Page 3 of Wrecked
Rain fell in a heavy drizzle, soaking Sam until he felt at one with the dark Venezuelan forest they entered. He didn’t give a damn about bad weather.
It came in handy sometimes.
His first concern was always keeping his team safe as they extracted the package—a kidnapped US senator.
This op had been pulled together with plenty of talent but rushed. Opportunity rarely cared about time when it knocked. No one to date had been this close to nailing the international predator known only as W, who his FALCA team believed held the high-value hostage in a reclusive location.
This was not a kidnapping that required a monetary payment.
If W did indeed have the senator, there was no amount of gold that would save the politician. Senator Turner had publicly vowed to bring W to justice. Special Force teams were already following other leads in multiple countries. One of Logan’s intel specialists turned up intel pointing at W possibly being in South America.
Hell yeah, Sam had wanted to go for many reasons the minute he knew the plan, not just to cement his position with FALCA moving forward.
Moose, another FALCA member, one who handled intel gathering for multiple teams, had hit paydirt while searching for anything on the senator’s kidnapping.
Logan had activated FALCA immediately.
They all wanted W. None more than Sam. The wordcrimesfailed to describe the hideous murders and destruction committed by that sick monster, W.
They went wheels up knowing every detail could not be flushed out.
No op went exactly as planned.
Sam kept waiting for the mission calm to settle over him. He lived for that moment when his world made sense, but he could not shake the foreboding sensation of spiders with sharp claws crawling up his spine.
Chapter 2
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Hallene squinted tosee ahead where an endless darkness waited and paused to listen for any sign she’d been discovered. If they caught her in this dirt tunnel, she had no chance of outrunning bullets.
Her jeans and long-sleeved black T-shirt had been soaked by the time she parked the BMW 1200 GS motorcycle built to be used on or off-road. She’d been fortunate to even find a dual sport bike to ride, which could handle dense woods as easily as the highways in Venezuela.
Money solved most problems in a foreign country, but only if a product was readily available.
She breathed slowly and had to push away claustrophobia needling her, then strode forward on the hard-packed dirt path. An LED light hidden in a ring she wore bounced over the hard-packed ground with an occasional thick root bulging up across the path. Roots in the wrong place could compromise an old tunnel like this built centuries ago without engineering plans.
