Defending Everly (Mountain Mercenaries #5)(92)

But tonight—or rather, this morning—they needed all the physical help they could get. There were a ton of unknowns about the raid. They weren’t sure how many people were inside the target house. They knew nothing about the people living in the shanties around it . . . were they involved in the smuggling ring too? Were there guns involved? Were the boys even still there?

It was a clusterfuck, and Rex was livid that, after getting the initial intel, everything had suddenly changed, and no one apparently knew anything. The team was already in South America by that time and had decided, against Rex’s better judgment, to go ahead with the joint mission.

Black and Meat’s job was to guard the back of the shack. Make sure none of the bad guys escaped, and contain the raid to the one house.

Not knowing how the neighbors would react to the raid, the Mercenaries had crept into the area in the dead of night. It was three thirty in the morning, and they’d seen only the rare person up and about.

As was the plan, Gray and Ro made entry into the house by using a large rock to smash the hell out of the padlock with one swipe, and they burst into the room, Arrow and Ball at their backs. Chaos instantly reigned. Boys screamed. Men yelled. Shots rang out.

“Watch your six!” Arrow yelled through the radio headset they all wore.

“Get that kid!” Gray ordered as one of the children pushed open the back door and ran.

“I’ll get him!” Black said, leaving his post to chase after the child. The last thing any of them wanted was one of the kids running off to hide and being recaptured later.

“Left room, clear!” Ball stated.

“Shit, there are two women back here,” Arrow added.

“How old?” Ro barked.

“Teens. They look scared shitless,” Arrow said.

“Secure everyone,” Gray told the team. “Until we know who’s friend and who’s foe, everyone stays right here.”

Meat listened to the chaos through his radio and kept his eyes on the back door. Black had taken off after the boy who’d run, and he’d expected him to be back within seconds.

When that didn’t happen, Meat swore under his breath. He didn’t want to leave his post, but dammit, he also couldn’t leave Black on his own. Not in this neighborhood. Making a split-second decision, Meat keyed the mike on his radio and said, “Black took off after one of the kids who bolted. He’s not back yet. I’m headed after him.” Then he ran in the direction his teammate had disappeared. It sounded like the team had things under control in the house—as under control as they could be—and he’d hopefully only be gone for a second.

He ran the length of the alley and, when he got to the end, looked around.

He saw a small child, no more than probably six years old, pointing down another alley.

Meat didn’t even have time to wonder what in the hell a little girl was doing up and awake at this time of the morning. He was too grateful for the assistance to do more than nod at her.

He ran toward where the girl had pointed and started down the neighboring alley.

He saw Black immediately—fighting three men.

Meat rushed into the fight and took out the KA-BAR knife he always carried. Without remorse, he calmly slit the throat of the man who was doing his best to get ahold of Black’s pistol.

The man fell to the dirt with a thud, and Meat immediately turned to one of the others.

But before he could do more than punch the man in the kidney, they were suddenly surrounded by at least a dozen more.

“Fuck,” Black said.

Meat opened his mouth to inform the rest of the team where he and Black were, and the shit storm they’d found themselves in, when the men pounced. They didn’t have any conventional weapons, but the baseball bats, sticks, and rocks they did have were enough to do plenty of damage.

The men ripped the Mercenaries’ headsets off and trampled them under their feet. They kicked, punched, and beat Meat and Black until they lay motionless in the dirt. They stripped them of their weapons and shoes, even taking their tactical pants and shirts.

The entire attack had taken place in less than three minutes.

Meat groaned in pain and looked over at his friend. Black’s face was almost indistinguishable. Both eyes were swollen shut, his body was covered in bruises that were already forming, and he was bleeding from several cuts from his own knife.

Meat knew he wasn’t any better off. He could barely see and knew he had at least one broken rib, maybe more. His ankle was throbbing, and he recalled one of his attackers stomping on it in the melee.

As his consciousness wavered, Meat stared at the broken radio lying ten feet away. In the distance, he could hear shouts and crying coming from the next housing row over, but it might as well have been miles.

He tried to get to his hands and knees—he’d crawl over hot coals to get his buddy help if it came to that—but immediately fell practically on his face when pain shot through his shoulder. It was most definitely dislocated.

Feeling frustrated, Meat couldn’t help but think about Harlow. She would be completely heartbroken if anything happened to Black. They were madly in love, and Meat knew Black was planning the perfect proposal for when they got back home. Harlow and Black were made for each other, and loved each other with all they were, just as the rest of the Mercenaries loved their women.

He was the only one who was still single. If someone was going to die on a mission, it should be him. He had no one waiting for him. No one who loved him.