Page 1 of Deadly Betrayal

Prologue

Two years ago

Afghanistan, on the outskirts of Kabul

“Suck it up, guys!” Staff Sergeant KadenChristiansen called to his men as they hopped out of the jeepgrumbling. In an hour, the sun would be setting over Kabul, but thetemperature was still flirting with ninety-five. Heat shimmered inthe dust rising off the dirt road and sweat dripped down Kaden’sback under his type IV personal body armor, the highest level ofprotection offered by the good old U. S. of A.

As Delta Force operators, Kaden and his menusually strove to blend in with the locals. Today, however, atCaptain Hainey’s insistence, they’d forgone the traditional Afghanwhite top and loose pants known asshalwar kameezand werewearing the standard digital camo, boots, and helmets favored byAmerican troops. They looked military, but there wasn’t an insigniaor nametag in sight.

Their orders today were to babysit amedicine-for-information exchange. Kaden didn’t understand why thefuck the captain needed a Delta Force unit to oversee an op a teamof grunts could easily handle. Talk about overkill.

But orders were orders.

Kaden quickly assigned tasks. “Hoffman andSanchez, take point. Cooper and Lynch, you’ve got rear guard.Reynard, you carry the meds.”

Jake Reynard, the unit’s newest member, shothim a dirty look. “When you gonna stop hiding me under your wing,Sergeant?”

“When I know for sure you can fly.” Kadentapped the kid on the back of the head. Jake was twenty-three, thesame age Kaden’s little brother Thomas would have been now. A pangspiked him in the chest. “Stay close,” he said, his voice gruffwith regret.

Hefting the crate onto his shoulders, Jakerolled his eyes. “You got it, Sergeant.” Jake’s coloring wassimilar to Thomas’s, and when he made a face the way he’d justdone, the resemblance to his brother was striking. More than that,there was a hollowness in Jake’s eyes, the same one Thomas had hadafter… Yeah. Every time Kaden saw it, it killed him.

Shaking off the memories, Kaden ordered histeam forward. In formation, they tramped through the pitted streetsof Kabul’s Old City district until they reached the designated droplocation. They were meeting up with a warlord named RashidAbdullah. The man would give them some credible intel on theTaliban, and in return, he’d receive the crate of medicines for hisvillage. The medicine was the only reason Kaden hadn’t made more ofa stink with the captain. Well, that and the fact that as a rule,Kaden trusted the man and followed his orders.

When they arrived, Kaden took in the sadscene before him. This neighborhood had suffered; the devastationspanned nearly an entire block, every building leveled. Mud bricksmixed with scraps of clothing, broken dishes, shattered furniture,and rusty brown spots he was sure were the bloody remnants of aTaliban attack during the previous year. He surveyed thesurrounding buildings, and his neck began to prickle.

Fuck.

“Eyes open, men,” he ordered.

“Something wrong, Sergeant?” Hoffman askedfrom his position several yards ahead.

“Nothing I can put my finger on.”

Sanchez shuddered. “Place gives me thefucking creeps.”

There was movement up ahead behind a mound ofrubble. The warlord and his men. “Let’s get this over with,” Kadensaid. Hitching up his weapon, he began to walk.

The men stayed in formation, providingthree-hundred-and-sixty degree cover to their unit. Kaden loved howin sync they were. A well-oiled killing machine, all of themtopnotch marksmen. He’d never had a better bunch of guys under hiscommand. Twenty feet from the warlord and his fighters, Kaden gavethe order to halt.

“Confirm the deal,” he said to Jake.

“What do you have for us?” Jake asked inperfect Pashto. How the guy had earned his language skills was astory in and of itself. He’d passed all the psychological andphysical tests the Delta Force recruiters had thrown at him, butwhat Jake had been through in the year before becoming an operatorwould have broken most other men.

Rashid Abdullah shook his head. “Show me thegoods first.”

Jake translated for Kaden. Although hisPashto wasn’t as good as Jake’s, Kaden understood the warlord’srudimentary request. Pretending ignorance was part of the act. Itgave Kaden a chance to think before answering, and it always putthe other man at ease, made him feel in control.

“Tell him no. He gives us the intel or weleave.”

Jake relayed the message. The warlord’s facedarkened and he took several steps closer, his fighters alltightening their grips on their weapons. Sanchez and Hoffman didthe same, pointing their MP5s at the warlord’s chest. The man frozeand raised his hands. Then he called one of his men forward. Thefighter approached, carrying a duffel bag, which he set on theground midway between Jake and the warlord. The warlord pointed tothe bag. “It’s all in there. Just as the captain asked.”

Simultaneously, Kaden’s entire unit tookseveral large steps back.What the fuck was in the bag?Kaden’s neck prickled so much, burrs might as well have been underhis armor. They were supposed to receive verbal intelligence, not abag of God knew what. Did the warlord plan on becoming become amartyr today?

Jake cut Kaden a questioning glance, one hedidn’t know how to answer. Deliver the meds, or listen to hisinstincts? His gut screamed that they needed to haul ass and getthe fuck out of there.

Something glinted on the roof of a decrepitthree-story two-hundred-and-fifty yards away, and adrenalineflooded Kaden’s system. Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, hespotted the source: sunlight bouncing off a rifle’s scope.

I fucking knew it.“Down. Get down!”he shouted as he dove at Jake.