Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,85

To Gus’s dismay, the hostage camp stood quiet, seemingly deserted. There was no sign of life or movement anywhere, only the sound of wire clattering in a breeze redolent with the scent of blood.

“The hostages ran right by us,” Teddy realized, flicking a pitying glance at Gus.

No! He refused to believe Lucy was with them.

“There’s a body at ten o’clock,” Harley murmured.

Holding his weapon before him, Gus scurried toward the open gate. The crackle of a radio greeted him as he pushed inside, his gaze fixed on the body clasping it.

Seeing that the body was too large to be Lucy, he blinked with relief, released the breath he was holding, and bent to free the radio from the man’s lax grasp.

“Jefe,” said a voice, startling him. “What’s happening? We heard shots. Have you seen strangers?”

Ignoring the radio for the time being, Gus realized another figure lay prostrate within the shelter. Fear yanked his scalp tight as he ducked inside to investigate. A gaunt rebel lay at his feet with a bullet hole in his chest and a chain around his neck.

Not Lucy. But she had done this!

Of course, he couldn’t be certain, but it was clean and professional, just the way she’d been trained to operate. He whirled around. “Lucy’s not here,” he murmured into his mouthpiece. Returning to the pen, he joined the others in studying the confusing montage of footprints.

“Jefe!” repeated the voice on the radio. “Are you there? We are headed your way.”

Gus handed off the radio to Luther. “The Elite Guard are right behind us,” he warned.

“Lucy must have fled with the others,” Luther surmised.

“No, she wasn’t with them,” Gus insisted, knowing she would never run into the wilderness—not without him beside her.

“Then where is she?” the OIC demanded.

Gus pointed uphill. “Remember the E & E extraction point?” he asked with growing confidence.

“The summit,” Luther recalled, looking sharply uphill.

“That’s where she went,” Gus answered with heart-swelling pride. “I bet if we look, we can find her tracks.”

“Sirs, over here!” Vinny called.

The medic knelt some distance from the fence, shining his penlight at the ground. Gus and Luther hurried over.

The familiar impression of Lucy’s boots made Gus’s heart thud with joy. “This was Lucy,” he confirmed. They were so close now. “Sir?” he added, desperate to go after her.

The OIC reflected for a moment. “Vinny, get on the SATCOM and tell the JIC we need a helo capable of landing at a high altitude with plenty of cargo space and a second gunship for firepower support. The Venezuelans will be right behind us. I want us off this mountain in under an hour.”

In spite of his certainty, desperation knotted Gus’s insides. The OIC had just put a timeline on finding Lucy.

Don’t let me down, Luce, he thought. This is my last chance to save you.

LUCY FOUND HERSELF STANDING on a windy slope with nothing but coarse, low-lying shrubs and spiny blades of grass, all lit by a full moon.

Following an hour of arduous climbing, she had arrived at the mountain’s alpine crest, where arctic conditions stunted the vegetation. It had been so long since she’d seen the entire sky stretched from one horizon to another that she halted with amazement, letting its vastness overwhelm her.

I’m free! she marveled, dazzled by the brightness of the stars.

The sight of her breath crystallizing in the air jolted her into action.

If she didn’t find the radio station tonight, she would freeze to death. Setting her sights on the mountain’s luminous twin peaks, she climbed over thatch and thorny briars, searching for the elusive station.

A glint of a solar panel drew her gaze to a radio antenna raking the night sky. Beneath the antenna, she made out a door, built into the face of walled cave. She stumbled toward it, conscious of an insidious weakness invading her limbs.

Not much longer, she assured herself. A pale line of light shone beneath the door, beckoning her with the promise of warmth and relief from the numbing wind. She prayed the SEALs’ intel was accurate and that the station was minimally protected.

Checking the chamber in the pistol, she realized she had only three bullets left. Without the gun, she was as weak as a kitten and equally defenseless.

Putting her ear to the door, she willed her ragged breaths to subside, blew a warm breath on her frigid fingers, and listened.

The muted tones of meringue music struck a discordant note. Someone coughed. Stretching a hand to the sturdy latch, she was relieved to find it unlocked.

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