Page 5

The wedding had gone from a celebration of life, and the union of a publicly-adored couple, to complete and utter chaos.

The explosion had occurred somewhere inside the building, sending hundreds of people running for the closest exits.

They were pouring out of every door and even some windows.

Frisco hadn’t seen anyone come out injured, yet, but several people had fallen under the crush of the crowd.

Women were crying and screaming; men were yelling and frantically trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Smoke began to filter out from the center of the roof as flames shot skyward.

Frisco and the others hiding in the jungle ran through the list of those inside.

One by one, the voices of Ghost, Fletch, Carter, Jordyn, and several other operatives inside the mansion came over the comms. They hadn’t been close enough to the blast zone to be seriously wounded, although there were some minor injuries.

But others were still unaccounted for. The backup teams had yet to hear the Deimos geek and his female bodyguard report in, but with the earsplitting pandemonium going on around them, there could be any number of reasons why.

There was no way of knowing if the explosion was related to the pending sale of the codes or something else altogether.

Either way, it’d been totally unexpected.

Unless the two main targets checked in soon, Sawyer said he was going to order his team to move in to recover them.

They couldn’t allow anything to happen to either of them—if they were still alive.

“Does anyone have eyes on Vixen and her boy?” the Trident team leader barked into his microphone for the third time in less than a minute, as he, Hollywood, and Frisco scanned the panicked crowd still emerging from the building.

People dressed in gowns and tuxedos were pushing others out of the way, ignoring those who fell.

Victims were being trampled which could be just as deadly as another bomb going off.

Sawyer received a round of “negatives” from several operatives before someone Frisco didn’t know responded, “Boss-man, we’ve got to get those people out of there. The fire’s spreading fast.”

There had to be victims still inside, injured or stunned from the initial explosion, who couldn’t escape on their own, and from the look of things, everyone else was trying to save their own hides.

Since Trident Security was in the private sector, and the US government could deny knowing why they were there, them exposing themselves was the better option.

The Delta Team, however, was comprised of active-duty Army personnel, and it would be a lot harder to explain why they were on foreign soil, covertly surrounding the compound with heavy-duty firearms. Those inside, though, could still maintain their covers and help the injured.

It only took a split second for Sawyer to answer his teammate.

“Agreed, Boomer. Ghost, can your team cover our sixes and watch for the principals? We’ll try to get as many of them out, but this is probably a diversion.

I don’t want my team caught with their pants down. ”

“Affirmative,” Delta’s team leader responded, his raspy voice a result of the smoke.

“Jungle Cats, maintain ... cough ... positions and make sure the frogs are ... cough ... covered. Monkey Suits, if you can hear me, help evacuate the injured. Everyone keep your eyes open for the missing principals. Snow White and Prince Charming are on their way out with Sleepy. Grumpy, they’re all yours.

” The senator and his wife had been briefed that if there was an emergency they were to go straight to their limousine with the closest Delta operative, where another one would be waiting to drive them to safety.

“Alpha & Omega, move in. Keep your faces covered. Jackass and Sweetheart, find the damn principals and get them out of there.” Sawyer pulled on the balaclava he’d yanked out of one of the many pockets in his camo pants.

While his teams had applied face paint, just as Frisco, Hollywood, and the other Deltas in the jungle had, they didn’t want to be caught on camera where facial recognition software could possibly help identify them.

Many of the uninjured, but stunned, wedding guests milling about the large lawn were already recording the turmoil on their cell phones.

It was a fair bet the videos would be on YouTube within minutes.

As Sawyer stood and tucked his weapon in its holster on his right hip, a flash of gold caught Frisco’s attention.

There she was, the woman from the picture, materializing from the crowd with her “date,” urging him to run straight toward where Frisco and the others were still hidden amidst the foliage.

They were both covered in dirt, soot, and blood, and the brunette was barefoot and limping, although it didn’t look like it was slowing her down much.

Frisco was about to announce he had eyes on the principals, when a loud crack rang out above all the other noise—to the trained ear it was the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired.

He watched in horror as the woman’s back bowed from the impact, and she fell forward, her face contorting in pain.

“Shit!” Frisco was on his feet and running before she’d completely fallen onto the grass beneath her, with Hollywood and Sawyer on his heels, the latter shouting out orders to the combined team members.

The redheaded kid realized the woman protecting him was down, and he skidded to a halt, his feet coming out from under him.

Landing on his ass, he twisted around and began to crawl back to her.

Another gun report, this one distinctly from a long-range rifle, echoed from somewhere behind and to the right of Frisco, followed by a voice coming over the comms. “Alpha Four, threat from library window eliminated.” Whatever his name was, he had to be a sniper on one of Sawyer’s teams.

Some of the guests realized shots were being fired and that started everyone freaking out and ducking or diving to the ground to make themselves less of a target.

Crying and sobs became screams of alarm again.

No one knew where to run, so they were slamming into and tripping over each other in their fright.

Frisco dodged around several people running for the cover the trees behind him could provide.

As he neared the downed couple, he swung his Colt-M4 around to his back by its strap so it was out of the way.

Sliding like a baseball player trying to beat a tag at home plate, he stretched out next to the injured woman, confident the two other men had his six.

They stood over them, their weapons at the ready, scanning for more threats, as he got to his knees.

The female operative’s wide-eyed charge had been about to roll her over, but Frisco stopped him.

“Wait!” He eyed the bullet hole in the back of her dress, in the region of her midline, lumbar spine.

Shit, that’s not good! “Come over to my side and grab her legs. We’ll roll her as one unit. ”

While the shaken geek obeyed the order, crawling over to kneel next to the woman’s hips and thighs, Frisco reached across her back and grasped her opposite shoulder with one hand and her waist with the other.

After making sure the other man was ready, he said, “On the count of three. One ... two ... three.”

As they gently rolled her over, another explosion shook the ground.

Screams of terror followed as the crowd started running again, this time toward the parking lot and their vehicles, which most couldn’t access due to the valets having their keys.

But several limousines were already barreling toward the exit and the roadway beyond.

Brisk intel was reported over the comm units followed by more gunfire.

Apparently, whatever was happening was on the far side of the compound, and Frisco prayed it stayed there as he stared into the wounded woman’s face.

She grabbed his arm, her pretty, brown eyes and pale face were filled with pain and ... resignation? Her voice was raspy and weak. “L-Leave me.”

“Not on your life, darling. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

She shook her head. “No. C-Can’t move my legs. Leave m-me.”

Shock and anger rose within him as what she was telling him sank in. She was paralyzed and wanted him to leave her to die—to be killed by whomever was behind the attack, whether swiftly or following hours of torture. Like fucking hell!

As the gunfire grew louder, Sawyer snapped into his microphone, “Babs! Get the fuck in here! West lawn—critical extraction!”

A female voice answered over the sounds of a chopper’s rotor blade, “Coming in hard and fast, Boss-man.”

It was nice to know someone had brought the big toys. Behind his teammate, Hollywood fired his weapon. “Get her up, Frisco! Tangos are moving in. We gotta get out of here fast!”

“I can’t! She can’t move her legs!”

“Pick her up! The damage is already done!” To anyone else, his teammate’s words would probably sound harsh and callous.

But Frisco had heard the regret in them along with the unspoken message that if they didn’t get her out of there fast, things would get a lot worse—for all of them.

He didn’t have a choice. There was no way he was leaving her to die—no way any of them would.