Page 1 of Wrecked
1
THE RESCUE
The floor creaked as they rounded the corner in the three-story building. Nicholas Hawk held up his fist, and the five ALPHA Operatives behind him stopped. Their night-vision goggles gave the pitch-black hallway a grainy-greenish look, but without them, they’d have zero visibility.
He counted to five, but heard nothing beyond his steady breathing. Each precious second mattered, so he directed two Operatives to stay on the first floor, two to the second, and he and Danielle Fox would head up to the third.
Dressed in SWAT gear, the teams sprinted into action. Their primary goal? Find and rescue the lone prisoner. Their secondary? Get out of there alive.
They hoofed it up the stairs, the second-floor search team splitting off as he and Danielle continued climbing. She opened the fire door, he stepped into the quiet hallway.
“Clear,” he whispered, their comms also equipped with micro mics.
She joined him.
“Take the rooms on the right,” he commanded.
With a nod, she took off while he headed toward the first room on the left.
He turned the handle, opened the door. A body lay on the floor beneath a tattered blanket. With weapon in hand, he did a quick one-eighty, insuring he was alone, then approached the target and pulled back the blanket. It was a decoy, a mannequin, its face partially blown out, leaving a gaping hole.
He hurried on to the next room. No prisoner.
“Check in,” Hawk whispered.
“Nothing,” Danielle replied.
The Operatives on the first and second floors hadn’t found the hostage either.
Hawk pushed on.
In the third room, a woman was tied to a chair. Her face was covered in purplish bruises, her long, dark hair pulled into a mussed ponytail, hanging askew on her head. The gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking. Her shirt sleeves were shredded, her jeans ripped and torn. She was barefoot.
His blood ran cold in his veins.
Large eyes stared in his direction, but because the room was void of light, she couldn’t see him. She was trapped and hurt. But, he’d found her, and he’d get her out of there alive.
“Prisoner located,” Hawk whispered as he did another sweep of the room confirming they were alone.
He knelt in front of her, set down his weapon.
“I got you,” he said as he untied her gag.
He couldn’t miss the slight upturn of her lips. “About time,” she whispered.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Can you walk?”
“I need help.”
Using his switchblade, he sliced the ties binding her wrists and ankles, then helped her stand. As he was about to lift her over his shoulder, four men—dressed in black, their faces concealed behind ski masks—stormed the room.
Hawk grabbed his weapon and fired—POP! POP! POP! POP!—hitting all four in the chest. They dropped to the floor.
“We’re outta here,” he said to the prisoner.
