“We’ll meet your men in Del Rio. They don’t go in, they do nothing without my say-so, is that understood? Everything goes according to our plan. My mother and Sophie are to be protected at all costs.”
Resnick nodded. “I understand. I got it. I’ll make the call.”
Sam relaxed and rubbed his hand up and down Sophie’s arm. “Thanks, Adam. We appreciate the help.”
“Don’t thank me. Just nail that bastard to the wall. That’s my thanks.”
THEY arrived in Del Rio at nightfall. The Kelly jet landed on a bumpy patch of flat soil that had been commandeered by Resnick’s teams. They flew in dark, and Sophie’s fingers left a permanent imprint on Sam’s hands. When they finally rolled to a stop, she sagged like a deflated balloon.
“Rio and Steele are on the ground already. I’ve notified them of the change in head count. They’re awaiting our orders,” Garrett said as he ducked through the exit and made quick work of the steps.
He waited at the bottom and reached for Sophie, who preceded Sam from the plane. Garrett set her on her feet and stared at Sam in the dark. Resnick, Donovan and Ethan followed close behind.
“Adam Resnick?”
The voice filtered through the small group like a ghost. They all turned rapidly, drawing their weapons.
“Kyle Phillips, United States Marine Corps, sir. My men are here and awaiting your orders.”
“Show yourself, soldier,” Resnick said.
There was only a slight shift in the air, and then a dark figure appeared next to Resnick.
Resnick didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“Phillips, this is Sam Kelly and his brothers, Garrett, Donovan and Ethan. You’ll be taking orders from them. This is their mission, but it’s your job to make damn sure they don’t fail.”
“Yes, sir.”
Phillips turned to Sam and extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Sam took his hand and gave it a quick shake. “I appreciate you and your men coming, Phillips. What information do you have for me?”
“If you’ll come with me, sir, we have vehicles waiting, a quarter mile over that hill. I’ll give you the report when we’re inside.”
Sam took Sophie’s hand and Garrett, Donovan and Ethan fell in, surrounding Sophie as they hurried after Phillips. When they reached the line of SUVs, Sam and Sophie got into the vehicle with Phillips and Garrett, while Resnick, Donovan and Ethan got into another.
“We’ve had the target under surveillance for the last six hours. There was a flurry of movement that ended two hours ago with what we believe was the arrival of his last influx of arms. We have two teams surrounding the house and they’re setting explosives now.”
“Have they seen my mother?” Sam asked.
“Negative, sir. There hasn’t been much movement in the house, and without a man inside, it’s tough to see. It was built with defense in mind. No large open windows, few doors, etcetera. Most of the movement has been on the perimeter. They’re preparing for war. I have three snipers. We’ll position them to do the most damage we can before going in.”
“War is what they’re going to get,” Garrett muttered.
“Excellent,” Sam said. “I put my two best sharpshooters for the meeting with Mouton. We could use more around the perimeter.”
“We’re damn good at what we do, sir. I want you to know that. We won’t let you down.”
For the first time since this whole bloody business had begun, Sam felt a kernel of relief. He lived and died by his faith in the U.S. military and special ops. There weren’t better men anywhere in the world, and he was damn glad to have them with him now.
“I’ll need you to brief your men on what’s going down,” Sam said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want whatever information you’ve got on the facility and the number of men and their position. I need to know every inch of this place before we go in. You’ll coordinate with Steele and Rio, my team leaders. They’ll have the field. My brothers and I are taking Sophie to make the exchange for my mother.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Phillips. I appreciate it.”
“No thanks necessary, sir. It’s my job.”
Yeah, a job. He wished that’s all it fucking was this time. Just a job.
CHAPTER 28
IT didn’t feel right. None of it felt right. Sam eyed his surroundings as the SUV rolled up the winding, dusty road that led to the front gate of Mouton’s spread.
Garrett drove and Resnick, who’d insisted on coming along and adding his manpower, rode shotgun. Sophie was squeezed between Sam and Donovan in the middle seat, while Ethan rode in the back.
He glanced sideways at Sophie’s pale features and saw grim determination in the set of her mouth. Over her thin shirt she wore a Kevlar vest that Sam himself had secured around her small frame. Hell, he’d wanted to cover her from head to toe with body armor. He wanted no part of her unprotected. What if something went horribly wrong? How could he ever forgive himself if something happened to her or their child?
He was sorely tempted to tell Garrett to turn around so he could take Sophie back. As if sensing his turmoil, Sophie slid her fingers through his and turned her head to gaze up at him. She squeezed and smiled, and that small reassurance hit him in the gut.
He was a damn fraud. It was his job—his duty—to protect his family, and yet it was Sophie who was determined to protect them all.
He squeezed her hand back, all the words he wanted to say trapped in his throat. He forced his thoughts to the situation at hand.
Steele and Rio had joined Phillips’s teams hours before, when night still shrouded the rocky hills. They’d established a tight perimeter around the compound, and P.J. and Cole were in position, their rifles trained on the front entrance.
It was a mission Sam should have felt good about. Phillips’s teams had evened the odds. He had absolute faith in his own men. This should be a walk in the park. Only this was personal. This was involving people he loved.
Love. God, he loved her. And it had to hit him now? When he was about to put her in danger? He looked away from her because if he didn’t, he was going to lose it.
He had to pull it together. He could not go into this with his head so goddamn messed up. He had to forget love. He had to forget about his mother. He had to forget about Sophie, and oh God, he had to forget about his child.
Just a job. He had to keep objectivity or he was going to make a mistake and he’d lose them all.
Only, his pulse wouldn’t slow, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Over fourteen goddamn years of being fearless and stoic in the face of danger, and he was going to fuck it all up now when it mattered the most.
There were three armed guards at the heavy metal gate. The tension level in the SUV went through the roof. Garrett pulled to a stop and cracked the window.
“We’re here to see Tomas Mouton,” he said coolly.
Sophie went rigid next to Sam.
The guard’s gaze swept the SUV, and he gestured for Garrett to open his door.
“Not going to happen,” Garrett said. “Tell Mouton we’re here. He’s expecting us.”
The guard’s nostrils flared, but he picked up a radio and relayed the information. A moment later the gate began to sweep open, and they were motioned through.
“You stay behind me at all times,” Sam said to Sophie, though he’d already gone over the plan a half dozen times. “You don’t move, you don’t do anything until we tell you, and if I tell you to get down, you drop immediately.”
She nodded but never looked away from the house that loomed closer in the windshield.
They stopped directly in front of the main entrance, exactly in the location they’d pinpointed so that Cole and P.J. had clear shots to the front steps.
Everything hinged on a game of chicken and KGI not flinching first. Sam hoped to hell Tomas was the nervous type.
Garrett got out first but stayed behind the open door. Resnick popped out on his side, and then Donovan got out on his side and knocked the seat forward for Ethan.
“Stay in the truck until I tell you,” Sam murmured to Sophie as he too opened his door.
Sam stepped into the morning sun, glad that the light was behind them. He’d take any advantage he could.
The seconds ticked into minutes until finally the front door opened and Tomas Mouton stepped out, flanked by two guards. He looked nervous—a good sign—and when he caught sight of the men surrounding the SUV he halted, and for a moment looked uncertain.
Sam stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Garrett.
“Where is my mother?” he called out.
The two men were separated by a good twenty yards and a row of four steps leading up to the concrete landing outside the front door.
“Where is my niece?” Mouton returned.
Sam gestured at the truck. “She’s inside.”
“As is your mother.”
Silence yawned, and Sam said nothing, waiting for Mouton to make the next move.
“Bring her out. I want to see her. If you’re trying to pull something, Kelly, I’ll have your mother executed on the spot.”
“As a gesture of good faith, I’ll bring Sophie out. That’s all. She doesn’t make a move toward you until I see my mother. Understand?”
All the air left Sophie’s lungs as Sam backed toward the truck and extended a hand inside. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t want him to witness the terrible fear that streaked through her veins. She grasped his fingers and slid over until she stepped out of the truck.
“Stay behind the door,” Sam directed.
When he was satisfied with her position, he moved back ahead of her to face Mouton.
“You see her. Now I want to see my mother. And she better be unharmed, Mouton.”
Sophie’s uncle’s mouth drew into a frown. No, he didn’t like threats. She’d seen that look countless times when her father had issued a set-down to his younger brother.
Tomas ignored Sam and looked directly at her. He had a distinct look of unease on his face. And fear. She could almost smell his fear. His forehead was shiny in the sunlight, and when she looked down at his hands, they were balled into fists at his sides.
“The key, Sophie. Show me the key.”
Not waiting for direction from Sam, she slowly held her hand up, flashing the metal in the sun so he could plainly see the key and the leather band that had secured it to her father’s neck.
The door opened again and the men surrounding her and the SUV all tensed, each reaching for his gun. The guards at Tomas’s side reacted by drawing their rifles.
Marlene Kelly came into view looking pale and haggard, but Sophie didn’t look at her. No, her focus was on the man nearly covered by Marlene. The man holding one arm tightly around her neck and pressing a gun to her temple with his other hand.
Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her palms went damp, and her stomach clenched in a knot so tight she thought she was going to puke.
It wasn’t possible.
She’d killed him.
Sam froze when he saw the man holding his mother like a human shield. Not much of him was visible, but he could see enough to know he’d been had. Not just had, but truly and royally fucked.
Son of a bitch.
He glanced sideways at his brothers, but he refused to look back at Sophie, refused to give her or her bastard father the satisfaction.
God, when he remembered the tears Sophie had conjured as she fed him that sob story about her home life and how she’d shot and killed her father, it made him want to puke. She was good, and he’d been sucked in, hook, line and sinker.
Was the baby even his or had she lied about that too?
“Jesus,” Garrett muttered.
It echoed Sam’s own thoughts perfectly.
“I believed her too, man,” Garrett said quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.
Sam went cold. Utterly still, and he turned it all off. Right now nothing mattered but getting his mother to safety.
“Let her go, Mouton,” Sam called. “Let her go, and you’ll get what you want.”
“Welcome home, daughter,” Alex called out.
For the first time, Sam turned and put his hand out to Sophie in a stopping motion.
“You don’t move a fucking inch until he lets her go.”
Sophie stood, stock-still, her face pale and drawn. Her hand clutched the key, that goddamn key—did her father even need it? Was the whole thing an elaborate ruse to get Sam and his men in a vulnerable position?
There was too much Sam couldn’t wrap his brain around, but it didn’t matter. His mother did.
While he was still faced away from Mouton, he ordered in quick, urgent tones, “P.J., Cole, take the goddamn shot.”
“I do not have a shot. Repeat, I do not have a shot,” P.J. said.
A split second later, Cole’s voice bled through the receiver in Sam’s ear.
“Negative on a clear shot.”
Sam swore under his breath. He turned back to Mouton, ignoring the pleading in Sophie’s eyes.
“It would seem we’re at an impasse, Alex.”
But were they? Did the bastard even want Sophie? Was he willing to sacrifice her to achieve his means? And what was his purpose? Revenge? None of this made any sense. Why go through such an elaborate charade? Doubt crowded Sam’s mind. Had Sophie really betrayed him?
Pushing aside his emotions, he stared Alex Mouton down. Sam needed to get him talking, needed him to make a mistake so P.J. and Cole could take him out.
“No, we aren’t,” Alex said indifferently. “It really doesn’t matter to me one way or another if your mother dies. Can you say the same?”
Marlene made a sound of panic as Mouton dug the point of the pistol harder into the side of her head.
Sam zeroed in on Mouton’s hand, how it tightened around the stock. His finger hovered and then closed around the trigger. He was going to kill her. Right here in front of Sam and his brothers. And Sam was helpless to do anything but watch.