Page 63 of Wild Card (Men of Action #4)

TALON

“You got it?”

One, two, three, four…

“Do you fucking have it?” My patience fails.

“We have it,” Rand confirms. “Systems are down for ninety seconds.”

“Keep alert, Marines. Watch your six and let’s get our fucking guys.” Blade flicks his fingers for me to lead since I’m technically senior on this mission.

The night vision goggles allow us to approach the house silently, but even without them, I have memorized every inch of this property.

It’s been a week since the guys arrived, and it’s a fucking miracle none of us have snapped. Waiting on our asses isn’t our specialty.

As suspected, Robbie, Finn, and James discovered the breadcrumbs Max left indicating a leak in his team.

As so, our rescue mission turned into an all-out diplomatic fucking nightmare. We were commanded to hold back and let the technical teams uncover the depth of Ricardo’s network.

Robbie worked with a special group inside the military to infiltrate every piece of communication on the system Max’s team is using.

What we didn’t expect was the guy I snatched from the club that night wasn’t a loyal henchman.

Eli Gage.

A Goddamn, fucking US Special Agent working undercover.

He’s part of an anti-terrorism unit that’s been working the area for two years. He’d successfully penetrated his way into Ricardo’s crew.

Rand ran his background and it was clean… squeaky clean. The pornographic images and sites on his phone were fake ploys that led a trail back to Eli’s contact in the government.

Within five minutes, we knew we were fucking screwed.

Another part of the diplomatic fucking nightmare.

Without a choice, we added a member to our team. One that none of us trusted, but we had no choice.

Turns out Ricardo is a middleman, but still a valuable asset. He’s got investors operating under guises whose money is being siphoned to terrorist recruitment groups around the area.

And Max knew it.

He fucking masterminded this whole thing.

Robbie was angry, but James Hayes was enraged. He’s never liked surprises and really doesn’t like playing nice with agencies he hasn’t agreed to.

There’s now a slew of ranks claiming to be in charge.

It’s been a pissing contest that James won.

This morning, our guys uncovered the proof that our traitor had tipped off Ricardo’s team they were under surveillance and Marines were in the city. It was this fuckwad who got our men caught.

Now we have the collaborator red-handed and enough information about the network to lead to the top.

It’s time to rescue our men.

We approach the jail, entering through the door closest to the stairwell. Plans submitted for the renovation and Eli’s knowledge give us an idea of the house specs, but we know to be prepared for the unknown.

Ricardo knows he’s being watched. He kidnapped three US Marines, and one of his crew went missing last week.

He increased his security.

There are four guys in the house tonight. Unfortunately, Ricardo is not one of them.

We slip into the dim house and spread out.

Loud voices filter from the front room which sounds like a party. Blade, Major, and Ace crouch at the entryway, Major flashing a few signals.

All four men are accounted for.

That’s all we need. Ford, Eli, and I readjust our vision goggles and creep down the staircase slowly, mindful of any traps.

When we reach the bottom, the stench hits me—blood, sweat, rotting food, human waste.

My gut tightens as my sight lands on three forms against a wall.

Eli confirmed the basement is monitored, so the only thing I can do is knock out a series of taps on the wall.

The faint reply comes seconds later.

Bad Shape…

Eli’s last visual had them healthy. They’d taken a few hits, but Ricardo wanted them presentable for bargaining power.

Something changed over this last week.

Using Morse Code, the taps give us an idea of what we’re facing.

Drugged…

“Threat eliminated,” Major announces in our ear coms.

Ford sends a message to Rand and Hugo to scramble the video feed on this room.

“You’re up.” His response is almost immediate and we’re on the move.

I get to Max first, Eli and Ford taking the other two.

Rage boils to the surface.

Dried blood stains his chest and abdomen from what resembles stab wounds. His eyes are swollen, cheeks torn, and lips spilt. His overgrown beard is caked with blood and dirt.

“Roberts, can you move?”

Max’s head lolls to the side, his pupils barely visible.

“‘Bout time you showed up.”

“Yeah, well, Fancypants over here got us into a pissing war with every agency in D.C.” I jerk my chin to Gage.

Max cracks a smile. “Fancypants, like that one. Glad you found Gage.”

Gage doesn’t stop his assessment of the man. “You know who I am?”

“Clocked you in a second.”

Gage grunts, “Doubtful.”

“Can you stand?” I catch the awkward angle of Max’s left leg.

“Get my guys out.”

“We’re getting everyone out. Tell me what I’m dealing with.”

“They’ve been pumping us with some kind of shit hoping we’d talk. Hayes and Black are in bad shape, unconscious.”

Ford’s gaze meets mine. Whatever it is in his system has him hallucinating he’s with Robbie and Finn.

“We gotta move, Meyer’s pulse is fading.” Ford’s fingers are at the man’s throat.

“Same,” Gage adds.

All three need carrying out. “Get a medevac helo ready,” I order into my com.

“On it,” Rand responds.

Boots pound on the stairs, the other guys surrounding us and taking in the scene. Ace crouches at Max’s side, hoisting him forward so we can get a lock under his arms and lift him.

“Jesus, Roberts, lay off the sweets,” Ace grumbles.

“Aww, Kingston, don’t be jealous. This is all muscle, baby,” Max slurs.

When we reach the top of the stairs, he clutches my shoulder. “Take me to them.”

“We need to get you to the van.”

“I need to see those fuckers myself.”

Ace tips his head and I nod, lifting my goggles to the light. We carry him to the living room where all four men sit upright in their chairs with single shots to the forehead.

“Do me a favor. Give that one in the blue another tap for good measure.”

“Can’t die twice,” Ace counters.

“Humor me. Fucker crushed my ankle.”

Ace pulls out his piece, aiming at the guy’s ankle and firing. Max gives out a wickedly sick laugh when fragments of bone fly.

Hugo is helping load Meyer and Pitts into the van, Ford shouting orders while Major grabs his medical bag.

Max rumbles when we get him inside, fresh blood seeping from his chest wounds.

Hugo slams us in, hopping in the passenger seat while Rand speeds away.

I’m not as skilled as Major, but I get started on hooking Max up to an IV for fluids.

Ford barks into the SAT phone, filling in Robbie on our status.

I scoot to the side, clipping the IV bag with the others and checking Max’s pulse.

“Meyers and Pitts,” he calls, his chest heaving at the effort.

Pitts stirs, groaning, “Yeah, boss.”

“Smartass.”

Max’s eyes glint in the dim light, locking with mine. “Nice job, Marine. Tell Black and Hayes they kicked ass.”

He’s back to hallucinating.

I begin to reply when his eyelids shutter and my insides seize.

His facial muscles go lax, his mouth parting.

The light of his pupils fades.

A rattling breath escapes his trembling lips.

Déjà vu slams into me, having seen this before. It’s not something anyone could ever forget.

His body is shutting down.

“Goddammit. Fucking crashing!” I get to my knees, ripping open his shirt and yelling for Ace.

“Roberts, you asshole, you’re not dying on me. I’ll reach into your chest and pump your heart myself!”

Max’s eyes close right as I start the compressions.

A cup of coffee appears in my line of sight and I decline.

“You did what you could.” Gage drops it in the trash and sits.

“Wasn’t enough.”

“He’s breathing.”

“He’s in a coma and on a goddamn machine keeping him alive.”

“He’ll wake up.”

I grind my teeth, tempering the anger simmering under the surface. If it would make a difference, I’d gladly knock the shit out of his Pollyanna positive outlook.

“We should have been there, gotten to them sooner.” A quick glance at Ford, Ace, and Major tells me they agree.

“Got the go-ahead and went in.”

His matter-of-fact smug tone sets me over the edge. In a nano-second, I have him pinned against the wall, nose to nose. “You ever been in the service, Gage? Ever had the blood of your men on your hands? Watched friends die?”

His eyes burn but he remains quiet.

“You served, you know time is of the essence. Diplomatic conversations at the local coffee clutch don’t play into missions.

We find our guys and get them. End of fucking story.

It’s my fault we have two guys in critical going through withdrawals and Max is on a ventilator.

Of all the guys I could have picked, it was you.

A goddamned fucking …” I trail off, knowing his identification is still classified.

“You think you picked me? You cocky son of a bitch, I saw you coming from a mile away. Who do you think tipped Ricardo off his sister was romancing an American boy on vacation?”

I tighten my forearm at this throat, rendering his words. “You wanted out.”

“Fuck yeah, tired of pussyfooting around with this shit. But unlike you, I’m not a renegade cowboy. There’s a bigger picture here. This wasn’t about three American Marines, it’s about millions of lives. Max Roberts knew what he was doing.”

“He’s right, Max knew.” A familiar voice cuts in the air.

My head swings to find Robbie, Finn, James, and a man in a lab coat with weary expressions, taking in the scene.

“Stand down, Simms,” Robbie commands.

“What the hell?”

Gage takes advantage of the distraction, shoving me to the side.

Rand, Hugo, and Blade get to their feet, resembling anxious schoolboys in the presence of James. If the situation wasn’t so extreme, their nervous shuffle would be comical.

“We have enough to deal with as it is. You think you can control yourself long enough for us to see our guys and get our doctor up to speed?” James cocks an eyebrow.

Feeling like a scolded child, I nod dejectedly.

The four of them head down the hall, and I collapse back into a chair, raking my hands through my hair.

Exhaustion seeps into my bones. I don’t remember the last time I slept. We’ve been in this hospital for what? Twelve hours?

Thoughts of Willow take over.

Major relayed what happened the morning in the kitchen with enough flare and dramatics, he had us all entertained. All except Ford.

Rand, Hugo, and Blade’s hysterics dried up quickly. Being described as goofballs, pretty boys, and amateurs didn’t sit well.

Ford finally cracked a smile.

But they were holding something back.

When I questioned her studies, they were dismissive.

When I mentioned Wyatt, they hadn’t seen him.

When I asked about Bex, Lucas, Rowan, Harley, Jewls s the kids, and the parents—they were short-lipped.

It fucking pissed me off, but I knew the drill.

Provide just enough information to keep my head in the game.

No distractions.

People’s lives were at stake, and diversions resulted in death.

Regardless, something was definitely going on.

It’s been too fucking long since I heard her voice.

As soon as James officially gives the word and seals this operation, someone better return my Goddamn phone.

Half an hour passes before Robbie and Finn stroll back in. I’m barely on my feet when Robbie yanks me into his hard body, pounding on my back.

“Heard what you said. Only a few times in my life have I felt that kind of fear. Fuck if I didn’t think you’d actually keep his heart pumping. You saved him.”

There’s an edge of raw emotion in his voice I know well.

He lets me go, only for Finn to repeat the same actions. “Fuck of a good job.”

“He’s ventilated,” I remind them, not feeling their optimism.

“Not for long. Dr. Snyder is the best there is. He’s been in contact with local staff and has full medical authorization.

He’s also familiar with the shit they were being pumped full of.

The detox will fucking suck, but they’ll survive.

They’re starting the process of waking Max up now.

We’ll know more in a few hours.” Robbie scans the room. “Nice work, all of you.”

Rand, Blade, and Hugo stand straighter, and I swear they’re preening under his praise.

“What about Ricardo?”

Robbie’s mouth morphs into a bone-chilling, calculated grin, his blue eyes gleaming. “John Ricardo Lewis was found dead a few hours ago. Identified only by his dental records. Electrical fire caught at his home, taking it to the ground.”

A collective chuckle sounds around the room.

One thing about working with Hayes Security, they don’t like loose ends.

“Bet you guys are ready for these.” Finn drops his bag on a chair and dishes out our personal cells. “You know the drill. No calls until on US soil. Get back to base and pack. Meet back here in two hours. Transport is waiting. Wheels up as soon as you’re ready.”

When I power up my phone, notifications load the screen.

I love you…

I miss you…

God, I’m scared, please come home to me…

With each message, my heart races.

“Before you go, we need to talk.”

My head snaps back to Robbie, his expression now unreadable.

“Is she okay?”

“Once the shock wore off, she pulled herself together. We had an unexpected development. She’s fine… But there’s something else.” His pause has my pulse racing for a different reason.

“What kind of fucking development?”

“Wynn got to her.”

“You promised you’d watch her.”

“We were watching. She went shopping. It was a coincidence; we tapped into the internal cameras and didn’t catch him until it was too late. With a few calls, found out Declan was in the vicinity. He couldn’t walk into Target without risk of causing a scene, so he sent in Tavers.”

My agitation turns to hilarity, thinking about Declan’s bodyguard. At six-four, two-hundred and sixty pounds of pure muscle, Tavers likely had Joseph Wynn ready to bolt.

“And what happened?”

“Willow handled it. Tavers ensured Jospeh left the store and went back. Willow hurt her ankle, claimed she tripped over her cart.”

“Why don’t I like where this is going?”

“Depends on where you’re at. I saw the ring, know that woman loves you, and pretty sure you feel the same.”

“What the fuck, Robbie?”

He smirks at my irritation. “Tavers hung back, making sure she was okay.”

He’s enjoying drawing this out. The room has gone silent, and I sense the guys at my back. “You got a point here?”

“Yeah.” He rocks back on his heels with a wide shit-eating grin. “According to Tavers, ‘Lo wiped out the shelves of every brand of pregnancy test available. Good chance you’re about to be a dad.”

He could have told me anything in the world and it wouldn’t have stunned me more.

…about to be a dad

The phrase replays in my mind, my pulse speeding, my vision blurring, and the room spinning.

I think I spot a few hands reaching out before my ass hits the floor.