“I’m a distraction you can’t afford. The only way you will embrace your calling is if you stay focused,” she stood, then pointed to a thick hawser-type rope coiled around a hook near the door to the helicopter. “How are your fast-rope skills?”
“Better than most.” Ike shrugged. Some skills you never forget. Especially since they’d been a regular activity for him as a PISCO. The Palmchat Islands had a unique threat to its existence—cartels that chose to use the islands as personal playgrounds, putting Palmchatters’ lives at risk every day. PISCOs hunted down those threats on the island or at the source abroad to keep the cartels from taking over their country. It was an endless fight. One they’d committed to continuing for as long as it took.
“The gear is in the bin over there,” she pointed to a steel drum near the wall. “It has everything you need: a jumpsuit, boots, knee pads, helmet, and leather gloves. All military-grade quality. You’ll have to do the rest yourself. It’s only the pilot on board with you and me.”
Ike dressed quickly, then turned the series of latches to open the side door. Air rushed inside the compartment, sending hair flying around the mystery woman’s face. He pushed the rope overboard. It dangled and twisted in the wind until dragging along an open clearing of the forest floor. The lush trees and brush of the Cabrito Mountains loomed in the background as dawn approached.
He stretched a gloved hand to hold the rope, then turned back toward the mystery woman. “Will I see you again?” Ike had to know.
“Only if I’m very lucky,” she said, then kissed him. She turned away. Her long braid was swept over her shoulder. Tattooed letters were etched against the nape of her neck.
AVA
Was that her name? He didn’t remember meeting her, but with a name, he’d figure out where their paths had crossed and why she’d put her life and her money on the line to help him.
“Ava!” Ike called out. She turned, a look of surprise on her face. “Your luck has always been better than mine.”
He hoisted his body onto the rope, squeezing it between his hands, thighs, and knees as he fell toward the earth. The island was stunning in the early dawn, awakening for another glorious day.
The zip of bullets blazed past him, bouncing off the helicopter. He twisted and turned in the air, trying to find where the shots were coming from. It was too dark. More shots were fired. Glowing orange lights pelted against metal until one hit its target.
The rope splintered. His body swung away from the open clearing toward a copse of trees. Two more shots. The rope snapped. Ike held on tight as he plunged into the forest below. Ike banged through branches, bounced off trunks of trees, and scraped against brush and foliage until he crashed onto the ground.
The dense trees had slowed his body long enough to prevent the fall from being fatal. But there was no denying he was hurt.
Cracked ribs. Broken leg. Dislocated shoulder. Concussion.
He fought to get his bearings. Every attempt to move sent searing pain through him. His head throbbed, a jackhammer rattling against his skull. The pain intensified. He was going under, unable to fight the darkness settling over him.
A low bark pierced through his pain. Raspy panting, then a low whine.
Ike laughed, sending sharp pain detonating in his chest.
Stupid fucking dog found him.
The white Labrador bounded over, pacing back and forth along his body, whining as he assessed Ike’s wounds.
“Tucker …” Ike gritted the words out. For once, he was happy to see the damn annoying dog.
The dog’s ears perked up at hearing his name. He barked once. Then twice.
“Help …” Ike tried again. “Go … get … help.”
Tucker barked, then raced off into the night.
Chapter30
“Come on,” Everett said, gripping Sebastian’s neck. “Let’s take a walk.”
Sebastian jerked away from his grasp. “I’m not leaving Gabrielle.”
He stood outside the interrogation room of the St. Felipe Police Department, staring through the one-way window. Gabrielle sat in a plastic chair in the corner of the room, legs and arms crossed as if trying to curl herself into a ball away from everything that hurt her. Her usual vibrant, glowing bronze skin was ashen. Her eyes darted around the room as if another threat would appear out of thin air.
He thought she’d been terrorized when she found the bloody message in the beach cottage. But that was a cakewalk compared to Gabrielle seeing snakes slithering out of her purse. The devastation in her eyes was his fault. He’d fucked up and let that stalking bastard, Tony Brooks, get close enough to torment her for a second time.
“I’m not suggesting that you leave her. We’ll take a quick stroll while she’s giving her statement to the detective,” Everett insisted, shoving him toward the doors. “We need to strategize and can’t do that in front of the fuzz. So, get your ass outside. Now.”
Sebastian pushed the door open with too much force. It banged against the wall, causing heads to turn. But he didn’t give a fuck. He only cared about finding Tony Brooks and making him pay for hurting Gabrielle again.
