Carol Ericson - Trap, Secure

Small footsteps galloped up the stairs amid yells and screams. Nicky and Angelina burst into the room, sobbing and screaming. “Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Randi!”

“Get back! Leave!” Randi thrust out her hands, even though the kids seemed miles away from her.

Montaña growled and charged toward Randi, pointing his gun in the general direction of her head. Both of the children attacked his legs, and Nicky lunged forward to grab his arm just as he was squeezing off a shot.

Red-hot pain seared Randi’s left arm and she toppled backward. The railing cracked beneath her. The children screamed. Randi threw out her arms. They whirred like the blades of a helicopter as she fought to keep her balance.

She lost.

Chapter Two

Gage Booker rappelled down the high wall that surrounded the compound deep in the jungle of Colombia. Ahead of him, members of the Army Special Forces team hit the ground and fanned out onto the property. They’d already taken out the guards stationed at the outer wall, but the international arms dealer, Nico Zendaris, would have additional security guarding the lush grounds and ostentatious mansion.

Gage’s boots met the ground, sinking into the verdant growth that extended to the manicured lawn ringing the house. Before making his way through the underbrush toward the house in the wake of his support team, Gage stopped and sniffed the air. Jet fuel. In the middle of the jungle? His pulse quickened, and he crouched, peering through the bushes at the white mansion gleaming across the rolling lawn. His muscles tensed. His jaw ached.

Lights dotted the windows here and there, but no lights illuminated the outside of the house. A place like this would have security floodlights, sensors... The special team of Green Berets had to be circling the house by now. Where was the gunfire?

It had been too much to hope for that Zendaris would be on this property at the time of their raid, but Prospero had heard murmurings that he might be here. Although Gage would’ve liked a crack at Zendaris, especially after the hell he’d put his Prospero team members through, this particular mission didn’t depend on Zendaris’s presence.

It was enough that they’d finally located one of the elusive arms dealer’s residences. They didn’t even have a picture of him, at least not one without him in a disguise. Nobody knew what the real Nico Zendaris looked like. If Gage could gather photos from the house, they’d be one step closer to identifying him.

He hoped to gather more than just photos. He planned to search and infiltrate Zendaris’s computers, emails, safes, bank accounts. Their source had indicated Zendaris spent a lot of time at this residence. Surely he kept personal effects here. Even a phantom had to put down roots somewhere.

A shout rose from the lawn. Adrenaline pumped through Gage’s veins. He clutched his M4 carbine and crashed through the bushes.

Gripping his weapon in front of him, Gage charged onto the grass, its soggy blades squelching beneath his boots. The Green Berets had secured the perimeter of the house. Shadows moved across the windows, but the silence prevailed.

Captain Denny, the man in charge of the mission, strode from a set of double doors that opened onto a patio at the edge of the yard. “Booker?”

Gage lowered his weapon and puffed out a breath. The shout he’d heard before had been an all-clear signal.

He called back to the captain. “Over here.”

Captain Denny swore a blue streak as he marched across the patio. They met at the edge of the lawn, and Denny barked, “Put some light on this situation!”

From somewhere in the darkness, two powerful flashlights crossed beams, lighting up the patio. The light gleamed on the black stripes beneath the captain’s eyes, lighting his eyes on fire.

“They beat us to the punch, Booker. Except for those few pushovers on the outer wall, the place is deserted.”

Denny’s words landed with a sickening thud against Gage’s temples. They’d been double-crossed. He clenched his jaw against a flickering muscle. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” The captain jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Computers yanked out of walls, drawers dumped, closets ransacked and wall safes emptied.”

Gage swore and kicked at a lawn chair on the patio. It teetered on one leg for a second and then fell over. “Personal items?”

“Not much. Looks like this slimy SOB has eluded you again.”

Gage slung his weapon across his back. “I’m going in.”

The captain stepped aside and began shouting orders to his men. Not that he had many orders left to give. The Green Berets had successfully completed their mission—gain access to and secure the grounds and house. They’d done that.

It was Gage’s mission that had failed.

He entered the house through the double doors, his boots scuffing on the ceramic floor tiles. A sweeping staircase curved to the second floor and a tinkling chandelier hung from the cathedral ceiling. Paintings adorned the walls, objets d’art lined the shelves.

The weapons business must be good.

Trailing his hand along the built-in shelves, Gage scanned the items—no personal photos. He stepped over shards of glass on the floor—all that was left of the doors belonging to a mahogany case that had been cleared of most of its contents. Had pictures of Zendaris sans disguises once graced this cabinet?

He took a right turn into a cavernous dining room. The dining table reflected the image of a candelabrum centered on its gleaming surface. A vase of flowers nearby, the blooms fresh and buoyant, perfumed the air. Gage crossed the room and pushed through swinging doors to a kitchen, outfitted with enough accoutrements to please the most discerning chef. A kitchen table, tucked in a nook, overlooked the sprawling backyard.

The smell of grilled meat and garlic lingered in the air, and a half-empty wine bottle rested on the countertop. Someone had eaten a hearty meal tonight before abandoning ship.

He yanked open the Sub-Zero refrigerator—its shelves were stocked with enough food to feed a small army. Zendaris had probably employed a small army at this opulent abode.

Cursing, Gage slammed the door, rattling the contents of the fridge. By the look of things, Zendaris himself could’ve been in residence only hours before the raid.

He’d have to question the locals, but he knew he would hit a dead end there. The local inhabitants generally knew to keep their mouths shut when dealing with powerful neighbors like Zendaris. The man probably had a few of them in his employ—his eyes and ears in his absence.

And Zendaris’s absence from this location would be permanent now that it had been compromised.

Tomlinson, one of the Green Berets still occupying the house, called to him from the stairs. “Booker, you down there?”

Gage hit one of the swinging doors with the heel of his hand. “In the kitchen.”

“You need to see what’s on the second floor.”

Gage’s heart jumped. Had Zendaris left something behind? He sped through the dining room and took the stairs two at a time, his heavy boots pounding against the tiles, creating an echo in the empty house.

Tomlinson stood by a doorway and beckoned to him. Gage stumbled into the room and almost tripped over a low table scattered with picture books. “Son of a...”

Gage circled the room, the bright, cheery colors and patterned wallpaper of cartoon characters making him dizzy. “Zendaris had kids, and they stayed here, lived here.”

A sour lump rose from his gut. At least the kids hadn’t been in the line of fire. If the Green Berets had met resistance entering the house, they would’ve shot first and asked questions later.

No matter what their father had done, kids were innocents. He knew that better than anyone. He and his sister couldn’t be held accountable for the stunts their father the politician had pulled over the years.