Page 56 of Defiant Hearts

She smiled at that, but it faded fast once her gaze tracked over the gear strapped across his chest and the rifle slung over one shoulder.

Her lips compressed. “What’s going on?” The breeze nearly swallowed her reed-thin voice.

He adopted the tone he used when he talked people out of dangerous places. “We’ve got a situation. I’ll be back soon.”

“Wyatt—”

He cupped her cheek. “I’ll be back.” He held her gaze until some of the fear in her eyes turned into a look closer to trust.

She went on tiptoe and kissed him—quick and fierce—gripping his shoulders as if she could keep him with her by sheer iron will.

“Find me when you get back,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Count on it.” He forced himself to walk away before he could change his mind about it.

They rode to the helipad at the BHTTF and boarded the chopper. During the flight Denver briefed them on the plan and the atmosphere felt charged as everyone ran through it in their heads.

They set down a half mile from the safehouse where the widow was hidden, just in time for the last of the daylight. From there, they moved in on foot.

Darkness worked in their favor, with no moon to speak of and cloud cover thick enough to swallow most light—the kind of black that made a man’s own hand hard to see in front of his face.

Wyatt crouched low behind cover with the rest of the team, breathing slow and even the way he was trained to do, waiting for movement that didn’t come.

Then it did.

Headlights cut through the tree line a quarter mile off. Denver, at the front of the line, held up a hand to indicate that multiple vehicles—three in total—were on the move. Talon Group had arrived.

Wyatt’s muscles coiled in readiness, and he peered through the black branches of their cover, watching the convoy roll to a stop near the perimeter.

Denver’s order filled his ear through the comms.

Planned down to the second, smoke bombs went off first, hurled by Gray. Gunfire sounded almost instantly after in controlled bursts as Black Heart’s team worked in pairs.

Wyatt followed orders to the T, firing at the movement through the smoke.

The whole op felt like it took hours when realistically it was over in minutes.

Once Denver gave the all-clear and they waited for the smoke to fade, they moved in, weapons still raised and the eerie quiet of the last of the gunfire ringing in their ears.

“Rhodes, give us a count.”

He rushed through the yard, counting mercenaries down or taken prisoner, zip-tied on the ground.

“Seven,” he returned to Denver.

“They didn’t send them all. Talon Group has a head count of fifteen.”

“Widow’s secure,” Colt’s voice filled their ears.

Wyatt’s chest loosened at the news she was safe. But as they moved through the aftermath, checking each man’s face against the file photos they’d been given, one name was unmistakably absent.

Lance Dillard wasn’t among them.

“He wasn’t part of this crew,” Denver confirmed, crouching over one of the glaring zip-tied mercenaries.

That meant Whitley’s ex was still out there somewhere. Knowing how desperate he was to find her, chasing her from all the places she’d tried to hide, he could be planning the next strike against her.

They called in the authorities to handle the mercenaries, and after they were dealt with, the team walked back to the chopper. Nobody spoke much as a different weight settled over them all.