“Yeah.” He straightened. “You needed me? Sir.”
Gabe ignored the contemptuous tone—for now—and motioned to the lock. “Blow it.”
Even with blood dripping down his arm and his mouth still drawn tight in pain, Ian eyed the lock like it was a woman he wanted to lick from head to toe. “With pleasure.”
He made short work of it, taking a brick of C4 from his pack and stuffing a small amount in the keyhole. He inserted a blasting cap, twisted off a length of fuse, lit it, and crouched behind the island with the rest of them.
“Fire in the hole!”
The lock blew. The door popped open.
“Nice,” Ian said, admiring his handiwork.
“Get to the helo and stop that bleeding,” Gabe told him. “We’ve got it from here.”
“Yeah, right.” He snorted, grabbed his pack and rifle, and charged toward the front of the house. Away from the helo and into the fray.
Way to follow orders, Reinhardt.
Jesse disappeared down the dark, yawning mouth of the stairs. Gabe prowled the kitchen, checking windows and doors for threats. A gangbanger bolted from the hallway into the kitchen, spotted him, and raised a pistol. Gabe didn’t give him the chance to get his finger anywhere near the trigger. The gut shot dropped the guy where he stood, and Gabe strode over to kick the gun out of his reach. Just in case.
“Boss.” Marcus popped his head inside, sweat pouring off his face. “I gotta help Jean-Luc. They have him pinned.”
“Go.” He confirmed the yard was still clear as Marcus disappeared around the side of the house, then shouted down the stairs, “We’re outta time!” as another baddie ripped through the front door, bolted across the hallway and up the foyer stairs to the second floor. Ian, the crazy bastard, was right on his heels.
Gabe moved away from the basement door to the set of stairs on the other side of the kitchen, thinking the guy might try to come down them and escape. The stairwell curved and he could only see as far up as a landing. He put a foot on the bottom step, intending to clear the area, when he heard rustling behind him.
Jesse emerged from the basement carrying Bryson Van Amee in a fireman’s carry.
“How bad?” Gabe fell into step beside him as he humped his unconscious cargo across the kitchen.
“He’s severely dehydrated and tachycardic,” Jesse said. “Another day of this and he’d be in serious trouble.”
Gabe held up a hand before they reached the patio and scanned the yard again. A body lay cooling at the edge of the patio, blood soaking through the front of his hoodie sweatshirt, his eyes frozen half open. Otherwise, the yard was empty and silent, the pop of gunfire coming more sporadically now.
“We’re clear. Go!”
Jesse took off like a swimmer from the block, jarring Van Amee, who moaned with each rattling bounce. They made it across the yard and vanished into the trees at the edge of the property. From there, it was only a short jog to the helo in a clearing on the next property over. Gabe could already hear the rotor powering up.
Almost home free. Time to round up the rest of the guys and beat feet out of there.
Gabe pivoted to go find Jean-Luc—and his bad foot went out from under him. Goddammit. With adrenaline firing his system, he hadn’t realized how bad the pain had gotten, like someone had repeatedly stabbed a knife in between his toe bones and then left it there. One second he was up on his feet, jogging toward the side yard. The next, down on his hands and knees in the dewy morning grass with a scream lodged in the back of his throat.
And that’s when he saw them. Jacinto Rivera and Rorro Salazar creeping through the trees, trying to escape.
For all of point-oh-three seconds, Gabe considered closing his eyes, turning away, and pretending he hadn’t seen them. Capturing them wasn’t part of the op. In fact, as far as his client was concerned, it was mission complete. Bryson Van Amee was safe in friendly hands. No ransom exchanged. No money lost for Zoeller & Zoeller Insurance. Handshakes and cigars all around.
He didn’t have to bring Jacinto and Rorro to justice. He didn’t have to risk himself or his men like that. But it went against every fiber in his being, every code of honor he’d ever set for himself, to let them get away.
Then there was Audrey to consider. He thought about the pain and worry and fear these two asswipes had caused her over the past few days. And it wasn’t over. Bryson was safe but had a long road to recovery, and Audrey was going to worry for him, fear for him, for a long time to come. Especially if his captors were still free. For that reason alone, Jacinto and Rorro needed to pay.
Gabe groaned and limped to his feet, commanding his bad foot to hold. It did. Barely. He took off at a hobbling run, very aware that if Jacinto and Rorro continued circling the property like they were, they would run directly into the helo.