Edge of Fury (Edge Security Series Book 7) Read online

  Edge of Fury

  An EDGE Security Novel

  Trish Loye

  Tough Girl Press

  Contents

  Dedication

  Wounded Warriors

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Also by Trish Loye

  Note From the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Trish Loye

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, incidents, and places is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9959678-1-6

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  For Wounded Warriors Canada

  Honour the Fallen, Help the Living.

  Wounded Warriors

  Battlefield Bike Ride

  All proceeds from book sales in May 2017 are being donated to Wounded Warriors Canada. In June, I will be biking 600 kilometers in six days through Northern France along with 150 other Canadians for the Battlefield Bike Ride to raise money for Wounded Warriors Canada. Follow me on Facebook to check out my training and progress for the ride!

  To donate directly to the cause then please go to: http://bit.ly/2nyOvo4

  For more information please visit:

  http://woundedwarriors.ca/bbr17/

  Prologue

  East of La Dorada, in the department of Caldas, Colombia

  Two months previous…

  Darkness hid EDGE operator Marc Koven as he lay on a branch of a mahogany tree and surveyed the mansion through his night vision goggles. A guard in a light-colored t-shirt and jeans ambled back and forth where the manicured lawn met the dense jungle, his AK-47 casually slung over his shoulder. At one point he stopped; a small light flared green in Marc’s NVGs, and then the man kept walking, cigarette in hand.

  The mansion was a two-story, flat-roofed modern monstrosity. Large windows and mini balconies made the place look as if it belonged in Beverly Hills. It even had a pool with a waterfall in the backyard. It must have cost a fortune to build so far from the city, but the man who owned it was a god of the underworld here in Colombia.

  Marc keyed his throat mic when the guard was far enough away. “Valkyrie, this is Spooky, over.”

  “This is Valkyrie,” his team leader Cat Richards said, her voice husky in the quiet. “What do you have?”

  “A single guard. Child’s play.”

  “Doc? Lucky?” she asked.

  “Single guard,” Doc reported in his deep voice.

  “Same here.” Lucky’s New Orleans’ drawl always made him seemed relaxed, even in the midst of a mission. “Tell me we have the go-ahead to kill the asshole who took the girls.”

  “He’s not our objective tonight. The main mission is the girls,” Cat replied. “But I don’t think anyone would mind if Ramirez was taken out.

  “Consider it done,” Marc said.

  Vicente Ramirez was the head of Los Urabeños, the largest drug cartel in Colombia. He made his money off of trafficking drugs, girls and violence. Kidnapping for ransom used to be common in Colombia. Now, if someone went missing they were presumed dead or lost to a human trafficking network. That was why the hostage’s parents went crazy when they lost contact with their nineteen-year-old daughter and her friend shortly after the girls left Bogotá for Cartagena. They knew they wouldn’t be asked for ransom and that they had a very short window before the girls would be lost to them.

  And of course, the fucking government had been too slow to help. Thankfully, the girl’s father, a former infantry officer in the Canadian army, had asked his friend Colonel Blackwell for help.

  Blackwell, the head of operations for EDGE, a covert international military group, had asked for volunteers because this wasn’t an official mission. The team, including Marc, had all stepped up. They’d tracked the girls to Ramirez’s house and ran surveillance for the last twelve hours.

  “Stay on target. Mission comes first,” Cat reminded them. “Take your guards down. Make it quiet. RV at my location.”

  “Roger,” Marc said. “Spooky out.”

  The other guys echoed him.

  Marc slithered down the tree, pulled his knife and stalked toward the guard dragging smoke into his lungs. The man’s back was to him, making this almost easy—not that taking a life was ever easy.

  The guard was a member of Los Urabeños and he’d helped kidnap, and possibly rape, the two young women inside and countless others. Marc refused to feel bad for what he was about to do.

  In one smooth motion, Marc stepped up behind the man, covered his mouth, and rammed the knife into the base of his skull, severing the spinal column. The man grunted and dropped like a brick.

  Marc left the body and ran to the side of the house. He joined Cat where she waited in a dark patch of shadow. Seconds later, a tall, lean man appeared. Rhys “Lucky” Lafayette had on his let’s-dive-into-danger grin.

  A moment after that, a huge black man stepped from the shadows. Zach “Doc” Grayson’s impressive fierceness and fighting skills hid an empathetic nature that made him a great medic. He’d be the one dealing with the traumatized girls after exfil. And there was no doubt they’d be traumatized. Fucking bastards.

  “Let’s do this,” Cat said.

  They all knew their jobs. Now they just had to execute the plan.

  Zach crouched and gripped his hands together. Marc stepped on them, and Zach lifted him easily so he could grip the railing on the balcony above them and then flip himself over.

  Marc scanned the dark interior through the sliding door. No movement. He checked the door for traps before pushing it open. The sounds of a TV and men chatting came from somewhere inside the house. Marc turned and signaled to the others before he stepped into the bedroom. A bed and dresser, and a decent-sized bathroom attached. No personal items anywhere. He went to the hallway door and shut it except for a crack, which he kept his eyes glued to. Behind him, his teammates entered the room with barely a whisper of sound.

  Within moments, he felt a tap on his shoulder—Doc signaling entry complete and ready for phase two. Marc reopened the door and slid into the empty hallway.

  The house was divided into two wings separated by a large glass-walled living room. The upstairs of the other wing seemed to be the guards’ living quarters, while Ramirez kept this wing to himself. A couple of bikini-clad women had been walking around this area during their surveillance, which hopefully meant that the two girls were being kept in a bedroom up here.

  Marc went to the first door across the hall. No sound came from it. Rhys came up and knelt next to him, inserting a snake camera under the door. He watched a small, thin screen attached to the snake while manipulat
ing the camera. Rhys pulled it back out, held up one finger and then touched his hand to his throat as if choking before he withdrew to his spot behind Zach.

  One hostage.

  Marc opened the door quickly and quietly, his weapon at the ready. After clearing the room, he lowered it and checked the hostage. The girl on the cot in the corner gasped, her eyes wide. He looked her over in a split second. Dirty, scratched, and bruised, she had on a long t-shirt and underwear. Shoes and pants were missing.

  He held his finger to his lips. She scuttled farther back on the cot, pressing herself against the wall. When the others had entered the room, Marc let his weapon hang from the sling on his shoulder and held both hands palms up. “Beth? Your dad sent us,” he said quietly. “We’re here to take you home.”

  Tears filled the girl’s eyes. She leapt off the bed and straight at him, shuddering against him when he caught her. “Get me out of here. Please.”

  “We will,” he promised. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Sophie?” Beth’s breath hitched. “He took her.”

  Cat stepped forward. If possible, the girl’s eyes went even wider at seeing a woman decked out in weapons and body armor. “Doc, you’re with the girl. Lucky, you’re with me. We’ll cover the stairs. Spooky, find the other girl.”

  Beth grabbed Marc’s sleeve as he turned to go. “Last door on the left. That’s… That’s his bedroom.”

  He nodded his thanks and left her with Zach. Their luck was running out. He moved down the hall in the direction Beth had indicated while Cat and Rhys went to cover the top of the stairs.

  He paused outside the last door. Crying and then a man’s voice. At the smacking sound of something hitting flesh, Marc stepped back and kicked the door in, his rifle already up as he searched for his target. A dark-haired girl cradled her face where she huddled by the wall. A man with dark eyes and a large hawkish nose whirled to him.

  Ramirez.

  Marc saw the knife a split second before it winged toward him. He fired, but missed the kill shot as he dodged the knife. The bullet hit Ramirez’s arm, who grunted in pain. The girl raced by Marc, headed for the hallway. Ramirez shouted for his men and leapt for the open patio door. Marc snagged the girl with one arm while he tried for another shot on Ramirez.

  Too late. Ramirez had already jumped to the ground.

  Marc cursed himself for missing. Holding tight to the struggling girl, he keyed his throat mic. “Valkyrie. Ramirez escaped. Expect incoming.”

  “Copy. And the girl?”

  “I’ve got her.”

  “Roger that. Doc, you and Spooky get the girls out. Lucky and I will cover.”

  “Copy. Spooky out.” He let the girl go just as a series of loud bangs went off, almost like grenades. Cat was throwing flash bangs down the stairs. Gunfire erupted. The girl shrank back from the door and eyed the balcony. She wore a ripped and stained t-shirt that barely went to her mid-thigh. Her fists clenched as she watched him.

  “Sophie? We’re here to rescue you,” he said to the desperate girl, holding out his hand. “Come with me and I’ll get you out of here.”

  Sophie’s breath hitched and her gaze darted over his uniform, before she placed her hand in his.

  He led her to the balcony. “I’m going to go down first. Then I want you to climb down. I’ll catch you. Can you do that?”

  “God, yes,” she said. “Anything to get out of here.”

  He smiled. “Let’s do this then.”

  They climbed down even as the shouts and gunfire inside got louder. Zach and the first girl appeared from around the side of the house. The girls hugged each other. Marc looked at Zach. Rhys and Cat should be coming out now.

  Marc pressed his mic. “Valkyrie, sitrep.”

  “We’re surrounded,” Cat said. “Clear the bedroom exfil.”

  “Roger that.” He turned to Zach. “Take the girls.”

  Zach nodded and ushered the girls into the dense jungle. They’d need to run a kilometer to the waiting bird, but both seemed eager to get away, sprinting across the dark lawn despite their bare feet.

  Marc raced to the other side of the house. Four of Ramirez’s men stood below the balcony of the original bedroom they’d entered, firing at someone inside.

  Marc sighted and pulled the trigger, sweeping his bullets across the four men in seconds. They screamed and dropped.

  “Clear,” Marc said on the comms as he moved under the balcony. “Valkyrie, Lucky. Let’s move.”

  More men came around the far side of the building. He crouched and picked them off. Rhys and Cat dropped from the balcony.

  “Covering,” he yelled, and scanned for any more guards as Cat and Rhys sprinted for the jungle.

  A second later, Cat’s voice came over the comms. “We’ve got you covered, Spooky. Move now.”

  He leapt up, trusting his teammates, and raced for the jungle. His heart thundered; his legs pumped hard. He didn’t slow until he was deep in the wilderness. Cat and Rhys followed him. The team had cleared a narrow path with machetes earlier in the day. That combined with their NVGs let them navigate the thick bush easily.

  Shouts and gunfire drifted away behind them as Ramirez’s searching men got tangled up in the dense undergrowth in the dark. They made it to the pickup where Zach waited in the driver’s seat, with the two girls laying low in the back. It would be a short drive to where Cowboy and Ghost waited with the bird.

  “Mission success,” Cat said quietly, climbing into the truck bed.

  Marc growled as he sat across from her. “Ramirez got away.” And having that bastard running loose didn’t sit well with him. “We could go back.”

  Cat shook her head. “The girls are the mission.”

  Rhys clambered up and sat next to Cat. “Hostages recovered. Zero casualties,” Rhys added. “It’s time to go home.”

  The two girls lay flat between them just in case they ran into any further trouble. The girls had gone through too much for Marc to be happy. He wished he could have gotten there sooner. Or that he’d managed to kill Ramirez. Looking at their bruised faces and haunted eyes, he itched to go back and destroy Ramirez.

  But Cat was right. His team was right. The girls were the mission and the mission always came first.

  1

  Smells of roast beef made Marc’s stomach growl as he opened the door to his parents’ bungalow in Ottawa. His mother had taught him to cook, but he’d never be as good as her in the kitchen. But then, cooking wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

  “Is that you, Marc?” she called from the kitchen. She’d been beyond excited when he’d told her he was coming, which made guilt gnaw at his insides. He didn’t spend enough time with his parents. He called when he could, but not often enough.

  His company, EDGE Security, was actually an international covert military organization, so secret that Marc couldn’t tell anyone who he really worked for, not even his family. Maintaining EDGE’s cover of a civilian security company meant attending the occasional tedious conference. This time around, Marc had drawn the short straw. At least the boring sessions and bullshit networking was done for the day and he was able to visit his parents. Tension left his muscles as he inhaled the scents of a home-cooked meal.

  “Hey Mom,” he called out, shrugging off his leather jacket by the door. Pictures of him and his siblings as children hung on the walls of the narrow hall to the kitchen. “Smells great.”

  His dad stepped into the hall from the living room and blocked his path. “You,” he said quietly. His father was a big man. Not fat, but tall and wide, like a stone building. Marc was tall, but he was leaner than his father, taking after his mother in that department.

  Marc tensed, knowing what was coming. “Hey, Dad.”

  “You don’t come home enough,” he said gruffly. He pointed at the kitchen. His Israeli accent thickened. “She gets worried, and when she’s worried she’s hard to live with. You need to call her more.”

  Marc sighed. “I know, Dad. I’m sor
ry. My job—”

  “Don’t explain it to me,” he said. “Tell her why you can’t visit more often.”

  Damn it, he’d just wanted a home-cooked meal. Maybe he shouldn’t have told them he’d be in town.

  And then his mom’s heart would have broken if she’d ever found out.

  “Dad,” a feminine voice called from beyond his father. “Leave Marc alone. He’ll never come back if you keep bugging him.”

  “Sadie.” Marc moved past his still grumbling father and gathered his youngest sister in his arms. Like him, Sadie shared their mother’s dark, almost black hair. “They didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

  “Last-minute decision,” she said. “I’m on vacation and decided to take a detour. Besides, I wanted to see the show.” Her eyes danced mischievously.

  “What show?” he said slowly.

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen?”

  Marc braced himself and walked into the kitchen. It was an open area with an attached counter that separated it from the dining room. Steaming dishes already lay on that counter, waiting to be put on the wooden table set for…five. He raised an eyebrow. Had Sadie brought a date?

  “Come give your ima a hug.” His mother only used the Hebrew word for mom when she wanted something from him. His gaze narrowed. She had an apron tied over a pair of dress pants and a creamy sweater. Her short, dark hair was tucked behind her ears, and her blue eyes—the same blue as his—focused on him. “Couldn’t you have dressed up a bit?” she asked. “I thought you were at a conference today.”

  He looked down at his jeans and black t-shirt. “I stopped at my hotel and changed into something more comfortable.” It clicked that his father wore a dress shirt and his mother wore makeup and earrings.

  Ambush!

  “Why are you dressed up, Mom? What’s going on?”