Wild Hearts (Novella) Read Free Page A

with Jose, trying to find some equitable solution. Now that the American press has gotten involved, our own people are calling for justice. Especially since Jose released these.” He set two more recent newspapers on the table. One showed the girl Risk had seen in the hallway, sprawled on the tile floor, her stuffed bear lying next to her.
    Risk jabbed his fingers at the picture. “She was alive just before we pulled out. Those wounds don’t even look real.” His eyes went to the second picture: Miguel and his wife dead in their bed. “That’s how they looked when we got there.” He tapped the pillow in the picture. “These bloodstains were already there. Whoever was outside the window probably killed them first, then waited for us.”
    “Give us the Wolf’s name,” Rath said. “He’s the only one who knew we were coming. It looks almost like he set this whole thing up.”
    “The Wolf has been a solid, trusted officer for years,” the woman at the table said. “He hasn’t been compromised.”
    Rath gave her a cold smile. “Let me find out.”
    The admiral flattened his hands on the table. “We’re conducting our own searchfor him. Until then, we’re the villains here, to the U.S. and Mexico. And they all want justice. We have to hold a hearing—closed, of course. We have to give the public what they’re looking for.”
    “Our blood,” Julian said, his voice menacingly low.
    “In a manner of speaking. We can’t admit that we sent you in on an official mission. Our story is that your team was doing a training exercise with Mexican security forces, which we’ve been doing in conjunction with their authorities for months now. Gutterson took it upon himself to target Romero’s compound because he believed they were a front for an actual drug cartel.” Stevens cleared his throat. “And you went with him.”
    “Which means El Martillo will be out for our blood,” Risk said.
    “We told Jose that you were following Gutterson’s orders. They seemed to buy that he was an extremist who used his authority to command your participation. We were hoping his death would be enough, but they want more retribution. I believe the hearing, and any punishment that ensues, will suffice.”
    “And we’re supposed to go quietly along?” Risk asked.
    “That was the agreement, gentlemen. You knew the terms.”
    Risk leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but I don’t think we got all the facts.”

    Three weeks later …
    Risk stalked down the hall with the rest of his team—ex-fucking-team—to the back of the building where reporters weren’t waiting for the “Rogue Six.” At least they hadn’t been court-martialed. Their commander had finagled that, which was damned nice, since they hadn’t done anything wrong. Everyone else, however, thought they had. The worst part was they had to go along with it. No, the really worst part was they weren’t active duty SEALs anymore.
    The rear door opened, and the flunky they’d been following gestured to a blacklimo, complete with a guy in a suit standing beside the vehicle.
    Risk, the first in the group, came to an abrupt stop. “What the—”
    “A limo instead of a prison transport van,” the flunky said with a smirk. “There ain’t no justice these days.”
    For the thousandth time, Risk bit back words that wanted to explode. Only a few people knew the truth. This jack-off was not one of them. And it shouldn’t bother him.
Get used to it
. But oh, buddy, did he want to smash the guy’s smirk into his face.
    The smirk disappeared, and Risk looked back to see that Rath had ripped the tie he’d just loosened into two pieces, the torn ends hanging from his fists. Rath’s steely gaze speared the flunky’s; still wearing his dark beard, he looked like a mountain man. A crazed, hack-you-into-pieces mountain man.
    Sax patted Rath’s shoulder, giving the flunky a mild look. “There’s a reason his nickname is Psycho. But you go on, keep