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“Take him,” Ronan commanded at almost the same time Wolf’s weapon fractured the silence of the night.
“Down.”
“Move.” Ronan was running as he ordered his men forward. Stryker and Wraith wrangled the barbed wire as Jug cut the shit with bolt cutters from his kit. “Dude?” Ronan had their six, and Wolf had his.
“Nothing … No, wait, we have movement. People coming out of the barracks. Yep, a vehicle moving now.”
“Which direction?” Ronan demanded.
Dude answered, “Out of the village to your location.”
Ronan turned and looked at his crew. “Jug, get that shit open.”
“Roger.” Juggernaut ripped the barbed wire away, leaned back, and kicked at the door. It slammed open, and the people inside the compound gasped in surprise.
Ronan was the first through the door. He spoke clearly into the darkness. “Jack Tillman?”
“Here, I’m here. Are you American?”
“I am. Everyone up. We have to move now.”
“My wife can’t walk,” an older man said, staying beside a woman on the ground as the three younger men hustled to the gate.
Ronan stopped one of the men who looked strong enough to carry the slight woman. “You, go get her and carry her.”
The man looked confused. “What? Let her husband carry her. Why me?”
Ronan pulled the asshat toward him and growled, “Because I’m carrying a fucking weapon, and I told you to do it, fuckwad.” Selfish people sucked, and that guy had a major pool of suckage going on.
The man who answered as Jack Tillman turned back. “Brandon, do as you're told.”
Ronan sneered at the guy. He motioned Tillman back toward Wraith, his second in command. Brandon swore and went back, none too gently picking up the older woman. Jug stopped him before he took two steps and got about an inch away from the man’s face before hissing, “Listen here, slick, you hurt that nice lady or cause her any undue pain, andI’m going to make it my business to fuck you up. Got it?”
The woman had tears in her eyes, and the older man stood beside the younger, obviously worried about his wife. Brandon snarled, “Yeah, I got it, tough guy.”
Jug still held the guy. He looked over at Ronan. “Skipper, I’ll carry the lady. We need to leave this fuckwad here. He thinks he’s a tough guy. Let him deal with ISIS when they get here.”
“Copy,” Ronan said and turned his back on the gathering.
“What? Man, you can’t do that. They can’t leave me!” Brandon sounded a bit like a thirteen-year-old girl with that whining.
Ronan spun on his heel and walked back to Brandon. “What you fail to realize is I can do anything the fuck I want. This ismyteam.Youarenotthe mission, Brandon.You. Are. A. Liability.Make yourself useful, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get your ass back to the States in one piece.” Ronan pointed toward the gate. “Move, now.”
Wolf appeared by the gate. “Skipper, I see headlights.”
“Wolf, get them out of here and to Wraith,” he snapped. Through his comms, he ordered, “Wraith,get these people to the landing site. Don’t hold the plane. If we aren’t there, get the fuck out of the country.”
“Copy,” the deep voice of his second in command answered. Wraith was a man of few words. He spoke primarily through his actions.
“Jug, let’s buy some time.”
The big guy nodded. “On your six, Skipper.”
“Another vehicle leaving the village. Recommend hightailing it out of there, Skipper,” Dude relayed.
“They need time. You heard the situation. What’s the ETA on our bird?” Ronan said as he and Jug ran down the main corridor toward the compound's gate.
“Twenty minutes. Entering the airspace in seven minutes.”