Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1)

by Skaggs, Cindy

  “Knowing you, that’s the understatement of the fucking century, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw attention to yourself like you did with Mad Dog. I have my mom and sisters at home. I won’t put them at risk.”

  “I made a mistake with Madigan because I thought we could help. I won’t go that route again. Our asses are on the line.” Team Echo’s mistake did not go unpunished. Less than a week after Kandahar, they experienced a training accident. Not a single man made it home. While no one had officially threatened Team Fear, the men knew the score. They’d signed up for an off-books experiment that had failed. They were loose ends. “Fuck.”

  “That about sums it up.” Rose tossed his notebook to the floor where it landed amongst the food wrappers. “Hello.” He smacked Ryder’s knee. “I’ve got movement down the driveway, sixty feet and closing.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ryder’s eyes narrowed in focus. “Location?”

  “Your five-o’clock.”

  Without turning—movement would draw unwanted attention—he used the side mirror to get a look down the road leading to Debi’s house. In the cracked mirror, all he saw was the long, dirt drive that eventually circled in front of the house and then wrapped back out the other side. From this angle, Ryder couldn’t see anybody. “Wildlife?”

  “Human. Two men, on foot.” Rose’s voice dropped, the sound too low to travel on the wind. He kept his gaze out the back window. “Brazen motherfuckers coming down the main road.”

  “Either they don’t know we’re here or they have backup coming from behind.” Ryder’s earlier nerves settled. Thoughts of Lauren, of anger and retribution faded as his body and mind focused. Intruders beat the hell out of surveillance. “Assume the worst. We could be outnumbered.”

  “If we wanted better odds, we should have joined the Air Force.” Rose stretched his legs, getting ready to move out.

  Loose and limber, Ryder relaxed. His shoulders settled. His body was awake, but no adrenaline jacked him up. He was born and bred to be a warrior. He’d been enhanced to do it without the impediment of fear. “You take the back of the house,” he said to Rose. “Make sure no one made is inside. I’ll take these two.”

  Rose slid out the door like a shadow, keeping the truck between him and the intruders. Ryder tracked him as he circled the woodpile and out of sight. Ryder pulled a knife from his boot. Once Rose was clear and the men in black had passed—less than ten feet to his right—Ryder exited the driver’s side, using the woodpile as cover to come at the intruders from behind.

  The two men moved in tandem with hand signals and stealth, black clothes and silence. Military trained. Better than the meth heads Smythe sent last time. The prick had to have more money than they thought if he could afford such well trained men. Or maybe the lawyer had stepped up to take out the problem. Either way, Craft needed to take a closer look at their financials.

  Ryder waited several long moments to make sure another team didn’t follow, and then he loped across the dirt in pursuit. In military mode, everything switched off—worries about Lauren, Smythe, the team—his entire focus became the two men in ski masks. Their eyes were rimmed with black to eliminate the glow of skin. Without training, Rose never would have seen their approach.

  A part of Ryder’s mind remained aware of noise and movement on his six, but so far, he didn’t see, hear, or sense another team. The area around them stilled, as if the local wildlife hunkered down, waiting for the hunter to find its prey. The two men in front of him didn’t realize they were on the wrong side of that equation. In his element, Ryder allowed his muscles to loosen as he maneuvered closer.

  At the tip of the circular drive, near Debi’s orange VW, the baddies split apart. The taller man edged to the back of the house while the other dropped behind the VW to wait. They were coordinating attacks from front and back, and Ryder had no means to communicate with Rose. He couldn’t risk pulling out his phone to text. The light would screw his night vision and alert the intruders to someone in the area. Ryder had to trust Rose to watch his six.

  Tonight, the best Ryder could do was to eliminate the frontal threat before going around to cover Rose. The guy staking out the front of the house had gone dead still next to a low-lying bush, likely waiting for orders to breach the front entrance. These were not gang bangers or local hoods. Silent as the night, Ryder approached with knife in hand. The knife was the backup. He’d rather put the other man in headlock and knock him out before he could alert anyone. They needed to interrogate these men as they had the last group, but something in Ryder’s gut said these two wouldn’t break.

  Ryder stalked forward, his heartbeat slow, his hands sure and steady, and his eye on the prize. Seconds before Ryder made contact, the man kicked back.

  “Oomph.” Air whooshed from his lungs as a large boot collided with his gut, sending him sprawling into the dirt. The knife went flying into the yard. Only training had him on his feet before he had time to catch his breath.

  The intruder sprang to the offensive, following Ryder and attempting a second kick, but Ryder was ready this time. He countered the move and the two men sparred in front of the ranch house. Hand-to-hand combat was dirty. There were no rules of engagement, no higher ethics involved in beating the crap out of another human being. You fought hard or you died. Those were the rules.

  The intruder was a big man, matching Ryder in size and speed. They sparred for several minutes, with neither gaining ground. Only their breath and the smack of flesh beating flesh interrupted the silence. His opponent grunted when Ryder landed a solid right hook, but he didn’t fight the punch. Instead, the other man rolled with the momentum to land back on his feet within seconds. The moves felt familiar, and an uneasy sizzle of warning chilled Ryder’s insides. He shut everything down except the fight, trying to find a weakness in his opponent’s moves. The soldier liked to kick, his size twelves hitting Ryder in the gut more than once.

  Ryder took the punishing hits, counting the moves until he found a pattern. When he did, he stepped back as the man kicked, grabbing his leg and twisting. Satisfaction oozed through Ryder as the other man hopped on one foot. Ryder flipped him, and using the leg as a fulcrum, slammed the man’s upper body against the ground. The intruder used the momentum to keep rolling, back on his feet before Ryder could inflict any serious damage, but he favored that leg in a barely perceptible limp. Ryder went after the leg with a vengeance, putting the man in black on the defensive.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Heard Rose shout, the words lost in the fog, but enough to warn him the second man was coming. The two men double-teamed Ryder. He tucked his head and barreled into his first opponent just as the second man launched at Ryder. All three rolled to the ground. Ryder smacked an elbow into somebody’s face. Felt the bone crack.

  Quick, before someone could trap him on the ground, Ryder rolled to his feet. Rose ran up, a look of rage in his eyes. A light flicked on the front porch.

  “Fall back,” the second man called. They hightailed it down the driveway.

  Ryder held Rose by the arm to keep him from giving chase. He wouldn’t leave Lauren unprotected. There could be more men, another attack planned, and he wouldn’t fail his wife again. He’d done that often enough already.

  Debi stepped onto the porch with a shotgun. A strong move, except the light put her in the crosshairs of anyone with a half-decent shot. They raced across the yard. Rose tackled Debi back into the house. Ryder killed the light and shut and bolted the door. In the light, Rose’s face was mottled. Bruises formed around one eye and scrapes marked his cheek. He busted up laughing.

  Ryder sat down, hard, on the entry floor trying to catch his breath. When he did, a low chuckle let loose. The deeper and longer Rose laughed, the more Ryder let the laughter wash away the tension. “Did you see those fuckers run?” Rose asked.

  “Lazy bastards.” Ryder sucked in another breath. Already the muscles in his stomach throbbed. He would have a boot-sized bruise on his g
ut for sure. “They didn’t expect a fight.”

  “What the hell?” Debi stepped between them, the shotgun still in her hands. “Were you two fighting in my front yard?”

  “Not each other.” Ryder explained about the intruders. “No doubt they expected easy pickings.”

  “By easy, you mean me?” Debi gripped the rifle, her knuckles turning white. “Because I’m not easy.”

  “Never said you were, but those two came expecting an easy in-and-out. That means they’ve cased your house before. They knew you and Lauren were here alone. Probably knew the layout of the house and were waiting for the lights to go out.”

  Debi leaned against the closet door. Her hands shook on the weapon. “Maybe I should have had something to drink earlier. That’s a lot to take in.”

  “You did good, sweetheart.” Rose removed the shotgun from her hands. He checked, and it had a round in the chamber. “Good girl.”

  “I grew up on the ranch.” The irritated tone hid the tremor in her voice, but couldn’t hide her shaking hands. “Who are you?”

  Rose moved the weapon to his left and reached out with his free hand. “Rose.”

  “Really?” Debi shook his hand with a look of doubt on her face. “Honey, there ain’t nothing soft and sweet about you.”

  “Sorry to break up the party, but where’s Lauren?”

  “Sleeping, and I wouldn’t—”

  “I need to make sure she’s secure.” Ryder paused on his way down the hall. “Rose, do a perimeter check and meet me back here in two.”

  Rose gave a mock solute before slipping out the door. The floorboards squeaked underfoot as Ryder headed down the hall. He’d had dinner a few times at Debi’s old farmhouse. The building had more creaky floors than a haunted house, but it was still solid. The dark of the hall welcomed him to the guest room. The door was ajar, and Ryder moved in, staying to the shadows at the edge of the room.

  Lauren was on top of the blankets, still in yesterday’s clothes, her dark hair like a blot on the pale pillowcase. In sleep, the lines of tension around her mouth and eyes faded, as if they only existed when he was around. Her lips opened as breath moved in and out, her chest lifting. The sight of her screwed with his focus. He didn’t have the resources he needed to protect her; he didn’t have an entire team at his command. Ryder cleared the bathroom, checked the window locks, and even checked under the bed because he was a paranoid bastard. He did a thorough search of the interior, knowing Rose did the same outside.

  They reconvened in the living room. Rose flipped a blade in the air, caught it by the handle on the downside. “Lose something?”

  Ryder grabbed the knife and sheathed it under his pant leg. “At least my face doesn’t look like ground beef.” It hurt to admit they’d gotten their asses handed to them. “We need equipment. Men.” They needed the damn Army, and good luck getting it.

  Debi slipped into the kitchen and measured coffee into an automatic brewer. “Haven’t had this much excitement around here since the barn burned down last year.” She pressed the brew button. “I won’t sleep after that. Want to tell me what happened?”

  “Two men slipped down the drive on foot, one headed for the front, the other the back. Rose, what happened to the guy in back?”

  “Fucker got the best of me.” His face went red. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Debi’s bawdy laugh warmed the yellow kitchen. “Honey, I’ve heard the word. I’m no shrinking violet. Or should I say no shrinking rose.”

  The red climbed Rose’s throat. He took a seat at the kitchen island, but the bar-height chair was chosen for style not comfort or durability. The metal legs groaned as Rose took a load off his feet. While they waited for the coffee to brew, Ryder and Rose pieced together the assault, filling in details. “Ry, that bastard was well trained. No night vision goggles, yet he found me in the pitch black of the screened porch out back. And as old as that damn screen door was, I should have heard the fucker open it. Didn’t hear a damn thing before he grabbed me from behind.” He glanced sideways at Debi who stared at the dripping coffee pot. “It sucks to admit, but if he’d have had a knife, he’d have slit my throat before I could blink.”

  “They were trained. Hand signals, stealth, they planned a coordinated attack. Had comms, which we damn sure better get if we’re going to beat them.” Ryder knocked his knuckles against the kitchen counter in time to his thoughts. “I had the drop on the man out front. He went as still as tree stump and I had him from behind. Easy target. Outside of our team, I don’t know a soul who could have heard the approach.”

  “You think this was Smythe?”

  Chills raced across Ryder’s overheated skin. “Until we know different, we assume everything connects to Smythe and his little housing scam. He sent some of the meth crew to handle Lauren when he thought she was alone. Idiots with a bad plan and poor execution. This time, he paid better money for better assholes.”

  “A whole helluva lot better assholes. They would have gotten in this house in absolute stealth if we hadn’t been out front.”

  Debi’s hands shook as she poured three cups of coffee. “I had my gun.”

  Rose shook his head, and the look on his face said a lecture was inbound. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have a clue they were here until I came roaring around the front. After stopping the guy in back from breaking and entering.”

  Debi reached to hand Ryder a coffee and dropped it, shattering the cup. Hot brew went flying. Her bare feet jumped back. “Crap, that’s hot.”

  “Hold on.” Rose escorted her to an open barstool at the island like she was the queen of England. “We should be serving you.”

  Ryder shook his head. The big man had lost his mind. Before he could say as much, Rose asked where the broom was, and started sweeping up the mess, then wiped it down with sanitary wipes. “Who are you and what have you done with my teammate?”

  Rose flipped him off behind the broom so Debi couldn’t see.

  All-righty then. Ryder turned his attention to Debi. “What happened to Lauren? She’s sleeping like the dead.”

  A shaky hand shoved hair off Debi’s face. “A little too much tequila.”

  “You know she can’t handle tequila. You’re evil.”

  Debi’s mouth tipped into a smile. “An evil genius. She needed to get wasted. She needed to turn off that mighty brain of hers and—” Debi tightened her lips closed.

  “You can finish that sentence anytime.”

  Debi shook her head. “And get some sleep. She didn’t want you to see her like this.”

  Lauren was beautiful, any day of the week, in any condition.

  Rose brought Debi a cup of coffee. “I added a shot of Irish crème.”

  “You’re handy to have around, Rosie. First you scare off intruders and now you’re ready with a shot of liquor to soothe the weak woman’s nerves.”

  “Didn’t say you were weak, but this has to be outside the norm for you?”

  “Normal is relative.” Debi took a sip, then another. “That’s good. Sorry. I’m being a bitch, and big enough to admit it. Hit a sore spot. The last time a man offered to help me, he shoved a knife in my back.”

  “That explains the gun.”

  “He brings a knife and you bring a gun. Isn’t that the way the game is played?’ Debi took another sip and smiled, transforming her pinched features. “Being tackled by a six-and-a-half foot bear is definitely outside the norm.”

  Rose shuffled his big feet as if he didn’t know if he should sit or stand. “Seemed the thing to do.”

  Debi winked. “Who said I didn’t like it?”

  Pheromones were swimming over their heads like gnats. Ryder brushed it off as they settled back to work. He helped himself to a cup of black coffee before leaning against the counter. “Smythe has upped his game. We have to assume he’ll come back harder. The one thing I’m certain of is that he won’t back off. He’s making good money and until now, he’s gotten away with it. He has to feel untouchable.”

&nb
sp; “Agreed, but—” Rose took a sip of his coffee. “That man got the drop on me. He wasn’t some lowlife you can hire for gram of meth. We do this, we need proper equipment.”

  “Add it to the list.” Ryder took a sip of the strongest coffee he’d ever tasted. He swallowed, burning his tonsils on the way down. “Shit, that’s strong.”

  “My hands were shaking. I may have added too much.”

  “You think?”

  “The Irish crème helps.” Debi took another long swallow. “Thanks for that,” she said to Rose. “Do you really think this is the Smythe guy?”

  “Unless you were expecting late night company?”

  Debi peered deep into her coffee. “I’m just saying, this is a load of bullshit over missing mortgage payments.”

  “It’s more than that.” Ryder and Rose shared a look. How much could or should they tell her?

  “They know where she lives, Ry. She deserves to know.”

  Drinking bad coffee and keeping an eye on the windows and doors, Ryder filled Debi in on all they knew about Smythe’s operation. He left out anything related to Team Fear.

  “I told Lauren the prick got off too easy.” Debi got up and rinsed her coffee cup. “Even the shot of Irish crème won’t help me sleep tonight.” She glanced at the clock. “Or this morning. Anything else you want to tell me?”

  Ryder scratched his temple, considering the problem. It was bad enough to have Lauren involved. They didn’t need another civilian at risk. “Watch your back. Maybe take a few days off work.”

  “You think they’d hurt me?”

  “I think they would have done something very unpleasant to you and Lauren if they’d gotten in this house, and they’d go through you to get to her, so yes, I think they’d hurt you.”

  “You have somewhere to go for a few days until this blows over?” Rose asked.

  Debi leaned back against the sink. “This is my home. I’m not leaving.”