Read the book: «Trap, Secure»

Chapter Two

Gage Booker rappelled down the high wall that surrounded the compound deep in the jungle of Colombia. Ahead of him, members of the Army Special Forces team hit the ground and fanned out onto the property. They’d already taken out the guards stationed at the outer wall, but the international arms dealer, Nico Zendaris, would have additional security guarding the lush grounds and ostentatious mansion.

Gage’s boots met the ground, sinking into the verdant growth that extended to the manicured lawn ringing the house. Before making his way through the underbrush toward the house in the wake of his support team, Gage stopped and sniffed the air. Jet fuel. In the middle of the jungle? His pulse quickened, and he crouched, peering through the bushes at the white mansion gleaming across the rolling lawn. His muscles tensed. His jaw ached.

Lights dotted the windows here and there, but no lights illuminated the outside of the house. A place like this would have security floodlights, sensors... The special team of Green Berets had to be circling the house by now. Where was the gunfire?

It had been too much to hope for that Zendaris would be on this property at the time of their raid, but Prospero had heard murmurings that he might be here. Although Gage would’ve liked a crack at Zendaris, especially after the hell he’d put his Prospero team members through, this particular mission didn’t depend on Zendaris’s presence.

It was enough that they’d finally located one of the elusive arms dealer’s residences. They didn’t even have a picture of him, at least not one without him in a disguise. Nobody knew what the real Nico Zendaris looked like. If Gage could gather photos from the house, they’d be one step closer to identifying him.

He hoped to gather more than just photos. He planned to search and infiltrate Zendaris’s computers, emails, safes, bank accounts. Their source had indicated Zendaris spent a lot of time at this residence. Surely he kept personal effects here. Even a phantom had to put down roots somewhere.

A shout rose from the lawn. Adrenaline pumped through Gage’s veins. He clutched his M4 carbine and crashed through the bushes.

Gripping his weapon in front of him, Gage charged onto the grass, its soggy blades squelching beneath his boots. The Green Berets had secured the perimeter of the house. Shadows moved across the windows, but the silence prevailed.

Captain Denny, the man in charge of the mission, strode from a set of double doors that opened onto a patio at the edge of the yard. “Booker?”

Gage lowered his weapon and puffed out a breath. The shout he’d heard before had been an all-clear signal.

He called back to the captain. “Over here.”

Captain Denny swore a blue streak as he marched across the patio. They met at the edge of the lawn, and Denny barked, “Put some light on this situation!”

From somewhere in the darkness, two powerful flashlights crossed beams, lighting up the patio. The light gleamed on the black stripes beneath the captain’s eyes, lighting his eyes on fire.

“They beat us to the punch, Booker. Except for those few pushovers on the outer wall, the place is deserted.”

Denny’s words landed with a sickening thud against Gage’s temples. They’d been double-crossed. He clenched his jaw against a flickering muscle. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” The captain jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Computers yanked out of walls, drawers dumped, closets ransacked and wall safes emptied.”

Gage swore and kicked at a lawn chair on the patio. It teetered on one leg for a second and then fell over. “Personal items?”

“Not much. Looks like this slimy SOB has eluded you again.”

Gage slung his weapon across his back. “I’m going in.”

The captain stepped aside and began shouting orders to his men. Not that he had many orders left to give. The Green Berets had successfully completed their mission—gain access to and secure the grounds and house. They’d done that.

It was Gage’s mission that had failed.

He entered the house through the double doors, his boots scuffing on the ceramic floor tiles. A sweeping staircase curved to the second floor and a tinkling chandelier hung from the cathedral ceiling. Paintings adorned the walls, objets d’art lined the shelves.

The weapons business must be good.

Trailing his hand along the built-in shelves, Gage scanned the items—no personal photos. He stepped over shards of glass on the floor—all that was left of the doors belonging to a mahogany case that had been cleared of most of its contents. Had pictures of Zendaris sans disguises once graced this cabinet?

He took a right turn into a cavernous dining room. The dining table reflected the image of a candelabrum centered on its gleaming surface. A vase of flowers nearby, the blooms fresh and buoyant, perfumed the air. Gage crossed the room and pushed through swinging doors to a kitchen, outfitted with enough accoutrements to please the most discerning chef. A kitchen table, tucked in a nook, overlooked the sprawling backyard.

The smell of grilled meat and garlic lingered in the air, and a half-empty wine bottle rested on the countertop. Someone had eaten a hearty meal tonight before abandoning ship.

He yanked open the Sub-Zero refrigerator—its shelves were stocked with enough food to feed a small army. Zendaris had probably employed a small army at this opulent abode.

Cursing, Gage slammed the door, rattling the contents of the fridge. By the look of things, Zendaris himself could’ve been in residence only hours before the raid.

He’d have to question the locals, but he knew he would hit a dead end there. The local inhabitants generally knew to keep their mouths shut when dealing with powerful neighbors like Zendaris. The man probably had a few of them in his employ—his eyes and ears in his absence.

And Zendaris’s absence from this location would be permanent now that it had been compromised.

Tomlinson, one of the Green Berets still occupying the house, called to him from the stairs. “Booker, you down there?”

Gage hit one of the swinging doors with the heel of his hand. “In the kitchen.”

“You need to see what’s on the second floor.”

Gage’s heart jumped. Had Zendaris left something behind? He sped through the dining room and took the stairs two at a time, his heavy boots pounding against the tiles, creating an echo in the empty house.

Tomlinson stood by a doorway and beckoned to him. Gage stumbled into the room and almost tripped over a low table scattered with picture books. “Son of a...”

Gage circled the room, the bright, cheery colors and patterned wallpaper of cartoon characters making him dizzy. “Zendaris had kids, and they stayed here, lived here.”

A sour lump rose from his gut. At least the kids hadn’t been in the line of fire. If the Green Berets had met resistance entering the house, they would’ve shot first and asked questions later.

No matter what their father had done, kids were innocents. He knew that better than anyone. He and his sister couldn’t be held accountable for the stunts their father the politician had pulled over the years.

Tomlinson gestured to the gaping French doors leading to a dark balcony. “The only doors in the house left open.”

“Maybe Zendaris spirited the kids away through the window.”

“Maybe he had to grab something from that balcony.”

On his way to the French doors, Gage trod on a book. He bent over to pick it up. He ran his index finger along the well-worn, gold-leaf cover. “Fairy tales. Yeah, those kids aren’t going to be living any fairy-tale life with that maniac.”

He tossed the book onto a deep-cushioned chair and spotted a gauzy pink scarf hanging over the back of it. He plucked up the scarf with two fingers. The gold threads woven into the material caught the light, and the scarf shimmered in his hands. Some instinct drove him to raise the scarf to his face. An exotic, musky scent tickled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply.

Definitely not a perfume for a young girl. Maybe Zendaris had a twentysomething-year-old daughter. Gage didn’t even know if Zendaris was old enough to have a daughter in her twenties. He crumpled the scarf in his fist and shoved it into the pocket of his fatigues.

A radio crackled and Tomlinson jumped to attention. Captain Denny’s voice boomed into the room. “Out of the house, Tomlinson. Now. We’re meeting at the front of the house.”

“Yes, sir!” He backed up to the door leading to the hallway. “I’ll leave it to you, Booker.”

“Thanks, Tomlinson. Good job tonight.”

Gage clumped onto the dark balcony. The border around the balcony was low enough to sit on—not the safest setup for kids. But then having an arms-dealing father wasn’t the safest setup for kids, either.

In an attempt to add a measure of safety to the low wall, someone had tacked up a wooden border.

Gage’s nostrils flared. A portion of the border had broken away. He crept toward the edge of the balcony and fingered one of the pieces of wood. This was a recent break.

He leaned over the balcony and his heart slammed against his rib cage. A figure, crumpled on the ground, was inching toward the grass from the flagstones.

“You there—halt!”

The blackness of the night obscured his vision, and he strained to make out whether the person had a weapon. “Stop!”

The figure continued to crawl forward, and Gage patted his pockets for a flashlight. He’d left it out on the patio and had parked his radio in the kitchen. He scanned the yard, but the Green Berets had congregated in the front of the house.

He swung his weapon in front of his body. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Still the form eased forward like a snake on its belly.

Gage blew out a breath. At the rate the guy was moving, he’d never make it to the wall before Gage got down there. And once at the wall, he wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.

Unless he had a weapon.

Hoisting his own gun, Gage scrambled back through the room and jogged down the staircase. Captain Denny’s voice bellowed from the front of the house. The mysterious, crawling figure would never be able to circle to the front of the house, but the crawling could be an act.

Gage made a quick detour to the kitchen where he swept his radio from the counter. He strode across the hallway, crunching through the broken glass.

He burst through the doors leading to the back patio and ran onto the lawn, veering toward the left where he’d seen the figure from the balcony. He squinted into the gloom. The clouds had moved over the small slice of moon again, throwing this side of the compound into total darkness. The other side of the house boasted all the light and activity.

The humidity sucked the air from his lungs. He pulled in another breath and wiped his sleeve across his sweating brow, his gaze crisscrossing the lawn in front of the balcony with the broken railing.

A moan filtered through the air, and the hair on the back of Gage’s neck stood at attention. His feet followed the sound, closer to the flagstones than he’d expected. The guy must’ve stopped crawling.

Gage slogged through the damp grass and froze. Seems the man had found the strength to stand, after all. A white oval lifted and dark pools peered at him.

He aimed his gun at the person’s head. “Hold it. Do you have any weapons?”

The small-statured man extended his arm toward Gage, and Gage’s finger tightened on the trigger of his carbine. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I’ve got a weapon pointed at you.”

The figure took a few jerky steps, dropping his arm to his side.

Gage pushed the button on the radio. “Captain Denny, I need light at the back of the house. There’s someone out here.”

Denny answered. “Ten-four.”

Motioning toward the man with his weapon, Gage said, “I have reinforcements. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees.”

The man wavered and his arms dangled at his sides. Seconds later, several soldiers charged around the corner from the front of the house, coming up behind Gage. They drew up beside him and aimed their powerful spotlights at the figure swaying on the lawn.

Gage’s jaw dropped as the beams of light illuminated a...woman.

The woman blinked. She raised an arm to her face, resting the back of her wrist on her forehead, covering her eyes.

The soldier on one side of Gage cursed, and the soldier on the other side muttered unnecessarily, “It’s a chick.”

Gage stole forward, leading with his M4. “Don’t reach for any weapons, or I’ll shoot.”

Hell, for all he knew, the woman could be a trained assassin. If she lived in this compound, her loyalty lay with Zendaris. He could even be face-to-face with Zendaris’s mistress. Their intelligence had indicated Zendaris kept multiple lovers.

His nerve endings buzzed. If they could capture one of Zendaris’s girlfriends and grill her, there’s no telling how much information she could give them.

His step lightened as he drew closer and verified the woman didn’t have anything in her hands and no indication of a weapon—at least none that he could see. Her slim, black slacks hugged her hips and legs and her dark-colored blouse stirred in the gentle breeze. How could he have ever thought she was a man?

“Put your hands in the air where I can see them.” He moved within steps of her, so close he could smell the perfume he’d noticed on the scarf—exotic, hypnotic.