by Zoe Dawson
Rose spoke again, her voice subdued. “The objective is to capture both Vasiliev and Angar Said, but barring that, you are authorized to take them out.”
“This mission is a go, and we will be launching at zero hundred. Get yourselves prepared and good luck,” Ruckus finished up.
Solace wanted to talk to Fast Lane before they got busy, her heart rate doubling, but as she approached him, Rose grabbed her arm. “Come with us,” she ordered, glancing at Ruckus. Solace couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from Fast Lane. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him, it was intense and unsettling, but there was no time. His gaze, so dark and intense, was filled with an underlying tenderness. She had to swallow hard, her throat aching, her thoughts nothing but a jumble.
Completely in charge. It was the first thing that jumped into Solace’s mind. But there was more than that. A hard male force radiated from him; it was in every movement, his posture, how he carried his head, the glint of steel in his eyes. Solace had never felt his strength and size the way she did at this moment.
Rose noted the look between them, as Solace averted her eyes, but she pulled Solace away and out of the command center. They walked across the dusty compound toward the flight line.
Someone yelled “Commander!” and Ruckus stopped and turned. The guy waited, waving his arms, and Ruckus sighed. “Fill her in, Rose.” He turned and headed back toward the command center.
She looked at Rose. “What is going on?”
“You won’t be flying the guys in or out tonight,” Rose said in a lethal tone.
A hollow feeling welled up inside her. She at least wanted to be with him on some part of this mission, if just for moral support. In her head, she realized she had to obey orders, but knowing didn’t ease the feeling of discontent that settled around her heart.
They reached a hangar with a roving guard. They slipped inside, and she and Rose stood in the semi-darkness. Feeling as if her body weighed a ton, Solace dropped her arms and met Rose’s concerned gaze.
“You need to get your head in better shape, Solace. We need a cougar on this mission.”
Solace totally agreed with Rose, and she moved her shoulders, trying to relieve the tight muscles of her neck. “I’m ready.”
Rose let her breath go in a long sigh; then she raked her fingers through her tousled hair. “Are you? I saw the way you were looking at Fast Lane. You need to separate your head from your heart.”
Solace felt the pressure on the backs of her eyes, making them burn. “I can do that.”
Rose kept her gaze steady, her expression somber. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. They are heading into some serious shit. I’m in charge of their lives. They’re in my hands…good, decent, strong, and brave men…my intel, my organization, my decisions. Zasha was one of us. Fooled us all. I want her…alive or dead. It doesn’t matter. I want her hatred and cruelty wiped off the planet,” she said. “I cannot fail them.” She reached out and gripped Solace’s upper arm, squeezing hard, her voice quiet and full of pain. “We cannot fail them.” Rose shook her gently. “We’ll get this done. You’ve got an inner strength that’s going to see you through anything that bitch can throw at you or anything in your personal past or present that is threatening your sanity. I need you present now.”
A gripping pain started deep in Solace’s chest, and she looked away, blinded by the kind of fear that brought out the best in her, knocking her right back into reality. A stark, terrifying reality. Fast Lane and his amazing team were going on a mission where they were all going to be tested and in horrible danger. It’s what they did. Where they excelled. She could absolutely do no less. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re going to be our secret weapon,” Rose said with a seriously smug look, then hit the lights. Solace’s mouth dropped open as the hangar lit up.
Holy hell.
Why the hell had Solace looked at him like that? What did she want to say to him? He knew when they were going to take off as the mission was a go, but capitalizing on every free moment was part and parcel of being a special operator. Preparation was key, and he drilled it into the heads of everyone who served under him. Cleaning and function checking every piece of equipment, starting with the team’s gear, with everyone pitching in no matter their rank or position.
He might be their LT, but he had no problem getting his hands dirty if it meant all of them would come home. Once all the team gear had been green-lighted, then he could focus on himself.
Even as he checked his gear together along with the team, making sure everything was clean and fully operable, he had a burning desire to talk to her, but it was impossible. An uncertainty settled into his chest as he checked his weapon’s laser sight and night-vision goggles. It wasn’t fear but rather a sense of internal compass recalibration as he took on the mantle of leadership.
He and Solace each had their jobs to do and not a whole lot of time to get it all done. In addition to getting all their gear together, they had to get some sleep before they were to load up into the helicopters.
He took a breath, wanting to call his granddad before he left on this mission. He wanted to talk to the old man…just in case. As the leader of this team, he couldn’t be distracted by his devastating attraction to his ex-wife or the possibility of reconciling with her.
Whoa…wait…reconciling? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. He would be foolish to set himself up for a fall. Solace had divorced him, and their relationship was over. Sure, she might have residual feelings for him, but she was most likely interested in letting him down gently.
Yet…she had kissed him back. Their passion had almost gotten out of control. But he had pulled away, not wanting to rush anything so important as his ex-wife’s feelings or taking advantage of her vulnerability. He surely didn’t want to be a cliché couple that fucked, then refused to talk about what had broken them apart. Making love is what he wanted to do with Solace, but did he want to get in that deep then get hurt all over again?
Fuck. It would almost be worth it to have her again, have her look at him like he meant something as important to her as she was to him.
Their past was getting dredged up at the most inopportune time, and he had to remain professional. There were lives in his hands, important, precious lives. His duty was to his team first and foremost, especially with the kind of evil bitch he was going after. She wouldn’t make it easy on them and was as cunning and ruthless as a psychopath.
He loved every one of his team members. Even now, he could hear them ribbing each other as they packed up. Laughing and trash-talking as they showed each other how much they cared without saying it out loud.
What a bunch of freaking knuckleheads.
A couple of years ago, they had fractured, and it had been touch-and-go there for a while until each of them had matured, worked out their fears and differences, and bonded like he’d never seen before. They were stronger than ever, and he was proud of each of them…husbands, fiancés, and fine, elite SEALs ready to go to battle in a heartbeat no matter the odds.
If it was the last thing he did in this life, Zasha wasn’t going to get away with her plan. She and Angar Said were going down, eliminated, out of the game permanently.
He left the guys with a stern warning to get some shut-eye. As he stepped out of the SEAL ready room, HM—their Afghani interpreter—was heading in his direction. As he met the kid, his dark eyes alight with affection, HM smiled. Among the terps, Fast Lane and his team had bonded with a guy who couldn’t be more than eighteen. He was a movie buff, especially Disney movies. His favorite was The Lion King and he loved the term Hakuna Matata. He took on the nickname HM.
“What do you say, boss?”
Fast Lane smiled in spite of the stress, mission chatter in his head and his situation with his ex-wife. “That you need to be heading in the other direction and your bunk, my friend.”
HM chuckled. “You sound like my mom.”
“I know exactly what kind of trouble you’ll ge
t into with those rabble-rousers. Not today. Get back to your barrack and get some shut-eye. I need you sharp when we insert. I rely on you, HM, heavily. You are always calm and capable during a battle. This is going to be a tough one, and we all need to be on our toes.” Fast Lane was glad he had a private moment with the kid. “Oh, and by the way, I have secured US green cards for you, your mom, and your two sisters.”
HM stopped walking and stared at Fast Lane. Lights jumped in his eyes, and he smiled ear to ear.
“This is true? You’re not pulling my foot?” His voice was breathless, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
The paperwork and bureaucracy had been brutal, but Fast Lane was determined to fulfill the promise he’d made to him and his family when they first met. HM had exceeded all his expectations, served the US proudly and without fail, and he deserved to reap the benefits of his service. As far as Fast Lane was concerned, he was one of the team. He chuckled at the kid’s idiom mistake. Just part of his charm. “It’s true. No foot pulling on my part. You’re getting out of here just like I promised.”
“I can then become a SEAL?” The expectation of his life’s dream was mirrored in his eyes. This was the best part of leading—seeing someone he was mentoring reach their potential.
“As soon as you become a US citizen, you’re eligible.”
HM threw his arms around Fast Lane so abruptly, he hadn’t been prepared, but Fast Lane hugged him back and slapped his back, laughing at the sheer joy as HM jumped like a kangaroo in his enthusiasm.
“Now get out of here,” he growled. “Get some sleep.”
“And, if I do this? What is the reward?” HM asked, his eyes gleaming.
“How about you get to ride with the team in the chopper?”
“That is a done deal,” HM said, taking off like a shot. “I can’t wait to tell my mom!” He ran until he disappeared into the jumble of the barracks. It was a complicated world. Here in Afghanistan, his missions seemed at odds. That he helped some Afghans while killing others was just an indication of the intricate condition of the US mission.
Back in his own room, Fast Lane dialed up his granddad for a video call. He answered after a couple of rings. “Everything all right, boy?”
“Yeah, just calling to touch base.” Fast Lane was going to keep this light. He didn’t want his granddad to worry. He had taken on a lot when he’d assumed responsibility for an orphan. Fast Lane’s parents, his granddad’s son and daughter-in-law, had been killed by a drunk driver.
His grandfather was a tough guy. There was a part of him that he kept very well hidden, a private part that no one ever saw.
Even when his son had died, he’d never openly grieved. The shock, the numbing sense of loss, had been devastating for both of them. But his grandfather was like a rock. He was a solid, steady source of comfort for Fast Lane at ten, for his grandma, Grace. He dealt with the funeral arrangements and the settling of the estate with a grim, dogged determination that was almost frightening.
His grandmother had been beside herself with grief, but she had never skimped on the comfort she’d given Fast Lane. But it wasn’t until Fast Lane had woken up from a nightmare and went to find his grandfather that he’d discovered how deep his pain went. He was in the garage when Fast Lane stumbled on him. He was sobbing so hard, he had fallen to his knees. In front of him had been a bicycle that he was fixing up for Fast Lane. It had been his dad’s and it was clear his grandfather had finally given in to his grief. Alone and isolated. It was almost as though he was afraid to let anyone see how deep his emotions ran, and it was then that he fully realized just how good and strong a man he was.
Over time, Fast Lane realized that his grandfather was guarded where he was concerned. He knew why. Of all the people his grandfather cared about, barring his grandmother, he was all that was left of his only son. His boy’s legacy.
His grandfather hadn’t been ecstatic when Fast Lane joined the SEALs, but he’d been damn proud and supportive.
From ten to eighteen, he hadn’t given his grandfather one moment of anxiety. His grandfather would say, “What you going to do, boy?” and Fast Lane would reply, “I’ll do my best for you, Grandpa.”
He’d done his homework, excelled at school, worked his tail off in his grandfather’s garage, and never complained. He’d learned so many skills from the old man, Fast Lane could never measure them. He had been so grateful to have his grandparents in his life.
His grandparents made sure they were there for him, but with that steady strength of his, his grandfather had quietly become the center of his orbit, and he never again experienced that awful feeling of aloneness—until Solace. But even then, all he had to do was talk to his grandfather, and the old man knew what to say.
“So, what’s going on wherever it is you are?”
“Cold. Very bitterly cold.”
“So that cold-weather training will come in handy, then. It’s beautiful here in San Diego.” His grandfather’s mouth lifted into a hint of a smile, as he grabbed a carton of juicy-looking strawberries.
“Nice. Thanks for rubbing it in, Grandpa.”
He chuckled, rinsing the fruit under the water, then transferring them to a plastic container. He chose a big one and took a bite. After polishing it off, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, watching Fast Lane with those bright, still sharp eyes.
Fast Lane shifted, then swore softly in his head, looking away.
His grandfather’s attention was still fixed on him. “What’s wrong, boy?”
Experiencing a rush of affection, Fast Lane shrugged and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Hmm. Nothing, huh? First off, you look guilty, like you are hiding something from me. Secondly, you called me twice in as many days, and this wasn’t our next scheduled face-to-face. Spill it, boy.”
“I’m just tired and cold. I guess I lost track of time.”
“That so? Not like you to complain…ever.” The fleeting smile he gave Fast Lane didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Fast Lane rubbed at the back of his neck. “Unlikely as hell. Don’t bullshit me, Ford.”
“Solace is here,” he said as a desperate diversion.
His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “Is she? Twice in two months. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you both something.”
“Maybe,” Fast Lane said, his throat getting thick thinking suddenly how devastated the old guy would be if something happened to his grandson.
His grandfather came closer to the screen scrutinizing Fast Lane. “Why do I have this feeling that you’re dodging the issue?”
Because you know me too well, he silently answered. “You’ve gotten suspicious in your old age.”
Real amusement finally showed in his eyes, and he leaned back against the counter. “I don’t think so.”
“Grandpa.”
“No. There’s no need to try to pull the wool over my eyes. You’re getting spun up and it’s a particularly difficult mission.” Fast Lane opened his mouth, but his grandfather held up his hand. “Boy, I know you can’t go into the details, but all I have to say is that I love you, too, and take care of yourself and those fine men you lead.” His voice thickened as he talked, and Fast Lane held onto his composure as best he could. “Oh, and don’t let that beautiful woman slip through your fingers again. Get what needs to be said, said, then marry her ass again.”
“You always cut right to the chase.”
His grandfather chuckled even through the strain in his eyes. “Saves time and bullshit.” His grandfather cleared his throat. “Just…come back to me, Ford.”
“I’ll do my best for you, Grandpa.”
He gave Fast Lane a quick nod, his eyes glinting, then disconnected the call.
He closed his computer and lay down on his bunk to catch sleep during the last few hours before they went downrange and into a fight that was going to be a bitch.
It was dark when he woke up, his alarm blaring. He turned it off and got dressed,
making sure all his armor was snugly and correctly in place. After stepping outside of his quarters, he hefted his sixty-pound pack, the weight mingling with his seventy-pounds of body armor and headed toward the flight line and the choppers.
There were going to be two assault Black Hawks. The SEALs in one and the Afghan National Army in the other. They were led by Firooz, a strong leader, a fierce warrior with extensive combat experience Fast Lane and his team had trained along with four interpreters who would coordinate with Firooz for the assault.
It was admirable that Firooz was able to even procure terps. These guys had a bull’s eye on their backs now that the war in Afghanistan was going to play out diplomatically. The Taliban wouldn’t forgive or forget their betrayal.
Fast Lane had a burning need to see Zasha dead, and thoughts of getting his hands around her throat and squeezing the fucking life out of her colored his focused thoughts.
The rotors of the choppers started spinning as he and his team, the Afghanis, and the terps boarded. He waited until his men were inside, but just as he was going to board, he noticed Solace wasn’t in the cockpit.
He frowned just as there was a touch to his arm.
He turned and Solace was there in her uniform, no flight suit. “You’re not flying with us.”
She shook her head, a smile ghosting her lips. “Not this time.”
“Did something—”
“I can’t explain. Just, be careful, Ford, please.” She reached out and grasped his forearm, and a tremor went through her. He could see the struggle she was having. It was in the starkness of her gaze. He could feel it in the death grip she had on him. In her eyes, she silently told him they had unfinished business, but it had to be tabled now. “Do what you have to do. No mercy.”
The pilot banged on the window, and Fast Lane’s head jerked toward the man, who raised his hand and made a whirling motion. It was time to go.
He looked back, but all he saw was Solace’s retreating back.
There was no more time. His head needed to be in the game.