“Be a hell of a time for him to start.”
“Brett—”
“One minute.” Cannon signaled to the lone road in. “We’ve got movement. Everyone, mission is a go.”
Colt focused straight ahead. Now, wasn’t the time to be thinking about all the ways this op could turn ugly. He needed to carry his weight. Make sure this part of the plan was executed properly. Trust that Ellis knew McCormick as well as she claimed. That she wasn’t walking into an ambush. That this wasn’t the last time he’d ever see her alive.
Lights straight ahead, slicing through the darkness, mapping out the vehicle’s path. It was two hours before sunrise. Overcast. Nothing to lessen the shadows without thermal or IR.
The perfect makings for that ambush.
They waited until the Suburban came to a full stop, engine still idling. The driver flashed the high beams three times. Cannon answered in kind, keeping the headlights aimed at the other vehicle—spotlighting the whole transfer site.
Cannon looked back. “Ready?”
Go time…
Ellis nodded then opened the door. Stepping onto the cracked pavement. Colt held his position behind the passenger door, gun drawn. Aimed at the asshole who got out of the back.
Roger McCormick.
Dressed in black pants, a black tee, with matching black shirt, he looked every inch the commando his file claimed. He didn’t make a move, just stood there. Arms by his sides, gaze fixed on Ellis.
Ellis moved in beside Colt, stopping then waiting. Another man got out of the front right door wearing the same black outfit. Big. Definitely former-Special Forces—the way he moved. His obvious situational awareness. SOG asshole, for sure. He headed to the rear, yanking a woman out of the back. She had a pillowcase over her head—hands bound in front.
Cannon motioned to her with his gun. “Remove the sack and untie her.”
The big bruiser holding her looked over at his boss. McCormick nodded. The guy complied, removing the hood and slicing through the restraints, then strong-arming her around to the front of the vehicle. Ellis inhaled once then settled.
It was Kameron. No doubt. Looked as if she’d kept fighting while she’d been held. Darker shadows along her forehead—down her arm where her shirt was ripped. What Colt assumed were bruises. No obvious blood, but he couldn’t be sure.
McCormick motioned toward the Jeep. The other man gave Kameron a shove—got her stumbling toward them. Ellis took a step, stopped then turned, claiming Colt’s mouth in a searing kiss before stepping back.
She touched her lips, staring for one more heartbeat, then moved, slowly heading toward Kameron. The other woman shook her head, pleading to Ellis, but she kept walking. No hesitation. No fear.
And it scared the shit out of Colt. Standing there. Watching her stop in front of McCormick. She handed the man the motherboard and the thumb drive, holding her arms out when McCormick’s muscle moved in behind her. He patted her down then waved some kind of wand along her clothes.
McCormick made some signal with his hand and the other guy ripped Ellis’ jacket off—tossed it down. There was a moment of his hand grabbing her arm, then she was falling against him. Limp. All of them jumping into the vehicle...racing backwards…
Gone. Out of sight. There one moment, nothing but that empty horizon the next. Taking Colt’s life with them.
Cannon was back on the com. “Okay, team, we’re through the looking glass. Ice, get up here. Kam needs a freaking medic. Six, you’re with Colt. We’ll get ready to move. Keep a safe distance back. Jericho, I’m on my way to your twenty. Be there in sixty. I want a visual on that vehicle until it stops. Tell Art to mobilize the Marshal SOG team. I want them ready to be in position sixty seconds after that bastard McCormick gets to his location.”
Cannon’s hand on Colt’s shoulder. “Looks like they checked for the tracker, just like Ellis said. Left it behind.”
“Let’s just hope the other works. That McCormick doesn’t check, again, in twenty minutes. Because if he does…”
She was dead. If she wasn’t already.
“We’re not going to let him hurt her.” Cannon nodded as Ice appeared, bag in hand. “Thirty seconds. Then, we roll.”
Colt nodded. He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t open his damn mouth because he knew he’d start shouting and wouldn’t stop. This was wrong. He felt it. He never should have agreed. Stood there and watched while she was drugged—carted away. He knew it was all part of the plan. That she’d anticipated McCormick would take that route. In fact, Ellis had nailed exactly how the entire transfer would go down. Not a damn bullet fired.
But Colt couldn’t shake the feeling they weren’t done, yet. That McCormick had a contingency plan they hadn’t considered. That all it would take was one unknown delta tossed into the mix, and the entire op would blow up in their faces.
And Colt would lose Ellis.
Six appeared beside him and slapped him on the shoulder. “Get your head out of your ass and your ass in the damn Jeep. Ellis is counting on us.”
