Into the Lair

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“The last time we went into a compound like this, I lost a man,” Eli said grimly as he looked at the gathered men. “I don’t want that to happen this time.”

Jonah stood to the side, his arms crossed over his AK-47. He looked almost bored. Except for his eyes. They flickered alertly over the assembled group as if he were measuring each one.

Mad Dog and Tits flanked Ian and Braden, and Tits slapped at another bug, real or imagined, Ian wasn’t sure.

“Goddamn it,” Tits muttered. “The entire jungle is determined to have me for dinner.”

“It’s the fresh blood,” Mad Dog drawled. “If you’re not careful, they’ll suck you dry. They grow ’em big here in South America.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Tits said. But he pressed a hand to his wound as if to prevent any bugs from invading the bandage.

“You boys done?” Jonah asked dryly. “We’ve got a job to do here. I’d just as soon quit fucking around and get it done.”

Braden nodded his agreement. He was tense and edgy. Ian worried that he might be close to shifting, but neither of them wanted to risk taking a sedative and not being a hundred percent when they went in for Katie.

Her signal had led them deep into the Venezuelan jungle to a compound undetected by satellite. Mostly underground, what was above the terrain was hidden by heavy growth and lush foliage. Thank God for the tracking device or they would’ve never found her.

If Esteban had hurt her there would be no mercy. Obtaining a cure was no longer a priority, at least not for Ian and Braden. Ian knew that Falcon was still keenly interested in Esteban because of Damiano. All Ian cared about at this point was extracting Katie. Alive. Esteban could live or die.

Jonah looked toward Eli, a concession to the fact that he led this mission. Ian wasn’t in the mood for a pissing match or a contest to see whose dick was bigger. The merger wasn’t his idea. He didn’t give a shit who called the shots as long as Katie got out alive.

“Let’s go,” Braden growled.

“I’ll shift and find a ventilation system to get in. Give me a ten-minute head start so I can take down the security system,” Eli said.

Tits stepped forward with a glance sideways at Mad Dog. “Our recon points at four possible entrance and exit points. Could be more.”

“Katie’s signal was pinpointed in the heart of the compound,” Ian said. “We’re going to need those exits secured and the paths clear. I don’t want to rely on only one way out. I want a plan, and then I want plans B, C and fucking D. We can’t afford to fuck this up.”

Eli nodded. “If I fail to override the security, then those entrances will need to be blown. We lose some of the element of surprise which means you have to get in and move fast. Shoot first, sort bodies later. Esteban has proven what a complete and utter coward he is. He won’t stick around to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Okay, enough with the chitchat,” Braden said. “Let’s do this.”

Eli took quick stock of his gear and then dissolved into the thick, humid air. Jonah checked his watch and began the countdown.

“I want the secondary manning those exits as soon as we gain access,” Jonah said. “Two will remain outside to provide cover and to make sure no one crawls up our backsides.” He looked at Mad Dog and Tits. “You two set the place to blow. I want this to be an in-and-out job. Our objectives are Katie, information and Esteban. In that order.”

He pinned Ian and Braden with his hard stare. “Don’t make this personal. Get in, get your girl, get the hell out. You’ll take the central entrance and hone in on Katie’s location. The other half of the secondary will be moving ahead of you to clear a path. You’ll have back-up in front and behind you.”

He glanced down at his watch. “Let’s move. We have three minutes to go time. Take your positions and get ready to kick some ass.”

Katie hunched down in the corner of the cold, sterile, glassed-in observation room, knees drawn up to her chest as she rocked back and forth in an effort to get warm.

The thin hospital gown she wore offered little protection from the bone-aching chill. It was as though Esteban had stored her in the freezer.

She laid her forehead on her arm and closed her eyes as she rocked harder. Her belly still cramped from the procedure performed just hours earlier. She’d been restrained on an exam table, her legs forced apart, and she’d lain there helpless as the first egg extraction had been performed.

Esteban had been delighted to discover that she was at the perfect time in her cycle. The discovery of two mature eggs ready to be released during ovulation had been enough for him to go ahead with the procedure instead of putting her through a regimen of fertility drugs as he’d threatened. Why he hadn’t taken both at the same time, she didn’t know. An important piece of the puzzle was missing, but she couldn’t wrap her brain around what.

She couldn’t feel more violated than if she’d been raped. This was worse. Much worse.

She ignored the tapping on the glass wall. It would be Esteban. Asking once again how she was doing. As if it mattered.

His voice filtered over the intercom system. “Prepare yourself, Katie. This next part…is not pleasant.”

Her head came up, and she stared dully through the glass to see Esteban standing by the speaker, his hand on the button.

“It will be over soon, though, and then you can rest,” he said in a soothing voice.

What the hell could be worse than what she’d already been subjected to?

A hissing sound, like an airlock being broken, sizzled over her ears. She yanked her gaze up in alarm to see a cloudy vapor seeping into the room from every vent. She scrambled up, panic beating at her mercilessly.

The bastard was gassing her.

She turned and began to pound at the glass. “No! You son of a bitch. You can’t do this!” she screamed. “This isn’t my choice. I don’t want this.”

Esteban pressed his hand against the glass, mirroring hers. An expression of regret framed his face. He looked almost…sorry.

Fire raced over her skin. She inhaled as she cried out in pain and then coughed and choked as the chemical entered her lungs. Oh God, she was on fire from the inside out. Burning.

Her hands slapped and wiped frantically at her skin. She was melting. Her skin was going to slide right off her bones.

Her eyes singed, and tears poured copiously down her cheeks. She fell, writhing, to the ground. Agony. She couldn’t take it.

Razor blades scoured her flesh, marking her, but she didn’t bleed. She had no blood to give. It boiled in her veins. Burned like acid.

She clawed frantically, trying to relieve the pressure, to give the poison somewhere to go, to escape. Her throat closed in. Her tongue swelled, and she tried in vain to draw a breath.

She was going to die. She wanted to die.

Numbly, she lay there, her entire body twitching as her nerve endings fired. The floor felt cool against her cheek and she rubbed, trying to infuse more of the blessed chill into her tormented body.

Saliva pooled in her mouth, odd against her dry, cracked tongue. It leaked onto the floor as her eyes became fixed and unblinking, focused blindly on the opposite wall.

Her hand. It wouldn’t quit moving. It jumped, her fingers extending and hopping. She curled them into a ball in an attempt to make it stop.

Ants. She was covered in fire ants. They were eating her alive. A sob escaped her lips.

“Let me die,” she whispered.

Rain, sweet and refreshing, poured down on her. Water hit her with bruising force as it fell from the ceiling. She curled into a ball and held her hands over her face. After a moment it stopped and then quiet descended.

She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t obey her commands. She was locked in the worst kind of hell. On the inside the pain still raced, surging through her veins like a brushfire. The bitter chill, made worse by the soaking she’d received, encased the outside of her body.

But worse than the pain was the fear of what he’d turned her into.