Laughlin appeared at her side and gave her a longing look. “You know, you make that MGD look good.”
She fought the urge to smile then tapped the mini fridge with her boot toe. He smiled at her then bent to get one. She took the opportunity to slap his ass then march to the weapons locker.
Laughlin banged his head standing up and felt his face flush as he watched her saunter off. “You’re gonna make me start thinking that you actually like me, Sparrow.”
She stuck her head out from the steel locker door and gave him a smirk. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Laughlin chuckled as he took a pull from the beer then twisted his face. “How old is this?” He searched the label for a date.
“At least a year,” Bridger grumbled as he reentered the room. “But it’s wet and it’s cold.” He dropped the duffel on the table and wiped at his forehead. “Tell me you’re set.”
Lisa pushed the locker door shut and clipped a fragmentation grenade to her vest. “We’re set.” She raised a brow at Laughlin then tossed him a grenade. “Please don’t blow us up.”
Matt scoffed as he searched his tactical vest for a place to attach it. “I’ve used these before, remember?” He pulled up the flap on a belt pouch and slid the grenade inside. “What do you figure our odds are?”
Lisa shrugged. “Fifty-fifty. Maybe.”
He gave her a flirting smile. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Bridger sighed and ran a hand through his close cropped hair. “I give us a thirty percent chance of surviving.”
Laughlin raised a brow and nodded. “That good?”
He shrugged. “If they realize that we’re down here and trapped, the smart thing to do would be to bury the exits and set a guard to make sure we didn’t dig our way out.”
Lisa crossed her arms and sighed. “And if they’re not smart?”
“Then our odds go up significantly. I’d pit any of our team against the best they have under these circumstances and still lay odds with us overcoming.”
DJ walked past the trio and fished two beers from the mini fridge, tossing one to Mauk. “So the odds are in our favor?”
“What odds?” Gregg asked as he entered the large underground room. He tossed his bag to the bench and looked longingly at the beer in Mauk’s hand. “Got a spare?”
Mauk shook his head. “Nope. Last one.”
DJ handed him the last cold beer then leaned on the workbench. “The tunnels are all good. The charges are set, the proximity alarm is active.” He took a swig of the beer and glanced at Bridger. “What now?”
“Now we make sure we have enough magazines loaded and prepare to meet the enemy.”
“Any particular strategy?” Laughlin asked.
Bridger nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get killed.”
Langley Virginia
Director Jameson listened to the Unit Commander’s voice over the speakerphone, his jaw clenching as the bad news hit home. “You’re certain?”
“Of course, I am, sir. We even looked through the windows. Nobody is there. All we found was the note duct taped to the primary entrance.”
Jameson growled low in his throat. “But you can’t be certain if Bridger left it or it was left for him?”
“Affirmative, sir. But in my estimation, if your man and this cartel leader are intent on locking horns, my money says to converge on that location and wait for both parties to show up.”
Jameson leaned forward and clicked on his computer. “Give me the coordinates again.”
The unit commander read the number off and Jameson tapped it in. He waited for the image to stabilize then zoomed in on a wooded patch of land in the middle of nowhere. “Hold on just a moment.” He switched screens and pulled up Bridger’s dossier. “Son of a…that’s Bridger’s old address. Sort of.” He turned back to the speakerphone. “You have a go, commander. Remember to stay out of sight. I can’t have Bridger knowing that you are there to assist.”
“Roger that, sir.” There was a brief pause and Jameson heard mumblings in the background. “Director, something was just brought to my attention.”
“What, commander?”
“Our aerial view indicated a convoy of POVs leaving from the county road facing the property just moments before we arrived. It could have been your man.”
“You didn’t run into them, did you?”
“Negative, sir. We approached the property from the rear. The convoy was all on the east side, facing the bunker’s structures.”
“Get to those coordinates, commander. Protect my asset!”
“Copy that, sir!”
Near Quitman, TX
“Señor,” Fernando nodded ahead, “I believe that is it.”
Mario sat forward in the rear seat and peered through the windshield. He saw a utility van and a brightly painted lowrider parked along a dirt driveway, their path blocked by logs.
He nodded slowly and patted Fernando’s shoulder. “This is it. I wouldn’t doubt that those vehicles are all that remains of the gangbangers that attempted to kill Bravo team.”
He opened the door and stepped out, the dry Texas dirt blowing across the toes of his highly polished jump boots. “Vamonos!” he waved the other vehicles forward and watched as men piled out.
The wiry fellow he had spoken with earlier stepped away from the others and tossed the small drone into the air. The little quadcopter made a loud buzzing sound as it circled the burnt and destroyed woods.
Mario approached him. “What do you see?”
“Four paths lead through the debris.” He worked the controls and lowered the small drone. “They all lead to specific spots and then disappear.” He glanced at Mario. “They are well worn paths.”
“Where do they end?”
The drone dropped from the sky then caught itself short of impacting the ground. “To these.” He zoomed in the camera, and thin steel doors appeared to cover concrete frames. “Whatever they are, they look reinforced.”
Mario chuckled. “He fancies himself a tunnel rat.” He charged his AK-47 then stepped away, addressing his men. “They’ve gone underground! We will go in after them and once we are certain they are dead, this can be their tomb!”
Fernando wiped his brow
