Gunner lined up targets and fired at them as fast as he could. As best as he could tell, he’d hit about a dozen by the time they broke out into the open and rushed the house.
He saw Spencer easing back toward the front gate, and he made out Drago backed up to the northern edge of the crawl space. Gunner waited until the groups reached the house and took up positions to shoot the hell out of it, and then radioed, “Go.”
Spencer and Drago took off running across the lawn while the bad guys opened fire on the house. The pair darted from tree to tree, using shadows for as much cover as possible. The moon had already set and it was pretty damned dark out here, which also worked to Spencer and Drago’s advantage.
But neither man had made it to the north ridge by the time the fusillade of shooting stopped and one of the groups of hostiles swarmed into the house like so many infuriated fire ants.
“Hurry,” Gunner muttered.
Spencer and Drago sprinted the last few yards and dove for cover.
“Clear,” Spencer reported.
“Clear,” Drago bit out.
“Chas and Poppy are on the trail. I’ll meet you there.”
“Take them up to the hide. We’ll hold the line here as long as we can,” Spencer ordered.
“Roger,” Gunner replied.
He slogged back through the thick undergrowth to Chas and Poppy’s position. They were gone. Good man. Chas had done as ordered and headed up to the fallback position. Gunner raced up the trail, leaving the various traps unsprung. Spencer and Drago would use them to cover their retreats when they came through.
He turned and ran up the steep slope. About halfway up, he heard the sound of a helicopter. Please, God, let that be Tanaka’s men. He reached a clear spot in the path and turned to peer back at the valley through his infrared gun sight. A large helicopter settled squarely in the center of the valley in the only reasonably open area on the property.
He watched through his night optical gear in horror as a dozen men, mostly Caucasian, streamed out of the bird—dammit, this could be more Oshiro gang members.
But his chagrin turned to shock as the newcomers were cut down before their feet touched the ground. The pilot tried to bug out, but the copter came under withering fire and smoke started pouring out of the engine section. It slammed back down to the ground, and the pilot emerged with his hands over his head. The bastards in the trees shot him where he stood.
“What the hell was that?” Spencer whispered.
“I think the Oshiro factions just resolved their differences,” Gunner replied dryly. “One side just slaughtered the other side. Although I couldn’t tell you which bunch was which. But they sure as hell made our job easier.”
Drago breathed, “I’m still counting at least two dozen hostiles out here. We’re a long way from out of the woods.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Gunner realized he was chanting the word with each step he took as he turned and sprinted up the trail. What were the odds they could go full defensive and egress out of this area with Chas and a baby in tow, and not get caught and mowed down like that pilot?
The terrain at the top of the ridge was rocky and open and provided precious little cover. There was no way to pass through this jungle without leaving a trail either. Not with an amateur and a baby.
They were well and truly screwed.
If this were a normal SEAL mission, he would call in all the air support that could be mustered, as well as whatever standoff support troops had been deployed along with the primary operating team.
He heard Spencer and Drago beginning to fire below him. Dammit. The hostiles were headed this way. They were running out of time to pull a miracle out of their asses.
God, he missed having all the resources of a SEAL team right now. Hell, they could call in a search-and-rescue bird to come pluck them off this mountain and fly them out—
It was a long shot, but what the hell. They were going to die up here. They were so ridiculously outnumbered and outgunned, it was laughable. If nothing else, the hostiles could simply wait for the three of them to run out of ammo and then hunt them all down and kill them at their leisure.
Horror at the idea of Chas and Poppy being executed in cold blood made him stumble, and he jerked his attention back to the path beneath his feet.
He spied the boulders ahead and put on one last maximum burst of speed. He leaped for cover and landed hard beside Chas and Poppy, both of whom lurched in surprise as he dropped down beside them. He frantically pulled out his cell phone and waited impatiently as the call went through. It was a Hail Mary pass, but it was all he could think of.
“Charles Favian. How may I help you?”
“Charles, it’s Gunner. Use my satellite phone to get my position. We’re on Oahu. We’re under attack and we can’t hold off this force for much longer. Do you have any resources at all you can call in to help us? We’re desperate.”
“Oahu, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t call in active-duty forces since you’re not on a government op, but there are a crap ton of retired SEALs in Hawaii, and I know a few of them. Lemme see what I can do.”
Charles Favian was fucking brilliant. He was going to call in retired SEALs and appeal to them to help two brothers in trouble. Now, if only some of those SEALs lived damned close by.
Charles had kept him on the line, and Gunner heard him talking urgently on another phone. “Yes. Call everyone. These are the coordinates. There’s a baby out there in the middle of it. Yes. And two SEALs. Spencer Newman and Gunner Vance. Team Ten.”
He glanced over at Chas, who stared back fearfully.
“Are we going to die?” Chas asked grimly.
He smiled bravely and lied, “Nah. SEALs always find a way.”
Spencer radioed urgently, “Fall back. I’ll cover your retreat and trap the trail.”
Gunner hung up on Charles, for they’d just run out of time. They were on their own now.
He set up his rig between two of the boulders to cover where the trail emerged and waited grimly for the final retreat. Drago came bursting out of the jungle first. He leaped behind the rocks and landed with the kind of grunt that gave away that he’d been hit.
“Chas, check him for wounds and do what you can,” Gunner bit out, never taking his eyes off the trail.
In under a minute, Spencer also burst out of the jungle, but he was ducking as someone shot at him. Aiming over his head, Gunner sent a round down the mountain to give Spencer the cover he needed to make it behind the boulders.
That was it. They were done retreating. Now they would shoot it out until they ran out of ammo or died, whichever came first.
Spencer set up shop at the left end of the outcropping. Drago waited impatiently while Chas insisted on tying a bandage around his left thigh, and then he rolled to the right side of the wall of rock.
“Ammo check?” Spencer murmured.
“I’ve got a couple hundred rounds,” Gunner reported.
“Same,” Drago replied.
“I’m at about one-twenty,” Spencer supplied.
Spencer didn’t have to tell them to conserve rounds. They all knew they were massively outgunned.
Over the next few minutes, the bad guys figured out where they were and fanned out across the slope below. The good news was the thick undergrowth was giving them hell and slowing them down a lot. Which, at the end of the day, only prolonged the inevitable.