Page 16

I t didn’t take long for Darius to ambush Carlos, put him in a headlock until he lost consciousness, zip-tie his hands behind his back, and then hide him in the mud room’s closet.

He was just closing the closet door when Romeo and Costello—both dressed in black and heavily armed—joined him inside the house.

Aside from the storm outside, everything else seemed eerily quiet, but that wasn’t going to last for long.

Romeo handed Darius a black bulletproof vest. With the large amounts of ammo the cartels had available to them, every little bit of protection helped.

He quickly pulled the heavy body armor over his head and secured it tightly against his torso using the Velcro straps.

Taking the lead, Darius grabbed the bulky cell door key from where it hung by the door to the converted basement, then descended the stairs, with his two teammates on his six.

As usual, as soon as they heard someone approaching and the lights went on, many of the women retreated to the back of their cells, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

Darius now understood why all too well. He’d had no idea Secada had been raping some of the women, but he’d make sure the man suffered for it if it was the last thing he ever did.

While Romeo manned the door to the stairs, Darius stopped in front of the first cell that held two young women.

When he inserted the key into the lock, they both whimpered, their eyes widening in fear.

Knowing there wasn’t much he could say that would reassure them he was one of the good guys, Darius glanced at Costello.

“They’ll be more comfortable with you talking to them. ”

She nodded then addressed the women. “We’re from the United States, and we’re getting you out of here, but you have to stay quiet and do what we say, okay?”

As Darius worked quickly to open the other cells, he could tell the women recognized him as one of the men who’d held them captive.

They weren’t about to trust him as far as they could throw him, but he had to, at least, try to put their minds at ease.

“I was undercover and was never going to let them sell you.”

When he reached the last cell, his hand froze an inch away from sliding the key in the lock. “Where’s Princess Tahira?”

The younger woman, Nala, burst into tears, her body trembling forcibly.

Her cousin, Lahana, slowly got to her feet.

Her face, arms, torso, and legs were covered in bruises, some deeper than others.

Darius fought to keep the rage those bruises inspired off his face, as she answered him.

“That bastard took her. He’s going to rape her, just like he did to me and some of the others. ”

Her voice was stronger than he’d expected. Whereas some of the women were timid and fearful, the others seemed to find their strength in the presence of their rescuers.

“Where?” Darius asked, although if he had to guess, the son of a bitch had taken Tahira to his suite.

Lahana shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere upstairs.”

A young blonde who’d stepped out of her now open cell, touched his arm, getting his attention. “He drugs them before he assaults them. You have to save her.”

That was a given. “How long ago did he take her?”

Sorrow filled her pretty blue eyes. “Long enough.”

“Shit.” He spoke into his watch. “Boss-man?”

“Go,” Ian replied.

“Her Highness is upstairs, probably on the second floor.” He left out the fact she was most likely in Secada’s suite.

“I’m going after her.” Ignoring the other man’s string of curses, Darius turned to Costello, who had finished coaxing the rest of the women from their cells.

“Get them out of here; I’ll get Tahira.”

“I’ll go with you,” the female sniper said with fire in her eyes.

Darius had never seen her so pissed and almost said yes just to see her unleash a shit-ton of fury on Secada’s ass.

Instead, he shook his head and started for the stairs.

“No. Romeo can’t take care of all of them by himself; especially with the chance of a crossfire.

Get them out of here. I’ll get Tahira and head for the exfil. ”

Knowing he was right, Costello immediately but reluctantly agreed. “Fine, but if you run into trouble, you better holler.”

“Will do.”

Leaving his teammates to do what they did best, Darius took the stairs two at a time.

When he reached the first floor, he pulled his 9mm handgun from its holster on his hip.

While the AK-47 on his back had more firepower, he had more control and accuracy with the pistol.

Sweeping it back and forth in front of him, looking for targets, he quickly made his way to the second floor, then paused to listen for any movement beyond the doorway.

To give himself a better range of motion, he quickly removed the heavy jacket he’d been wearing for guard duty and left it at the top of the stairs.

It would be restrictive in a fight. The moment he stepped into the hall, there was a clap of thunder, followed by the reports of assault rifles and cursing coming through his comms unit.

If he hadn’t had the unit in his ear, he wouldn’t have heard the shots over the loud storm, but it was clear all hell had broken loose. Shit.

Taking a left, he stealthily approached Secada’s suite, while listening for anyone else moving about the house.

It was highly unlikely any of the guards would make their way into the house with all the gunfire outside, but the mission had already gone FUBAR.

And Darius had a feeling it was about to get worse, if that was at all possible.

With his weapon up and ready to fire, he gently tried the doorknob.

No sense in kicking it in if it was already unlocked.

The knob turned with his hand. Taking a steadying breath, Darius shoved the door open, stepped inside, and scanned the room, the muzzle of his gun always aimed in the same direction as his gaze.

His heart and stomach sank. Tahira was unconscious and naked on the big bed, her legs splayed open, a nasty bruise on her face, and her hair in disarray.

Semen and blood painted the insides of her thighs and the sheet between them. He was too late.

But she was alone.

Movement to his left had Darius pivoting but not fast enough.

Wearing only pants, Secada dove out the open bathroom doorway and tackled him.

The two men tumbled to the floor, with Darius landing on his back with the AK-47 between him and the floor.

His breath was knocked out of him as his handgun went flying across the room.

Secada smashed his fist into Darius’s face.

He would feel the pain later, but Darius was running on adrenaline and rage.

He blocked the next punch before it made contact.

Grabbing the back of Secada’s skull, Darius pulled him closer and head-butted him.

Taking advantage of the stars the other man had to be seeing, Darius flipped him over and reversed their positions, but Secada recovered fast. They struggled, each trying to get the upper hand.

Darius was surprised at the other man’s strength, but the cartel lieutenant was no match for the retired Navy SEAL.

Two jabs to the bastard’s nose broke it, then sent the shards up into his brain.

Panting, Darius relaxed back on his heels, Secada’s dead eyes staring up at him. “I hope you went straight to hell, asshole.”

He stood and didn’t give the other man a second thought as he rushed over to the bed.

Tahira was still unconscious—probably from whatever drug Secada had given her, since the bruise on her face didn’t seem bad enough to have knocked her out.

Grabbing a blanket from where it’d been tossed to the side, Darius gently wrapped her abused body up in it, then picked her up in his arms. He had to get her out of there quickly but decided to take a moment to afford her some decency and warmth.

Swiftly carrying her out into the hallway, he headed for Diaz’s master bedroom, snatching his own jacket from the top of the backstairs.

The drug czar’s widow was about Tahira’s size and was about to donate some clothes.

He paused inside the suite, looking for a place to put her down—definitely not on the bed with the dead drug lord.

There was a sitting area in front of an unlit gas fireplace across the room, and Darius laid the unconscious woman down on a chaise lounge.

He tenderly brushed a few strands of hair from her face, rage filling him when he got a better look at the swollen bruise on her cheek.

Three small, oval discolorations along her right jaw and one on her left were just the right size to be made by fingertips, and Darius was tempted to go back to Secada’s room and cut the fucker’s dick off and shove it down his throat.

Two reasons prevented him from doing so: Secada wouldn’t feel a thing, and Darius was in a hurry.

He didn’t even have time to clean Tahira up, though he was afraid if he did, she’d be mortified when she realized he’d done so.

Would that be worse than needing to clean herself? He didn’t know.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there fast enough, Princess,” he murmured, guilt plaguing his gut.

Hesitant to leave her for even a moment, Darius forced himself to find some clothing for her.

Entering the suite’s walk-in closet, he selected a pair of designer, dark-green, velour sweatpants, a long-sleeved, black knit shirt, and a deep eggplant-colored, zip-up sweater.

None of it matched, but fashion wasn’t a concern right now.