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Spencer and Drago took off running across the lawn while the bad guys opened fire on the house. The pair darted from tree to tree, using shadows for as much cover as possible. The moon had already set and it was pretty damned dark out here, which also worked to Spencer and Drago’s advantage.
But neither man had made it to the north ridge by the time the fusillade of shooting stopped and one of the groups of hostiles swarmed into the house like so many infuriated fire ants.
“Hurry,” Gunner muttered.
Spencer and Drago sprinted the last few yards and dove for cover.
“Clear,” Spencer reported.
“Clear,” Drago bit out.
“Chas and Poppy are on the trail. I’ll meet you there.”
“Take them up to the hide. We’ll hold the line here as long as we can,” Spencer ordered.
“Roger,” Gunner replied.
He slogged back through the thick undergrowth to Chas and Poppy’s position. They were gone. Good man. Chas had done as ordered and headed up to the fallback position. Gunner raced up the trail, leaving the various traps unsprung. Spencer and Drago would use them to cover their retreats when they came through.
He turned and ran up the steep slope. About halfway up, he heard the sound of a helicopter. Please, God, let that be Tanaka’s men. He reached a clear spot in the path and turned to peer back at the valley through his infrared gun sight. A large helicopter settled squarely in the center of the valley in the only reasonably open area on the property.
He watched through his night optical gear in horror as a dozen men, mostly Caucasian, streamed out of the bird—dammit, this could be more Oshiro gang members.
But his chagrin turned to shock as the newcomers were cut down before their feet touched the ground. The pilot tried to bug out, but the copter came under withering fire and smoke started pouring out of the engine section. It slammed back down to the ground, and the pilot emerged with his hands over his head. The bastards in the trees shot him where he stood.
“What the hell was that?” Spencer whispered.
“I think the Oshiro factions just resolved their differences,” Gunner replied dryly. “One side just slaughtered the other side. Although I couldn’t tell you which bunch was which. But they sure as hell made our job easier.”
Drago breathed, “I’m still counting at least two dozen hostiles out here. We’re a long way from out of the woods.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.Gunner realized he was chanting the word with each step he took as he turned and sprinted up the trail. What were the odds they could go full defensive and egress out of this area with Chas and a baby in tow, and not get caught and mowed down like that pilot?
The terrain at the top of the ridge was rocky and open and provided precious little cover. There was no way to pass through this jungle without leaving a trail either. Not with an amateur and a baby.
They were well and truly screwed.
If this were a normal SEAL mission, he would call in all the air support that could be mustered, as well as whatever standoff support troops had been deployed along with the primary operating team.
He heard Spencer and Drago beginning to fire below him. Dammit. The hostiles were headed this way. They were running out of time to pull a miracle out of their asses.
God, he missed having all the resources of a SEAL team right now. Hell, they could call in a search-and-rescue bird to come pluck them off this mountain and fly them out—
It was a long shot, but what the hell. They were going to die up here. They were so ridiculously outnumbered and outgunned, it was laughable. If nothing else, the hostiles could simply wait for the three of them to run out of ammo and then hunt them all down and kill them at their leisure.
Horror at the idea of Chas and Poppy being executed in cold blood made him stumble, and he jerked his attention back to the path beneath his feet.
He spied the boulders ahead and put on one last maximum burst of speed. He leaped for cover and landed hard beside Chas and Poppy, both of whom lurched in surprise as he dropped down beside them. He frantically pulled out his cell phone and waited impatiently as the call went through. It was a Hail Mary pass, but it was all he could think of.
“Charles Favian. How may I help you?”
“Charles, it’s Gunner. Use my satellite phone to get my position. We’re on Oahu. We’re under attack and we can’t hold off this force for much longer. Do you have any resources at all you can call in to help us? We’re desperate.”
“Oahu, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t call in active-duty forces since you’re not on a government op, but there are a crap ton of retired SEALs in Hawaii, and I know a few of them. Lemme see what I can do.”