Prologue
Jerricho Hickory came back from the fishing trip, a smile in his heart. He really had taken to fishing like he hadn’t ever expected. He would never be quite as addicted to the sport as Eva’s father Greg was, but Jerricho had gotten up every morning at 5:00 a.m. the past few days and couldn’t wait to get on that lake. They had even tried afternoon fishing and evening fishing. The joy of catching that first fish had hooked Jerricho for life. He had promised to come back soon and often. And that was a promise that he would thoroughly enjoy keeping.
As it was, he headed back to what appeared to be a soulless apartment now. After being at the cabin—where Jerricho, Greg, Eva, and Diesel were ensconced in Greg’s cabins and the joy in life and recuperating from exhaustion and the emotional impact of everything they’d been through—Jerricho found his apartment empty and without merit anymore.
He had never really cared about it before, but, just after this trip, it really got to him. As he sat here, out on his deck, a cold beer in his hand, his phone rang. He looked down to see Diesel as the Caller ID. “Hey, Diesel,” he said. “Did you catch any fish for me this morning?”
“Actually,” he said, “I caught my first trout.”
“Damn!” he said. “I’m so sad I had to leave.”
“Did you have to leave though?” he asked. “Couldn’t you have stayed?”
“I still have to get my life together,” he said. “You get to sit back and relax now. I’m not sure exactly what you’ll do with your life or what she’ll do with your life,” he said, chuckling, “but I just felt like it was time for me to leave.”
“What I’ll do now is,” he said, “usher you in your next mission.”
After a moment’s pause, he said, “Seriously?”
“Yep, seriously.”
“When?”
“Well, you better finish that beer in your hand,” he said in a dry tone.
“Shit! Are you watching me?”
“I wouldn’t be so intrusive,” he said, “but I have to tell you that’s what I do too, when I hit home. I pull out a beer and sit back on the deck.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing. So what happens when I finish this beer?”
“You’re heading out in less than three hours.”
“Crap!” he said. “I haven’t even done laundry.”
“First thing you do after a mission is,” he said, “you check out what you need to get done to leave again.”
“I didn’t have a chance yet. I’ve only been home a couple hours.”
“You got enough clothes?”
“If I don’t, you’ll find them for me, won’t you?”
“I absolutely will,” he said.
“So where am I going?” Jerricho asked.
“Switzerland is your initial landing spot,” Diesel said, with a laugh.
“Why?”
“I’d tell you, but I don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“What’ll ruin it for me?”
“Somebody you know is in trouble,” he said. “It came through official channels, but, when I recognized the name, I figured you’d want to know.”
“Who?” he asked, hopping to his feet. “Not too many people I care about in my world.”
Diesel said, “Yeah, I hear you there. And then I remembered the conversation we had with Eva.”
At that, Jerricho’s stomach sank. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “Is it Brenna?”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “She was on a media trip. I didn’t realize she was a journalist.”
“I didn’t either. And what happened?”
“She and her cameraman have been kidnapped. They were on a trip through Switzerland, heading toward Libya. Obviously they didn’t make it. They have disappeared in the mountains.”
“Ah, hell,” he said. “Where’s her husband?”
“That’s the thing,” Diesel said. “I don’t have any record of a husband.”
“Last I heard, she was getting married,” he protested.
“Maybe you heard wrong, but she’s over there alone, except for the one cameraman with her.”
“Any … any other intel?”
“I’ll send it as soon as I get it,” he said. “You need to get a move on now.” And, with that, Diesel rang off.
Jerricho turned from his deck to look around at the small apartment through the open doorway and the nearby windows. Out loud he said, “Well, I didn’t like this place anyway.” He threw back the rest of his beer, quickly switched out the dirty clothes in his duffel bag with a clean batch, and was out the door. As he made it to the front curb, he considered taking his vehicle to the airport or calling for a ride.
When a vehicle raced toward him, he laughed. “Damn, I like this job.”
And, with that, he was gone.
Chapter 1
Jerricho Hickory exited the airplane in Switzerland, swearing, as his messages downloaded and, with them, new intel stated that Brenna had arrived in Libya, before disappearing. He would either continue on to Libya directly or to Malta first. Malta was a small place, and tourists were definitely noticed, but he could get a private flight or get onto a ship, then come in from the sea. Not to mention it would give him access to Libya and Tunisia, depending what the kidnappers’ plan was. Jerricho also didn’t have an exact location on Brenna’s current whereabouts. At this point she could be anywhere, with an end destination they hadn’t thought up yet.
He’d received a dossier from the Mavericks on Brenna’s life, and he’d read it with interest. He still had some major questions, like, what happened to the wedding that apparently didn’t happen? A part of him was sad for her, and yet a latent part was happy. After all, Brenna and Jerricho couldn’t make their marriage work, but he wanted her to be happy. However, at the same time, obviously something had gone completely screwy in her life because, last he heard, her wedding was imminent.
Not a whole lot to know about the supposedly male cameraman—Jessie? Usually a guy was named Jesse, while the gals were Jessie. Anyway the cameraman had been doing this job for six months and never had an issue. He was American, same as Brenna. Both worked at the same press outfit, and both had no ties to Libya or to all of North Africa or any of the nearby Middle Eastern countries that were rife with discord right now. Brenna and Jessie had been sent over by their outlet, one of the big news stations, and were supposed to be there for one week.
Four days in, on Thursday at 6:00 p.m., EST, Brenna had failed to report in to do a live newscast. After some scrambling, the press outlet realized nobody had seen either her or her cameraman since noon that same day. Assuming bad connections across the pond, nobody had worried about a couple hours’ delay. Four hours later they still assumed she would show up. When she didn’t, there hadn’t even been a serious concern, other than the fact that she wasn’t there for the broadcast.
When they couldn’t get a hold of Brenna the rest of the evening, they contacted local authorities. By morning everybody was on full alert. She hadn’t been seen in at least eighteen hours. Her cameraman Jessie had been missing for the same amount of time. The news station did have a notification that it looked like the two had been forced into a vehicle, somewhere around the one o’clock mark on Thursday, Libya time. The station was still trying to confirm that time and the exact location. Other than that, Brenna and Jessie had disappeared, and the station had received no ransom note.