“Great. We can’t just sit here and do nothing. Keith is part of our team. He called us and asked us for help.”
Calico was silent as Mercury looked at his brothers-in-arms. “Do what you need to do. I know nothing.” The radio cut off.
Mercury looked at his men. “Well?” he asked them.
“Fuck it. Let’s go in. Keith needs us and so does Shawna,” Stitch stated.
Mercury felt his chest tighten. This was going against the rules, but considering they were all technically retired from the military, and they were off US soil, who gave a shit.
“Okay, our last mission, men. Be smart, and don’t get killed,” Mercury said.
Tiek chuckled. “Ain’t planning on it, Gunnery Sergeant. We’re all going home to the ranch with an extended family.”
* * * *
Keith hid behind the building. So far, so good. No one had detected him. He had watched the compound for a day and a night, noting how food was brought to a small building at the far corner of the compound. That was where they had to be holding Shawna. He checked his weapon and the silencer. If he could get in there, take out the guards, and then get her out without causing too much commotion, then maybe they would make it out alive.
As he crept down the side building, keeping his back to the wall, he heard voices. There was some commotion going on in Spanish. He understood certain words. The dialect was different than what he was familiar with. There was a raid. Something was happening at the facility. Keith smirked, knowing that his team pulled through and got the information to the government to stop the potential terrorist attack. He had to move. Time was running out. Just as he rounded the corner, he saw men dragging Shawna across the courtyard. She appeared barely conscious and looked bloody and beaten.
His chest tightened. His sister had gone through hell. First as a child living in an abusive household and then as an adult struggling to make ends meet and trying to secure her degree for a better life. He came to see her when he could. He taught her as much as he could about protecting herself and preparing for the unexpected. But this was different. This was insane, and he wished he had never let on to anyone about her existence.
He thought of his team. The men were good men. If something happened to him, he hoped they would follow his instructions and protect Shawna and keep her safe. His chest tightened. That was if he could get her out of this hellhole alive.
He took a deep breath. He’d die for her. It was his fault that she was here. He needed to save her. It was now or never.
When he went to make a move, sirens blared, gunshots echoed through the night. His team was there.
* * * *
Shawna could hear the commotion and knew that something was happening. Was her brother coming to rescue her? She understood bits and pieces of what these men, her captors, were saying. Something about invasion or fight, the military, the United States, and a missile. She had no idea what was happening.
She was nearly to the point of wanting to die. Cuadrone had taken a liking to her body. He touched her, caressed her breasts, and squeezed her groin hard as he asked her questions about her brother. For days he tormented her, tried breaking her down to make her give up and give in. But she was a survivor. She had always been one, even as a child when her parents struck her. She survived on her own, in a shitty neighborhood filled with drug dealers and riffraff. She worked at the bar and dealt with drunk after drunk who thought because she served them drinks that she was fair game to take to bed.
Little did they know her tough attitude and experienced persona was all an act. Play the part and people believe it. She was quiet, compassionate, and yearned for love and to be loved deeply. She wasn’t even sure if she would recognize that kind of emotion. Especially now. She may never get a chance. She’d never dated, and wished she had. She never had sex, and now regretted it even if it was meaningless. At least she would know what it felt like to be taken and connected so fully.
She closed her eyes and held in the moan from the throbbing pain in her ribs. She wondered if they were broken.
She could hear Cuadrone yelling. He was giving orders. He was abusive, and she waited, knowing without a doubt in her mind that he would rape her. Fighting him off was not an option until that moment when she knew it was life or death. His or hers.
Guazipan shoved her to the ground in another small room. Her knees hit the dirt floor and she barely made a sound. The sting of pain was nothing compared to what she had been through thus far. She hated these men and wanted them to die.
Cuadrone grabbed her by her shirt, ripping the material.
“I’m going to love this,” he said in his thick accent, and then licked his lips as his eyes zeroed in on her abundant breasts. She was heaving with fear. It was becoming more difficult to take each breath because the trepidation was so f
ierce.
His eyes widened before he backhanded her across the mouth. She roared in anger, looked up, and she spit at him, hitting him on his lips. He wiped the spit away, smiling as he undid his belt.
The evil in his eyes warned her that she would suffer, but it seemed to her that that was his ultimate intention now anyway. Something was going on as the sirens continued to blare and gunshots were heard in the distance.
He stepped toward her, caressing the belt.
She attempted to crawl backward, the fear that he had chosen now to take her body made her adrenaline begin to rush. The weakness she had moments ago now turned to anger and disgust for this man and for the way she had been treated. He smoothed the belt across the palm of his hand as he stalked toward her, and she knew his intentions.
“What are you going to do? I’ve cooperated with you. What are you doing?”
He struck her with the belt. She put her arms up to protect her face and the sting lashed across her forearms. Again and again he struck her, breaking the skin as she cried out.