The man glared up at him but nodded that he understood. Gunnar had no doubt he would struggle and attempt to escape. He ensured the sentry was secured before they moved onward, keeping their eyes peeled for anyone else who might be awake at stupid o’clock in the morning.
“Grizzly, Zipper. I just got another message to the phone.” Remi didn’t need to explain whose phone. There was only one phone it could be. “It says. JB is okay, not hurt. But the man who has her is gunning for you.”
No shit, sherlock!
“Zipper, Grizzly. I don’t suppose that message said what house she’s in?”
“That’s a negative.”
Of course, it fucking is, why did I hope for anything different?
While he was thrilled to know that Jorja was okay—or at least that was what they were telling them in the message—not knowing which building she was in meant they’d have to search them all.
He gave the signal for them to stack up outside the first house, but narrowed his eyes when he heard something from the side of the building.
“Psst. Hey, over here.” The voice was low, and definitely American. “Grizzly, over here, man.”
Gunnar immediately swung his weapon toward the voice. This asshole knew his name. That put him in the wrong camp as far as Gunnar was concerned. With Colt covering him, he moved toward the voice.
“She’s in the bottom building.”
“Who the hell is that?” Remi clearly picked up on the noise over comms.
Keeping his voice as low as possible, Gunnar replied, “No clue.” As he moved around the corner of the building, he was expecting a punch in the face or a bullet. What he was not expecting was to recognize the man in front of him. “What—” He lowered his voice. “Michaels, what the fuck are you doing here?”
The man he recognized as Sam Michaels stepped back, holding his hands up, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “I didn’t know this was the job,” he whispered. “I thought I was gonna be security for a tourist.” He kept his eyes trained on Gunnar’s hands. “Grizz, I swear I didn’t know until the bad guy got off the plane with Jorja Buchanan.”
“Got him,” Remi said in his ear. “What he’s saying tracks. He commented on a post in a Facebook group last week offering his services as a guide, when guess who asked?”
“I don’t know, Zipper, you tell me?”
“Brant’s father.”
Michaels slowly lowered his hands, and the muzzle of Colt’s weapon landed on Gunnar’s shoulder. He raised them again. “I swear it was too late by the time I figured out what was going on. I was going to walk away until I realized she was one of your family. I’d have walked if it wasn’t for that.”
“And left a kidnapped American woman to fend for herself?”
What a fucking dickcunt.
“No!” Michaels insisted. “I needed to have backup before…”
“How many men does he have?”
“Just him.”
“You’re telling me a SEAL couldn’t take out one old man?” Gunnar snorted. “Because if not, you never deserved a pin in the first place.”
“Fuck you, Grizzly. He has rigged the room she’s in. If I kill him, he pushes the switch, and she dies. I didn’t figure you’d want that happening.”
Colt lowered his weapon and muttered in Gunnar’s ear, “That sounds like it could be a problem for getting her out of there.”
Gunnar nodded. It would be a problem. They needed a different plan. “Move.” He gestured toward the back of the house. “We need backup plan number ten.”
“Roger that.” Michaels turned and led the way. “I know a place.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Where the hell am I?
