Page 10 of Torn in Half

There was no way in hell Devon or his brothers were leaving this hellhole without their mother. She still had a lot of living to do, along with spoiling the crap out of her grandkids. Whenever she called to say hello, Devon would put the phone to his son’s ear, and he was sure JD recognized his grandmother’s voice, because his face would light up and he’d start cooing to her. Devon swore the next time they did that, he was going to use his Go-Pro to record it. When his mother did leave this Earth in another twenty or thirty years, if Devon’s prayers that she lived a long time came true, he wanted lots of video and voice recordings of her so his and his brothers’ future children, Little Bit, and JD had plenty to remember her by. But, damn it, today was not the day Marie Sawyer was going to meet her maker.

About an hour, give or take a few minutes, after he’d led the women into the surgical building, de la Vega had returned to the main house. So, unless there was a secret tunnel, or someone had been in there longer than the Steel operatives had been keeping surveillance, there were only eight people in the smaller structure other than the two principals. They’d seen two women and a man go inside, who they suspected were nurses or medical assistants, as well as Xiao, his bodyguard, and three of de la Vega’s armed men. With any luck, the latter would come out to see what was going on when the pandemonium started and be taken down quickly. Xiao should be unconscious, leaving only his bodyguard and the surgical staff left to deal with.

“Bravo Team, you ready?” Ian asked over the comm system.

“Affirm,” was Marco’s reply.

“Omega Team?”

Foster’s voice sounded in Devon’s ear. “Ready.”

“Echo One & Two?”

Boomer and then Pierce confirmed they were also primed and waiting.

“Charlie Team?”

“Ready,” responded McCabe.

“Alpha Team is ready,” Ian announced. “Everyone else, wait for the gate crashers. Charlie, on my mark—three . . . two . . . one . . . go!”

From a quarter of a mile up the road the compound was on, the two white vans would be heading toward their target, like they were just out for a Sunday drive. A few moments passed before Devon could hear them approach and then accelerate. A split second before the first vehicle crashed into the wrought-iron gate, ripping it from its hinges and demolishing it, through their earpieces, they all heard, “Cowabunga!”

“Fucking Flynn,” a few team members muttered as the explosives blew and all hell broke loose.

“How’re his vitals?” Marie asked the Russian anesthetist, as she prepared to make a small incision on the inside of Wang’s right cheek. After changing into scrubs, she’d taken about twenty minutes to interview and examine her patient. Then, she’d scrutinized the x-rays, discussed the reconstruction options with him, and mapped out the changes she would make and where her incisions would be by using a surgical marker on his face. That had taken another forty minutes or so, and she was proud of herself for pretending this was any other day back at the hospital where she maintained her practicing privileges in Charlotte.

A few minutes into the physical exam, it’d become clear to her that, although he’d said he lacked formal medical training, Albano knew what he was talking about when it came to the procedures. To her surprise, he’d hung on her every word and had even made a few suggestions of his own. This wasn’t the first reconstruction he’d been involved in. However, as they’d prepared to start the surgery, instead of staying and watching as she’d thought he would, he’d disappeared, leaving Antonio and Wang’s bodyguard behind to make sure Marie didn’t do anything stupid.

She’d been instructed to change the shape of Wang’s jawline, cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The first three features required her to access the bones through incisions inside his mouth so she could shave and move the bones to alter their shape. The chin, forehead, and nostril area of the nose would get silicone injections. The final combination was not one she would choose for any of her patients, for aesthetic reasons, but it wasn’t her call. Even though she’d do her best, she honestly didn’t care what the bastard looked like when it was all over.

While injecting silicone under the skin sounded simple enough to most people, it called for a physician who knew what they were doing to avoid disfigurement or nerve damage. Also, it was a slow process to ensure the skin looked smooth and natural after the post-operative swelling went down. With that and the contouring of the facial bones, they could be here for up to seven or eight hours. Since no one was insisting she hurry up, it was obvious they knew what she was doing was quite tedious. Again, that was something in her and Jocelyn’s favor.

While Wang was asleep, he wasn’t completely unconscious, which would’ve required him to be intubated. But that was impracticable, since she needed access to the interior of his mouth for the jaw and cheeks. Instead, between the lidocaine injections she’d given him to numb his face and the sedation cocktail the anesthetist had administered, Wang was resting peacefully. While it might take a bit to rouse him without giving him another drug to counteract the first ones, he could still wake up on his own with enough non-pharmaceutical stimulation.

So far, Marie had completed working on her patient’s nose, shaving down the slight bump in his cartilage and injecting a small amount of silicone to alter the shape of the nostrils just a bit. Although Jocelyn’s hand had been shaking at the start of procedure, she’d quickly fallen into the familiar routine of assisting the surgeon. The other two nurses stood by and assisted efficiently enough when Marie asked them to. The unnamed bodyguard was also in the sterile surgical suite, wearing a mask and scrubs over his clothing, but he’d refused to coverup the holstered gun at his hip. Meanwhile Antonio had stayed in the pre-op room doing who knew what.

As she shifted to get the correct angle she needed, the floor shook under her feet, and Marie’s hands froze. The tremor didn’t last long, but it’d still been noticeable. And she wasn’t the only one who’d felt it because everyone else was glancing around, wide-eyed. Since there were no windows anywhere in the building, they couldn’t see outside, nor could they hear anything through the thick walls. The bodyguard’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped over to an intercom on the wall next to the door. Pushing a button, he asked, “What was that?”

Antonio’s voice came through the small white box. “Don’t know. Probably a small earthquake. We get them all the time.”

The bodyguard glared at Marie, with an evident frown despite his mask, then pushed the button again. “Confirm it.”

A bored sigh preceded one word. “Fine.”

The hair on the back of Marie’s neck became energized, sending a shiver down her spine. That hadn’t been any earthquake. She’d bet a million dollars that whatever had shaken the ground had been at the hands of Boomer, Trident’s explosive ordinance disposal technician. Her boys were here, but she had to keep working like nothing was wrong until they got into the building and took out the bodyguard, who’d moved closer to Jocelyn, his weapon now in hand.

Taking a deep breath, Marie tilted her head from side to side, working out a few kinks that’d settled in her neck. Wang was still sleeping, but every now and then his hand with the inserted IV catheter would twitch, letting her know he wasn’t completely under. Knowing she had to do something, otherwise the bodyguard would get suspicious—more than he already was—Marie made a small incision on the inside of Wang’s cheek. If, in fact, she’d been wrong, and that had been a minor earthquake, she’d keep praying and waiting. Her boys would be here soon.

Chapter Eleven

Stacked, one behind the other, a short distance from the C4 Boomer had set against the wall, Ian, Devon, Nick, and then Brody waited as a huge hole was punched through the stone barrier. A second after the explosion, Ian led the charge, bursting through the smoke into the compound. On the other side of the massive backyard, Foster was doing the same with the Omega Team. At first, there were no tangos in sight, but Ian knew that wouldn’t last for long. His legs quickly burned up the distance to the surgical building, keeping the sights of his AR-15 in line with where his gaze was directed.

From the front of the property, short bursts of gunfire resounded, but Ian trusted everyone on his teams were the ones who were still standing. Movement to his right had him swiveling in that direction, and he and Devon both fired their weapons after assessing the man with an assault rifle was a threat. The tango’s body danced unnaturally with the impacts, and his finger squeezed the trigger of his gun, sending bullets flying harmlessly into the earth. Ian didn’t pause, even for a split second, knowing the man wouldn’t be getting back up.

By the time he got to the target building, three more tangos in the backyard were dead with their weapons beside them—all taken out by the snipers in the trees. Foster and the Omega Team lined up on one side of the only door, while the Alpha Team fell to the other. Since the hinges were closer to Foster, and the door swung outward, that meant he would be opening it while Ian would be going in first. Devon would be right on his six. Mancini and Reese were facing the rest of the compound, covering everyone’s asses. Those who were going into the building, switched to the more accurate 9mm or 40 caliber pistols they were carrying. They needed the extra control in the close space to avoid shooting any innocent people.

Once everyone was ready, Nick took two steps out from the building and aimed his weapon, so if anyone was waiting for them on the other side of the door, he would have an immediate shot. Ian nodded to Foster who reached for the handle, but the door flew open before he had a chance to grab it. An armed man stormed out, and a startled expression flashed on his face. Evidently, he hadn’t expected to run into them. He had no time to raise the pistol in his hand as Nick fired one shot between his eyes, dropping him like a sack of sand.

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