Page 7 of Depths of Destruction

"The U.S.," Malin responds.

My suspicions automatically rise. "Why?"

Malin shrugs. "Not sure. But not our job to question our orders.”

That's the truth.

"But how did the U.S. even know about this?"

"Once again, not our job."

He's right. Questions get people killed.

My job over the last seventeen years with Interpol has been to run point on rescue missions. I've been all over the world. When my contract was renewed last, I got full power to handpick my team. We're typically the first ones called in if it's a level ten, which means it is of the highest importance and the most dangerous.

We usually aren't privy to why a rescue is high priority. The powers that be dictate our missions. We work to keep peace internationally, not for only one country.

"Watch this." Hunter hits a button on his phone.

The most stunning woman I've ever laid eyes on stares into the screen—she has long black hair, bright-blue eyes, and the most incredible set of bee-stung lips I've ever come across. Her voice only falters once, but as she relays the message, it grows stronger and more confident.

There is fear on her face, but she's composed, almost defiant. It's something I've rarely seen with hostages and never before with a woman.

Naomi Salazar.I hit the replay button when it's finished to rewatch the video, mesmerized by her. "What else do we know?"

"We have less than twenty-four hours to move on this, or there are going to be consequences. Our sources tell us Naomi does have information on the Belizean leaders. The U.S. wants the information she dug up,” Hunter relays.

"What's the U.S. going to do with it?"

Hunter cocks his head. "Since when do you ask all these questions?"

He's right. I don't know why I'm suddenly so interested. My orders are clear. "Sorry. Anyone else here?"

"We've got our normal team of twelve. Our informant claims there are four women, plus Naomi and her sister, who are being held captive. They are hiding out in the jungle. The women are all in a man-made hole. Santiago Gómez is there as well."

"Santiago Gómez? He's here, in Belize?" It makes no sense to me why the Colombian drug lord would be in this country.

Malin cracks his knuckles. "He wants his brother back."

I scrub my face then point to the map on the table that has been created out of several pieces of tree bark. "How far out are we?"

We spend the next hour going through logistics, and I organize the rest of the crew. I've worked with these men for years, and they are all like brothers to me. Every one of them I'd die for if needed. They are the best of the best.

Kalim Voght, another buddy of mine from our Marine days, I put in charge of the perimeter team. Like every man on my team, he's a sharpshooter, but he knows how to lead and make decisions without emotions interfering. He will also take responsibility for every man under his command, just as I will.

Santiago is reported to have thirty-six men with him. All are armed with machine guns and wouldn't think twice to use them on the women they hold captive, or us.

"So, are we clear, then? Get the women and meet back here. Kill whoever gets in your way," I instruct my men, who all tell me they understand.

When it's dark, we set off. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. The vision of my target is always in my head during these missions. But this time, it's so prominent, it's distracting. Visions of Naomi's bee-stung lips and defiant eyes haunt me, and I need to remind myself to focus, which has never happened in the past.

We travel through the jungle. About a half mile out, we pull our vehicles over. The rest of the way we troop through the woods on foot, wearing night goggles and our protective gear.

We're packing an arsenal: machine guns, handguns with silencers, and knives.

The perimeter is the first place we attack. Using our silencers, we fire off eight shots, hitting every thug directly in the head.

Thirty-six minus eight. Twenty-eight to go.