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“Beretta. I assume you can handle the forty-five?”
“First, my tracking skills, and now my marksmanship? You’re killing me. I’ve got two mini smoke canisters, too. Though, if we have to use them, it’ll mean things are pretty desperate.”
He opened the door, holding it against the gusting wind, then made his way to the back. A quick scrounge in the boxes Charlie had left, and he had their weapons, flashlights, and a med kit out. Was packing some stuff into his bag before handing her a light, her gun, and a few extra mags. Once she’d secured the items, he passed her some rain gear then slipped on his.
He placed the extra med kit in the lockbox, stuffed it back into the smuggling compartment, then signaled for her to wait before heading to the rear of the helicopter. She was just about to join him — see if he’d somehow gotten lost or was fighting off tangoes she hadn’t noticed — when he opened her door.
He motioned to the back. “The tail rotor’s got a bit of damage, along with some holes in the fuselage. A few nicks on the main rotor blades, too. Nothing catastrophic, but definitely not in our favor. If needed, I could get her airborne, again.”
Callie sighed, wondering how everything had gone for shit so quickly. Before they’d even reached the shack — possibly confronted the asshole who’d set her up. “But it’s not ideal.”
“Dying’s not ideal, so… We’ll do whatever is necessary to see we stay breathing. If that means I milk this baby for all she’s got before putting us down somewhere else, preferably closer to civilization and possible backup, then, so be it. Ready?”
And there it was. That never-say-die attitude shining through. Making those mesmerizing eyes of his glow despite the lack of any true light. As if it was coming from inside him.
She accepted his hand, inhaling when he pulled her against him, his other hand tracing a line down her back — pausing on the top of her ass. He didn’t speak, just stared for a few heartbeats before slowly backing up and checking the map as he took a deep breath.
Was he as disappointed as she was that he hadn’t kissed her? Because her pulse was tapping wildly beneath her skin. That burning feeling practically nuclear, now. She forced herself to swallow, to shove everything down that wasn’t connected to hiking through the storm — finding proof she wasn’t crazy. That she hadn’t imagined some double agent casually brushing off her entire team being slaughtered.
That she was still sane. Still the agent she’d always been.
Booker glanced over at her, looking as if he was reading her thoughts, again, before pointing to a small gap in the trees. “The trail starts there then winds through the trees and brush. Any nasty snakes or spiders I should be concerned about?”
“Just one. The Puerto Rican Racer. It won’t kill you, but it’ll make you regret getting bitten. Damn thing leaves you numb for nearly a month. Not a fun time.”
“Sounds like you’ve had the misfortune of encountering one.”
“Let’s just say my time here didn’t leave me with many happy memories.”
The jerk winked, giving her ass an obvious once-over. “Maybe we can change that after we’re done.”
Callie closed the distance between them, tracing her finger along his pecs like she’d done in the car. “It’ll take more than some mind-blowing sex to block out the past year, but I’m game to try if you are.”
Booker coughed, pounding on his chest when it seemed as if he was choking, then shook his head as he clicked on his flashlight. “You’re as dangerous as ever. And mind-blowing is way too mild for how it’ll be if we ever get the chance to finish what we started. You should shoot your boss a quick text. Let him know we’re heading to that shack. Hope the damn thing goes through because Charlie wasn’t kidding about the sketchy service. I’ll hit him up, too. Let the big jerk know we haven’t died, yet. Tell me if you hear any assholes coming up from behind.”
He struck off, leaving her standing there for a moment as she tried to push down the riotous leap of her heart. The one that wanted to see exactly how hot they might be together. How he’d surpass her expectations. Then, she was typing out a few words to her boss before jogging to catch up, falling in behind him as he picked his way along the overgrown trail, pausing periodically to move a branch out of the way or avoid what looked like knee-deep mud.
It took nearly four hours to traipse their way up the winding trail, along the ridge, then down the backside of the mountain, but it was worth it when that damn shack materialized out of the forest. Trees and brush one moment, that metal hut standing out like a dark scar the next. Not that it was easy to spot with the rain falling like a curtain around them. More of that eerie fog weaving through the trees. What might be the start of something more dangerous — that tropical storm Charlie had warned them about.
But she suspected it hadn’t been an accident or luck that they’d come out of the thick forest right at the edge of the clearing. That Booker was far more than just a skilled pilot. Which made sense. Not that there was a lot of intel on exactly what the Flight Concepts Division did, but one thing was clear. The pilots underwent the same extreme training as the guys they flew in. Were able to pilot damn near any kind of machine, both domestic and foreign, and were apparently just as fearless because looking at him, there was no doubt he was primed and ready for a fight. Would stand between her and a dozen mercenaries without blinking, just like in the chopper when they’d been chased.
Nothing but calm, determined grace under pressure.
Booker doused his light as he stopped behind a collection of trees, studying the building until she half-wondered if he’d fallen asleep, before he sighed and looked over at her. “It’s impossible to tell if there are any assholes in that shack, let alone how many.”
He checked his gun, a small twitch of his mouth the only indication he was at all on edge. “Assuming we get inside without this turning into a full-scale battle, what are your intentions? Because I need to know if we’re really just gathering intel or if I should be palming a knife in my other hand.”
She pursed her lips, that burner cell in her pocket a not-so-subtle reminder of what she had been sanctioned to do. How far her boss was willing to let her venture before she’d crossed a line.
She stared at the cabin, pushing against the images gnawing away at the barriers she’d erected. What she’d needed to stay sane. The cartel had obviously rebuilt the shack. Erased any evidence that her colleagues had died. That the land was tainted. Cursed, really. And with the rain pouring down…
It was virtually the same scenario as that fateful night. Storm brewing. What looked like the perfect chance to barge in and round up the assholes manning the office. Pray the bastard who’d set her up was there. But with how poorly the first raid had turned out, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do.
Booker squeezed her shoulder, giving her a guarded smile. “I recognize that look, sweetheart. Either you’re here for justice of revenge. Doubtful we’ll get both, so… decide.”
She cocked her head to the side, trying to determine if he’d stay if all she really wanted was revenge, before sighing. “And you’d be okay if I said all I really wanted to do was cap the bastard who’d left me bleeding in the mud?”
The muscle in Booker’s temple jumped as he clenched his jaw, his gaze sliding to the shack then back. “I said I’d have your back, and that’s a given, regardless of what happens in there. But it’s not whether I can live with you capping this guy. The question is… Can you? Because there’s a fine line between wanting revenge and exacting it. And you need to be a thousand percent sure you can still look at yourself in the mirror before you start writing checks your sense of honor can’t cash.”
