Thirty-Four
Leaving Jesse tied and gagged in the motel room next door, Ben, Jake and Alex spent the day making plans. Using Jesse’s information, Sol was able to locate the road into the compound via his satellite link. Trace downloaded photos that revealed the narrow, heavily overgrown dirt track winding deep into the bayou.
Satellite imagery showed eleven men inside the perimeter hog-wire fence, matching Jesse Bragg’s info, two females, and a smaller individual who had to be Sam.
The compound was set up much like the first, with rustic cabins around an open area, outbuildings and a garden. There was no sign of movement along the road leading into the compound, no sign of anyone guarding it.
By nightfall they were fairly certain which cabin Claire and Sam were being held in and were ready to go in after them. With time of the essence, they couldn’t recon the area beforehand. They would have to make do with Sol’s intel and the information reluctantly provided by Jesse Bragg.
Faces streaked with black greasepaint, dressed head to foot in night camouflage, tactical vests, and carrying semi-automatic pistols, stun guns and flash grenades, they loaded into the SUVs, armed for the confrontation they hoped to avoid.
Ben drove the lead vehicle, the Tahoe, Alex riding shotgun toward the hidden road leading into the compound. Jake drove the Jeep, Trace at his side, Jesse Bragg bound and gagged in the back, an asset in case he was needed.
By the time they reached the coordinates that marked the turnoff into the muddy, rutted lane, a half-moon had risen, making the night a little too bright, but giving them the ability to move more easily through the dense, boggy terrain.
According to their intel, the compound was three miles deep in the bayou. It sat in a clearing next to a branch of the Black Snake River that slogged along beside it, brimming with alligators and poisonous snakes.
The plan was simple. En route to the compound, Trace would use the sat phone to call the Egansville sheriff and the Houston P.D. He would bring the authorities up to speed on what had happened so far, telling them they had located Claire and Sam, and giving them the location of the secondary compound.
Ben figured it would take the deputies an hour to get organized and reach the camp, plenty of time to get Claire and Sam to safety—or arrive in time to rescue them if the plan went south and he and the others were hurt...or killed.
Once they reached the compound, Jake would position himself in a location allowing him to use the Pneu-Dart X-Caliber tranquilizer rifle he had used on missions before. A former Force Recon Marine sniper, Jake would fire sleep darts to take out the perimeter guards while Ben, Trace and Alex cut through the fence.
Trace and Alex would provide backup and take out whoever happened to get in the way—hopefully without killing them—while Ben went in and brought Claire and Sam to safety.
That was plan A. Get in and get out without the Patriots knowing what the hell had happened, then waiting in a safe location for the sheriff to arrive. Both Troy and Duke were wanted men. The other men in the compound were guilty of aiding and abetting a kidnapping at the very least.
The Braggs had gotten away with breaking the law before, but Ben couldn’t let it happen again. Claire and Sam wouldn’t be safe until Troy Bragg and Duke Hutchins were in prison.
Of course, on any mission there was always a plan B. That was the plan they would use if plan A turned into a major clusterf*ck. That plan included defensive firepower and trying to keep everyone alive while the Patriots, armed to the teeth, rained hellfire down on top of them.
Ben focused on plan A.
The Tahoe bounced over a rock, then tipped sideways as it came out of a deep, muddy rut in the narrow dirt lane.
“Helluva road,” Alex grumbled, bracing himself for another jarring pothole.
“Good way to keep people out,” Ben said.
Alex grinned, cutting dimples into his cheeks. “Most people, at any rate.”
Ben’s smile looked grim. An army of a thousand men couldn’t keep him from going in after Claire and Sam.
“We’re about a half mile out,” Alex said, checking the GPS. “Look over there. Seems like a good spot to park.”
Ben pulled the SUV off the road and turned it around, then backed into the foliage beneath the branches of an overhanging tree. He and Alex dragged a few palm fronds and a couple of dead branches over and tossed them onto the bumper, hiding the vehicle completely.
Both of them piled into the backseat of the Jeep. Ben fixed his gaze on the landscape outside the window, keeping a sharp watch for unwanted company as Jake continued another quarter mile to their insertion point. As they bounced along the rutted road, the men checked their earbuds and mics, and armed themselves for the mission ahead.
Alex slung the AR-15 over his chest, the weapon Ty Brodie had used, while Trace checked his Beretta nine mil, and Ben dropped the clip on his Nighthawk .45 then shoved it back in.
They traveled another quarter mile before Jake pulled the Jeep into a low spot beside the road, turned the vehicle around and parked it in the deep, leafy foliage where it wouldn’t be seen. The men unloaded, leaving Jesse in the back. With a “go” nod to the others, Ben disappeared into the darkness, the men spreading out behind him, traveling the last quarter mile on foot.
The familiar rattle of flash grenades hanging from his vest, the stun gun in a pocket next to them, Ben moved through the thick, wet foliage, the ground soggy beneath his high-top boots.
“I’m in position,” Jake said through Ben’s earbuds.
“Roger that,” each man replied. Ben, Trace and Alex moved to locations thirty yards apart and dropped down in the undergrowth to wait for the guards to appear as they made their rounds inside the fence. Minutes ticked past, an eternity as Ben waited for Jake to take out the guards so Ben could get inside the compound to retrieve his family.
That’s the way he thought of them now. Claire and Sam meant everything to him. He couldn’t imagine life without them. Claire belonged to him, and so did Sam, and he would give his life to protect them.
Through the heavy foliage, he saw the two guards approaching as they completed a round inside the fence. For a moment, they stopped to speak, then started moving, passing each other and continuing on their way. As the distance between them increased, Ben heard the faint thud of Jake’s rifle, saw the first guard stiffen, slap a hand to the back of his neck and go down.
For the time it took Jake to reload his single-shot air gun, the second guard stood immobile, surveying the heavy foliage through the darkness outside the fence where the faint sound of the shot had come from. Then the soft thud came again and he went down as if he’d been cut off at the knees.
“Move out,” Ben said into his mic. Trace and Alex rose like specters out of the deep green grass, all three of them moving carefully toward the fence.
“Hold!” Ben said into the mic, his foot on the edge of a rudimentary booby trap, a hole dug into the earth lined with rows of deadly sharpened sticks. Rudimentary but lethal if you happened to stumble into one.
“Watch for booby traps. These guys mean business.” Moving a little more slowly, testing each step, they converged at the designated point along the fence line and set to work. No alarms here, just empty cans tied to the fence. In seconds, Ben had cut the wire and bent it upward, making a hole for them to pass through. They were inside.
While Ben checked to be sure there was no one around, Alex positioned himself in the shadows next to an outbuilding close to the fence, his AK ready to lay down cover fire if needed. Crouching low, Ben and Trace moved toward the cabin the satellite had shown Sam and Claire going in and out of that afternoon.
Moonlight passed in and out behind the clouds, lighting the way across the compound. No sign of a Patriot. Reaching the opposite side, Ben pressed his back against the rough wooden wall of the cabin, his gun in both hands and pointed upward. He motioned to Trace, who moved into the spot he vacated as he slipped inside.
Finding only three occupants, Ben holstered his .45. Claire lay sleeping on the floor near the corner, while Sam slept next to Aggie on a lumpy mattress over an old-fashioned rope bed. The back door was closed.
Ben started to move just as the older woman stirred, and he froze. Inching into the shadows, he went still, making himself invisible inside the room.
Long seconds passed. Little by little, Aggie relaxed back into slumber and began to snore softly. Ben gave an inward sigh of relief. He looked down at Claire and an ache throbbed in his chest. In a shaft of moonlight coming in through the window, she looked beautiful, her dark hair spread over the pillow, a trace of tears dried on her cheeks.
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, tell her how much he regretted not saying the words before, but there wasn’t time for that now.
Sinking down on a knee beside her, he placed his hand gently over her mouth. Claire’s eyes popped open, wild with fear. Then she realized who it was, and those pretty green eyes filled with tears.
Ben held a finger against his lips, warning her to silence, then took her hand and helped her to her feet. She was wearing a worn cotton nightgown and her feet were bare. She looked exhausted and afraid, and love for her welled in his chest. Bending his head, he pressed a quick kiss on her mouth, then motioned her back against the wall and moved toward Sam.
Ben froze next to the bed. Aggie’s arm lay possessively across the boy’s chest, and though the woman was sound asleep, Sam shifted restlessly. Any minute he was going to wake her up.
F*ck. Drawing his .45, he leaned over the bed and clamped a hand over Aggie’s mouth. When her eyes shot open, he showed her his weapon, motioned her out of bed and onto her feet.
Sam stirred and opened his eyes. “Dad!” The boy shot out of bed and ran toward him. Ben’s throat tightened. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he had wanted to hear that word.
“It’s all right, son,” he said softly, keeping his voice even and his gun on Aggie. “Go over there with Claire.”
Sam’s pale eyes went to the older woman, barefoot and dressed in her nightgown. “Don’t hurt her, Dad. She was nice to us.”
Ben reached out and stroked a hand over his son’s sleep-mussed hair. “We just need her to be quiet until we get out of here.”
With perfect timing, Trace appeared in the doorway, weapon drawn. Ben holstered the Nighthawk, used a plastic tie to bind Aggie’s wrists and feet, then stretched a piece of duct tape over her mouth. He lifted her into his arms and set her gently in the middle of the bed.
“Bye, Aggie,” Sam said as Claire pulled him against her and urged him toward the door.
Trace went ahead of them, checking to make sure it was clear, his pistol in both hands. Ben signaled for Sam and Claire to move out of the cabin, staying close to his side.
It all happened in an instant.
A man walked out of the cabin next door, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. From where he stood on the porch, he couldn’t miss seeing them, and when he did, he started shouting the alarm. Jake fired a sleep dart from his position on the hill, hitting the man in the neck, and he went down, but the camp was already in motion.
Half-dressed men streamed out of the cabins, weapons at the ready, some of them firing though they didn’t have a target. They had drilled for this moment, practiced for the day their camp might be invaded.
Ben shoved Claire and Sam back inside, out of the line of fire, and slammed the door. “Stay in here and stay low!” Across the clearing, Alex laid down a spray of automatic-rifle fire, giving Trace the cover he needed to reach safety behind the woodshed.
Outside the cabin, bursts of gunfire rattled across the compound. Ben strode over and dragged Aggie off the bed. He cut the plastic ties binding her wrists and feet and hauled her toward the door. Ripping off the duct tape, he pushed her out onto the porch, his gun pressed into her ribs.
“Tell them to hold their fire.”
Aggie straightened, didn’t hesitate. “Stop shooting, you fools. You’re gonna get somebody kilt!”
Looked as if killing somebody was exactly the plan, but Ben didn’t say that. “Tell Mace to come forward.”
Aggie flicked Ben a measuring glance, caught the hard set of his jaw. He had a feeling she’d been expecting him, maybe even approved in some way that he had come to save his family.
“Mace, you heard the man. Get yourself out here.”
Only a few seconds passed before the oldest Bragg stepped out of the safety of his cabin. He was big and thick-chested, with a long, shaggy beard. “You Slocum?”
“That’s right.”
“Let my sister go and we won’t kill you.”
“You’ve got armed men, Bragg, but so do we. Here’s the way it’s going down. I’ve come for my boy and my woman. We have your brother Jesse and your sister, Aggie. Three of your men are already down and the sheriff’s on his way. We let Aggie and Jesse go as soon as the sheriff arrives. In the meantime, we all hold our fire and wait.”
Silence ensued. Mace backed up a few paces and disappeared inside the cabin. Ben stepped back into the shadows, Aggie beside him, figuring Mace and the men were talking it over, trying to decide what to do.
“You think he’ll agree?” Claire asked.
“We’ll soon find out.”
Mace stepped into the open doorway. “How do we know you got Jesse?”
“How do you think we found this place?” Ben called back.
Mace cursed. “Stupid son of a bitch.”
“He had a family to protect. So do you, and so do I. You got nowhere to run—not this time. And the sheriff’ll be here any minute. We wait and we all stay alive.”
Even with the faint rays of moonlight, it was too dark to see Mace’s face.
“Gotta talk to the rest of the men.” Turning, he stepped down off the porch, apparently convinced no one was going to shoot him, crossed the open area and disappeared into another cabin.
Ben moved backward, hauling Aggie back inside the cabin. “Hold your positions,” he said into his mic.
Time slid past. The longer it took the better the chance the sheriff would arrive and end the standoff.
“They’re gonna put us all in jail, ain’t they?” the gray-haired woman said.
Ben looked down at her. “Troy and Duke for sure. No way around it. Maybe the rest of you can cut a deal. Sam says you treated him and Claire well. That’ll be in your favor.”
She looked over at Sam, her features softening. “Boy loves you. So does the woman.”
Ben’s chest clamped down as he followed her gaze to his family. Sam stood in front of Claire, both of them facing him, Claire’s hands resting gently on his son’s shoulders. Sam’s gaze followed Ben’s every move, and there was no mistaking the trust in the eyes so like his own.
“I love them, too,” he said gruffly.
Claire’s gaze shot to his, then drifted away. He wondered if she believed him. He didn’t think so. He would find a way to convince her as soon as they got out of this hellhole.
Mace’s deep voice echoed across the clearing. “We’ll wait for the sheriff.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “Good call,” he said. To a man like Mace, his word was his bond. It was almost over.
Unfortunately, almost could be a deadly word.
* * *
Claire leaned against the rough wooden wall, her arms around Sam, who shivered in front of her though it wasn’t cold in the cabin. Ben was keeping watch out the window, Aggie crouched next to him on the floor below the sill.
For an instant, he turned and his eyes met hers. The icy shade stood out even more against the black greasepaint on his face. He looked big and hard and male. More capable than any man she had ever known. She loved him so much.
I love them, too, he had said, and she knew that in a way he meant it. He loved his son and he cared for her. He had come for her, as she had known he would. And though she hadn’t been sure he would find them, she had known with an unshakable certainty deep in her soul that he would come after them. He might not love her the same way she loved him, but he would be good to her. He would make a home for her and his son.
Her throat tightened. All they needed was to get out of there.
Something shifted in the air inside the cabin. Claire turned to see the back door swinging silently open and Duke Hutchins moving into the shadows at the rear of the room. Claire caught the glint of a pistol, the barrel coming up, pointing at Ben’s back.
“Ben!” She didn’t stop to think, just launched herself at Hutchins, knocking him sideways, his pistol discharging as Ben whirled and fired two quick shots in return.
Claire screamed as Duke’s pistol roared again and Ben slammed backward against the wall. Hutchins teetered and crashed to the floor, his gun spinning away.
Shaking all over, Claire raced toward Ben, her heart trying to tear through her ribs.
He caught her against him. “I’m all right, baby. Hutchins is down. I’ve got a vest. I’m bruised, but I’m okay.” Sam ran to them and Ben pulled both of them against him.
Shooting erupted outside the cabin.
“Get down!” Staying low, Ben peered out the window, checking the area in front of the cabin. He rubbed his chest where the bullet had struck as he made his way to where Hutchins lay on the floor.
Claire was certain the man was dead until he started moaning. Crouching, she hurried to the bed, dragged a pillow case off a pillow and tore off a strip. She handed it to Ben, who pressed it against the wound in Hutchins’s chest.
“I’ll tend him,” Aggie said, bending low as she crossed the room in her nightgown and knelt beside Ben. “I got some blame in this. When Troy brung the boy here, he said he didn’t have no kin. Sam was the son I never had and I wanted to keep him. I didn’t know he had family till Troy brung him back and Sam told me. I’m glad you come for him.”
Aggie tore off another strip of cotton and pressed the material over the wound to help slow the flow of blood. She looked down at Hutchins.
“You never was one of us, was you? You just come here to stir up trouble. Troy’s my brother, but you always had a way of turning him bad. You’re lucky this man didn’t kill you.”
Outside the cabin, the shooting had ceased. New sounds reached them. Engine noise, wheels churning up mud, then the single quick bark of a siren as the sheriff’s vehicles reached the gate. Claire crept to the window, peeked over the sill and saw the gate standing open and a line of white SUVs pouring into the compound.
Spotlights lit the clearing. As the deputies streamed out of their cars, men emerged from the cabins, their hands in the air. Jake, Trace and Alex walked into the clearing, their weapons no longer in sight. Jake hauled Jesse Bragg along with him.
As Ben walked out on the porch, a movement caught Claire’s eye. Troy Bragg bolted out the back door of the nearest cabin, running hard toward the darkness and safety of the bayou.
“Son of a bitch!” Ben took off after him. One of the spotlights swung toward Bragg, illuminating his lean figure running flat out toward the swamp. In the round circle of light, Claire saw Ben tackle him, bringing him down hard in the mud at the edge of the bayou. Deputies raced toward the struggling men as Ben dragged Troy to his feet and punched him hard enough to knock him back into the mud.
The deputies grabbed Troy and hoisted him to his feet, pulled his arms behind him, cuffed him and hauled him back toward the clearing. Claire figured Troy was lucky the deputies were there to keep Ben from giving him the beating he deserved.
Ben walked toward her, mud all over his clothes and his knuckles bleeding. He climbed the steps leading up to the porch, and Claire threw herself into his arms.
Ben’s hold tightened around her. “It’s over, angel.” Sam ran up and threw his arms around his father’s waist. Ben smoothed a hand over his son’s dark hair. “Time to take my family and go home.”
Claire looked into his hard, beloved face and burst into tears.