Page 66 of Over the Edge

Too bad. They were going have a long conversation about not stowing away on dangerous ops as soon as they were in the clear. And then he was going to kick her ass for pulling such a stunt, not to mention putting herself in serious danger like this.

Mansur stared at him, mouth gaping. “Don’t listen to him. Of course you can inspect the fruit—“

Trevor cut him off, gesturing impatiently in Mansur’s direction. “He’s just the driver. It’s my cargo. I hired him to deliver it. Look. We’re in a hurry. We want to make the Bagva Pass while it’s still light out, and we’ve got a long drive in front of us. We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“You’ll make time,” The leader declared warningly.

Trevor sighed and gestured toward the back of the truck. “Fine. But make it fast.” Trevor stepped behind the truck first to make sure Anna wasn’t visible from the tailgate.

A quick glance revealed no sign of her.

Ideally, he would let one of the militants get inside the truck and they would take him out quietly. That would leave two for Anna and three for him. Given how quickly and accurately they both could shoot, and given that they would have the element of surprise, they should be able to eliminate the problem. When outnumbered like this, it was all about dividing and conquering the larger force.

Not that he was going to get any chance to talk over the plan with her. He was going to have to rely on her unfinished training and for her to correctly anticipate who he was counting on her to take down.

I’m so going to die in the next two minutes.

Wherever you are, Kenny, I’m sorry I failed to get you out, man.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Anna swore silently when she heard the leader of the militants insist on inspecting the cargo. Would the presence of a woman be totally ignored by this gang, or would there be a confrontation over her? If only she knew how Trevor wanted to play it. Quickly, she shrugged into her burka, just in case he wanted to play her off as a local woman…maybe getting a ride or belonging to him.

“Look, gentlemen,” Trevor said clearly. “It’s go time for me. Can we speed this up?”

Go time.

Got it.Trevor was planning to take out the six militants by force. Quietly, she unholstered both the handgun and field knife that had been delivered in the trunk of clothes, along with an almost full SEAL kit and a note from Cal that said merely, “Bring them home alive.”

There hadn’t been a sound suppressor in the cache, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d been delighted to get any weapons at all.

The truck jostled as someone jumped up onto the truck bed.

Trevor said, “If you insist on doing this, let me help you. That way you won’t bruise the fruit, and it’ll go faster. Let me get the crowbar so I can open the crates.” A second someone jumped up into the truck, lightly, easily. That would be Trevor.

Crap. She was crouching on top of the crowbar. She eased it out from under her foot just in time for Trevor’s hand to come around the corner of the crate she was hiding behind. He flashed a quick hand signal to get ready to roll.

Duh. She picked up the crow bar and handed it to him.

His fist closed around the iron bar and retreated from view.

“This is a lot of fuss over a bunch of berries,” Trevor groused.

Underneath his words, she heard the dull thud of iron on soft, human flesh, and the grunt underlying Trevor’s words as he must have caught the falling body of the militant. She risked peeking around her crate and jumped forward to help Trevor carry the unconscious man to her hiding place. As she straightened, she showed her weapons to Trevor.

He nodded tersely and lifted his chin toward the knife.

Message received. They were going to do this as quietly as they could for as long as they could.

Trevor moved toward the back of the truck. “Hey, could one of you come up here and help us? We’re having a little trouble getting one of the lids off.”

Anna felt the truck give under the weight of a second militiaman. She tucked her pistol in its hip holster beneath her voluminous robe, and hefted the knife in her right hand.

The next time she risked peeking out, Trevor faced her and one of the militants had his back toward her. The militant was using the crow bar to pry up a wooden crate top. She eased forward behind the guy and slapped her left hand over his mouth as she stabbed with all her strength into the base of his skull, angling the knife upward.

“Easy there!” Trevor exclaimed. “I swear, you guys are going to ruin my entire shipment at this rate!” He continued to complain loudly until the dying man’s attempts at crying out subsided.

Her blow was a lethal one, and fast, but it still took twenty seconds or so to render the victim unconscious and silent.

---