Chapter 12
Jake’s mind raced with terrifying, brutal clarity. The imposter had leverage, but he was isolated in the cab of the truck. If there were snipers, they wouldn't risk firing on the vehicle without visual confirmation.
"If you have snipers, Miller wouldn't be sitting in the diner exposed," Jake reasoned, his gun unwavering. "He thinks he holds all the cards. You didn't tell him you were a plant, did you?"
The imposter’s smile widened slightly. "As I said, Miller is a dog. You don't explain the hunt to the dog; you just point him at the prey."
"Then you are just as trapped as I am," Jake said. He didn't shoot. He violently slammed the butt of his pistol into the man’s temple, rendering the imposter instantly unconscious.
Jake bound the man's wrists and ankles with heavy-duty zip-ties from his tactical rig, shoving him onto the floorboards beneath the dashboard out of sight.
The burner phone in Jake’s pocket buzzed again.
"Jake," Miller’s voice echoed smoothly through the speaker. "The clock is ticking. Bring Ethan and the tag inside. We can all walk away from this."
"Ethan didn't make it, Colonel," Jake lied effortlessly, his voice tight and breathless, matching the panic of a man who had just lost a friend. "He succumbed to his injuries in the truck. He bled out."
Silence hung on the line.
"A tragedy," Miller said, his tone devoid of any genuine sorrow. "But you still have the tag, Lieutenant. Bring it inside. Alone."
"If I walk in there, you kill me and you kill them to tie up the loose ends," Jake said. "I want proof of life. Put Ava on the phone."
"I am afraid Ava is currently indisposed," Miller replied. "But I assure you, they are unharmed. For now."
"No proof of life, no tag," Jake warned. "I’ll drive this truck into the lake and take the microdot to the bottom with me."
"You wouldn't sacrifice the child," Miller countered, though a sliver of doubt crept into his voice.
"I spent thirteen years in the Teams, Miller," Jake said coldly. "I learned how to make unacceptable sacrifices. Let me hear her voice."
A muffled scuffle echoed over the line, followed by the sound of duct tape being ripped away.
"Jake!" Ava screamed, her voice raw with sheer, unadulterated terror. "Don't come in! They have thermite charges rigged to the doors! It's a trap!"
A heavy smack echoed over the phone, and Ava cried out in pain.
"You have five minutes, Lieutenant," Miller snapped, his polite facade shattering completely. "Before I start removing pieces of the widow."
The line went dead.
Jake didn't smash the phone. He carefully placed it on the passenger seat. His tactical mind had already processed Ava's warning. Thermite charges on the doors meant a fatal chokepoint. If he breached the front or back, he would burn before he took three steps.
He didn't need to use the doors.
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He looked at the rusted grain trailer parked behind the diner. He looked at the heavy, customized winch bolted to the front bumper of the stolen Ford truck.
He was going to bring the roof down.
