Show No Fear Page 23

  I’m free! she marveled, dazzled by the brightness of the stars.

  The sight of her breath crystallizing in the air jolted her into action.

  If she didn’t find the radio station tonight, she would freeze to death. Setting her sights on the mountain’s luminous twin peaks, she climbed over thatch and thorny briars, searching for the elusive station.

  A glint of a solar panel drew her gaze to a radio antenna raking the night sky. Beneath the antenna, she made out a door, built into the face of walled cave. She stumbled toward it, conscious of an insidious weakness invading her limbs.

  Not much longer, she assured herself. A pale line of light shone beneath the door, beckoning her with the promise of warmth and relief from the numbing wind. She prayed the SEALs’ intel was accurate and that the station was minimally protected.

  Checking the chamber in the pistol, she realized she had only three bullets left. Without the gun, she was as weak as a kitten and equally defenseless.

  Putting her ear to the door, she willed her ragged breaths to subside, blew a warm breath on her frigid fingers, and listened.

  The muted tones of meringue music struck a discordant note. Someone coughed. Stretching a hand to the sturdy latch, she was relieved to find it unlocked.

  On the count of three, she told herself, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

  One.

  Two.

  Three!

  CHAPTER 18

  Throwing her weight into the metal door, Lucy crashed into a room lit by the buttons from a soundboard display. “Freeze! No one move!” she barked as a lone silhouette lurched from blankets on the floor. “Put your hands in the air.”

  Spying a switch near the door, Lucy flipped it, flooding the cave with light, illumining a wide-eyed female, who quaked with terror as she held her arms high above her head. A quick glance around assured her there were no more rebels. Lucy’s luck was running high tonight.

  Keeping her pistol trained on the girl, she kicked the door shut and bolted it. Searching the cave for weapons, she came up empty-handed. “One false move and I’ll shoot,” she warned, not putting it past the female rebel to try something. “I’ve killed one rebel tonight, and I don’t mind killing another,” she added fiercely.

  “I am not with the FARC,” insisted the young woman.

  “Stand up,” Lucy ordered, “Keep your hands where I can see them!” she added as the girl reached beneath the blanket.

  “I need my crutch,” the girl explained, showing the hand-carved stick to Lucy.

  As the girl struggled to stand, Lucy realized one of her feet had been blown off, presumably by a landmine. “Have a seat,” she offered, tempering her hostility with pity and waving her toward the only chair, positioned before the soundboard. “My name,” she added, “is Luna de Aguiler. I’m with the United Nations.”

  “I am Maria,” countered the young woman, her fear fading. “I was abducted by the FARC when they raided my village four years ago.”

  Lucy sent her a steady look. “Would you like to leave La Montaña, Maria?”

  “Oh, yes!” she cried, suddenly luminous.

  “Then I need to make an announcement on your radio.”

  The hope in Maria’s face turned to fright. “Rebels will hear what you say. They will send soldiers to kill us!”

  “How long will it take them to get here?” Lucy wanted to know.

  The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. An hour, maybe two?”

  “We’ll be gone by then,” Lucy assured her with more certainty than she felt. “Please. Put me on the air. A helicopter will come for us in half an hour, I promise.”

  “But only the rebels listen to this station,” the woman argued.

  Despite herself, Lucy had to laugh. “Trust me,” she said, stepping closer. “Others are listening.” Like the National Security Agency, the eyes and ears of the CIA.

  With reluctance, Maria nodded and reached for a knob, twisting it to silence the music. “You may speak into the mike,” she whispered, handing it to Lucy. “Push the button.”

  Lucy depressed the button on the mike. “Mayday, mayday,” she announced with crisp American consonants. Picked up by an orbiting AWAC, it would take time for her message to be forwarded to the NSA, then put through filters to confirm her identity. “This is Luna de Aguiler with the United Nations. Six-nine-seven-two-three-six,” she added, throwing in her CIA identification number for good measure. “Request immediate extraction from the summit of La Montaña, Colombia. Hostiles closing in. I repeat…” She stated it a second time, intending to replicate the process every five minutes.

  Straightening, she nodded at Maria, who eyed her with mixed terror and idolatry. “It’ll be all right,” she added, bracing herself on the desk as sudden fatigue swept through her.

  But then the doorknob gave a jiggle. With a gasp and an inner cry of despair, Lucy whirled to face it.

  “¡Abre la puerta!” commanded a gruff voice on the other side. Open the door!

  “Don’t say anything,” Lucy cautioned, her heart thudding with terror and dismay.

  How could the rebels have arrived so quickly? There had to be an outpost nearby. Oh, God. Oh, no. This couldn’t be happening, not when she’d come so far, endured so much.

  Boom! The imprint of a boot put an indentation in the metal door. Maria whimpered.

  “Quick, hide under here,” Lucy instructed, pushing the girl under the protection of the soundboard. “They won’t harm you,” she added reassuringly.

  As the door shuddered on its hinges, she darted across the room to stand behind it, gripping the pistol fiercely.

  Great. Just fucking great. Here she was, headed into a fight for her life, and she had only three bullets left.

  With a sob of regret, she thought of Gus, who’d had to live with his father’s death and would now blame himself for hers.

  I’m sorry, she cried silently, pressing her back to the rough wall. The intruders continued to pound on the door. Bits of cement crumbled to the stone floor, indications that the hinges would soon give away.

  Her stiff fingers cramped around the pistol. Well-aimed shots to the center torso were the only thing that might save her now.

  All at once the door lurched. With a loud groan it twisted inward, providing the intruders just enough space to wedge their way inside.

  The dust cleared; still, she waited, guarding her precious bullets. This is it, she thought, praying for a speedy death—no more agonizing torture.

  As a shoulder edged into the room, accompanied by a quick peek, she pulled the trigger. Her sluggish brain was still processing the pattern of the intruder’s camouflage when her bullet whizzed by him and ricocheted off the opposite wall.

  “Lucy!” exclaimed the voice she’d heard so often in her dreams this past week she was certain she’d imagined it. “It’s us! For Christ’s sake, don’t shoot!”

  “Gus!” she croaked. The pistol clattered to the stone floor as the strength drained out of her. He spun around the door in time to catch her wilting body.

  “I’ve got you, Luce,” he rasped, crushing her against him as they sank to their knees. Delicious heat leapt off him. His familiar scent enfolded her. Lucy tried to climb inside of him, so wildly relieved it was all she could do not to burst into sobs. “I’ve got you,” he repeated as she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, just breathed.

  Hot tears seeped through her lashes to track her filthy cheeks. She was vaguely aware that four more SEALs had stepped inside the cave, calling words of reassurance to Maria, who crept from her hiding place. Opening her eyes, she took in the painted faces of her saviors—Luther, Harley, Vinny, Teddy, and Gus, her one and only partner. “I thought you were the rebels,” she admitted hoarsely.

  “They’re right behind us,” Gus informed her.

  His words sent a shaft of fear through her heart. “But how? I just sent out a mayday.”

  “They’ve been tracking us all day,” he explained, “sin
ce we captured and questioned Buitre this morning. He’s dead, by the way.”

  She let the announcement sink into her consciousness, a balm to her fears. “Good,” she said, quelling painful memories that threatened to unfocus her. “But how did you know I’d be here?”

  “We got to Arriba right after you escaped. How’d you manage that?” he asked with amazement.

  “It was a total fluke,” she admitted wryly. “The lock around my neck fell open.”

  Horror flickered in Gus’s eyes as they fell to her chafed neck. “And then what?”

  “Then I shot the first guard paying his hourly visit. I tossed his keys at the other captives, who took out the second guard.” And in hindsight, she could scarcely believe her own temerity.

  “We heard the other captives heading downhill in the dark,” said Gus, “but I knew you had more sense than to go with them. I knew you’d remember the E & E extraction point.”

  “I hate to break off the reunion,” Luther interrupted gently, “but we’ve got a helo extract to prepare for.”

  Lucy’s relief mounted. She wouldn’t have to wait on pins and needles now for her mayday to be processed. She’d be flying out of here in a matter of minutes.

  “Vinny, find out our helicopters’ ETA,” rapped out the OIC. “Tell them I want a read on the number of hostiles closing in.”

  The reminder of a lingering threat put a damper on Lucy’s euphoria.

  “Harley and Teddy, set up a perimeter outside,” Luther added.

  “Have some water,” murmured Gus. Ignoring his leader’s urgency, he pressed a canteen of reviving water to her lips. “How do you feel? How’s the hip?”

  “It’s healing. I had a raging fever from the filthy knife they used, but I survived.”

  “My brave girl,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with a gloved hand. His eyes glimmered wetly as he gazed down at her. “I’m so sorry for what happened, Luce,” he added hoarsely.

  “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “You couldn’t have known Buitre would dump you in the river. God, Gus, I don’t know how you survived that, but I knew you would,” she added, clutching him harder.

  “We went after you that night,” he told her quickly, “but we were too late. They’d already removed the microchip and used it to lure us away from you.”

  Lucy cringed at the memory of her torture.

  “How’s your hip now?” he pressed. “How badly did they hurt you, Luce?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “They didn’t break me, Gus. If anything, they taught me how much I want to live.”

  At her confession, his eyes blazed with love and words unspoken. Only this wasn’t the time to talk about the future.

  “Gus,” interrupted the OIC. “Get Lucy dressed in cold-weather gear. We’re moving out.”

  “Maria has to come with us,” Lucy insisted, meeting the girl’s hopeful gaze. “They’ll kill her for allowing me to broadcast.”

  Luther and Gus both slid Maria an assessing look, taking in her missing foot.

  “So be it,” said the OIC, shaking off his rucksack. “Let’s bundle you both up.”

  “MOTHER HAWK, THIS IS BABY BIRD,” Vinny called on a note of desperation. “State your ETA, over.”

  With Lucy trembling in his arms, Gus prayed the rescue helicopter would arrive at any moment, preferably with a backup helo for fire support. The rebels were now keeping radio silence. The SEALs had no way of knowing how close they were.

  Even with their backs to an escarpment, the icy wind pierced their protective clothing. The frozen pond between the mountain’s twin peaks shone an iridescent blue under the starry sky. If they weren’t rescued soon, they would freeze to death or fall under attack by the approaching rebels.

  “Baby Bird, this is Mother Hawk and Hunter Hawk.” The heartening reply sounded crystal clear. “We are within two miles and closing. Over.”

  Gus shared looks of relief with Vinny and Luther.

  “Roger, Mother Hawk and Hunter Hawk,” Vinny replied. “We are five in number with two civilians. We have a sniper and scout positioned on a ledge. Do you see our FLIR? Over.”

  “We see you, Baby Bird. Get FLIR patches on those civilians.”

  “Wilco, Mother Bird.”

  Luther was already grubbing in his pack for glint tape, sticking the Velcroed tabs on Maria’s shoulders, then handing two to Gus to put on Lucy.

  “Hunter One will approach forward of your position to defend the rescue,” continued the pilot. “You may position infrared strobes on the LZ now. Keep your heads low and watch for rotor downdraft. Over.”

  “We copy, Mother Bird. Look for our strobes. Over.”

  “I’ll do it,” offered Luther as Vinny reached for the pack with the strobes. “Stay here and man the radio.”

  Gus watched Luther dart from their shelter and run in a low crouch toward the flat area that rimmed the lake. A whip-crack shot rode the edges of the wind, and Luther fell into a crouch, consulting Harley on his headset. In Gus’s arms, Lucy flinched.

  “That’s Harley,” he reassured her, not bothering to add that it was also Harley’s signal that the rebels were closing to within firing distance. Damn it!

  “Vinny,” he said, trying to mask his urgency, “the second the helo lands, you grab Maria and go. We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Hooyah, sir.”

  The whiz and bang of a sixty-six-millimeter rocket launcher, fired to retard the rebels’ approach, made Gus’s heart pound.

  “Is that Harley, too?” Lucy asked between chattering teeth.

  “Yes,” he reassured her.

  But then the rebels retaliated, filling the frigid silence with a thunderous barrage, and he could no longer deny that the bad guys had caught up to them.

  Peering desperately up at the night sky, he was gratified to see the silhouette of a Pave Hawk helicopter detach itself from the inky sky.

  “Here comes the rescue helo,” warned Vinny, preparing to gather Maria in his arms.

  The radio crackled. “All call signs, this is Hunter Hawk. Preparing to suppress enemy forces. Get your people on the rescue bird, now! Over.”

  Seeing Luther occupied, Gus summoned the sniper and scout. “Harley, Teddy, pull back now!” he ordered.

  Twenty seconds later, the twosome skidded into the alcove, dropping down next to them. “Elite Guards,” Harley shouted over the vibration of descending rotors. “Sneaky bastards slipped around from the east side.”

  Buffeted by a stiff wind, the rescue bird teetered, snatching their attention to the landing zone. Gus’s heart almost stopped as the immense rotor came within inches of striking the escarpment. The slightest contact could send the helicopter crashing to the ground in a massive explosion.

  The skilled pilots managed to bring it under control, easing Gus’s fears. The bird touched down at last, whipping up flecks of granite as it waited for the SEALs’ approach.

  “Go, go!” he shouted, urging Vinny to precede him.

  Lieutenant Lindstrom was the first to greet the crew, waving his teammates over as he took up a defensive position by the doors.

  With Maria in his arms, Vinny lumbered out into the open. Bullets immediately ricocheted off the granite at his feet, driving him back into cover.

  Son of a bitch. The Elite Guards had caught up to them, firing rounds that struck the helicopter with musical pings. Luther fired back, but the mounted gun, loath to put friendly forces in harm’s way, did not.

  Where the hell was Hunter Hawk? wondered Gus, breaking into a sweat under his cold-weather gear.

  Then, with a whop-whop-whop, the second helicopter rose over the summit’s lip, spewing fire from its Gatling gun, picking off the encircling Venezuelans.

  “Run!” Gus urged, and Vinny tried again.

  Banding an arm around Lucy’s waist, Gus followed him, Harley and Teddy belting out a base line to cover their retreat.

  This has got to work, thought Gus, speeding Lucy over the rubble. Heads t
ucked into their chests, they ran blindly into hands that pulled them into the helo’s cabin. Track lighting revealed a team of four men, working furiously to speed them away.

  “Go! Go! Go!” shouted the team leader to the pilots.

  With whining rotors, the bird lurched off the ground, swaying like a cradle as the wind whipped around them. They swung so close to one of the jagged peaks, it seemed inevitable that they would strike it.

  Gus felt Lucy tug at his jacket. “Gus!” she cried, capturing his attention.

  He looked down at her, loving every curve of her beautiful, sculpted face.

  “I want that date!” she demanded, her words scarcely discernable as both Hunter Hawk and Mother Hawk now pounded the enemy.

  A sense of peace enfolded Gus abruptly, easing his tense muscles, compelling him to lower his mouth and touch his lips to Lucy’s ice-cold ones. Suddenly he just knew, like he’d known she had fled to the summit, that they were going to survive this deadly night. And one day soon, they’d be enjoying their first date in eight long years.

  “You’ve got it,” he promised as the Pave Hawk soared straight up. Listing to one side, it bore them to safety as Hunter Hawk riddled the mountaintop, destroying the FARC’s secret weapon once and for all.

  CHAPTER 19

  Escorted by her brother, Drake, Lucy crossed from the elevator to the door of her apartment outside Washington, D.C., with the sense that she was dreaming. The flight on a C-130 cargo plane from Ecuador to Andrews Air Force just north of D.C. had taken all day.

  Prior to that, she had spent three days at Manta Air Base in Ecuador, enduring the FBI’s Hostage Reintegration Program. She’d been fed, scrutinized by a physician, and allowed brief communication with her employer and with her family members before finally being sent home.

  The only thing she hadn’t done in those three days was talk to Gus. No sooner had the rescue helicopter delivered her to Manta Air Base than it had borne him and his teammates to a carrier in the Pacific.