Page 108 of Zorro

D-Day cracked his neck. “Piece of cake, LT.”

Joker nodded once. “I’m counting on it. After that, BOPE floods in. We regroup, and we push as one toward Batista.” There was a pause. The kind that holds breath.

Zorro stepped forward, voice low, thick. “What about the hostages?”

Joker looked at him. Then Buck. D-Day. Blitz. Bree. Izzy.

He nodded toward the women. “They give the signal. We don’t move until they say it’s safe.” His voice dropped to steel. “We save them. Every last one.”

Zorro crouched beside the gilded column just off the mezzanine, Blitz tight at his side, both watching the marble floor below like it was a stage and Bree was about to detonate it.

Which…wasn’t far from the truth.

She strolled into view like she’d wandered off the cover of Tactical Vogue. Two scraps of hot pink clung to her curves in bold defiance of common sense and combat protocol. Her heels clicked against the polished stone with the confidence of a woman who knew men would follow her into hell and ask to carry her beach bag.

Sunglasses perched high on her head, she was tapping at her phone with idle focus, thumbs swiping like she had nothing better to do than conquer Candy Crush.

Zorro shot a look at Blitz, whose jaw was clenched so tight it might crack.

“She’s gonna give me a goddamn aneurysm,” Blitz muttered.

Zorro smirked. “You say that like she hasn’t done it before.”

Below, Bree paused just outside the ballroom doors, phone still in hand, one hip cocked. The guards took notice. Immediate notice. Zorro clocked it…five seconds and three barrels dipped just slightly, their trained discipline unraveling with every click of her heel.

“Halt!”

Bree ignored them completely, her thumbs in motion.

“She’s good,” Zorro murmured, grinning.

Two of the insurgents approached fast, one snatching the phone, the other grabbing her arm none too gently and dragging her toward the ballroom.

She frowned, eyes narrowing behind her oversized sunglasses. “Ugh. You made me lose. I was this close to winning a color bomb and thirty minutes of infinite lives. Do you know how hard that is in a bikini?” Then she focused on them. “What’s happening here?” she demanded, affronted. “This is not the spa.”

The leader snapped, “Lock her inside before the rest of these animals lose it!”

As the doors clanged shut behind her, Blitz leaned his head against the stone and muttered through gritted teeth, “I'm fucking marrying that woman…fucking again.”

Zorro let out a low whistle. “Not if she kills you first.”

Blitz didn’t smile. Just stared at the door like it held half his soul. “Yeah. Worth it.”

Bailee shoved through the rooftop access door, lungs burning, Glock gripped tight, her fingers still tingling from Bear’s hot skin. She swore she could taste his heat on her tongue.

The sun hit her like a blow, hot, blinding, open. She squinted and chaos erupted.

Three Black Dawn operatives were already on the pool deck, weapons raised. Tourists screamed, scattering across lounge chairs and umbrellas. Staff were ducking, crawling, clutching children. The crack of a rifle echoed like a thunderclap.

She didn’t think. She moved. Bailee dropped to a knee and opened fire. All her shots center mass and accurate. But there were more.

She pivoted, adjusted, and fired again. Another man dropped with a grunt.

But they were spreading, advancing toward a family clustered together, an elegant blonde, a Hispanic man, a younger woman, and a man who shielded her body. She ran to them. “Move!” she shouted. Damn if that older man didn’t look familiar, but she had no time to place those expressive eyes. She caught a flash of movement, she turned and dropped another man. “With me.” Her order was clipped as she covered their fleeing backs while running with them to the heavy wooden bar.

Bailee surged forward, snapping off another shot, then ducked behind a poolside bar. Her cover was thin. Her clip? Thinner.

Outgunned. Outnumbered.