Page 122 of Dangerous Mission

“No!” I stumble back and scramble away. Panting, I scream, “Help!”

You fool, I chide myself. There is no help.

You’re in the middle of the Vandemoran jungle with a real live zombie chasing you.

Wet tree branches and gigantic tropical leaves slap my face and arms as I take off. The sound of his heavy breathing and stomping feet aren’t far behind.

Chapter Sixty

Why bother with the doorknob when I have a perfectly good foot? I kick the door in and stalk inside.

The house is still a church on Friday night, but I stride down the short hallways, hungry for blood.

“Rory!” I bellow.

But it’s not one of the Russians that appears in the open doorway. It’s my teammate, Truck. His weapon is in his hands and wearing his get-down-to-fucking business face.

“No one here,” I kick a boot that’s sitting by the couch. It flies across the living room, crashing into the wall.

He looks around, his nearly black, hawk-like eyes taking the whole scene in at once. “Marshall told me about Aria and you think it could be Rory. I thought the teams were working together, are you sure he’d?—”

I nearly plow over him. “Do you have a companytablet?”

“In the truck, in my duffel.”

Thank fuck. I’m out the door when he yells at me.

“You need the password.”

He rattles off eight digits and I leap into a blue Ford pick-up that was sitting in front of the house with the door ajar.

I almost collapse to my knees with relief when I get the machine in my hands. The small, armored tactical tablet boots up right away, has a full battery and connects instantly to his satellite router.

Thank you. Thank you and thank you.

Truck is a solid operator. Of course his shit would be charged and ready to go.

I hold my breath as the icon spins on our team’s tracking software. Just looking at the map brings a kind of deadly calm into my chaotic system. Those topo lines have been my anchor since I was a kid.

But the small compass rose icon that blinks on at the corner of the screen hits me like a lightning strike. I hope it’s an omen, because it’s just like the tiny tattoo Aria has behind her ear.

Truck jogs to the truck and climbs into the driver’s seat. “Someone was here recently. How many trucks does Vik’s team have?”

“Three black Expeditions, plus Vik’s Suburban. None are here as you can see.”

He taps his finger to his jaw as he considers this. “Then why would they take our team truck?”

“To slow us down?”

“We’ll find them and get your girl back.”

That hits me in the chest so hard, I fight to keep the sound of despair that tears through me locked inside me.

Finally, a blue dot flashes on the screen—Amen—and I zoom in with my stomach in my throat. “The truck is outside Karma, roughly 8 klicks.”

We’re moving fast just seconds later. As he tears down the driveway through the agave fields, he cuts a look at the tablet I’m clenching with white knuckles.

“Is it moving?”

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