“We’re all ears, brother,” DJ said as he reached for the coffee pot.
“While I was on the phone renting the cabins, my fingers strolled through the DEA databases. Turns out Murillo did have a sister.” His features hardened as he spun his screen around. “There weren’t many pictures of her available, since she’s dead. But check this one out.”
He spun his laptop around and the group leaned in to look at the photo. Lisa finally shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on her before.”
“In the background.” Gregg tapped over the woman’s shoulder. “Recognize the car?”
“Is that a Range Rover?” DJ asked.
Gregg nodded. “A yellow Rover.” He raised a brow, waiting for the group to connect the dots.
Bridger’s eyes shot wide. “Oh, fuck me.”
The group turned to him in unison. “What?”
Bridger swallowed hard. “Remember when we warned Laughlin that our target wasn’t in the car and he had us blow the bridge anyway?” He waited a moment for them to recollect the event. “We told him that it was full of women and children?”
DJ’s eyes widened. “Murillo’s sister was in the car?”
Lisa fell back onto the couch. “And he’s waited all of this time to get revenge for killing his sister?”
“Wait a second.” Bridger shook his head. “I thought I’d read that Murillo was dead?”
Gregg shrugged. “He could have faked it.”
DJ groaned. “So, somehow, Murillo finds out that we infiltrated his people, he kills Mario, and then waits for years to come after us? That doesn’t fly, Top.”
Bridger chewed at his lower lip. “Either he didn’t have the connections to track us until recently or…” He looked to Gregg. “Maybe he was waiting for us to become complacent?”
Gregg shrugs. “Whatever the reason for the delay, it sounds like he’s coming after us now.”
Mauk gave them a knowing look. “It’s been about twenty years. Maybe this sister had a kid…and now he’s large and in charge and ready to avenge mommy’s death?”
“Too many if’s,” Bridger growled. “But whoever it is, they mean business.”
Lisa stood and slung the Sig over her shoulder. “Let them come.”
7
Southeastern Oklahoma
Bobby Bridger dropped the duffel bags onto the floor of the cabin and cleared the adjacent rooms out of habit. He pulled the curtains on the few exterior windows and left a slight gap that he could scan the surroundings through. Going room to room, he unscrewed the light bulbs just enough that they couldn’t be turned on then settled in on the couch and began to strip and clean his weapons.
DJ had the first watch and would patrol between the cabins, making sure that he walked between the patches of snow, leaving a minimal footprint. With the setting sun, the temperature dropped significantly and Gregg donated a set of thermals and a parka.
DJ found a spot where the slight breeze was minimized and set up a nest. He had a clear sight of all of the cabins and noted that they all stayed dark once the sun set. He knew the team members and understood their thinking. By keeping to the dark, their eyes were fully adjusted to the moonlight outside and there was no need for night vision or infra-red goggles.
DJ blew warm breath into his mittens and rubbed his hands together to generate as much heat as possible. He cringed at the tiny puff of steam that rose from his face when he did it, but he’d lost all sensation in his fingers and knew that if trouble came that night, he’d need full use of his hands.
He heard the slight spark of static in his earbud before Bridger’s voice whispered, “Woodpecker, sitrep.”
DJ clenched his jaw so that his teeth would stop chattering. “All clear, Top.”
He stared at the cabin that Bridger had claimed and knew that the man was standing watch along with him. The only difference was that he had the relative warmth of the small electric heater that hummed away in the corner of his living room.
DJ grinned to himself then keyed his coms. “If you’re gonna stay up, you could bring me some hot cocoa.”
“Yeah, that would be a negative, Pecker.”
DJ fought the urge to correct him. In his mind he was screaming, “WOODpecker.” He threw a one finger salute towards Bridger’s cabin instead.
He settled in and pulled the knit cap lower on his head. What was I thinking volunteering for the first watch? This cold is for the fucking birds.
He leaned back against a thick pine and instinctively turned his head to the side, straining his ears. He heard the low drone of a large engine through the trees. DJ craned his neck and stared through the timber, his eyes probing the shadows, searching for the source.
His hand slowly slipped to his coms and keyed them. “We have somebody approaching in a vehicle. No lights.”
Bridger felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and he gripped his carbine tighter, forcing his breathing to remain slow and steady. “You heard Woodpecker. Man your stations.”
Bridger knew as well as DJ that each member was standing by, waiting. Nobody would dare sleep, even if they could, with the potential threat hunting them. His eyes bounced between the cabins, noting the stillness.
He slowly worked his way to the front of the structure that faced the paved road and stared through the gap in the threadbare curtains. He caught movement through the trees and verified that whoever dared approach did so without their headlights.
“This has got to be them,” he muttered. Nobody else would dare attempt to navigate the twisting narrow roads in total darkness. He keyed his coms again, “Look alive, ladies.”
He held his breath to prevent fogging the thin, single-paned glass and watched as something dark slowly traveled up the road.
DJ’s voice came over the coms again. “No taillights. They either blacked out their transport or they’re coasting.”
Lisa’s
