The brutal strike codena.., p.1
The Brutal Strike: Codename: Ophis (Apex Tactical Book 1), page 1
THE BRUTAL STRIKE
CODENAME: OPHIS
APEX TACTICAL
CANDICE WRIGHT
CONTENTS
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
Epilogue
Also by Candice Wright
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Brutal Strike Copyright © 2023
by Candice Wright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
Cover design by Dez Purington @ Pretty in Ink Creations
Editing by Tanya Oemig
Proof reading by Briann Graziano
Created with Vellum
For all the indie authors who paved the way for me.
CHAPTER ONE
Zig
I stand on the deck, looking out over the pasture to where the mountains touch the sky, and breathe in the early morning air. It’s cool out, but by noon the temperature is set to soar. I sip on my coffee and grimace at the taste. Looks like Oz has made the coffee again. He’s never happy unless his coffee is strong enough that he can hear colors after drinking it.
Sensing someone behind me, I turn just as Greg steps out onto the deck with his own coffee, looking like he’s barely had an hour of sleep.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Zig. You sure know how to kick a man when he’s down.”
He takes a sip of his coffee and chokes. “Jesus fuck. That tastes like rocket fuel. If my shit comes out black later, I’ll know why.”
I chuckle, forcing myself to down the rest of my coffee in one gulp so that I can’t taste it. I’ll need something to get me through the day. Something in the air tells me it’s going to be a long one.
“How’s your sister?”
“Still an old lady in an MC, jackass.”
“I was just asking, geez. Besides, I meant with the shit that just went down with her club.”
“She’s fine. Pissed but fine. You know Luna. It takes a lot to shake her.”
“I know.”
He’s quiet for a minute, but I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
“Just say whatever’s making you look constipated.”
He rolls his eyes before sipping his coffee and gagging. He pours it over the railing and looks down at the black puddle as if expecting to see the grass dissolve.
“All I was wondering was if she still wants to, you know, be a part of all this. It’s a demanding job, and with her having a kid now and a whole MC to wrangle, I’m just not sure how she’ll be able to commit as fully here as she did before.”
I don’t answer right away because he isn’t saying anything I haven’t already thought about myself.
When my grandfather was alive, he assembled a team of soldiers he had once served with, who came home from war feeling jaded and misplaced. He used them to do jobs that the government refused to do or couldn’t do thanks to red tape. Turns out, there was more of a demand for soldiers for hire than he expected, and as the profits grew, so did the need for more teams.
That’s when Apex Tactical was born.
By the time he passed, he had seven teams working for him, five here at Apex and two who worked remotely, not to mention a pretty penny in the bank.
The ranch and all the surrounding land here was where he raised me, my twin brother Oz, and our little sister Luna, but it also doubled as our headquarters. It was completely off the grid, had more technology than NASA, and was harder to break into than the Pentagon.
After our parents died and Gramps took us in, life was different for us. It was unconventional, to say the least. I’ll be the first to admit my grandfather was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but as boys, we reveled in it. We played in the mud and learned to hunt as well as assemble and disassemble an AK-47 in under a minute and a half, along with the best ways to dispose of a body. So, just your typical American upbringing.
Not wanting to go straight into the family business without a little crash course in the real world, my brother and I enlisted. We learned a lot being soldiers for Uncle Sam. Like what it feels like to get assfucked without lube.
We both did ten years and two back-to-back tours in Afghanistan before we truly understood that we didn’t like following orders, especially when we disagreed with them. We came back to the ranch and let Luna—who is arguably more unstable than both Oz and me combined—run the show while we did what we do best: shoot shit and kill people.
Now, though, it seems like we’re on the edge of change once again. Though I knew it would inevitably come one day, I’m not sure I’m ready.
“It’s something we need to talk about, but you’re right. She has other priorities right now, and that’s the way it should be. We need to start taking that pressure off her and thinking about changing things up here. Luna will always be a part of what we’ve created, but she’s always been destined for bigger things than this ranch.”
He’s quiet, staring out at the view, when we hear whistling behind us.
Oz walks up to the opposite side of Greg and drinks his coffee with an appreciative moan.
“Man, that’s good. What are you assholes talking about?”
“Luna.”
“Ah. She finally called it quits with those dicks and decided to come home, huh?”
“No.”
He sighs, sounding put out. “I don’t know where we went wrong with her. I really don’t.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t leave us sooner or, you know, kill you in your sleep.”
“She tried a few times, remember? But I have the reflexes of a cat.”
“And the lives of one too.” Greg laughs before his cell bleeps. Two seconds later, mine does too. I don’t look at it, recognizing the tone—it's command central.
I look at Oz, who huffs. “It’s upstairs. I forgot to charge it again.”
“But I bet you remembered to strap on a gun and at least two tactical knives.”
“Of course I did. You never know when you’ll need them. And I have three knives, actually.”
I shake my head and walk inside. You never know when you might need a cell phone, either. I mean, most people would check for their phone and keys, but not Oz. He’ll check for weapons and ammo.
I hear Greg and Oz follow me through the house. When I get to the basement door, I type in the code and wait for the beep signaling that it’s unlocked. I shove it open and walk down the stairs, finding Cooper—Greg’s team mate—already sitting at the huge round table with Wilder and Crew beside him. Evander, our tech guy, looks up from his tablet when we enter before his eyes drop back down to the screen.
“Hey. Got a case?” I ask, taking my seat.
“Looks like it. I’m just waiting for the others to get here,” Cooper says, looking at his watch.
“Are Creed and Hawk back yet?”
“No. Their flight isn’t due until tonight, and Moscow has been hit with a heavy snowstorm, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were delayed.”
Greg and Oz take their seats as more footsteps sound on the stairs. I look up and nod at Jagger and Slade before taking my own seat at the table.
“Alright, everyone’s here.” Cooper stands up and, as usual, takes point.
“At oh-six-hundred, a job came through with a top-level security clearance.”
“Don’t mean shit to us. The government can suck my dick,” Jagger grunts.
“I pretty much said the same.”
“So if you told them to go fuck themselves, why are we here?” I ask, leaning forward as Evander taps something on his tablet.
“Because instead of backing off, they offered me lube.”
“Huh?” Oz says, looking confused.
“They eased you in, meaning they made an exception to the clearance level. Why?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to know too. We all know they won’t do anything for
“Alright, I’ll bite. What did you find that had me dragging my ass out of bed when I was dreaming about Jagger’s mama?” Crew drawls.
Jagger picks up the pen from in front of him and launches it at Crew’s head. Naturally, Crew catches it before it hits him, pocketing the pen for later.
“If you don’t mind, children?” Cooper sighs, turning to face the large screen behind him as it flickers to life.
A picture of a woman stares back at us. Not just any woman, but possibly the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. It’s a headshot, so I have no idea what she looks like below her shoulders, but what I can see has my dick waking up and waving hello.
“Who is she?” I bark as I take her in.
She has golden-tanned skin, high cheekbones, full, lush, dusty pink lips, and warm, honey-colored hair that reaches past her shoulders. What catches my attention the most and refuses to let me look away from her are her eyes.
One eye is a vivid green, and the other is the color of warm chocolate with a streak of copper bisecting it. They’re hypnotic.
“This is Salem Harris. She is twenty-eight years old and employed by the government, though they didn’t tell me in what capacity or what she did for them, and I can’t find a record of her anywhere.”
“A spook?” I ask, my eyes not leaving the bewitching ones of the woman on the screen.
“If she were a spy, I doubt they would be trying to get her back. You know as well as I do that if she were caught by the enemy, the government would deny all knowledge of her,” Cooper states.
“So if they want her back, then she either has information that they don’t want falling into the wrong hands or—” Oz starts, but I cut him off.
“Or she has something they want.”
“Exactly,” Evander agrees before clicking to the next image, which is of a large compound with armed guards surrounding it.
“This is the Ortiz compound. It’s located just outside of Guatemala City in the foothills of the Sierra de las Nubes.”
“Cartel?” Creed asks.
“Yep. Seems there has been a coup. The former leader, Gerardo Ortiz, has been overthrown by his son, Alejandro, who is now in charge.”
“And to celebrate, he decided to kidnap a US government official?” Jagger snorts.
“Could be that she was already inside as a plant. Either her cover has been blown—and if that’s the case, then this won’t be a rescue mission but a recovery mission—or she can’t make contact back home without exposure,” Cooper says, making my gut clench.
“Is there proof of life?” Oz asks, frowning.
“No. Nobody has heard or seen anything of Salem in over three months.”
“Three months? Are they fucking serious?” Crew curses.
“Something about all this doesn’t add up,” Greg points out.
“I agree, but if this is some kind of set-up, who is the target? Salem, us, or Alejandro Ortiz?”
Nobody answers as we all try to put the pieces together. The problem is, we just don’t have enough to go on.
“I can decline the job. I’m afraid to put us in a situation with next to no information and that many unfriendlies on the ground,” Cooper says, breaking the silence, as he leans back in his chair and looks around the table at us all.
“But if this is real and Salem is in trouble, we’re the only shot at freedom she has.” Oz is the one to say what I’m thinking.
I look over at him, and when he nods, I turn back to Cooper. “We’ll do it. Oz and me.”
“You sure? You’ve had a lot going on lately. I was thinking that me and—”
“I said we’ll do it. Send everything you have to my tablet, plus whatever else you managed to dig up because I know those fuckers only gave you the bare minimum.” I say the last part to Evander, who nods.
“You got it. I’ll also tell them it’s payment upfront. The government is more crooked than most criminals I know.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Slade mumbles. And he’d know after spending ten years behind bars for something he didn’t do. He still had to fight for restitution and to clear his name when a decorated officer framed him for the murder of his wife. Instead of a public apology, they tried to hush it all up. Funnily enough, Slade wasn’t okay with that.
I stand, and with a final look at the Ortiz compound, I head up to my room to pack.
I yank my bag down from the top shelf of my closet as Oz walks in and sits on the end of my bed.
“You felt it too, right?” he asks me.
I could play dumb, but that’s more Oz’s role than mine. And for once, he’s being serious.
“Yeah. I felt it. I just hoped it was indigestion,” I admit, which makes him grin.
“Indigestion of the dick, maybe. Because I’m sure my loins were burning.”
I shove him off the bed and ignore him while he laughs, opening my sock drawer and tossing a few pairs into my bag.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Lack of oxygen to the brain, probably from sharing a womb with your fat ass for nine months. All jokes aside, do you think she’s still alive?”
I think back to the picture of Salem Harries, the woman with the fascinating eyes, and find myself hoping she is.
“I don’t know, Oz, but there’s a chance.”
“Yeah. I guess so, even if that chance is one in a million.”
CHAPTER TWO
Salem
I lean my head against my knees and sing softly to myself, focusing on the words instead of the screaming around me.
I’m dissociating. I’ve read enough self-help books to know. I just don’t care. We all have coping mechanisms, and if pretending I’m somewhere else, far, far away from the cell I’m currently sitting in, keeps my mental breakdown at bay, then so be it.
Laughter threatens to pull me back to the here and now, so I slide my hands over my ears and close my eyes tightly. Like a toddler, I almost hope that if I can’t see or hear them, they won’t be able to see or hear me either. I know that’s just wishful thinking. I can obscure my sight by closing my eyes, but I can’t block out the sounds. Still, when I hear the clank of the lock, I keep myself small, hopeful they won’t spot me in the corner.
When a rough hand grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, I don’t put up a fight. I don’t have the strength anymore, and fighting never worked out very well for me before. I let the angry man yelling at me in rapid Spanish drag me from the room, wincing when the darkness gives way to blinding light.
More Spanish, more yelling, and then I’m tossed to the stone floor. I scrape the skin off my palms, catching myself, but I don’t react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“Look at me,” a soft voice laced with mockery commands.
His voice doesn’t go with his face, I think as I lift my head and stare into the eyes of a man I loathe with every fiber of my being.
Alejandro Ortiz may have a softly spoken voice, but that is the only thing soft about the man. He is evil to the core. He’s seven years younger than me, but when I’m in his presence, I’m the one that feels like a scared, vulnerable child.
“Salem, Salem, Salem. You know it doesn’t have to be this way.” He lifts his hand in a what you gonna do gesture.
“If you become my wife, you will never know a day of poverty again. I will provide for you.” He slams his hand against his chest. “I will fight for you. I will protect you.” He thumps his hand against his chest each time he speaks.
“You know why I can’t,” I whisper, feeling the coils of his anger whip through the air. The others in the room tense in fear as they watch and wait.
