sounded like the third row.
“It’ll be obvious once we get there. Your only duty right now is to do what I say, when I say it. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” echoed in several voices.
“Good enough. Marcos, turn into the parking lot and go all the way to the end.” She pointed. “Park on the far side of that black SUV.” She glanced at the teen to see him nodding, eyes blinking rapidly, throat moving as he swallowed his nerves. “Easy stuff, kid. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
The van bumped over the rough driveway, and Marcos had to swerve around some very serious potholes, but soon enough they were pulling to a stop, just as the door in front of them opened and Brian stood waiting. He had a forbidding presence, Layla had to admit, all six feet, four inches of him, standing there in full battle dress, bristling with weapons.
“Everyone out,” she called. “No squeals, no screams. Quick and quiet, stay low.”
In the doorway, Brian stood back as the teens scurried past him into the room, while River barked orders in Spanish with a bit of British accent leaking through. Layla meanwhile snagged the keys from Marcos as he bailed out, locked the minivan’s doors, and followed them in.
“Good to have you here, Captain,” Brian said as he closed the door.
River was hustling the teens into an adjoining room. “You don’t move without my permission,” he ordered. “Head’s over there. The bathroom,” he added in a longsuffering tone, then explained, “Soft drinks in the cooler, sandwiches, too. Now stay. And don’t touch that fucking door. Got it?”
There was a chorus of agreement, and then Riv walked back to rejoin the others. He was tall and deceptively lean, his brown hair still worn military short. He was good-looking enough that she’d seen one or two of the girls giving him wide eyes, and Layla loved him like a brother. But he was a fiend for neatness and always had sanitizing wipes in his pack. He was also a damn good pilot and could fly anything with wings or without. He’d been flying a helicopter for the British SSA, when she and Brian had crossed paths with him at a bar in Istanbul. And when they’d decided to put together their own team, he’d been the first one they’d called.
Kerry of the lucky hunches was sitting in the first room, hunched over a computer, with a paper map of the town sitting next to her. She was five feet, four inches of muscle, with a sniper’s eye and a sixth degree black belt in Shotokan karate. Her blond hair was cut short, and she had soulful brown eyes that she frequently used to her advantage.
“Anything from recon?” Layla asked, after exchanging greetings with everyone and rescuing her weapons from the makeshift purse. She settled back against the headboard and accepted the cold soda River brought her, while ignoring his frown of disapproval over the feet she had propped on the bed.
Kerry nodded without looking up. “We followed a different gossip trail than Brian, but ended up at the same house.” She looked up at Layla abruptly. “What are we doing with them?” she asked, jerking her head toward the other room.
“They were out looking on their own. I decided they’d be safer with us. Once we have the littles, we’ll take them all home.”
Kerry shrugged. Shit always happened and they dealt with it. It was what they did. “Riv, why don’t you provide details, so I can finish this?”
“Right. Kerry and I tracked the van, figuring that was our best lead. If it’s used all the time to shuttle the kids to school, people in this town have to know it, recognize it, know where it’s supposed to be, and where it’s not. We wore civvies, just another vacationing couple stopping in for coffee and pastry. A lot of people were doing the same, talking to each other, and we listened. Word’s gotten out about the missing kids. Mostly via pals at the school, where their absence had been noticed. Apparently, gossip begins at an early age. Some kid was in the director’s office, and overhead a conversation. Another boy’s mom came to pick him up, worried her kid would be next. And on and on.
“Upshot is word got out and people noticed when the van drove by a place it shouldn’t be. One guy, former military, noticed the shattered window, the blood on the door. A gran paid attention because the kids were