Night lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't coddle her."
"I wasn't…"
Cobalt blue eyes flashed. "Understand this. She's part of the team and pulls her own weight, knowing full well the risks. She's a damned good soldier."
"So all of the team sees her as just that? Another soldier?"
He could have sworn Night's lips twitched. "We have her back, perhaps more so than we should."
The quiet statement settled Ryan's concerns as he read between the lines. They watched out for his sister as much as they could while letting her do what she did best. More so than the Army allowed and much more to his daredevil sister's liking.
Sucking in a deep breath, he soaked up the realization and focused his mind back on the task at hand.
Chapter 3
"Ran off to play without me again?" Lark whispered, slinking the final few feet to her goal, yet staying a good body's length away from the lethal Wind Warrior. An object in his hand flashed with speed and precision.
Loco stared her direction, as if he had been watching her approach the whole time, curiosity and annoyance quickly replaced surprise on his chiseled face. "That's a damn good way to get yourself killed," he growled at her before turning his attention back ahead.
"Here I thought you adored me."
He snorted. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you again, too," she snapped back, scooting to rest on her belly beside the cranky ex-Marine as she watched him pocket the lethal blade he'd pulled at her sudden arrival. "Night received word you guys are dashing off into an ambush. He's pulled everyone in for support."
"Fuck."
"Yeah." Lark raked the terrain and building in front of her, searching for a weakness or vulnerability in order to allow them easy entrance as Loco spoke low into his communication link with the other two men, rattling off Navajo fluently.
"Who's everyone?"
"What station?"
"Thirteen."
She rolled her eyes. "Great number, Rambo." Adjusting the channel, she quickly slid the receiver into her ear, allowing her to listen in with the other guys already in position.
His top lip curled in an obvious sneer.
Ignoring his surliness, she shifted closer. "Night and Ryan are taking the lead, clearing the way. Tempest has the chopper pulled back, but available for transport or intervention. Dillon is doing his sniper thing. And Rogue…" She shrugged. "Who knows what he's doing."
"Ryan? Rogue? Tempest?"
A small grin crossed her face. "Ryan is my brother. While I wouldn't mind you peppering his backside with birdshot, I kinda like him, so please avoid doing more than creasing him with a bullet. Rogue is our co-pilot, served in the Army with Ryan. Built like a mountain with a caveman attitude. Tempest is the pilot and Rogue's employee. Less huge and temperamental, more cheerful and civilized."
Loco shook his head. "How am I supposed to tell good guys from bad when I've never even seen these people?"
"Simple. If they shoot at you, shoot back."
"Smart ass."
Night's voice carried across the communication link, barking out orders in Navajo.
"We're on, hot shot."
Gracefully, Loco leapt to his feet, rushing to a more forward position, stooped over, blending in with the shadows whenever possible. Lark marveled at his ability to glide across the landscape and melt into a rock, tree, or bush, instantly meshing with any sort of cover available. He didn't tell her to stay right behind him, didn't have to. She recognized a primal predator when she saw one and Loco certainly fit that bill. Mirroring his actions, she followed his trail, sticking close to his side as they made their way to the west wall of the building. If the new information proved true, they would soon be facing scores of armed men with no other objective than to wipe the Wind Warriors from the face of the earth, easing the way for their rich boss to produce more highly addictive and fatal drugs for transport to the US.
Loco pointed upward. Lark automatically glanced up, finding a lowered roof where a motor hummed a few feet from the edge. "Boost me up. I'll take the high road."
He flipped his rifle to his back for a second, made a step from his hands, and carefully hefted Lark to the roof with a strength born of years of physical work. "Everything okay?" he whispered into the communication link.
"Yep. So far." She hugged the large metal boxes, peeking around each side, searching for bandits and for an opening to a ventilation shaft or any other means to enter the building from the roof.
"I'm headed in," Loco whispered to her before going quiet once more.
"Break a leg." With those words, she shuffled ahead, struggling to see in the pitch black night. Before she moved more than ten feet, her shoe stubbed against a raised area. Kneeling, she found a metal door, the top already flipped open. Her gut clenched. Either the access stayed open all the time because no one ventured to the roof except on rare maintenance occasions, or the area below contained a booby trap. A third alternative could be that someone roamed the area, even now, waiting for anyone stupid enough to try to invade the compound from the top. Of course, that just happened to be her.
She hesitated for a long moment.
No guts, no glory.
Sucking in a deep breath, she lowered herself onto the ladder, slowly descending while remaining on high alert for any unusual sounds. When no bullets whined or explosions sounded, she released a sigh, and hopped down onto the cement floor.
The unmistakable click of a gun safety being shoved off froze her in her tracks. Her peripheral vision revealed a dark-haired man in a white T-shirt standing with a handgun pointed at her head. Fear washed over her like a tsunami wave. Her breathing escalated while her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.
"Stupid puta." The man grinned evilly before his face startled and eyes fixed.
Her attacker collapsed to the ground revealing Rogue, in full camouflage makeup, standing behind him, a large blood-covered knife in hand.
She stared dumbfounded at him for a second before pulling herself back together. "Thank you." The soft words carried across the small space.
He saluted her after wiping his blade clean on the expired man's clothing, spun on his heel, yanked his automatic weapon in front, and trotted off, disappearing as quickly as he'd appeared.
Damn scary.
Not just the fact that she almost died on the spot, but their new temporary team member who flowed like a ghost and killed quickly and efficiently. A shudder raced down her spine.
Night's voice broke into her thoughts. Without hesitation, she darted after Rogue, dashing to even out the odds against her brother and the first wave forces.
* * * *
Shit!
Ryan dove for cover around a corner, hearing the cling of bullets ricocheting all around. One small peek revealed multiple armed men dug in behind heavy machinery, shooting at anything that moved. He didn't have enough time for an accurate head count, but the number had to be at least a dozen, putting him entirely on the defensive in possibly the worst firefight of his life.
"Ryan! Location!" Lark's voice shouted through his earpiece in German. Since he didn't understand Navajo, he had no clue what transpired up to that point with the others, relying on instinct and training to push ahead, discover the waiting ambush, and work toward wiping as many out as possible.
"Warehouse. Damn." He ducked as chunks of the wall flew in his direction.
"On the way!"
"No!"
"Hold your position," Night commanded in German, his tone stern and absolute. "Reinforcements on the way."
From a squatting position, he nosed the barrel of his gun around the corner and clamped the trigger, sending a hail of bullets in the general direction of the combatants. No sooner had he pulled back than a small explosion sent one of the warehouse doors flying in large chunks, the other tore a huge tear, large enough to allow a man to squeeze through with minimal difficulty. Yelling began as the enemy realized they were bracketed on two sides by Wind Warriors, sandwiched between deadly firepower and experienced fighters. A few held to their stations, while others fled as fast as they could run away from the battle.
Before he could blink, Lark slid against the wall next to him, her breath sawing from exertion. "Hi." She shot him a quick smile.
He shook his head, amazed at her happy excitement. No matter her female DNA, she certainly received all the courage their ancestors could pass on. Adrenaline junkie in the extreme.
"You okay?"
"Yep."
Digging a grenade out of her pocket, she jabbered away into the small microphone partially covering her mouth. A second later, she pulled the pin and heaved the palm-sized item across the room. The resulting explosion tore open a side wall while leaving a piece of heavy equipment in a pile of spare parts.
Chaos ensued as the other team members poured in through the openings, the
rat-a-tat-tat
nearly deafening as it echoed through the room. By the time the smoke cleared, only the Wind Warriors remained standing.
"That sucked." Cale tossed his gun around to his back.
"You can say that again," Spoon chimed in.
"Who's that?" Loco gestured toward Rogue.
"New guy?" Cale shrugged.
"No shit, Sherlock," Loco grumbled under his breath.
"That's Rogue," Ryan answered, watching the others assess the muscular man.
"Rogue?" Spoon arched an eyebrow.
"Name says it all." The man in question strode by without pausing for the group presently talking about him as if they were bystanders at a major boxing match and he'd just defended his world title.
"Balls to the wall, soldiers," Night ordered, loping over from his position on the opposite side of the partially crumbled building. "In two minutes, this place will be leveled."
As a unit, they raced for the closest opening in the damaged wall, ducked through a wide, ragged crack, and sprinted for safety.
Chapter 4
Tempest watched as the guys darted back to the idling chopper, gaining distance between them and the building as quickly as they could. A moment later, she understood why when a deep rumble sounded and two of the walls cracked and broke, sending the top portions toppling to the ground.
"Just our luck."
"Damn it."
A couple of the guys cussed fluently, frowning severely at the compound stubbornly refusing to collapse into a pile of debris and dust.
"Fucking interior must be made of steel. Now we have to go back and do it again." Loco shook his head and gripped his assault rifle tightly.
Leaning out the side window, she hollered at Night to draw his attention, glad she turned off the blades a while back to conserve fuel and noise levels.
When he marched up, she read the concern across his face. "What's going on?"
"The explosives weren't powerful enough. With the less than devastating amount of damage we caused, there could easily be clusters of tangos hiding out, ready to cut our unit to pieces when we return to set more charges."
"Can't you just leave it like it is?" She glanced at the resigned and worried faces of the Wind Warriors.
"No way. They'll have the walls repaired within forty-eight hours and be back to manufacturing heroin in no time. We have to take it out, bad guys, building, and all."
"Did you get the evidence you were looking for at least?"
He nodded and pointed to Lark and Cale, pulling up the rear. "They found computers and a few files. Enough to keep the DEA busy for a couple of days."
So, with all the items in hand, they simply had to re-enter in order to finish destroying the drug factory, bartering their lives and safety in the process, tempting fate after returning virtually unscathed the first time.
Unable to bear the potential devastating consequences, she made a hasty decision. "Can you gather the group over here? I have an idea."
Night arched an eyebrow, but didn't argue, instead waving the small group over to stand on her side of the chopper. Once they all circled around, he looked to her again. "What's your…"
The chopper jolted. In the blink of an eye, a huge mushroom cloud of fire and smoke lifted to the sky before slowly withdrawing into itself, leaving a huge gaping hole in its wake.
"Fuck."
All but her boss hit the deck, lifting their heads slowly to survey the newly created crater where the building once stood.
"Oops." She blinked innocently at a scowling Rogue. Apparently, shooting at real targets breached the walls of his comfort zone.
"What in the hell was that?" Cale asked, brushing a forearm over his face to mop at the dust and grime as he slowly regained his feet. The others followed in turn.
"Surplus Soviet missile," Rogue answered between clenched teeth.
Night's eyebrows shot up as expressions of wonder and disbelief covered the faces of the rest of the group.