Survival Mission - Chapter 17
Trevor tried to put Valerie out of his mind as he hiked back to the lake, careful to skirt around the watch points where intel indicated the mules would be positioned, awaiting what now was identified as a drone drop. Several drones, in fact, which meant each mule was most likely receiving their own supply from an individual drone.
He stepped over a fallen cedar log, looked at his watch. And began to jog. Getting to center of all the drop points was critical as he’d be guiding the teams of agents in to apprehend each mule.
His breath quickened, his heart rate increased and he immediately flashed back to the last time he’d exerted himself so fully.
Making love to Valerie.
Damn.
His DEA training had included how to compartmentalize during an op, to stay in undercover mode for the sake of the mission.
Letting down his team, the DEA, all of the potential victims the illicit drugs threatened was not part of his plan. But he couldn’t stop all of the emotions pouring out of his heart since meeting, connecting—hell, joining—to Valerie.
These weren’t fleeting emotions, or part of a sex hangover. They’d shared something deeper, possibly lasting. And he’d just blown it to smithereens with his last words to her. But he had to know she had no reason to seek him out, to put her life at risk. Because he’d never be able to live with himself if anything happened to Valerie. He’d have to save any more introspection for after this mission was over.
And try to ignore the images of Valerie’s skin, her lips, the way she’d opened so readily to him.
Fat chance.
***
Almost there. By her calculations, she was less than ten minutes from her campsite, where she planned to grab her keys and bolt for the parking lot. As much as she’d rather not think about Trevor or how she’d allowed herself to be played for a fool—way too easily—she believed him about the major takedown. She had no desire to be anywhere near flying bullets.
The path widened and she caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off the lake, no more than one hundred yards distant.
“Almost there,” she muttered. “Get the keys and—”
Too late, she caught movement in her peripheral vision. Searing pain hit her in the back of the head, knocking her flat to the ground.
***
Trevor heard the crackle of a shortwave radio before he saw the mule. He’d crept up to the lakeshore, avoiding the main trail there for the last half mile, making his movements deliberate and as silent as possible.
“Ziggy, come in.” The narco-trafficker stood on a boulder. Trevor knew from the mule’s vantage point he’d be able to see the drones come in over the lake, see them spread out to each trafficker and drop the drugs with evil efficiency.
“Jim, where’s Ziggy?” Another man’s voice. “I don’t like this. What if we’re already—”
“We’re not. Ziggy’s battery probably died, is all. Don’t worry about that now. We’re five minutes from delivery. Everyone check in.”
Trevor’s gut tightened. This was it. All he’d worked for.
So why were images of Valerie still fighting for his attention?