Page 66 of Surge

Zim’s eyes sparked. “New intel! The building manager’s parents are joint owners of the Container Port of Indonesia. The containers are there—Warehouse 79B. Restricted access.”

“It narrows the search down to about two hundred containers,” Caldwell said.

Raking a hand through his hair, Garrett nodded. “Not bad.” His gaze hit Delaney’s. “Especially with an MWD.”

That warmed Delaney again, her thoughts lingering heavily on the near-kiss the guys had interrupted. But she appreciated this more—being included.

“I’ll mess with 79B security cameras so they can’t see you,” Caldwell said. “Also, the container port hires roaming security guards.”

Garrett’s lips flattened as he scrutinized Caldwell. He dipped his head. “All right. We roll out in ten minutes. All black.”

Zim and Caldwell sped off to get gear packed and loop in Damocles.

But Garrett hung back . . . and Delaney did too, busying herself with Surge, who was at his water bowl. She finally braved Garrett’s gaze and felt the intensity of his eyes down to her toes.

The lines around his eyes softened. “Promise not to get killed.”

“Back at you.”

11

CONTAINER PORT OF INDONESIA

Delaney wouldn’t say a word,but the new blister was killing her. It seemed like they’d stolen from stack to stack of containers for miles in the dark nighttime maze of the container port to get to the right warehouse.

Garrett lifted a fist, and she and Zim stopped behind him. Following his lead, they backed up against a container, crouching to melt into its shadow cast by the light pole. She drew Surge to herself, but he remained on alert, head on a swivel.

A tactical mission like this was way beyond a search exercise.

Two of the roaming guards Caldwell had warned them about walked past. The snub-nosed one flashed his light as he chatted up his taller, skinnier counterpart.

Garrett signaled her and Zim to stay in the shadows of the container stack, and he sneaked off after the guards. Gentle ocean waves brought fresh salt air into her nose. And the sound of seagulls.

“What’s he doing?” she whispered to Zim.

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

Garrett returned a couple minutes later, and they followed him shadow to shadow, taking the next available turn to slip down the passage parallel to the one the guards were taking.

The heavy crunch of the guards’ footsteps on the next aisle sent shivers down her spine. They were close—as close as the shooter in Dad’s store had been from her hiding place in the dog food aisle.

These guards also had guns, also were ready to shoot. Would they shoot Garrett? Surge? Sweat beaded on her neck.

She’d never thought that simply telling Garrett about the shooting would bring up the memories like this.

She drew in a silent breath.

Thing was, issues or not, Garrett was right. Christ had put dog skills in her DNA, brought her here. A drop of sweat on her neck slid all the way down her spine.

Well, today, she wouldn’t freeze.Please, God.She rubbed Surge’s ear, focused her attention on Garrett.

He came to a sudden stop under a light pole, fist up, and she nearly smacked into him. Shifting back, she realized they were in front of a huge metal shed labeled “Warehouse 79B” and “Restricted Access” in English and Indonesian. The door had an electronic keypad. How were they going to get in?

Garrett pulled a keycard with a picture of the snub-nosed guard out of his pocket. No wonder he’d gone after the guards. He swung open the warehouse door, and they entered the dark space. He waited as Zim pulled the door closed behind them. “Eagle Three,” he comm’d, “we are in Warehouse 79B. You take care of the cams?”

“I have their system looping nothing but container stacks, as planned,” Caldwell reported back. “You’re good to go. Looking like there’s a couple hundred containers in there with you.”

“Copy that.” Garrett powered on his SureFire and let its beam trace the interior. With Zim’s light added, the space was well lit, revealing that they stood in the middle of a wide aisle. On either side, rows of various-sized containers, including LD3s, filled the cavernous space held up by metal support beams. Forklifts hunched in the corner to their left.

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