He pulled his Sig. “Better fucking believe I’m ready.”
“It looks like Sylvie’s been shot while attempting an escape.”
“Fuck!” Alex roared. It felt like his chest had been ripped open.
“She’s flung over one man’s shoulder and they’re taking her inside.” Kyle’s fingers flew. “I’m telling your man to stay put until we get there. When we see his truck, we pull over and head in on foot.”
“Copy,” Gina said.
Alex shook his head. “Too slow, Pup.”
“It’s Sylvie’s only hope, Chief, you know that. We’ve gotta go in quiet or they’ll just fucking kill her.”
If she’s even still alive. Alex swallowed hard. No time to dwell on the unknowns. Sylvie had to be alive, and she’d be in his arms within the hour.
All his training came back to him and he went to that silent, still place inside that readied him for action. This would be a mission no different from any of the other hostage rescues he’d been a part of during his time as a SEAL.
When they saw Lion’s truck, they parked and killed the engines. Alex unloaded Chewie. The dog proved his excellent training by remaining silent and alert to Alex’s every command. Kyle handed out comms, and using Lion’s recon, they quickly went over a plan to surround the shack. Alex would be on the team that breached the shack.
Lion had said there were no guards posted outside and he saw no evidence of hidden tangoes watching. Apparently, Del Rio felt safe enough up here not to post any. But anyone could look out of the windows to see a team of former Special Forces guys strolling up the lane loaded for bear, with a very eager police dog who might just eat whoever hurt his mama. So, they started toward their target, moving through the trees to avoid detection.
As they got closer, Alex spotted a brown El Camino blocking Sylvie’s Mustang from view. At first he could only see the top, cherry red paint peeking from behind the other car. As they got closer, he saw that the Mustang must have backed into the car, denting the back end. He felt sick on Sylvie’s behalf.
When he saw the cracked windshield and the bullet hole, rage overpowered him. A hand landed on his shoulder—Wolf’s way of telling him to reel it back in, get himself under control. But all Alex could see was red as his pulse pounded in his ears like a tidal roar. If the bullet so much as grazed her throat it could have opened her carotid artery.
Red, red, red. So much red. The Mustang, her blood, his fury.
A breeze picked up, blowing toward them, and that’s when Chewie caught the scent of Sylvie’s blood. His lip curled back as he whined and flattened his ears, then looked up at Alex.
Chewie’s grief-filled eyes destroyed Alex’s last bit of control.
Before he realized it, he was sprinting ahead with Chewie, heedless of his teammates’ calls to stand down. Man and dog bounded up the porch steps, Alex leading with his shoulder, his Sig drawn, Chewie slowing only to let Alex break down the barrier standing between them and the woman they loved.
The door crashed open onto a scene straight out of hell. Sylvie slumped in a chair in the middle of the room. Purple, bruised flesh around her eye. Her fresh blood staining her shirt.
So much red.
Five men were in the room watching her. Two were sitting on a couch; one man was in the middle of passing a lighter and pipe made from a lightbulb to his friend. Two others were standing on either side of Sylvie.
But Alex’s vision narrowed down to the fifth man.
Del Rio standing over her, fist pulled back and ready to strike again. He looked up in time to see Alex and Chewie barreling straight at him. His eyes widened in terror.
Chewie leaped for Del Rio’s throat, just beating Alex, who sent his fist straight into Del Rio’s gut. As he hit the floor, Del Rio screamed and tried to protect his throat from the snarling dog’s vicious teeth.
The men flanking Sylvie pulled their guns as the rest of the team stormed into the shack.
“Chewie, down!” Alex shouted.
The dog tore himself away from Del Rio and dropped to his belly. Alex had just enough time to grab Sylvie. He threw his body over both hers and Chewie’s to protect them from the bullets flying over them.
Del Rio got up and scuttled backward on his ass while trying to pull his gun from his waistband. He pointed it straight at Sylvie but never got the chance to shoot. Alex fired. The bullet met Del Rio’s forehead and he fell backward.
Almost as soon as it started, the fight was over. Alex estimated that maybe eight seconds had passed between the time he breached the shack and his team took down the last of the men. Eight seconds of eternity.
“Sylvie? Baby, can you hear me?” No response.
Alex lifted himself off her and unbuttoned her shirt. He pulled it back to reveal the bullet wound. She’d been shot in the shoulder, thank God, and not in the neck or heart, but she’d lost a lot of blood. As he pressed against the seeping hole in her shoulder, he looked down into her pale face and stroked her cheek as gently as he could. Chewie wiggled closer and licked her forehead.
