Gunfire erupted all around him as his men laid down heavy cover fire. Was it the bullets that kept the enemy from repelling through the breach? And was it just Brandt, or was the enemy not firing back? Had the Disciples not expected them to be armed? Whatever the reason, Brandt meant to take full advantage of it.
Brandt whispered in Rebecca's ear. "On the count of three."
She only nodded. He didn't need to tell her what they were going to do. Rebecca reached a hand out and grasped Bunny's. On three, they were getting the hell out of here. Backing themselves toward the other men and their cover fire. From there, they would find a place to make a stand.
But first they had to get to three.
"One," he whispered when a sharp piece of debris hit him in the back. That fucking hurt.
"Two," Brandt slurred as his body slumped against Rebecca's. Hand flailing, he found the source of the problem. A dart. A tranquilizing dart.
What the fuck?
As the world spun and compressed down around him, he never did make it to three.
"Sarge!" Davidson yelled, but Brandt didn't answer as Rebecca crawled out from under her groom. She checked his pulse and gave a thumbs-up. So Brandt was still alive, but why the hell had he collapsed?
They were only five seconds into the firefight, and already, things were going sideways.
"Cover me!" Davidson shouted. Before he could even make it a step closer, a harness dropped down from the breach in the roof.
A blow horn announced from above, "He has sixty seconds to live. Get him in that harness or he dies."
Davidson glanced over his shoulder to Lopez, who technically was in charge. However, even the corporal looked to Rebecca. She clung to Brandt. Her beautiful white dress now streaked in soot.
Davidson rushed to her side, but all Rebecca could do was shake her head. He felt Brandt's pulse. It seemed to be weakening. The church had fallen eerily quiet as the parishioners fled into the street, taking their screams with them. Far away, the distant sound of police sirens wailed. But they would never get here in time.
None of them could do anything for Brandt in time. Except for the enemy.
"They want him alive," Davidson said to her, not knowing what else to say. They simply didn't have time for anything else. "We've got to trust in that."
Rebecca raised her face as black mascara tear tracks etched her features. "Give me the harness."
Quickly, they hooked Brandt into the apparatus. Once done, Davidson tugged on the rope. Immediately, Brandt's unconscious body was pulled off the ground. Rebecca hurled herself forward, catching Brandt. Davidson feared he was going to have to pull her off of him, but she kissed the sergeant hard on the lips.
"We are right behind you," she whispered, then let Brandt go.
The unconscious sergeant sped upward as the Disciples wasted no time claiming their prize. The helicopter hovering over the church banked away the second Brandt was loaded into the chopper.
Davidson spun to the other men to find out their next orders, only to find Lopez gone.
"Where'd he go?"
Talli shrugged. "Where do you think?"
With a tight smile, Davidson turned back to Rebecca just in time to catch her as she slumped to her knees.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
Shaking her head, Rebecca wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Why Brandt?"
"I don't know."
"Why not me?" she asked, choking back a sob.
Davidson pulled her into his arms, having absolutely no idea of how to comfort her. "I don't know, Rebecca...I don't know."
Brandt jerked his eyes open, then wished he hadn't. The world swam in a sea of reds and oranges. Whatever the fuck they had given him as an antidote, he swore he could see the blood vessels in the back of his eyes. That couldn't be good.
Despite the terror that spiked in his veins, Brandt couldn't move. Not his arms or his legs. Nothing. Even his eyelids were beginning to drift down. It took every effort to keep them open.
A man with a shaved head lowered himself to the floor of the helicopter. His face pierced with steel and his skin riddled with tattoos. One especially prominent. The Star of David with a rod through the center. The sign of the Disciples of Moshe.
Fuckers.
"Where is she?" he asked almost reverently.
What she?
Last Brandt had seen, Rebecca and Bunny were still in the church. Did these ass-bites screw up? Leaving the woman they wanted and taking him instead? But the Disciples were anything but stupid. The capture had been expertly done.
Then what she?
"Do not worry," the man said. "You will tell us."
Brandt wanted to punch or kick at the guy-hell, he'd settle for biting him-but his muscles wouldn't cooperate. It was like his whole body had been injected with Botox. Not a great feeling. Worse, it was keeping him from doing the one task he really needed to get done.
He tried to get his tongue to work, but there was no way he could even form a curse let alone pop the false crown off his tooth. Nope. He was going to have to get the Disciples to do it for him.
Brandt was going to have to count on their cruelty.
Summoning up every ounce of energy he had left, Brandt spit in the man's face.
For a moment, rage contorted the inked markings, but then his captor's face smoothed back into the mask.
"You cannot bait me. I walk the righteous path."
Really? Brandt got the one Disciple slow to anger?
The man rose and sat back down, his eyes closing in what looked like prayer. Seriously, a guy couldn't get kicked in the face around a Disciple?
Then one of the mercenaries hauled back a leg and kicked Brandt square in the jaw.
Finally.
His molars slammed together so hard that the crown cracked in two. Brandt could feel his gum bleed, but that was of little consequence. His tracker was now primed. The only problem? He needed to activate the damned thing.
The guys in R&D really needed to take field conditions into consideration. Brandt wasn't complaining-fine, maybe he was-but they needed to seriously factor in curare poisoning into the equation.
Gathering the blood into his mouth, Brandt spit again, this time at the mercenaries' feet.
The merc reared back, kicking Brandt right in Brandt's solar plexus. His mind careened from the pain and lack of oxygen, but damn if his jaw didn't clamp down.
Vision blackening, Brandt could only hope that it was enough.
As Davidson released her, Rebecca imagined what Brandt would be doing right now if it were she who had been the one kidnapped. Well, besides saying, "Christ, stop crying," because that was not going to happen any time soon. Her groom had just been kidnapped. She deserved a few tears.
His next admonishment would be to stop feeling sorry for herself-again, not going to happen-so instead, she did the next best thing and took stock of her assets.
Right now, standing in front of a demolished altar, she couldn't think of any. Her groom was in the hands of the Disciples, the extreme religious organization who had nearly succeeded in killing them all earlier in the year.
Except, unlike most disappointed brides, she did have a crack Special Forces team on her side. She sniffled, pulling back in the tears. They also had a getaway driver equal to none other. These brave men hunted where others feared to tread. They had the skills. They just needed something to give them the speed.
And if the kidnappers were in fact the Disciples, they were going to have to move quickly. Because Brandt had to be alive. The religious fanatics had staged this kidnapping down to the smallest detail. They wanted Brandt for something. Even as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she couldn't think of why.
It had been she and Bunny who had decoded the tablets that held the Ten Commandments and so much more. Why hadn't the bastards taken either of them? Sure, the Disciples would want Brandt dead for the major blow he'd delivered them, but alive? His abduction made absolutely no sense.
Those thoughts could wait as the skies darkened above her.
A helicopter. Not the one with Brandt, but a helicopter nonetheless.
Davidson raised his gun, but Rebecca shoved the barrel down.
"It's Lopez."
The corporal must have tracked down the helicopter that had dropped the men off at the church in the first place. Or he stole one. Or a little elf delivered it to him. With Lopez, you were just never certain.
Ropes being flung out the sides confirmed her suspicion, though.
Lopez had gotten them the speed. Now they just needed to take advantage of it.
As sirens sped toward them, Rebecca gathered her skirt. Davidson put a hand up.
"I'm going," Rebecca stated, daring him with her look to argue. Nothing could stop her from getting on that helicopter.
"Duh," Davidson answered. "I'm helping you attach to the line."
"Oh," Rebecca demurred and accepted his help.
After he got the bride situated, he turned to Bunny, but she backed away.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her red curls loosening from the pins that tried to keep them contained. "I can't. I just can't."
The other men secured their lines and zipped up toward the chopper. Davidson took Bunny's hand.
"It's all good," Davidson said, cupping her face in his scarred palm. "I'm glad you are staying."
Bunny cocked her head. "Don't lie."
She was right. His protective instincts should be taking over, wanting to keep her safe, but he couldn't help himself. He was going to miss her.
"No one is going to blame you for staying behind."
Snuffling back a tear, Bunny put her hand over his. "Like I said, don't lie."
Again, Bunny was correct. There was going to be some judgment about her bailing, but if Bunny's heart wasn't in it, there was no getting around that fact.
As police officers burst into the back of the church, Davidson kissed her gently on the lips. It was amazing how well the body could heal if given the right incentive. A few months ago, Davidson couldn't feel the entire right side of his face.
Now? He enjoyed every moment of their PDA.
He didn't want to break off the kiss, but they did have an audience. "They are going to want some answers."
Bunny gave him a peck on the cheek. "Which I can't give them. Don't worry," she said, shooing him away. "Go."
Davidson grabbed ahold of the rope, wrapping it around his good wrist as the zip line jerked him upward. He watched his peach-colored girl as long as he could. She rushed forward, informing the cops that the men fleeing were not terrorists. Just as Lopez angled the helicopter away, Bunny looked up.
A sad smile on her face.
He would have smiled back if he hadn't nearly been impaled on the huge cross that topped the church. The other men helped haul him up into the chopper as Lopez really lay on the throttle.
"Took you long enough," Lopez grumbled.
Davidson ignored him and prepped his rifle. "Any luck?"
Lopez nodded. "Got a ping hauling ass north by northwest."
"Wait," Rebecca said over the roar of the rotors, "you mean we've got a location on Brandt?"
"Had," Lopez corrected. "The ping was a few minutes ago."
Rebecca looked from Lopez to Davidson. "What does that mean?"
Davidson encouraged Rebecca to sit down and strap in. "After our last mission, we all got fitted with intra-dental tracking devices."
"That's good," Rebecca said, pushing her veil to the side. "That's great, right? We can find him."
He glanced to Lopez, though. It would be great if the signal were continuous.
"Only, we haven't gotten anything since that original ping," Lopez stated.