Justice (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 2) (4 page)

No other friendlies left on the premises, he’d performed a quick, computer-activated lockdown.

The last frame of the video showed one woman arguing—without the benefit of audio—with Ambassador Lawless. Had to be his daughter Matilda although on screen she was just a smudgy figure with her back to the camera.

Following the 2008 attacks, all of the structures in the complex had been reinforced with built-in safe rooms. And that was the only reason we could even begin to hope the ambassador and his daughter were still alive.
They’d been sequestered in the far left corner of the building within the high-level, attack-resistant bunker meant to keep them safe from peril. Occupying the space of six rooms out of the dozens more now shut off, they sought to outwait or outwit the invaders.

But who knew how long they could hold out in there? Any and all attempts by sympathetic forces had been staunchly met with firepower and resistance. And it was safe to say the PSO—Yemeni internal law enforcement—had its own corrupt agenda.

The rebels were not backing down. They wanted hostages or more dead Americans, and they had them, whether they were in hand or not.

Over the intervening hours, more offensives had whittled down the building’s structure until it resembled a burned out husk. Each blitz aimed at flushing Lawless out.

We couldn’t go in through the roof—what was left of it bristled like black spikes with rifle-toting terrorists.

The front door?

Fuck.

There was no front door anymore.

“That only leaves one other option.” I decided, clicking off the tablet and stowing it away.

Sana’a, Yemen

THE INFLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT—commonly known as verbal abuse—arrived when Walker left his copilot’s seat, less green around the gills than usual. He took the sway of the bird in stride, like a sailor walking the swells of a mighty deck.

He rubbed his hands together. “Pretty boy figured shit out for us yet?”

I knew what this was. One last moment of levity before we went postal down below.

My first time in charge of a mission.

Testing grounds.

Everyone counting on me,
the pretty boy
.

Well, I wasn’t that pretty—inside or out—no matter what they thought.

Bane made no comment, pretending to be asleep.

“Hey. Wake up, Mr. Clean.” Walker kicked his boot, and Bane snarled in his direction. “You hear me, soldier?”

Lifting a lazy middle finger, Bane flipped him off. “I ain’t no soldier.”

“And I ain’t no pretty boy, but I do have a plan.”

“Don’t believe him,” Bane muttered. “He was just whining about shit like
can’t go over it, can’t go under it . . .
”

I groaned, my head in my hands.

Walker whacked me on the back. “Can’t you just hack into the controls of that fancy safe room set-up? Get us inside the cyber ops way?”

Slanting down in my seat, I raised my chin. “”Course I could. Child’s play. But we’d still need to get close to the compound undetected. And I think I figured it out, but it’s not gonna be a joyride.”

Unperturbed, Walker plunked down. “Great. If the plan’s fucking up the enemy, inside and out, I’m all for that. Brought a new toy too.”

“What’s that?” I hooked an eyebrow in his direction. “A dildo?”

Bane choked on a laugh, but Walker?

Walker’s face lit with a tinge of pink beneath his darker skin.

Interesting.

Couldn’t recall him ever blushing before.

I’d have to remember to use that info for later.

Walker cleared his throat. “Not a dildo, fuckhead. My new M183 demolition blocks.
Satchel charges
,” he said. “Gives me a boner for bombs. Dying to try them out.”

“Dying being the keyword. You’re such a
geardo
.” I folded my hands over my belly and lengthened my legs in front of me.

He stomped on my booted foot. “What’s the plan, schmuck?”

“I think I’ll wait until we land. No sense going over it without Storm here.”

Bane growled something insulting about Storm I chose to ignore.

“Think you can keep it in your pants this time?” Walker shoved my foot away from his.

“Why don’t we talk about that dildo, dude?”

Walker’s face blazed up a second time.

I chuckled, leaning my head back. “Oh yeah. That’s right. You said dynamite was your new toy of the month.”

“I’m gonna put a stick of dynamite up your ass if you don’t watch it.”

“Watch my ass, Walker? Have you been?” I smirked.

“Hardly, Yoda.” He cut a glare at me, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Speaking of
ass
ets. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve never fucked an asset before.” I punched forward, my hands hanging between my knees.

“Probably fucked an ass or two though,” Bane cut in.

Chuckle chuckle.

“A tight hot ass is just as good as a warm wet pussy. Right, Walker?” I winked at the man.

“Nothing wrong with a piece of tail.” He patted the braid down his back. “But it ain’t
my tail
getting had.”

I had no further comment. I’d seen Jade in action in the field. It was a pretty sure bet she was a wild thing in the sack.

Leaning forward, I bumped Walker’s fist.

****

Hours later we’d touched down at Al Anad airstrip.

I’d run through the plan not once, not twice, but three times because Storm glared with wicked eyes at Bane, Bane popped his knuckles and scowled, and Walker? Walker looked way too gung ho about the possibility of getting his explosives on.

Just getting from the outpost in Lahj Province to Sana’a had been less than party time. But true to her word, Blaize had transport in place every step of the way.

Now we were in the bombshelled city, and all bets were off. We were on our own, and I was mission leader.

We soundlessly glided through the dark streets, hoofing it on foot through the route I’d mapped earlier. A vehicle had been placed at our ready for escape, but the entry had to be quick, quiet, and unforeseen.

Care of the siege and ongoing warfare, a curfew was in affect for Sana’a’s citizens, and all except the terrorists and patrolling forces were holed up inside.

“Got a bad feeling this whole place is crawling with unfriendlies,” Storm mumbled.

“Thanks for the heads-up, sunshine,” I hissed at him.

Dressed head to toe in black, our faces painted, too, we stuck to the shadows. I signaled with my fist in the air as a patrol unit from the militant PSO cut too close to our path.

Storm, Bane, and Walker at the rear, dropped to a crouch. A pebble rolled into a ditch, and suddenly four guns locked on our positions, beaming bright blue-white lights in our faces.

Officers in Yemen’s Political Security Organization were a major threat. They had no love for Americans. If they sounded the alarm, other units would converge on us.

I didn’t even need to give the kill order.

As a group we rushed forward. We couldn’t let them get shots off.

Walker took one down to the pavement.

I unleashed blows on another, throwing his sidearm across the road.

Bane leaped onto one of the PSO’s backs like a monkey and snapped his neck with snake-like precision.

Storm exploded with silent fury, bashing his opponent’s skull to the ground.

I took a blow to the face before unsheathing my blade and slicing it across the neck of the man beneath me. Blood washed over my hands, slicking my fingers in red-hot crimson. Glancing over at Walker as my prey gurgled out bloody bubbles, I saw him stab and twist his blade, but another officer appeared out of the gloomy night, intent on Walker.

It took me two seconds to flip a shuriken into my hand. The throwing star with the saw-sharp talons sheared through the air.

Walker recognized the whistle of the weapon, ducked out of the way, and reached up in time to crank the head of the fresh assailant as soon as he swayed on his feet, blood gushing from the shuriken’s path across his chest.

Death toll: five.

We didn’t stop to take a breath or slap backs. Hurrying to clear the street of our clean kills, we carried the bodies into a bleak black building Storm forcefully shouldered into.

“Well, this isn’t going according to plan,” he said.

I looked up from digging through their weapons and walkies. “Don’t think we’ve ever done anything according to plan.”

“Truth.”

Most of their gear was shit. I passed out the walkie-talkies though, and we all lowered the volume to zilch, pocketing them along with the guns and extra ammo.

Using bottled water and scraps of cloth, we quickly wiped off the stains of killing. Just another day in the motherfucking life.

My pulse hadn’t even started to pound during the fight.

Storm eased the door closed after we exited, and padlocked it from his personal treasure trove.

We encountered no further resistance along the way, but I kept a steady eye peeled in all directions. We snaked through the city, only occasionally hunkering into alleys to avoid the lights of the vigilant PSO and the rowdy roundup calls of Houthi rebels.

Sherping our packs, locked and loaded and ready, we stopped exactly two blocks away from the embassy compound.

Bane pried a round galvanized cap from the surface of the road. He hefted it aside and waited, his flashlight lighting only to shine down below in a cursory inspection.

Nodding once, he motioned us forward.

We dropped silently into the sewer network, its dank dark recesses and stench rankling my nose, the ankle-high murky water muffling our tread.

The light from above blanked completely out when Bane housed the sewer cap back into its rounded-out space. He splashed with a small shiver of water behind us.

No light.

No fresh air.

Almost a tomb.

Rats scurried—snicks of claws on concrete were impossible to ignore.

The tunnel was tight, one large man abreast if that. I curved my fingers to follow the hollowed out walls, taking lead and talking in a hushed tone once I turned on my coms unit.

“Half a klick ahead we should reach the basement. Keep it nut to butt.”

Water slurried around our feet and slushed forward. Above us, it sounded like heavy artillery moved in. The ceiling—the bottom of the road—rumbled. Silt and cement rained from up top. All was black in front of me.

All I could think about was this Matilda Lawless. I’d only seen a ghost of her image on screen. Her name made her seem old, but maybe she wasn’t.
Maybe
she hadn’t even gone to her first high school dance, had her first kiss.

But she’d adamantly—stubbornly—stayed put with her dad.

I’d never failed a mission.

I wouldn’t fail her.

“I ever tell you how much I hate tunnels?” Storm sloshed behind me.

“I’m feeling claustrophobic.” Walker tunneled closer.

I turned my head briefly. “Remember that one time in—”

“Lahore,” Bane added, bringing up the rear.

“Thought that was Libya that time.”

“And don’t mention Cuba.”

“Or
Kazakhstan
.”

“The Icky-stans,” Walker added.

Muffled laughs over the coms.

Laughs that ebbed one-by-one as we heard it.

A scream that overtook our voices.

Actually, almost a whistle.

That high pitched sound of explosive metal, but bigger.

Deadlier.

Oh, fuck.

“Incoming!” I shouted.

Is it Me, or is it a Sana’a in Here?

LOOKING BACK, I SAW the big ball of fire in the enclosed space, the head of a hot missile drilling toward us at a fast clip.

The heat welled, swelling around us with no place to escape. It crackled to my toes until they felt burned inside curled boots.

We ran hell for leather, dropping all pretenses except to get the fuck out of there alive.

An oxygen-swallowing sound echoed toward us. A
whoosh
like all the air expelled from a giant’s enormous chest . . . And the heat. Heat that would raze the earth. Singe flesh from bone. Tear skin from limb. Hurtling toward us.

My eyelids dried open in the flash fire rolling on our heels.

My fingers that felt like burnt cinders turning to white-hot ash.

My vision grew distorted, wavy, then red-black.

A door.

A door ahead.

How much time?

I pelted against it. There was no handle, no entry. Storm added his shoulder, and Bane pounded with his fist.

Sweat dripped down my face. My eyes felt seared closed.

I barked out, “Walker! C-4!”

“No time.” He looked grimly back. “Then there’d be nothing between us and this fucking big-ass RPG anyway.”

“There’s nothing between us now!”

The missile was followed by another, twin screams heading straight for us while we stood just outside our safety zone.

“You should’ve bypassed the system like Walker said, Justice.” Beads of sweat popped out on Storm’s brow.

“And leave the ambassador and his daughter at the mercy of terrorists?” I grunted, trying to pry open the door, but it had an interior spinlock and was probably three feet thick. “No way to know if I could get it back online.”

“Thought you were a genius.” Storm crowded beside me.

“I am a motherfucking genius. Now shut the fuck up and help me!”

My muscles bunched, and the heat rolled around us, thick and blanketing.

No way.

No fucking way was I getting gutted by a terrorist RPG.

The hot nose homed in, its red snout rounding the last corner. The screech as the second one scraped the wall shuddered down my entire body.

“OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR! IT’S X-OPS, YOU BASTARD, LAWLESS!”

“Jus.” Walker turned to me, his face red as a devil in the light of imminent impact.

“Shut your fucking mouth. Think I’m taking you back to Jade in a pine box?”

Bane and Storm bellowed loud enough to tear their throats out:

“Open this goddamn door right now if you ever wanna get out of this godforsaken hellhole!”

A squeak sounded.

The RPG was too close.

The wheel on the other side of the door rolled, but Walker placed himself in front of us and raised his arms as if he was the fucking Messiah and his body alone could block the incoming fire.

“Faster, you FUCK!” I railed against the door, everything warping in painfully slow motion.

The door creaked. The missiles blew dust off the sewer walls as it arrowed in on us.

My face strained, and I jacked Walker back by the scruff of his neck. “Got a goddamn death wish or what?”

One yard left until the RPGs makes impact with us.

It was seconds, blinding white seconds. My shoulders bulged, and I held Walker right by my side. Suicide overkill motherfucker.

The hot cones bore closer. The door edged heavily open—them pulling from the inside, us pushing from the outside with muscles straining all over our bodies.

We busted inside at the last moment. Storm and Bane collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs when we broke through, but Walker and I wheeled around and, joined by Lawless, we cranked the heavy cast iron door closed as quickly as we could.

After securing the lock, we threw Lawless and his daughter to the floor in the far corner of the room, and the four of us covered them with the armor of our bodies, hoping like hell the door would hold.

Two massive explosions ricocheted beyond the solid door. Flames licked, white-hot as the earth’s core, where cracks appeared at the edges. The collision buckled the iron inward with an almighty groan.

And outside . . . the ear-battering, endless crashing as the tunnel collapsed.

The door held.

Smoke, sooty and dark, drifted in through the fissures in the door.

With a final floor-shuddering quake, the last part of the tunnel seemed to settle.

Enveloped in ringing silence, I pulled off the huddled mass of people on the floor. Walker rose, Storm then Bane, too. I reached down with a hand, helping Ambassador Lawless to his feet. Behind him, the most protected . . . Matilda.

“Miss Lawless?” Bending forward, I gripped her by the elbows and helped her stand. “Are you okay?”

“Well”—she gave a little shake of her head and brushed down the sleeves of her shirt—“that was only the second attack today so I’d say that’s an improvement, wouldn’t you, Mister—”

She turned, confronting me with clear, soft green eyes and hair the color of ripe peaches. In fact, everything about her was ripe—my quick, discreet once-over—confirmed that impression.

My mouth instantly dried up, and my heart started quaking.

Holy shit.

Absolutely floored, I stood with my eyes riveted to her.

How the woman looked good enough to eat, damn well good enough to bed, in the middle of a crisis, I had no idea.

And what a woman she was. Not the gangly, geeky-looking teenage girl or the old maid her name implied. No freakin’ way.

“To whom do I have the pleasure of offering my thanks?”

Hell if I know.

She held out her hand with a slight smile, dipping a sweet dimple in her right cheek where tiny freckles crossed the bridge of her nose then scattered away.

I couldn’t make my tongue work. It seemed to have gotten stuck to the roof of my mouth, but at least it wasn’t hanging out and drooling all over the floor.

Walker thumped me on the back, and I coughed.

Then I belatedly wiped a grimy palm on my pants before pressing it against her still extended one. “Justice, Miss Lawless. Ma’am.”

She laughed with throaty ease—a sound that was pure sin—remarkable for one who’d almost been on the receiving end of death’s blade for over twenty-four hours.

“Ma’am?” Her nose crinkled, highlighting the soft copper freckles. “Tilly’s what I’m called.”

Tilly.

Didn’t that just roll off the tongue when I tried it out?

“Tilly. I’m Justice, this here’s Walker, Bane, and Storm.” I pointed to each man, thankful none of them stared at her the way I did, like she was an oasis of female flesh after decades of celibacy.

A lick of sweat trickled down the side of my face, and—sweet Christ—Tilly’s seafoam green eyes tracked it all the way as it dripped off my jaw and followed the straining cords of my neck.

I wiped the drop away with my thumb, and her head snapped up. At the same time we became aware of the hum of quiet conversation behind us.

Ambassador Lawless hooked her around the shoulders and drew her to his side while we finished the short introductions.

With his shirtsleeves rolled up, his bearing military, and appearing strong as an ox, Lawless stood tall as as me—a good six foot three—and despite being thirty years my senior, it showed only in his sterling silver hair that might’ve once been just a few shades more red than Tilly’s.

Tilly.

Fuck.

This time the mission might not be the most dangerous thing I encountered.

I kept my gaze trained completely off her when I grasped her father’s hand, his paw as big as mine. “Ambassador.”

“I think we can dispense with Ambassador Lawless under these circumstances, don’t you, men? Just call me James.”

I didn’t relax my stance. Couldn’t when he looked at me with strict eyes, a darker, mossier green than
Tilly’s
.

We inspected the door and its near destruction, listened to the collapsed tunnel shifting on the far side of it.

“Fuck, Ambassador. Who the hell’d you piss off?” Storm hooked his finger in his gun belt.

Lawless smoothed gray hair off his brow. “The usual, it appears.”

“Well”—I leaned a shoulder against the wall—“there goes our escape route.”