Blue Blood's Trifecta (2 page)

"Night's here."

He swung around, noting the desert camouflage clothing covering a tall, large-framed man with dark-toned skin, piercing cobalt blue eyes, and facial features that shouted his obvious Native American ancestry. Curious to meet the leader and creator of the Wind Warriors, Ryan trotted after his sprinting sister.

"What's going on?" Lark asked, coming to a halt.

Night shook his head and gestured toward a large black helicopter. "I'll tell you on the way." Spinning, he pinned Ryan with a look. "Thanks for bringing her so fast."

"No problem." Checking Night out for the first time up close, Ryan found pride, concern, and supreme confidence in the man's face and stance. The man demanded respect from his carriage alone. Without a second thought, he trailed his sister to the chopper.

Night appeared at his side, startling Ryan with the quickness and silence in which he moved. "This isn't your fight."

Rolling his eyes, Ryan sighed. "Like I told Lark, it is now."

"Are you trained for this?"

Pausing in mid-stride, Ryan faced the leader stoically. "All the men in my family for the past five generations have served in the Army. Even my baby sis jumped on board the family wagon."

"This isn't basic training or a mock exercise."

"I may be FBI now, but I spent three years as an Army Ranger. Two tours of Afghanistan and more black ops assignments than I can recall." Anger and frustration rose to the fore even as he realized the man had a right to question his skill level and abilities on such an important mission.

Night's eyebrow shot up.

"You want to spend time yapping about my credentials or would you rather get airborne and save your men?" Not waiting for an answer, Ryan tossed his backpack to the floor of the helicopter and jumped in easily, Night right on his heels.

Plopping down beside Lark, he stared straight ahead at the pilot who was dressed in dark green from head to toe. A helmet complete with visor and communication gear finished the package.

Nothing resembled the US military except perhaps the solid black chopper, a Huey, probably from the Vietnam War era. Fully restored, it probably spent more time carrying sight-seers over the area than it ever did in battle. He hoped the old warhorse could sustain another round of live action without breaking apart or allowing a shower of bullets to penetrate the metal sides. For the first time in forever, he longed for the present day H-60 Black Hawk helicopters built for stealth, quiet, extreme offensive and defensive maneuvers, and longevity under duress.

Another man with dark blond hair sat opposite, his fingers clamped around a long rifle in hand. His fatigues, a collection of dark forest colors. They shared a look and a nod. Unless he missed his guess, he stared at a highly trained sniper.

Night shut the side door. "Let's roll."

The last rays of sunset reflected across the horizon before the sky turned charcoal, well on the way to a pitch black, moonless night. A perfect time for a surprise attack or a deadly ambush.

"Welcome aboard."

Automatically nodding, his racing mind took a moment to click on the voice, all too cheerful and feminine as if she were a 757 commercial plane hostess preparing to deliver her safety spiel including hand gestures. The thought fed fuel to his already flaring irritability.

The female pilot turned her head, allowing him to glimpse emerald green eyes and a tuft of brunette bangs under her headgear. She saluted Night with a small grin.

"She's flying us into battle?" Ryan cringed at his own words and the incredulous tone that emerged, but couldn't bite them back. Lark smacked him hard in the chest, her lips turned down in an outright frown of annoyance.

The rotors began to whirl as the engine revved up. Within seconds, they lifted off, zipping southwest at a fast clip.

"Listen, shit for brains, this isn't my first time flying and I've flown in a hell of a lot worse situations than this."

He blinked at the crude words and winced once more, realizing he deserved the insult. His sister not only flew into battle, she dashed in on foot with the other men in her team. Women held their own in the military even though they received little credit and quite a bit of flack for their presence among so many men. Never did he put a lady down for choosing to put her life on the line in the armed forces. They deserved much more reverence than that.

The co-pilot snickered. "She told you, man."

The voice rang a bell from memories past. Ryan sat forward, trying to place the man. Stumped, he struggled with the vague recognition until the man swiveled around, revealing letters written on his flight helmet.

"Rogue?"

"Blue Balls?"

Ryan snorted at the twist on his Army nickname. He couldn't believe his old rival sat in front of him. Seeing Rogue again sent a jolt through him like he'd just been hit by a close range paint ball, leaving an unusual sensation, not quite a sting, but not a warm fuzzy feeling either.

Tossing the thoughts aside, he fired back with gusto. "It's Blue Blood, you bastard."

"So you say. I know better." Rogue's deep voice carried across the small confines despite the noise of the machine.

"You're just fixated on my balls. Sounds like jealousy to me."

"Not the way I'm hung, bro. Low and heavy."

They fell into an old argument, one debated over for months on end. Over the years, Ryan thought about Rogue now and again, wondering where he ended up, if he chose to remain on active duty, if he were even then trudging through the sands of Afghanistan in the overbearing heat. Never would he have expected to find him on a chopper flying to prevent a massacre of his sister's team. The fact jostled Ryan in a way he couldn't describe or understand.

"I take it you know one another?" Lark broke in, busily dragging black clothes from her carry-on bag. Night's gaze darted from one to the other.

"Yeah. He was always trailing my ass, like some long lost puppy just out of basics."

"That was you, jackass."

Lark threw her hands up in the air. "Truce!" When everyone quieted, she glanced at Night. "What's the mission?"

"Cale, Loco, and Spoon are headed for a drug factory just across the southern US border, supposedly one of two large operations owned and run by Indigo Rojas. Intel showed the compound had armed guards and decent surveillance, but nothing like what we've seen with the larger cartel." He sucked in a breath and continued. "I learned today Rojas is greedy, climbing the rungs of power two at a time. Somehow our prior information proved false, grossly lacking in truth."

"An ambush?" Lark whispered.

"Possibly. Either way, we have to beat them to the rendezvous. There we can formulate another plan of action and figure out how to destroy this latest sidewinder."

Ryan's gut churned. Traitors at such high levels possessed their own kind of evil, poisoning the good intents of others, letting them march bravely ahead into sure death. "They won't respond to communication?"

Night shook his head. "They went incommunicado approximately thirty minutes before I learned of the error. Thus, the chopper."

The pilot gave a little pinky wave. "I guess we should introduce ourselves. I'm Tempest. Tall, dark, and surly here is my boss, Matt, aka Rogue."

Lark took up where Tempest left off. "I'm Lark. This bonehead next to me is my brother, Ryan. I'm not sure about Blue Balls, but honestly, don't want to go there. The therapy. Yikes."

The group grinned at her antics. Ryan only shook his head.

"This is Dillon." She pointed to the sniper. "I think everyone knows Night."

"Now can we get down to business?" Dillon growled, his face covered in worry.

"Cale's his brother," Lark whispered in Ryan's ear. The small piece of knowledge filled in several vacant blanks. She held up a black sweater and pants.

"Don't put those on yet," Night ordered.

Ryan blinked in confusion. "Why not?"

"We'll have to get close enough for them to stop and realize it's us. Since it'll be dark and they won't know we're coming, let's hope they don't get jumpy and decide we're bad guys and well worth blowing out of the sky." Night glanced out the side window. "I don't want to just dump a man in the middle of the road and hope they recognize him before splatting him like a bug on a windshield. But, even in the darkest night, I think they can pick Lark out with her blonde hair and bright pink clothes."

"They better." Lark wadded her clothes up once more. "Where are you gonna drop me off?"

"About a mile from the compound. Let's hope they aren't ahead of schedule. If so, this could get damn messy." Night's jaw tightened with the last statement.

Ryan detected worry in the Native American's eyes.

As if feeling the stare, Night's attention swung his way. "I don't suppose you speak Navajo?"

Navajo? The World War II Code Talker language?
Blinking a couple of times, Ryan shook his head. "No, sir. Can't say I know anyone who does."

"That's the point." Night glanced at Lark. "You ready?"

Slinging a rifle over her shoulder, she stuffed a couple of grenades in her pocket, snatched from her leader's carry-on bag. "Ready as I'll ever be."

All eyes turned to the windows, searching for any sign of their comrades or their vehicle, hoping they weren't too late to prevent the guys from stumbling into a deadly ambush.

"I've got visual on a parked black SUV, a quarter mile ahead," Tempest called back to the others.

"Any sign of the men?" Dillon asked, gripping his rifle tight enough for his knuckles to show white.

The chopper slowed and lowered, allowing for a closer look at the rental car.

"No, sir."

"Shit." Dillon scrubbed his face with one hand. "They're already on the ground, snaking through the brush."

Night nodded. "It appears so." His gaze swung to Lark. "Get in camouflage now."

Lark swung her rifle into Ryan's hands, scurrying to tug on the black garb over her original bright clothing.

"Any suggestions on how to find them?" Ryan tossed out, feeling his stomach clench and ball up at the quickly deteriorating situation.

Rogue handed an item to Night. "Here. Heat seeking as well as night vision. They should help spot the good guys fast."

Taking the goggles, Night thrust them at Lark. "Track them and warn them what's up."

"Yes, sir."

"Dillon, find a nest and lay low."

The blond man nodded slightly, his eyes intent upon the ground.

"I'll stick with Lark," Ryan offered.

"No. I need you on the offensive with me. She'll find the guys. We'll have to move ahead, clear the way for the others."

"Count me in, too."

Night stared at the co-pilot. "You've done more than enough already, Rogue. Stay with Tempest in case the idiots try to take the chopper."

Tempest snorted. "I can defend my own chopper, thank you very much."

Rogue nodded in agreement, a frown on his face and his lips thin with determination. "I'm going in, with or without your permission."

"I owe you." Night answered, sincerely sharing a long look with the bulky man before digging through a couple of duffel bags, finding an assortment of weapons and passing them out. "Mostly small arms, but it'll have to do."

Five minutes later, Tempest lowered the hovering chopper, allowing all the occupants to jump out and onto the ground, rushing full out toward the waiting compound approximately a mile away. With no light and the quiet rotors, the group felt the distance adequate to ensure their safety while cutting the miles they had to cover in order to meet their comrades.

Before them stood a concrete single story vast warehouse, sprawling over bare land, isolated in the rural area. For all intents and purposes, the building appeared innocent and easily penetrable with only dim light showing through an east window. Two large warehouse doors on the south were closed, undoubtedly locked. No noise carried from inside. If Ryan didn't know better, he would assume the place nearly vacant, an easy target on a moonless light. Night's information and his prickling neck hairs told him different.

Pausing at the tree line, Lark pulled the goggles over her eyes and slowly rotated. "Got him." Without preamble, she sprinted off.

Ryan bristled, a wave of protectiveness washing over him, demanding he go with her, order her to the rear or even better, lock her back in the chopper where she would be safe until they managed to cut off and destroy another arm of the rampant illegal street drug business. He grappled with his natural instinct, needing his baby sister safe, yet understanding she loved the thrill and excitement of missions.

"I wouldn't have hired her if I didn't have complete faith in her abilities." Night's deep voice pulled his attention away from the petite figure surging over rocks and through shadows on her way to the backside of the moderate-sized compound.

"It's hard," Ryan confessed, releasing a deep sigh. While he served in the military with several women, none of them fought in the elevated ranks of the Army Rangers and certainly none stood on the front lines, weapon in place, prepared to give their life for the betterment of the world.