“Let’s go,” Spike orders, drawing his gun. “Time’s up.”
***
We watch in silence as wave one moves.
Four Shadows glide through the darkness like they’re made of it…one drag, one chokehold, one muffled thud at a time. No gunfire. No shouting. No alarms.
The waves are small…but our backup is not. They’re just waiting slightly behind us in case they’re needed.
When the signal comes…two short flashes…wave two sweeps in behind them.
Bones and Maverick lead their team with that lethal, quiet confidence that makes grown men piss themselves. Tents open like unzipped body bags, and our soldiers either come out with smoking muzzles… or with bound, bleeding prisoners dragged by their collars.
“Wave two out,” Maverick says over the walkie. “All clear for entry.”
Finally.
I cock my gun and head straight for the porch, adrenaline bursting through every vein.
“Wait,” Bones snaps, grabbing my cut. “Possible trip wires. One of my men found three landmines around the house.”
“Fuck,” Tank mutters. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Spike says. “Gather the men. Mark every mine you find. Crusher…you’re up, brother.”
Crusher nods, already moving. He’s no bomb expert…but he knows a thing or two to keep us from getting killed. He kneels. Checks under the porch. The windows. Runs his fingers under, above, and along the doorframe.
“I think we’re clear,” he says. “But don’t go stomping around like idiots. No clue what traps they rigged inside.”
I get it. I do.
But my man has been missing for seven hours. Seven hours of terror I can feel like an ache under my ribs.
I’m done waiting.
“Dammit, Skip,” Spike growls as I shove the door open and step inside. “Crusher, check every doorway near the floor. You…stay put.”
I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. I just stare into the dark, waiting for Crusher’s verdict.
“Clear!” he calls back. “Safe to move. Dark as hell though…couldn’t see dick beyond my light.”
That’s all I need.
I’m moving before Spike can start another lecture, flashlight in my left hand, gun in my right.
Spike and Tank head upstairs. I sweep the first floor with Crusher and Foster.
Two minutes later, we gather in the kitchen…right over the heat signature.
“It’s either above us or below us,” Foster says. “And since it’s not above…”
“A basement,” I finish. “Find the damn door.”
I tear the place apart, not caring about alerting anyone to our presence. I shove the table.
Drag the fridge. Nothing.
“Over here,” Spike says, shining his light on the small coat closet near the front door. “Seems odd to have a padlock on the coat closet door, don’t you think?”
