Pleasing Her SEAL(29)

       

The Zodiac flew over the calm surface of the lagoon, coming in fast and  hard. The nose ran up on the sand; the SEAL at the motor easing up just  in time to avoid beaching. Spray kicked up as the boat came to a  temporary halt.

Gray signaled the go and Mason joined the others in running across the  sand. Levi ran like a damned gazelle and not like a man with fifty  pounds of explosives strapped to his back. Lips peeled back, Levi's eyes  lit up as his adrenaline started pumping. His buddy lived for this  shit, and the chance to blow Santiago's hidey-hole up would be the  cherry on the mission sundae. They piled in, grabbing on to pontoon  lifelines as their driver reversed hard and took them out to sea.

Eight minutes later, they approached the waiting Navy vessel. The Black  Hawk waiting on deck was their ride. Sigma Team would be one of two  six-man squads. Gray had brought a replacement for Remy and, after a  quick round of meet-and-greets, they piled into the chopper and lifted  off. Once they were outbound, they went over the forecasts, running  through the expected weather, sunrise and tide times.

Gray passed around a photo of Santiago for a double-check of their  target and Mason committed the face to memory. Santiago's picture was  followed by more pictures of known bodyguards and house servants. Like  the rest of the team, he'd already memorized the descriptions of who did  what. Santiago wouldn't escape capture by pretending to be someone he  wasn't, and the SEALs wouldn't accidentally take down the wrong man.

Levi eyed the approaching jungle cautiously. "You think they got snakes down there?"

Mason flicked him a glance. "You want me to lie to you? Or you want to just shoot anything that slithers?"

Levi shuddered. "I'll take that as a hell yeah. And yes, please."

"You got it." He peered out at the approaching compound. "Almost showtime."

Levi whistled. "Santiago's squatting in a goddamned palace."

The place did look pretty good. Since they were flying low, barely  skimming the treetops to stay under any possible radar, their current  view would have been a Realtor's wet dream. In the predawn light, the  walls protecting Santiago's privacy were lit up with enough wattage to  ensure no one got close without Santiago's guards spotting them. The  house was two stories with lots of windows and wrought iron French  balconies. The Marcos brothers hadn't skimped on the square footage,  either, although jungle real estate probably came cheap. According to  the plans Mason had reviewed, the mansion was eight thousand square  feet. It had two pools, four guesthouses and a ten-car garage that  housed a sweet collection of armor-plated Humvees. Cutting off  Santiago's access to that particular escape route would be a pleasure.

The teams needed to get in and out quickly, because this op was  happening without official sanction. The Belizean army didn't want to  know what went down here, so this was a stealth operation.

"Status," Gray said into his headpiece. He listened briefly, then flashed the team a thumbs-up. "We're a go. Stand by."

The Black Hawk descended rapidly over the compound to the garage as the  team moved into position. The bird had been modified to make a quiet  descent. The crewman tossed the rope out of the open door. Gray went  down the line first. After counting to three, Mason followed. The closer  they went out the door, the faster they all made it to the ground.  Grabbing the rope between his gloved hands and boots, he rode it down  like a firehouse pole, the soles of his feet inches above Gray's head.  The only thing standing between him and a brutal ground landing was his  ability to hang on.

The next three men would be right behind them, moving equally fast  because they'd be vulnerable to small-arms fire and Santiago's security  while they were on the rope. The rope spun through his gloved hands as  the chopper moved slowly forward, dragging the rope. Gray dropped away.  Mason counted to two and then let go. The impact vibrated through his  body, but he was already weapons up. Ten seconds later, drop complete,  the entire team advanced toward the mansion. The house was still quiet.  The second squad fanned out to cover the exit points with a 360-degree  security perimeter. If Santiago tried to make a run for it, they'd hit  him hard.                       
       
           


       

Levi dropped away to play with his gadgets. He'd rig the garage to  blow, the explosion providing a useful decoy. And fun. Blowing stuff up  was always satisfying, and Santiago hadn't earned the toys he had parked  inside the garage.

Levi popped out of the shadows, moving lighter. "Five minutes to boom time."

"Move in," Gray ordered. "Let's go find our boy."

Breaching the compound was the work of seconds. The front door wasn't  locked-stupid bastard-and there were plenty of first-floor windows. The  two bodyguards by the front door went down almost silently, clearly not  expecting company. Muzzle up, Mason stepped inside behind Gray, sweeping  the area with the barrel of his M4.

The plan called for them to sweep the house room by room and secure it.  With the first two guards down, the entry was clear. Diego and Santiago  lived like kings. Marble tiles lined the palatial entryway beneath a  crystal chandelier like one he'd seen in the Liberace Museum in Vegas.  He'd bought his mom a little version to hang over her dining room table.  She'd have liked this one.

Gray motioned and they took the stairs. Gunfire erupted right as the  garage went, the shock wave rocking the larger building. The chandelier  bit the ground in an explosion of crystals. Good thing they hadn't been  standing there. Mason made a mental note to earthquake-proof his mom's  piece. Gray signaled for Levi and Mason to cover the left, and he and  Sam moved toward the bedroom on the right.

According to the building plans, the bedrooms were located on the  second level. Better yet, the first door they busted open turned out to  be the mother lode. Not only was the room full, but the lights were on  as the occupants reacted to the sound of gunfire and the explosions.

And...damn it. "We've got nonthreats," he said in low tones into his  mouthpiece. Muzzle up, he stepped inside and surveyed. Two women and  four-no, five-kids. He'd almost missed the little girl hiding under the  table. The minute he and Levi came in, the kids started crying and one  of the females came out swinging. Maybe she thought they'd go for the  kids, but that was a line he'd never crossed and never would. Mason  subdued her, pinning her arms behind her and whipping out his zip ties.  "Cálmate," he growled against her ear. "No quiero hacerte daño."

Or maybe she was a decoy, because Santiago sprinted away toward a door  on the far side of the room. Shit. Nice for Santiago that he inspired  such loyalty, but a pain in the ass for Mason.

"We've got eyes on Santiago," he barked. "Get in here double-time."

"I've got him," Levi growled, already moving. "Show me your hands. Arrondilese y ponga sus manos en la cabeza."

Levi's move left Mason with seven noncombatants. Go him. Levi got to  have all the fun. He kept his eyes on their hands. A five-year-old boy  usually wasn't a threat, but the best way to stay alive was to assume  everything would go wrong. Maybe Santiago left firearms lying around.  Maybe he'd taught Santiago Junior to shoot. Mason had also been fired on  before by women-and by men dressed as women. So there was no way to  know for sure who was friendly and who was simply in the wrong place at  the wrong time.

Now that he had the first nonthreat zip-tied and down on the ground,  the rest followed. He hated making little kids show their hands, but  he'd seen good men shot by making assumptions. Who knew what Santiago  and Diego had taught these little guys? Maddie's face flashed through  his head, and he knew what she'd think. This was the part of the job  that sucked.

Across the room, Levi barked out more Spanish and then, when Santiago  failed to comply, cursed. "You've got five seconds to drop the gun."

Naturally, the guy raised the gun.

"Hooyah," Levi said, sounding downright pleasant. "Rules of engagement  say I get to plug your ass with my bullet, seeing as how I feel  threatened. I'll take Spanish lessons later and explain my feelings to  you when you're in US custody."

Right. Time to take care of business. Turning his M4 toward Santiago,  Mason squeezed off a round with surgical precision. The bullet smashed  into the other man's wrist.                       
       
           


       

"You took my turn." Levi stepped over and kicked the gun away as Santiago alternated between cursing and bellowing in pain.