“Roger,” Mac responded. “On our way around the outside.”
Before Rucker and Bull could join Dash, the man in the Fedora spun and walked toward the rear exit.
Dash swore. “Our target just headed for the exit.”
“Picking up the pace,” Mac said. “See him ahead. He’s getting into a dark SUV.”
“Cripple it, but keep the bastard alive,” Rucker whispered.
“He discharged five men from the SUV. They’re providing cover for the vehicle’s getaway,” Mac reported.
“Do whatever it takes,” Rucker said. “We have to catch the bastard. We’re aborting the show and heading your way. Come on, Bull, Dash. Our guy is getting away.”
Dash’s jaw hardened. He hated leaving the women and children under such dire circumstances, but they had to catch the American responsible for selling them. Once they had him in hand, they’d go back to help the others.
After backing quietly out of the warehouse, Dash and Rucker turned and ran toward the back of the building.
The sound of machine gun rounds ripped through the air before Rucker and Dash reached the corner. They stopped short and pressed their backs to the wall. It was only a matter of time before the other men inside came out to see what all the fuss was about.
“Dawg, what’s going on? Where’s our target?” Rucker’s demanded.
“I fired on the driver’s side window and the tires, but the SUV is still moving. Hard to see in the dark to get a good bead on the tires when they’re driving directly away from me. The others are pinned down. The opposition is heavily armed, two bearing machine guns. When any of our guys move, they throw everything at them.”
In the lead, Dash eased up to the edge of the building, fit his night vision goggles over his eyes and glanced around the corner.
He spotted the green heat signatures of Mac, Blade, Tank and Bull, lying low to the ground, returning fire when they could.
Looking past them, he spotted four of the five men Dawg had indicated. They appeared as small green blobs hunkered close to the ground, their weapons trained on the Deltas.
Beyond them were the taillights of the SUV leaving the scene before they could capture the one person they wanted most.
Dash shook his head. How did the man managed to leave behind a team of heavily armed men? Had he known the Deltas were there? Was that why he’d left in such a hurry?
“Dawg,” Rucker said. “Forget the SUV. Cover our guys until we can put a plug in those machine guns. We’ll cover anyone coming out of the building.”
“Will do,” Dawg said.
Rucker, Bull and Dash turned away from their teammates.
“I’ll cover the other end of the building,” Dash said.
“If you step out now, they’ll nail you,” Rucker warned.
“I’m not stepping out. I’ll go low and fast,” he assured Rucker. “Cover me.”
“I’ve got your six,” Rucker said.
Using his elbows and knees, Dash low-crawled to the other end of the building, his rifle cradled in front of him. Once there, he rounded the corner and established a position covering the opposite side.
Between rapid bursts of bullets, a single shot rang out.
Dash glanced behind him.
The first shot hit one of the five men firing on the Deltas. His machine gun went silent.
Checking for trouble in front of him, Dash watched, waiting for the remaining men to leave the women and children and come out to defend their buddies.
The next shot silenced the second machine gun. A quick glance to his rear reassured Dash that the three remaining men had eased backward. He couldn’t make out their heat signatures.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
With fewer rounds being fired, Dash picked up on other sounds.
Engines revved.
Dash ran along the side of the building to the front.
The vehicles that had been parked there earlier were leaving, spinning up dirt and gravel as they took off.
The engine of the truck that had brought the women and children to the warehouse roared to life.
Instead of helping the other gunmen, the men who’d been inside herding their cargo were now loading the women and children into the truck. They shouted orders, pushed and shoved them into the truck about to pull away from the loading dock.
“The truck’s getting ready to leave,” Dash said into his mic.
“Do what you can to stop it,” Rucker said. “We’re on our way.”
Dash aimed at the man still standing on the dock. This was the man who’d stripped the first woman on the dais. Now, he held a child in his arms. He swung her around and tossed her into the back of the truck like a sack of potatoes, the last child to be loaded.
Dash pulled the trigger, taking the bastard down with a single shot. Another man appeared. Dash took him down.
The truck lumbered away from the dock, slowly picking up speed.
“Rucker, are you in position?” Dash asked.
“We’re here,” Rucker said.
“Cover me. I’m going to stop that truck.”
“Bull will provide cover,” Rucker said. “I’ll take the passenger side.”
“I’ve got the driver.” His jaw tight, Dash raced for the driver’s door as Rucker went for the passenger side.
They arrived at the same time, climbing up on the step.
Dash yanked open the driver’s door.
The driver yelled in surprise and tried to shove Dash away.
On the other side of the cab, Rucker had jerked open the passenger door. He was wrestling the weapon out of the man’s hand when it went off, blasting a hole through the windshield.
Dash clamped his arm around the driver’s neck and snapped his head to one side. The driver went limp. The truck lurched forward as the man’s foot rested hard on the accelerator. As he slumped to the side, his arms turned the steering wheel.
Dash fought to pull the driver out of his seat. When he couldn’t, he crawled on top of him, shoved the guy’s foot to the side, took control of the steering wheel and found his way to the brake.
Rucker had the passenger in a death grip, fighting for control of the rifle in his hands.
When Dash jerked the steering wheel around, Rucker slammed the butt of his rifle into the passenger’s face, knocking him out. Grabbing the man’s arm, he pulled him out of the cab. He fell to the ground and rolled beneath the truck’s wheels.
The truck bounced over the man, nearly jerking the steering wheel out of Dash’s hands.
When he had the vehicle under control, he pressed his foot on the brake and brought the truck to a gradual stop.
Before the vehicle came to a complete halt, Rucker was out of the cab and on the ground, headed to the rear.
Dash set the parking brake and joined Rucker at the back of the vehicle.
A man bearing an AK-47 leaped to the ground and ran into the dark.
In the bed of the truck, women and children scrambled to get their feet beneath them, some of them whimpering in pain, others sobbing in fear.
“Mac?” Rucker said into his mic.
“All clear at the warehouse. Dawg got the main gunners. We cleaned up another. Anyone left standing bugged out.”
“We stopped the truck,” Rucker said. “Like you said, anyone left standing bugged out.”
The men gathered around the truck and checked the status of all the people inside. Other than a few bruises and scrapes, they were intact. Shaken, scared and tearful, but alive.