Page 46 of Casey's Hero

“Maybe we can pry open the door using one of the legs of the table I ran into.” Casey hurried back to the table against the wall. She flipped it over and wiggled one of the legs back and forth until it broke off.

Kalea abandoned the door and joined her. “Even if we can’t pry open the door, they have to come back sometime. We can use the table legs and the tabletop as weapons.”

“Good thinking.” Casey worked another leg loose while Kalea broke off the other two. “The jagged ends will be good for spears.”

Kalea lifted the tabletop, weighing it in her hands. “And the tabletop would put a dent in someone’s head.”

They set their finds beside the door.

“We could use the blanket to throw over someone.” Casey hurried back to the pile of rags. “The door opens inward, so if they don’t see us where they left us lying on the floor, they have to enter to find us. We’ll be ready.

Kalea’s eyes widened, and she pressed her ear to the door panel. “Shh. I hear footsteps and voices coming this way.”

“I’ll throw the blanket over his head. You hit him with the table,” she whispered and stood to the doorknob side of the door.

Kalea lifted the tabletop over her head and stood on the other side of Casey.

The scrape of metal against metal indicated someone pushing a key into the lock.

Casey drew in a breath, raised the blanket in front of her and waited.

CHAPTER 11

When Jacob reachedthe top of the stone steps, he pushed through a clear, plexiglass gate onto a massive, tiled deck overlooking the ocean. A bright moon shone. He’d just passed through the gate when a man bearing a semi-automatic rifle stepped out of a sliding glass door. His attention was on the ocean, not the steps, the gate or the men easing up the steps in the darkness.

Jacob raised a closed fist and froze. Hank stopped behind him, and the rest of the men slowed their ascent.

The gunman walked to the wall and spit over the side.

Jacob eased across the tile, sneaking up on the man, hoping he didn’t turn until he was close enough to take him down.

When he was within six feet of the guard, the man turned back to the house and blinked, his brow puckering.

Jacob took advantage of the man’s momentary surprise and brought up the butt of his rifle in a lightning move, hitting the man in the chin and knocking him backward.

He stumbled and fell on his back.

Hank was on him in the next second, slamming the butt of his rifle into the man’s temple. He didn’t move.

Pulling zip ties out of his back pocket, Hank rolled the man onto his belly and secured his wrists behind his back, then tied his ankles. Reid slapped a piece of duct tape over the guy’s mouth.

Reid and Jacob dragged him into the shadows. Apparently, with the lights off on the deck, the people inside couldn’t see out. So far, the odds were in their favor.

With one gun-toting man down, Jacob was feeling more confident they were in the right place. It was highly likely they were in the presence of a drug cartel. Hopefully, the one that was holding Hawk.

All the men had made it to the top of the steps and onto the deck, hunkering down in the shadows thrown by the brilliant starlight.

Reid stood at the nearest floor-to-ceiling window, peering inside. “There are six men inside, all armed, and one female,” he whispered into the mic. “Looks like our party crasher from the Big Wave.”

Jacob’s fists tightened around his weapon. Had he known Camila would have caused this much trouble, he’d have had her arrested for assaulting him. Maybe she would have had to stay a couple of nights in jail—at least until after the wedding.

“Got two more men coming out of the hallway. There’s a man between them, dressed in a black tuxedo.”

“It’s Hawk,” Jacob said.

“Roger that,” Reid said. “He’s struggling to be free, though his hands appear tied behind his back. They’re bringing him out into the room with the others.”

Maddog’s voice came in through Jacob’s headset, “Got a side door to the south.”

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