Red-Hot Santa (9 page)

Max looked across the circle to where Jax had asked the question.

Lenny rolled up the map. “No.”

“It was my understanding—”

“Understand this, Savage—plans change. But this one remains the same. We’re going in to get those targets out.”

Silence reigned as the group stared at Jackson; it appeared they were questioning his sanity when they should be questioning that of their leader.

Max stretched the tight kinks out of her neck. In the service, you were taught to follow. That was easy. Then again, the leaders were worthy of the honor.

Out here, in the private sector…well, while she didn’t have much to base her doubts on, neither did she know enough to feel comfortable putting complete faith in the man who’d essentially just dressed down Jax for insubordination.

“We need to tighten the circle,” Jax said next to her.

She looked at him in the dark. His eyes were luminous in the dim moonlight. He was so handsome she had trouble breathing. She nodded.

They had fifteen minutes to regroup before they advanced. They’d been given a crude layout of the main house inside the wall, along with two guesthouses, guard shack and storage units. The sleeping quarters of the main house was where their targets were being held.

Jackson brought together his team. Max had to agree with his choices; the five of them were by far the most competent of the group. The team listened intently, asked intelligent questions, were clear-eyed and focused. The others… She looked around. The others were in various states of distraction, stretching, running in place, trying to cover the fear they were so obviously experiencing, allowing it to control them instead of asserting control over it.

She glanced at Storehouse who spoke on a satellite phone phone, wondering who he was talking to and whether or not it had anything to do with backup should they need it.

“BEST HS.” That was the acronym she’d given to the team based on their names.

“What?” Jax had said incredulously when she’d shared the tidbit with him back at camp. “Bachman-Evans-Savage-Taylor-Hershey-Selznick,” she’d explained.

“And you?”

“What’s your shortcut?” she’d asked instead of answering.

“THE MOB.”

“No
S.
”

“Nope.”

“Selznick?”

“O’Selznick.”

She’d laughed. “Well, you didn’t include yourself either…”

Fifteen minutes later, their team within a team was set.

“Go! Go! Go!” Lenny called.

Max and Jackson went out first, as agreed, leading two-by-two with the only other female on their team, Taylor, bringing up the rear. One of Storehouse’s cockier rogue team members pulled out in front of them, doing his best impression of Rambo, while she noticed the others were perfectly content hanging back and allowing Jackson’s team to go ahead.

They reached the seven-foot wall. Max instantly picked up on sound: it appeared at least two men were talking on the other side.

She held up her hand to halt advance and to indicate they should split up and move farther down the wall in opposite directions. Unfortunately, Braden, aka Rambo, had other plans.

“Screw this…”

He scaled the wall.

Max stared at Jackson and they both hustled fifteen feet on either side of Braden’s position and then scaled to perch on top of the wall.

Automatic gunfire broke out. Max grit her teeth as she watched rounds disappear up Braden’s flack jacket and undoubtedly through his vest below. Then he took a couple to the head. She flinched as he slumped over and then fell over the wall.

It all happened within a blink and there’d been nothing she and Jax could do.

Now, however, was different story…

She opened up fire and so did he, taking out the two guards with minimal trouble.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn!

She gave the all clear to the men behind her and then jumped to the compound grounds.

Just in time to watch what looked like an entire battalion file out of a nearby building, weapons at the ready…

10

IT WAS A CLUSTER FUCK, pure and simple…

The instant they hit the ground, all hell broke loose. The compound had been much better manned than they’d been led to believe. Militia emerged from every shadow and appeared prepared for their arrival.

For a brief, paralyzing moment, all Jackson could think of was Max… He battled his way to cover, knowing there was nothing he could do for her if he was no longer there to do it.

Now, five agonizingly long minutes later, he hunched down behind a crude circle of stones that served as a water well, his M-16 reloaded and ready. He immediately spotted where Max was, standing across from him flat against the wall of an outdoor shower.

He knew such a flood of relief he took an unprecedented moment to close his eyes and send up a prayer of thanks. She was okay…

When he looked at her again, he found her face communicated the same sense of relief at finding him alive.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her now that he felt he’d just finally found her…

The thought alone was nearly paralyzing, not merely because of the physical threat the distraction posed but the emotional one.

Focus, Savage…

He scanned the area around him, taking in the situation. He couldn’t be sure where his other team members were, or how many had survived the initial counterattack.

Shit. What an unqualified mess.

He couldn’t help thinking they’d been sent in there like sacrificial lambs. Nothing was as it had been outlined. Intelligence was bad. And he was afraid the reason why the compound was so heavily fortified was because the warlord, the number one guy, was in residence, not one of his commanders, as they’d been told.

He’d learned early on in his career there were two things you needed in order to succeed in any mission: capable soldiers and accurate intelligence.

And they had neither. Yes, it was a clusterfuck. Pure and simple.

The question was, how were he and Max going to survive it?

He steeled himself and looked over the well wall, gauging the situation, then quickly ducked back down without incident. Five guards to the left, three to the right. He looked to see Max doing the same. Their gazes met. Then they both nodded.

They swung around at the same time, aiming and firing before taking cover again.

Two to the left, none to the right…

Max motioned that she was coming to him. He stood and delivered cover fire, taking out the remaining two.

Unfortunately, there were at least ten others somewhere on the compound…and those were only the ones he knew about. He could only hope none of them were behind them.

“This is messed up,” Max said, crouching next to him.

“Agreed.” He checked his radio: silent. Attempts to contact Storehouse were unsuccessful. “You see any of the others?”

“Taylor’s hit. She’s tying off a leg wound in the NW corner. She’s a sitting duck unless we can get her out of there.”

“We lost Davidson,” he said, nodding to his right.

She looked, taking in, as he had, the unnatural angle the man’s body had fallen, twisted and broken and devoid of life. He watched her blanch. “I say we fall back.”

He stared into her beautiful face, smeared with camo paint. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He had no intention of falling back. He did, however, want her to get the hell out of there.

“Liar,” she said.

He couldn’t help his smile.

“So what’s the plan…?”

MAX’S BLOOD RUSHED past her ears, her adrenaline running at levels she hadn’t experienced in years, not since leaving Afghanistan, where she’d been stationed after Iraq, two years ago.

Three of their original team members found their way to them and radio contact with Lenny was finally established. Jackson filled him in on the situation. Max listened intently for his response, which, for all intents, should be to order them to fall back.

“Push on, Savage,” was the order, instead.

Max’s trigger finger itched with the desire to shoot someone other than hostiles.

What was she talking about? Lenny was a hostile.

They’d already pow-wowed with the four remaining uninjured members, got Taylor over the wall and to safety, and then decided they were all in. Now they had to rework the original strategy and get those hostages out.

Within minutes, they each had their plans and split up, aware that around every corner lay the potential of running into guards.

“Wait!” she called, catching sight of something.

Everyone double-timed back.

“There,” she said, pointing to the northeast guesthouse some hundred yards to their right.

It had seemed strange to her that a counterattack hadn’t been made against them. Now she understood why: the compound guards had been moved to protect that guesthouse.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a time clock ticked down. There was little doubt calls had been made and reinforcements were even now on their way. They had maybe five minutes to do what needed to be done and get out of Dodge.

“Odds are good they’re being held in there,” Jackson agreed.

“Could be the warlord.”

He shook his head. “No. A number of guards also went into the main house, which means there’s someone there, as well.”

She considered him for a long moment. “Should we split up? Hit both?”

He shook his head. “No. Too risky. This is a one shot deal.” He looked at the others. “I say we make a run on the guesthouse.”

The others immediately agreed.

Of course, deciding to go that route was more easily said than done. Of the three structures, it was the most difficult to reach. There was no cover. It was all open territory between here and there.

Which was another reason it was most likely that’s where the hostages were being held.

“Okay, here’s the plan…” Jackson said.

WHILE HERSHEY AND EVANS focused on taking out the visible guards, he, Max and Bachman advanced in an uneven pattern, keeping an eye out for snipers. Selznick stayed near the wall where they would make their escape, providing any needed cover. By the time they reached the front of the two-story structure, the three visible guards had been taken out, and a fourth slumped forward from his hidden position just inside the open doorway. That coup had been compliments of Max, who must have spotted him a moment before Jackson had.

He and Max flanked the open door, while Bachman went around the back, followed by Evans and Hershey who continued to provide cover fire as they joined them.

Jackson nodded and then rushed the door at the same time Max aimed her weapon inside to provide any needed cover. They switched off like that three additional times, verifying there were no others on the first floor. They both looked up the stairs…

Evans joined them inside, leaving Hershey and Bachman at the front and back entrance.

“Cover me,” Max said.

She began climbing the stairs and Jackson and Evans aimed their weapons farther up, following after she was five steps up. They reached the second landing to find it empty.

Damn…

“Check ’em!” Max ordered.

One by one they checked all the rooms to find them empty.

Nothing.

No guards.

No warlord.

No hostages.

They double-timed it back out just as a series of Jeeps roared out of an unconnected garage near the front of the compound, nowhere near any of the three structures they’d been given to check.

“Let’s get out of here,” Max said next to him.

He couldn’t have agreed more.

Of course, that decision proved to be as complicated as any they’d made thus far. As the convoy no doubt holding the hostages sped out, another set of vehicles sped in.

Gunfire spit at the ground at their feet.

“To the back!” he shouted.

He led the group through the empty house to the rear door. The containment wall lay twenty yards behind it. If they could make it there, they could scale it and be out, ordering Selznick to follow from his position farther up the wall.

The sound of gunfire filled the air.

He ran, blindly aiming his M-16 and shooting back, aware of Max doing the same on the other side of him. Evans took a direct shot and fell face first to the ground. Max instantly stopped and crouched, spraying their advancing enemy even as she checked their fallen team member. Jackson was pretty sure the man had taken it to the vest and was satisfied he would be okay when he awkwardly got to his feet with Max’s one-armed help. Jackson provided cover fire as the others boosted Evans up and over the wall, then each of them followed.

Gunfire spit up the side of the wall, spraying cement fragments at him as he finally went over.