Page 56 of The Soldier and the Cowboy

“It’s good.” It hadn’t taken long to break Corrie, and then he sang like a little bird, giving her names, locations, and details on what was in the house and who was in charge. He had told her the name Rodriguez before Sully did.

“First team, who wants to take point?” she asked. The military was a special breed in that, when asked which of them wanted to shoot a gun while running toward a heavily armed compound, there could often be a squabble about who got to do it.

“I’ll go,” Cam volunteered. “I never get to do the fun stuff anymore. Do you want to call it?”

“It’s your ball, Lieutenant,” Bailey said.

He stood. “Maggie is so not going to like this,” he said before holding his gun aloft and taking off at a sprint toward the house. When he was close enough to be heard but still too far away to inflict casualties, he began to spray the ground around the house with bullets.

There was an almost comic scrambling from inside the house as men dove for guns and ammo before running outside to give chase.

“Frog, we’re up,” Bailey said. “Second team, looks like your target is clear.” She and Frog jumped into the fray, diverting the gunfire in two separate directions to keep things chaotic.The cartel had no idea where or who they were shooting, nor which direction it was coming from. It was almost like a child’s game of tag except with heavy-duty automatic weaponry.

It was supposed to be random; the darkness should have provided cover. But the moon slipped from behind a cloud and Bailey caught a glimpse of Rodriguez. He was their secondary target, and she couldn’t help but give chase. Her legs pumped hard with the effort it took to keep up with him. He was large, in good shape, and she was weighted down by pounds of armor, weaponry, and ammo. There came a point when she thought she had the drop on him, but he turned at the last moment, his gun pointed directly at her face. Bailey’s gun was in his face, too, and they stood still, taking stock of each other from three feet apart.

“Question,” she said. “If you have a Mexican standoff in Mexico, is it just a standoff?”

He didn’t answer. She tsk’d. “No sense of humor? Prison’s not going to go well for you.”

“I’m not going to prison,” he said.

“Are you asking me to kill you? Because I will,” she promised.

“How about I kill you instead?” he said, smiling.

“You’re taking an awfully big chance you’re faster on the trigger than I am. You piddle with that little gun and probably do okay, but I’m a marine marksman. I guarantee if I go, you’re going with me,” she said. “And my friends are just about done and will be along any minute.”

“So will mine,” he said.

She shook her head. “You hear that? That silence? The shooting stopped because it’s over. We flushed you out to round you up.”

His gaze flickered, but he also tightened his grip on the gun.

“I have a good idea, one I think we’ll find mutually agreeable. I have a suggestion for how we can both lower our weapons without taking a shot,” she said. “Here’s what we do. I am slowly going to take a step about a foot to the right, and then I’m going to lower my gun. I highly suggest you do the same.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“It’s the honorable thing to do,” she said, easing slightly to her right as she had said. She lowered her gun. He grinned and braced his feet to take his shot, but before he could pull the trigger his right shoulder exploded with a bullet from Maggie’s gun. He screamed, his gun clattering uselessly to the ground. Bailey picked it up. “On your knees,” she commanded. He sank to his knees, more than likely because he was in too much pain to support himself than because he was being compliant, a fact demonstrated when he lunged for her legs, intending to take her down. Instead she kicked his wounded shoulder, hard, and aimed her gun at his head.

“Give me a reason,” she said. And then she realized she already had a reason. She remembered Cal’s scream the night he found Isabel. He would have to live with the pain of that moment for the rest of his life, all because the animal before her hacked a woman to death and presented her to her husband as a prize. She could end this now. She could save everyone time, effort, and money by getting rid of the piece of human waste before her.

“Bailey,” Cam called, but not until he yelled, “Major Dunbar,” did she snap to attention and lower her weapon.

“This is not over. You think it ends with me? It doesn’t,” Rodriguez hissed through teeth gritted with pain.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bailey said. “Ethan, how are we doing on the clock?”

Ethan checked his watch. “Let’s see here. 5, 4, 3, cover your ears now.” They covered their ears as the house a couple hundred yards away exploded, completely wiped off the map in a spray of fine powder.

“Oh, uh-oh. Was that your house?” Bailey taunted the man on the ground. “The one where you had all your drugs and guns and money? Oopsie. Well, no matter. The good news is I’ve dealt with your suppliers in Afghanistan, and they’re really sweet and understanding. I’m sure if you simply explain…Oh, wait a minute, no. They’re going to kill you. Bummer.”

Cam moved closer and inspected the man’s shoulder. “Maggie do that?”

“Your girl can shoot,” Bailey said. She turned over her shoulder and mouthed Maggie a “thank you” with a little wave. In response, Maggie flickered a light. She turned back to the SEAL team and their prisoners. “If you men would take this refuse back to the truck, I’ll join you in a minute. I have one more little thing to do.” She grasped Rodriguez by the hair, pulled his head back, and used her phone to snap a photo. Then she pulled out a handheld device and printed the photo.

When that was done, she ran down the road and tapped on a door. Estralita answered, looking petrified. “It’s Bailey,” she said in Spanish, in case the older woman was too scared to summon her impressive translation skills. “Can I talk to your grandson?”

Estralita yelled for Hector, her grandson. He appeared, looking as scared and uncertain as his grandmother had. Bailey handed him the picture. “I want you to show this to everyone you see tomorrow and pass along a message for me. Tell them if the cartels pass over Senor Ridge’s land again we’ll come for them, and I’ll personally do worse than I did to Rodriguez. Can you do that for me?” He was a reliable, chattyboy of fourteen who would have no trouble relating the night’s tale to everyone he encountered.

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