Page 111 of Redemption

Victoria went over to the woman who’d been nothing but a bitch and knelt down. “I know you’re terrified, and you don’t know me from Jack.”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“But this is the second time I’ve been locked up by these assholes.” Victoria sucked in a breath, hating to admit that. “I don’t know if that makes me the worst person to give advice or maybe the best, but I’m all you’ve got right now.”

The bitchy lady seemed to listen.

Victoria continued, “I think some shit is about to go down. I have somewhat of a professional background in dealing with these guys.”

“I know who you are,” the lady said.

“Then you probably think getting caught by them once was one time too many.”

She shook her head. “No. You can’t outsmart evil.”

Rosalie nodded her head. “That’s the truth.”

And that’s something Victoria had never thought about before. “Okay.”

“Do what you can,” the woman said. “I support your efforts.”

“Thank you,” Victoria said, however much she didn’t like how “your efforts” sounded. “Keys first.”

The good thing about the chain-link fence was that it was very secure. She walked over and shook it. No rattle. After watching for the two men running around the front of the barn, she jumped up. “Here I go.”

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“Well, that was a first.” Ryder had successfully watched a Russian smuggler meet up with an American motorcycle gang, go into a barn, and apparently, come to an agreement. Then everyone went their merry ways.

The MC backed a black van into the barn, and minutes later, the men jumped on their bikes and escorted it out. The Russians had themselves a cheery toast, bottles up, after the MC blokes rolled away, and eventually, they climbed into their expensive Mercedes and sped away.

Everything went according to plan, as detailed by Sugar and the American government. What the hell they were thinking? Ryder didn’t know. He didn’t understand, and he was going to reserve his headache-inducing, screaming comments because Delta team had just let a motorcycle club run off with a cache of illegal, untraceable weapons without serial numbers that would probably be on the streets before dawn.

But at the same time, he had to ask the question, who the fuck cared? He was going to get his woman.

Stress pounded at his temples. The government had done it. Ryder didn’t let them go. They did. They were approved.Some kind of new world order. Or same world order. Fuck it.He didn’t get it.

What Ryder needed to do was concentrate. He had a go-to provide sniper cover for the team executing extraction, which was more than he thought he’d get, considering that he’d had recent head trauma and was personally involved with the high-risk target.

He pulled his night vision binoculars from their pouch and checked the landscape as the team moved into position. The circumstances were better than they’d hoped. Grayson was moving on one end as Colin secured a better vantage point for Ryder in case he needed a set of eyes from the south side. Luke and Trace were ready at the back, and Ryder had as near of a direct line of sight on the barn as possible.

One side of it was lined with work vehicles, and other than the occasional window, the scenery was drab.Large but boring. The property had many outbuildings and a silo, entrances and egresses, wild brush and maintained fields. In theory, it could be a logistical nightmare. But he was adequately pleased as he moved his rifle into place and resized the legs on the tripod.

“Still no thermals from inside?” Grayson asked.

“That’s a negative,” Parker reported from Titan HQ.

“What, do they have lead-lined walls?” Trace quipped.

“I suspect they’re suffering from a case of the didn’t-do-shit-itis,” Parker said.

“Is that so?” Ryder mumbled.

“’Fraid so.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said.

“Brother, so will I,” Parker agreed.

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