Trudging back toward the path, he already had everything planned out in his head. He’d wake Goon One, and they’d go on the attack. Goon Two would stay with the vehicle, engine running, ready to move the second they came back.
He glanced once more toward the house.
Time to have some fun.
KC checked the time on the old mantle clock above the fireplace. It was a little after nine.
Trouble had slipped out to the beach as soon as the man watching the house left to meet up with his buddies in the truck. He would stay out there in case anyone made a run in that direction.
Another minute ticked by before Brian’s voice came through the communication headsets, clear and steady. “Looks like they’re getting ready. Remember, guys, this is a non-sanctioned op on U.S. soil. Try not to kill anyone.”
None of them needed the reminder. They were well aware of the trouble they’d be in if that happened. Maybe not with the sheriff’s department, but definitely with their respective supervisors.
“They’re on the move,” Brian continued. “Stopping in front of the house. No headlights.” A pause. “Driver’s staying with the vehicle. The smaller guy from the beach and a bigger one dressed in black are heading toward the patio. Looks like we guessed right—they’ll come in through the back door. We’ll take the driver on your go.”
Inside, the team moved without a word, each man taking his position. KC slipped into Moriah’sbedroom, while T3 took the one across the hall. Doors closed quietly behind them.
Peanut folded himself into the far corner of the living room behind the recliner, a Taser in each hand.
With the tablet in hand, KC watched the live feed from the camera covering the back door.
They’d thought about leaving it unlocked to make entry easier, but that felt too obvious—too much like a trap.
Minutes stretched.
Then came the sound—faint but unmistakable.
On the screen, one of the small window panes shattered, glass falling inward with a soft clink. The two men froze outside, flashlights cutting across the frame as they listened, checking for any sign they’d been heard.
Nothing.
A hand reached through the broken pane, found the lock, and opened the door.
The men stepped into the small house, each holding a 9mm semi-automatic in one hand and a flashlight in the other. They quickly scanned the interior, the beams sweeping across the room, then moved toward the hallway as quietly as possible.
KC shifted his focus to the second camera, tracking them as they approached the bedrooms.
Neither man saw the five-foot-six-inch Navy SEAL emerge silently from his hiding spot behind them.
They reached the doors, one taking the left, the other the right. Hands lifted, ready to grab the knobs.
They never made it.
Both men screamed in shock and pain as the Tasers hit. Their bodies seized and dropped hard to the floor, muscles locking as the fifty-thousand-volt charge coursed through them.
KC stormed out of the bedroom as T3 did the same from across the hall. Together, they cleared the space, kicking the weapons away and securing both men’s hands behind their backs with zip-ties.
Once that was done, KC tapped his mic. “Both tangos down. You’re clear to take the driver.”
His gaze flicked to the living room, where Peanut stood a few feet away, wires trailing from the Tasers in his hands to the men on the floor. “Man, I freaking love these things.”
His teammates snorted and shook their heads.
Moments later, Sean’s voice came through thecomms. “Suspect secure. Sheriff’s patrol is pulling up.”
In a matter of seconds, the threat was over. But was it really? Would the drug lord send someone else after he found out these men had failed?
KC hit the speed dial on his cell for his uncle, and the man immediately picked up. "How did it go?"
