When Jump turned eighteen, he headed out for the Navy. Training had been hell, but he’d survived. All throughout training he knew he was in the middle of training and that it would eventually end. He’d gone through BUDs with the same knowledge that the training would eventually end. Everything they’d put him through had been worth it.
What these kids were going through was torture. They didn’t know if or when their torture would end. He was sure they’d tried to escape, but seeing their teacher executed in front of them had to have been traumatic.
He hoped when they went in to rescue them, the kids would stay down. Sometimes the people they went in to rescue freaked out when they started firing. Some of them froze, but more often than not, they dropped to the ground in fear. The hostage takers were usually high on khat or whatever they could get their hands on. The khat meant a few of the hostage takers might be awake when they move into the camp.
They waited about another thirty minutes then Kevlar gave the command to move out. Jump crept slowly forward, moving silently closer to the area where the kids and their captors were bedded down.
The hair on the back of his neck started to rise, and he paused. “Anything on my six?” he whispered into the coms.
“You’re clear,” T replied.
Something felt off. He moved forward, keeping his head on a swivel, trying to figure out what was off. This mission was all shades of screwed up, but they had to get these kids to safety.
They were about twenty meters from the group when one of the captors sat up and began shooting into the air. Jump fired, and the guy slumped over.
The noise had woken everyone up. Why the idiot started shooting into the air was anyone’s guess. Maybe he was dreaming, or possibly he was just high and an asshole. He wasdead now, and the rest of the captors were slowly becoming aware that one of their guys had just died.
They were up with their rifles in hand. That was enough for his team to take them out. There were four captors still alive, but they didn’t last long.
Jump moved closer and saw that the kids were moving. He didn’t want any of them to run off, and he hoped the crazy things that happened would be enough to keep them in place.
He and his team had the benefit of night vision goggles, but the boys were in the dark, probably scared out of their wits.
Kevlar gave the okay for the helicopters to come in for the rescue. They were at the end of the mission, which could be the most dangerous time for a mission like this.
He was close enough to the kids to see they were wide-eyed and dazed. One of the boys started shrieking. Jump moved to him, getting close.
“I’m with the US Navy, here to rescue you. You are safe.”
The kid jerked back, then shut his trap. The last thing they needed was some guy out in the bush thinking it was time to shoot them. They had T, Cy, Flash, and Smiley watching out, but someone could be way out there, hiding behind vegetation. It was best if they could keep these kids quiet and get out of here without any more incidents.
Foster moved to the kid with the broken arm. He splinted the arm while the rest of them gathered the weapons and ammunition. Before leaving Bang would attach some C4 and explode the lot. They didn’t like leaving weapons behind for others to use.
The helicopters would be there in about five minutes, and they were just waiting to explode the weapons when Cy gave an alert. They had a group of six hostiles moving in fast. This could easily go to hell, and their cover was minimal at best.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Grayson knew he had to act soon. The police were closing in on him. If he didn’t grab Blakely and take her away from here, he might end up in prison.
The police had found the body of a woman he’d slept with. It wasn’t his fault. She’d forced him to act when she started screaming. Now they were gathering evidence, and he knew where that evidence would point.
He shouldn’t have attacked that guy at the apartment. He’d just been so angry. Why would Blakely want that asshole when she could be with him, living in the wilderness, eating fresh food every night?
This city was fake. He hated the food, the women, the people. They were all fake and the desire to bring it all down boiled under the surface, threatening to come out.
The fire had been cleansing. Maybe he would find another place to light up. No! He had to get Blakely first.
He’d taken that woman’s money and credit card. Luckily the time he used the card he’d been wearing a ball cap so the image the police were distributing of him wasn’t great. No one could see his face, but it was only a matter of time.
When he’d taken the card, he hadn’t really thought about the police being able to track his purchases. It wasn’t fair that the police had that information. The USA was supposed to be free, and having the cops watch everything was the opposite of freedom.
The lack of freedom he experienced was almost enough to make him want to call one of those fancy-ass news stations and set them straight. They shouldn’t be reporting on murders and assaults, they should concentrate on the ways the government was ruining his right to make purchases without fear of being tracked.
At least the police weren’t competent enough to find him. They had no clue where he was or what kind of vehicle he was in.
Soon, he would have Blakely and be able to knock some sense into her. She needed to be taught lessons, and he was the one to do it.
He went back to the apartment to watch for her, but she never showed. He honestly had no clue where she was. Finding her was his top priority. No question, he would make her pay for this level of insolence.
