Page 8 of Delta: Retribution

Team members in the house gave the same responses.

Roman’s voice crackled in his earpiece. Then static.

“Repeat,” Brock ordered.

Once again a crackle, then more clearly, Roman came through. “We’ve got movement. One hundred yards away, tunnel exit. HVT is with ’em.”

Shit. Trace bounded down the stairs. Colin and Luke were behind him, Javier coming broadside. Roman gave directions as the team ran forward. They had no other guidelines than that. Thick brush became nearly impassable. Leaves slapped his face as Trace ran through the jungle, following Roman’s guidance.

Brock called, “If you have shots, you have a go.”

“We’re flying blind here.” Luke’s voice sounded in his earpiece.

“One more second,” Ryder whispered. Two shots fired. “Girl’s alone. Trace, to your left, twenty feet.”

And Trace was there in a second, searching for a screaming woman or for any sign of life. He jumped over a downed tree and pushed through a thorn bush.

There.He caught sight of a feminine shoulder almost hidden behind the tree. The HVT. He went wide, trying not to scare her. She faced the other way as he approached, her head rotating as if searching for incoming assault. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she stood over two dead men, thanks to Ryder’s shots. She held what had to be one of her captor’s automatic weapons. It was pulled up, ready to fire.

“Behind you,” he said calmly. Last thing he needed was her to take someone out with an accidental trigger finger.

She swerved, the long barrel of the automatic weapon pointed at his face. Her finger was on the trigger. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

He put his hands up. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“Prove it.”

It was almost pitch black out, and the canopy of trees overhead didn’t allow for too much moonlight. But even in those circumstances, he could tell that she was more pissed than scared. And there was something familiar about that voice. Maybe even that attitude.

He tried again. “We’re your extraction team. Put your weapon down; we’re bringing you home.”

She dropped the barrel an inch in the dark. “Convince me you’re a good guy or walk away.” She jerked the gun at him. “Or I’ll shoot you. Your choice.”

His eyes narrowed, annoyance picking at his already uneasy attitude. He didn’t have time for this.

Brock gave orders in his ear. “Acquire the target alive by any means necessary. Confirm.”

Well, their team leader didn’t have a high-powered rifle pointed at his face. “Give me a minute, boss.”

“One minute and counting.”

Great. He turned his attention back to the HVT. “Easy there, girl. I’m American. We’re bringing you back to the US.” He slowly dropped his weapon, letting it sling over his chest. “See, a gesture of good faith. You’re the only one pointing a gun at anyone. I really don’t want to be shot today. Hurts like a bitch.”

Though a point-blank shot by her gun would kill him.

She laughed, and it tickled a memory. What the hell was happening?

“That doesn’t prove anything.” She moved the barrel of the gun away from the center of his chest but not by much. “Back away from me.”

“Or what? You’re going to kill me.” He inched forward. “I’m on a seven-person team of shadows that have you surrounded. I go down, one of them gets you, and they won’t be nice about it.” Surrounded by almost inhabitable rain forest, he had to laugh. “Even if I wasn’t your ticket out of here, what, you’re going to walk to the nearest village?”

She didn’t answer.

Enough. He ducked, lunged, grabbed the assault rifle, and spun her around. They crushed onto the tree that hadn’t hidden her from him, and he whispered into her ear. “My name is Trace. I’m taking you home. Trust me, listen to me, and we both live. Got it?”

Nothing. She didn’t struggle. Didn’t say a word. She wore a thin tank top, no bra, maybe some camo pants. Something familiar, again, grazed the back of his mind.

“You hear me?” He wouldn’t step away from her until they had an agreement. “Nod or speak. No time for a standoff.”

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