Page 88 of Legacy's Call

“And Fleur?”

He closed his eyes momentarily. “I’ll find her. Come hell or high water, I’ll find her, and if they hurt her, they will pay.”

Rana stared up at him. “Good.”

“Rana, come help me, please,” Shelly called to her, and the woman looked at him for permission. When he nodded, she moved quickly to Shelly’s side.

“We ready?” Deacon asked him.

Ronan mentally surveyed his equipment and then looked at his men. They were there and ready. “Let’s do it,” he said.

They set out in a quick jog that ate up the terrain between them and the camp. Before they emerged in the clear zone of the camp, Ronan led them down to the equipment area. No outposts were manned by militia, so no one would see them coming. Still, they moved quietly and low-crawled across the clearzone slowly but with purpose. Ronan signaled for the cutters. Wraith fished them out of Jug’s pack and handed them to him. He snapped the plastic ties that kept the wire mesh in place. A bullshit patch job at best. Fucker was planning on using this hole again, that much was obvious.

He pushed the mesh in and went through. He navigated through the equipment and stopped. Something was off. He turned and looked at Wraith. “Where’s the tractor?”

Wraith spun and examined the equipment. “Unknown.”

Ronan waited for each of the men to get through the opening in the fence. When they had, he advanced to the area behind the structure tent. He held for a moment to ensure he didn’t hear anyone in the tent before using the cutters. This patch was done well, of course. This patch was the one Ronan had watched the fucker fix. After he’d made the hole. The son of a bitch. Ronan worked as quickly as he dared. The sound of metal snipping was distinct, but there was no one around. The tent was dark. Which meant Miller and Mathias had told the night crew not to worry about showing up.

He bent the wire mesh in and moved through the hole. He moved to the corner of the tent andexamined the route forward, noting little movement in the camp. People were settling in for the night. Wraith tapped him on the shoulder, letting him know everyone was through the opening. He nodded and moved out.

They advanced to the junction of the pathway, and he looked back and found Deacon. In sign language, he told his brother, “Left. Fourth tent, this side.”

Deacon nodded and signed back, “Rear entry.”

Ronan nodded and signed, “Wait for my signal.”

Deacon nodded. Ronan and his team moved right, leaving Deacon and Cobra team to handle Mathias. He moved, and as one, his team followed. A laugh and conversation from one of the tents they were passing froze the entire team. Ronan held his fist up and waited. When no one exited, he released his fist and moved.

They made it to Miller’s tent. Ronan knew exactly where the fucker’s bed was, but he knew Miller wouldn’t be in bed. He’d be waiting for Habib to come back. He positioned himself behind where Miller’s desk would be while Wraith stood quietly with his Interceptor 911 poised to slice through the canvas. The knife was older than he was, but it was sharper than a fucking razor.

Ronan looked at the rest of his team and received nods. He held his earpiece for three seconds to send the emergency sound through it. Dude’s voice came across the comms, “Standby. In three, two, one, go.”

Wraith stabbed through the canvas and used his body weight to shred the canvas. Ronan was the first in the tent. There was no one in the desk area. He rushed through to the bed. Nothing. “Empty.”

“Same.” Deacon’s voice informed him.

“Where the fuck are they?” He moved to the front of the tent and peered through a crack in the flap.

“Satellite is online, Skipper. How can I help?”

“Keep an eye open for anyone approaching and look for anything unusual.” Ronan looked at Wraith. “Would they be waiting for Habib at the militia’s camp?”

“Could be.” He nodded. “They weren’t in the structure tent.”

“Deacon, rendezvous my location.”

“Copy.”

“Skipper, there are no vehicles active except the one at the edge of the camp. From the magnification, it looks like a tractor. Two human heat signatures. The camp is full of heat signatures, but none that are on the move.”

Ronan frowned. “What edge?”

“Ah, southern,” Dude said.

“What the fuck are they doing?” Ronan walked out of the tent. Deacon’s team was there moments later. “Southern edge?”

“Yes, in a minute.”

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