Page 4 of Dangerous Mission
The dread almost chokes me as an uncomfortable tingle spreads across my skin. Shifting in the driver’s seat, I tug at my shirt and adjust my cargo pants as I scan the dark watery road in front of me.
Someone would probably think I have fire ants in my clothes. Not far from it.
Of all the damned cave rescue groups in the world, it would be Griffon Kane’s.
Fucking hell.
I swing the truck through a turn, making water push away from the tires in a slow wave that rushes toward theditch. Serious as shit, this gets any worse and we’re going to be using the snorkel this thing is equipped with.
Too bad it can’t save me from drowning in my own personal mental hell.
Finally, the airport comes into sight.
But, what the fuck am I seeing?
A light is shooting upward in the air. Slicing through the sheets of rain, it disappears in the low clouds. That part’s clear—the beam is coming from an upside-down plane.
But the men swarming around the plane with guns…
That’s where shit gets crazy.
I don’t know how long ago the Cessna carrying Griff’s team crashed into the grass next to the runway. Or exactly how it got there, but it’s pretty obvious this storm is a motherfucker.
I also don’t know if anyone is alive in the wreckage, but I know the sight of the kind of rebels that terrorize Vandemora when I see them.
Gunning the engine, I ram the nose of my truck through the fence surrounding the airport’s runway. The chain link scrapes the sides of the truck with a wail as it rips apart.
My headlights flash across the plane wreck as the truck bounces.
Heads whip my way.
That’s right. Big dog’s coming to the party.
Two of the four men jump in a small white truck and take off, swerving wildly across the wet grass, gunning for the open gate by the terminal.
Another man reaches into the plane and drags something out.
His buddy is waving wildly as I pin the gas pedal, heading right for them.
That’s when I realize what he has isn’t a bag of Griff’s gear.
He’s got a woman.
A young woman.
Bucking like an animal, she flails in his arms. Kicks wildly at his head.
I don’t know how the guy is hanging on, but the bastard drags her away from the plane, toward the open passenger door of the waiting truck.
My vision narrows. My blood surges forcefully. The cold taste of adrenaline scores across my tongue.
I growl and tighten my hands on the wheel. “You just fucked with the wrong people, buddy.”
I don’t even slow down. I ram the truck, knowing it won’t hit the man that’s dragging the woman. Or the woman. Not that I give a flying fuck about the attacker, but with the truck out of the way, I’ve got room to work.
The sound of the collision is like a bomb. The impact jolts me hard enough to make me grunt.
Their truck will have gotten the worst of the hit thanks to the burly brush guard Agile’s trucks have on the front.