Mercy and Mayhem: Men of Mercy Read online

  The only reason Reaper was on this flight was because of Merc.

  Merc, only on the team for a few years, had lost his memory after a blast overseas. No one on the team had known much about his past until Reaper showed up a few weeks ago. Turned out the two had been in the same unit before joining special operations, and Merc had vouched for Reaper. But that didn’t mean Mack trusted him as far as he could throw him. Not after what had been done to him.

  Hoyt Crowe stepped out from behind his older brother Jared’s shoulder and rapped his knuckles on the crate, drawing everyone’s attention to his scarred face. “We’re with you, Mack. We want that son-of-a-bitch dead just as badly as you do.” There was a round of nods and agreements from the rest of the team.

  “Yeah, let’s get this bird in the air so we can kill that motherfucker before he hurts anyone else,” said Ethan Slade, Mack’s number-one tech guy.

  There was no question that every single member of the team was gunning for Jack Mankel’s head.

  But Mack intended to be the one to pull the trigger. As commander of his team, he was responsible for his men’s lives—a precious and awe-inspiring duty he’d failed to uphold. He’d nearly lost his team twice because of Mankel. One of his men, Shane Carter, had been left behind on a disastrous raid to rescue Mr. J. before the traitor’s true nature came to light. Now Shane was dead.

  Killing Mankel would be one step toward redemption.

  “Listen up, it’s a four-hour flight over the Congo before we get to his compound outside of Tanzania. We’ll be cruising at 30,000 feet when we jump. Double-check your gear, and when you’re through checking your own, check the next guy’s. We can’t afford to lose anyone because the damn pull string broke, got it?”

  Mack waited for the round of agreement before continuing with his brief. “Here’s the satellite image of the location,” he said, removing it from his bag and slapping the photo on another crate. “I’ll let Hunter fill you in on the details.”

  Hunter leaned in and pointed to the bunker in the center of the aerial photograph. “We’ve got confirmed spotting of Jack Mankel at this residence, along with Caroline Cotter. Gonna go ahead and tell you that someone’s carrying her in each of the photographs.”

  What Hunter didn’t have to say was that Caroline was probably unconscious, which meant she’d either been tortured to the point she could no longer walk or Mankel was keeping her drugged. Either way, it was highly unlikely the girl would be walking out on her own two feet.

  Hunter continued, “Riser’s got the field kit on him. He’ll get her stable enough for carry out. It ain’t gonna be easy. On the north, east, and west sides of the bunker, there are thousand-foot straight drop-offs covered in slick vines and all kinds of critters you don’t want to hear about. Which means we will be inserting and evacuating from the south.”

  Hunter pointed at the large lake butted up to the north side of Mankel’s compound. Mack had never seen a setup better protected by natural barriers. Getting in there without being detected and shot would be a feat. Getting out without either being eaten alive by the piranhas in the lake or falling to their deaths from the sheer rock faces would be a miracle.

  But it was also their only shot at catching Mankel off guard and this team could damn well handle the challenge. Mack had faith in his men. They’d carry out this mission or die trying.

  “SWCC, Special Warfare Combat Crewmen, Team Bravo will insert here—” Hunter pointed at the far west shore of the lake, “—and meet us at extraction point A for carry out. From there we’ll travel a mile upriver and the Black Hawk team will be waiting to get us out of country.”

  Mack said, “Any questions?”

  “How many civilians are reported in the area?” Hoyt asked.

  Mack indicated the areas just to the west and north of J’s compound. “There are local tribes in these two areas, and intel reports they will attack on sight. We’ll have to be careful to avoid them. Other than that, the place is pretty much uninhabitable.”

  Which is part of the reason Task Force Scorpion had never directed their search in the area. Even if Mankel wanted to remain hidden, it was nearly impossible to survive for long periods of time in such an inhospitable environment, let alone set up a semi-permanent residence. He’d have to have twenty-four-hour surveillance and guards to protect his compound from the hostile tribes. Not to mention that the bordering Congo region was a breeding ground for murderous guerillas that hungered for wealth and weapons, something Mankel would have in abundance. And he’d need to have most of his supplies shipped in and out on a regular basis just to survive.

  Jack Mankel didn’t just survive anything. One of his weaknesses was his insistence on luxury befitting a man of his stature and power.

  But if he wanted to keep Caroline imprisoned, this was the place.

  “Have we gathered any intelligence on the internal portion of the compound?” Riser asked.

  Mack gave a nod to Reaper, casting the man a warning glance as he did so. “Reaper volunteered a detailed drawing of the compound, along with descriptions of all aboveground and subterranean levels.”

  Reaper took one small step forward and every man in the cabin quieted. The air pressure in the cargo hold shrunk in his presence. This was a man who was used to killing, and it was a skill in which he was proficient.

  Reaper unstrapped a long black cylinder from his backpack, took the cap off the end, and extracted a rolled piece of paper. He spread it out over the topographic map of the region. Mack gazed down at the surprisingly detailed drawing.

  “There are three levels in Mankel’s compound—two aboveground, visible to your satellites, and one belowground. We like to call it the maze. Mankel resides on the first story in the southeast corner. Second story is for guests, mainly the local warlords or random terrorist cells seeking him out to broker a deal.” Reaper’s large calloused hand shifted from the first floor plan to the second. “On the first level, there are only two entrances. One here—” Reaper pointed to the front, “—and here.” He indicated a rear opening.

  “Like I told you before, the entire compound is made of concrete and reinforced steel. Even the windows have automatic bulletproof shields that slide in place under Mankel’s command.”

  “Paranoid bastard,” Riser muttered.

  “Exactly how he’s survived so long. He’s surrounded by a three-man team at all times.” Reaper’s visage turned terrifying. “My teammates.”

  Mack got a little tingle down the back of his legs, like the hairs were all standing on end from an invisible electric current. The same feeling he always got when something wasn’t quite right. It was an instinct he’d learned not to question. Reaper’s brainwashed teammates were Mankel’s bodyguards, which meant they’d be directly in the line of their attack. The likelihood of them surviving the assault was slim to none. So why would Reaper help them possibly harm or kill his team?

  Mack studied the drawing more intently. Something about the last drawing, the one that supposedly showed the floor plan for the subterranean level, didn’t match with the other two. But what was it? For all intents and purposes the external elevations matched the first two floors to a T; there weren’t any areas that looked like they had been erased or altered.

  The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. The interior setup was way too simple for a hidden level that supposedly housed an entire special team of cold-blooded mercenaries and a holding cell to detain prisoners.

  Reaper’s hand slid over the paper, blocking the lower level from view. When Mack glanced up, Reaper was pinning him with the kind of stare that would make most grown men quake, but it just pissed Mack off. “I knew we couldn’t trust you.”

  Reaper shook his head slowly, but he did not lift his hand. “You can trust me. I’ll tell you everything you need to know. But only after you promise not to kill my team.”

  All eyes in the plane turned to Mack.

  Motherfucker.

  Mack’s blood turned from boiling to ice, the way it always did when someone threatened him and his team. Because that was exactly what Reaper was doing. There was no way in hell Mack could make that promise and keep it. “You know I can’t do that. If one of your men levels a weapon at one of mine, I’ll have to order my guy to take him out.”

  Reaper shook his head slowly. “Then I can’t help you. My duty is to my men first, yours second.”

  Mack glanced at Hunter, who stood catty corner to Reaper, and gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. If they had to restrain Reaper, it would definitely put a kink in their plans, but in this instance a kink was better than a death sentence. Hunter hadn’t even inched his foot in Reaper’s direction when Merc stepped between the two men, his giant body blocking them completely from each other’s line of sight. “Wait a minute. There’s got to be another solution. Reaper is obligated to protect his team, just like you, Mack.”

  Mack let his lip curl into the snarl that had been itching to break free from the moment he realized Reaper may have double-crossed them. “Exactly, which is why there’s no way in hell I’m letting this man walk into a trap, however heroic his intentions may be, if it results in your death. It’s not happening under my watch.”

  Tension coiled in the small space, spiraling so tightly that it risked taking every man down when it broke. Hunter shifted onto the balls of his feet, as did his brother Ranger, standing right next to him. It was a stance that would allow them to launch into an attack easily and quickly. With the exception of Merc, the rest of the team also shifted into attack mode—and so did Reaper.

  Merc lifted up his hands and begged, “What if we let Reaper go in first? I managed to break Reaper’s programming and convince him that Mankel was bad, so maybe he can convince his team of the same thing. There’s still
a chance we can come out of this with everyone alive.”

  “Merc, I understand you don’t want to lose this piece of the past you’ve just found, but if I let him go in first, and he warns his team about our approach. We might as well put our guns to our heads and pull the triggers.”

  Reaper straightened, his height reaching a full inch over Merc’s towering six-foot-five frame. “I swear on my own life I won’t betray you.”

  Mack immediately scoffed. “You couldn’t give a shit about your own life, just like I couldn’t give a shit about mine. If you want to have any chance of convincing me that’s true, you’ll swear it on your team’s lives.”

  Reaper’s blink was just as mechanical as everything else the man did. “I never bet on my men’s lives.”

  Mack leaned forward, splaying his palms flat on the cargo crates. “Then you’re not going on this mission.”

  A long pause followed Mack’s statement while Reaper deliberated his words. All Mack had to do was give the command, and whether Merc liked it or not, he’d allow the others to restrain Reaper. They all lived and died by the team.

  Seconds stretched out to a full minute, and Mack, impatient to get this show on the road, indicated for his men to move.

  They closed in on Reaper like a tightening net. To his credit, the man didn’t flinch.

  Merc stepped out of the way, unwilling to participate and unwilling to stop his brothers.

  “You win. I swear on my teammates’ lives I will not seek to betray you or turn them against you. My only purpose on this mission is to protect them and get them out of Mankel’s reach so I can save them before they self-destruct. You have my word.”

  Mack’s hand shot up and everyone stopped in their tracks. “And you recognize that if I sense any hint of a threat to my men, I’ll order the death of each and every person on your team.”

  Reaper nodded. “I do.”

  Mack waited a moment longer, turning over all the possibilities in his mind. With the plane still on the ground, all he had to do was cable tie the man’s hands behind his back and toss him out. It would be a quick and clean break. It might sever any hope of Merc finding out more about his past, but it would guarantee Reaper would not have the opportunity to betray them.

  It would also guarantee they would be going into the sublevel of Mankel’s compound completely blind, which would put his men at further risk of death and ambush.

  Mack shut his eyes and let his senses take over. His warning alarms didn’t sound. The hairs on the backs of his legs stayed down.

  His instincts never failed him.

  Mack opened his eyes and stared at Reaper. “You can come. I’ll do my best to ensure your team’s safety, but not at the expense of my own. Now, fill us in on the subterranean level. I want to know every entrance, every room, every man, woman, and child who works there.”

  2

  Captain Marley Mitchell clutched the satellite phone tighter, as if by pressing it harder against her ear she could somehow close the distance between her daughter, Maddie, and herself. “I love you, sweet pea, be good for Nana and Grandpa while I’m gone.”

  Maddie’s sweet, soft voice filtered through the phone. “Are you going to fight the bad guys again, Mommy?”

  As a captain in the Air Force with ten years of service under her belt, Marley had done her fair share of missions. She’d flown in and out of hot zones delivering supplies to troops in need and sometimes transporting the wounded when the Army’s helicopters weren’t enough. She’d seen death and hope, and every day she left her daughter at home, she did it out of love for her country.

  “No fighting this time, sweetheart, just transporting some men so they can fight the bad guys. I’ll be home before you know it.”

  Maddie giggled and the sound was music. “Don’t hurry too fast, Grandpa promised to make me chocolate milkshakes every night for my bedtime snack.”

  Marley chuckled in response, not the least bit surprised. Her father, the now-retired Colonel Mitchell, had once given new meaning to the word taskmaster. He’d set a routine for Marley as far back as she could remember—out of bed at five, bed made, room clean, breakfast, and the list went on. Not one single person in the Mitchell household had dared step out of line, but along with all that military precision her father had always maintained his compassion and loving kindness. Marley’s parents had supported her through every single challenge in her life, including when her husband had died in combat and left her alone with a two-year-old child.

  A child who had turned the stodgy colonel into an overgrown teddy bear. “Tell your grandpa he’s in trouble with your Mom when she gets home.”

  Maddie giggled and then clicked something on the phone. Her father’s voice came through from the background. “This child doesn’t get enough spoiling.”

  “Dad, spoiling is one thing, pumping her full of sugar right before bedtime is an entirely different matter.”

  “You’re starving my grandbaby aren’t you? She’s all but skin and bones,” the colonel teased, and Marley’s lips curled in response. If there was one thing her child was not, it was a picky eater. She consumed food like a vacuum, refueling the endless energy that kept her bouncing forward.

  “Okay, it’s your funeral. When she’s up at midnight wanting to play hide-and-seek, don’t come grumbling to me.”

  “Maddie, you’d never do that to your dear old grandpa, now would you?”

  Maddie giggled again. “Can we play monster hide-and-seek in the dark, Grandpa?”

  Marley knew what her father’s answer would be before he’d even opened his mouth. Of course he would play monster hide-and-seek with his one and only granddaughter. Maddie had wrapped an invisible chain around his neck, and every time she tugged, Grandpa followed.

  “If you want to, cuddlebug.”

  Maddie squealed and Marley yanked the phone away from her ear, but it was too late for her eardrum, which was now ringing loud enough to drown out the constant chirp of insects from the jungle surrounding her.

  She stood at the nose of her C-130, ignoring the insane heat beating down from the sun overhead in the small carved-out airport they were about to take off from. The special forces team had already loaded, and her copilot was in the cockpit doing the first round of checks by himself. Marley let out a long sigh and held the phone back up to her ear. “All right, sweet pea, Mom has to go for now. I’ll call you as soon as I get back from my flight, okay?”

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  Marley’s heart clenched like it always did when she was talking to her daughter from anywhere but home. More and more, she longed to be home with Maddie. Each mission seemed to take a little bit longer than the last. She had another year left before her contract was up for reenlistment, and although Marley hadn’t talked to anyone else about it yet, she’d already decided she was getting out of the military and going back to civilian life.

  But as long as she was still in the Air Force flying soldiers, they deserved her full attention. She’d never given less than 100 percent to a single thing and she didn’t intend to start now in the homeward stretch of her military career.

  There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, and then her father’s voice came on, louder this time, signaling he’d taken her off speakerphone. “What’s the mission?”

  “Transport only, Dad. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  He scoffed, “As if I wouldn’t worry about my daughter.”

  “Just like your daughter used to worry about you when you went on missions.” Even though her father had been gone a lot, and Marley had worried endlessly in his absence, the colonel had always come back home safe and sound and usually with some type of souvenir.

  “Fair enough. Have any idea when you’ll be stateside?”

  “Ten days. I have a two-day turnaround here, a few more small flights when I get back to base, and then we’ll fly out to the States.”

  “All right.” Her father’s voice changed from soft and loving to pinpoint precise. “Do your double-check. Make sure you go back over the weather and the best alternate routes in your flight path. Don’t know where you are, but anything unaccounted for … “

  “Is another opportunity for risk,” Marley finished for him.