out of the way as the force converged. But the detail was too far away. Maybe they had a shot. But she knew without a doubt the minute they opened fire, she’d be dead. Rotten Tooth wasn’t letting her escape. One way or another, he’d have her. “Wiley,” she said, but her throat closed before she could say more.
He gave her a nod, his anger tightening his features and the tendons in his neck.
She pushed back her hair from her face and turned toward the man who held out his hand. She reached, letting him pull her up onto the ski, and although she hated touching her kidnapper, she gripped the sides of his waist as he twisted the gear handle. The rumble of the engine built, and the ski pulled away. Unable to stop the shudders that settled deep inside, she glanced over her shoulder, watching as Wiley and the men fanned out at the edge of the water grew smaller and smaller.
The moment the jet skis peeled away, Wiley sliced through the water toward the beach. How the hell had that happened? They’d had men in a boat anchored half a mile off shore with radar to monitor traffic. “Jet Ski Assassinations” had been known to occur on the Mexican west coast in Acapulco. They’d planned for this contingency.
When his toes touched the sand, he ran through the water to reach Mike who was already on the radio, shouting, “Get that helo in the air. And what the hell happened to that fucking boat?”
Wiley bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart, which hadn’t stopped thudding double-time in his chest—as close to panic as he’d ever been. Who the fuck had Poppy, and where were they taking her?
God dammit, he should have put a stop to this exposure. Never let her step foot off the fucking boat. This was his fault. If anything happened… Wiley shuddered. He straightened and waited for Mike to end his conversation.
Mike lowered his radio. “Helo’s already riding the coastline. We have eyes in the air.”
“Federales? Mexican police?”
“Already called, but they’ll be too late.”
“Fucking convenient.”
“The kidnappers used an M-72 Law on the boat. We’re scooping up the men who were aboard.”
Not exactly the latest technology, but still good enough to take out a boat. Or a tank. Vehicles pulled up to the parking lot adjacent to the beach. Wiley turned to the Joe and his friends. “Make sure everyone’s off the beach and back on that conch train, heading to the boat.”
Joe nodded and reached out to pat the side of Wiley’s arm. “You go get your girl.” Then he and his friends hurried toward the parking lot where others were already herding passengers onto the train to take them back to the docking area.
After stopping only long enough to snap up his clothing and Poppy’s beach bag and sari, Wiley headed straight to the row of dark SUVs. Charter’s vehicles. He knew because Jax Keller, another ex-SEAL and Charter covert operative, stood, waving him over.
Wiley raced toward him and swung into the vehicle. Every operator they’d had watching the beach disappeared into the other SUVs. The Mexican police would have a hard time getting witness statements, but then again, who knew how many of the officers had foreknowledge of the kidnapping.
As they pulled away, Wiley began changing his clothes. “Charter notifying her father?” Of course they were, but he had to keep talking. To think out loud, or he’d go crazy.
“I’m sure he knew five minutes after it happened.” Mike gave him a quick sideways glance. “Your head in the game, Coyote?”
Wiley slammed his fist against the door. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Detail was solid, even had divers in the water in case the bastards tried to breach the beach. We had every avenue covered.”
“Obviously not,” Wiley said, giving him a blistering stare.
“This was a tight operation. Let’s just hope they took her for the ransom.”
Wiley prayed that was the case. This situation could be over inside a
He gave her a nod, his anger tightening his features and the tendons in his neck.
She pushed back her hair from her face and turned toward the man who held out his hand. She reached, letting him pull her up onto the ski, and although she hated touching her kidnapper, she gripped the sides of his waist as he twisted the gear handle. The rumble of the engine built, and the ski pulled away. Unable to stop the shudders that settled deep inside, she glanced over her shoulder, watching as Wiley and the men fanned out at the edge of the water grew smaller and smaller.
The moment the jet skis peeled away, Wiley sliced through the water toward the beach. How the hell had that happened? They’d had men in a boat anchored half a mile off shore with radar to monitor traffic. “Jet Ski Assassinations” had been known to occur on the Mexican west coast in Acapulco. They’d planned for this contingency.
When his toes touched the sand, he ran through the water to reach Mike who was already on the radio, shouting, “Get that helo in the air. And what the hell happened to that fucking boat?”
Wiley bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart, which hadn’t stopped thudding double-time in his chest—as close to panic as he’d ever been. Who the fuck had Poppy, and where were they taking her?
God dammit, he should have put a stop to this exposure. Never let her step foot off the fucking boat. This was his fault. If anything happened… Wiley shuddered. He straightened and waited for Mike to end his conversation.
Mike lowered his radio. “Helo’s already riding the coastline. We have eyes in the air.”
“Federales? Mexican police?”
“Already called, but they’ll be too late.”
“Fucking convenient.”
“The kidnappers used an M-72 Law on the boat. We’re scooping up the men who were aboard.”
Not exactly the latest technology, but still good enough to take out a boat. Or a tank. Vehicles pulled up to the parking lot adjacent to the beach. Wiley turned to the Joe and his friends. “Make sure everyone’s off the beach and back on that conch train, heading to the boat.”
Joe nodded and reached out to pat the side of Wiley’s arm. “You go get your girl.” Then he and his friends hurried toward the parking lot where others were already herding passengers onto the train to take them back to the docking area.
After stopping only long enough to snap up his clothing and Poppy’s beach bag and sari, Wiley headed straight to the row of dark SUVs. Charter’s vehicles. He knew because Jax Keller, another ex-SEAL and Charter covert operative, stood, waving him over.
Wiley raced toward him and swung into the vehicle. Every operator they’d had watching the beach disappeared into the other SUVs. The Mexican police would have a hard time getting witness statements, but then again, who knew how many of the officers had foreknowledge of the kidnapping.
As they pulled away, Wiley began changing his clothes. “Charter notifying her father?” Of course they were, but he had to keep talking. To think out loud, or he’d go crazy.
“I’m sure he knew five minutes after it happened.” Mike gave him a quick sideways glance. “Your head in the game, Coyote?”
Wiley slammed his fist against the door. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Detail was solid, even had divers in the water in case the bastards tried to breach the beach. We had every avenue covered.”
“Obviously not,” Wiley said, giving him a blistering stare.
“This was a tight operation. Let’s just hope they took her for the ransom.”
Wiley prayed that was the case. This situation could be over inside a
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