Sky's Lark (10 page)

When Bryce called, he demanded to meet Santora in person to make sure to get the entire one million dollar reward in cash, not trusting another lackey to cut in on his earnings. Santora agreed through Shark, instructing them to head right over to his base of operations and promising to have the cash ready in exchange for Lark.

The Wind Warriors headed out first to set up a perimeter, strategically place a few charges, and lie in wait for them to arrive. Once inside, the guys would wait a few minutes then the fireworks would begin. They'd serve as a distraction and pave a safe way out of harm for the two inside.

"Stay with me. I don't want him dragging you off before the cavalry arrives," Bryce commanded sternly, his voice soft in the confines of his rental car. "Still got your weapon?"

She nodded. "In my purse holster. I sincerely doubt they'll check us for weapons, but if they do, things may go south in a hurry."

He shrugged. "If they find mine, I'm sure the guards won't be surprised. After all, pretty much every gang member and man on the street is packing. I'm not worried about me since they would just disarm me and go on with business as usual."

"Which leaves you unable to defend yourself," she argued, her eyebrows scrunching in a frown.

Impulsively, he leaned over to kiss her nose. "Think positive. Get in, get out, and make a call to your brother. All in a day's work."

"Then playtime as a reward?" She grinned at him.

"Definitely." Bryce pulled up to the gate, pressing on the speaker to announce his arrival. The gates slowly opened, allowing them entrance.

He drove around as ordered before coming to a stop in a large circular drive. Shark stepped from the immense front porch to the driver's side. Bryce rolled the window down.

"Boss wants you to pull to the back, park in front of the garage door."

"I won't turn the girl over to anyone but him. I earned the bounty and I'm damned well collecting it."

Shark nodded abruptly. "He understands that. We'll meet you down there. "

Rolling up the window, Bryce slowly navigated the gravel drive around the luxurious mansion to the silver-colored warehouse just behind. Locating the entrance, he parked the vehicle before sharing a quick look with Lark. "It's show time."

He stepped from the car, pocketed the keys, and moved to the passenger side to collect Lark. Grabbing her with one strong hand, he tugged her to the small entry adjacent to the garage door. Without releasing his hold on her, Bryce stepped over the threshold and onto the flat cement floor of what appeared to be a storage warehouse.

Boxes and crates lined one wall, probably either marked for distribution or just arrived from the wholesaler, waiting to be sorted and bagged for the street. Armed guards sauntered around the building, most carrying automatic weapons slung over their shoulders.

A closing door pulled his attention to the southwest corner where Santora and Shark emerged from an office. Both men walked with confidence, their gazes roaming over Lark.

"Marks. I see you came through for me." Santora's pristine white suit and matching loafers set off his dark skin tone but also accentuated his slim build. His brown hair was slicked back over his head, giving the appearance of just exiting the shower. Nearly black eyes full of cruelty sparked as he stared at Lark, his pinched face morphing into a wicked grin. "So we meet again, beautiful."

"Unfortunately way too soon," Lark snipped back.

The drug lord only smiled widely, his expression full of torturous plans. "I believe you have promises to fulfill." He stepped forward to reach for her chin.

Bryce jerked her back a step. "Speaking of promises, the bounty was one million dollars in cash. Hand it over so I can be on my way."

Santora's gaze switched from Lark to Bryce.

Bryce refused to look away or budge. Like wolves challenging for dominance in a pack, breaking eye contact first was considered a sign of submission. Men respected those that stood their ground, which increased not only their chance of walking out alive, but also bought more time for the Wind Warriors to get into position and begin the initial stage of the mission.

Finally Santora broke the standoff. "You are right,
señor
." He snapped his fingers, sending Shark scurrying back to the room they'd just vacated. "I always pay my debts, my reputation depends on it."

Moments later Shark returned. He clicked open a briefcase, and pulled up on the lid to display rows and rows of American currency.

"One million dollars. As promised."

Bryce glanced at the money. "Toss me one of those packs. Not that I don't trust you, but it's always good to be sure."

At the nod from his boss, Shark clutched a couple of bundles and tossed them to Bryce.

Fingering through the bills, Bryce vaguely noticed all were legitimate as he took the opportunity to scan the area, searching for potential barriers that could serve as a blockage against bullets until he and Lark could escape to the office. "Looks good." He flipped the bundles back to Shark who placed them back into the case before shutting it again.

"Now the girl." The middleman stepped forward, latched onto Lark's arm, and yanked her toward Santora.

Bryce forced himself to remain calm and passive, knowing if he showed too much interest or protective instincts, the others would catch on. Santora didn't climb to the apex of a drug cartel by being stupid and probably excelled at reading body language. How better to catch a double-crosser than to pick up on certain telling signals before confronting the individual?

Shark shoved the container of money into Bryce's hands as Santora took possession of Lark, who put up a token resistance.

Where in the hell are they?
Bryce stepped back a notch, keeping his attention focused on the men in charge. "Since I brought her in, I should have a higher status in the group now. At least above Rodriguez." He tossed out the idea to buy another minute.

Shark sneered while Santora moved backward, hauling Lark with him. "Perhaps. I will have to consider your request. Later. Right now, I have more pressing matters." His gaze raked over her body.

Shit.
With no other excuse to stay, Bryce eased back to the door he'd entered, slowly making his way out as if extra cautious. The men in power positions marched across the vast room while those with arms stood relaxed, watching him with bored expressions on their faces. With a last glimpse, he strode through the door and jumped back in the car, cursing his luck and the men who were to be their backup.

Ideas and possibilities raced through his mind, anything to get to Lark and fast. He cranked the engine, then slipped the car into gear. Backing, he turned around and headed toward the main gate, only to come to a stop at a semi-concealed area on the opposite side of the mansion, one with tall evergreen trees providing dense shade from their drooping branches. He turned the engine off then slipped out, taking a sniper rifle and a handful of grenades from the large black duffel Lark left behind. Tools in hand, he stalked in the shadows, warily sliding from cover to cover.

The first explosion sent the smaller storage building rocketing into the sky, its contents showering back to earth like pieces of brightly colored confetti. Chaos followed.

Bryce sprinted for the large warehouse, taking positions of relative safety whenever possible in his haste to find Lark and wrench her away from Santora. His powerful legs churned as he dodged one guard and slammed the butt of his rifle into the man's face before he could even raise his weapon or an alarm. After verifying the man wouldn't be getting back up again soon, Bryce loped down the long side of the building, pausing only to scan the area and to peek around the corner before continuing ahead.

Sounds of a violent struggle sounded through the thin tin wall of the warehouse in the area where he believed the office to be. He cussed a blue streak as he realized no windows or doors existed on that side of the building. He couldn't get in to provide any assistance to Lark.

The
rat-a-tat-tat
of automatic fire carried loudly across the compound, mixing in with another
kaboom
as more solid structures crumbled under the explosive power.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a figure covered in fatigues place another charge several feet behind him next to the foundation. With a sharp whistle, he garnered the man's attention, pointing and mouthing "Lark." The man nodded and waved him back a few steps before pushing the button and flying around the corner, his weapon bouncing against his back the whole way.

A small blast rippled the wall of the building, strong enough to bend and tear walls down, but not nearly the massive destruction seen at other areas. Crumpled tin pulled away from the frame, producing jagged openings, some small, others larger.

Bryce found the nearest hole and twisted his body enough to slide through the gap before taking a moment to reorient himself. Boxes and crates lay haphazardly across the once open area, their contents flung all over. Suspicious white powder lay in streaks across the concrete and clouded the air.

Guards ran from the building, shirts held over their faces as they protected their lungs from the air thick with cocaine. More than one coughed and choked as they scurried for safety and fresh air.

Bryce quickly knotted his handkerchief over his face before heading toward the room where Shark and Santora dragged Lark. The walls stood, though fragile and with multiple separations of the paneling. The wooden door was bent in half, the top yanked clear off its hinges while the bottom portion clung desperately to what remained of the frame.

"You dirty rotten bastard." Lark's voice full of anger carried to him, propelling him into quick motion.

He hurdled through the door, landing and turning in one motion, prepared to defend himself or Lark from whatever came their way. Instead, the scene before him had his jaw dropping open in disbelief.

Lark stood over a prone male body. She was kicking the crap out of the guy's side and kidneys, still holding her purse in hand as if she did no more than merrily bounce through the mall, window shopping as she went.

"Get up so I can castrate you properly, you lowlife scum!"

Blinking, Bryce watched her go off on the unmoving body. Another body lay across the back wall, blood soaking through the front of his shirt. Death by bullet was the diagnosis.

"Lark!" he yelled over her fury. "Time to go!"

For the first time, she looked up, her blue-eyed gaze latching onto his face, before glancing back down once more. "I'm not done."

"Yes, you are." He grabbed her by the arm, giving her a small shake. "The guys are blowing the place up and cocaine clouds are everywhere. We don't get going, you'll end up high and on a gurney. Now move!" The command rivaled an enraged drill sergeant.

The words must have sunk in as she scurried behind the desk to grab a laptop. "Files. In there." She pointed to a small cabinet.

Bryce jerked the door open, grabbed everything inside, and tucked all the paperwork into his shirt for safekeeping. Spying one more laptop in the bottom drawer, he tucked it under one arm and marched over to Lark.

She rifled through the desk for another moment, grabbed a couple more items, then gave him a quick nod. Bryce took the lead, high-tailing it over the broken door and back through the partially destroyed wall, holding his breath until they reached fresh air. When they reached his rental car on the far side of the property, he tossed everything in the trunk, gun included, and slid into the driver's seat. Lark followed suit, plopping into the passenger's side and pulling up the discarded communication gear from the floorboard.

"Clear. Target tango."

"Copy," Night said as a large boom sounded in the background. Orders flowed in Navajo as Night and his men communicated.

Bryce shook his head at the smile of excitement on her face. She resembled a child on Christmas morning. "You want to go play?"

She shot him a huge grin, jumped out of the front seat, and dug through her bag for a few remaining weapons. Goods in hand, she sprinted back toward the action, tugging on the black gas mask as she went.

Bryce followed suit after locking the car up tight and setting the alarm, his relief intermingling with satisfaction at their success and the sheer happiness he spied on Lark's face. A true warrior woman. He could no more keep her out of the fight than he could jump to the moon. And, honestly, he couldn't blame her a bit, as even he caught the bug, eager to bound into the foray to destroy yet another pox on the planet and prevent a few more kids from being poisoned by hardcore drugs.

As he reached the corner of the house, the hairs on his neck stood at attention. Throwing himself against the north wall, he peered around the corner, searching for a back entrance that would allow him to slip in undetected in case anyone decided to take shelter in the old house located just in front of the presently exploding warehouses that served as Santora's base. Gun in hand, Bryce slowly and quietly advanced on a side door, ignoring the chaos nearby. Hearing no footsteps or gunfire, he kicked the screen door open.

He hugged the doorframe, counting to ten under his breath, before he crouched, rushed into the room, and plastered himself against the wall.

Flicking a glance across the room, he found appliances and furniture consistent with a modern kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted him, no mugs of steaming coffee or turned over items that would indicate someone used the room until the invasion drove them onward and possibly outward. Gliding to his left, he sought shelter behind a refrigerator, and peeked around, intently watching for any signs of movement or an ambush. Shark ventured out of this very house earlier, meaning a high probability existed for someone else to still be inside, biding their time to pick off the Wind Warriors at any given opportunity.

Bryce sucked in a breath and inched forward, his handgun at the ready in his outstretched arms. Step after step, he moved from one smaller room into a larger open family area, dotted with a handful of basic furniture. Another doorway loomed to his left. He maneuvered across the opening to get a brief glimpse inside. Another empty room. Satisfied, he pressed onward, freezing at the sound of shuffling papers coming from just ahead. All senses on alert, he made his way to the next doorway, and listened. Sure enough muted sounds carried out of the room to his ears. Drawers thudded softly as they were opened and shut.