“You, too.” Callie walked out of the bedroom.
* * *
Skye rode with Trace, who parked the Yukon in a secluded spot the drone had discovered less than a quarter mile from the fence line, an easy extraction point after they’d completed their mission.
Edge parked the Nissan farther away from the compound on the dirt road they had used before, a secondary vehicle in case things turned to worms and they needed another way out.
With luck, the hole they’d cut in the fence hadn’t been found. While he and Skye accessed the compound, Trace would be covering them from a position on the hillside. The MK22 sniper rifle had an effective firing range of 1,600 yards, far more than they needed, and Trace was a crack shot.
Edge hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but they were up against seasoned men, some undoubtedly former military. Others looked like gangbangers, ex-cons, or hardened street fighters. They were armed, and they were dangerous.
He rendezvoused with Skye and Trace at the Yukon, where they put on their tactical vests, grease-painted their faces, and tested their comms, the earbuds each of them were wearing.
“Any questions before we go in?” Edge asked, strapping his Ka-Bar knife to his thigh.
Trace and Skye both shook their heads. They were professionals. The plan was burned into their brains.
All of them were dressed head-to-foot in black, including knit caps and tactical vests, and armed to the teeth—Edge with his Beretta and an S&W .45, Skye with her Glock and a Browning .40 cal., Trace with the MK22 and his Nighthawk nine mil.
“All right, you know what to do,” Edge said. “Let’s get this done.”
Carrying the assembled rifle, Trace split off and headed up the hill. Edge gave him time to reach the spot on the GPS where he would set up his sniper hide; then Edge and Skye started across the mostly open terrain toward the fence.
Moving through the dry grass from shrub to shrub, tree to tree, they reached the shallow ravine they had used before and followed it as far as they could.
Edge checked his watch and motioned to Skye, who sank down in the grass beside him. Using his night-vision binoculars, he scanned the compound.
The guards appeared right on schedule for their rendezvous at the corner where the fence lines met. They pulled out bottles of water and drank. None of them smoked, he had noticed, probably on Henson’s orders. One of them laughed at something the other man said, then they turned and began their long trek back the way they’d come.
Edge motioned Skye forward. Keeping low as he moved through the grass, he reached the fence, lifted away the cut-out portion hidden behind the shrub, and ducked inside. Skye followed. Trace would be watching their progress through his Nightforce 7-35x scope, a thought that gave Edge the warm-and-fuzzies.
At least they wouldn’t be completely on their own.
Moving quietly, they penetrated farther into the compound, heading for Callie’s cottage. Edge said a silent prayer the girl would be glad to see her sister, willing and ready to leave. If not, things could go south in a hurry.
They reached the toolsheds next to the vegetable garden, and Edge marked the spot on his GPS as a place for the sheriff to look for Sarah’s body. He noticed Skye’s gaze running over the ground near the sheds. Her eyes came to his, and a flash of something moved between them.
Resolve, he thought. Determination that justice be done.
They made their way farther in, passing the Quonset-style barn where the horses were stabled. Edge spotted a big man in camos off to his right, motioned to Skye, and both of them eased back into the shadows.
As soon as the guy disappeared around the back of the building, they started toward the second barn, where the heavy equipment was stored.Right on schedule so far.Everything was going smoothly.Too smoothly, Edge thought, tension building as he waited for the unexpected turn that seemed to come with every mission.
Then the still night air erupted with a woman’s high-pitched scream.
Skye’s heart jerked.
“Go . . .” At Edge’s soft command, she regained her focus, but her insides were shaking. Keeping low, she eased through the darkness toward the heavy equipment barn and flattened herself against the cold steel wall. The sound of a struggle and a flash of movement caught her eye. The clouds parted for a moment, and she saw a women fighting with two big men. Long blond hair gleamed in the moonlight before the clouds knitted together and darkness returned.
Callie!
One of the men was a tall, thick-chested, heavily bearded blond man who looked like a Viking. The other had shoulder-length black hair and a patch over one eye. Skye glanced around for Edge but didn’t see him. He was circling, moving into position on the other side of the men.
The one-eyed man grinned up at the bearded giant. “Looks like you bride is on de run, Klaus.” His accent was Spanish. He looked like he ate nails for breakfast.
The Viking’s mouth curved in a brutal smile in the middle of his beard. “You’re right, Vasquez. Guess I’ll have to start the honeymoon early.” He squeezed Callie’s upper arm so hard she winced. “Right, sweetheart?”
Callie struggled uselessly. “Get away from me!”
