Page 4 of Delta Mission (Alpha Tactical Ops)

Makenna

I aimed my Glock at the woman in the green scarf and yelled at her not to move.

But she was like a demon with her black robe swishing around her legs as she slashed the knife side to side.

The way she held the dagger confirmed she’d had combat training, but her burqa shielded her movements, making it impossible to gauge which way she would lunge.

She would stick that knife into me at the first chance she got.

Lyle ran through the door. His wide eyes blazed with fear. “Makenna, we have to—”

The woman moved so quickly behind Lyle, I didn’t have time to warn him. She held the blade to his neck, using him as a shield.

“No!” Lyle clawed at her hand.

But she wedged the knife tighter. A trickle of blood oozed down his neck, proving how sharp that blade was.

“Drop the gun,” she yelled at me in Dari Persian.

Speaking her language, I said, “Okay. Okay. Here, look, I’m putting my weapon down. Take it easy.”

I lowered my gun to the dirt.

“What are you doing, Makenna?” Lyle shook his head; his eyes screamed his fear.

We had both witnessed a man die by having his throat slit. It had been via satellite footage, yet it was still gruesome and shocking. A cruel way to die.

Lyle was not going to die here. Not like this.

I raised my hands, trying to calm the woman. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just want the drugs, that’s all.”

“You’ll never get them.”

That confirmed the drugs were here. It also meant this woman would kill both of us to escape.

“Just let him go, and we’ll leave.” I met Lyle’s eyes, trying to portray calm. But my heart thundered in my ears. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something.

My only other weapon was my knife, but the woman had the upper hand. One move from me, and Lyle was dead.

Where was Channing? That asshole was supposed to be protecting me.

The rat-tat-tat of AK-47 bursts echoed down the street. I'd heard that sound way too many times and it was as loud as the shouts from the soldiers.

The situation was getting out of control.

With one eye on Lyle and my heart jammed in my throat, I glanced out the window.

The Hummer exploded. Metal and glass shot in all directions. I ducked down.

The woman shrieked, sliced the knife over Lyle’s neck, and tossed him toward me.

“No!” I lunged at Lyle, catching him as he collapsed.

We landed in a tangle of legs and arms on the cushions, and I pulled Lyle onto my lap.

He clutched his neck. Blood oozed through his fingers.

“Oh Jesus, Lyle! No. No. No!” I clamped my hands over his, trying to stem the blood flow.

The woman had vanished, leaving the bloody knife on the dirt. But she’d made a mistake. The trapdoor in the floor that she’d gone through had a cushion wedged into the gap, stopping it from closing.

I’m going to kill you, bitch.

Lyle mumbled something.

“Just keep still, Lyle. Help! Someone help!” I increased my pressure on his neck, but not too much that I would strangle him.

Tears pooled in his eyes. “Makenna.”

His voice was barely a whisper.

I leaned forward, bracing to hear what I hoped weren’t Lyle’s final words.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was a brittle croak.

Frowning, I peered into his glistening eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry. This is not—"

“You were right, Makenna.” He sucked in a wet breath.

“Hey, stop this. We’re going to get out of this.”

He swallowed, and it sounded painful. “Make sure you get those bastards.”

Blood oozed through my fingers. “I will. I promise.”

A red bubble spilled from his lips and dribbled down his chin. He blinked, and I leaned closer.

“You’re a good agent, Makenna. Better than me. Please tell my parents—” He choked and jerked beneath me.

“I’ll tell them you love them, Lyle. I promise.” A sob caught in my throat.

“No.” He glared at me. “Tell them I was a hero.”

Tears flooded my vision. “Of course I will. But you hang in there. Channing’s team will save us, you watch.”

I peered out the open doorway. “Help! Please! Channing.”

Where the hell is he?

Lyle groaned.

“They’re coming, I can hear them,” I lied.

Lyle smiled, released a big sigh, closed his eyes and his head rolled sideways.

“No!” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I rocked Lyle in my lap.

No. No. No!

The squeaking sound that had triggered the chaos earlier returned outside. Releasing Lyle, I wriggled out from beneath him and wiped my bloody hands onto a cushion. Sucking in a shaky breath, I snatched my gun from the floor, shuffled to below the window, and inched up to look outside.

The squeak was the wheel on a kid’s tricycle as a boy rode past Trent’s lifeless body. It was like one of those gut-wrenching scenes in a National Geographic Magazine. Only this was happening right now.

Resisting the urge to look at Lyle’s bloody body, I sucked in deep breaths. I couldn’t believe it. He was dead because of me. I’d begged him to approve this mission.

A gunfight continued further down the village and the chaos took me back to Colombia, where I had been certain I was going to die.

I didn't die then, and I sure as hell was not dying now.

My mind split three ways.

What do I do with Lyle and Trent’s bodies?

Where the hell is Channing? And his team?

And what’s beneath that trapdoor?

An explosion jolted me from the chaos crashing through my mind. Clutching my weapon, I forced my brain to make a plan.

But a tremendous roar thundered outside. Fear scraped through me as I imagined a thousand horses galloping toward me.

They probably were.

I have to get out of here.

The trapdoor!

I raced to Lyle, squatted beside him, and rested my hand on his chest. “I’ll make sure you get home to your parents. I promise.”

Clutching my gun, I raised the trapdoor and stared into a black void that was beyond comprehension.

The thundering noise grew louder. Whoever they were, they were arriving fast. And I doubted they were the good guys. Even the hooves sounded angry.

I lay on my stomach and peered down the hole. It took a few beats for my eyes to adjust. A rope ladder dangled from two hooks below the floor.

Clenching my jaw, hoping I wasn’t about to get a knife in my back, I slipped into the hole and onto the first rung of the rope ladder.

I pulled the trapdoor down and when I released my hold on the earth above, the ladder swung wildly beneath my feet. In complete darkness, I scrambled to the bottom. Crouching down and holding my hands forward so I didn’t crash into anything, I edged away from the ladder.

I found a wall and felt along it until I bumped into a table. Feeling in the dark, I crawled under the table, pulled my knees to my chest, and did something I hadn’t done in nine years.

I prayed.