Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Joel.”
I glanced back at the others. Those who were part of the combat units had gathered at the hood of one of the SUVs, where Elliott was ready to, presumably, talk entry strategy.
I walked over there, grabbing a marker from one of my pockets, and jotted down the digits on my hand. Humidity, elevation, wind speed.
“Bless Google Street View—it ain’t much, but it’s better than nothing.” Elliott pushed back the screen on the laptop so everyone could get a look. Then he placed a second laptop next to the first and pulled up the satellite images we had to work with. “As you can see, the main house of the vineyard forms an L with the warehouse, so our best way to get in is to walk around and approach from the front. I suggest Ryan and Joel each take a side. Joel, you’ll round the corner at the warehouse, and Ryan, you get the corner of the main house.”
I nodded pensively and studied the images. The front of the property was an open courtyard-type of area, and unless anything had changed since the images were taken, not much would obstruct our view. Some benches, a well, an old tractor to the side, and we could assume all the cars they’d arrived in. Cars that were good to take cover behind.
The main house was a one-story ranch, hacienda-style. The warehouse had more height to it. It wasn’t built to house hostages unless they had cages—and I fucking hated thinking about that word—secured inside. The outer walls of the warehouse needed to be replaced. The metal sheets were damaged to the point that the rust was visible on crappy images off the internet.
“The rescue unit—you’ll wait down the slope for our signal,” Elliott continued. “And before then, keep talking to a minimum because we’ll all be on the same frequency.”
“Mercier and I spoke in the car,” Darius said. “We wanna do more. Let us cover the back of the property—we’ll shoot first and ask questions later, and we’ll be the barrier between the house and Gray and Shay.”
“That’s up to you,” Elliott replied. “You both have children to go home to.”
“And we will,” Darius answered firmly.
Mercier inclined his head, agreeing.
“Fair enough. Darius and Mercier will cover the back.” Elliott zoomed in on the satellite image that showed the property from above. “Crew, you can team up with Ryan. No advancing past the corner until I say so, at which point Ryan will cover Crew. I’ll do the same with Joel.” He lifted his stare to me. “You cover me when I advance.”
“Roger. But I’ll join you when I can do more good in combat than with my rifle.” I wasn’t being left behind for a fucking minute.
“Naturally, and that will be River and Reese’s cue as well,” he said. “River, you’re with Ryan and Crew. Reese, you’re with Joel and me. Javier—” He turned to Ortega. “The main house has a terrace facing east from the front. I want you to stay there and basically kill anyone who tries to make a run for it.”
“My pleasure,” Ortega answered quietly.
“I’ll take that flank so I can be close if he needs backup,” Mercier added.
It was a plan.
Gray Quinn
While the others did a final run-through of our plans and began strapping on weapons, I nodded for Shay to follow me.
Let this be our last night in Europe. I couldn’t wait to go home. After more than three weeks, FaceTiming with the kids just didn’t cut it anymore, no matter how much fun I knew they were having with Darius’s parents and my own. Not to mention aunts, uncles, and cousins.
I opened the back of our car and grabbed the two backpacks I’d prepared earlier.
“You’re good with a handgun, right?” I placed the backpacks at my feet and reached for the case with sidearms.
“I’m decent,” Shay said. “I’ve gone to the range quite a bit with Reese.”
That was great. “Hopefully, we won’t have to use them, but you never know.” I opened the case and handed him a gun and a holster he could strap to his belt—or his vest, like I preferred. “It’s already loaded. You just aim and shoot.”
“Thanks. I guess you’re used to this by now.”
I wouldn’t go that far, but I had a few operations behind me at this point. “Aside from the rescue op to get Crew out of Belize last year, Dare and I stick to SAR missions these days.” I grinned faintly and tucked my own gun into the holster at the front of my chest. “But we stay prepared, ’cause you never know.”
He nodded slowly and looked down at the gun in his hands.
His mind had to be racing. I’d been where he was now. It was a painful fucking hell.
A few years ago when I’d been kidnapped by a human trafficking organization, it hadn’t taken long for me to decide I’d never get out alive. For three months, they’d held me in cages, abused me, waterboarded me, given me one meal a day, and…I’d stopped feeling like a person. And that’d happened fairly quickly. A few weeks in, when they’d stopped talking to me, when my name no longer existed, when I was shoved into another windowless van…