Falcon's Prey
Falcon’s Prey
A Blackthorne, Inc. Novel
Terry Odell
Copyright © 2018 by Terry Odell
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Falcon's Prey (Blackthorne, Inc.)
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
A Note From the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Further Reading: In Hot Water
Also By Terry Odell
To the real Marv Frish. What a small world we live in.
Falcon’s Prey
Chapter 1
MARV FRISCH—FISH TO the team—crouched by the open door of the Blackthorne helo, waiting for the Go signal. The rotors whirred, the floor vibrated beneath his feet. Although Fish knew they were descending, the unsettling feeling the ground was rising had him gripping the edge of the door. Rocks, cactus, and dead grass. The Colorado prairie in March. Fish shivered, wishing he’d worn thermals under his standard cargo pants.
Adam, aptly nicknamed Dapper Dan—team leader for this op—tapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s do it.”
Fish tossed the rope out the door. A quick eighty-foot ride to the ground. Kein Problem, as his nana would say.
He secured his pack, then wrapped his feet around the rope, grabbed on, and stepped into the wind. Descending the rope, he imagined he was a fireman sliding down a brass pole. A fantasy of his youth.
He hit the ground, rolled, and jumped to his feet, fighting the whipping winds.
Dapper Dan and Olivia followed seconds behind him.
“Ranch is a click over there.” Dapper Dan pointed toward the west, where Chloe, the woman they’d been sent to rescue, was being held by a local cattle baron.
As they moved off at an easy jog toward their destination, Fish dodged yet another patch of cactus. Good motivation for staying on one’s feet in this eroded rocky terrain. Another misconception that the plains were flat. He kept an eye out for rattlesnakes. Because they didn’t come out in full force until summer didn’t mean there weren’t any early risers basking in the sun.
Olivia fell in beside him. “I still say it would’ve been better if our cover was ranch hands. Then we could ride in on horseback.”
Maybe Olivia could, but Fish had grown up a city boy. Horses were not in his wheelhouse. Or barnhouse. Or any house.
“Or in pickup trucks as a maintenance crew for the wind turbines,” Fish said. The massive three-bladed structures lined the hilltops, looking like propellers that had lost their airplanes. He bounded across a shallow ditch, dodging more cactus. The morning sun and exercise warmed him, and he was glad he hadn’t bothered with the thermals.
They descended into a gully. Dapper Dan called a halt, checked his GPS. “The house is over the next rise. Olivia, you ready?”
She unzipped her camo coveralls, revealing painted-on jeans and a tight, low-cut sweater. From her pack, she took a wig of long, red curls and tucked her own short brown hair inside. She traded her all-terrain boots for sneakers.
“What? No stilettos?” Fish asked, making sure his gaze strayed no lower than Olivia’s eyes.
“Intel said this sleaze isn’t a leg man.” Olivia punctuated her answer with a slug to Fish’s biceps.
“Now, now, children. Play nice.” Dapper Dan smoothed his prematurely silver hair, although Fish couldn’t see a single strand out of place. Fish had a hunch the man had his camos tailored.
As Olivia made her way up the ravine, Fish took half a moment to enjoy her tight ass.
Dapper Dan stood beside him for several seconds, then punched him exactly where Olivia had. “Hotshot even thinks you’re looking at her that way, you’re dead meat. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of the team medic.”
Fish rubbed his biceps. “One quick look. Normal male response. Reflex. Hard-wired. I know she’s off limits, and unless you tell Hotshot, no harm, no foul. I won’t say anything about the way you watched her leave.”
“Making sure she’s safe. Part of my job as team leader.”
“Yeah, right,” Fish muttered.
After stashing the unneeded packs and gear for Cheese to collect, Fish and Dapper Dan set out, circling around for the equipment barn fifty yards from the rear of the house. In and out like the wind.
Except sometimes the wind turned into a tornado.
Fish and Dapper Dan arrived at the structure. Metal roof, faded red wooden siding. The doors stood open, efficient for people moving tractors and other ranch vehicles.
Inside, the trap door was where the plans said it would be, and they descended the ladder, Dapper Dan in the lead. Through the tunnel, which opened into the basement of the main house. Stealth-walking, they traversed the route. Chilly. Damp. Smelling of dirt. But out of the wind.
Once they arrived, Dapper Dan tried the door. Locked. His skill with the picks had it open in minutes. He nodded to Fish, who had his sidearm at the ready. Dapper Dan’s picks went in their case, then into a pocket of his cargo pants. He drew his weapon. “Let’s do it.”
Dapper Dan eased the door open.
Fish peered around him.
What the plans hadn’t shown was the man sitting on the couch watching television with a shotgun across his lap.
A door at the other side of the room opened. The cattle baron manhandled Olivia inside. Per instructions not to take solo action, her protests were predominantly vocal, and her struggles half-hearted.
Dapper Dan backed up a pace, leaving the door cracked a fraction of an inch. He pointed to the cattle baron holding Olivia, then Fish.
“On three,” he mouthed, counting down with his fingers.
As one, they burst inside.
The cattle baron, who was built like one of the steers he raised, jerked his head in their direction. Olivia struggled, but the man never loosened his grip.
Plenty of practice wrestling those steers to the ground, Fish surmised.
Dapper Dan disarmed the man with the shotgun as Fish moved toward Olivia.
Given Fish was armed and the baron wasn’t, it should’ve been a quick surrender. Not quite in and out like the wind, but things were what they were, and in his short time with Blackthorne, Fish had learned ops rarely went as expected.
“Let her go,” Fish said to the cattle baron, pointing his weapon at the man’s head.
Dapper Dan’s command to the other man to drop his gun thundered out. The good news was the sound of the shotgun striking the floor rather than the boom of it being fired. Dapper Dan hated it when he had to fight—messed up his clothes and hair.
The cattle baron wasn’t as cooperative. At this range, Fish couldn’t miss hitting him, but the man was using Olivia as a shield. Fish trusted Dapper Dan to secure his man and back him up shortly. Footfalls at his side said shortly was now.
Without so much as a warning tell, the cattle baron shoved Olivia at him and Dapper Dan, then bolted.
Olivia stumbled. Fish lost his balance, losing precious seconds.
Dapper Dan caught Olivia. “Go,” he said to Fish.
Fish darted after the rancher, following the clomping of his boots, as the man disappeared into the maze of the house.
Fish halted. Took a moment to reorient himself based on the floorplans they’d studied. Would the rancher have run for cover? Gone for weapons? Or was he heading for his captive?
“Leave him.” Dapper Dan’s voice came through Fish’s ra
dio earwig. “Get Chloe.”
“Olivia?” Fish asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “We’re on our way.”
On their way where? Intel said Chloe should’ve been in the room they’d entered.
FISH TURNED, RETRACED his steps. Dapper Dan and Olivia—a bruise forming on her right cheekbone—strode toward him.
“Follow me,” Dapper Dan said.
Letting Olivia precede him, Fish fell in, eyes darting from side to side along the hallway, his weapon ready. Dapper Dan darted through a rustic dining room, through the kitchen, and into a pantry. He shoved aside an empty shelving unit, revealing a metal door.
The three of them went through. Fish took in the space. Spotted their asset. Along with six other women, some who were barely out of their teens. Movie cameras on tripods, lights on stands surrounded a huge bed with ornate metal head and footboards in the center of the room.
Fish’s stomach churned. He’d seen scenes like this as a cop. One of the reasons he’d left the force.
Olivia had her phone out, snapping pictures.
Dapper Dan moved toward the woman they’d been sent to retrieve. “Chloe?” he said.
She nodded.
“Your father sent us.”
“What about the others?” Olivia asked. “We can’t leave them here.”
“She’s right,” Fish said. “But the helo can’t handle all of them.”
Dapper Dan spoke into his mic, telling Cheese to arrange for backup. “Ladies. Come with us. Be quick.”
“Is there another way out?” Fish asked.
A petite blonde, who couldn’t be more than twelve, with heavy eye makeup and bright red lipstick, pointed to a black curtain next to the bed.
Dapper Dan marched to the curtain and yanked it aside, revealing a wooden pocket door which rolled silently along its track.
Olivia shepherded two of the women through the doorway. Fish took three, and Dapper Dan the last two, which included their asset.
“Where does this go?” Fish asked. Nothing like walking into an ambush.
“Where they keep us,” Chloe said. “A dorm. Used to be a barn.”
“No other outlets?” Olivia said.
“No,” Chloe said. “There’s a door to the outside, but it’s in the building. Lots of tornadoes in this county, so the ranch has underground access points.”
They followed the tunnel to its end, which led to another pocket door. Dapper Dan motioned the women to hold back. “Wait here until we give the all clear.”
Dapper Dan relayed their whereabouts to Cheese, who said he’d rendezvous as close as he could get. Fish knew once they were in the barn, Cheese would pick up their heat signatures.
Fish took his position, keeping the women between him and the dorm, eyes and ears tuned to anyone approaching from the way they’d come. Since the cattle baron hadn’t gone straight to his porn studio, Fish assumed he’d gone for reinforcements.
Fish sensed the stirrings behind him as the women whispered to each other.
From the shouting inside the dorm, Dapper Dan and Olivia were confronting adversaries. Much as Fish itched to help his teammates, he’d wait for orders to do so. Meanwhile, he reminded his flock to stay together and under no circumstances, to enter the dorm.
He doubted the rancher’s people would harm their charges, but Fish didn’t want any of the women caught in the crossfire.
He hoped there’d be no fire, cross or otherwise. Explaining bodies to the local authorities, even bad guy bodies, usually brought stern words from Blackthorne’s command. Dalton was a major proponent of scamming over shooting. His orders had stressed minimal damage.
When a lone gunman approached, Fish gripped his weapon. Instead of backing away, he rushed the man, who clearly hadn’t expected the aggressive move.
Fish grabbed the man’s rifle, twisted it out of his hands and, acting on pure faith, slid it into the group of women. “Don’t shoot,” he commanded. “Just hang on to it.”
The former gunman was clearly not a fighter. A quick elbow to the ribs, a kick to his knees, and Fish had the man subdued and cuffed.
He dragged the gunman to the wall and keyed his mic. “Dapper Dan. I’m clear. Need any help?”
Amidst the grunts and sounds of flesh hitting flesh, objects crashing to the floor, Fish caught what he interpreted as a yes. The man he’d captured had no radio, no way to communicate with his comrades, so Fish, again telling the women to stay put, entered the room.
Five men, plus Dapper Dan and Olivia. Tight quarters. Furniture knocked over. Books on the floor. No sign of the cattle baron, who was probably removing traces of his operation and salvaging his videos.
Fish moved to back up Olivia. These guys weren’t trained fighters, but they were mad and making the best possible use of their fists, elbows, and feet. One seemed to prefer the head butt. Fish did note that none were armed—anymore. A shotgun, two revolvers, and two rifles were against the wall.
“Don’t ask,” Dapper Dan said. “They did not follow my orders to get their hands in the air.”
So, had they rushed Dapper Dan and Olivia the way Fish had surprised his man? Or had Dapper Dan Done a Dalton and convinced them it was in their best interest to drop their arms?
As one of Olivia’s opponents shifted his gaze toward Fish, she grabbed her assailant by the forearm, twisted it behind his back, and had him cuffed on the floor in a heartbeat.
“Heads up,” Dapper Dan yelled.
Fish turned his attention to a meek-looking man coming at him with both hands outstretched. The man drew closer, and Fish used his gun to whack the guy’s wrist. A cracking sound said he’d broken a few bones. Didn’t mean Fish wasn’t going to secure him.
Two down, three to go.
Fish moved toward Olivia, whose moves seemed to be slowing. Had she taken a hit or two? Her opponent, although taller than she was, had the slender build of a long-distance runner. Olivia should have been able to flip him onto the floor with barely a look.
“Need some help?” For all Fish knew, Olivia was faking weakness to catch the man off guard. His musings were interrupted by another shout from Dapper Dan.
Fish spun, lowered his head and caught the beefy man lumbering toward him in the solar plexus. With a whoosh of exhaled air, the man crumpled. Fish rested his foot on the man’s back and gave another glance at Olivia, who waved him off.
Fish used his last pair of flex cuffs immobilizing his man. Dapper Dan was in control of his opponent, so Fish, despite Olivia’s saying she was fine, moved to assist.
“Let me,” Fish said. “I’ve got a few aggressions looking for a scapegoat.”
He threw a sidekick to the back of the guy’s knee. The man staggered. Dapper Dan stepped over, caught him as he collapsed, and that was that.
“We need to get the women out of here. Quick,” Dapper Dan said. “Cheese will land behind the ranch house. The authorities are on their way.”
Fish nodded, having heard the same transmission from Cheese. He dashed to the tunnel and motioned the women into the room. They were safe, and soon would be in the hands of people who could help them. Nobody had been shot or killed. A Blackthorne win, albeit a semi-sloppy one.
Olivia staggered on the way to the rendezvous point. Dapper Dan grabbed her elbow, turned her to face him. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing.” She touched her cheekbone with a fingertip, rubbed her head. “A little bump when the rancher grabbed me.”
Dapper Dan fished a penlight out of a pocket. Shone it in Olivia’s eyes. Activated his mic. “Cheese. Get the medics here stat. Olivia needs to be checked out.”
Chapter 2
FLASHING LIGHTS ANNOUNCED the arrival of a convoy of law enforcement vehicles, ambulances, and television news vans. Fish wondered whether the reporters were here at Blackthorne’s request, or if they’d shown up on their own. Dalton disliked the media almost as much as Dapper Dan hated getting his hair mussed.
Dapper Dan stepped to a black and white car with Sheriff emblazoned on the side. A man in a muddy-colored uniform exited the vehicle and Dapper Dan chatted with him a moment, gesturing to the women, who were huddled together, heads lowered. The deputy nodded, glanced around at the other department sedans, then straightened his spine and strode toward the women. Without much fanfare, they were loaded for transport, some in the sheriff’s department cars, some in the ambulances.