Page 29 of Hazard

Anna nodded, her eyes shrewd, leaning in close and lowering her own voice. “Yeah, they aren’t happy about it, but the boys do their thing, and they do it well, messing up a lot of plans for the people they’re hunting.” She studied Leigh’s face. “Sorry about the shiner. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” She looked away, then down at her hands. “What you said really hit home, and I kind of lost it a bit. I was in charge, and I did blow it.”

“Oh, Anna. You’re not alone in this. We all fell for the intel. We’re all to blame, especially me. They targeted me.”

“What?”

“They had a picture of me. All this was to get to me. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? This isn’t your fault either.”

“Maybe. Tell that to my overwhelming guilt.”

Anna squeezed her arm.

“I’m sorry about your eye, too,” Leigh said with a wry smile.

Anna winced, then smiled softly. “You can fight as well as your mouth works, but I think you could benefit from some pointers.”

Leigh chuckled softly, starting to really like Anna. “We were trying to stay alive, so we don’t have to talk about our black eyes.”

“What happens in the jungle, stays in the jungle?”

“Something like that.”

“Break’s over,” Conde said, and it was more slogging through air so still, the humidity and heat increasing as it slipped into late morning. She heard voices, smelled and saw the remnants of occupation before they reached a makeshift camp. Four tents in a neat rectangle with a small cookfire in the middle. The smell of hot eggs and bacon made her mouth water and her stomach rumble painfully.

They were led inside the tent and deposited. Shortly afterward, a man she didn’t recognize brought in two plates. Anna and Leigh dug in.

With her stomach full, she dozed lightly until Marco entered with two guards. They marched in and grabbed Anna, dragging her out. Rising, Leigh started to protest, her bound hands clenched. He swung too fast for her to block. His fist connected with her jaw, and she saw stars, falling to the tent floor where she simply lay dazed. She heard a bloodcurdling scream, and she tried to rise, tried to do something, but she collapsed, helplessness and bleakness chilling her. The pain, the shock, the blast, and the fatigue caught up to her. She passed out.

9

The sound echoed across the jungle, carrying on the still air bringing the team up short. Skull took the time to bend down and give Bones water, his gut clenching. Bones was panting heavily. They had been running for hours, and apparently, they were getting close. The piercing scream came again, grating along his nerve endings, making him frantic to get to the two women before any more tragedy could happen. Someone was in terrible pain. Anna? Leigh? Some other poor soul?

Hazard started to bolt, but Iceman grabbed his vest and brought him up short.

“We’re not going to go in there in a panic,” Iceman said. “They have no idea we’re coming. We take out the guards, then we assault the camp. Get light, and let’s go.”

They dropped their packs, and there were no more screams. The initial torture had gotten down to the questions.

Skull moved into position, keeping Bones on a short leash. He patted the ground, and the dog obeyed. “Stay,” he said, making eye contact with the Malinois. Stealth was imperative, and he couldn’t control Bones growling or snapping when he went into hell-hound mode. He would have to wait here. He crouched low as he and his teammates separated to search for the perimeter guards. He was so thoroughly hidden in the dense overgrowth, the guard’s eyes passed right over him.

Skull crouched low at the base of a tree, the delicate scent wafted around him, a sweet smell that was coming from the pure white, pretty as hell flowers. Orchids grew wild out here. Many of the orchid hunters who had perished in this death gap would be orgasmic over these specimens. But Skull’s intense gaze never left his quarry.

“Quiet takedown,” Iceman said through the comms.

Skull moved in, his knife already in his fist, settling there like an extension of his body, his senses active, and his adrenaline burning through his veins. The man he watched, then stalked, twisted around, looking nervously into the thick jungle. Maybe he was feeling the hot breath of death on the back of his neck, not understanding that his life was now measured in seconds.

The Darien was a haven for men who participated in illegal actions. Not even the CNP would come here. But it was for the better. SEALs who trained together like his team did could almost read each other’s minds in battle. And they had excellent fire control—they could hit targets without killing friendlies. Now that they were close to the women, it would be heartbreaking if friendly fire took one or both of them out.

Cowards, Skull thought again as anger licked through him, fueling his attack. The man was dead at his feet before he could even take his last breath. Not many opponents were as well trained as he was, and these cartel goons even less so. They were guns for hire, and when money motivated, there wasn’t much integrity, loyalty, or skill brought to bear.

As the word of neutralized guards filtered through their comms, Skull called Bones, and brought his weapon around, slipping the strap over his head to free it for action.

They crept closer and he crouched waiting for Ice’s orders.

“Tents, boss,” Boomer said. “Four with six baddies I can see. No telling how many in the tents.”

“Copy that,” Iceman said. “GQ, Preacher, Boomer, and Breakneck. Get eyes in those tents and report back.”

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