Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Can - By Kat Martin Page 0,122

any rate.”

Ben’s smile looked grim. An army of a thousand men couldn’t keep him from going in after Claire and Sam.

“We’re about a half mile out,” Alex said, checking the GPS. “Look over there. Seems like a good spot to park.”

Ben pulled the SUV off the road and turned it around, then backed into the foliage beneath the branches of an overhanging tree. He and Alex dragged a few palm fronds and a couple of dead branches over and tossed them onto the bumper, hiding the vehicle completely.

Both of them piled into the backseat of the Jeep. Ben fixed his gaze on the landscape outside the window, keeping a sharp watch for unwanted company as Jake continued another quarter mile to their insertion point. As they bounced along the rutted road, the men checked their earbuds and mics, and armed themselves for the mission ahead.

Alex slung the AR-15 over his chest, the weapon Ty Brodie had used, while Trace checked his Beretta nine mil, and Ben dropped the clip on his Nighthawk .45 then shoved it back in.

They traveled another quarter mile before Jake pulled the Jeep into a low spot beside the road, turned the vehicle around and parked it in the deep, leafy foliage where it wouldn’t be seen. The men unloaded, leaving Jesse in the back. With a “go” nod to the others, Ben disappeared into the darkness, the men spreading out behind him, traveling the last quarter mile on foot.

The familiar rattle of flash grenades hanging from his vest, the stun gun in a pocket next to them, Ben moved through the thick, wet foliage, the ground soggy beneath his high-top boots.

“I’m in position,” Jake said through Ben’s earbuds.

“Roger that,” each man replied. Ben, Trace and Alex moved to locations thirty yards apart and dropped down in the undergrowth to wait for the guards to appear as they made their rounds inside the fence. Minutes ticked past, an eternity as Ben waited for Jake to take out the guards so Ben could get inside the compound to retrieve his family.

That’s the way he thought of them now. Claire and Sam meant everything to him. He couldn’t imagine life without them. Claire belonged to him, and so did Sam, and he would give his life to protect them.

Through the heavy foliage, he saw the two guards approaching as they completed a round inside the fence. For a moment, they stopped to speak, then started moving, passing each other and continuing on their way. As the distance between them increased, Ben heard the faint thud of Jake’s rifle, saw the first guard stiffen, slap a hand to the back of his neck and go down.

For the time it took Jake to reload his single-shot air gun, the second guard stood immobile, surveying the heavy foliage through the darkness outside the fence where the faint sound of the shot had come from. Then the soft thud came again and he went down as if he’d been cut off at the knees.

“Move out,” Ben said into his mic. Trace and Alex rose like specters out of the deep green grass, all three of them moving carefully toward the fence.

“Hold!” Ben said into the mic, his foot on the edge of a rudimentary booby trap, a hole dug into the earth lined with rows of deadly sharpened sticks. Rudimentary but lethal if you happened to stumble into one.

“Watch for booby traps. These guys mean business.” Moving a little more slowly, testing each step, they converged at the designated point along the fence line and set to work. No alarms here, just empty cans tied to the fence. In seconds, Ben had cut the wire and bent it upward, making a hole for them to pass through. They were inside.

While Ben checked to be sure there was no one around, Alex positioned himself in the shadows next to an outbuilding close to the fence, his AK ready to lay down cover fire if needed. Crouching low, Ben and Trace moved toward the cabin the satellite had shown Sam and Claire going in and out of that afternoon.

Moonlight passed in and out behind the clouds, lighting the way across the compound. No sign of a Patriot. Reaching the opposite side, Ben pressed his back against the rough wooden wall of the cabin, his gun in both hands and pointed upward. He motioned to Trace, who moved into the spot he vacated as he slipped inside.

Finding only three occupants, Ben holstered his .45. Claire