“Four,” he corrected. “There’s ‘five star’ hotels and then there’s the Four Seasons.” He groaned and sat back in his seat. “And yes, I’d much rather be there. I thought the one in Scottsdale was nice, but man, when we went to Maui—”
“What’s the sitrep, Top?” DJ interrupted.
Bobby slowly shook his head. “As of now, you know what I know. Mauk called me, and he was holed up here.” He glanced to the rearview then sighed. “Whoever it is that’s after us means business.”
“They’re Spanish,” DJ stated. “Or, anyway the assholes that came after me were speaking Spanish. One of them survived long enough to say ‘Murillo.’”
“Then this must be tied to Colombia,” Bridger said as he turned off the highway.
“And somebody named Hermana,” DJ added. “It was one of the shooter’s dying words.”
Lisa’s head spun and she stared at him. “Hermana means: ‘sister.’”
DJ gave her a confused look. “Like…not a name?”
Bridger’s mind raced. “Did Murillo have a sister?” His mind flipped through the different attacks that they had made on the Murillo cartel before they’d split and gone their different ways.
“I’ll check as soon as we get back to a signal.” Gregg made a mental note, his eyes scanning for any more walking bushes as the Tahoe maneuvered through the forested roads.
“Jesus, Bridger. Where is this place?” Lisa asked.
“About as deep into the park as you can get and still be near a road.” Bridger slowed for a sharp turn then goosed the SUV up an ice slicked road. “Thankfully, this time of year, there’s hardly anybody up here.”
DJ leaned forward. “You’d think Mauk would have his own cabin in the woods even deeper from civilization than this.”
Bridger nodded. “He does.” He glanced at DJ’s reflection. “But it’s trackable. He was able to rent this under an alias.”
Lisa shook her head. “I don’t like this. We won’t be able to see them coming.”
Bridger smiled to himself. “But they’ll have to be close to get us. Snipers are useless in woods this dense.”
DJ sat back and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I think I’d rather not see it coming if it’s all the same.”
“I’d rather not die at all,” Gregg added. “I’m too pretty to die.”
Mauk could barely keep his eyes open as the group settled in. He poured a fresh cup of coffee and fished in his pocket for the caffeine pills.
Bridger caught his hand and gave him a raised brow. “What is that?”
“Just caffeine, brother.” He held the bottle up and shook it. “I’m almost out.”
“You need sleep, not stimulants.” Bridger relaxed his grip. “If they track us here, we all need you alert.”
Mauk raised a brow and held the bottle up. “This is alert.”
Bridger sighed and stepped away. “I’d rather you be rested.”
“So would I.” Mauk popped the white tablets and washed it down with the coffee
“This ain’t gonna work,” Gregg muttered, glancing around the small cabin. “There’s five of us and a double bed.”
“I’ll take the couch.” Lisa tossed her bag to the ratty couch and walked to the coffee pot.
DJ pulled out a chair and spun it around backward. He sat in the chair and leaned across the back. “We need a game plan that doesn’t involve sitting here and waiting.”
Bridger stood beside the door, occasionally peeking through the threadbare curtain. “We’ve got a plan. It’s just that nobody is going to like it.”
“Let me guess…” Gregg moaned.
Bobby smiled. “We hide and wait.”
“There’s snow on the ground, Bridger.” Gregg was on his feet now.
Bobby nodded. “If they can track DJ to the ‘glades, they can track us here. I’d rather be cold for a bit and remove them first, than chance them getting the drop on us.”
“There are more cabins available,” Mauk stated. “I reserved another one when Bridger said he was coming.”
The group turned and looked at him.
Mauk set his coffee down then pulled a brochure from his pocket. “This is a crude map of the park. I X’d off the available cabins.” He set the brochure on the small dinette table and tapped the Xs. “I reserved this one. These over here are empty too.” He looked up at the group. “Anybody see what I see?”
Bridger nodded slowly. “A kill zone right in the middle.”
Mauk pushed the map away. “You’re welcome.”
Bridger turned to Gregg. “Call them and reserve three more cabins. If we have an operator in each one, we’ll increase our odds of surviving this.”
DJ stood and crossed his arms. “Top, I’ve only got a .45 and three mags to my name.”
“Ditto,” Lisa stated.
Bridger held a finger up. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the cabin and returned a moment later carrying the two large duffles. He dropped them in the floor then hunkered to unzip them. He held a 12 gauge out to Mauk. “Your preferred close quarters weapon, I believe.”
Mauk smiled as he pumped the tactical shotgun. “Oh, baby. Come to poppa.”
He pulled the Lapua out and set it aside. “Probably not the best weapon for dense woods, but there’s more.” He pulled out a short barreled M4 and three boxes of ammunition. “Go easy on that fun switch, DJ. That’s all the .556 I brought.”
“Single fire is more accurate anyway.” DJ slammed a magazine into the well and chambered a round. “Smooth.”
“She’s match grade, brother.” Bridger dug into the second bag and pulled up two submachine guns. He handed the HK MP5s to Lisa. “If you’d like a pair?”
She pointed into the bag. “I’d rather have the Sig 552. Those are chambered in .223, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the rifle. “I only have three mags for it so you may have to reload on the fly.”
“No problem.” She shoved the magazine into the magwell and cradled the rifle. “So we have the armaments. Anybody got a clue why they’ve targeted us after all this time?”
Gregg hung up the phone and nodded to Bridger. “The cabins are
