Extreme Honor (20 page)

C
ruz stood with his back to the wall in the room they used for on-site veterinary needs, Atlas sitting at his side. The old dog was seeing the inside of this room more often than most of their canines did. All things considered, though, Atlas was in good shape and practically trembling to go into action.

So was Cruz, but they needed to know where they were going and what they were getting into first.

“How do you want to handle this?” Forte leaned against the examination table, currently not in use. Might be before all this was over but thankfully, it wasn't yet. If that ex-SEAL had stopped to take a steadier shot, Atlas might've been hit.

Heat coursed through Cruz's veins, pushing at his already frayed control. Thinking on the possibilities didn't help his temper. Wherever Lyn was, she probably wasn't out of reach yet but every minute could be taking her farther away.

“We can't take much time before we really do notify the local authorities.” Rojas threw in his two cents from his seat on the one stool in the room. “We need to stay clean from a lawful point of view if we want to look at this guy through bars and us on the right side of 'em.”

“We need to know where Lyn is, what kind of head count we're dealing with at the location, anything useful for safe extraction, and anything additional the shithead knows about Calhoun.” Cruz paused. “In that order. Lyn takes priority.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Every minute counts for Lyn.” Cruz wasn't just pointing out the obvious in a kidnapping situation. Every second ticking by wound him up tighter and tighter with the need to go out and do something to help her, to get her back. Atlas was no different, taking in all the actions around him, watching with an air of impatience. Cruz got the impression the big dog was evaluating how every action was taken. Right now, they were moving too slowly.

But they needed to approach with a strategy in mind; otherwise they could do more harm than good to Lyn and to themselves and the people who'd miss them. Like Boom and Sophie.

“Question goes back to you.” Forte faced Cruz.

Cruz thought hard. Lyn was his and Forte would take his lead on this. What he was about to do was for Lyn and she wouldn't thank him, or forgive him, for becoming a monster to save her from monsters. If he could find a better way, one that would leave their consciences clean—or at least not scar them any more than they already were—it'd be best to try.

“We mess with his head first.” Cruz put some force behind his words, as if sounding confident about it would make it the right choice. Sometimes it did. “He's not the brightest light bulb out there for sure. Say the right thing and he'll sing.”

“You sure?” Forte's gaze had gone cold, flat. “Mind games are the way you want to go?”

Uglier, more direct options hung in the air between them.

“We'll get the most accurate information out of him this way, not just what he thinks we want to hear.” Truth. Plus there was the question of Cruz's temper. This course of action gave Cruz the best control over the situation. “We try to soften him up any and I might be tempted to go too far.”

His anger simmered right now, coiled and waiting, familiar. The stranger he'd locked away within himself had been coming closer to the surface of his mind through this whole ordeal. Compartmentalization bullshit. The driving need to go find Lyn was all that saved the man they had in custody from being beaten to within an inch of his life, or worse. Cruz had done it before and even if he already hated himself for it back then, he would do it now if it weren't for Lyn. Everything he was doing and
how
he was going to do it was because he had her in his life now.

Because without her, there wasn't a good enough reason to keep trying to be someone other than the stranger he used to be.

“Beckhorn found the man's service record and sent it over.” Cruz owed Beckhorn big for the favor, too. It'd be worth it. “There's a few things in there to leverage.”

“That was fast. Beckhorn hasn't lost his touch.” Rojas snagged the printout off the examination folder. His eyebrows raised after only a few seconds of skimming. “Yeah, this asshole is easy.”

“This isn't just about Lyn.” Forte crossed his arms. “The shithead tailed Sophie, too. And we have Boom to worry about. Whatever we do to get the info we need, this guy goes away where he can't hurt any of them anymore. That means we call the police. We can't delay any longer without opening ourselves up to scrutiny and giving this guy loopholes when he has his day in court. If you think you can do this, do it now while I put in the call. We'll be on a countdown.”

Last time they'd had to call in the police, it'd taken half an hour or so to respond. Not a lot of time.

Cruz blew out a breath. “It'll be enough. Any more than that and you two will have to stop me from getting physical anyway.”

To say he had a short fuse was probably a message from Captain Obvious.

Forte straightened and headed for the door leading to the main house. “Let's get to it then.”

Cruz strolled into the kennel where they'd tied up their man with Atlas on a short leash at his side. The streaming video from cameras on this side of the run would show a cut-off time coinciding with shots fired. Completely believable to say a stray bullet had taken out the security feed.

The guy was covered in sweat and obviously frustrated by his inability to get free of the binding keeping him in the metal chair. All he'd managed to do was tip himself over on the concrete floor. For once, Cruz regretted how clean they kept their kennels. He wouldn't have minded if the guy managed to roll himself in some crap.

They'd all suffered worse.

“Neal Evans. You've really lost your edge, man.” Cruz decided to start out conversational but he didn't have to be nice. “You're ex-Navy SEAL. Maybe it's been too long since you got through SERE training.”

Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. Any special tactics personnel would have been required to go through some level of SERE training prior to selection.

“Fuck you.” The answer carried a whole lot of ire.

Good. Forte, Rojas, and Cruz were all special tactics, too. Every one of them had pitched in to make sure Evans wasn't getting loose before they were ready. Cruz personally wasn't sure he could even get out of those bindings on his own. Well, not in the short time they'd taken to converse and decide on a course of action.

Give a man enough time and anything was possible.

“Ah well, we could've given you more time, Evans, but we're running low on patience.” Cruz strode over and yanked the chair back to an upright position. If the guy's head snapped up at the sudden movement, not a big deal.

“I'm not telling you anything.” Evans was sucking air through his mouth, his breathing labored.

Cruz took a good look at the guy's face. Evans might've tipped the chair over and used his nose to break his fall. Maybe. It didn't appear to be broken. “I think you will. It'd be your best shot at getting clear of all this with a chance at a live.”

“Ha!” The bark of laughter made Atlas lift his lips in an answering snarl. The man's gaze darted from Atlas to Cruz back to Atlas and he sobered up quick. “I've got a sweet retirement parachute set up for me. Golden. You can't touch me.”

Cruz tipped his head toward the man. “Thing about golden parachutes, they're not actually good for saving your life. In the last few minutes, you've managed to make yourself a very visible inconvenience.”

Evans gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut.

Ah, but not for long. “Police are on their way. See, my partner's kid lives here and with the trespass just last week the police aren't likely to think this is unrelated. There'll be a lot of questions. I don't think it'll be easy to convince a judge to allow bail. All things considered, I'm pretty certain your employers will consider you expendable.”

“No fucking way.”

Yup. Barely any poking and the man was already back to responding. Even if Evans planned to keep his mouth shut, he was one of those guys who couldn't.

“You've demonstrated you're sloppy enough to be made tailing a target. Or didn't you mention our little meeting in New Hope to them?” Cruz shook his head. “Never keep things from Big Brother. You never know who he's got watching you while you watch someone else.”

Beady eyes widened a fraction then narrowed. “You're trying to mess with my head.”

Yes. But why lie when the truth was so handy? “You've also trespassed on private property in broad daylight with a weapon in hand, opening fire. All captured on security feed. How much do we want to bet your employers are going to consider you too stupid to live?”

“I know too much for them to just leave me out here.” Too stupid just gave an excellent reason for why he wasn't likely to live much longer.

Cruz nodded. “Yeah. And your face is nice and clear in the video I've recovered, too. You know, the one you've been convinced Evelyn Jones was going to find eventually.”

“Bitch will give up the video. Probably already has.” Evans sneered.

Cruz clenched Atlas's leash in his fist. “She doesn't know anything, doesn't have the video. But I do and I'm here. I also know what to do with it, whereas she wouldn't.”

“Trade then.” Evans rolled his head in a stretch. “Give me the video and let me loose, I'll make sure you get the girl back.”

This time, it was Cruz's turn to laugh. And he did. “There you go overestimating your value again. I already spelled it out to you. You're expendable. I could trade the video alone for Evelyn Jones, no issue. Don't even need to mention your name.”

Actually, it'd be best for Evans if Cruz didn't but he doubted Evans would see it that way.

“You need to let me go. I can contact the people who have your girl. Faster than you can track them down. I can arrange for the trade.” The desperation was growing in Evans's tone as he started to believe Cruz.

“There's a lot of men featured in this video. You all decided to bring Atlas here into the interrogation, use him to terrorize your prisoner. None of you thought to check to see if the camera on his harness was still capturing video feed. The camera caught your faces.” Cruz shook his head. “Unfortunate.”

For Calhoun it had been, once he'd found the feed. The entire SEAL team had been in on the interrogation, listened to a man beg for his life and offer something none of them could resist in the moment.

And Calhoun had never made it home to get the video to the right people. It could mean the end of careers for several of them. Some of them deserved it, like this dirt bag. For others, it wasn't so clear, like Harris. Cruz was beginning to understand how alone Calhoun must've felt trying to decide what to do.

In the end, Calhoun had tried to do the right thing and they'd let him die for it.

“Look. We cut a deal, okay? Prisoner wanted the same man dead as we did. It coincided with orders. We did nothing wrong. We just secured a side agreement with the prisoner. It'll make us all rich in another couple of years. The new company's going to get started soon. The prisoner we set loose is the leader of his group and he's giving us exclusive contracts as soon as we're all out and ready to go private.” Evans lifted his chin. “You're out now. You ever consider going into the private sector? There's going to be big money contracts with this outfit. Immediate money to be making.”

And have this snake at his back? Pass. “I'm not thinking too far in the future right now. I'm just interested in a trade and I'm still not convinced you even know where to find my girl.”

“I do!” Evans leaned forward. “We've been using some warehouses down on the Philly waterfront as a base of operations. They were only supposed to retrieve the dog but when she got in the car, too, our guys took her along. When the dog got loose, I was sent to clean up the loose end.”

And what would they do with Lyn?

“But you don't have the dog. I do.” Cruz didn't dare let his concern for Lyn show on his face.

Evans didn't seem to notice. “Yeah. But they can't have gotten all the way to the warehouse yet. I can call them.”

“Or you could give me the number and I can call them.”

Evans scowled. “No fucking way.”

Well, Evans was caught up in the possibilities of a trade but he wasn't quite out of his mind.

Cruz kept the pressure going. “How many times do I need to explain to you how very expendable you are?”

“Look. You give me the video and whatever the hell it was stored on, then I'll give you everything you need to know about your girl. Where to find her, who's there. Everything.” Evans coaxed. “If you give me the video, I can take it back to my bosses and everything will be right again. You can even keep the dog.”

Cruz hadn't planned to structure another course of action on the fly, but he hadn't anticipated Evans being stupid enough to think Evans was going to remain valuable to this group either. They'd already been using Evans as their fetch and carry man. Somehow, the man still thought he was going to be in on the full deal whenever it came to fruition. This was an opportunity to make a trade for information that'd be way more accurate than what might come out of coercion.

Time was short. And if Cruz managed things correctly, the video would still end up in the hands of the authorities. If he worked this right, he could get to Lyn, too—hopefully in time. Calhoun would agree Lyn's life came first.

“Deal. You tell me everything I need to know first, then I'll give you the video. Start with the exact location of where they took Evelyn Jones and how many men are there.”

A
pproaching the warehouse in question hadn't been as much of a challenge as Cruz had initially thought it'd be. Once he'd gotten the location from Evans, it'd been a matter of driving close enough to park his car out of sight and approach on foot.

Pedestrian traffic in the area had been easy to blend into and there were plenty of tiny side streets to duck into as they'd gotten closer. Now, there were just old crates stacked up in a maze between them and the warehouse itself.

He'd waited in the shadows to observe as long as he dared, figuring a man and a dog caught the eye much more readily among normal pedestrians. Taking a moment now to be sure they hadn't been watched on approach could make the difference between bringing Lyn home and none of them getting out of there at all.

Atlas had settled down to wait next to Cruz, the big dog's shoulder barely touching Cruz's left leg in a heel position to keep Cruz's strong-side clear. Atlas's behavior was sliding more into the working attitude he'd been trained to adopt when out on a mission. No suspicious movement in or around the warehouse and no sign of anyone coming to investigate either of them.

Both of them were embracing old habits better suited to action than to civilian life.

In situations like this, Cruz wasn't going to regret it. Of course, he hadn't missed the hurry-up-and-wait aspect. Moving at the right moment was key. But recognizing the difference between patience and paranoia became better with practice and got rusty with disuse. His timing had to be on point today.

He proceeded forward, keeping to cover as much as possible and taking calculated glimpses of the warehouse and its surroundings. The more he was able to see of it, the more likely someone was going to be able to spot him. Taking a full circuit around the building from a distance gave him a chance to choose his entrance and determine whether there were eyes on it.

Atlas paused suddenly—rigid stance, his head up and weight forward—the dog's attention directly ahead of them. His big ears had swiveled forward, catching sound too faint for Cruz to hear yet. Atlas had detected another human approaching, blocks away from normal foot traffic. The only people wandering this area were the ones he was looking for or predators of the streets. Based on information from Evans, accurate thus far, it was more likely to be one of a couple of guards on the perimeter of the warehouse area.

Taking on a guard alone would be a challenge. If the other man spotted him approaching, an alarm could be sounded before Cruz could subdue him. A one-on-one, straight fight would take too long and potentially leave Cruz damaged. He couldn't afford to take every guard head on, by himself.

But Atlas was too fresh from overseas, the dog's rehabilitation incomplete. Atlas hadn't yet been retrained to bite to break instead of his fiercer combat training, bite to kill. Here, on US soil, Cruz didn't want to risk Atlas killing a man.

Torn, Cruz looked down at the dog, considering. Atlas gazed back up at him, waiting for a command. What he saw in the dog's eyes wasn't the ready eagerness of 100 percent obedience. Here, now, Atlas was waiting to see what he would do.

Lyn's safety, possibly her life, hung in the balance and trust had to begin with trust. There wasn't time to wait for human backup and he had a partner right here with him, if he could time things right. Take the lead in this partnership and make himself understood.

Dropping Atlas's leash, Cruz crouched low and murmured a command he'd never taught Lyn to use with Atlas. “
Reviere
.”

Atlas sprang forward and streaked around the corner. Cruz darted to the left and around stacked crates, listening as he did. Moving as quickly and safely as possible to circle around, Cruz pied the next corner in order to give himself a chance to bring his weapon to bear and got his eyes on the target as Atlas came around on the other side.

It was the perfect opening and critical moment. Cruz charged forward as the other man began to lift his weapon to take aim on Atlas, oblivious to the danger from behind. Before the man could fire, Cruz threw his left arm around the man's neck in a choke hold and brought up his right arm to throw off the man's aim.

Atlas streaked across the remaining distance and leaped up, taking the man's right arm in his jaws. The man dropped his weapon as the dog's momentum took them all to the ground in a nearly silent struggle. But Cruz's choke hold was tight and in moments the other man's struggles weakened as his air supply was cut off.

A dog like Atlas could exert something close to triple the bite strength of a human. Once the other man began to go slack, it was time to stop the dog before he broke the man's forearm.

“
Los
.” Cruz scowled when Atlas didn't release the man. The dog wasn't throwing his head back and forth to rip and tear, but Atlas wasn't letting go either. Cruz stared into Atlas's eyes, refusing to let go of the man between them.

Atlas stared back.

Cruz set his jaw and it wasn't anger but determination that filled him. Drove him. There wasn't time for this. Lyn didn't have time for this. “
Los
.”

Something changed in Atlas's stare. The challenge in his eyes flickered out, a decision made, and the big dog released the man.

Laying the poor bastard down on the pavement, Cruz reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few zip ties to bind and some duct tape to cover the man's mouth. Securing any guards as he took them out was better than having them come after him again if they came to. And he didn't plan to kill if he didn't have to.

Picking up Atlas's lead, Cruz straightened and ran his hand along Atlas's flank. “
Braafy
.”

Good dog.

With one man down, he needed to move even more quickly. It'd be just him and Atlas. Both Forte and Rojas were holding down the fort back at the kennels—Forte handling the police report and their intruder, Rojas seeing to his daughter as she came home from school. Both would be following to provide backup as soon as he could but it was a toss-up as to which of them could get free first.

He couldn't afford to wait. The situation wasn't optimal but he and Atlas needed to move quickly.

Cruz studied the warehouse and a door tucked away in an alcove set in the side of the building. Security camera was hanging by a hinge and obviously not operational. Could be the best entry point.

He headed for the entrance, pausing to hug the wall and study a large ventilation grate in the same alcove. Cover was rusted almost completely off. The ventilation shaft behind it was big enough to accommodate a full-grown man. But hell, he was heavy. Atlas might be lighter than his German shepherd counterparts but the dog wasn't tiny either. The two of them in a rusted-out metal shaft were not going to get far without making a shit-ton of noise. They were not ninjas.

But he didn't have to pass it by completely. Taking out his pocketknife, he pried the cover the rest of the way off and set it on the ground against the opening to the ventilation shaft.

Then he and Atlas stepped over to the door.

They stayed to one side and listened. Atlas sniffed along the bottom edge. No sign of danger around or on the other side. No indicators from Atlas that there was either person or improvised explosive device waiting to surprise them.

And Atlas would've scented either.

It took more precious minutes to quietly pick the lock. Not his favorite activity but luckily it was a simple one, old and not particularly secure. This entrance had definitely been overlooked while the hostiles were securing the location.

Once inside, Cruz eased the door closed behind them and immediately took them to one side to crouch under the cover of a set of stairs. He drew in a breath, deliberate and slow. The air was musty, thick with dust and stale. No one had opened any windows or doors on this level for a sufficient length of time to ventilate the place.

What he could see of the warehouse's ground level was covered in more dust. It was a wide open space with random clutter along the outer walls. No places to hide and no places for hostiles to pop out and surprise him.

Atlas turned his nose upward, sniffing, and his big ears swiveled as the big dog studied the ceiling. Cruz strained hard to identify whatever Atlas was hearing in the quiet stillness.

It wasn't complete silence, though. Now that he knew to listen more closely, there was a faint murmur coming from above. Not loud enough to identify voices or what was being said, only enough to recognize the rhythm of conversation.

Up they would go.

Cruz unhooked Atlas's leash. Inside the warehouse with all the crap scattered everywhere, the leash could snag and it'd be best to let Atlas go ahead to react as necessary. In the meantime, letting the big dog loose freed up both of Cruz's hands.

The two of them proceeded out from under the cover of the stairs and along the near edge of the room. Atlas was ranging forward, the way he'd been trained, nose to the ground and weaving back and forth in a snakelike path. Every few steps, the big dog would lift his head to catch any target odors in the air before returning his focus to the floor.

For his part, Cruz scanned the room and listened hard as he followed Atlas. Once they reached the far wall, Cruz put his back to the wall and considered their options for going up to the next level: stairs or a freight elevator.

Thus far, they'd managed not to pause in hallways, doorways, or windows. Riding up in an elevator was asking for attention and unless they both could climb out quickly, it was a kill box. Stairs weren't easy either. In his experience, stairs were where men died.

Cruz approached the foot of the stairs and listened hard, peering up into the darkness. Atlas wasn't any more enthusiastic but both of them could hear the murmurs of conversation more clearly.

Atlas gave a low, eager whine with an upward lilt, his head slightly tilted.

Up was where Lyn was.

A trickle of relief flooded through Cruz. Atlas must've recognized Lyn's voice among the murmurs. The eagerness would only be for her. She was still alive and able to talk then. Which meant she was conscious. Hopefully, she wasn't hurt.

Hang on, Lyn. We're on our way.

They were halfway up the stairs when Atlas froze again, his posture tense. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbled in the big dog's chest. Another guard approaching.

For the second time, Cruz gave Atlas the command to search out a human target.

“I'm guessing you're not going to share the full scope of your nefarious plans with me.” Actually, she was torn between wanting to know what could possibly have possessed her stepfather and being too disgusted with his involvement to listen.

He shook his head. “The more you know, the less likely it'll be possible to convince my business partner to let you move on with your life.”

“Promises to forget everything I've seen so far aren't believable either, huh?” Rolling her eyes might be too much attitude.

Talking was good. Drawing things out. Buying time. And well, this was probably the longest conversation she'd ever had with her stepfather.

Her stepfather sighed. At least that was familiar. “Don't insult either of us by playing stupid. Sarcasm will only shorten what patience I have.”

Zuccolin snorted.

Jones slanted an irritated look at the other soldier. “Isn't it about time for you to check in with the rest of your team, Sergeant?”

Zuccolin stiffened but walked away, his footsteps striking the floor in measured cadence. Only marginally comparable to a toddler sulking and stomping his way out of the room.

“America's finest?” She raised her eyebrow at her stepfather.

No. She hadn't caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Had she? Nah. “All this for a choppy video hidden on a dog?”

“The problem with any shred of evidence is that it is still evidence.” Her stepfather strode over to a window and gazed out. “However, the canine is not the only reason we are here or even the primary objective. I placed what should have been sufficient resources on surveillance in order to ensure the dog would present no threat to our plans.”

“Sufficient might not be the correct term.” She bit her lip.

He turned and glared at her. “Over the years, you have made antagonizing me an art form. I assure you, it's not as effective a tactic as you might believe.”

“Force of habit.” Keeping her responses shorter might be wise but she was running out of conversational cues.

He huffed. Then he continued to talk, surprisingly. “I've had interviews with several local candidates. There's a land-bound military ship just over the bridge in New Jersey used as a training and testing facility. Many IT contractors with appropriate security clearances have gained relevant communications experience there but are dissatisfied with the temporary nature of their contract work. They're looking for more exciting projects with better pay. Not a single one of them displayed the nimble intelligence you exercise just to deliver a witty comeback.”

A compliment. Sort of. “I'm guessing social interaction wasn't exactly a part of any of their skill sets either.”

Her stepfather tipped his head to one side, considering. “Enough to communicate in a professional capacity, but you make a valid point. Cultural fit isn't a high priority in our search but perhaps it should be. The teams we're assembling will be isolated on occasion.”

“And you have to be able to trust the men who are supposed to have your back.” David had taught her that.

Jones frowned.

Oh, had she said that last bit out loud? Maybe. Though Captain Jones had always seemed to read her mind as a teenager. She'd like to think her adult mind was less transparent but around him, the temptation to succumb to petty immaturity was about as irresistible as a chocolate cupcake with fudge frosting and salted caramel.