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They weren’t going far.

Adrenaline burst through his system. The mood of Gold Team and HRT in general had flipped since news of Kurt’s escape and survival had spread. But they couldn’t afford to get cocky.

DEVGRU were taking the security barracks on the north side of the island. HRT had the medical center, guest cottages, and Gilder’s house where the billionaire was holed up. Before they’d cut him off, he’d been broadcasting a tale of being attacked by American forces.

The pilot put them down on the outskirts of the main building. Thermal cameras hadn’t revealed any hidden heat sources. The guys quickly disembarked and ran for cover, spreading out and taking positions.

No one fired at them.

Jordan followed Shane Livingstone and Will Griffin as they led the way toward the medical center. Live feeds of their night vision and thermal cameras were being broadcast directly back to SIOC.

Shane set a small explosive charge on the door. This way if the place had been rigged to blow, they wouldn’t get caught in the blast wave. They hunkered down behind a low stone wall as Shane counted down to zero and pressed the button on the detonator.

The doors popped off their hinges and fell askew. The guys charged in with practiced precision, all of them noting the two bodies on the floor. Middle aged. One male, one female, wearing white lab coats. Gun shot wounds to the head.

Eliminating witnesses?

Jordan took up the rear, covering their six.

“Hey,” Aaron Nash shouted. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Jordan came forward and poked his head through a door into a room which contained several liquid nitrogen freezers.

Aaron put on big gloves to remove the lid and pulled up a weird ladle-like tube.

“Looks like we have biological samples.” Aaron peered at the labels.

“Labeled with first names.” Aaron frowned as he placed the samples back in storage and replaced the lid.

He walked back into the main room. The other operators had cleared the rooms and stood watch, front and back.

“We found three women in separate rooms that were probably kept locked,” Livingstone stated. “All shot dead. Two were visibly pregnant.”

A cold shiver of alarm ran down Jordan’s spine.

Aaron stared at the equipment. A fancy microscope with large monitors attached. Centrifuges. Machines Jordan didn’t recognize.

Aaron tapped one white box. “This is a CRISPR machine used for gene editing.” This was why they called Aaron “the Professor.” As a former biologist, he knew stuff none of the others had a clue about.

Jordan’s mouth went dry. “Was this son of a bitch trying to make clones?”

“Sure as hell looks that way. ”

And the dead women were the incubators.

Livingstone gave the signal, and they started moving to join up with Charlie squad and the snipers outside.

The authorities were expecting a long siege. HRT was fine with that. They’d wait forever and a day for this motherfucker.

But the doors to the house were wide open, as if inviting them in with welcoming arms.

Luke Romano sent in a drone that could see through doors using Doppler radar. Hugo went next, searching for anyone they hadn’t spotted lurking in the shadows.

Crouched behind another low wall, Jordan had to wonder what drove people like this. Nolan Gilder had everything money could buy, but it still wasn’t enough.

“He’s held up in the panic room,” Aaron muttered.

“How long do you think he can last in there?”

“Months. Until we find the air supply and pump something else in there instead.”

“Yeehaw.” Cowboy slid down beside them.

“Worse places to be stuck, I suppose, but we might have company before then.” Aaron shrugged a shoulder. “According to Novak, before they cut off his communications, Gilder was in touch with his lawyers and is expecting them to arrive any moment to save his ass.”

“Will they?”

“They’ll try.”

Jordan thought for a moment. “I have an idea.”

An hour later, the remaining security team had surrendered to DEVGRU after they realized they were outnumbered and there was no escape.

None of the mercenaries wanted to fight it out with SEAL Team Six.

According to more than one of the mercs, Gilder had gone crazy after Rowena Smith had escaped, shooting many of his own people.

His personal bodyguard, Gerrit Vanguard, had finally taken his gun away and hauled him into the panic room.

Now Gilder was waiting on those lawyers to arrive and save the day.

HRT would do everything they could to prevent that.

Negotiator SSA Jennifer McCreedy was talking at Gilder and his bodyguard via a throw-in speaker they could presumably see and hear as Tactical Command had left them with eyes and ears for now.

Gilder had cameras all over the island, so he had to know he was completely surrounded.

McCreedy was explaining the situation and offering Gilder safe transit to Washington, where they could discuss everything that had happened and clear up any misunderstandings.

Jordan’s lip curled.

It wasn’t that he didn’t respect negotiators. He did. They saved lives. Probably more lives than HRT did, despite the fact it was their motto. However, pretending Gilder wasn’t some sadistic freak curdled his stomach.

He was so full of anger about what this guy had done, it made it hard to be impartial.

Made it hard to want to treat him with the respect he was due as another member of the human race.

Gilder hadn’t treated the women he’d lured here with respect or decency.

According to some of the surviving staff, the women Gilder brought here rarely left.

Tactical Command had taken control of everything within the panic room. They controlled the temperature. The lights which now blazed around the compound. The information they had access to. If their plan didn’t work, they’d manipulate the airflow.

HRT wanted Gilder and his last remaining bodyguard to see they were surrounded and outnumbered and not going anywhere that didn’t involve handcuffs and leg irons.

The noise of a helicopter stirred the air beneath the bright half-moon. A deep red Bell 505 helicopter landed close to the Little Birds.

Jordan and the rest of the team took up defensive positions as they watched a leggy brunette, wearing an expensive charcoal gray suit with pale pinstripes, a crimson blouse with a fancy tie at the throat, and matching skyscraper heels step out of the chopper along with her sleek black leather briefcase.

Jordan stepped into her path as the pilot geared the engines down and other members of HRT checked the machine for weapons. He raised his hand to stop the woman’s progress. “I’m afraid this is a restricted area.”

“I’m from Peterson, Winchester, and Gladwell. I’m here to see my client.” Her crimson lips matched the shoes, and she tilted her head while giving him a crocodile smile. “Nolan Gilder. If you could point me in the direction and inform him that I’m here.”

Jordan lifted his chin. “Mr. Gilder is not currently receiving visitors.”

She handed him a stiff white business card. “He’ll see me. I’m making sure my client has his rights respected and documenting the damage you have done to his reputation.” She cast her gaze around the scene that looked like a military zone. “And to his property.”

She swept past him, and he tried to grab her arm, but she slipped by him with a look of outrage on her pretty features. “Touch me again and I’ll see you in court.”

He held his hands wide. “I’m not letting you go inside and risk this becoming a hostage situation, lady.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “You’re the ones causing the situation. My client has done nothing wrong.”

“A few dead people would tell you otherwise, but they can’t. Because they’re dead.”

She reared back a little. “Let me pass. This is my choice, and I’d like to put an end to this siege before my client gets hurt. He must be terrified.” She glanced around again and shook her head. “If you could show me the way?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Your funeral.”

He led the way through the front door to the back of the house, nodded his head toward the steel vault door behind which Gilder and his bodyguard hid.

“You’ll have to withdraw.” She tapped her foot impatiently and insisted. “No way would my client open the door when there are so many guns pointed at him.”

Shit .

He reluctantly lowered his carbine. “He’s not walking free of this.”

“Is that a threat, Mr… Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Not a threat. You bring him out, and we’ll arrange transportation back to the States. You can join him every step of the way.” His expression narrowed as he watched the door locks turn, then slowly open.

The woman stepped inside, and the door began to close. Tension stretched across every neuron of his body, across the airwaves. Sweat trickled down his back. Ryan Sullivan stood beside him wearing an expression that would have scared any other man.

Thirty seconds passed, and the doors opened again.

Meghan Donnelly stepped out with Nolan Gilder’s arm wrenched high behind his back. Her hair was a little mussed, the knot on the bow of her blouse undone and trailing. Apart from that she looked fine.

Thank God.

Ryan Sullivan grabbed Gilder and thrust him none too gently against the wall.

Jordan rushed forward and pointed his weapon inside the vault. “Where’s Vanguard?”

“Unconscious.” Meghan put her hands on her hips.

Jordan stepped past her and cuffed the prone figure. Then he dragged him out into the hall by his feet and frisked him for weapons. The guy had a backup pistol at his ankle and another at his back.

He grinned at his fellow operator. “ That was fucking amazing. ”

Donnelly smiled back. “Hardest thing was wearing these damned ankle breakers.”

“Where did you get the outfit?”

“Haley Cramer and the captain of the frigate helped fudge it together.”

“That was fucking hot,” Grady Steel high-fived his Charlie team partner.

Romano eyed Donnelly like he’d never seen her before.

Nolan Gilder sneered. “I’ll make you pay for this. All of you. Don’t you know who I am?”

“You mean the rapist guy, or the guy who murdered his best friend guy?” Ryan Sullivan hauled Gilder in front of him.

Gilder sputtered. “You have no proof.”

“Or the guy who was trying to clone himself using unwilling women?”

“They all signed an NDA. I’ll sue those bitches into the ground if they say one word.”

“They won’t have to say a word.” Ryan shoved the guy so he started walking. “The Medical Examiner will be able to figure out the whole story from their corpses.”

“That was him.” Gilder gesticulated wildly with his head as he indicated Gerrit Vanguard, who was now fully conscious. “He went crazy shooting everyone.”

Gerrit’s eyes glittered, but he stayed silent.

“I guess we’ll be able to piece that together from ballistics and DNA we collect from each of the weapons we find, won’t we?”

Gilder’s expression became sullen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want my lawyer. My real lawyer. This was entrapment!”

“You’ll get one. As soon as they finish with you at Gitmo.” Ryan started marching him out.

Gilder’s expression twisted again, this time with horror. “You can’t take me to Gitmo .”

“Sure we can. You’re being held on terrorism charges, motherfucker. It’s called the Patriot Act. Considering you’re probably of Dutch origin, I think you’ll like the uniforms.”

With that he was gone.

Gerrit Vanguard was slowly being brought to his feet by Romano and Steel.

Jordan blocked his way. “How could you work for somebody like that?”

Vanguard gave a nonchalant shrug. “It paid well.”

“Enjoy spending it in prison, asshole.”