Lachlan gave the signal and they moved forward toward the beach. They’d entered to the north and the west of the compound the first time, but that beach was now heavily boobytrapped. This time, with the help of the mole, they were able to come in closer during a gap in patrols.
They crossed the beach, found cover among the trees, and quickly geared up before moving as a group towards the compound. Thermal cameras came in handy again and allowed them to dodge a patrol, their heat signatures like red ghosts passing on the other side of the trees.
Gina’s mouth was dry but her hands were steady as they reached the main house. This was where Porter kept his ‘livestock’ as he called his human slaves. He’d upped the security there too but there was a way to get around it. A very satisfying way that Gina was looking forward to.
As the watchdog team crept onto the wide veranda, sudden movement in the bushes caught her eyes. Son of a bitch—a guard in a ghillie suit had escaped the thermals. Gunfire erupted.
So much for our sneak attack.
“Elissa, we need lights out, now,” Lachlan shouted into his comm.
“On it, Boss,” she answered.
Gunfire blasted as The Repair Shop provided cover while they breached the front door. Gina, Lach, Walker, Jake, Camden, Nash, and Malcolm entered the house, guns blazing. True to form, Elissa’s voodoo worked and the house went dark.
“Don’t shoot!” A man shouted from somewhere inside. “Friendly.”
Their mole? Gina wasn’t sticking around to find out. She moved forward with Lach while Jake and Camden peeled off to handle the friendly. She pounded up the stairs and straight to Porter’s suite. Would he actually be there, or was he cowering in his own dungeon like a coward?
One way to find out.
Lachlan pushed Gina down as gunfire erupted. He returned fire, killing two guards. Nash and Malcolm had their backs. More guards died while others put up their hands in surrender. One even killed the man next to him, shouting that he was on their side.
Again, not Gina’s problem. She and Lach moved forward to the door, hugging the walls just in case someone inside decided to shoot through the door and hope for the best.
Then Malcolm was there, taking up a good portion of the hallway. Good thing—it took both him and Lachlan to breach the bedroom door.
Empty.
But they knew right where Porter’s panic room was. And, they knew the code.
Porter waited inside, preternaturally calm.
“So, you won,” he said, a sick smile on his face. And no wonder. He was sitting in a chair that looked wired to explode.
“Or maybe you didn’t,” he said.
“He’s handcuffed to it,” Malcolm said.
“And if you remove me or my heart stops, it’ll blow up.” Porter smiled at Gina. “Is that a problem?”
They all knew it was. The doors to the dungeons were biometric, opening only to Porter’s handprint.
“I’ve got this,” Lach said, dropping to his knees and examining the wires threading around the chair. Then he hissed through his teeth. “It’s on a fucking timer.”
Porter chuckled. “I know why you’re here, Gina. For my toys. They’ve been in there a while. It’s sealed pretty tight and I think I forgot to turn the ventilation system back on last time I visited. Air might have gotten a bit stale in the meantime.” He shrugged. “If that doesn’t get them, there’s a second bomb that’s in communication with this one. If this goes, it goes. I figure, I’m a dead man at this point, why not take them with me, like a pharaoh?”
“I just need his hand,” Gina said.
“I saw a machete downstairs,” Malcolm said.
“Get it.”
* * *
There were some screams that would haunt Gina her entire life. Screams from innocent victims who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And other screams that she herself pulled from not-so-innocent criminals.
Marcus Porter’s screams would not haunt her in the slightest.
