Page 5 of Covert Mission

People might be buried in those heaps. Living people. Dead people. Mothers and children. Fathers. Brothers. Sons.

My stomach clenches as I straighten, pulling my shoulders back with protesting muscles.

They need me.

On weak legs, I step from behind the cargo truck into the mayhem. Crying, dirty people. Dogs barking. Aid workers in hard hats, scrambling to help. Men and women are moving crumbled debris by hand.

The despair thickens the air, choking me, making my mind race with chaotic panic.

Focus, Camy. Get your shit together.

But a sinking feeling in my marrow warns me. Maybe it’s another quake coming. Or something…

I don’t know what.

I shake my head and step under the blue and white tent and focus on what we need to do. Unpack. Organize. Get to work.

The sound of yelling is my first clue that something is wrong.Morewrong, if that’s possible when there might be living people under those broken buildings.

But this sounds different. The tone of the voices makes me turn toward the broken road leading into the village. My heart clenches.

Stops. Dead.

Breath locked tight, I sway on my feet. No. Not now.

Fear slithers through me until it’s squeezing my organs in a vice-grip.

I knew this could happen. But…Christ.So soon? Of course, the earthquake was all over the news.

If we hadn't already been en route to a flooding disaster, we wouldn’t be here yet. That is, if we could get here at all. But we were close enough to make it.

So were the bad guys.

Truck after truck full of outlaw rebels careens over the broken road and tumbled debris, machine guns raised, yelling at the traumatized citizens of Santa Rosa.

They point and shout at the earthquake recovery teams.

Those greedy, looting bastards. Like vultures flocking to a community that’s been brought to its knees.

I was briefed on this. Knew it would happen. But in the first twenty-four hours?

“Dammit.” It’s a muttered curse from Belle, one of my staff members. A second later, she appears next to my right shoulder.

“Crap. This is bad.” She grabs my forearm for emphasis, but it’s so slick with sweat her hand slides off. Her face is a mask of anger. “They’re going to try to stop us, you watch,” she says under her breath.

The hell they will.

Jutting my chin, I stare across the small-town square at the man that seems to be a ringleader. “I’m not letting that happen. I’ll come up with some way around it. Negotiate or something.”

“God, no!” She spins, and her midnight blue eyes are full of raw panic. “Camile, the first priority is to play it smart.”

“Sometimes, men like this are all flash and no bang. They might just be putting on a show.”

Belle grabs my arm again and, this time, her hand doesn’t slide because she clenches it with frightening strength. “Men like that hurt innocent people. Companies like ours are targets for ransom. We have to stay together and keep our eyes peeled.”

I’m not immune to her fear.

As I stare at her alarmed expression, the tremor returns to my muscles. Things could go bad in a hurry.

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