Gambled - A Titan Novella (8 page)

Now, he didn’t even have a pair of tactical pants. He had on jeans, and his wife wore her longest pair of pants, white capris, and pink tennis shoes. At least he’d been able to secure a decent ride. The black Hummer sat waiting for them outside the resort’s front doors.

He put his hand on the passenger door handle, not opening the door. “You sure about this?”

Sarah gave a resolute head nod. “Yes, more than sure.”

Of course she was… This was an awful idea.

A yank of the door and a lift of his brunette bombshell, and he had her tucked into the passenger seat, giving Sarah her seat belt because it was about the only thing he could do to make this a safe adventure.

He jumped in and gunned it down the pocked road, swerving to miss livestock that wandered without fences and tree limbs that jutted onto the side roads he took toward their sketchy destination. Brock didn’t have one weapon on him. He hadn’t traveled with a sidearm. No stash of Titan accessories were packed in his bag. The only thing he’d nabbed was several steak knives from the restaurant on the way to the Hummer.

“Are you nervous?” Sarah pivoted toward him.

Nervous? No. Not a chance. He’d never been nervous a day in his life. But her little pink tennis shoe bopped on the floor board, and his gut checked his ego.

“Fuck, yes, angel. Nervous about describes how I’m feeling. I don’t like this.” He came to a stop in front of a shack.
That the right place?
It fit the description he was given. A short, dark-haired man stepped outside the thatched door, matching the specifics Jared had given him. Brock couldn’t see the scar on his face or the dead eyes that Jared had promised, but they were at the right location. “You stay in the car.”

Sarah swiveled in her chair, checking out the surrounding area. Thick, jungle vegetation. Very green. Very loud with the calls of birds and animals. The windows were darkly tinted, and no one could see in, but still, he didn’t want her seen.

Aw, shit. He rubbed his temples. What was the best he could offer right now?
Honey, take a steak knife?
Christ.

“I can jump out too. I’m not scared.”

She was probably terrified, but that
not scared
bit was for his sake. She attempted to comfort him. Great. Not feeling his role as a protector in any way right now.

“That’s not the point. Let’s keep you away from illegal arms dealers. For now.” He tried for a smile. A little joke. Something to lighten his mood, maybe make her smile. But it didn’t work on either account. “Lock the door. Back in a minute.”

Leaving Sarah in the running Hummer, hotel steak knife in her palm, did little to alleviate the grip of anxiety in his chest. The closer he drew to his arms-dealing friend, the better he could see the scar and the eyes. The man he was meeting with was typical. Familiar, almost. The type he did business with on the regular, but the familiarity didn’t change the fact that Sarah was in proximity and this whole situation didn’t work well for him.

“My man,” Brock greeted ole Dead Eyes.

Nothing said in return. Just a nod. Fine by Brock.
Let’s do this and blow this Popsicle stand.
The shack’s walls were mismatched pieces of plywood. The light came from the windows. The floor was dirt, and the table was rickety. But on that table—Brock smiled,—lay a selection of gorgeous gals. High-powered rifles. Swift-firing handguns. Gleaming with the love and care one could expect to see from a gun runner that Titan trusted.

“May I?” He gestured to the assault rifle outfitted with laser-sighting and a night vision scope.

Dead eyes nodded again, hand sweeping across the table. “The best of what I have for Titan.”

It hit him like a sucker punch. Each time he thought of Titan, it left him aching. “Appreciate it.”

His fingers glided over the weapon. Smooth. Solid. Brock grabbed it, ran through his check of parts and pieces. Loaded, unloaded. Tested the sight. Felt the balance. “This will work.”

He selected a few smaller guns that he could tuck into his waistband and secure around his thighs and grabbed their accompanying ammo. Boxes sat next to the table. “What’s in there?”

Dead Eyes nodded approval for him to lift the top.
Flashlights.
After bouncing several vague plans in Brock’s head about how he’d take on a house he’d never seen and had no schematics on, he hadn’t come up with much. But flashlights he could work with. He scooped several up and tucked them under his arm. “Think I’m good now.”

Dead Eyes had little to say but offered him an empty box to carry his new cargo. No telling who this man was, but he’d offered the best he had, which was pretty damn good, and Brock was indebted to him.

His plan formed into more vague details as he walked to the car and saw Sarah’s face shadowed in the window. What to do about Sarah. Looking into the box, Brock couldn’t picture any of the firearms shooting as simply as they did on television.

He turned around, caught Dead Eyes staring. “Do you have something… defensive? Point and shoot. Nothing fancy. Very reliable.”

Dead Eyes looked over Brock’s shoulder, toward the Hummer. The man raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and asked his question without saying a word.

“Yes.” Brock hated to admit Sarah sat in the vehicle. But he’d left it running, and Dead Eyes, for all he lacked in conversation, didn’t seem to miss a thing. “For her.”

Turning on bare heels, Dead Eyes walked to the back of the shack, and Brock followed. After opening a drawer then unwrapping a cloth, his gun dealer handed Brock a simple Glock. Ten-round capacity magazine. God willing, more than Sarah would never need. Lightweight. It would fit in her palm and had a reputation for high consistency—a trustworthy weapon.

“I owe you for this one.”

The corner of Dead Eyes’ mouth lifted. Maybe a grin. Maybe only an acknowledgement. “Be safe.”

That was the focal point of Brock’s quickly expanding plan. Save his marriage. Then rescue the girl. Now, keep safe his wife.

CHAPTER NINE

The last crack of the fiery sun sank over the ocean as Brock maneuvered farther away from the resort portion of Saint Lucia. It’d been a long day that wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. Brilliant, diamond-like stars painted the heavens, and it would’ve been ideal, driving down a winding road, Sarah grasping on to his hand, if they hadn’t been on their way toward his definition of hell.

Brock bet Mia would say his agreeing to bring Sarah onto the job had bad news written all over it. Mia would say he shouldn’t take his traumatized wife into a situation with guns and a kidnapped victim.
Anyone would say that, dumbass.
It didn’t take a therapist to know this adventure might be too close to what Sarah had just survived.

“I’m a crappy husband,” Brock grumbled and tried to ignore everything that Mia would say he was doing wrong.

“What? Romantic drive. Dinner under the stars.” Sarah squeezed his hand. “What’s not to love?”

Dinner, my ass.
He snagged protein bars and Powerades from a convenience store when they gassed up the Hummer. That was before he pulled over to an abandoned area and taught her the basics of point-and-shoot. Funny thing was, she got it the first time around. Not dead-center accuracy, but she held her own with a decent position and solid grip, and she understood his strategy for their job. Sarah had asked solid questions about their maneuvers and how to handle tactical adjustments.

“So…” Sarah let go of his hand and swiveled in her chair. Her seat belt stayed on, thank God. It was still the only decent safety measure that had gone into today’s plans.

“So?” Maybe she had cold feet. He could hide her somewhere near the trafficker’s house. Leaving Sarah armed and sitting in a ditch was far superior to bringing her into danger. Maybe Sarah’s nerves and panic were too much. He didn’t want her to experience another freak-out, but he would take advantage if the situation allowed it.

“If the girls and I come home—”

He gave a quick shake of the head. “You wanna talk about that?
Now
?” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He needed to focus on the job, on keeping Sarah safe. Then they could look toward the future.

She ignored him. “If we come home, I want to enroll the girls in a normal school like they are now. They’re enjoying it and thriving.”

“Glad to hear that, but this isn’t the best time to discuss schools.”

“Why not?”

“For one, we’re here.” He had driven up the road and back, pinpointing with a decent level of certainty the coordinates mapped by the Hummer’s GPS readout. “And second, you need to focus. We both do.”

Sarah stared out the tinted windows. They were surrounded by thick foliage on both sides of the road. “I don’t see anything.”

“There should be a house down that driveway. Maybe about a half mile back.”

“Oh.” Her voice faltered.

Hesitation.
That was his in. “Angel, why don’t you stay? Sit in the driver’s seat. I’ll get the girl. It’ll be easy. We’ll come out. You’ll be the getaway driver.”
That sounds adventurous, right?
Sarah could get her fix, be part of the rescue op, and Brock would have a better chance of her making it home without a traumatized breakdown. Hell, he’d have a better chance of her making it home alive.

“Can it, Brock.” Her arms crossed her chest. “I’m coming with you. You said you needed backup. That it’d be safer with a partner. I want to make this job safer for you. You’ve told me what to do, and I’m doing it. I can’t hide.” She glanced out the window and turned back. Her copper eyes were made of steel. “I won’t. It’s a deal breaker. Let me be part of this. Let me see you at work.”

At work?
Weeks ago, she’d had an idea of what he did but nothing concrete. Now she sat next to him, readying for an extraction. His shoulders sagged. The gravity of the evening’s events weighed on his chest, suffocating him. He’d gone along with this charade long enough. “No, this isn’t going to work. I can’t risk you. A million things can happen.”

“And you’ve explained how we handle those problems.”

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. The sweat dotting his temples had nothing to do with the island temperature. The reaction was one hundred percent nerves. “Then I won’t do this job—”

“Think we’ve already decided that you’re saving that teenager.”

Holy hell, they were going to do this. “You remember our plan?”

“Yes. You recited it a hundred times before we got here.”

Sitting less than half a mile from their extraction point, he would explain one hundred and one if he needed to. But she didn’t give him the chance. Unclicking her seat belt, Sarah popped open her door. Brock said a prayer and lumbered out his door, feeling the weight of the Hummer resting on his back. The stakes were too high.

He met her by the trunk to arm up. Sarah held her Glock, as instructed, then took her pile of flashlights.

The black night blanketed them. They had a few thousand yards between the Hummer’s location and their first assessment point. “Stay on my six.”

“Six?”

“My six o’clock. Behind me.”

“Behind you,” she repeated. “Just like we talked about.”

Yeah, he was repeating himself. She had listened. Of course she had. Sarah was smart. Sure wasn’t trying to get herself killed.

They pushed through the thick foliage. Tiny insects buzzed and crawled over them as he pushed toward the house. No complaints and no reactions from Sarah as she kept pace. By the time his eyes were accustomed to the dark, they were at their assessment spot.

Brock focused the binoculars. The two-story house was impressive but locally built. That was a bonus. Nothing caught his eye that would be considered high tech in the surveillance department. A basic six-foot perimeter fence wrapped around. A few security guards wandered inside, occasionally popping outside for a smoke break, but they acted as if they were taking it easy. All in all, it was a low-key, averagely protected bunker. Brock had infiltrated hardier buildings with tighter security measures.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He smeller her hair and whispered against her cheek, “Last chance, angel. Man the car? Let me do this alone?”

She must’ve remembered his strict instructions not to speak, and she shook her head.

Well, damn it.
Let’s do this.
“I love you.”

She nodded again.

All right then. She followed the rules, like he did more often than not. Time to get this mission moved into the done column.

He left her with the binoculars and checked the perimeter of the house to confirm his initial assumptions. Security was minimal. The trafficking group was relaxed, treating this house as a safe spot.
Definitely an advantage
.

Brock took Sarah’s hand in his, and they maneuvered until it was time to crawl across an open lawn. At his cue, she handed him her package of flashlights and then belly crawled to a row of air conditioning units.

He moved to the front door, set a remote charge, then ducked past a side door to a hedge line. After unbundling the flashlights and then a few laser-sighted scopes, he pushed them into the bushes, using the twigs and branches to hold each in place.