“You still in South America?”
“Yeah,” Patch said.
“I need an extraction, not far from where you’re at.”
“For who?”
“Savvy.”
“Can you repeat that?” Patch took the phone pressed to his ear, glanced at it, blinked twice, then pressed it back to theside of his face. His heart lurched to the center of his throat, which dried up like a prune. He waved to the bartender and mouthedcheck, please—even though he’d rather have a double shot of whiskey. Hell, the whole bottle. He glanced at Booker and pointed toward the parking lot.
Booker nodded.
“Savvy?” he asked, more to himself.
“Yeah.” McGuire’s voice was clipped, strained. “She’s alive. She’s off comms. I’m sending you her last known coordinates.”
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Does she know it’s me coming?”
“No. Should that matter? Did something happen I don’t know about? I swear to God, Patch, if?—”
“I haven’t had any real contact with your sister in five years—except hearing her voice when she made us ghosts in the Bayou or when she helped with Riven. Nothing’s changed.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you for… for… hell, I have no idea. But you spent years with my sister in a relationship, and then all of a sudden, it was over. Just like that. As if nothing ever happened and you brushed me off, telling me nothing.”
“Jesus, man. This isn’t the time or place. Besides, there wasn’t anything to tell.” And that was… basically true. The time he and Savvy spent together was wild, reckless, and the best time of his life. But she’d crawled under his skin and refused to leave. Their relationship wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t easy. They spent more time trying to figure out how to be in the same country than actually in each other’s arms. When the op orders came down, they didn’t say goodbye. They just left.
And one day, that’s how their relationship ended. Well, it was a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but sometimes that’s how it felt. Their jobs always got in the way and neither one of them would ever give it up. He hadn’t dared to ask her to change because doing so would mean changing the very fabric of whoshe was… and he’d loved every inch of Savvy. So, he’d walked away. He’d never looked back. But he’d never forgotten, either.
“Just bring my sister back in one piece,” McGuire said. “And don’t fucking touch her.”
“I might have to help her onto the heli—” Before he could finish the statement, his good buddy hung up. He tossed a few bills on the table and headed for the door.
“That sounded interesting,” Booker said.
“Wait until you meet the chick we’re going to extract.”
CHAPTER 2
SOUTH AMERICA – JUNGLE OUTSKIRTS
The jungle openedbeneath the chopper like a scar, a narrow clearing cut into dense green. Fog clung to the trees in low, ghostly drifts. Morning hadn't fully broken, but the horizon bled light in streaks of dull orange and gray.
Patch crouched at the open cabin door, boots braced, rifle across his chest, every nerve locked on.
"Two minutes," Booker called from the cockpit, voice calm through the comms. "You see her?"
“Not yet.” Patch scanned the edge of the clearing, searching the tree line for any sign of movement, shadow, or something human. This was the location and time McGuire had given. He’d confirmed that Savvy had received the same intel and would be there. So, where the hell was she? Patch scanned the area again. He panned his sight… slowly… left to right… and back again.
A flicker. Low and fast. A figure bursting from the underbrush. Mud-streaked. Light on her feet but limping slightly.
His chest slammed tight.
Savvy.
She looked the same and nothing like he’d remembered. Same fire in her stride, same determination in her posture. But she was thinner. Dirt-smeared. Raw.
She ran toward the LZ without hesitation, gun gripped in her hand.
