Page 39

Laryn immediately unstrapped herself and went to her knees, inching forward once again to get to that damn panel. This time she was going to check the fuses. She hoped like hell one was simply loose .

“Hold on,” Tate called out just before he banked left.

Laryn’s hand flew out and landed on his thigh as she held herself up.

As soon as they turned left, the chopper went back to the right.

They were weaving all over the sky. It was exciting, but also scary as hell, and Laryn had a momentary pang of regret.

What the hell was she doing here again? Oh yeah, if she didn’t make sure the night-vision technology worked, they were all doomed. As were the brave men on the ground.

Determination welled inside her, and Laryn focused on what she was doing. Leaning closer, she took out the small penlight she always carried. Being careful to cover most of the beam so it didn’t blind the two pilots using their headsets with night-vision, she used it to examine the small fuses.

Bingo. There was one that was barely attached. Reaching forward, Laryn pushed it in, satisfaction settling in her gut as it sank home. Looking up, she saw the light that had been flickering was now once more shining steadily.

Slamming the panel door back on for the second time, she scooted backward toward the seat she’d vacated.

The sound of gunfire was extremely loud all around her, despite the headphones.

The entire chopper vibrated as Tate and Pyro fought the ISIS operatives on the ground.

Laryn was glad now that she couldn’t see what was happening.

This was freaking scary. And even though she was glad she was there to help fix the FLIR, she wished she could wiggle her nose and be back on the ship, safe and sound, even if she’d be worrying about the fate of her pilots. Especially Tate.

“Three o’clock!” Pyro exclaimed.

“I see ’em!” Tate said as he banked hard to the right.

The vibrations and noise from the missiles they were firing made Laryn hunker down next to the nearest seat. She hadn’t been able to get back into hers with the way Tate was flying. It was all she could do to hold on and not go flying across the wide empty space behind the pilot’s seats.

“Going in for extraction.” Laryn heard Buck say.

“We’ve got your six,” Pyro assured him.

Several tense moments went by as Tate and Pyro continued to fly around the area and shoot at what she could only assume were enemy forces on the ground.

“Problem,” Obi-Wan said. “We’ve got two SEALs missing. They were injured and weren’t able to make the pickup. They’re almost a klick to the east.”

“We’ve got ’em,” Tate said immediately.

“We can’t stay. Got two men bleeding out,” Buck informed them.

“Go! We’ll get ’em and be on your heels,” Tate ordered, turning the chopper toward what Laryn assumed was the east.

She held her breath. This was almost done.

All they had to do was pick up the last two injured men and they’d be headed back to the ship.

She had a feeling this little jaunt wasn’t exactly going to make waiting on the ship during future missions any easier.

Having firsthand experience about what they went through, what they did, would make her stress levels soar even higher.

“You see anything?” Tate asked Pyro.

“Nothing. Wait, there’s a few heat signatures to the north of the LZ.”

“We’ll make a pass, see what kind of firepower they have.”

Laryn held her breath as the chopper flew in what she presumed was a circle.

“Nothing. They’re not firing.”

“I don’t like this,” Tate said. “But we have to get those men.”

“When we land, I’ll get out and provide cover,” Pyro said.

Get out? Laryn didn’t like the sound of that…but it made sense. If the SEALs were injured and there were men nearby, probably hostiles, someone would have to make sure they kept their distance as the SEALs made their way toward the chopper.

But what if they couldn’t walk? How would they get there?

Worry ate at her gut, but she kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t the expert here. Yes, she’d gone through basic training, but that wasn’t going to help in this situation. The best thing she could do was stay out of the way, let Pyro and Tate do their thing. They were trained for this.

“Here we go,” Tate said as the chopper began to descend. Fast.

Just when Laryn thought they were going to slam into the ground, Tate pulled up slightly and she barely felt a bump as they landed.

“Go!” Tate said.

Pyro took off his headset and flew past where Laryn was huddled on the floor of the chopper. He slid the large side door back and disappeared into the darkness.

What seemed like minutes went by, but it was probably only seconds before she heard Pyro yelling.

Tate obviously heard him too, because he swore, then he was out of his seat. He didn’t take time to explain what he was doing. He didn’t need to; it was more than obvious he was going to help his friend and fellow pilot.

Before he left, he paused, taking time he most certainly didn’t have to reach into the holster strapped to his thigh. He pulled out the firearm he kept there and handed it to Laryn without a word.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but there was no time for any of them.

Before she could blink, Tate jumped out the open door and ran toward the sound of Pyro’s voice.

Laryn took off her own headset and knelt by the edge of the open door, peering into the darkness, straining to see or hear anything as she gripped the pistol Tate had given her so tightly, she had no doubt her knuckles were turning white with the pressure.

The rotor blades were still spinning above her head and she held her breath, hoping against hope to see Tate and Pyro returning with the injured SEALs any second now.

To her surprise, it wasn’t either of the pilots or the special forces soldiers who appeared as if out of nowhere.

It was three men. She might’ve thought they were also SEALs, based on their size—except they were literally dressed from head to toe in black, including masks pulled over their faces.

Only their eyes were showing, and these men weren’t injured in any way.

She heard shots ring out in the direction Tate and Pyro had gone, but the men didn’t even pause.

They came right at her, reaching up and grabbing her by the front of her coveralls and roughly pulling her out of the back of the helicopter before she could even think to use the gun Tate had given her.

The weapon was wrenched out of her hand as Laryn opened her mouth to scream.

Then a black-gloved hand clamped over her mouth, silencing any noise she might’ve made.

Laryn fought with every ounce of strength she had. She was in deep shit, and she knew it. Her only chance was to get away and hide in the darkness. Wait for Tate and Pyro to return. And they would return, she knew that without an ounce of doubt.

As one man struggled to control her, to keep her contained as she thrashed and squirmed and tried to bite the hand that covered her mouth, one of the other men leaped up into the MH-60.

Laryn had the horrified thought that he was going to lie in wait for the others to return, then assassinate them—but instead, the sound of automatic gunfire broke out from inside the bird.

She was confused for a split second, then realized what the guy was doing. He was shooting up her chopper! She could see sparks flying from the cockpit as bullets ripped through the metal .

“Noooooo!” she yelled, but it was muffled behind the hand covering her mouth. Tate and the others definitely weren’t leaving. They weren’t going to be able to use the MH-60 as a weapon against the people who had her in their grasp either.

No. That chopper wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The number of bullets the asshole continued to spray into the cockpit guaranteed that.

She still expected the men to wait around to ambush the pilots, but to her surprise, the one holding her began to drag her away from the helicopter.

Fighting harder, not wanting to become a prisoner of war, Laryn did her best to try to get the man to loosen his grip. Just when she thought she might do it, that she might get away, the man who’d been serving as a lookout, his rifle at the ready, turned toward her.

The last thing she saw before she was knocked out was the butt of his rifle, coming at her face.

Edge paced the room the pilots had taken over for their use on the destroyer. On aircraft carriers, they had a ready room specifically for pilots. He didn’t really care one way or another, as long as they had someplace to prepare for their missions and go over intel.

“Laryn wouldn’t have messed that up,” Chaos said. He was also pacing the room.

“I know,” he said with a nod.

“I mean, a fucking loose connection? How does that even happen?”

Edge didn’t bother to respond this time. He was as irritated and bothered as his copilot that they’d been taken off the mission at the last minute. Both pilots were now listening to the radio chatter as their team headed inland to pick up the SEALs .

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but Edge ignored it. All his attention was on the conversation they were listening in on.

But the second the phone stopped vibrating, it started up again.

Edge didn’t have anyone back home who would be so desperate to get a hold of him.

No wife—his ex didn’t count; she wouldn’t contact him if she was literally dying, she hated him that much—no kids, no parents, no siblings.

And his best friends were deployed to this destroyer with him.

He ignored the cell again, but when whoever was on the other end called a third time, Edge huffed out a breath of annoyance and reached for the damn thing.

He had no idea who could be calling, as this was his emergency phone; it used satellites instead of cell towers, and he hadn’t given the number to many people.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

“Is this Roman Aldrich?” a man asked. “Edge?”

“Who wants to know?”