stuff from trees. A small green iguana skittered toward their path, saw Jugs, changed direction and vanished into the thicket. She noticed broken branches. Max was following those. Red and blue Macaws called from trees, blurs of color between the thick cover.
They walked for an hour, moving through thick jungle, a wall of green in front of them, the trail the Marines had left extremely easy to follow. As they approached some granite cliffs, she noticed something just at the edge of the rocks. She touched Hemingway’s pack. When Jugs barked, they surged forward.
They followed the Malinois. Then the line stopped, and she couldn’t see a thing, until she shouldered all the six-feet-something men out of the way. She gasped and stopped dead as whatever had agitated Jugs was revealed.
“Lance Corporal Thomas Schellenberg,” Shea said.
“He’s been dead for about three days, I’d say,” Saint said, crouching beside the body. “No gunshots. He was beaten to death, tortured.”
“Where’s Hanson and Taggert?” Bates asked, sounding truly worried about his nephew. If the man had a heart, it was smaller than the Grinch’s, she was sure.
She looked across the rocky ground toward the edge of the jungle. The trail was wider, more broken. She left them and walked toward the area. Hemingway broke off and followed her.
“You shouldn’t—”
“There was a large force that came through here,” she said, fingering a broken branch. “Whoever killed Schellenberg, probably has Hanson and Taggert. We need to go this way.”
“Good eye,” Fast Lane said. Turning to his team, he made a point of gripping his weapon. “Keep it tight and your heads on a swivel. I don’t think these hostiles are going to like us raining on their parade.” His next command was one word. “Dragon.”
The SEAL took off into the jungle. “He’s going to scope it out and report back to us,” Hemingway said.
“Recon.” She smiled.
As they moved back into the jungle, Dragon’s voice came over the comms. “LT, there’s a bunch of guys here—six, four of them look American, two Hispanic, armed to the teeth, watching an old farmhouse. Can’t determine their purpose. There’s a perimeter patrol, more tangos with autos. Look like drug runners to me.”
“Copy that. Let’s have a chat,” Fast Lane said.
“You stay here,” he said to her and Bates. The look on his face told her Bates wasn’t happy, but even he realized these guys were better at getting the drop on the men in black.
She tried to keep her eyes on the SEALs, but as they disappeared, her nerves drew taut. Then suddenly, they burst out of the jungle, weapons at the ready.
One of the men started to speak in rapid Spanish, and a blond guy stepped forward with his hands raised. “Whoa, DEA,” he said. “DEA.”
“Identification,” Fast Lane barked.
“I’m reaching for it,” he cautioned as he pulled out a brown leather case and flipped it open.
Max moved forward with Jugs. “Stay still. He doesn’t like any quick movements.” He took the badge and the guy froze everything except his eyes as he looked down at Jugs, panting and showing those long, white canines.
“What’s your purpose here?” Fast Lane asked as Max nodded, handed back his badge and retreated with Jugs.
“We’ve been tracking this group from Argentina.” He slipped his badge back under his vest. They are part of the Corta Cartel. I think they were hunting these three. We don’t know why.”
“Don’t tell me you just watched as they killed that Marine back there.”
“No, we came across him dead already.” Regret filled his voice. “I’ve already contacted the American Embassy and the Marine Corps to get him out of here.”
“Are you going to just sit here, while they murder the other two?”
“We’re outgunned and were waiting for backup, but I’m not sure those two can survive.” On cue there was a blood curdling scream and the sound of a man yelling obscenities.
“Now you’re reinforced.”
“SEALs?”
“And NCIS. We were tasked with finding the Marines.”
The DEA agent nodded. “Special Agent Todd Miles, glad to have you with us.”
“This is what’s going to happen,” Fast Lane said.
Shea and Bates were moved back, and she watched the swift and deadly raid. The cartel members didn’t know what hit them. There was loud gunfire as she stayed undercover on her knees, tense and hoping for only casualties on the cartel side of the battle.
Suddenly, a gun lodged into the middle of her back, and Bates grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her head back, the tendons of her throat protesting.
“I know what you’re doing,