The additional troops arrived sooner instead of later but it was no boon to Dino and his men. Getting a drift of what was going on, the military poised to move in. Suspecting this, Dino stationed his team as close to the perimeter of the camp as possible. Both Friday and Grant actually infiltrated and the men returned with not only intel, but one hell of a suggestion.

“Simple, we tell them,” Grant grinned.

“Tell ‘em what?” Dino was getting that jittery feeling in his gut, the one that traveled all the way to his balls and told him action was coming and coming fast.

“We tell them the army’s here, we tell them the cops are here.”

“Then what? They scatter like rats?”  Goshim hissed. “Even with the additional men, there’s no way we can catch them all.”

Dino’s lips pulled into a grin. “We only need to catch one of them. Funnel them this way?”

Grant chuckled. “Hell no. We’ll send them all running through the pass. Menendez will run the other way. That bastard could give a shit less about his men. But, we gotta do this fast, before he gets his hands on Luc Ramirez. That’s where we’ll get what we need on Carlos and the ETA. You gonna warn the Basque cops and troops?”

“Hell no,” Dino waved the rest of his men closer. “No goodwill sharing going on here. They aren’t warning us about anything. They’re on their own and so are we. They can handle themselves. You and me, Grant, we’ll go down there and put on a good act. You follow Carlos and I’ll go in for Terry. Goshim, you and Friday stick close, I’ll radio you when I’m ready to retrieve the cargo. You alert the bird. We’re coming out of this with everything we need.”

Funny how men who don’t even like to go to movies and have no respect for actors can play an Oscar worthy roll when necessary. Dino and Zack Grant moseyed into camp exactly as the other late stragglers had. They followed the same routine, collected a bottle of water from the mess tent, grinned and waved like they were meeting old buddies then Dino nodded and Grant fell right into his roll.

He suddenly dropped to his knees and poised his rifle into the western hills. A shout, a shot and holy bedlam ensued. Grant then scanned the frenzied men, located Carlos Menendez easily enough and rushed protectively to his side. He pointed away from the pass and for a brief moment expected that he just might have to put a bullet hole into Terry’s future brother-in-law.

Men swarmed, the army was moving down from the rocks and battle was raging crazier than Custer’s last stand. Grant took his act a step further. He pulled the perfect every man for himself attitude and simply shrugged than ran east. He didn’t even have to look back to know Carlos was on his tail. They ran low and fast, slithered behind a cropping of shrubs and rocks then without even turning to take a shot at the pursuers, sped down the hill and right into Goshim’s waiting lair.

“Carlos Menendez, you bastard. You sure have caused a lot of shit, my man,” chuckled Goshim as they disarmed the terrorist and knocked him to the hard packed dusty ground. The prisoner as trussed and whisked away long before the military or police even began to search for him in the hundred men they’d captured.

***

Terry heard the ruckus outside the cave and knew instinctively that his own men were behind it. He grinned and grunted to his feet. The swelling in his ankle had gone down. Good news, not even a bad sprain, but still the foot was too weak to put all his weight on it. He leaned against the wall of the pit and poised his flashlight. Turning it on, he aimed up, waving the beam of light. Feet ran and poor Luc Ramirez cried out from behind his locked cell. The idiots left him unguarded. Or …

He heard shouts, shuffles, grunts then several shots rang and echoed through the caves. Then silence. He held his breath, continued to shine the flashlight beam up and prayed. Let the bloody enemy find him, he needed to get his sorry arse up there and see if one of his men was down in that scuffle.

Another weakened cry from Ramirez. Terry’s heart sank. The sound of live fire outside the cave was dying away. He had to know what the fuck was going on. He re-aimed the flashlight to assess the width and depth of the ledge he was perched upon. Not nearly wide enough for him to get leverage to pull himself out of the hole. In fact, it was so narrow, he wondered how he’d managed not to slip off and pummel to his death. A shot of light below and he shuddered. Couldn’t even see the bottom.

Another shift and he focused the light up and right onto the dirty face of grinning red-haired leprechaun. “Ya bastard,” he gasped. “You tryin’ to scare the bloody hell outta me?”

Dino reached down. The men gripped hands tight at the wrists and Terry struggled his way to the surface. He drew in a long, deep breath of cool air and looked around.

“Here,” Dino pushed a strong branch into Terry’s hand. “Use that, Ter. I need your help to get Ramirez.”

Ignoring the pain, Terry drew his pistol and followed his partner. They shot the heavy padlock off and Dino kicked the door in. Luc Ramirez had passed out cold and by the looks of him, Terry couldn’t believe the man had remained conscious for so long.

The cargo over Dino’s shoulder, they moved as quickly as possible through the caves, careful to avoid Terry’s former pit and able to reach the opening with little incident.

“Bugger!” Terry hissed, stepped out and swung the handle of his pistol hard enough to knock the last remaining guard out cold. Dino kicked the man aside and rushed past Terry and east. There was still some fighting to the west. Terry didn’t even ask.

“Army and cops,” Dino offered and grunted under his burden. “Planned to go in without asking our opinion.”

Terry snorted a laugh. “So, ya sent the bad guys into the trap and popped on in to save me and Luc here? Now that’s playin’ fair.”

“Grant’s idea. You can reprimand him later. We’ve already got Carlos. Hurry.”

The slope became steep and Terry gave up trying to negotiate the terrain, dropped to his behind and slid the last twenty yards right past Dino. The chopper was waiting. It was completed. One ugly, but successful mission.

Sort of.

***

The safe house was an abandoned warehouse at the ports, not far from San Sebastian. In one room Luc Ramirez was receiving medical care and still unconscious but the medic assured them he would live. Good news and bad news. They could only keep his rescue and Menendez’ capture a secret for so long before the police and local military pulled rank. They needed Ramirez awake and talking soon. The medics simply shrugged.

In another room, Zack Grant and the rest of the team monitored online and television coverage of the shootout in the mountains near Landarbaso. CNN reported ETA arrests and already correspondents from all over the world had begun to converge on San Sebastian to get the story. An internet news network headline announced that the ETA was broken with the surprising unconfirmed capture and/or death of Carlos Menendez, beloved performer thought kidnapped, but instead the long-time covert ETA leader. The story declared that the Basque Country was in turmoil.

Zack shook his head. “Poor Eva,” he groaned.

“Poor Terry,” snorted Goshim. “He’s gotta live with that bastard’s sister.”

In a third, smaller room sat Carlos Menendez, bound to a chair and alone. When the door opened, his eyes widened then narrowed. “Terry,” he grunted.

“Yeah.”

“Do not tell my sister of this,” he glared but it was obvious there was fear and heartbreak behind his belligerent expression.

“You fake a fuckin’ kidnapping. Who the bloody hell did you think was gonna come?”

“Do not tell Eva!”

“She already knows.” Terry’s head shook. He vibrated with anger, the heat twisting like smoke through his body. How could he have missed this? How could he have been so bloody blind? How could he have controlled the outcome? He could hardly think about Eva. Thanks to the media she was already aware of her brother’s betrayal or worse yet, fearful of being arrested herself.

“She knew nothing of this,” Carlos shouted.

Terry calmly walked around the chair as though his ankle was never injured. Amazing what pure fury can do to the body. His surge of adrenalin could have leveled the warehouse. His nostrils flared as he undid the cuffs at Carlos wrists and ankles. “Stand up.”

Menendez wasn’t a stupid man. “I want a lawyer.”

“You think this is a place you can make such a demand? No one,” Terry’s eyes could have shot fire, “no one, not the army, not the police, not even old Mrs. Cortez, knows where you are. No, you don’t get to ask for a lawyer. Stand up, ya bloody bastard.”

“Are you going to kill me Terry? Think of Eva! Think of –”

“Stand … up!”

The man wobbled to his feet. He looked like someone’s little brother, like a kid who’d been pampered and loved, treated with respect and given every opportunity in life. He looked like a child in need of approval, and a terrorist facing judgment. Carlos Menendez was responsible for literally hundreds of deaths over the last fifteen years.

And he was responsible for the fact that Eva was either involved … would be suspected of being involved … or on her way out of Terry Thorne’s life forever.

Terry swung his arm and struck the man, then wheeled his fist again and finally knocked Carlos to the floor, blood gushing from nose and lip as the spit out a tooth and groaned but remained down.

Terry walked out.

“You done?” Dino asked, leaning cross armed against the wall as Terry passed.

“Yeah. Ramirez?”

“Conscious and singing like a canary.”

“Inform the military we have them. Get the team together and send them all home. We’re fuckin’ finished here.”

***

The flight to the states was miserable. Terry’s ankle was wrapped but healing nicely. He’d had one and only one conversation with Eva and it didn’t go quite as he’d hoped. He begged her to remain at the Inn until he could meet her there, but she insisted on going back to their apartment in New York. With the surprise early arrival of Riley’s baby, no one was focused on the news about Carlos and she seemed to be hell bent on steering clear of their eminent questions.

Just before he boarded a plane in San Sebastian, he was informed that Eva was arrested at Kennedy International. She’d taken a commercial flight from Burlington to New York and the FBI was waiting for her. He spoke at length with the Feds and was assured she’d be treated well until he could get there. He knew the promise was made with a grain of salt, just as he should accept it. He also knew that they’d hold her to get him there. Unfair as it was, Terry Thorne, by association, was under suspicion of assisting the ETA, if not over the years, then possibly during his eighteen month relationship with Carlos Menendez’ sister.

The moment he deplaned in New York, he was met by two men.

“Mr. Thorne, I’m Agent Fuller and this is Agent Silanski.”

Terry took a deep breath. “All right.” He was prepared to be escorted to the Federal Building and interrogated but figured he’d get his turn to ask questions only if he did it quickly. “Eva?”

“Ms. Menendez has been questioned and released.” The men tucked away their ID, flashing weapons under their jackets in the process.

“Where is she?” Odd, they hadn’t led him anywhere yet. As a matter of fact, he’d fully expected to be cuffed.

“Ms. Menendez insisted we take her to your apartment in Manhattan.”

“She still there?”

Silanski raised a brow. “How should we know? Listen Thorne, it’s only out of professional courtesy we came to inform you at all. I’m off duty and Gary here has a wife about to pop with their fifth –”

“Sixth” Fuller corrected.

“Sixth kid. We questioned Ms. Menendez, we released her and took her there. There’s no need to question you at this time but I’d seriously suggest you and your fiancé stick close to town, just in case … ya know.”

Terry nodded and the Feds walked away.

He gathered his gear, cleared customs and hailed a cab. Checking his watch it had been over an hour since Fuller and Silanski’s chat with him. More than enough time for Eva to take her leave and even write a well punctuated Dear John letter, too. How much better would this have been if Terry did what he promised and walked away from K&R for good? He wasn’t concerned about himself, he had no involvement with the ETA and even the Feds knew it. Eva too was innocent. But if he wasn’t off trying to rescue Carlos, if he’d stayed at Eva’s side, if he wasn’t privy to the musician’s covert terrorist activity and his sister’s unconditional love … life might have worked out better. As it was …

Entering the apartment it was silent, almost dead. No messages blinked on the phone, not even a light in the darkness. He sighed, dropped his duffle and switched on a lamp. The place smelled stuffy and stale and he wondered if Eva even bothered to enter. Where would she go? Not back to San Sebastian, not after the FBI’s request. She had few friends in New York. Was she at a hotel? Should he try to find her?

A tear dripped from the corner of one eye. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t his. She had things to deal with and his closeness to the truth about Carlos was bound to make him an undesirable element. Best not to look for her. Best to just … do what he always did … just … move on.

With a groan he lifted his bag and went into the bedroom. Even in the darkness he knew, sensed, felt. “Eva?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“You okay, love?” His heart leaped for joy but her face, silhouetted against the dim light from the window was hidden to him. Only her sadness radiated. He wanted to run to her, hold her tight. His eyes scanned the room, expecting a stack of packed luggage but there was none. “Eva? Darlin’?”

She stood slowly and stepped into his open arms. Wrapping himself around her, he swallowed back a sob. Tears welled and dripped onto her head and against his chest, he could feel the wetness of her own tears.

“Hush, love. Hush.”

Eva trembled and gasped then cried out, releasing every bit of fear and anger she must have been holding back for days. Terry ran his hand in circles on her back and hugged her closer.

“Hush, love. We’re gonna get through this. Shhhh.”

“Carlos?”

Squeezing his eyes tight he felt himself tighten even more around her. “Carlos will never see the outside of a prison for as long as he lives, Eva.”

She nodded against his chest, cried more then raised her face to look into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Terry tried to smile. “Hurt my ankle. Looks like I won’t be takin’ those flamenco lessons I scheduled.”

Their lips met and he took her to the bed and loved her for all he was worth. It shouldn’t have worked out like that, not in Terry’s life. He never won, not like this. He had no delusions; there would be rough times ahead until Carlos faced his judgment. But at least they’d face the rough times together.

And Terry Thorne let his heart soften and mind roll to places he was afraid to ever tread again. Maybe Eva would still marry him. Maybe she’d raise a few nippers with him. Maybe it would all work out.

Maybe.

Maybe.