Black Ops Brotherhood: Tightrope Part 1

TIGHTROPE.

Black Ops Brotherhood.

Bella Juarez.

DEDICATION.

To my family, thank you for tolerating the long hours I spend at keyboard in another world. To the Babes, thank you for your support this past year and for guiding me home again.

Thank you to all who serve in our armed forces and in public service, past and present. Your extraordinary sacrifice to duty gives life to these stories.

Chapter 1.

Nacozari de Garcia, Sonora, Mexico.

174 km from the United States border.

June 2, 2010/1043 Zulu.

Lieutenant Dan Gamez tossed the baggage handed to him into the back of the vehicle. His trained eye scanned the area around his position to see had changed on the runway. This s.n.a.t.c.h-and-grab would be risky in broad daylight. As a bead of sweat ran down his neck, he shook off the irritation of the long hair he'd grown to blend in with the gang of thugs he and his team had infiltrated. The hard part had been making initial contact without being obvious or seeming too eager. But, with one well-executed bar fight that left no one but them standing, the cartel had come knocking at their door within a few days.

After checking their cover story about being rejected Army Rangers, the cartel gave them small jobs to test their skills. With their former military experience they'd convinced the cartel to let them pull security details for them. Their work paid off, and they were about to get their hands on someone who could help them locate weapons of ma.s.s destruction gone missing from a base in Afghanistan. If they hadn't gotten this a.s.signment, it wouldn't have matter; they'd simply take their target. However, doing the security detail made this op a lot cleaner. This mission had taken months of surveillance, planning, and in-theater waiting. The SEAL team he served with had been following the dealings of a US-Pakistani diplomat who traveled the world h.e.l.l-bent on the destruction of the United States.

For the last four years, they'd been working to shut this man down once and for all. So far, they'd managed to stop his efforts to use biological warfare both as a terrorist weapon on US soil and against troops fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq. It had been a complex fight on several fronts. Part of his plan included a cyber-attack on US military personnel records to obtain medical and other cla.s.sified information. Just when his group, Naval Special Warfare Group 5, thought they'd shut down one of his avenues, another would open. This time, he'd managed to obtain WMDs that would be a doomsday prepper's nightmare come to life.

He'd stolen electromagnetic pulse weapons from Russia.

Dan watched two men step out of the aircraft that had just arrived from Houston, Texas. Looking north to one of the bigger hills that surrounded the airstrip, he knew there were two SEAL snipers watching the runway just in case anything went wrong. The Cartel king himself, Ignacio Montenegro, greeted Minister Nayyaf Bakri and ushered him into a separate vehicle. Dan and his crew would be taking Bakri's secretary and right-hand man in a separate vehicle. The minister's secretary was their target. His palms itched as he watched the minster's departure and reminded himself that they'd have another chance, another day. The secretary would know almost as much as the minister did. This man would have critical knowledge that could help aid them in their objective, recovering two cases of EMP devices. Specifically, he would know where the weapons, had been shipped.

"Hurry up! We don't have all day. I have a meeting I must attend," the secretary said.

"Sorry, sir. I'm under orders to keep you safe," Dan replied. The ability to speak fluent Spanish had come in handy for this operation.

"Yes, well, let's get on with it."

Two of the SEALs who comprised his covert team got in the front seats while Dan sat next to the secretary in the back. As they drove, he glanced at his watch. They'd be at the designated meeting site soon.

Lord, please don't let this whole op go to s.h.i.t in the last five minutes.

Watching for the markers signaling the op was still a go, he searched the horizon for the appearance of a chopper from the Army's 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment or Night Stalkers who would be their ticket home. He spotted his signal as they pa.s.sed the last marker and tossed his weapon into the back of the Suburban. Moving quicker than his target could process, he grabbed his pistol from the holster strapped around his leg and pointed the muzzle against the secretary's head. "Don't move, motherf.u.c.ker!" he said in English.

The secretary squeaked in terror. A figure rose from behind their detainee and grabbed him around his neck. SEAL medic, Chief Petty Officer Isaac "Doc" Davis administered a tranquilizer directly into the carotid that would keep him quiet the rest of the trip. In seconds, the man slumped over, unconscious.

"Friday, make contact and let them know we're on our way," Dan said.

They reached the landing zone, or LZ, but the chopper was nowhere to be found. "What the h.e.l.l? Where's that f.u.c.king chopper?" Shaq asked as he pulled into the empty field.

They were expected at a resort located in the mountains of the Sonora desert, which gave them a forty-five-minute window. They still had to be vigilant because the cartel patrolled this area for rival gangs trying to use this desolate land for alternate smuggling routes.

"s.h.i.t!" Dan snapped. They didn't need this kind of glitch even if they did have a little time to play with. He dumped the secretary on to the leather seats and opened his door. "Let me check it out. Shaq, when I get out, head to that grove of trees where the snipers are supposed to meet up. Get undercover."

"f.u.c.k that! Let's all go over there. You don't need to be in the open, LT," Shaq replied.

Dan looked out and scanned the area. He thought he heard the drumming of helicopter rotors and peered into the distance.

"Davis, hand me my weapon. Get the f.u.c.k out of here, Shaq!" Dan roared as he slammed his door shut.

The chopper he'd spotted had come from the wrong direction, and it wasn't the Night Stalker Blackhawk that should've been picking them up. Instead, an armed Huey shifted and made a beeline for their position. Shaq floored the gas and headed away from the snipers that should've been hiding in the stand of scrubby trees and brush. By moving the vehicle out of the clearing, he'd signaled to the rest of the team that the mission had been jeopardized. He knew the cartel bought advanced weapons to secure their drug and human traffic trade. Best case scenario, the Huey would have automatic guns; worst case, it might be armed with missiles. Either way, the Suburban made them sitting ducks. Dan quickly weighed his options, and the clarity of this mission clicked.

Get the secretary to the drop point.

Dan opted for the safety of the nearby hills and the tiered limestone that jutted out in an uneven pattern, hoping it would offer them some protection. While they waited for the chopper to get closer, he held his breath and watched as the aircraft doubled back and made a beeline for the Suburban.

"Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here," Shaq said.

The SEAL driving had read Dan's mind, and without hesitating, they emptied the vehicle and headed for the limestone hills. He prayed the empty vehicle would be enough of a diversion to keep them safe until the Blackhawk arrived.

The two dive buddies exchanged glances, and without words, they tucked the detainee behind them. Dan leveled his weapon hoping he'd get lucky and maybe take out the pilot if they weren't spotted right away. He mentally remapped the area for another hiding place and a plan on how the h.e.l.l to get there. Focusing, he lined up his sights with the incoming Huey, knowing the shot would give them away if he missed.

The chopper coming for them suddenly spun out of control. The tail rotor had malfunctioned causing the aircraft to crash into the rocks less than a hundred yards away. Dan, Shaq, Davis, and Friday ducked for cover to avoid the blast's wave of heat and the noxious scent of fuel. The explosion left the SEALs temporally deaf and mildly disoriented. When Dan regained his equilibrium, he saw the Night Stalker's Blackhawk coming over the horizon. The secretary had regained consciousness and struggled to stand. The last thing the team needed was for this man to fight, so Dan turned around and punched him, rendering him unconscious once more. As soon as the Blackhawk landed, the four snipers from the grove and the four-man SEAL team with the secretary, piled into the chopper for the trip to the CIA listening station outside of Douglas, Arizona.

With the mission successfully accomplished, the SEAL team caught a flight back to their home base at Randolph Air Force Base near San Antonio, Texas. The team still had a long night ahead of them. They had to debrief the command staff of Special Warfare Group 5 waiting for them.

Dan shook off fatigue as the team gathered round the conference table in the captain's office. The debrief had been completed, and Captain O'Malley congratulated the team on a job well done with a tradition Dan had been a part of only once before.

"I want a back brief on this op, lieutenant, on my desk by Monday morning. As soon as I get that report, you three are on mandatory leave for thirty days. I don't want to see you on the base, understood? Friday, you know the drill. Set us up."

Petty Officer Montgomery went to a cabinet in the captain's office and pulled out shot gla.s.ses and a bottle of Scotch. He returned to the table and handed each one of the men present a drink. Dan loved this tradition. It meant he and his team had met an extraordinary standard of excellence and had done the job to his captain's satisfaction. Very high praise, indeed. Captain O'Malley was one of his heroes, and to be in the company of these legendary SEALs was without equal in Dan's list of accomplishments.

"The only easy day was yesterday." Captain O'Malley lifted his gla.s.s in a toast.

"Hoo-yah!" the men responded as they downed the shot.

"Now get outta here all of you. I've got a date tonight."

As he parked his truck, Dan breathed a sigh of relief before getting out. Running his fingers through his long hair, the first order of business tomorrow would be to get it cut and back to the way he liked it. Being a covert operative, he never looked like he was in the military instead he opted for a short spiky 'do. He opened the door to his apartment and exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. For the first time in six weeks he'd be able to sleep with both eyes closed. He peeled off the grimy camouflage uniform that had pasted itself onto his skin and stepped into the shower.

What am I gonna do with thirty days of free time?

Since coming to NSWG-5, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a day off. As he dried himself, he recalled flying over the fence that separated Arizona from Mexico. He'd grown up in the border town of Bisbee, and he remembered his mom had sent him the invitation for his high school reunion scheduled for the Fourth of July weekend.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked into his kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water. The water and a six-pack of beer were the only things he hadn't thrown out of his fridge before he left. He leaned against the counter and took a long drink of the ice-cold water. The invitation lay exactly where he'd left it weeks ago next to the stack of unopened mail on the breakfast bar. He reached out and stopped, his hand hovering over the engraved note.

Just pick it up, dumba.s.s. It's only a piece of paper. His hand didn't move, and he remained frozen in place. Thirty-days' leave and the perfect excuse to go back home. Sure, why the h.e.l.l not? Now determined, he picked up the invitation as he took another long swallow from the bottle of water. He read the words engraved on the heavy paper, and the memories played in his mind as clearly as though they had happened hours before instead of years ago.

Had he been twelve then or thirteen? It didn't matter. He could feel the silken texture of her hair in his hand when he pulled on her long ponytail to get her attention. He chuckled at the memory of how p.i.s.sed she got when he teased her about her height. He did it deliberately just to experience the fire of her temper. To this day, he remembered the heat. And then there were those times when she would let him hold her. Sure, those were hugs between friends-she was his best friend-but his c.o.c.k would stand at attention because, even then, it knew better than he did what it wanted.

He tapped the invitation against the top of the water bottle as he walked back to his bedroom. He put the bottle and invitation on the nightstand, flopped back on the bed, and let the memories roll through his mind.

High school. The tutoring sessions in Algebra that led to talking about anything and everything, sharing their deepest secrets, wishes, hopes, and plans for the future.

As they got older, his attraction to her became stronger, deeper. Her smile followed by a cute giggle or an outright, hearty laugh always made him smile. He couldn't remember exactly when things changed, but there came a time when he no longer wanted to tease her and pull on her ponytail. He visualized removing the hair elastic holding that ponytail and watching her hair flow around her shoulders and down her back.

His high school buddies teased him mercilessly whenever they caught him watching her.

"Dude, you do not wanna get involved with that. She'll cut your 'nads off and feed 'em to her dog before you even know they're gone."

Dan knew better. Unlike his peers, he'd gotten to know Rio, and she'd become one of his two best friends. Her brother, Davey, had been his best bud for as long as he could remember-and that was the problem.

Guys learned early to abide by the first rule of the Bro Code: Bros before hoes. The second rule was even more concrete than the first: A bro' never, ever dates or comes on to his BFF's sister. The Gamez and Jensen families' Hispanic heritage and values were deeply ingrained in both boys such that the second rule in the code was a matter of a man's honor. And a man's honor was held above everything. Rio was off-limits. Period.

Nevertheless, hearts, hormones, and heritage never gave a s.h.i.t about rules, codes, or even honor.

The memory of Rio's take-charge nature made Dan's c.o.c.k spring to life and brought him wide awake. She directed everything other than their study time, and he let her because it was natural for their relationship. He had such a huge crush on her back then, and even now, she drew an instant reaction stronger than before. There was always that one situation he drew on to remember her, a problem that had upset him and how he'd been at a loss about how to deal with it. She'd taken his hand and calmly talked him through the solution. Her touch made him go liquid, and all he could do was listen. Remembering what her touch felt like and how in control she was as she walked him through the problem turned him on.

Jerking his hips, he rubbed his now swollen c.o.c.k against the towel still around his waist. How many times had he pictured her face instead of the girl he'd been f.u.c.king while in college? Why didn't he ever go for what he really wanted? He remembered she'd joined the Air Force during one of his busy semesters and had left for basic training before he could get home to say good-bye. The thought of Rio in a uniform...

He tore the towel away and grabbed his c.o.c.k. As he stroked himself to his favorite fantasy of her tying him down and f.u.c.king his brains out, he imagined her tight p.u.s.s.y caressing his c.o.c.k in place of his fingers. He pictured her hands gripping his face and kissing him like a boss. He squeezed his raging-hard c.o.c.k tighter and quickened the pace at the image of her taking control. Thoughts of her wrestling power away from him like that made his b.a.l.l.s tighten against his body as his c.o.c.k swelled in his hand. With the image of her face in his mind, his nerve endings snapped, setting off a chain reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut when the first wave slammed him, forcing him to arch his back. He stroked faster as a second wave hit, and his d.i.c.k erupted, spraying s.e.m.e.n onto his belly and chest. He fought to catch his breath and slowed his strokes as his c.o.c.k softened.

"Rio," he whispered as he relaxed. "I've missed you."

Chapter 2.

El Casa De Alacran Nacozari de Garcia, Sonora, Mexico 174 km from the United States border June 3, 2010/1243 Zulu Ignacio "Alacran" Montenegro sat alone at the table on the patio and closed his eyes briefly as he absorbed the peaceful atmosphere. The table was neatly set for breakfast, and the sounds of the early morning desert filled the air around him. He had a long, hectic day ahead, because his multimillion-dollar empire required his attention almost twenty-four hours a day.

He sipped his mango juice. Yesterday had been a bad day and had caused a rife between him and the man coming to join him.

"Nacho, your guest has arrived." Umberto had been Nacho's servant since boyhood and one of the very few permitted to address Ignacio by his childhood nickname.

"Show him in."

When he returned, he seated Minister Nayyaf Bakri at the table. Nacho observed the man for a moment before speaking. He noticed his guest had become drawn and tired, so unlike the fervor and pa.s.sion he'd demonstrated in past meetings. Yesterday, he'd been angry at the abduction of his secretary. Nevertheless, this man needed him right now. Nacho had been following his dealings with some amus.e.m.e.nt. Bakri clearly didn't understand the inner workings of the cartel. He believed politics governed them. At times, it did, but mostly it came down to an organization with the stomach to do unconscionable violence at the blink of an eye. Nacho played for much higher stakes with swift consequences for the wrong move.

"Minister Bakri, can I get you something?" he asked pleasantly.

"Since we were interrupted yesterday, I just need you to get something to New York for me in a couple of months," Bakri replied shortly.

"Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

"No. Thank you."

"And what is it this time?"

"The case of weapons I had sent here."

The minister had the look of a man whose confidence had been shaken. Nacho didn't need to ask what had changed him. He knew exactly what had happened-the minister had become a hunted man. The debacle of a rival gang kidnapping his secretary had shaken him even further. They were still waiting for a ransom request. He'd already given the order to get to the bottom of yesterday's breach in his security. He would fix it, and it would never happen again. Before he made any sort of agreement with Bakri, he needed to find out what sort of trouble this man had brought with him before he made another decision regarding their relationship.

"What's wrong minister? What sort of trouble have you brought to my door?" Nacho asked.

"Can you do this or not?" Bakri asked.

Nacho c.o.c.ked his head and raised an eyebrow at the tone of the outburst. The expression that crossed Bakri's face told him the minister realized his mistake by the way he shrank back in his chair. "Forgive me. It's been a long trip, and I'm very tired. Everything seems to be going wrong," Bakri said.

"Forgiven and forgotten." Nacho waved off the comment indicating his forgiveness. "You should rest here. We're safe from prying eyes." Watching Bakri relax he continued, "Minister, perhaps we can help each other. I'm also in need of a.s.sistance."

"Anything, my old friend, but this shipment must leave as soon as I send word. I hope you understand the urgency," Bakri said.

The minister sounded like his old self, indicating he'd let down his guard. Nacho waved to his servant.

"Umberto, set a place for Minister Bakri, and serve him breakfast. I'm sure you remember what he prefers." Nacho turned to Bakri. "Of course, I understand. The box you sent is safe in my warehouse, I checked it this morning. Are you sure you can't stay a few days?"

Bakri looked around. "It is peaceful here. Perhaps I will delay my trip back to Houston and stay with you, my friend. I could use the rest, and we can discuss what I can do for you."

Nacho's smile hid a deep sadness. "My daughter disappeared twenty years ago when the Americans invaded Panama. I found out she'd gone to a boarding school here in Mexico. The Americans who took her changed her ident.i.ty, and she disappeared. I haven't heard anything of her in eleven years. The last time anyone saw her, she was with one of the Americans who'd taken her from Panama."

Chapter 3.

State Highway 80 South Tombstone, Arizona June 15, 2010/0114 Zulu "Are you kidding me? Where the h.e.l.l are the gas stations and McDonald's in this state? Christ! I thought you were kidding when you told me Benson was the last stop." Friday was definitely aggravated.