The Darkest Hour(5)

"Do we have any backup?" Ethan asked Garrett in a low voice. As much as  he wanted Rachel back, safe and in his arms, he didn't want to risk his  brothers' lives with a dangerous extrication. Things could and did go  wrong all the time.

Garrett grunted. "I won't lie to you, man. This kind of operation  usually takes a hell of a lot more planning. We don't have the backing  and manpower of the government for this. It's not as easy as picking up  the phone and asking for shit like when we're contracting for Uncle Sam.  If we start a goddamn war with fucking Colombia, our asses are in a  sling and there ain't no one there to bail us out."

"I know I shouldn't have asked," Ethan said as he stared back at his brother. "But I had to. I can't leave her down there."

Garrett's eyes grew cold. "Hell no, we're not leaving her down there. We'll get her back, Ethan. No one fucks with the Kellys."

Ethan cracked a smile then reached out to bump his fist against Garrett's.

"All right, we have a go time," Sam said as he returned.

Donovan swiveled in his chair again. "I'm downloading the local maps  into our GPS's along with the digital images Steele captured. I'm done  on my end."

Ethan leaned forward. "When?"

Garrett and Donovan also looked to Sam for the answer. "We rendezvous  with the guy getting us a chopper in Mexico in forty-eight hours. From  there we fly into Colombia, do the drop, get Rachel, then get the hell  out. Rio and his team are still over in Asia, but he's heading to South  America as fast as he can get there. He'll be our backup if we need  him."

"How many will we have on the ground?" Ethan asked.

"Steele and his team . . . and us," Garrett said. "More than enough to take out these assholes."

Ethan sat back and blew out his breath in frustration. Forty-eight hours. It was a lifetime and not enough time all at once.

Fear for the danger he'd placed his brothers in gnawed at his gut, but at the same time, he'd do anything to bring Rachel back.

"You're not wimping out on us, are you?" Garrett asked Ethan.

Ethan yanked his gaze to his brother in surprise. There was a gleam in  Garrett's eyes. A calculated gleam that bordered on challenge.

He met Garrett's stare with resolve. KGI was the best at what they did.  He had every confidence in their ability to head up the mission to  rescue Rachel. His brothers had all served time in the military, and  there wasn't another badass out there who could hold a candle to his  brothers.

"Hooyah," Ethan said softly.                       
       
           



       

Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't start that navy shit with me, frog boy."

"Oohrah," Garrett said with a smirk.

Donovan laughed and echoed with an oohrah of his own.

Sam shook his head. "Why is it Nathan and Joe showed the only good sense  among my brothers and followed my example of joining the army?"

"They're the dumb ones," Ethan said.

"Yeah well, what's your excuse?" Garrett demanded. "Donovan and I set  such a good example for you with the marines. But no, you had to go be a  navy boy. Although you look damn pretty in the little sailor suit."

Donovan snickered, and Ethan reached out to slug Garrett in the gut. Garrett doubled over as a laugh escaped.

"It's good to have you back, Ethan," Sam said, his tone growing serious.

Ethan glanced up at Sam. "I just want her back, man."

"Yeah, I know, and we'll get her. I promise."





CHAPTER 3



THE jungle around them was alive with hundreds of critters. The air was  so heavy and concentrated that it swam in lines in front of Ethan's  eyes. Breathing was damn near impossible. The heat was so oppressive  that it weighed down on them like two tons of concrete.

Seamlessly, the men-and the lone woman-moved stealthily through the jungle, closing in on their target.

P.J. Rutherford, their best sniper, took position and trained her rifle  on the distant guard towers. She held up two fingers to signal there  were two men in each of the two western posts.

David Coletrane, or just Cole, was half a mile directly in front of  P.J., poised to take out the two east towers. Steele, P.J. and Cole's  team leader, held up a fist and signaled his ready.

Donovan and Garrett disappeared from sight as they maneuvered to the  south. Their job was to set explosives, provide distraction, and take  out anyone in their path.

Steele and the rest of his team would take the north.

Sam and Ethan surveyed the ragtag camp in front of them, taking in each  of the straw-thatched huts. Sam held up his finger and motioned toward  the three to the north and then he pointed at Ethan and gestured toward  the four huts on the southern perimeter. Ethan nodded and hunkered down  to wait for the fireworks to begin.

It took every ounce of his training to sit there and not charge into the  camp, gun blazing, throwing grenades and leveling everything in his  path. It was still his preference. These bastards didn't deserve any  mercy. If it weren't for the fact they weren't sure where Rachel was  being housed and that she might get caught in the cross fire, Ethan  would say fuck the plan and decimate the village.

Sam checked his watch and then signaled Ethan that they had two minutes to go time.

Ethan's gaze drifted through the leaves and tangle of vines, but the  only person other than Sam he could see was P.J. At one minute to go  time she'd take out the guards and then she and Cole would pick off  anyone in the way of Ethan and Sam.

She was an interesting character. When Sam had told Ethan about her,  he'd assumed she'd be a doggish-looking woman, stocky in build with a  manly haircut and tattoos. Instead she was delicate looking and utterly  feminine. That she was a highly skilled assassin was incongruous with  the image she projected.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her face was painted camo.  She was hunched over her rifle, her expression one of intense  concentration as she found her target.

At one minute to go, only the slight shift of her body told Ethan that  she'd taken the first shot. Within two seconds she'd taken the second  and then she swung her rifle over to aim at the other guard tower.

She took two more quick shots then held up her hand to signal her success.

Twenty seconds to go time.

P.J. repositioned so she'd have Sam and Ethan's path within her rifle  sights. Five seconds to go-time and she was on her belly, her rifle up  and steady.

A thunderous explosion shook the ground. Multiple fireballs lifted  through the jungle canopy, lighting an eerie path into the sky.

Ethan lunged forward, his gun up as he ran through the tangle of jungle growth and into the cleared area of the camp.

Machine gun fire erupted on both sides of Ethan as he made his way  toward the first hut. He hadn't checked Sam's progress, and he just  hoped the sharpshooters did their jobs.





SHE huddled in the darkness, hugging her knees to her chest. She rocked  back and forth, a constant motion as she rubbed her hands up and down  her legs.

Her medicine. She needed her medicine. Where were they? Had they  forgotten? Had she done something bad? Was she being punished? She  needed her medicine. The pain crawled over her flesh, leaving a burning  trail over her body.

She closed her eyes and rocked harder. Sweat bathed her shoulders, and  she shook uncontrollably. The dirt floor felt hard and cold. Despite the  oppressive heat and humidity, coldness seeped into her bones. Chill  bumps broke out on the surface of her skin.                       
       
           



       

Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.

She said the name, a litany on her lips. If she didn't say it, she was  sure she would forget, and she had already forgotten so much.

My name is Rachel.

Some of the panic subsided as she managed to hold on to that one vital  piece of information. Pain and nausea welled in her stomach, twisting it  around in knots.

She sucked in deep breaths and tried to focus her thoughts. She closed  her eyes again to conjure the image that had brought her comfort in the  long months she had lived here.

Rachel couldn't remember his name. She didn't even know if he was real,  but as long as she could see him, she could believe there was still  hope.

Her guardian angel. He hovered on the fringes of her shattered mind. Big, strong, a warrior. Her protector.

Where was he?

How many days had she sat here wondering if he would come? She had lost  count long ago, the scratches on the wall to mark the passing time a  long-forgotten diversion.

Oh God, she was going to die. They weren't bringing her medicine. She  needed it. She couldn't take the pain. Fear lodged in her throat, and  she tried in vain to breathe around it. Her chest burned with the  effort.

She rocked faster.

A huge explosion echoed like a million thunderclaps. The ground shook  beneath her and she threw her arms over her head. The sound of gunfire  rang sharply in her ears, and fear clutched her with dead fingers.