Running on Empty (20 page)

Bile surged again, and Sabrina lost it. Turning away, she threw up the small amount of water and energy bar she’d consumed for breakfast. Then, drawing her emotions back where they belonged, she backed out of the building. This man might be beyond help. That didn’t mean she couldn’t help someone else. 

Declan ran alongside McCall. Before they’d taken off, McCall had handed him his SIG Sauer—the one they’d taken away when LCR captured him. He had accepted the weapon, surprised he’d been allowed to assist with the raid. Considering everyone’s feelings, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d tied him to a tree until this was over. Not that he would have allowed that to happen. Never again would he be held hostage by anything or anyone. 

Their steps rapid but silent, both men approached their assigned building. McCall listened at the door, nodded his head. The room was occupied. He gently twisted the knob—locked. McCall said almost soundlessly, “I can knock it down. Can you follow through on your end?”

Declan gave an affirmative nod. For the first time in almost two years, he was doing something worthwhile. Just because his primary goal was to find the bastards who’d tortured him, the thought of actually doing some good made his blood pump with excitement. 

Backing up slightly, McCall kicked hard. The door splintered and, with a resounding crash, slammed to the concrete floor. Low to the ground, Declan peered into the room. Gunfire exploded. Declan jerked back. Voices, cursing and yelling in Spanish and English, spewed out. More gunfire followed.

McCall stood on one side of the door, Declan on the other. Knowing there might be victims inside made the job tricky. He’d like nothing better than to lay down a rapid-fire response. He couldn’t. He took a chance and peered around the door again. The guy was reloading, giving Declan the chance to get off a few more rounds. The man went down but returned fire as he made a fast crawl to an overturned table. The other man ran through a door on the other side, shooting as he tried to escape. 

McCall fired, hitting the running man in the shoulder. The guy dropped and then threw himself behind the same table. The two men, though both now wounded, barricaded themselves behind their cover and continued to fire.

His voice low and urgent, McCall said, “There’s a man—prisoner—lying in the corner. I can’t see anything but the back of his head. Can’t tell if he’s still alive. I need to get to him.”

“Go,” Declan said. “I’ll cover you.”

Declan didn’t wait for McCall’s agreement, just laid down steady fire at the two shooters. Staying low, the LCR leader stepped inside and raced to the other side of the room.

Totally focused on keeping the two gunmen busy, he still managed to see out of the corner of his eye that McCall was dragging the man toward the door. Guy was either unconscious or dead. One of the shooters noticed that, too. He rose up to take a shot at McCall. Declan fired, nailing the man in the head. 

The instant McCall had the man outside, Declan called to McCall, “I’m out.”

“Take this one.” McCall pulled a Glock from his thigh holster and threw it toward him. Declan easily caught it and started firing again. The shooter peeked out, and Declan finally got a good look at his face—one he saw in his nightmares.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

Whether the bastard recognized him or realized he had little chance of survival, Declan didn’t know. Taking advantage of Declan’s shock, the man disappeared into another room.

Declan followed.

Sabrina raced toward the building where gunfire had erupted. Declan was in that building. Halfway there, Riley’s voice, tense and urgent, came through her earbud. “Need assistance here.”

Torn but knowing her obligations, Sabrina switched directions and ran to the building Riley and Justin had been assigned. A few yards from the entry, gunfire exploded, spraying bullets in front of her. Sabrina looked up. A gunman on the roof had her in his sights. An instant later, the man tumbled forward and landed on the dry, packed earth. 

Knowing her partner had come through, Sabrina whispered, “Thank you, Aidan,” and continued through the door. She spoke into her mic. “Riley, I’m here. Where are you?”

“Basement. We’ve got a mess down here.”

“How many shooters are inside?”

“Thorne just took out the last one.”

Reassured but still wary, Sabrina walked into the room. This was apparently where most of the guards had spent their time. It looked like a regular office with desks, chairs, a coffee maker, and a small fridge. What looked like a brand new computer sat on one of the desks. Clean and neat—freakish, considering what these bastards did here. The two dead men lying in the middle of the floor definitely looked out of place.

Spotting an open door and a stairwell, Sabrina ran toward it. She was halfway down the stairs when the stench caught her, almost knocking her down. Gun still at the ready in her right hand, she held her left hand over her nose and mouth and kept running. What the hell was down there?

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Her imagination could never have come up with the horror. Five different cells held three to five men, all in the nude, all showing signs of malnutrition and hideous suffering.

“They’re all dead,” Riley whispered, horror in her voice. 

Sabrina glanced over at the young operative standing in the middle of the room. For the first time since she had known her, Sabrina saw something on her face other than her typical cool arrogance. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her mouth trembled with emotion.

Showing sympathy or compassion would help no one right now. “Where’s Justin?” Sabrina snapped.

Riley jerked, and then, as if realizing what she had revealed, that damn mask returned. “He’s in the back room.”

“You’ve checked all these bodies? You’re sure they’re all dead?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s go see what Justin found.” She headed toward the area Riley had indicated. The young operative’s solid, determined steps coming behind her was a reassuring sound. She had herself back together.

Justin had found more men. Sabrina managed to retreat from the horror without losing control of her stomach—but barely. Four men, again all nude, hung from the ceiling. The limp bodies and frozen features revealed their condition even before she checked each one for a pulse—they were dead, had been for a while.

“Hell,” Riley muttered. 

Sabrina headed to a cell at the end of the hallway. There she found Justin kneeling over a man on the filthy floor.

“What have you got?” Sabrina asked.

Without looking up, he muttered, “Tyndall.”

“Is he dead?”

“Not yet.”

Sabrina stepped closer and then stopped abruptly, seeing exactly what he meant. His face was so swollen and filthy, he barely looked human. “How’d you ID him?”

“Tattoo of his wife’s name on the left wrist.”

Setting aside her own pity, she said, “I’ll alert Noah. The helicopter can be here in minutes.”

Though Justin nodded, she could see the same doubt she was feeling. Would the guy even live long enough for that? Whether he survived or not, his family would want him back.

Sabrina headed out the door…the worry she’d successfully squelched now back in full force. Silence surrounded the entire area. All gunfire had ceased. Neither Declan nor Noah had spoken into their mics since the raid had started.

“Declan? Noah?”

“McCall here. Need you here ASAP, Fox.”

Heart pounding with dread, Sabrina raced up the stairway and ran out the door. She was halfway to the building when Noah shouted, “Over here, Fox.”

She turned at Noah’s voice. He was stooped beside a body.
No. No. No!
She was within a few feet when she realized the man’s hair was the wrong color for Declan. It had looked dark because of the blood. 

Dark eyes grim, Noah said, “He’s alive…barely. I’ve already called for transport.”

“Justin found Tyndall. He’s in bad shape but alive for now.” She looked toward the building, swallowed hard and asked, “Declan?”

Noah jerked his head toward the jungle. “He ran after one of them.”

She took a step and then heard a shot, far off in the distance. Her feet flying, she yelled over her shoulder, “Going after him,” and didn’t wait to hear her boss’s reply.

Chapter Sixteen

Sweat poured down Declan’s face, blood pumped hot and wild through his veins as he ran after his prey. They’d been at it for over an hour, but the bastard was tiring and was now within reach. At last he would get some answers. He told himself it didn’t matter if those answers confirmed Sabrina’s involvement. He had to know the truth, no matter the cost.

Clomping sounds, ten, maybe twenty yards ahead of him. He imagined he could hear the bastard breathing, gasping for breath. The asshole probably thought he had only minutes to live. Would he be relieved to learn that Declan didn’t intend to kill him? Probably not. Death would be much less painful than what he had planned. 

Declan increased his speed, plowing down tree branches and bushes like a bulldozer. He wouldn’t get away…he wouldn’t.

The bullet came from out of nowhere. Declan acknowledged the sting, but nothing, other than death, would slow him down. Adrenaline and the fierce need for vengeance blocked out everything else. At last, soon, he would know the truth.

Footsteps again. Big feet crashing through piles of ground vegetation. Tiny animals squealed, scampering to get away. Breath wheezed from the guy’s lungs. Oh, hell yeah, he was close. So…damn…close.

With almost no sound or warning, a giant body flew through the air. Declan turned to dodge a direct hit, landed sideways and was back on his feet in seconds, facing his opponent.

Damn, the guy was massive. He’d almost forgotten how large. At six-foot-five, few people towered over Declan. This creature was close to seven feet tall, well over three hundred pounds. From up close and personal contact, Declan knew the man’s fists were the size of hams. 

Even though sweat poured down his face and fresh blood stained the front of his shirt, the big idiot was grinning. “Never thought I’d get the chance to have at you again.”

“You’ll find I fight better when I’m not strung up.”

The grin got meaner. “That’ll just make the kill sweeter.”

The giant threw the first punch, missed Declan’s face by inches. Declan had the advantage of being quicker and better trained. Meat-Face, as he’d nicknamed the guy after their first brutal meeting, slammed another fist toward him with less skill than speed. At some point, the guy was going to tire himself out. Declan intended to let him, then he would strike.

As Meat-Face swiped another fist toward him, Declan studied the man—something he’d never had the chance to do before. An American—had a thick Jersey accent, but without the charm. And though accents could be faked, there was no good reason for him to pretend—especially now. 

The gleam in Meat-Face’s eyes said it all—he planned for this to be a death match. With a couple of exceptions, that suited Declan just fine. First, it’d be Meat-Face’s demise, not Declan’s. And second, death wouldn’t occur until he got the answers he’d come looking for. He’d waited a long time for this day.

Hidden behind a tall, leafy bush, Sabrina watched in silence. After the heart-plunging fear that Declan had gone off alone and she could lose him again, the scene before her was anticlimactic. Actually, it was almost comical. The man—she nicknamed him Brutus for lack of a better name—was oversized in every way. In this case, size didn’t necessarily count. Declan’s training, skill, and perfectly conditioned body gave him a huge advantage over Brutus. 

Relieved, she leaned against a sturdy tree and treated herself to a few minutes of relaxation and enjoyment.

The way Brutus kept swinging, it was obvious that his supersized body didn’t correlate to a larger brain or intellect. At some point, surely he would figure out that a change in attack was in order. But no, he kept swiping like he was swatting at bugs and had yet to make contact with any part of Declan’s anatomy. 

She knew her husband well. Brutus would eventually wear himself into a breathless, exhausted mess. Declan would pounce like a sleek panther and effortlessly bring down his prey.

A crackling in the bushes across the way caught her attention. Animal or human? Sabrina drew her gun. Declan must’ve heard it, too, and for a second, he was distracted. Brutus might be lacking in brain cells, but he was no fool. The instant Declan glanced away, Brutus slid a knife from the back of his belt and charged.

Shit!
Without any compunction, Sabrina shot him dead center between his eyes. Brutus fell forward like a hacked-down timber. Declan jumped out of the way and watched his opponent perform a face-plant in the underbrush.

Sabrina walked into the clearing. “That was close.” 

She hadn’t expected effusive thanks. As physical as Declan was, he would’ve wanted to take the man out another way. She never expected him to glare at her and snarl, “You double-crossing bitch. You killed him.”

“Excuse me?” Indignant, infuriated, she snarled back, “I saved your ass, you jerk.”

“No, you killed the man that had the information I needed. He was one of my captors. Beat the shit out of me almost daily. But that’s not news to you, is it, Sabrina? You knew he’d tell me the truth and implicate you.”

She wilted like a dead weed. Of all the freaking people to kill… Unexpected tears raced to the surface, and Sabrina closed her eyes to prevent their escape. Damned if she would let him see her vulnerability. Instead, she let her temper loose. “You idiotic, stubborn asshole. I had no idea who the guy was. He was about to plunge a knife into your gut. I saved your life.”

Declan took a step toward her, fury in his eyes. Sabrina stepped forward, too. She was tired of mollycoddling the jerk. He wanted to have it out? She was more than up to the task.

“Lay one hand on her, Steele, and you’ll wish that dead giant on the ground had finished you off.”

Aidan stood a few feet away. His Glock pointed directly at Declan’s chest.