Slow is smooth, smooth is fast, Zane repeated the phrase in his head as he lifted the rifle to his shoulder again and turned back for the door. Miller and Stone took up position on either side of the hostages. Hedley brought up the rear.
They moved with stealth back to the balcony where Zane and Hedley provided cover and Miller and Stone took the hostages over the railing and down to the ground. In the jungle around them, nothing moved, just like they’d planned. The lack of noise from the front of the compound confirmed Ryder’s team had taken out their targets and that everything was downhill from here.
When they were safely on the ground, they resumed position and headed for the southwest corner of the compound again, where Ryder’s team of four waited.
Just as they rounded the corner, an explosion rocked the compound. The force of the blast shot Zane’s body backward. He landed on his back with a crunch, his ears ringing. Coughing through the smoke pouring out of a giant hole in the first floor, he rolled to his stomach. Gunfire lit up the night sky. Something sharp ripped through his left quad.
He struggled to his feet. Swayed but found his balance. Disbelief rushed through him as he held up a hand to block the smoke and dust from getting in his eyes while he scanned the blown out building. His entire body went still when his gaze caught sight of Humbolt, five feet away on the ground, blood oozing from multiple cuts and scrapes over his arms and face and seeping like a river from the man’s ears.
Humbolt’s eyes were wide and lifeless, his body limp. Draped over his torso, the woman also lay dead, her eyes staring out into space, a hole the size of a melon in her abdomen.
No. Disbelief churned to panic, then boiling rage. No!
“Goddammit, Archer!” a voice yelled from somewhere close. “Get back!”
A hand grasped his fatigues, dragging him tight to the side of the blown-open building. He stumbled then fell to his ass. His back hit the crumbling stucco. A burn like dynamite lit up his left leg, and his vision swam. Struggling to see, he found Miller through the smoke, covered in soot, pulling Stone back in the same manner.
The ringing in his ears prevented Zane from hearing shit going on around him, but he recognized the ricochet of bullets hitting dirt, thought maybe he’d been hit—somewhere—but still couldn’t focus on anything except Humbolt lying dead against the earth.
His principal. Four minutes, twenty-three seconds after the start of the op.
“…Humbolt’s fucking dead!” Hedley hollered into his com unit. “No. One man down. Leg. I don’t know. It’s gushing. We need to get the bloody fuck out of here!”
In Zane’s earpiece, Ryder’s muffled voice rattled off commands, but the words were too dim to make out. They always had a backup plan ready to go in case things went wrong. Their backup in this case was to haul ass out before anyone else got dead, then reconnoiter two klicks south of the compound and rendezvous with the chopper.
How had it gone so wrong? Zane had led the planning phase of the mission himself. They’d known exactly how many guards would be on site, what kind of weapons they’d be up against. The firepower raining down around them and the carefully timed explosion signaled they’d been compromised.
Hedley dragged him to his feet, bracing an arm under Zane’s to hold him up. Through the smoky haze, Zane saw Hedley’s mouth moving as the Aussie screamed directions, but that fucking ringing was growing louder, drowning out most sound. In the distance, two bodies rushed toward them through the smoke. Zane lifted a hand that held no gun. Shit, where was his rifle? He pointed, had no idea if he screamed or not. Hedley whipped around with his weapon just as Jake Ryder and Pierce Bentley appeared through the debris.
Zane nearly went down as soon as Hedley let go, but somehow managed to prop himself against what was left of the wall. Dirt and sweat slid into his eyes and messed with his vision. His lungs burned. The scent of searing flesh and rubber was all he could focus on. Ryder signaled the roundup as the rest of his team fired back at the tangos spraying bullets from the second floor and the outer wall where Zane and his team had just been. Hedley wrapped an arm around Zane’s waist, pulled Zane’s wrist over his shoulder, and forced him low as they moved under the balcony and stayed out of the line of fire. Behind him, Stone hauled Humbolt’s body through the debris and followed.
Zane lost track of time, wasn’t sure how the hell they made it through the jungle and to the chopper alive. All he knew when he got there was that he was sweating like a motherfucker, he couldn’t feel his leg anymore, and his principal was dead.
Dead.