Wolfsbane (23 page)

“All stop.”

Canyon came up on Squirt, Legend, and Frogman huddled near a stump. The others gathered round, including Roark, who hovered to his right.

Squirt peered through a pair of binoculars aimed toward the congested village. “They’re there.”

“As planned.” Frogman traced a finger along a map pressed over his knee. “Head northwest—stick to the trees. We’ll rendezvous here.”

On the other side of the village.

Frogman and Squirt jogged south a dozen feet, then burst across the open field toward the village, zigzagging from one point of cover to another. Finally they vanished into the crowd of shacks.

“Let’s move,” Cowboy said.

Silently the remaining six slunk around the perimeter of the open field that separated trees from the tangle of cement buildings, laundry strung from roof to roof, and kept the team from exposure.

Attuned to Roark’s movements, Canyon worked his way to the rendezvous point with precision, ears trained on the swish of the tree limbs, the creak of the Kid’s boots. Twenty minutes found them laid out flat on the ground, hidden from view by the natural slope of the land. Darkness draped over them like a wet blanket.

The throaty—and noisy—rumble of a diesel cracked the stormy night. Canyon peered down the scope of his M4. Two metal hulks lumbered out of the small town. A flicker of light from the interior of the first vehicle—an old Jeep Forerunner. The other, a beat-up Hummer.

“That’s them,” Cowboy said. And with that, they crawled toward the road.

Though the vehicles slowed they did not stop. Canyon grabbed Roark’s hand and sidled up next to the Hummer. He ripped open the rear passenger door and swung her toward it. She clambered into the darkness. Canyon dove in after her.

Dry. Warm. Stale. He wrinkled his nose.

“Aw man,” the Kid said from the right front passenger seat. “This thing stinks.”

“It’s dry and it runs.” Squirt glanced in the rearview mirror, the light of the instrument panel glowing against his greased-up face. “Might want to buckle up.”

Canyon glanced over his shoulder. Lights fractured the night, jouncing in hot pursuit.

CHAPTER 13

P
ing! Tsing!

“Down!” Canyon grabbed her head and shoved it forward.

Wind ripped at her—and only then did she realize the window had rolled down. She peeked up and her breath backed up into her throat. Canyon leaned out the window, his M4 aimed at the vehicle behind them. Between the wind and the rain and the speed of the Hummer, she was amazed he could maintain his grip on the weapon.

Shots riddled the night.

The Hummer trounced and pitched. Dani slipped to the floor and braced herself. The din of the elements almost devoured the report of his weapon.

Ping! Ping! Thud-crack!

Glass dribbled down on her with fat drops of rain. Canyon slid back into the Hummer, groping in the dark for something.

“What do you need?” she shouted.

He straightened, something in his hand.
Clink!
He stretched an arm out the window and flung the object. “Frag out!” With that, he dove down—at her.

Brilliance ripped the night in two.

“Hang on!” Squirt shouted.

The Hummer’s back end lifted.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” the Kid yelled.

Gravity yanked them back down. Canyon’s head rammed into her cheekbone. The vehicle fishtailed. Straightened. It pitched and bounced. Seconds stretched into long minutes as they huddled on the floorboard, sans flying bullets and panic.

“Nice work,” Squirt said. “It’s clear.”

Canyon eased up, pulling his weapon to the ready as he peered out the back window. He finally slumped onto the console seat, still watching their tail. Dani dragged herself onto the slick seat, brushing glass out from under her. A piece sliced her hand. She hissed.

Canyon frowned but then shoved his attention back to the road. Scowling. The knotted brows, the thinned lips—even with green and black paint covering his face, she could tell he was ticked.

“Squirt,” Frogman said through the coms. “Everyone in one piece?”

“Roger that. Thanks to some handy grenade throwing by Midas.”

“Hooyah,” Frogman said. “Let’s make tracks.”

They seemed to have accepted their success, moved on from the pursuit. Everyone but Canyon.

Dani reached across the seat and touched his hand.

He flinched but didn’t look.

“What’s wrong?”

His gaze dropped down and to the left, but not at her. “Nothing. Get some shut-eye.”

He was hiding something from her. She’d just have to trust that if Canyon thought she needed to know something, he’d tell her. Though she wanted to do anything but sleep, the lure of the suggestion pulled at her mind. She hadn’t gotten much last night, on her soft, thick mattress, worrying over this mission.

“You’re strong, Roark.”
How many times had she repeated his words over the last two weeks since he’d admonished her in the bathroom of his mother’s home? Nobody had believed in her the way he did. Well, maybe her mother. But she was gone. Her father didn’t have the first clue about her or her feelings. He was more in tune with his constituents and polls for his veep bid.

Why was love always messed up? Her mother and father had more of an arrangement than a marriage. Alexandra married prestige and money.

And yet, Dani clung to the hope that she could have a
real
marriage. Where she loved him and he loved her, they had common goals and dreams, willing to work through the good and the bad to come out stronger in the end. And the man who so perfectly fit the template of the type of man she wanted to marry sat right next to her.

Only … he wanted to trade her to his brother.

35,000 Feet Above North America

“I did not expect you to call so soon,
mi amigo.”
Humberto took a long drag on his cigar and allowed the thick odor and heady revelation to encircle his mind. “What of my package?”

Amazing the way so many had yielded to him since his dramatic takeover. He had one goal left now: dictatorship. With the arsenal sitting under his skyscraper, total power was guaranteed. In time.

“On its way.”

“So soon?” Another puff as he stared out the small framed window of the Lear. “I am not in the country.”

“That’s not my problem.”

Humberto chuckled. “Actually, it is. We had a deal.”

Silence gaped.

“You want your little problem taken care of, then mine must be taken care of
también.”
He smiled. He had this man wrapped so tightly around his fingers he couldn’t breathe without permission. “Remember, my friend, what will happen if you do not cooperate.”

“And remember,” the tone seethed with hatred, “what will happen if you don’t stop her.”

“You dare to threaten me? Without me, you are dead. Your career is dead. What of that pretty wife of yours?”

A quick intake of breath.

Humberto let his pulse even out. “I see we still understand each other.” He’d have to send the colonel to find her. Kill the others. “I will contact you.”

Miranda, Venezuela

“It’s screwed up.” When the others gawked at him, Canyon balled his fists. “Think about it. We got nailed as soon as we hit the ground. They were there waiting for us. Knew exactly where we’d insert. That’s not coincidence. No way.”

Legend shifted.

“Then first village contact. You’re in and out without a glitch. Soon as we’re all piled in, we’ve got demons breathing down our necks, trying to pick us off.” Sludge pumped through his veins. “This isn’t right.
Someone knows we’re here.”

“Nobody knows but the Old Man,” Max said.

“It’s no coincidence, and if we don’t sit up and get smart, someone’s going to get killed.”

“Hold up,” Max said. Even in the deluge, the guy’s eyes radiated a fierceness that Canyon had come to appreciate. “We’ve had a boatload of bad luck, but let’s hold off on tucking tail and running.”

“I won’t put her life in danger if I think it’s there.” Canyon pointed at the Hummer parked across the road, cradling a soundly sleeping Roark.

Max’s right eyebrow winged up.

Canyon swallowed. Scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t sound so pathetically sappy or stupid. “We’re charged with protecting her.” Yeah. That worked. “The Old Man said if anything happened to her, we’d answer to him.”

“Yeah.” The Kid frowned. “What’s with that anyway? Why does the Old Man care so much about this chick?”

“She’s his goddaughter.”

“Want to explain how you know that?” If Max ever looked like he was about to push Canyon’s nose through his skull, it was right now.

“Look, it doesn’t matter.” Cowboy tugged the bill of his ball cap down. “We’re less than two klicks from the facility. I say let’s check it out. If we get there, find something amiss … reckon we can figure something out then.”

The others seemed to consider the option.

Max leveled his gaze at Canyon. “We already talked. I’m holding you to your word.” To the others, he said, “We stick to the plan and let this play out.”

Molars grinding, Canyon blinked through the rain. “This is wrong.” He could feel it in his gut, slipping and skidding like the rain down his collar and back. “It’s all wrong. We can’t—”

“Grab the gear.”

Fury lit through him.

Max leaned in, chin down. “Wake her. Move out in ten.”

Canyon stood there, fists balled. Wanting—thirsting to pound some sense into someone. But it wouldn’t do any good. Six to one.
Walk away
. If he didn’t, he’d regret it. Without a word, Canyon slogged through the muck to the Hummer where Roark sat in the back. Not asleep but watching them.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her words thickened by a still-groggy weariness. “Where … where are we?”

“Less than two klicks out.”

As she straightened in the seat, her lips parted and her eyes widened.

Fear. If there were more light and her face weren’t streaked with camo paint, he wagered he’d find her skin pale. “We’re gearing up to head out.” Perched on the edge of the seat, he dangled his leg out, resting his boot on the running board. “It’s going to be okay.”

She looked at him. “You wouldn’t say that unless you were worried.”

He looked at the team. Max was determined, believed things were in order. He’d have to trust the leader. Trust the team.

What about the knot in your gut?
Relying on that feeling had gotten him in trouble before. Chesa … He squeezed off the line of memories.

“They want to go in … with the rain … the mud?” She leaned forward, peering into the storm-blackened sky. “It’s not going to let up. Isn’t it too risky?”

“We knew it was risky when we left Virginia. The rain just adds adventure.” He quirked a grin at her, hoping it worked.

Pensive eyes held his for several long seconds. Then her head swung slowly from side to side. “No,” she said quietly. “You don’t believe that.”

“What I believe is that I said I wasn’t going back without you.” He locked gazes with her. “I mean it.” Telling her that he thought they were being set up wouldn’t help. It was hard enough to focus on the mission with a sense of doom clogging every pore; he didn’t want her to bear that burden.