His cell rang, the vibrations somehow stronger. Patch glanced at McGuire over his shoulder, brow arched. His buddy knew about the unsanctioned phone. The one that only dialedhernumber.
McGuire palmed the cell. “You know this is life or death only, Savvy, and we’re in the thick of it.”
His sister, Hunter Savannah “Savvy” LaSalle. Regional division chief for the CIA out of Virginia. Hardcore. Loyal. And the only person outside his team he trusted implicitly. Would go to hell and back from nothing more than a hunch.
She huffed. “I know. I watched it all go for shit until the feed cut off. That’s why I called.”
“Sorry, sis. I was a little busy. Who cut the feed?”
“Langley. Said it was compromised. That he couldn’t risk the hackers might gain access to the command center if he kept it live. Why?”
Son of a bitch.“I’ll fill you in later.”
She sighed. “I know about Dane. I’m sorry. Langley’s trying to play it as your team going rogue. That you broke comms, took the weapons. I’ve got a bird in the air heading your way. Send me your coordinates.”
He didn’t hesitate, just tapped them out.
She breathed into the phone, keystrokes sounding in the background. “Got it. Stay on that river for three klicks. There’s an opening on the left. Chopper will pick you up. We’ve only got maybe five minutes on Langley’s intercept team, so don’t miss that bird.” She paused, her breath still sounding in his ear. “There’s just one catch…”
He stilled. That was never a good sign. “Listening.”
“You have until you board that helicopter to decide if you’re going back, fighting a court martial while putting everyone you know at risk, or if you’re letting me do what I do best.”
He glanced at his teammates. “I don’t think some crappy CIA safehouse is gonna fool Langley for long. Not with his resources.”
“Who said anything about a safehouse?”
He inhaled. “Well, shit. You want to fucking ghost us.”
“It’s your choice. Tell the pilot. He’s got instructions for both, but McGuire… You can’t win this fight if you’re caged.”
“Understood. One more thing...”
Savvy snorted. “Like saving all your asses isn’t enough?”
“There was a woman. Codename Cinder. She sent a warning over channel sixteen. Talked us out — a real Hail Mary. Everything about her screamed operative, and if my hunch is right, she just blew her cover to save us. I need you to find her. Keep her safe.”
“Glad it’s nothing impossible.” Silence, then a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. You just make sure you get on that chopper.”
She ended the call, the heavy silence a reminder of how Cinder’s call had ended, only he wasn’t sure if she’d even gotten out alive. If he’d been the cause of another death.
The ghosted whine of the RPG echoed in his head as they floated downstream, beached the skiff when they reached the site. An eerie stillness hung over the riverbank, even the frogs pausing to listen.
Patch moved in beside him, gun at the ready. “Chopper’s inbound. Let’s hope we’re the only ones around to hear it, or this could be the shortest rescue in history.”
McGuire scoffed. “Only if you run like a damn grandpa. What’s wrong? That metal slab in your arm slowing you down?”
“At least I’m not dreaming about a voice over the radio. And yeah, you are. You’ve got that look.”
“I don’t have any look, dumbass.”
“It’s the one where you scrunch up your nose. It’s really quite adorable.”
“Shut up.” McGuire held position as the matte-black helicopter screamed in hot, the pilot bleeding off the speed in one dramatic flare before planting it on the wet grass, engines still at full throttle, holding the weight.
They darted out, Cross covering their six before jumping onboard, the pilot peeling off a heartbeat later, palm trees bending against the downwash.
He clicked his mic, gazed back at McGuire. “Well, boss? What’s it gonna be?”