by Bex Dane
Table of 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
Epilogue
Rogan (Men of Siege Book One) © 2018 by Bex Dane. All rights reserved.
Warning: Adult content. Explicit sex, graphic violence, and language. Not intended for readers under eighteen.
Published by Larken Romance
First Edition February 2018
Cover by Elizabeth Mackey Designs
The Men of Siege Series
Imagine an elite group of tall, dark, and rugged heroes.
All connected to a nightclub in Boston called Siege.
They live by the motto die before surrender.
But what happens when the warriors of Siege face down the power of love?
Will their physical strength help them in battles of the heart?
Find your next book boyfriend at Siege, and your next, and your next…
Rogan (Men of Siege Book One)
My world was dark, until I met her...
Rogan:
Vengeance rules my life.
Nothing distracts me from my quest to track and kill my target.
Nothing except Tessa, the woman I rescued on my last Delta Force mission.
She's sunshine and beauty. I'm shadows and regret.
And I want her.
But loving her means battling my deepest fear—failure.
Tessa:
Rogan's gorgeous and kind, but he's not the man for me.
As much as I wish it were different, it's true.
He puts war above everything and barricades his heart behind walls of muscle.
When my past threatens to rob me of my freedom, he's there to save me.
But will he let me do the same for him?
Rogan is a full-length standalone novel and the first book in the Men of Siege series. If you're looking for a passionate second-chance romance, you'll love Rogan.
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Click here to download Tessa (A Men of Siege Short Story)
Table of Contents
Table of 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
Epilogue
Dedication
More Men of Siege
Playlist
About the Author
"There never was a war that was not inward." — Marianne Moore In Distrust of Merits
Chapter 1
Kabul Province, Afghanistan
Rogan
"You ready to get some, Boggs?" Falcon asked as he peered into his scope from his prone position beside me.
"Hell yeah. He's an hour late."
A silhouette of a man, glowing iridescent green in my night vision, exited the front door to the compound and sauntered over to his waiting comrade. Four years since my wife's death, and only two guards separated me from my ultimate target, Mustafa Ahmed Hakim Osmani. Jericho.
I settled into position on the boards and focused my sight on the relief guard's temple. "Ready."
"Send it."
I pulled the trigger and sent one sailing. The relief guard's head jerked, a green mist of blood exploding from his skull.
"Got him," Falcon said. "Above the right eye."
The guard on duty lowered the body of his dead associate to the ground. He bobbed and dodged, trying to escape the invisible sniper fire. If he would just stay put for one second...
When his forehead stilled, I pulled the trigger.
"Hit," Falcon said. "Dead center."
The second guard stumbled and dropped to the dirt.
"Moving," I called through the comms.
The five men on my team and my dog followed me as I descended the stairs of the unit we were using as a hide.
We jogged silently through the moonless night in Kabul, taking cover between mud huts as we advanced. I checked the bodies of the guards outside Jericho's dwelling to make sure the bullets did their job. Yep, two bullets, two dead terrorists. Excellent. Now to the high-value target.
Diesel and Ruger scaled a wall to access the dwelling from the roof. The remaining three men took up positions around the perimeter as Blaze rigged the door to blow. "Fire in the hole!"
I pulled Takoda to my chest. Two simultaneous explosions blasted us, one at the front door, the other on the roof. The element of surprise gone, we had sixty seconds to get in, clear the building, and kill Jericho. I pinched the scruff of Takoda's neck and spoke in her ear. "Be careful, girl." I released her. "Search!"
She charged into the settling dust of the disintegrated door. When nobody shot her and nothing else exploded, we entered through the debris. Two women and three children huddled against the far wall. Oz and Blaze tied their hands behind their backs and forced them outside.
As I marched to meet Ruger and Diesel on the second floor, Takoda stopped and sniffed at a girl the guys had missed. She cowered on a cot with her arms over her head, her knees tucked under her. I grabbed her bicep and yanked her up.
"Ahh!" Nylon rope bound to her wrists pulled her back to the bed frame.
"Oh, dear God. Save me. Dear God. Watch over me. Please. Please," she chanted in a weak voice.
"Are you American?"
One wide eye peeked up at me over her shoulder. Patches of light skin showed through the dirt on her face. She nodded. "Help me."
The long sleeves and scalloped collar of her dress, while filthy and wrinkled, appeared to be Western-styled.
An American hostage? How the hell did we miss her during recon?
The first crack of a firefight sounded from upstairs. "Taking fire!" Ruger's yell echoed through the comms.
"Stay down. I'll come back for you." I released her arm.
Three men and I scaled the steps to the second level. From the stairwell, my mirror sight showed one enemy combatant firing wildly through the hole Ruger and Diesel had made in the roof.
"Mrasta!" I called help in Pashto. "Mrasta."
The gunfire stopped and the shooter poked his head out around the banister, looking in the direction of my voice.
I shot him in the chest. He hit the floor with a thud. I took point as we advanced to the second level. Ruger and Diesel dropped in from the hole in the roof and got in line.
We slipped into posi
tion on either side of the door that led to the only bedroom on the second floor. Lying prone, I used a corner scope to identify three insurgents in the room. "Open fire."
A hailstorm of shots flew through the doorway in both directions. When the firefight ceased, at least two enemy combatants lay dead. One man stumbled and swayed with his weapon pointed toward the ceiling. I shot him in the head. He rocked and dropped to the floor.
We entered the room to assess if we'd hit our target. I approached the closest body and pulled him to his back.
"That him?" Blaze asked.
"Not sure yet." I kneeled beside the body, pouring water over his face to clear the blood. His hair was black, not the gray we were looking for, his nose wider than the target's—the forehead too large. Not tall enough to be Jericho. His features matched Musab Al-Sayed, Jericho's oldest brother, the one we called Zulu.
"Not him."
"What the hell?" Blaze came up behind me.
"Not Jericho. That's Zulu."
"You gotta be shitting me."
I inspected the second body. "Not him either."
The third body was too short to be our target.
"You check the one on the stairwell?" I asked Blaze.
"Not Jericho." He grunted and turned away. "Damn."
Fuck. We didn't get him. "Move out. Blaze, rig it to blow."
He proceeded to set a charge in the corner of the room.
I ran for the door, stopping at the American girl. With a flick of my bowie knife, the rope snapped free from her wrists. I scooped her off the cot and charged to the exit.
"Sixty seconds!" Blaze called.
"Koda, come!"
We filed out of the dwelling and raced the three hundred yards to the extraction point. The impact blasted our backs and propelled us forward. The helo touched down, and the entire six-man team boarded like clockwork.
I set the girl on the bench at the rear of the helo and whistled for Takoda out the door.
"Stand by. My dog isn't here."
The pilot held up his hand, indicating he'd heard me.
"Let's move," Blaze said as I leaped to the ground.
"Not without Takoda." The rotor wind pummeled me as I ran five yards east, scanning the horizon for any sign of her. Nothing.
"Koda!" My call died in the void. Where the hell was she?
There. Fifty yards to the west, a pair of eyes glinted and bounced. Is that her? Yes! Takoda galloped full-tilt toward me, the wind blowing her fur at a sharp angle away from her flanks. We hopped in the helo.
"Go!"
The pilot lifted off. Falcon slammed the door shut, cutting down the rotor noise with a sharp thud. I stowed my weapons and strapped Takoda's harness to a belt. "Where were you, girl?"
She panted, her tongue hanging.
"Good dog." I patted her head.
At least I didn't lose her.
I pulled off my headgear and inspected my team for injuries. Diesel sat on the floor, his face and neck smeared with blood. Ruger kneeled in front of him with his medical kit open.
"How is he?" I asked Ruger.
"Shrapnel grazed his cheek. It's not too deep." Diesel winced as Ruger pressed gauze to his face.
"You got lucky, my friend," I said to Diesel.
"Not a big deal," Diesel replied. "Yolanda's gonna kill me."
"Nah, she gets you back alive, she'll be happy."
"What the hell is that?" Blaze pointed to the girl cowering on the bench.
I glanced at her. "She's American." Trembles wracked the girl's body. I grabbed a blanket and covered her.
"You don't know that."
"Look at her. She spoke English to me. We had to get her out," I replied.
"Sure we did."
"We don't leave hostages behind. We don't leave our dog behind. You're amped up and talking nonsense."
"No. You got fucking issues with female hostages."
The movement in the cabin stilled. Five pairs of eyes zeroed in on me.
"Don't go there, Blaze." I towered over him.
He rose to his feet and sneered. "A weakness. Puts us all at risk."
"Rescuing her was low risk. I made the call."
"She ain't her, ya know."
My bones hummed with righteous fury and all my muscles coiled, ready to strike down this insolent ass. Our vests mashed together as I pushed right up in his stupid face. "Shut the fuck up! You're outta line."
"She ain't her, Boggs. Eden's dead. She's been dead four years."
Through the red haze filling my vision, I nailed his chin with a vicious right hook. He didn't expect it, didn't block. He rubbed his jaw and squinted at me.
"Go ahead, Blaze. Hit me back. Let's see who's left standing at the end."
Falcon wedged a shoulder between us. "Hey! That's enough. Sit down."
Blaze broke eye contact as Falcon forced me to sit.
With my elbows on my knees, I peered down at my boots.
I would not lose my shit.
We didn't get Jericho.
Failure. Unacceptable.
I tugged at the straps of my flak vest and anchored myself in the armor.
At least we got Zulu. And a fucking hostage.
She ain't her.
Eden's dead.
This girl wasn't Eden. She didn't die at the hands of terrorists. This girl will live.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck." The image of Eden's bloody corpse in my arms threatened to rob me of my sanity again.
"Lock it down, Boggs."
I lifted my head and linked eyes with Falcon. "I got it," I gritted out through my clenched jaw. I tucked the image away in a storage pocket and locked the snap.
Gone.
Falcon stared at my fists until I released my grip on my vest.
The girl shuddered under the blanket and snuck a furtive glance at me.
"Ruger, check her condition," I called.
Ruger grabbed his kit and walked to her with his shoulders down and knees bent.
"No! No!" She recoiled against the seat and pulled the blanket up to her face.
I held my hand up for Ruger to back off. He stopped and headed back to his seat.
"Hey." She shrank down when I tapped her back through the blanket. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"How old are you?"
No answer.
"Why were you in Afghanistan?"
She chewed her lip, her gaze darting around the cabin. "Are you soldiers?" She glanced at my unmarked fatigues then focused on my beard.
"Yes. You're safe. We won't hurt you. You need to give me some info, so I can get you back where you belong."
I could barely hear her weak voice. "I... My church..."
"You here with your church?"
She nodded.
"Where are they based?"
"Karachi."
"We can return you to Pakistan. Are they still in Karachi?"
"I don't know."
"Where's your family? The States?"
She nodded again. She needed to get home. We couldn't leave her here.
I surveyed the faces of each of my men. "She's coming with us."
"You gotta be kidding me. You're gonna blow the roof off this whole mission for her?" Blaze was a pain in my ass tonight.
"She doesn't know who we are. We return her to her family in the States anonymously. She'll keep quiet."
Chapter 2
The helo touched down at Kabul International Airport after a twenty-minute flight. The girl stayed in a tight ball with her head tucked into my chest as I carried her onto the unmarked jet the CIA had arranged for us to take nonstop to Boston Executive Airport. I set her down in the aisle seat and took the window seat next to her. She huddled under her blanket, her wide eyes peeking around the cabin, bouncing to each man as he settled his gear.
Blaze stopped in front of us and gave me his repentant look. "Boggs. I'm sor—"
"Not now, Blaze." He stirred the wrong shit tonight.
"No, man. Your mission, you
r call."
"It's done. Tonight was challenging for all of us." As always, after action, we forgive each other and forge ahead. "It's all good. Let's get home."
"Right." Blaze glanced at the girl before walking to his seat.
I removed my flak vest. Time to take off the armor.
The shaking in her shoulders subsided as we reached altitude.
"You need to let my medic see to you."
She glanced at Ruger. "I'm fine."
"Ruger!"
Ruger came over with his kit. "Do you hurt anywhere?"
She shook her head.
"How many?" He held up his fingers.
"Two."
Her gaze traced his fingers back and forth as he shined a light in her eyes.
"Can you stand for me?"
She placed her fingers in his outstretched palm. Red marks circled her wrists where she'd been bound. Ruger helped her rise to her feet. Based on the ten inches Ruger had over her, she must be about five-foot-seven. Taller than I thought she'd be based on her weight when I carried her. Her blonde hair, dark with grease and grime, curled in messy twists on her neck. She poked it with her fingers.
"How old are you?" Ruger asked as he checked her vitals.
"Twenty-three," she answered in a shaky voice.
Huh. I would've guessed sixteen by her thin frame.
"When's the last time you ate?" Ruger asked.
"Yesterday morning."
"Try to drink this. Take it slow." He handed her a bottle of electrolytes.
She sipped the drink, keeping her eyes closed.
"Your stomach queasy?"
She shook her head.
Ruger applied ointment to her wrists and repacked his kit. "She looks okay. Malnourished, stressed, but no obvious injuries."
"Good."
"I'll walk you to the bathroom to clean up." Ruger angled his head toward the small door at the rear of the cabin.
She hesitated, her gaze flitting to the back of the plane.
"Go ahead," I said.
Ruger held her elbow as she made her way down the aisle. The door clicked shut behind her, and Ruger walked back to kneel by my seat. "She'll need an internal exam when we land. Testing for pregnancy and disease."
I shook my head. "Black ops stay black start to finish. We're putting her on a plane and sending her home. Her family will have to see to her medical care."
Ruger nodded and returned to his seat.
The girl's footsteps approached ten minutes later. She'd washed her face, revealing lightly freckled pale skin. She'd worked her hair into a loose braid that hung five inches past her waist. She looked down as she slumped back into her seat and pulled her blanket up under her chin.