though, and he grabbed her arms, hard. So hard, she held her breath to keep from making a noise.
“My wife was the heart of this place.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It shows.”
He scowled, throwing her to the ground. “Come with me. And no more talking. It’s Hawk’s turn to talk. And then, because I am quite tired of living this life, I think we will all go to our final destinations. We shall meet our maker, eh? Do you believe in God, Mrs. Hawkins?”
Stacy bit her lip, refusing to answer, knowing he wasn’t really expecting one.
He opened the rotting door at the far side of the patio, and a strip of moonlight lit the floor across the wide room where a small body lay against the dirt not eight feet away.
Stacy hurried across the room and fell to her knees next to her little girl. “Moira.” She turned her still body over. “What did you do to her?”
She leaned in close, felt a brush of air against her cheek as Moira took a breath and let it out. “Oh, thank God. I’m in. I have her. She’s alive,” her voice stayed low, her words directed to the team. “Get her something to drink,” Stacy demanded of the man who now stood over her. “Have some compassion. She’s just a little girl.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Stacy’s insides froze. “I’m talking to myself. What do you think? I’m talking to you, asshole. She needs water. She needs to get cleaned up.”
Cortez reached down and seized her hair, pulling her back at the same time. “Bitch. Who are you talking to?”
Pain ripped through her. “Let me go,” she said, gripping the arm above her head.
“Mom,” Moira’s voice was barely a whisper that reached out to Stacy as she clambered to get away from the bruising hands. Her legs were free, and she twisted her body, working to get them under her.
Cortez’s strength surprised her, though, as he dragged her back, back across the dirty floor. She didn’t want to scream, didn’t want to scare Moira. He’d known. How had he known that she was talking to someone else? The location device in her shoe was undetectable, and she had a short-range communication device in her ear—small enough to be invisible, especially in this dark. And it wasn’t like Cortez had any nifty techno gear in this old, ramble shack of a building.
The sound of gunfire from outside filled the air. The team was close behind her.
Cortez screamed at her, “I said to come alone.”
“No. We did. That’s nothing.”
He dropped her and pressed a knee to her shoulder. “You will pay, pay, pay…” He kept repeating that word and then ripped her shirt open, and too quickly for her to react, he felt her up and down her sides. Anger blinded her, and she lashed out and jack-knifed off the floor. Her knee connected with his shoulder. He smacked her down, pulled a rope from his pocket, and bound her hands in front of her.
She whimpered a little when he tightened them.
“Don’t move, Cortez!”
The sound of Craig’s voice in the open doorway distracted Cortez, and he looked up. The man’s silhouette was a large, welcoming shadow. Stacy rolled away, got her legs under her, and crouched.
Cortez moved, too, and stood over her, a grin on his face, and when she slammed into him, he clocked her in the head with the butt of a gun.
Well, damn.
***
As soon as Stacy and Cortez left his sight, the driver tased him. The charge was weak, and the jolt sent him to the ground but didn’t paralyze him. He twitched once, catching his breath, and sweat dripped down his face.
The Cortez army surrounded him. Hawk noted the M-16s, probably the same ones that had been around ten years ago. The big man dragged him up to a stand. Hawk held his hands up in surrender.
He blinked away the coming haze counted down, silently. When he heard the familiar whistle, he threw a kick back into the big one’s gut, grabbed the gun, and dove for cover as he opened fire into the mob of men who were waiting for a chance to kill him, kill his family, and kill his team. His team swarmed in to back him up, and taking down the rest.
Craig went in the direction Cortez took Stacy.
Hawk’s world had gone fuzzy. For now, it was going to have to be enough. He followed Craig, with Tan and Jamie at his back.
Matt and Ranger were coming up from the back of the property, and Bobby was set to extract them as soon as possible.
“Don’t move, Cortez!” Craig lifted his weapon and aimed it into the dark room.
The shuffle of footsteps came from across the room, and the sharp sound of Cortez’s weapon flashed in front of them. They all ducked, crouching to make themselves as small as possible, and a door opened. Two bodies slipped through before it slammed shut.
Clunk.
Silence rang through the small room.
“Craig.” Hawk didn’t have to say more, and Craig ran for the small body on the floor and lifted Moira into his arms.
Heart torn, Hawk ran for the door. He tried it first, found it locked, and pounded against it. “Cortez!” He shoved his shoulder into it. “Ranger,” he spoke, knowing ear devices connected them all. “What do you hear from Stacy?”
“We lost her signal, boss.”
“And the tracking device?”
“Nope.”
Hawk kicked at the door. It gave a little. He pounded against it with his shoulder, once and twice, three times. “Jamie!” he called
And they all froze at the sound of rotors in the air above them.
“He had an escape plan all along. Bobby,” Hawk called one last time as panic slid through his bones.
“Get eyes on the sky. I want to know where this guy is going. And then get your ass out front.”
“In front in thirty seconds.”
Hawk strode for his daughter who was clinging to Craig’s neck as if her life depended on it. When she saw Hawk coming, she released her rescuer for the safety of her father. He clutched her hard. “Baby. You okay?”
Her lip trembled, and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Over her head, he nodded to Craig and to his men.
As they crossed out of the drive and into the road, Bobby rumbled up to them in a big army green truck with a red cross on the side. It had to be close to sixty years old. Probably left behind after the war. “Where did you get this dinosaur?”
Bobby patted the door under his arm. “Found it in Barba’s fleet. Figure it would do the job.”
Hawk carried Moira around to the back and let Craig climb up first before handing her off. “I have to go get Mom,” he said as he kneed himself up to the landing spot and leaned over her, brushed her hair off her face. He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“She’ll be all right, right Moira?” Craig grinned, as if carefree. Hawk could tell the man’s hands would be extra gentle, and he’d have Moira’s life for his own if necessary.
Hawk placed a hand on Craig’s shoulder before he stepped down. “See you back at Barba’s.”
He turned to the last three of his men and the two of Barba’s who would follow him to the end. “Tan? What’s the word on Cortez’s homemade bomb?”
“Disabled. This house ain’t going anywhere tonight. Not like Cortez was hoping, anyway.”
“Good.” The four of them walked back through the darkened patio, past the empty koi pond, and into the main house’s living room. The silence was deafening.
“False alarm on the helicopter. It never touched down. Cortez is still down there somewhere.” Bobby reported from the truck.
Hawk didn’t waste any time. He didn’t slow at all as he crossed the room and gave one solid kick to the door just beneath the knob. Wood splintered and the bolts broke lose as the door opened. “There.”
“Really? A dark, underground tunnel?” Jamie muttered, going first into the recesses of the old house.
“He must have always expected trouble.” Hawk replied, feeling his way along. “He’s got a good five minute lead on us, so let’s keep the pace up. Stacy will work to distract him and slow him down.”
He knew it in his gut. She would do whatever she had to.
When they’d gone about a hundred meters, light shown in front of them. Hawk held his hand up, and the guys all slowed and came to a stop. The walls were wet. It was an island, after all, and basements were almost nonexistent this close to the coast.
The tunnel made a turn, leading them back up toward the surface of the earth. The dirt under his feet became firm, drier. And then he heard it, and stilled, signaling a halt to the team as well.
Cortez spoke. “Lift her up, Jorge.”
When Stacy didn’t answer, didn’t even make a sound, Hawk moved forward in the tunnel. Something was wrong, very wrong. One more turn in front of him brought him into a square, underground bunker made of cement. A ladder lead to the manhole above, unnatural light shown down and the noise from above came through…like noise in a tin box.
The warehouse. And two linen clad legs and dark shoes disappeared from sight.