Marine's Mission - Rebecca Deel Page 0,90

he murmured. “We’re heading out the back. Our gear is in the SUV.”

“We’ll take care of it. Meet us at our vehicles.”

“Copy.” He heard the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Owen opened the closest door. A dark bedroom. Perfect. He pulled Gigi inside, closed the door, and nudged her into the corner, placing his body between her and the threat.

Footsteps rushed past the room where he and Gigi hid. Muffled male cursing was followed by the sound of someone opening one door after another.

“He’s heading this way, G,” Owen whispered.

She squeezed his arm for a second, then released him. Grateful that Gigi was a rock in a crisis, he focused on the job at hand. Deal with the threat, and get Gigi out of this house and off the grounds. Since the estate was hemmed in on three sides by a high, wrought-iron fence, the only direction to go was down to the beach.

Footsteps neared the room where Owen and Gigi hid. The footsteps slowed, stopped. Owen watched the doorknob twist. He waited for the man to step inside the room.

The door swung open. The muzzle of another AK-47 appeared before one of Gonzalez’s guards moved further into the room.

With silent movements, Owen slipped behind the guard and slammed the butt of his Sig onto the man’s head. The guard dropped to the floor.

Owen wrapped his hand around Gigi’s and tugged her to the doorway. After checking the hallway, he led her toward the other wing of the house. Thankful Zane had sent the schematics for the Gonzalez home to his email the night before, Owen headed for the back staircase, hopefully avoiding criminals and American agents alike. “Brody, we’re heading for the beach,” he murmured.

“Go west. We’re launching our part of the mission now. Armed guards are heading toward the building housing the trafficking victims.” The noise of gunfire came through the comm system.

Owen’s jaw clenched. Gonzalez must have left orders for his men to kill the women and children if his estate came under fire. “Copy.”

“Watch your back. We don’t have eyes on Gonzalez. He could be anywhere.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shouts and screams grew louder inside the house followed by rapid gunfire. Owen picked up his pace toward the staircase at the end of the hall. He must get Gigi out of this deathtrap.

Reaching the staircase, he eased the door open and listened. Silence. Excellent. After a quick glance to be sure the stairwell was empty, Owen led Gigi inside.

Weapon up and ready, he started downstairs. At the door to the kitchen, Owen nudged Gigi until her back was flush with the wall and signaled for her to stay still.

When she nodded, he listened for activity in the kitchen. All he heard was a woman sobbing. Owen eased the door open a crack. A server huddled behind a kitchen island, head bowed with her arms wrapped around her knees. Otherwise, the room was empty. This kitchen was the smaller, secondary food prep area.

Owen clasped Gigi’s hand and led her into the kitchen. Within seconds, his hand twisted the knob to the outside door.

A short distance away, chaos reigned as Gonzalez’s guards and a few guests fought against agents. Maria Gonzalez huddled against the corner of the house under a serving table, eyes wide with fear as her husband battled one of the Americans.

Knowing Gonzalez would be a threat to Gigi, Owen wanted to take aim at the gunrunner. However, his first priority was his future wife’s safety. If Gonzalez managed to survive the night and track Owen down, he’d permanently take care of the threat to Gigi.

Owen ran for the stairs to the beach with Gigi on his heels. On the sand, he had the advantage in his tactical boots as they hurried toward the packed sand of the shoreline. Gigi’s feet sank into the soft sand, slowing her pace.

Without slowing, Owen scooped Gigi into his arms and continued across the terrain. When he reached the shoreline, he set his girl on her feet. “Can you run?”

“Let’s go.” Grim determination filled her voice.

They ran a few hundred yards before two men raced toward them on an intersect course, weapons drawn, expressions filled with fury. One of them was Salvatore Gonzalez. The second man was one of his guards.

Owen stopped and moved in front of Gigi. “Run back the way we came. Closest cover is the rocks. Do whatever is necessary to protect yourself. Go!”

She took off, sprinting for the outcropping of rocks.

“Brody, G’s on her own. Outcropping