The Darkest Hour(4)

"Christ, you have," Garrett muttered.

"Ethan," Donovan began in his quiet voice. "You have to know, this is  probably just a hoax. Some sick joke. It might even be someone with a  grudge against KGI. What better way to get us in the line of fire with  our balls hanging out than to dangle Rachel in front of us like that?"

Sam nodded grimly. "We certainly have to treat it as a possible threat."

Ethan exploded in rage. He slammed into Sam, grabbed handfuls of his  shirt and got into his face. "That's my wife down there in some  shithole. We aren't talking about some nameless hostage or some  political pawn who doesn't matter. This is Rachel. With or without your  help, I'm going in to get her."

"Take your hands off me, Ethan," Sam said calmly. He stared back at  Ethan, his expression unreadable. There wasn't anger or judgment in his  eyes, and maybe that bothered Ethan the most.

Ethan slowly uncurled his fingers then shoved Sam back with a sound of  disgust. He started to walk away, but found himself in a headlock.  Garrett's arm tightened around his neck, and he muscled Ethan back  across the room. He loosened his hold and shoved Ethan onto the couch.

Ethan stumbled and sprawled onto the cushions. He would have come up swinging, but Donovan promptly sat on him.

"Goddamn it, get off me!" He wanted to hit something-someone. Let loose  the rage that was fast erupting, that he was losing control over with  each passing second.

He blinked when Sam's face came into focus, their noses just centimeters apart.

"Listen up, little brother. If you think we're going to leave Rachel in  that shithole, think again. But I'm not going to risk my team-my  brothers-by going off half-cocked without any intel or backup, you got  it?"

Ethan closed his eyes. He wasn't stupid. Desperate, yes. Stupid, no. He  knew they couldn't stomp down to some South American jungle, guns  blazing, and start a fucking war, no matter that his wife was being held  captive by a bunch of assholes.                       
       
           



       

He nodded and felt Sam move away. Donovan eased off Ethan, and Ethan  rolled off the couch and onto the floor, the carpet soft under his  knees.

"I'll get Steele on it," Garrett said. "He and his team are finishing up  a recon in South America. I can get satellite imagery based on the  coordinates you have in that packet. If those guys so much as take a  piss outside a hut, we'll be able to tell their dick size."

Sam nodded. "We need photos. We need numbers. We need to confirm every  single piece of that information. We don't go until I'm convinced we're  not walking headlong into an ambush."

Ethan remained there, on his knees, watching as his brothers calmly did  what they did best-plan a military operation. Only this time they  weren't rescuing a nameless hostage or recovering a fugitive.

Numbness gripped him. Everything moved around him in slow motion. A firm  hand gripped his shoulder, and Ethan slowly turned his face upward  until he met Garrett's hard gaze.

"If she's there, we'll get her out. You know that, man."

"Yeah, I know," Ethan said in a voice just above a whisper. Then he  stood, irritated by his paralysis. "What can I do?" he demanded. He  needed to do something or he would go crazy.

Sam eyed him, his demeanor calm, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a  harsh gleam. Anger. Something Ethan could relate to. "We need an  extrication plan. Why don't you get with Van, pull out some maps and  learn everything you can about the lay of the land. Download satellite  imagery from Hoss while I get on the horn to some of my contacts. I've  got a guy with the DEA who should be able to tell me if we're stepping  in the middle of a drug war."

Ethan's lips twitched and he glanced sideways at Donovan. "You mean I  get to touch Hoss?" He relaxed the slightest bit. He had every faith in  Sam and KGI. They employed some of the brightest military minds in the  world. They could do this. Soon. Rachel would be home. Soon.

Donovan grunted. "No. I'll do the touching. You just sit and watch. I don't want you fucking with my computer."

"That's as close as he gets to a love affair," Sam muttered. "I think he came in his pants when we got the thing."

"Ha ha. You're such a comedian," Donovan said as he flipped Sam off. He  motioned for Ethan. "Come on, little brother. I'll show you the real  brains behind KGI. Peckerhead over there couldn't wipe his ass without  me to tell him when and how."

Action. Something to do. Something to keep his mind off the fact that  right now, at this very moment, Rachel was terrified and alone. And  worse, she thought he wasn't ever coming for her.





THREE days later, the war room looked precisely like its name-sake.  There were blown-up satellite images and maps covering all surfaces and  even some spread out on the floor. Donovan sat at the computer, his brow  creased in concentration while Sam spoke in low tones to Steele over  the satellite link.

Garrett stood across the elevated planning table from Ethan while the  two of them studied the picture of the encampment they'd put together  with satellite images as well as photographs taken by their man on the  ground.

Ethan looked up when Sam walked back over. "What's up? Have they made a positive ID yet?"

Sam stood next to Garrett and picked up one of the photos. "Things are  quiet there. Too quiet. Steele got there two days ago and has been  pulling round-the-clock surveillance with his team. They've seen the  woman in question twice."

Ethan surged forward, putting his palms down on the table. "So she is there. She's alive."

Sam hesitated. "That's not what I'm saying, man. We don't know that it's her."

"Bullshit. You're telling me Rachel has some goddamn twin in the exact same place she went on her mercy mission a year ago?"

Garrett and Sam exchanged glances. "I just don't want you to get your  hopes up, Ethan," Sam said. "We agree that whoever the woman is, it's  obvious she's not there by choice, and the fact that she strongly  resembles Rachel is enough for us to go in for the extrication."

Ethan's shoulders sank in relief. "When?" he asked. They'd already spent  three days-three agonizingly long days-waiting for information, data,  satellite photos, and Steele's recon.

And then another thought hit him. "You're not leaving me out of this."  It wasn't a question. There was no question. He wasn't staying here  while KGI went in after Rachel.

"To be honest we thought about it," Garrett admitted. "But I also know  if it was my wife, no way in hell would anyone keep me off the mission.  So yeah, you're going, but you're going to keep your head on straight.  You've been out of action for a while, and you have a personal stake in  this."                       
       
           



       

Ethan nodded, adrenaline stirring in his veins. "When?" he asked again.

"As soon as we can be assured we know exactly what we're getting into,"  Sam said. "Steele's on the ground with his team. He's positioning them  so we have a tight circumference around the encampment. As soon as I can  get a chopper lined up for the extrication, we'll gear up and fly down  on the jet to Mexico. We take the helicopter into Colombia and drop into  the jungle. It'll be a bitch, but it's doable."

Garrett's jaw tightened. "Hell yeah it's doable."

"Just got an email from Beavis and Butt-Head," Donovan called over his shoulder. "Are we telling them what's going on?"

Ethan grimaced. The youngest two Kelly brothers, Nathan and Joe, were  still active military and currently deployed to Afghanistan. Ethan was  sure Sam and the others probably kept the twins updated on the goings-on  at KGI, but the last thing he needed was for his brothers to be worried  and distracted when they were fighting in a hot zone.

"No," he and Sam said at the same time.

Sam glanced over at Ethan and nodded. "No reason to get anyone's hopes up until we know for sure that Rachel is alive."

"So what are we telling Dad?" Garrett asked.

Donovan turned around in his seat to tune in more to the conversation.

"I'll tell him it's a classified mission," Sam said with a shrug. "Not like we haven't had a dozen of those."

"Yeah, but what are you going to tell him when he notices that our  holdout isn't holding out anymore?" Donovan asked with a jerk of his  thumb in Ethan's direction.

Ethan shifted uncomfortably when all three of his brothers focused their gazes on him.

"Just that he's not holding out anymore," Garrett said. "Dad will be glad to hear it. He's worried about Ethan."

Donovan nodded and turned back to the computer. The satellite link beeped and Sam walked back over to the receiver.