Freedom Fighters Read online

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  Long before revolution will tear Vistaria apart,

  Nicolas Escobedo discovers the first hint

  of the Insurrectos’ existence.

  Arctic Ambush is a prequel origins novelette setting up the events in the Vistaria Has Fallen series:

  Sign up for Tracy’s newsletter and get your copy of Arctic Ambush, part of the Vistaria Has Fallen romantic suspense series reviewers are calling “original”, “compelling” and “a rollercoaster ride.”

  Arctic Ambush is not available for sale at any retail outlet.

  See the download link at the end of this book, once you have enjoyed Hostage Crisis!

  Table of Contents

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  About Freedom Fighters

  Praise for the Vistaria Has Fallen series

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

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  About the Author

  Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Copyright Information

  About Freedom Fighters

  She has evolved from First Daughter to Freedom Fighter.

  Once the privleged daughter of Vistaria’s President, Carmen Escobedo now fights with civilian Loyalists to win back her country. She would be content except the rebel unit leader, Garrett Blackburn, is an inhuman slave-driver.

  Deeply scarred, physically and mentally, Garrett is a doctor by night and a guerilla leader by day. His cold indifference shifts when Carmen helps uncover an Insurrecto plot to steal a silver mine and use the silver to buy respectability. The freedom fighters must halt the silver shipment no matter the cost…

  Get your copy now of the fourth book in the Vistaria Has Fallen romantic suspense series reviewers are calling “original”, “compelling” and “a rollercoaster ride.”

  1.0: Vistaria Has Fallen

  2.0: Prisoner of War

  3.0: Hostage Crisis

  4.0: Freedom Fighters

  5.0: Casualties of War

  6.0: V-Day

  [Reader Note: This series was previously published as erotic romance titles in the Vistaria Affair series. This new edition has been re-written for a general audience and re-titled.]

  Praise for the Vistaria Has Fallen series

  Am looking forward to seeing what happens in future installments.

  I look forward to reading more of this series in the future. I want to know what happens now.

  Another brilliant series begins.

  Cooper-Posey has packed in love, action, mystery, and intrigue, all in this novel. I can’t wait to read the next installment!

  Other brilliant read from Tracy that captivates you from the very beginning as we look at the potential of a rebel uprising in a fictitious Latin American country.

  Passion, action, horror, tragedy and adventure are all beautifully and masterfully woven by Tracy to provide maximum reading entertainment.

  The characters are fantastic and the story line, well let's just say it is very new and fresh. Lots of intrigue, excitement, mystery, and, of course, some romance as well.

  Truthfully I cannot wait for the next book in the series to find out what is happening in Vistaria.

  Chapter One

  Carmen stopped hating Garrett long enough to dig into the battered backpack hanging from her shoulder and hand him the wad of Vistarian currency. He took it from her and handed it to the man sitting on the other side of the little, scratched table.

  Hernandez Garcia took the cash and looked at it. “Are you sure, señor?” he asked Garrett. “I am a loyal Vistarian. I would give you these things if you must truly have them.”

  Carmen scowled at Garrett and turned to peer through the window of the small house. She stood next to Efraín, who was their sentry this time. Efraín had his rifle cocked and the butt resting on his hip as his gaze flickered from point to point across the landscape.

  “Still okay?” Carmen asked in a murmur.

  “Still okay.”

  Behind her, Garrett spoke to Hernandez patiently. “It’s better that you have a way to explain to the Insurrectos why you lost your phone and your laptop. This way, you can tell them that strangers paid you a lot of money for them.”

  “Why can I not say they were stolen? It’s such a lot of money, señor!”

  “Because if they were stolen, you would have reported the theft to the community station as soon as they went missing and you would inform the telephone company, too. That would make the phone and the laptop useless to us more quickly that we would like.”

  “Then I will tell the Insurrectos nothing!” Hernandez declared.

  “Garrett,” Carmen said in warning. They had been in the house far too long already.

  Garrett glared at her with flint gray eyes and turned back to Hernandez. “If you say nothing you will declare yourself a Loyalist. They’re still hanging anyone they think is a Loyalist without benefit of a trial.” He shook his head. “Take the money, Hernandez. Then you will merely look like an enterprising Vistarian.”

  Hernandez nodded. “I will do what you say, señor. Only it troubles me to do so.”

  “Troubled is a condition I can deal with,” Garrett said, standing. “Dead, I cannot cure.”

  “Garrett,” Carmen urged him once more.

  “Take a pill,” he snapped at her, in English. He picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder so it hung low on his back. Then he dropped the grubby serape over the top and donned the straw cowboy hat he favored. The scrubby growth on his cheeks and chin that he never shaved grew in much darker than his blond hair. With the hat, he didn’t look foreign at first glance. Foreigners were unknown on the streets of Vistaria’s cities and towns these days. The beard also hid most of the scars on his face, which would make him memorable.

  The serape was an indeterminate gray-green color. The stripes of wool were once brighter and more varied. Time, dirt, smoke and sweat had turned the serape into a muted, dirty and disguising garment. It didn’t look like camouflage, yet it worked just as well to hide Garrett among the trees.

  Carmen stuffed the laptop and cellphone into her backpack, then tucked her own rifle back over her shoulder and checked the safety on the Smith & Wesson. She wore a light jacket that came down to mid-thigh and hid the gun on her hip.

  Efraín kept his gaze on the window while they prepared.

  “Efraín?” Garrett murmured.

  “Clear.”

  With a last nod at Hernandez, Garrett stepped out of the house, taking the lead. Carmen followed him out and moved to his right flank, quartering the area without turning her head. It was clear, as advertised.

  Relaxing only a little, she hurried after Garrett. He was already striding down the steep hill toward the trees. They had left the rest of the unit on the outskirts of town, in a tucked-away glade on the edge of the tree line. Only three of them heading into the town had been a risk, yet larger numbers would have drawn attention.

  It was an overcast day, with an iron-gray sky that promised rain. The heat had not slackened for more than a week. It was the dog days of summer. Until she had moved to the States to study, Carmen hadn’t known what that meant. Now, moving through da
mp air bereft of the smallest breeze, her body sticky with sweat, she thought the name was perfect.

  They maintained silence all the way out of Cerro Ciudad, which suited Carmen just fine. She glared at Garrett’s back occasionally. He watched their route ahead. For all she knew, he also watched through the back of his head and sideways. Garrett had instincts that had saved them more than once. She always monitored him to catch his first twitch of alarm.

  No one lingered on the streets. It was siesta time and although a town this high in the foothills wouldn’t need to sleep away the heat of the day, the habit was ingrained. They made the clearing without alarm.

  Angelo moved across the clearing and touched Carmen’s shoulder. That was all he did, although Carmen sensed Garrett’s scowl in reaction.

  The eight of them moved through the trees, skirting the town. Their progress was nearly silent. Carmen was still learning how to place her feet and avoid branches that could snap. She was a city girl, while all the others except Garrett had grown up in the south end of the island. Hiking silently through scrub was built into them.

  Garrett, of course, was a freak of nature. He never made a sound when he was moving.

  When Carmen stepped on leaf litter that was drier than it looked and crumpled loudly, he glared at her over his shoulder.

  She stuck her tongue out at him when he turned back.

  The current camp was a mile south of the rail line and almost directly due east of the town, Cerro Ciudad. It was too close to Cerro Ciudad, yet it was in an unexpected place. They had been camped there for nearly two months and hadn’t seen a single patrol.

  The Insurrecto patrols swept farther east into the flatlands. They didn’t seem to think a Resistance camp at higher elevations was possible. Either that, or they were too lazy and didn’t want to scramble around the knees of the mountains looking for them. Whatever the reason, it made life easier for Garrett’s unit.

  As they drew farther away from the town, they relaxed their guard. Angelo fell back to the end of the line, where Carmen was checking their rear. He smiled at her.

  He was a typical Vistarian—tall, with clear olive skin, black hair and eyes and a nice smile. Carmen smiled back at him. He was a good fighter and he took care of her in bed. It wasn’t his fault she often felt fifty years older than him, even though they were the same age.

  “I found some coffee in that village we passed yesterday,” Angelo said. “I thought we could make spiced coffee when we get back.”

  “We don’t have any nutmeg. Or ginger or cloves,” Carmen said. She spoke in a soft murmur. Her feminine voice was pitched higher and traveled farther, or so Garrett had warned her, more than once. “Although, I like coffee straight,” Carmen added.

  Angelo grimaced. “American style,” he said, with a sniff.

  Carmen laughed. “American style coffee got me through five years of college.”

  “Miss Brainiac,” Angelo teased, using the English word. It was one of the few he knew.

  Garrett whistled to get their attention. He held up his fist.

  They halted, listening hard.

  After forty seconds, Carmen heard what Garrett had detected. A train was coming from the south.

  “Unscheduled,” Angelo breathed.

  She nodded. An unscheduled train could mean many things, but for sure, the Insurrectos were behind it. They let nothing run on the tracks without their say-so.

  Garrett waved them closer, so he could talk without shouting. They gathered around.

  “Let’s hitch a ride and find out what’s on that train,” Garrett proposed. “Go.”

  Carmen ran at as close to a full sprint as she could manage, heading downhill toward the tracks which glinted through the trees, just ahead. There was no danger of being heard with a train clanking and groaning.

  The others were doing the same as Carmen, spreading out as they moved. This was a familiar task to the unit. They had hitched and raided many trains, usually at a profit.

  It was good to move freely. Carmen leapt and scrambled down the hill, enjoying the sensation of her body working hard. She was fitter now than she had ever been in her life, thanks to hiking, running, fighting and climbing hills. For the first few weeks with the unit, everything had felt like it was uphill. Now, she barely noticed the inclines.

  They were going to time it nicely. The train pulled around the wide bend and came into view. She angled her approach to the tracks, heading north so she was running alongside the train and inside the trees. It would let her emerge into the open once the engine’s driver had passed.

  There were only two cars attached to the train, both of them boxcars. They were harder to latch onto, but not impossible. Carmen burst out of the trees, her boots digging into the rocky aggregate around the tracks. She leaned in toward the first car, aiming to grab the long handle on the door.

  “Above! Above!” Garrett cried. “Duck!”

  Carmen already had a grip on the door handle. It was pulling her along. The train was moving at a crawl because of the slope, although it was faster than she could run on the rocks that lined the tracks. She was committed.

  She hauled herself up and put a foot on the floor that projected from beneath the door a few inches. Behind her, Angelo grunted as he did the same with the other car.

  Machine gun fire ratcheted, right over her head. Carmen sucked in a surprised breath and hugged the door. Behind her, she heard the characteristic bellow of Garrett’s heavy duty .45.

  A wheezy cough sounded from the top of the car. Carmen tightened her grip as a man wearing the mottled gray of the new Insurrecto uniforms fell past her, brushing her shoulder and thudding onto the rocks. His machine gun followed.

  Carmen was a good marksman with a handgun and getting better all the time. Garrett, though, was far, far better. Damn him. No one else in the unit could have made that shot.

  More submachine gun fire burst right overhead. Two guards? What the hell? What did they have in this thing that justified two guards on the roof? Anyone would think they were afraid the Resistance might try to hijack the train.

  Gripping the vertical rail next to the sliding door of the box car, Carmen pulled out her Smith & Wesson and cocked it, then raised it to point at the roof. Carefully, she leaned outward, until she could see over the lip of the roof.

  The guard was firing toward the back of the train and wasn’t looking at her. She took her time with the shot and got him in the torso. He reared back and clutched his side. Someone on the other side of the train—Ledo, by the sound of the light shot—took him in the head. He tumbled backward and disappeared.

  Carmen holstered her gun and worked on the latch of the box car. It was rusty and gave way with a groan. Then she pulled the door aside and whipped her gun out once more for there were three more Insurrectos in the car. The door on the opposite side of the car was also opening.

  The three men were pressing against the back of the car, peering through slits at the box car behind this one. The sound of the door opening alerted them. They were slow to turn.

  She shot all of them in the knee, a shot apiece. They dropped, clutching their legs and screaming.

  A fourth guard lurched into the doorway, bringing his rifle up to aim at her. Carmen squeaked in surprise. She swung her gun to point at him.

  Before she could fire, another shot sounded. It was Garrett’s .45 bellowing again. The bullet whizzed past her like a miniature thunderclap.

  The guard clutched his belly, looking down at it, surprised. Then he toppled sideways, revealing Garrett standing inside the other door, the .45 in his hand.

  “You didn’t quarter the room, did you?” he said, his scowl back.

  Angelo swung into the car from above.

  “Take care of the driver,” Garrett told him. “Let’s stop this thing and check it out. There’s something strange going on here.”

  Carmen agreed that this was odd. Six armed guards, only two cars and an unscheduled run?

  Angelo nodded and sw
ung back out onto the side of the car. He would work his way along until he reached the engine, then get the driver to halt the train. Depending on whether the driver was a Loyalist or not, Angelo would either use force or just ask nicely.

  Garrett studied the three guards rolling on the floor in agony. “You should have gone for the head,” he said, “and made sure of them.”

  “Listen to the doctor,” Carmen mocked. “I spared them. Sue me.”

  The other five members in their team all swung into the car from either side. None of them was injured.

  A rifle cracked, from outside.

  “Guess the driver isn’t a Loyalist,” Ledo remarked with a grin.

  The train’s brakes squealed and the train slowed.

  Garrett was moving around the car, questing like a beast on the hunt. “It’s empty.” He turned on one heel to take in the whole car.

  “Except for the rags over here,” Carmen said. She walked over to the pile of rags pushed up into the corner. They were musty, stained and ragged. She gave them a kick and her boot thudded up against something solid beneath them.

  She looked at Garrett and raised her brow. Then she leaned and picked up the rags and tossed them away.

  A small metal box painted army green was revealed. There were two padlocks, one per clasp and yellow stenciling on the cover.

  “That is what six guards were watching?” Ledo said, as the train came to a shuddering halt.

  “Wait,” Garrett said. “First, move the Insurrectos out of the car. Tie them to trees if they’re still alive. Carmen, give Ledo your zip ties.”

  Carmen pulled the half-dozen plastic strips she had out of her pocket and handed them over.

  “Do the same with the driver and anyone in the second car,” Garrett ordered as Ledo jumped down to the ground and the others followed.

  Then Garrett moved to stand over the box, studying it. “The rags were misdirection. If the guards failed, they hoped the pile of rags would go unnoticed. As if the guards wouldn’t tip off anyone who tried to get in here, in the first place.”