Page 7

A few hours later, Callum leaned over the table, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. The hum of the jet engines was steady and low, a white noise filling the luxurious plane cabin around them.

Despite the fact that he’d been up all night and he probably wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon, a faint thrill coursed through him—one he hadn’t felt in years. Not that he was going to admit that out loud.

They were only a couple hours from touchdown in Ia?i, a Romanian city just west of the Moldovan border. From there, they’d be driving to the meetup spot.

Dustin had provided intel on where and when the exchange was scheduled to occur. The cash—half a million US dollars in crisp, new $100 bills—was stacked in a large backpack, ready to save a woman’s life. They would be meeting in front of an abandoned warehouse in a small city in northern Moldova.

The good thing about professional kidnappers was that the money was the bottom line for them. It wasn’t personal. They’d seen an opportunity and moved on it. Once they were paid, it wasn’t in their best interest to harm their victims further.

That didn’t mean Callum was going to trust everything to go perfectly, thus Bear’s and Theo’s planned positioning. He looked over at the two men. “Let’s go over the details again.”

They both nodded.

“We’ll arrive at the designated exchange point here.” Callum highlighted a section of the map on his computer screen, and it updated to theirs as well. He wished he had this sort of technology with his deputies in Oak Creek, not that they had a lot of kidnapping and ransom situations at home.

“I’ll be the front man and carry the cash along this road.” He traced a line down a dirt path near the outskirts of the town with his fingers.

“Bear, you’ll sit with some bigger guns in a vehicle up the road behind me, ready as either a QRF to hostilities or for a successful extraction once we have Marissa.”

He glanced up to see if the younger man understood his acronym—QRF: quick reaction force. There was no confusion on his face at all. Good sign.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Bear continued studying the map in front of him, zooming in on particulars.

“Theo, I want you over here.” Callum’s finger highlighted a dense patch of trees on an elevated position nearby. “Be ready to provide precision rifle support in the event we need some surgical hole-punching.”

A grin lit Theo’s face. “With pleasure.”

These two were as excited about this mission as Callum was. Again, not the most exhilarating assignment in the world, but it still felt good to be out here in the international mix again.

“Okay, then let’s pray this goes as smoothly as—” Callum was cut off by his phone ringing. He looked at the ID.

Lincoln Bollinger, just the man he wanted to hear from.

He was another Oak Creek resident—Bear’s cousin, in fact. Had been born and raised there. But Lincoln wasn’t like anyone else in Oak Creek.

Hell, Lincoln wasn’t like anyone else on the planet.

But right now, Callum needed him. Prodigious savant was the term thrown around about Lincoln when it came to his abilities with computers. The man was an expert at finding information through the web—the one normal people used, and other versions of the web Callum didn’t want to know specifics about since he was an officer of the law.

Callum answered the video call. “Hey, Linc. What you got?”

As usual when Lincoln was in the middle of something, he offered no greeting. “I was looking into the kidnappers. It wasn’t difficult to find info. The Kozak brothers—Jakob and Nikola—are running the show. They’re bad news, but not exactly criminal masterminds. Mostly thugs with guns and a reputation for violence. An aggressive arm of a larger enterprise.”

Surveillance shots of two grim-faced men showed up on their screens. “Good-looking one is Jakob. He has, thus far, run most of the kidnapping operations. The almost bald, small-eyed other guy is Jakob’s younger brother, Nikola. Definitely not Einstein.”

“What else do we know about them?” Callum asked.

“They’re suspected in some other kidnappings throughout Europe over the past few years,” Lincoln continued. “Similar snatch and grabs, generally people in their early twenties who aren’t paying attention or think themselves invincible—posting their plans and locations on social media.”

Callum gritted his teeth. It was a wonder anyone under the age of thirty was alive, given how they publicly shared so much about their lives.

“Op Sec doesn’t cross most people’s minds, sadly.” Theo shook his head.

“Operational security definitely didn’t cross Marissa Getty’s mind.” Lincoln typed something, and multiple pictures of the woman, plus all her social media feeds, came up.

Jesus . Marissa had posted everywhere about nearly every damn aspect of her life. Everything from where and what she was eating, to a detailed agenda about every night’s whereabouts.

So foolish.

Callum studied the images. Marissa was attractive—long black hair, brown eyes, delicate features. But there was a hardness to her, an air of entitledness, that did absolutely nothing for him.

Although, that still didn’t mean she deserved to die at the hands of brutish kidnappers.

“The most concerning thing about the Kozaks is that they don’t have the best track record for returning hostages alive.”

“What sort of track record are we talking about, cuz?” Bear asked.

“Less than fifty percent of the kidnappings they were known to have a hand in have had the victims returned alive. And I’m sure there are more lethal cases we don’t know about yet that they were involved with.”

Shit . And Callum was willing to bet there had been loss of life among the teams sent to handle the trade-offs with the Kozak brothers too. All it would take was for the Kozaks to get a little greedy—decide to keep the hostage and the money—and things would go to shit fast.

No wonder Dustin hadn’t wanted to send in his own men.

“Those are shit odds for both Marissa and us, Linc. What can we do to improve them?”

“At the drop? I’m not sure there’s anything we can do. They hold most of the advantages there. But I was thinking perhaps you can circumvent the drop entirely.”

Callum’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“I’m patching through some intel right now.”

Callum tapped the touch pad, pulling up the images Lincoln had sent. “We’ve got it.” Both Bear and Theo nodded, looking down at their own screens.

Satellite photos and a detailed map of some sort of compound popped up. The area wasn’t much to look at, mostly barns, sheds, and a couple dilapidated houses.

“What are we looking at here, Linc?” Callum asked.

“I have confirmation that Marissa Getty is being held in a cellar under one of these farmhouses,” Lincoln was saying, his fingers dancing across his keyboard.

Confirmation of where the victim was. That changed everything.

“Wait.” Theo looked up from his screen. “Are we talking about turning this mission from handoff to rescue?”

“Won’t lie,” Bear muttered. “Sounds like that might be the safer of the two options, given what we’ve found out.”

They needed more info before they even started thinking about this.

“Let’s say we land and do a hot extract,” Callum said to Lincoln. “What exactly would we be facing on the ground?”

“It’s hard to say exactly, but the Kozaks only have a roughly squad-sized element in the immediate vicinity around the main house, with access to reserves from the surrounding area. They definitely are not expecting anyone to go after them right now, but it still doesn’t mean that it would be easy.”

Squad plus reserves. That would make it about twenty of the Kozaks’ men versus the three of them.

Bear scrubbed a hand down his face. “What sort of movement around the compound?”

Lincoln adjusted his headset. “Half a squad plus or minus rotating every six hours, with one patrolling the perimeter and another near the house. Between shifts, they’re inside—probably drinking or playing cards. Not exactly disciplined.”

Undisciplined was both good and bad… They weren’t as highly trained, so easier to take out. But they also could be unpredictable because of that very lack of training.

Theo spoke, his voice steady. “What about entry points? Escape routes?”

Lincoln switched the screen to a map of the farmhouse. “The tree line on the east side is your best approach. It gets you within fifty yards of the back door. That’s the least reinforced entry, and it’s closer to the cellars.”

Two blocks on the digital maps lit up. “Marissa should be in one of those cellars. It’s definitely the most logical and secure place to keep her. There’re also a lot of underground passageways on the property left over from World War II hideouts. The main tunnel runs nearly a quarter mile from the house heading south. There are also a bunch of smaller branch-off tunnels, but there’s no data about those.”

Callum nodded. “We could try to use the tunnels as far as we can. Keep the vehicle parked near the southern exit.”

“Definitely doable,” Bear added.

Before this went a second further, Callum had to clarify some things. He turned to Theo and Bear. “Look, I get that this may be our best chance of actually getting Marissa Getty alive. But if we go in, this is much more dangerous than the original parameters of our mission. We’ll be outmanned and out-armed.”

“What about getting some backup from Dustin?” Theo asked.

Callum shook his head. “No can do. Dustin said he may have a mole within his company, so if we do this, it’s without backup or permission.”

“I say we do it.” Bear leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “We came here to save an innocent life. Danger be damned.”

Theo nodded.

Callum studied them. These were good guys. Good men . They were skilled, smart, and courageous.

But still young. Both in their early thirties, they had an unshakable sense of invincibility.

Callum couldn’t say the same for himself. Forty-four wasn’t old, not really—but it wasn’t young either. He was aware that at his age, he couldn’t afford to burn out early or take unnecessary risks. He had to be sharp, deliberate.

It wasn’t fear; it was the awareness of time, the way it had shaped him and slowed him just enough to remind him of his limits.

And he was very aware that death could steal anyone at any time. Seven years ago, cancer had taken Amelia fast and brutally, a fight neither of them could win.

She would have supported this rescue mission. He could almost hear her teasing him about being a thrill-seeker but reminding him, in her calm and steady way, that if he could help save someone, he had to try.

“Callum? What are you thinking?” Lincoln’s voice snapped him back.

“Let’s do it. Mission parameters are officially changed as of right now. We get in, secure the hostage, and get out clean.”

Lincoln nodded. “I’ve uploaded everything I’ve got to your system—guard habits, Kozak profiles, even blueprints of the property. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we’ve got. You’ll be wheels down in less than two hours. Make the most of it.”

“We will,” Callum said.

“Okay, well…don’t die, I guess. And, uh, remember to check in once you’ve got her.” Lincoln’s smile was awkward now that his words had turned to personal stuff.

Bear grinned, shaking his head. “Solid pep talk, cuz. Have you considered moonlighting as a motivational speaker?”

“No, I haven’t. Interpersonal communication and motivational speaking of any kind are not my forte.” Every syllable was completely serious. Despite a genius IQ, conversational nuances were almost always lost on Lincoln.

Everyone on the plane grinned but let Lincoln’s statement go. Callum nodded at the screen. “Thanks for the intel, Lincoln. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

“And when we don’t die,” Bear continued.

The screen went dark as the call ended, leaving the three men in the muted hum of the jet’s cabin. As the plane soared through the night, the men bent over their screens again, reviewing the intel, refining their strategy, and preparing for the storm waiting for them on the ground.