through the opening he’d made in the back of their tent.
He counted twelve hostages—men, women, and children. When he got them far enough away, he’d come back for Kate.
Kinkaid crouched on the edge of the clearing with his G3 aimed toward the camp. After he nudged his head and gave the signal for each hostage to move into the trees, he kept his eyes alert for the other guards and any signs of movement. One by one, the captives made their escape from the camp. And two of the men helped the children. When the last hostage crept by him, he backed away from the camp with his assault rifle leveled and melded into the shadows. He took a detour to retrieve the two AK-47s that he’d stashed with the bodies of the guards and joined the men, women, and children, who were waiting for him.
Under the cover of darkness and shielded by the trees, the hostages huddled in a spot away from the camp and stared at him with expectant and scared faces. Dealing with dizziness and a queasy stomach, he knelt in front of them with clinched teeth to mask his nausea.
Kinkaid fixed his gaze on the three men in the group.
“Do any of you know how to use an AK-47?” he whispered, holding up one of the rifles.
When he pointed to Joselyne—and waited for her answer—the little girl finally broke down and smiled with a shake of her head. He winked and turned back to the men. Only one had raised his hand and nodded.
Kinkaid gave instruction to the men as he handed over the confiscated assault rifles. He had no expectations that these civilians would know how to fire a weapon or become marksmen after one quick lesson. His goal was simple. He wanted them to make noise if they had to and avoid killing each other in the process.
“Follow me single file. Do as I do and watch over the kids,” he said in a low voice and looked into the eyes of each of his charges. “After we get going, not a sound, okay?”
He led them back to where he’d stowed his gear. The location was far enough away from the terrorist camp and had good cover for them to hide until he returned. He stayed off the path and navigated through brush. It made the trek slow, especially with the kids.
When they got to his stashed gear, he said, “I’m going back for Sister Kate.”
Joselyne chewed a corner of her lip with a worried crease between her eyebrows. She didn’t complain, but the little girl looked frightened.
“You.” He pointed at her and shoved his pack in her direction. “Watch my stuff. I’m coming back for it.”
Joselyne nodded with a fleeting smile. Her worried look had softened when he talked about returning. She took a step toward him and touched his arm, saying, “Please…find her.”
He crooked his lip into a half grin and tapped a finger to her nose. “Whatever you say, sweet girl. Now go on with this nice lady here. I got something to tell these guys.”
The men with weapons stayed put while Joselyne and the others pulled deeper into the shadows and hid. When Kinkaid knew he was alone with the men, he spoke in a hushed voice.
“All hell is about to break loose,” he warned them. “Don’t panic. Stay down until it’s over. If I don’t come back, this is what I want you to do.”
There was only one reason he wouldn’t be back, and by the looks on the men’s faces, they understood what he meant. After he shared his contingency plan, he went back for Kate. From where her tent was located in the center of camp, he would need a diversion that made him look like an army.
He knew exactly what to do.
Alexa got a signal from Hank that they were getting close to the coordinates Garrett had given them. The location her boss had relayed for the terrorists was dead ahead. If she had any doubts about the validity of the locale or Jackson Kinkaid’s whereabouts, her doubts vanished in a hail of bullets. She heard shots fired. And she recognized the sound of Kinkaid’s HK G3 assault rifle. Downrange of her position, muzzle flashes lit the night sky and sent orange streaks through the trees. And the assault escalated when grenades erupted. Fire-balls exploded with a thunderous boom that echoed off the canyon walls.
“Oh, hell,” she cursed.
She used her night-vision binoculars to evaluate the situation and gave her orders through a series of hand gestures. Her men moved out like the well-trained team they were. With her men in formation, she cut through the brush and down a steep embankment, heading for the fight with her M4 assault rifle clutched in her hands. With enemy bullets ricocheting off stone and cutting through the trees, she stayed low and steadied her breathing, despite the pounding of her heart and the adrenaline rushing through her system.
Whatever happened now, they’d have to end it and get out. News of the incident would precipitate an investigation, and the world would soon know what happened here. If Garrett expected them to keep a low profile —to get in and out—she had no choice but to end it and have her team gone before morning, with no trace left behind.
But nothing would be that simple with a guy like Jackson Kinkaid.
Kinkaid felt the blowback off the grenade as the blast erupted. The fierce explosion radiated heat and a burst of hot air hit his body. Red embers spiraled into the night sky and sparks set tree limbs on fire. Shadows of men were silhouetted against the intense flames as they ran through the camp and into the hills. While they searched for cover, Kinkaid kept on the move.
He threw another grenade, which ripped apart a stone dwelling. A body in flames blew through the door and rolled into the clearing. And when shards of stone and wood splinters rained down on Kinkaid, he ducked and kept running through the billowing black smoke that drifted into a thick haze.
Heading for Kate’s tent, he raced through the encampment firing his weapon for cover, tossing spent magazines and reloading on the run. Two men bolted from behind a shanty and fired their AK-47s. He felt the high- pitched whine of bullets whizzing by his head and fired back. His assault rifle bucked in his hands and jolted with every round as he fired on the run.
One man toppled to the ground after he was hit several times. Kinkaid shifted his aim and took out the other guy. As the rounds hit his body, the man jerked with every strike. His face went slack, and he collapsed to the ground.
More shots were fired and Kinkaid felt the burn of a bullet that grazed his arm. He dove for cover behind a shack made of cinder blocks and, with his back pressed to the outer wall of the hut, peered around the corner. Sweat stung his eyes, and another wave of nausea hit him.
One man fired cover rounds as the other two raced by the fire pit. They were trying to surround him and put him in the middle of cross fire.
“Fuck that.” He backed into the shadows and maneuvered until he got all three men facing the fire. With him staying in the dark, he would screw with their night vision. The advantage would be his for a split second.
It would have to be enough.
All three men fired at once, aiming for where he had been. Chipped stone flew into the air as bullets pounded the wall. Feeling cocky, the bastards kept firing. With smug expressions, they came out from cover firing. He waited until he had a clear shot at all three—and opened fire.
Everything slowed to a painful crawl. He was locked in the moment with three armed men. He kept on the move. Brass glinted in the firelight as his shell casings flew. His G3 assault rifle bucked in his hands in fierce recoil. The men turned to face him as he flanked them, but they were too slow. The first man was hit again and again. He staggered into the cross fire. And when bullets riddled his body, he died where he stood and dropped to the dirt. Kinkaid didn’t stop firing, and he kept his feet moving. When he shifted his aim, his rounds pummeled the last men standing. And he didn’t stop shooting until they hit the ground.
The firefight was over…for now.
With his ears ringing, Kinkaid knew time was running out, and he’d lost the element of surprise. He tossed his spent mag and loaded a new one. When he raced to Kate’s tent across the clearing, he pictured her face. He wanted to see her…to see that first look of relief to know she’d been rescued.
“Kate!” he yelled as he got to her tent and flung back the tarp. “Kate, it’s me. Jackson Kinkaid. I’m taking you home.”
When he yanked back the tent flap, he looked inside. Behind him, the flames cast light into the dark—enough for him to see that the tent was empty.
