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“Yes!” Andi said.
“Yep. The second one has it,” Greyson said while Andi beamed with a smile. “Teresa Maria Timal.”
“That’s it. We got it.” He prayed that’s where Teresa was holed up and that they weren’t too late.
SEVENTY-ONE
THE ADOBE HOUSEstood a half mile outside of town. Assessing the area through binoculars, west of the run-down dwelling, Christian shook his head. It was a logistical nightmare. Flat. No coverage other than a few trees. Fortunately, they’d come prepared.
“Okay,” he said to Deckard over the comm system they’d brought.
“We’ll have to get our rifles and set up.” If only they had natural-colored camo to blend in. At least they were properly armed.
“Roger that,” Deckard said, then paused. “I’m not keen on the women being out here alone, but no way they’re going to stay in a group.”
“We both know Riley can more than hold her own, and Andi and Harper are trained FBI.” He was trying to convince himself as much as his brother.
“You’re right,” Deck said.
It was the truth, and they were all strong, formidable women, but he still worried. Andi had burrowed into his heart, and he cared deeply about the lady. When this was over, he was taking her on a real date.
“It’ll be good,” Deckard said in a reassuring tone.
Christian prayed so.
Fifteen minutes later, they were set—Christian positioned on the west, Deckard on the east, Harper to the north, and Riley to the south. Andi had pulled the proverbial short straw and was parkedbehind a copse of trees with a heightened view of the road leading to the house. One road in and one road out.
The Peloncillo Mountains rose in the background. Why couldn’t the house be there? So much cover.
Settling flat on his belly, Christian worked to make himself fade into the mesa as much as possible. The house was still through his scope. No sign of movement through the shut curtains. No car in the drive. He gripped his rifle.
Please, Father, don’t let this be another dead end.
An hour later, he repeated the prayer with all his heart.Please, Lord. Time was ticking away. If they’d chosen poorly, Cyrus and Ethan could be in the wind by now.
Yet another hour of no movement, and he was tempted to call no joy. But approaching the house directly, not knowing who was inside, how many there were, or how they were armed would have been beyond foolish. And if Cyrus and Ethan approached while they were in the open, he had zero doubt it would turn deadly. He didn’t want anyone dying today. He wanted to bring them in, have them back behind bars where they belonged.
Another hour of the same, and he fought the urge to punch the ground. Had they made the wrong call? Hadhemade the wrong call?
He prayed with everything inside of him that he hadn’t.
“Any sign?” he murmured low to the other four.
A round of noes came back.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “One more hour and we reassess.”
“Roger that,” Deckard said.
“Don’t give up hope,” Andi said. “I have a feeling about this.”
A rock wedging into his side, he prayed she was right.
A handful of minutes later, the curtain swished in the front right window.
Thank you, Lord. Relief and a new surge of energy coursed through him. It took extra restraint to remain still.
The curtain pulled to the side, revealing a petite woman with dark hair. She gazed out, scanning the area. He keyed in on her face. It was Teresa Gutierrez.
