“One more thing,” Greystone added. “We’re goin’ in with assault rifles.”
They retreated into the locker rooms to suit up. Twenty minutes later, everyone stood in the hallway, dressed in SWAT gear, helmets on, goggles up. In their arms, each cradled their weapon. While some hid their identity with camouflage paint, others didn’t. He hadn’t, but all the women, including Caroline, were slathered in face paint.
They inserted their comms.
“Check in,” Greystone said.
One by one, they tested their devices.
“Here are the teams,” Greystone said. “Hawk and Addison, Prescott and Slash, Sin and Dakota, Stryker and Emerson, Cooper and Danielle, Rebel and Jericho, and the trio is Caroline, Tank, and me.” He swept his gaze over the group. “Are we good?”
They were.
“We have a saying in ALPHA,” Dakota said. “Team?”
“We go in together,” they said in unison. “We come out together.”
“Nice,” Greystone replied. “I got one of my own.” He eyed the group. “Let’s get these fuckers.”
As they walked toward the hangar, Greystone said, “I’ll take one of the vans.”
“Sin and I will take the second,” Dakota added.
“Four to an SUV,” Greystone instructed before they entered the oversized garage.
The caravan headed out, driving as a unit toward the apartment complex in Arlington. Caroline rode shotgun. Teddy sat in the back of the cargo van. The vehicle had two rows of seats facing the empty center. The prisoners would be secured by their handcuffed wrists to a bar over their heads, while their shackled ankles were secured to the floor.
As they approached the apartment complex, they turned off their headlights, drove around back, and parked. With Greystone taking the lead, they strode in pairs toward the front of the building. The formidable group would stop anyone in their tracks. They looked like monsters who haunted people’s dreams.
In silence, they entered the garden apartment building, split off toward their destinations. Up the stairs he charged, Caroline and Teddy close on his heels.
“Together,” he murmured as they stopped outside the fourth-floor apartment.
The teams reported in that they were in position. He tried the door handle. Locked.
“On three,” Greystone said before he counted them down. “One, twothree.”
POP!
He shot out the lock, burst inside. Darkness filled the smallfurnished apartment. He lowered his goggles. No targets in the living room. He stormed down the short hallway to a bedroom, entered, and cleared the room in seconds. The bed had been made, the open drawers empty. Whoever had been living there had bolted.
Dammit to fucking hell.
“How’d they know?” he murmured.
Teddy raced across the hall, he and Caroline close behind. Seconds later, they’d cleared that bedroom. Only clothing had been left, strewn around the room. They cleared the bathroom. Also empty.
“Update me,” he said.
One by one the teams reported in the same results. The terror cell had fled the building. The trio hurried to the apartment across the low-lit hallway. Greystone tried the lock. The doorknob turned.
“Here we go,” he murmured.
He opened the door, this one creaking on its worn hinges. The living room was a disaster. Pizza boxes and other empty food containers lay scattered, their stench fouling the air. Caroline took off toward the first bedroom, stopping outside with her back against the wall. She peeked around the corner.
“He’s packing,” she whispered into the comm.
They entered the room together, their rifles drawn. A man was kneeling on the floor in front of an open suitcase, throwing clothing inside. He startled, then pulled out an air pod from his ear.
