by Cat Johnson
“Roger that,” Grant responded from the command post. Alpha and Bravo units, stand by.”
Brody was aware of both Zane and Chris acknowledging the order while he kept his focus glued to the path.
It was like the old days. Before Chris had retired. Before Zane and Jon had turned in their separation papers.
Adrenaline pumped through Brody’s veins. He was in the zone, primed and ready to take that truck or die trying. Though hopefully not. His dying could fuck up the mission.
It was a good plan. If the leaders were actually in this camp and hadn’t gone underground, this attack could take out the heads of this organization.
With any hope, just like the snake they’d encountered, if they cut off the head, the rest would fall.
“Hold steady,” he hissed.
The team didn’t respond. They didn’t have to. They’d been well trained. Rehearsed and re-rehearsed until every action was rote. Until muscle memory took over and freed up the mind to deal with more important things.
The truck, painted green camouflage to blend with the forest, broke through the trees and into view.
Brody had a clear bead on the driver but he didn’t take the shot. That wasn’t the plan.
All hell would break loose if the target knew they were being fired upon. But if the truck simply broke down, as trucks tended to do, they wouldn’t think much of it.
They needed to know how many vehicles and how many men they were dealing with, and to do that the team had to hold back and wait for them to get closer and be more exposed on the path.
Brody and Thom were set up closer to the truck with Rocky and Mack farther back and slightly to the side. From their cover amidst the foliage, the team would have the vehicle and its inhabitants surrounded.
A second truck emerged from the trees.
Two. Double the challenge, but still doable. Once the lead truck was disabled with a well-placed bullet in the tire, the second would be blocked from moving forward by the first until they changed the flat.
If all went as planned, the men would unload and move together to investigate the flat tire, giving Brody’s team not only a headcount but also a clear shot at them all, all at once, in one easy to manage group.
Of course, the targets would eventually set up guards before they fixed the flat, so time was of the essence.
Brody’s team would have to use the element of surprise to their advantage. They had to hit before the group got organized.
The trucks rumbled along the path, getting closer to Brody. When no other vehicle emerged from the break in the woods, Brody reported, “Two enemy vehicles. Unknown number of targets. Taking out the tire.”
With the sound of the shot muffled by a suppressor, the bad guys had no clue why their truck was suddenly listing to one side.
The convoy came to a stop almost directly in front of the team’s position.
Men piled out of the back of two vehicles, speaking fast and loud as they all moved to the one side of the truck to inspect the flat tire.
That was their fatal mistake.
It was over in under a minute.
Not a surprise, really. Usually firefights never lasted as long in real life as they did in the movies.
It was one of Brody’s biggest pet peeves when trying to enjoy an action flick.
Today, most of the ten men who’d left the safety of their camp hadn’t had time to raise their weapons before the bullets they never saw coming had taken them out.
Brody couldn’t feel too bad about that. One glance showed the targets were all armed to the teeth. Automatic weapons. Handguns. Grenades. Knives. Even a couple of machetes.
While surveying the sheer amount of firepower, Brody said, “We need to clear these weapons.”
Thom bent to retrieve one of the M16s. “I guess we’ll put it all in back of the good truck for now and deal with disposing of them later.”
“Good idea.” Brody agreed for multiple reasons.
They couldn’t risk the noise of destroying the weapons here and now but more than that, if they got into a firefight when they hit camp, having the extra weapons and ammo could come in very handy.
Mack, the Catholic among them, crossed himself as he stood over the bodies littering the ground.
Brody understood Mack’s reverence.
These men at their feet had been living, breathing humans just moments ago. But they had also been terrorists. They’d pledged fealty to a militant organization who killed, kidnapped and raped those who couldn’t defend themselves, all because they didn’t believe in the same things.
Judging by the patterns of recent movements and behavior, these men were very likely on their way to attack one of the nearby villages. That village was safe . . . for now.
Brody stood nearby, evaluating the results of a couple of dozen rounds delivered by the weapons of four well-trained men as his teammate finished his silent prayer.
Bending to grab one of the rifles, Rocky shook his head. “More than half of these are ours.”
By ours Rocky meant the weapons in the hands of the enemy were U.S. made assault rifles, probably the ones meant to arm their allies.
Obviously the days were long gone when the only weapons the bad guys could get their hands on were old Russian leftovers from the conflicts in the 1980s.
Mack turned to the group. “When I was in Fallujah, we learned from the Iraqi authorities that they lost weapons and Humvees when ISIS took Mosul. I guess this is proof it’s being used to supply Boko Haram.”
Rocky mumbled a cuss as Mack continued, “The north-south axis to Libya is one of the main supply routes and it's pretty much an open road right now.”
“Then we need to shut it down.” The determination was clear in Thom’s voice.
“And decimate Boko Haram,” Rocky added.
“Then we’d better get moving.” Brody clicked his communicator to deliver the report. “Charlie to Command. Ten tangos neutralized and we liberated two large presents for y’all.”
“Good job, Charlie team. Hold position. Alpha and Bravo, move in.”
After Grant barked his orders, Brody turned to the team. “Guess we’d better see about changing this tire if we’re gonna use both trucks.”
Rocky cocked one brow. “Or we could just use one.”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Jeez. I’ll change the frigging tire, city boy. Wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty.”
“I am not a city boy.” Rocky’s dark brows drew low in a frown.
Mack let out a snort as he slung his weapon over one shoulder and moved to the back of the truck where a spare tire was mounted. “Whatever you say, Jersey boy.”
“Come on, guys. Back me up here.” Rocky glanced at Brody and Thom for help.
Brody lifted his shoulder, following the argument even as he kept an eye on the path behind the trucks so they didn’t get snuck up on. “You are a Yankee.”
Thom, weapon up as he also surveyed the forest around them, laughed softly. “I’m a Yankee too, but I know how to change a tire.”
“Motherfuck—” Rocky pressed his lips into a thin unhappy-looking line and shook his head. “I know how to change a damn tire. I just thought we only needed one truck. That was the original plan.”
Mack shook his head. “We should use both. Ten men and two trucks left. It won’t raise an alarm if that’s what comes back.”
Brody nodded. “Agreed. Two of us in the front of each of the trucks, and then three troops from Bravo unit in the back of both.”
Mack glanced at the bodies on the ground. “Of course, we’re gonna have to put on their clothes or the perimeter guards will notice that it’s not their men coming back in those trucks.”
“I had a bad feeling that was gonna be the plan.” Gazing down at the bloodied clothing, Rocky sighed.
“Bravo should be here soon. They’ll move quicker since we already marked and cleared the path for them,” Brody guessed.
Rocky glanced at Mack, in the midst of spin
ning off the lug nuts on the truck’s flat tire, and then at Brody and Thom, both watching the woods with weapons raised.
Swinging his gun over his shoulder, Rocky mumbled, “Crap. I guess I’d better get started on our new wardrobe.”
CHAPTER 19
“So I glance over and Rocky is literally face to face with this huge snake that I swear is looking him right in the eye, like they were in some sort of staring contest.” Thom’s recount of the story to the guys back on base got more animated with each telling, though Brody had to admit it had been pretty funny. “I swear, dude, this snake was like six inches away from the tip of Rocky’s nose.”
Eyes wide, Jon glanced at Rocky. “What the fuck did you do?”
Brody laughed. “Probably shit his pants.”
Rocky frowned. “Did not. And let’s see how you’d react.”
Thom wasn’t about to let the story go unfinished just because Brody and Rocky were bickering. He launched into the next part, saying, “So he was in the middle of checking in at the time. So command is freaking out on the radio because all they hear is Rocky cursing and then dead air.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t freaking out, but I was starting to think my star team—the ringers I hand-picked and flew in just for this freaking op—had gotten ambushed.”
“Aw, we’re your stars? That’s nice.” Brody grinned, teasing Grant.
Grant cocked a brow. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Undeterred, Thom forged ahead. “So this is the best part. Mack reaches over, as calm as anything. You know, as if this shit happens to him everyday. He snatches the snake, lops off its head with his KA-BAR and then goes back to manning his rifle.”
“It was no big deal.” Mack shrugged. “But that species is deadly so if it had bit him, that would have been a big deal.”
Rocky let out a visible shudder. “Ugh, I hate snakes.”
“We all have our little quirks.” Grant smiled.
Brody laughed. “Yeah, you should see Chris scream and run away like a little girl if he sees a wasp. It’s pretty funny . . . Where is he, anyway?”
Jon lifted his hand. “That’s on me. We left a small contingency from Bravo unit at the camp to conduct a final sweep for hidden weapons before they destroyed the cache.”
Grant nodded. “And, Shekau wasn’t among those in the camp, but chances are he was there at one time. If he left any intel behind, I told Chris that I want it.”
Brody glanced at the time.
The main force had been back for long enough he’d expect Chris and his team to be walking in any moment. But in the back of his mind remained the fact that anything could happen. The damn weapons could be booby-trapped.
Unlike Jon and Zane, Chris had been away from active duty for long enough he could have lost his edge.
Brody couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Have they checked in?”
Grant raised a brow. “You worried?”
Brody hesitated long enough that Grant tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s go to the JOC and check. I’ll be interested to find out if they found anything myself.”
Brody followed Grant. Whoever was manning the Joint Operations Center would have the latest situation report from Chris.
Once he knew what was happening, Brody could get himself some chow and then catch a few winks. But until he knew Chris was all right, he wouldn’t be able to rest easy.
The CO was in the operations center when they arrived. He glanced up when they walked in. “Good job with the trucks, Cassidy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Grant stepped forward. “What’s the latest from Bravo?”
“They saw a squirter heading out the back of camp and into the woods. Before he could disappear, your brother took off after him.” The CO directed the last part of the comment to Brody.
“Has he reported in?” Brody asked.
“Not yet. But when Jones called in thirty minutes ago, he said Cassidy was running full out after the guy. I wouldn’t expect him to give up the chase to take the time to call in.”
“They let him go alone?” Brody’s eyes widened.
“Jones said that as your brother was taking off into the woods, he told him to take over and finish the job.”
Chris was forty. He was in good shape but damn, for this kind of job he was an old man.
Brody could run full out for a good long while after a target, but could Chris?
Hell, more than age was the danger. Chris, out there alone on the tangos’ home turf, could get led straight into an ambush.
He dragged in a breath and realized how tight his chest felt as worry pressed down on him like a lead weight.
Brody was getting a good education in exactly how badly being on this side of the waiting and the worrying sucked.
“You still worried?” Grant asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Why? “He’s alone.”
Grant lifted a brow. “Yes, but he made that choice. Retired or not, Chris is still a highly trained, combat-experienced, well-armed DEVGRU operative. You have to trust he knows what he’s doing.”
And they’d all been prepared for this kind of scenario and blah, blah, blah, so many other reasons why Brody shouldn’t be concerned, but the fact remained, he was.
“But he’s also my brother.” Brody made eye contact with Grant and saw him react to the statement.
“He was your brother when you were on the team together too. He’s been in sticky situations before. I never saw you worry like this.”
“I know.” Brody bobbed his head, accepting the truth of what Grant said.
“So what changed over the past two years since he retired?” Grant asked.
“It’s closer to three years and I honestly don’t know.”
But Brody suspected. Two days with his first and only love and he’d gone soft.
The question remained, what could he do about it and what the hell was he going to do with himself and this overwhelming weight of worry about Chris?
He supposed he’d just have to deal with it until his damn brother, who’d put himself into danger, got himself out of it again.
CHAPTER 20
Ashley had been asleep when her cell phone woke her.
True to form for her, at least for the past few days, when any phone rang anywhere she jumped to grab it.
Still half asleep and in the dark, she dove for the phone that was lit up on the nightstand.
The unfamiliar area code on the display had her frowning. Her tired brain reasoned hazily that it could be a telemarketer. The bastards had begun to bother people by cell phone now instead of just on the house phone.
But it had to be the middle of the night, if not really early in the morning, judging by the lack of even a glow of sunlight coming through her window. Even telemarketers didn’t call this early.
It didn’t matter. There was no way she was going to let the call go to voicemail. It could be Brody.
Ashley hit the button to answer. “Hello?”
“Ash? It’s me.”
She listened to the nuances in the voice delivering those three short words and knew whom it was without having to ask. “Brody.”
His mumbled cuss came through the line. “I woke you up. I’m so sorry. I guess I didn’t figure the time zones right.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m awake.” No way was she letting him hang up just because he felt bad he’d woken her.
She’d gladly miss an entire night of sleep to be able to talk to Brody, especially now when he was God only knew where doing things she could barely imagine.
“How are you?” She had hoped and prayed he’d call but now that he was actually on the line she couldn’t come up with a thing to say besides inane small talk.
He let out a short laugh. “I’m fine.”
Something was wrong. She could hear it in his voice. “Is everything all right?”
He hesitated a beat before she heard his intake of breath and t
hen his sigh. If she hadn’t been so tuned in to him, listening as closely as the phone connection would allow, she might have missed those telltale sounds before he finally answered, “Uh . . . yeah.”
Whatever it was, he couldn’t tell her. She felt it to her bones that he wanted to but he couldn’t—and she’d gone and put pressure on him, making him feel even more badly about it.
That was what she had done when she’d grilled him before he left from his leave. Then, she had wanted to know where he was going, when she’d see him again, when he’d be able to call her, but he couldn’t tell her. So she’d cried and he’d felt bad.
Time for her to start acting like the understanding person she’d sworn to herself she’d be if ever given another chance with Brody.
Ashley drew in a breath and launched into a diversion that would hopefully cheer him up, no matter what was wrong. “So we had some excitement at your house today.”
“Yeah? What happened?” he asked.
“A mouse decided he wanted a piece of your grandmother’s toast while she was sleeping. He crawled right up on her nightstand and was sitting on her plate nibbling on the crust when she woke up. You would have thought the house was on fire with as loud as Miss Eleanor screamed.”
This time Brody’s laugh didn’t sound bitter. It was a genuine reaction to the story she’d relayed. Ashley smiled that whatever was wrong wherever he was, she could still make him laugh by providing a little piece of home.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Well, not a whole lot. By the time I got to her room that mouse had high-tailed it out of there and was long gone. Of course, I had to spend the rest of the day conducting anti-mouse activities. Setting up traps. Calling your father to ask him to bring home poison. Googling, literally searching for a better mouse trap on the internet.”
“That’s funny.” He laughed again and Ashley’s heart warmed.
Was this how all those people with loved ones in the military dealt with it? Ignore the elephant in the room—that the person on the other end of the line could be hurt or killed any moment—and just go on like normal?
Hearing him laugh made this charade more than worth it. And she had to admit pretending everything was fine was making her feel better too—at least for the moment. She had no doubt the second she hung up with him the weight of fear and worry would be back.