Hell Bent (25 page)

Caleb walked up to the truck, and threw zip ties and a roll of duct tape down beside his rifle which he slid into the bed.

“Don’t put those down just yet,” Dex mumbled.  “I hope you have a box of them, because you’re going to need them.  I’m doing Carlos a favor—making his job easy.” 

He stepped back and lifted the drone from the truck, and Cee Cee could see a speaker mounted to the top.  He moved further back, and she saw a keyboard with a mic in the bed of the truck, along with his drone controller.

“We really should just get out of here—we have Allison and that’s what we came for.”

“No—we came to get her and
stop
these idiots.  If we leave, they’ll discover their buddies in that cabin at dawn and bug out before Carlos gets here,” Dex argued, leaning into the bed to grab his controller.

Cecelia couldn’t argue because he was right. 

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

“Operation Alien Invasion,” he replied with a grin.  “I, too, might not be able to fire a rifle, but I can sure make them think they’re surrounded.”

Good
Lord
—this nerd never ceased to amaze her, but Cecelia thought for Allison and Lou Ellen’s safety they should at least get them out of here. 

“Lou Ellen, you and Allison take Caleb’s truck and get out of here.  We’ll meet you at the shelter in a bit.”

By the time Dex was set up, and Lou Ellen and Allison pulled out, dawn was breaking over the trees and Cecelia was less certain they should try this hairbrained plan that Dexter concocted.  But he was excited, and Mac seemed to have faith, so she went along with it.

They’d taken up the positions they’d been in earlier during Allison’s rescue, and Caleb, Levi and Fletch spread out at the rear of the compound in the woods.

Dex already had the drone in the air and she watched it zoom toward the center of the compound and hover there.  When the speaker on top squealed at a hundred decibels she felt it in her back teeth and flinched until it stopped.

“This is the FBI, ATF and Homeland Security—we have the compound surrounded.  Throw down your weapons and exit the buildings with your hands in the air.  I repeat—throw down your weapons and exit with your hands in the air and no one will be hurt.”

The sounds of rotor blades, and what sounded like tanks came over the speaker and Cecelia looked over her shoulder to see Dex grinning from ear to ear as he sat on the tailgate pushing buttons on the keyboard.  That man was a very smart kid trapped inside a hot nerd’s body, and Deep Six was
very
lucky to have him.  Cecelia was luckier to have him here with her, because these rednecks didn’t stand a chance. 

Who needed the FBI or an army when you had him?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Cade helped the last woman through the hole in the fence, then pulled out his cell phone and read,
We’re a team, Lone Ranger.
 

It was from Logan and Cade cringed, but ignored it and quickly texted back.

Women waiting at entry—going in for Amelia
.

He pocketed his phone and it vibrated again, but he walked quickly toward the house.  He heard a distant pop echo through the woods, and stopped to hold his breath and look around to see if any of the few men in the courtyard heard too.  They stopped and looked around intently, but a minute later walked on without a sense of urgency.  Cade’s cell phone vibrated again and he pulled it out and huffed a breath.

We need to pop smoke NOW.  I have one Delta Tango and I’m afraid he had friends.

Which meant they needed to leave now because Hawk had to kill someone at the landing zone
. 
Cade tensed, looked at the house then at the hole in the fence. 
They were angry that she cried for her baby and fought them, so they took her into the house when we arrived.  

No, he had to get Amelia regardless of what they did.  If he had to, Cade would hide out in the woods with her until someone could pick him up.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that in his life.  But how in the hell was he going to get into that house? 

Cade was sure it was well guarded, and probably where half of the cartel could be found, and the other half in the guard shack.    He needed a distraction, so he scanned the area and his eyes landed on the side of the tent where he’d seen the rocket launchers and ammo.  That would be a distraction, he thought, as he quickly ran to the tent and ducked inside.

Searching in the dark, he found a mini-launcher he could attach to his rifle and put that into the pocket of his cargo pants.  One of the crates near there held grenades, so he filled his biggest pocket with those.  He moved back to the stack of bigger RPG launchers at the edge of the tent, saw the large mortar shells in a crate behind them and smiled.  He scrambled over the weapons and grabbed two shells and tucked them under his arm, then hefted one of the heavy launchers onto his shoulder, but stopped to scan the compound for bogies before he hustled toward the back of the house.

By the time he moved into the shadows and set them on the ground he was dragging in breaths and sweating fiercely.  He swiped his forearm across his brow then pulled out the kickstand on the launcher and moved it around until he was sure it would hit the center of the tent and not the shacks down range.  Once it was settled, he loaded a shell, leaned his head into his shoulder  to block the concussion and dropped it down the chute. 

The loud whoosh as it left the tube pierced his uncovered ear and the boom when the shell exploded in the tent knocked him back three feet.  Voices buzzed inside the house, shouts in the courtyard, but he waited to see a fire inside the tent.  When there was only smoke, he adjusted the launcher hit where he thought the mortar rounds were and quickly slipped the second shell in the tube.  Before the whoosh, he was running like hell toward the other end of the house. 

The buzz of voices, the frantic shouts, got louder, sporadic automatic weapon fire sounded in the courtyard, and Cade ran like he was being chased by the hounds of hell toward the front of the house.   Men filed out of the front door in droves, out of the guard shack and Cade pushed his way inside. 

As big as this place was, he could spend an hour he didn’t have searching for her if he didn’t ask someone, so as soon as he broke out of the mob, his eyes fell on a terrified-looking woman and he grabbed her to drag her with him to an alcove.

“Don’t make me kill you, senorita.  Tell me where they have the woman they brought here yesterday.  The one who was crying for her baby,” he growled and her whole body shook.

“I will show you,” she replied, and to his surprise took his hand.  “She is in a bad way—almost dead.”   The woman dragged him into the inside courtyard, through a door and up a set of wide stairs. 

Cade didn’t know if she was dragging him to the jefe himself to be killed, or if she knew where Amelia could be found, but he had no choice but to follow her as they wound through corridors, went up short sets of stairs and twisted and turned until Cade lost his sense of direction.  How he would get out of here with Amelia, he didn’t know.  Breathing hard, the woman stopped at a door and pointed.

“She’s in there, senor—help her!” she said then took off down the hall.

Cade opened the door and went inside the dim room which was only lit by a candle on the nightstand beside the bed.  The house had electricity, so he had no idea why this room was only lit by a candle as he walked to the bed.  Horror filled him when he saw the thick, rough twine cords tied to the bed posts.  His eyes followed them down to wrists that were almost severed by the rope which had dug so deeply into the bloody, delicate flesh.  Her dead lifeless fingers curled into purple hands that would never be used again, never hold her baby again, and a rage so intense it blinded him filled Cade.

“Please kill me this time,” she begged, her weak, hoarse voice muffled by the rough blanket that covered her face.

Cade didn’t want to see her face—didn’t want to see her body which he knew would be just as horrific as her wrists and hands.  Explosions rocked the villa, the gunfire outside became deafening, but all he could do was stand there and stare at her.

Swallowing down the vomit that surged up to his throat, Cade’s hand shook as he grabbed the blanket and jerked it off of her.  He didn’t need the overhead light to see the girl who brought him here wasn’t lying.  There wasn’t much left of her face, her eyes were swollen shut and would never see again.  Brown dried blood stained the entire sheet under her body and a fresh blood circle pooled under her bottom half. Too much blood for anyone to lose, too horrific injuries for anyone to survive.

Amelia was as good as dead—even if he rescued her she wouldn’t survive this.  Those bastards had tortured her so brutally there was no hope left for her.

Her ravaged chest, which missed chunks of flesh, heaved and a wail he didn’t know where she found the strength to produce forced past her bloody, split lips that were swollen inside out.

“The pain is too bad—I’m going to
die
. Please
help
me,” she begged, her voice full of agony. “Pleeeeeeee
eeeeeeease
kill me.”

He listened to her sobs, watched her agony until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Cade reached behind him and pulled his pistol then leaned down close to her ear.   The stench of death, coppery blood and ravaged flesh overwhelmed him, but he needed to tell her. 

“Amelia, this is Domingo—I will take care of your son.  I promise you he will have a good life and I will keep him safe for you.”

She sucked in a shallow, ragged breath then nodded. “Oh thank God,” she whimpered and her chest rattled again, louder because he was so close. 
Pneumonia? Emboli? Broken ribs?  Punctured lung?
  Probably all of the above he thought with despair.

Yes,
yes
—” she hissed, her chest rattling and popping as she wheezed for breath.  “Just kill me and go before they kill you—they are devils!”

Not before I do some killing of my own, he thought, as he put his pistol to her temple, turned his head and pulled the trigger.  Her body jerked, but her whimpers ceased and her breath came out in a peaceful rush.  He was taking out as many of those cockroaches on humanity as he could before he left here.

This was not what he was supposed to be doing.  Cade had set out to save lives, that’s all he’d ever wanted to do with his life—not take them.  And the reason that trajectory changed was he let Phil Winters affect his life choices.  It was time he made his own choices, which didn’t include going back as a CIA ghost operator.

He couldn’t, because he’d just committed himself to at least eighteen years of caring for a child that probably
was
that degenerate’s son.  Cade reached for the blanket and pulled it back over her head and said a prayer for her, even though he had no idea what he was doing.

Walking to the door, he opened it and a man stood there.  Their eyes met, Cade did a quick survey of his expensive purple silk shirt, pot gut and slicked back greasy hair, and quickly assumed this must be the jefe.  He lifted his pistol and shot the man right between the eyes.  The man beside him gasped and lifted his rifle, but Cade put a bullet between his eyes too, then stepped over the bodies to hurry down the hall.

He had no idea where he was going, but figured as long as he was going up he’d eventually get to the roof.  His heart pounded in his chest with each flight he took upward, each hall he went down to find the next, feeling like a rat in a maze.  He figured he’d gone up five floors by the time the next set brought him to a metal door.  Hesitating there, he texted Logan and told him he was on the roof and to wait for his signal.

Cade had no idea if they were still at the landing zone, or if they’d lifted—or if picking him up on the roof was even possible.  He still had twenty minutes or so in his hour, but the way Hawk’s text sounded they were pulling out early, and there was no way he could get to the LZ in that time anyway. 

Whatever, Cade thought, as he attached the grenade launcher to his rifle and loaded one inside.  He was about to have his last hurrah as a killer, and planned on making it damned good.

He stood and pushed open the metal door, heard the heavy gunfire going on, but had no idea who the bandits could be shooting at.  Maybe the moon, he thought, as he snuck out and hid behind a vent pipe.  Like that guard he relieved, they were probably all drunk and that worked in his favor.  Pressing his back into the wall, Cade eased around the vent pipe then down the wall to the corner. 

A quick duck around the corner told him one guy manned the machine gun, another fired rifle rounds from the far corner, and the other was holding the blanket of rounds to help feed them into the gun.  It was very easy to set his rifle on semi-auto and pop off bullets into each of their melon-like heads.  Once they stopped moving, he ran to the machine gun, straightened out the blanket and grinned as he swung it toward the center of the compound where he saw men crouched on the ground firing into the woods.  Others were closer to the woods firing too, making moves as they could toward the tree line. 

The armory tent blazed brightly and concussions filled the air as mortars exploded and bullets pinged off of the side of the house.  Cade lifted the gun and aimed at one end of the first line of men on the ground nearest the house and pulled the trigger, spraying bullets to the other end, enjoying the sight as their bodies jerked and spasmed.  Pivoting, he moved the gun’s barrel to the second wave of shooters nearest the woods and sprayed bullets as they scattered and kept firing until they all fell. 

When he was sure they were all dead, he moved his aim to the guard shack and fired into it until he ran out of ammo.  Grabbing the rifle, he aimed the attached grenade launcher at the shack and fired a grenade into the window, and smiled when it exploded inside.  A jeep cranked and sped across the compound toward the gate, and Cade quickly reloaded the launcher and fired into the three men inside.  The round exploded ejecting them, the vehicle flipped on its side and he grinned.  His ears were ringing, so it took a moment for him to realize the gunfire had stopped, except for the bullets coming from the tent.

He reached into his pocket to grab his phone but saw a text.

We don’t leave men behind.  Hot on the roof in five—be ready, Rambo. 

And then he heard the rotors, looked up and saw his ride home.

Cade felt like a zombie as he barely put one foot in front of the other to walk from the helipad to the Humvee.  He didn’t pick up any of his gear, because he didn’t think he had enough left in him to carry it.  The others were in the same condition. They left everything as it lay as well.  Nearly nightfall again, they’d been up right at twenty-four hours and lived a month in that span of time.  That’s how much they’d been through, and he thanked God it was over. 

Not the way he wanted it to end—but over.

After Hawk picked him up on the roof they made the first of three flights in and out of Mexico to that compound to get all of the women out.  Logan agreed to do it when he said there were at least thirty other women there who’d have no food or water for days.  Not that those monsters would have provided it for them if they’d have left them alive.

Those evil demons were in hell now—right where they belonged.  And the trafficked women were in the hands of border patrol and ICE where they’d at least be cared for until they were deported to their home countries which ranged from San Salvador to Guatemala, there was even one girl from Haiti in the mix.  Most needed medical care so they were brought to the hospital from the landing zone.  All in all it had been a productive mission.

Except for the one woman they couldn’t save. 

Flashes of Amelia’s horrific cries, her condition, flitted through his mind again and Cade’s stomach lurched.  Every time he closed his eyes he saw her ravaged face, heard those cries in his head.  He hoped that would eventually go away, but he was very afraid those images would be with him for a long while, along with the guilt and horror of having to do what she asked of him.