Dahlia went for the roof, the safest place she could think of while she sorted things out. They had little time. Either the NCIS had traced the call to ascertain her whereabouts, or someone else had done so, someone who wanted her dead. Either way, it was more than likely they would have company very quickly. She pressed her hands to her face, forcing the air through her lungs. Her life had been turned upside down in a few short days. She’d had no real time to think, or plan. She just kept moving to stay alive. She hadn’t even been able to grieve properly for Milly or Bernadette.
She felt for the familiar comfort of the amethyst spheres in her pocket. She had to focus on the mission. Before anything else, she needed clothing. Everything she owned was gone, blown up along with her home. She’d need to use the money Jesse had stashed in the safe house for clothes. She knew the importance of blending into her surroundings.
Dahlia lifted her face to the slight breeze coming in off the water and listened to the comforting sounds of the bayou. All the while she knew a part of her was waiting for Nicolas to come to her, and that frightened her more than the coming trouble. Music drifted up to her, cheery, upbeat strains of reggae. Gator began to sing. She watched as he pulled out a grill and began to prepare for a barbecue. It was strange to sit up on a roof and think that she might actually be part of something like a backyard barbecue.
Dahlia watched the men gather around Gator as he drew the outline of the small island in the dirt beside the grill with a long stick. Gator drew in the shoreline and trees. Nicolas stepped up to study it. Dahlia strained to hear them over the music. None of them seemed to care whether she heard or not as they planned what appeared to be a defense against an invasion.
“We’ll want to know where they’re going to come in. Gator, you know the island best, as well as the terrain. Let’s choose our spot and direct them to an appropriate landing area,” Nicolas instructed. He glanced up at Dahlia and winked.
Somehow, under the circumstances, she didn’t find it all that reassuring.
“Away from the cabin,” Gator said. “We’ll have to block off a couple of the landing areas using natural barriers as roadblocks so they don’t get suspicious. I’ve got a few signs that will scare them off anyplace we want to protect.”
“We’ll want to draw them into a natural ambush area. Set up a few claymore mines with trip wires,” Nicolas said.
“I’ll cook,” Sam offered. “Ian knows his way around the claymore mines. Besides, he likes all those bugs in the swamp.”
Nicolas ignored him. “We’ll need trip flares set up anywhere there’s a possible landing site where they can sneak up on us. Tucker, you want to take care of that? I’ll need the rest of you to help with barriers once Gator gives us a location for the ambush. I want this tight, no mistakes. Let’s limit where they can come onto the island as best we can. We want them all in the same spot before we spring the trap.”
Gator’s stick continued to draw lines. “This is the canal. I’m thinking we set up shop here, Nico. It’s not too marshy, and they’ll be more apt to choose to walk through it then some of the other spots. They’ll think the bushes will be to their advantage as well, but they’ll be in a box. Half a mile up is a rock face and we can close in on either side and behind them.”
Nicolas studied the map drawn into the dirt from every angle. “It’s a go then. We have to take out the dock, Gator, otherwise, they may try a frontal attack using a mortar to take out the cabin.”
Gator shrugged carelessly. “We all have to sacrifice. Let’s get to work. Sam, don’t you ruin those ribs. I marinated them with my special secret sauce.“
“They’re safe with me,” Sam said. “I’ll tear down the dock while the ribs are cooking. Watch for leeches, boys,” he added cheerfully, waving at them.