Page 59 of Surge

One-handed, Zim pushed him into a sit against the hull, next to his buddy.

Garrett jumped down, walked over to Delaney. He pulled her into a hug. “You did good,” he whispered in her ear, then stepped back.

Zim’s jaw hung open. Oops. Then he grinned, deliberately turned and started taking pics of the Pakistanis.

Garrett awkwardly put his hands on Delaney’s shoulders and looked her over head to toe. “You’re okay. Right?”

Tilting her head, she looked deep in his eyes, bit her bottom lip. Nodded.

Surge jumped down from the LD3 like a superhero—which he was—and stood next to Delaney, glaring at the two Pakistanis closest to them.

Garrett returned Delaney’s nod and walked over to the man he’d just zip-tied. He grabbed the collar of his shirt. “What’s going on here, Sachaai?” he demanded.

The guy spat onto the deck.

Garrett pressed his leg onto the guy’s legs and pulled out another zip tie, secured his ankles.

Zim lifted the unconscious man’s wrist as he flex-tied him.

Shaking his head, Garrett eyed the S tattoos all around. “Pics of their tatts, Zim.”

“You got it. But first, here’s Broken Ankle’s phone. Guy’s face got me into it.” He handed it over, then reached for his camera and began to snap photos. “The last text convo was four minutes ago. With Hakim.”

Garrett read the message.

Hakim

Americans coming. Don’t let them live. On my way.

This team was ready for Hakim.

Except Zim’s wrist was clearly dicey. The extent of Delaney’s training was a couple short self-defense sessions with him. He looked at his watch. They couldn’t secure two LD3s to the semi, much less figure out the semi, in one minute.

“Enough photos. Let’s cut out of here.”

They raced to the nose of the plane, down the stairs.

Of course, Surge beat them to the SUV. Delaney jumped in the back with him and shut the door.

Outside the SUV, Garrett paused. “Zim?”

Zim slid his camera back into the pocket of his tactical pants. “Yes, Boss?”

Once the guy looked up, Garrett held his gaze, pointed at the wrist he was rubbing. “I’m driving.”

A defeated Zim huffed and tossed him the keys, then climbed in.

Behind the wheel, Garrett was more than ready to get out of here. He nailed the gas, tires squealing as they pulled onto the street.

Caldwell keyed the comms, sounding breathless. “Bear, that building manager? Just spotted the same Sachaai S tattoo as those guards in the shoe factory.”

“That explains everything. What a bunch of—” Garrett bit back a curse, slammed the heel of his hand against the dash. “That building manager straight up lied to my face when he told me the unload crew was finished with the plane!”

Sometimes a leader failed. Sometimes a leader just plain got lied to.

Sometimes full intel—like Sachaai hiding on the plane, like cargo still on the plane—got held back from a leader.

The spook was good at that.

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