At least in the best of circumstances. Sometimes, he really did just burn shit to the ground.
It didn’t take long for Montilla’s men to start pouring out the west side of the compound to investigate, only to be brought short by the wall of flames that carried the pungent smell of diesel.
Then came another resounding boom, followed by a plume of fire. Zy felt the singeing heat even from a few hundred yards away.
He watched the team slink into the compound on their bellies, seemingly unnoticed by Montilla’s goons. None of them shouted warnings or fired at the team or gave any indication that they’d been discovered.
With a mental pat on the back, Zy fled his hiding place and started hauling ass across the landscape to the adjacent rancher’s property. Apparently, the old man had been happy to take some American greenbacks to store the team’s equipment for a few hours.
Zy was winded by the time he reached the edge of the property and fired up the chopper. Getting it in the air was a breeze, and he was starting to worry this rescue was going too well. Or had their luck finally fucking turned around?
Now was the part he dreaded most, the hurry up and wait for the others, to see if they’d achieved the mission objective and made it out alive…or not.
Suddenly, his radio crackled with static, followed by a shout. “We’re coming in hot!”
Hunter. Zy sat up as he put the chopper on the ground in the designated spot and flung the side open. Sure enough, here they came.
Logan led the way. Behind him, Cutter ran, carrying a dark figure fireman-style over his left shoulder. It must be One-Mile with his ass in the air because he was shooting at Montilla’s heavies, now running after them—at least until he suddenly dropped the gun and fell limp.
Worry gripped Zy by the throat as Hunter shouted something, scooped up the weapon, and kept sprinting his way.
Josiah darted almost shoulder to shoulder with Cutter, carrying a petite brunette who looked naked except for a bath towel she clutched around her body. That must be Laila. She hurled insults at the goons on their tail.
When they’d almost reached the chopper, Zy strapped in again. Logan scrambled in and helped Cutter tumble a naked One-Mile onto the hard metal surface.
Zy got a look at him then. Holy fuck, Walker didn’t even look like the same man. Besides looking twenty pounds lighter, the sniper had been stripped bare and beaten within an inch of his life. Blood covered his face, oozing from black-and-blue lesions. A glance told him the sniper’s jaw had probably been broken. And when Cutter rolled him to one side to make more room for the others incoming, his back looked as if it had been torn to shreds with a chainsaw.
If One-Mile didn’t die before they reached safety, Zy would be shocked.
Hunter followed, perching just inside as he fired at Montilla’s henchmen, while Josiah leapt into the back with the brunette in his arms. Logan pulled them in deeper, then shouted at his brother, who slammed the door shut. He turned Zy’s way with a hand gesture that said to take the chopper up, but Zy was already on it, lifting the bird into the sky—away from the remaining enemies, who were still shooting.
It had been a hot minute since he’d flown one of these, and Zy gripped the yoke, swerving and feinting to avoid enemy bullets hitting something vital, like the fuel tank, and killing them all. Slowly, the pelting projectiles stopped pinging the side of the chopper. And thank fuck no one had come with their RPG.
As Logan radioed the colonel to bug out, Zy let out a sigh of relief, increased the altitude, and headed for the private airfield due north—and home.
Finally, something in Mexico had gone their way.
September 19
Eleven days after Tessa boarded a plane to Tennessee to see her dad and hopefully hold his hand through his recovery, she was returning to Louisiana with a few of his prized possessions and some of the most bittersweet memories of her life. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of all the strangers on her flight. She knew if she started, she might not stop.
Every muscle of her body ached with exhaustion when she was able to rise from her cramped seat. Hallie, who had been on her lap for the last few hours, fussed when Tessa set her back in the chair, but she blocked the aisle with her body and grabbed the portable playpen from the overhead before slinging the diaper bag from the floor. Thank goodness she’d gate-checked the stroller and wouldn’t have to schlep all this gear to the baggage claim.
And once she got there, the colonel would be waiting since he’d kindly volunteered to pick her up and give her a ride home. She’d tried to call Cash to tell him that she was catching a flight, but he hadn’t bothered to answer, probably because he slept all day.