Chapter Six
Hallie
Having approached from the Pacific Ocean, the helo’s wheels touched down with a soft bounce. The ten-hour journey had been long, and while the Stallion was a magnificent machine, we needed to stop multiple times to refuel as we skipped our way down the coast of Mexico. Two hours prior, we’d received an update from Tiffany via the secure radio network advising that our mission now included a body retrieval.
One of the male hostages had been executed precisely on the twelve-hour mark, as warned. The execution had been broadcast live on social media channels, and Tiffany had absolutely no doubt that it was legit.
With our sense of urgency renewed, Shaun reiterated that we had an hour and fifty-five minutes to get back to the rendezvous point. They needed to refuel again but would be back in precisely an hour plus fifty-sevenminutes. Wheels-down would be as brief as possible, then we’d be up and gone, no matter the casualty status of the hostages; they’d be tended to once in the air.
The tight turnaround allowed forty-five minutes to head inland from the coast to reach the hostage location, fifteen to clear and extract, then fifty-five minutes to withdraw.
After jumping from the helo with the gear we needed, we waited out of the rotor zone with our heads bowed against the downdraft while the guys took off. Once airborne, they were high and heading seaward within the minute.
“Fuck, it’s as humid as Satan’s ballsack down here,” Mac grumbled, shouldering her grab-bag and slinging her rifle strap into place.
I snorted. “That’s what she said.”
Her sharp jade eyes hit mine. “No shit.”
“Time check then let’s get the fuck on the road,” Lexa interrupted.
The four of us started our preset timers, then set off on a dirty road that angled toward the Sierra Madre highlands in the background.
We made quick progress as planned until we came within a few hundred yards of where the hostages were believed to be held. Shrouded by a line of trees growing five deep, we paused to go through the plan one last time.
“Mac, you and I are first in. Lexa, you’re up our asses. You and Nevada take left and right, then watch for incomers as we clear. If we get separated or have casualties to extract, this is our rendezvous point B. Comms check.”
After ensuring our earpieces were all working, we cautiously pushed forward. Each foot hit the earth without a sound, and while I couldn’t hear my teammates fanned out on either side of me, the intensity of their concentration could be felt. A stealth approach was essential if we were to leave here with the other two hostages alive. Lives were in our hands, and we’d go down fighting to complete this mission successfully.
As we neared the inner edge of the tree line, a simple hut came into view. Nestled into the foot of a low hill and partially hidden by overgrown foliage, the building itself looked derelict—the perfect ruse for criminal activities. While the structure led you to believe the hut was vacant, the man at the front door casually holding a sawed-off shotgun was the only giveaway that all wasn’t as it seemed. He appeared too relaxed to be on alert, and that worked in our favor. Mac and I detoured around the rear of the shack and snuck up on that fucker. He didn’t get a chance to draw his next breath when he finally spotted us. Mac sunk her knife into the side of his throat and slit it in one swift movement.
She let him fall to the ground, and I stepped over him as Lexa and Nevada arrived at our sides.
“Ready?” Mac asked.
I nodded. “Let’s do this.”
The first gasps announcing our arrival penetrated the hushed conversations when we surged into the building. Leaving the door to the right closed, we peeled seamlessly through the open door on the left with our rifles aimed. Ripples of shock spread throughout the room, and women reaching for children created a frenzied wave of chaos.
Panicked shouts and cries rang out. Pleas and desperate prayers increased in volume as we swiftly and systematically cleared the room. Despite finding no one threatening, the number of women and children packed in the small space was alarming. If there was a firefight…
The first crack of gunfire rang out behind me as Nevada screamed, “Contact rear!”
With my heart lurching into my throat and running wild, I rushed from the room and straight through the opposite doorway that now hung wide open.
Entering last gave me an overview of the situation; three hostages were tied up, one slumped where he sat, still bound to the chair and obviously deceased. The other two—a man and woman—remained tied, gagged, disheveled, and visibly distressed. Four militia men were dotted around the room, three of whom were now bleeding out on the dirt floor thanks to Lexa and Nevada’s sharp shooting. Mac had the other backed into a corner with her knife pressed to his neck; the same bloodied knife that was used to slit his friend’s throat.
“This cunt’s gonna squeal,” she hissed, leering into his face and pressing the blade harder against his Adam’s apple.
He winced and swallowed—the motion sending her blade further into his thin flesh.
I squatted in front of the female hostage and removed her gag, then worked on slicing away the rope binding her ankles to the chair legs, all while Lexa set to work freeing the live male.
“Bridgett, I’m Hallie, and I’m part of a U.S. Special Forces group sent in to extract the three of you. Do you understand?” I urged.
As the woman tried to shake off her daze, her face scrunched. “Yes. I do. But they… they killed Alec. On live stream. Right there. They said I was next.” She broke down and sobbed, physically angling away from her deceased comrade to my right. “They thought it was funny…”
Rushing behind her to slash the bindings on her wrists, I explained the situation. “We need you and Silas up and on your feet. Can you walk?”