Page 72 of Wicked Suspicion

Ramirez cut her off. “It is not. Today is the third day. He had all day Wednesday. It counts as a day.” He took another step and Nyx had nowhere to go. Her back was at the bamboo wall. He pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “My protection of you lasts until sundown. I have plans for you.”

He released her and stepped away, but Nyx couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

Case was in a boat with Baggs and Ski. Ski had control of the tiller arm of the outboard motor, guiding them to the rebel encampment. The river always had traffic. Many villages had no road access, and it was either hike through the rainforest or use the waterways. The busyness worked to their advantage. Mostly.

Earlier, two other boats with five teammates split between them had headed out. The timing allowed them to get into position. Of the twelve men on his team, eight were along for this trip. The other four were undercover, and the captain opted not to pull them.

It should be fine. They weren’t trying to take down the rebels, just get Nyx out.

Two teammates were assigned to go underwater and disable the enemy boats and Case didn’t envy them that job. Visibility in the river was poor with lots of mud and silt. There were branches from downed trees to contend with, too.

He still didn’t like this plan.

If it had been up to him, Case would have had the team slip in at night, find Nyx, and slip back out again. Simple. And then BD had started listing the issues with it, including the fact that the rebels were likely moving her around the camp and they would have no idea which hut she was being kept in, and checking each one was too risky.

This idea was risky, too. Case was supposed to pretend he had a sample of the new rifle and get Ramirez to bring Nyx to the docks for an exchange. He tried to relax his hands. They’d knotted up into fists.

They were going in on Friday, a day earlier than originally planned. He didn’t know if he was persuasive or if the Big Dog just got sick of listening to him, but a twenty-four-hour buffer made him feel better.

The fishing boat looked old and rode low in the water, but the motor Ski was running at the aft end had power. They could get out in a hurry if they needed to. Baggs had the bow, and Case sat in the middle with a weapons crate beside him. It held the M4, and if Ramirez checked it out before they could find Nyx, there was going to be trouble.

They were prepared for that, wearing light vests under their clothing. It wouldn’t stop high-velocity rifle cartridges, but they were betting Ramirez had given orders to use pistols, not rifles. Automatic weapon fire would call attention to them, and as the colonel had complained, he’d already abandoned two camps.

They passed another small village. The huts were up on stilts, the roofs were rusting metal, and the walls were bamboo. One of the bigger homes had laundry on a line underneath the porch roof. The woman hanging it out waved as they went past and Baggs waved back. Case couldn’t manage the social nicety. Nyx had to be okay. Had to be.

Leaving her behind had been hard. He was putting his faith in Ramirez’s word, a man who’d already proven himself to be among the worst motherfucking assholes on Earth. There’d been no other choice. And nothing he could do about it days later.

He shook off the thoughts and worked on focusing on now.

The rebel encampment hid in plain site by presenting the view of a typical village from the river. It was only once a person got away from the dock that they’d notice there were no women, children, or elders present. There were trees behind the riverfront huts that prevented anyone from seeing past them.

No one who showed up unannounced was getting beyond the dock area, not with the guards hanging around there.

Damn, he hoped Oz was right. That Nyx knew he was coming for her no matter what kind of hell he needed to wade through to reach her.

He needed to stop worrying about her. He needed to get his head on straight because the success of this rescue depended on him bluffing Ramirez about the weapons.

Case didn’t need Baggs’ signal to know they were getting close. It was more than a visual recognition. He could feel it in his bones. Using his own hand gestures, he indicated it was coming up on their left.

Ski guided them to the dock, and as soon as possible, Case jumped out. The guards pointed their SCARs at him immediately. The plan was that Ski would stay on the boat, motor idling for a quick getaway. Baggs got out and stood beside him.

“Colonel Ramirez didn’t say you could bring friends with you,” one of his men said in Spanish.

“He didn’t say I couldn’t.” Case looked around. “Where’s the colonel?” He didn’t give a shit about Ramirez. He wanted to know where Nyx was.

The man who’d spoken to him ordered another to inform Ramirez that Case had arrived. He took a step forward, hoping to get off the dock, but the guy in charge wasn’t having it. There were so many weapons pointed at him, it was like something out of Hollywood.

Case held out his hands, the gesture conciliatory. “Calm down, dude. I was eager to see the colonel, that’s all.”

More like he was testing the limits and discovering they were about what he’d expected. They weren’t going to be allowed off this dock. Not unless Ramirez permitted it.

The colonel kept them waiting. Not long, but long enough to send a message about who held the power. He strolled toward the dock, a contingent of additional men surrounding him. He stopped far enough away that Case would never reach him if he tried to attack. Not that he was planning to do any such thing, but Ramirez thought he might.

“You have my weapons?”

Case shrugged. “I brought a crate as a gesture of good faith. We’ll negotiate about the rest of the shipment.”

The colonel signaled one of his men, but Case shifted, blocking his path.

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