The compound came into view, its large cement walls unmistakable. They skirted east, away from the gate, to stay out of sight of the cameras. Roarke had gone over every morsel of intel they’d been able to gain. Before they scaled the walls, they’d disrupt the cameras.
Reaching the cement at the back of the fortress, Roarke placed his back against the cool stone.
“Mics in,” Viper said, as he and Striker leaned back next to him.
Roarke pulled his earbud from his pocket and pushed it into his ear canal. “Test,” he whispered.
The guys confirmed.
“Hit the scrambler,” Roarke said to Viper.
“Favorite part,” Viper said with a chuckle, as he reached for the device hooked to his belt.
The device would intercept internet connections and disrupt the camera feed. If Cameron’s security was on point, they’d catch it soon, but Roarke and his team would likely have enough time to get into the house before security came looking to see who or what was responsible.
“Move,” Roarke ordered.
He pulled his climbing hook from his belt and slung it on the top of the wall. Metal connected with stone with a sharp clank.
His team followed, and in seconds they scaled the ten-foot wall and dropped onto Cameron’s property. Shrubs and trees lined the yard along the wall, offering them cover. Roarke scanned the yard, ensuring they hadn’t been spotted. With the coast clear, he slipped out of the foliage. Silently, they moved in a line, running toward the house.
Roarke kept his back hunched and his rifle firm in his grip as he scoured the area. Laine had said her room was in the basement, and the nearest door to Laine was on the main level.
A window sitting about 70 percent above grade caught his eye, pulled him. But he couldn’t be sure the room was hers.
They approached the patio outside the window. Roarke held his fist in the air parallel to his shoulder, warning Striker and Viper to stop. He knelt, his pulse running against the side of his neck.
But it wasn’t fear making his heartbeat so damn loud—it was fucking anticipation. Satisfaction. Endorphins obtained only on dangerous missions.
He was right at home.
“Movement on your right.” Viper’s quiet words entered Roarke’s ear.
Without shifting his head, he moved his gaze a few inches east. Sure enough, a guard moved lazily around the side of the house. A gun was draped across his chest, and his face was lowered. He stared down at a device in his hand. Blue light illuminated his face.
“Mine,” Striker whispered.
Roarke didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Striker had the guard in his scope. The man moved across the patio, oblivious to them.
“On your go.” Striker’s impatience didn’t rattle him.
“Hold,” Roarke said, his voice barely audible. As much as he wanted to take out the guard immediately, they had to be as quiet as possible. Doing so in front of windows, even at this hour, could be detrimental.
When the guard reached the west corner of the house, Striker made an irritated sound. “Out of range in 3 ... 2 ...”
“Go.”
A soft whistle sounded. Half a second later, a gentle splat echoed through the night. The only other noise was the sound of the guard’s phone hitting the cement.
“Move in!” Roarke thundered.
They ran across the patio with Roarke leading. When he reached the dead guard, he swiped his gun and shoved it into his waistband.
The guard’s radio crackled and someone spoke in Arabic, addressing the man on the ground: Avram. Roarke inched closer to the side of the house and ascended the slope that stretched up to the main level.
“Cut the power,” he instructed Striker. No lights shone from inside, but they needed to keep it that way.
Following the patio stones, he reached a side door—this had to be the one Laine had mentioned. He delved into his front pocket and pulled out a lockpick set.
