Page 1

CHAPTER 1

“ S kipper, five hostages, northwest corner. They’re in the pen like you and Wraith figured. The walls are about ten feet high.” Ronan Alexander swore silently at Wolf’s information. The satellite photos showed the square area. That was where he’d hold hostages, which meant someone had brains in this outfit.

“Guards?” Ronan motioned to Juggernaut, sending him to the left, and then silently signaled Wraith to the right. Stryker moved up behind him as they held.

“Four.” Everyone heard Wolf in their comm devices.

“In your sights?”

“One clear. No movement,” Wolf clarified. They weren’t walking the perimeter, just sitting on it, which made him rethink the intelligence of the people who took the hostages.

“Copy.” Ronan acknowledged Wolf’s report. Wolf was the best marksman on the team and in position as overwatch if they needed cover fire during extraction. He trusted the four men on his team with his life. They were closer than teammates. They were brothers with a link forged through gunfire, blood, sweat, and, yeah, even a few tears.

Ronan glanced at his watch. “Dude, are we clear?”

“Affirmative. No vehicles, people, or aircraft moving in your area. Your C-17 is twenty-seven minutes out,” Dude, the faceless CCS voice that had worked with them for most of their missions, replied. Someday, Ronan wanted to meet the guy. He’d become the sixth teammate whether or not he knew it.

“Wraith to the east. Jug is west and has the power.” Ronan lifted from his knees into a crouch. “Stryker and I are moving up the center.” The team had been on over a hundred missions together, but there was no such thing as a routine op. He reinforced the plan with his words as he and Stryker moved forward down the center of the small compound to where the hostages were being held. Dude would be able to track his men with the infrared satellite surveillance system.

“Copy,” Wolf said, and then silence reigned as they moved in on the hostages.

Their night vision optics were an advantage that allowed them to move through the dark silently, and they would leverage that edge when Jug cut the electricity. His team advanced silently, using practiced movements and knowing exactly where they’d stop and hold.

“In position,” Wraith said.

“Stryker and I are in position. Cut it, Jug.” Ronan closed one eye while keeping the other open.

“Affirm,” Jug replied.

The lights flickered and then went dark. Ronan dropped his NVGs and opened the eye he’d closed, switching his vision by closing the other eye. He could hear the guards shouting at each other. The mix of Arabic and Kurdish languages was expected.

“Move,” Ronan commanded. The team advanced to the northwest corner of the compound. One of the guards cussed viciously and argued with another about who would start the generator. Finally, the guard hocked phlegm into the grass and started walking straight toward where Ronan and Stryker had moved. Ronan handed his M-4 to Stryker and pulled out his knife. It was a throwback model, Rambo as fuck, but it fit his hand perfectly.

Ronan let the man walk past him before springing up, slapping his hand over the man’s mouth, and slicing his throat. The bastard might not have been one of the men who’d killed two of the hostages on video and blasted it over the internet, but he’d aligned himself with the devil, and Ronan was paying this fucker his due. He pulled the man next to the building and slid his knife back into its sheath before taking his M-4 from his communications and entry specialist.

“One down,” Ronan said as they advanced on the holding area.

“Two,” Wraith said quietly.

“Target acquired,” Wolf said.

“Jug?”

“Hold on,” Jug whispered.

Ronan’s head popped up as he heard something drop and a bang on what Ronan assumed was the metal wall to the west.

A man called out in Turkish, “What are you doing? Running into walls?” The guy laughed uncomfortably, and after an awkward moment, he called out, “Raafe?”

“Three,” Jug said a bit breathlessly .

“Anyone have eyes on four?”

“Negative.” Wraith’s comment was immediate.

“No,” Jug said.

“I have him,” Wolf said. “He has a radio, Skipper.”

“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, and I’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 is my team. You are not the 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.”

“Copy.” He motioned for Jug to take the far side of the gate.

“We take these guys out, get their vehicle, and hightail it to the LZ. The woman and her husband won’t make that run. They can ride.”

“You reading my thoughts again?” Jug chuckled. “I’d like to drag Brandon behind the vehicle. Can I please? We really don’t get to have any fun anymore.”

“Meh, is he worth it?” Ronan said as he saw the glare of headlights .

“Worth what?” Jug asked as they both slipped out of the compound and took up positions.

“Trading in your fun card to drag his ass? You only get one fun card a year,” Ronan asked as the Jeep bounced down the rutted road to the holding compound. ISIS had scattered into that part of the world, and some war-hardened fighters could still build and lead a formidable opposition. From what he saw, it wasn’t one of those factions, but he wouldn’t take any risks. They watched the vehicle bouncing down the five-mile-long pitted, rutted trail that someone decided to call a road.

“Damn it, Skipper. Now you got me reconsidering using my card,” Jug complained.

“Don’t hurt yourself with all that thinking,” Wolf said, and they didn’t hear it on the comms; he was close by.

Ronan didn’t smile but knew one of the three men would stay behind with them. “Where are you?”

“Above you.”

“Didn’t I tell you to get them out of there?” Ronan growled.

“I did. Gave them to Stryker and Wraith. Then I came back.”

Ronan snorted, “Remind me to fire you when this is done. ”

“Can’t promise that, Skipper. I don’t think I could make it on the outside. People are too people-ey.” Wolf chuckled.

“God, yes. People-ey. I’m using that, Wolf.” Jug chuckled.

Ronan lifted his weapon. “We all will.” He glanced across the drive. “We need the vehicle. Don’t break this one, Jug.”

“Hey, that was one time—” The sound of Ronan’s M-4 almost obliterated Jug’s answer. The four men in the vehicle were expertly caught in a crossfire between Ronan and Jug. Wolf picked off the one man who’d managed to jump from the Jeep.

“Skipper, you have less than three minutes before the next vehicle,” Dude informed them.

“Roger.” Ronan jumped in the vehicle, turned off the headlights, and waited the five seconds it took for Jug to jump in the back and Wolf to clamber into the passenger seat. He gunned the Jeep through the compound and yelled, “Hang on!” as he drove the Jeep through the fencing.

Metal whipped at him through the open doorway, slashing his cheek. Wolf swore bitterly as he kicked chain-link fencing and shattered the windshield from the window frame and out of the way so they could see where the fuck they were going .

Ronan drove like a crazy man and had his team and the hostages in his sights in less than a minute. Pulling up, he yelled, “Get in!”

He wasn’t sure how in the hell they managed it, but five hostages and five team members clambered onto the frame, and he hauled ass to the landing strip. The trip was insane and far too long for his liking. When he parked on the meadow's edge where the plane would land, he ordered, “Wraith, you have the hostages. Everyone else, a lateral dead zone at a hundred meters starting on me.”

As the team moved, Ronan dropped to his knee, checking his weapon while he got the scoop from CCS. “Update me, Dude.”

“Skipper, they’re idiots. They stopped and looked like they were searching the compound. No other movement. You have time.”

Ronan was damn glad they’d waited until most of the ISIS faction had left the tiny village. They’d dispersed, heading toward another village about ten klicks away. He had no clue why they’d left, but he thanked the big guy for the luck.

“Aircraft?”

“On final,” CCS relayed.

“Wraith, load as soon as they touch down.”

“Affirm,” Wraith acknowledged .

“Stryker, get that woman and her husband into the belly of that bird and stay with Wraith.” Ronan knew Wraith would have the primary in his sights. The fucker needed to be toast, but that wasn’t their mission. They were there to retrieve the son of a bitch. The other younger men would have to move their asses to get on the bird. They appeared healthy. They damn well could get themselves into the plane.

“Already got her, Skipper,” Stryker answered.

Good man . Ronan lifted his weapon and scanned the distance. “Headlights?”

“Nada,” Jug said. The man wasn’t the most military in his comms discipline. Hell, he wasn’t the most military, period.

“Negative,” Wolf chimed in.

“Another vehicle is coming from the village, Skipper. Looks like they were waiting for backup.”

“Party time,” Jug said from his position.

“Jug, switch locations with Wolf,” Ronan ordered.

“Aw, Skipper, I’m faster than I was,” Jug groaned. “I don’t need special favors.”

“Jug, we have one shot to sprint to that bird. You’re not as fast as Wolf and me, and you will need the lead that one hundred meters will give you. Stop arguing and do what the hell I tell you. ”

“I’m doing it. I don’t like it, but I’m doing it,” the big guy complained.

Ronan glanced at his watch. Maybe they’d catch a break and bolt to the aircraft before the idiots in the camp advanced.

“Both vehicles are moving toward your location, Skipper.” Well, fuck. Dude dashed that thought as soon as it entered his head.

“Hold until I fire.” He stayed relaxed until he heard the C-17, which would cover any advance by the vehicles. Headlights bounced over the ground. “Hold.” Ronan lifted his weapon. “Take out the vehicles.”

As the C-17 touched down, they unleashed hell on the two vehicles. He heard the aircraft reverse its engines. Wraith and Stryker would be loading as soon as that aircraft slowed enough to turn. Ronan emptied his clip and reloaded in one smooth movement. “Jug, go.” He lit up the vehicles with Wolf. When he’d fired about half his clip, he was up. “Haul ass, Wolf.”

He all-out sprinted to the meadow where the aircraft was powering up. Which meant it was turning around and getting ready to launch. Both he and Wolf slung their weapons over their shoulders. He saw Jug hauling ass across the meadow, losing him after a moment in the dirt and dried grasses that the engines propelled into the air. Wolf was just ahead of him. The aircraft started down the meadow, clearing the debris field as Jug jumped onto the hydraulic gate and rolled, grabbing the grate and extending his arm. Wraith was on the grating with his weapon at the ready. As Wraith started to fire, Wolf grabbed Jug’s arm and immediately reached back for him.

Ronan clutched Wolf’s arm, and Jug pulled them both onto the lifting gate as Wraith continued cover fire. They rolled onto the grating and tumbled into the belly of the bird as the gate lifted and closed.

“Hang on!” Ronan bellowed and grabbed loose straps and metal ribs of the plane as the aircraft launched into a vertical takeoff that tumbled every fucking thing, including two of the hostages, back at him and most of his crew. Ronan grabbed one man, and Jug pulled Brandon in. Looking over at him, Jug lifted his eyebrows comically. Ronan shook his head. Jug cocked his head and pulled the guy out of the way of a shoe that slammed into the back of the plane. Jug had a heart of gold, but you had to dig to get to it. It was worth the effort.

When the aircraft leveled out, Ronan took the men back up to the front of the plane .

“I told you to strap in,” Wraith said as he stood. His dark hair and blue eyes pinned the two younger men against the aircraft's wall. The younger men were banged up, but they’d live.

Ronan walked over to the older couple where Stryker, their only team member officially trained as an EMT, talked to the woman. “How are you doing, ma’am?”

“I’m in pain, but I’m alive, and I know I have your team to thank for that.” Her face was drained of any color. He turned toward Stryker with a questioning look.

The guy winked at the lady. “Faye and I are betting on a nasty ankle break, but she’s tough.”

The woman looked up at her husband. “We’ve had to be. We’ve been missionaries over here for the last seven years.”

“But it’s time to go home.” Her husband took her hand.

“Yes.” She nodded. “For a while, at least.”

Ronan put his hand on the older gentleman’s shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll make sure you get to where you’re going.”

“Thank you.” The man nodded. “I know we weren’t the reason you were sent. ”

“You’re right, but I’m glad I was able to be there when you needed the help.”

“Guardian Angels can come robed in camouflage, too,” the man said with a smile.

That pulled a bark of laughter from Ronan. “I’m no angel, sir.” He headed over to where the reason for his team being in-country sat. “Do you have the information?” He wasn’t going to beat around the bush with that fucker, either.

“I’ll give it up when I get my deal.” The man lifted his shoulders and chin defiantly.

Ronan dropped into a squat in front of the man. “Mr. Tillman, you’ll give me the information now, or I’ll open that door”—he pointed to the access hatch on the side of the plane—“and toss your ass out of this plane. From this altitude, you’ll freeze and shatter when you hit the ground, as will anything you have on you. We don’t care if we get the information you stole. We only care that they don’t.”

“What if it isn’t on me?” the man sneered.

Ronan looked from him to the young men with him. “Then it’s with them. Same process, just three bloody ice chunks instead of one.” He extended his hand. “Now.”

Jack stared at him for a long moment. Ronan’s expression didn’t change. With idiots like that, one must let them process their escape routes to see there was no way out.

“You wouldn’t.” That was what he finally came up with. How eloquent.

Not entirely surprised, Ronan stood up. “Boys, strap in.”

His team rushed to seats and started to strap in. “Wait, you can’t be serious.” Jack laughed. “You’ll suck everyone out of this bay if you open that door.”

Ronan laughed. “You’ve been watching too much television, Jack. How the fuck do you think we jump from high altitudes.” He pointed to a harness system above them. “We’re going to be fine. On the other hand, you and your boys will take a flying leap without a parachute.”

Ronan pulled the harness down and hooked it to the line that ran from one side of the bay to the other. “Which one gets to go first?”

“Dad, give him the information,” Brandon said.

“Dad?” Ronan smiled. “That’s so sweet. These your boys?” Ronan pointed from one to the other.

Jack stared daggers at his son and then back at Ronan. “You won’t do it.”

“Okay. Come on, Brandon.” Ronan unlatched Brandon’s seat harness and pulled him up by the collar. Pissing himself, the young man tried to get away from the hold Ronan had on him. “Dad!”

Ronan dragged the man across the bay. He saw the way the older couple looked at him. Having not heard the conversation, they had no idea what Ronan was doing. He hit the latch light, letting the pilots know he wanted to open the door. The crew chief came out of the flight deck. Ronan looked up at the man standing on the second-story landing. The crew chief looked from Ronan to the guy in his grip. Ronan used sign language:

“All clear. Making a point.”

The crew chief gave Ronan a thumbs-up, walked back into the flight deck, and shut the door.

Brandon screamed at his father as Ronan hit the jump light. It would cycle from red to yellow to green, but it wouldn’t open the door. Brandon begged and pleaded with his father.

Ronan had no intention of throwing the man out of the plane, but he’d fake it until that bastard gave up the information he was after.

The light went from red to yellow, and Ronan made his last play. He moved in front of the door and grabbed the lever that would open the hatch if he lifted it.

Jack unbuckled his harness and pulled off his boot. “Here it is!” He threw the boot at Ronan. Wraith was out of his seat in a heartbeat to grab the boot. He checked it over and shook his head no.

When Ronan grabbed the lever again, Jack screamed, “It’s under the insole in the heel!”

Wraith pulled out the insole and looked in. He reached into the boot and worked a bit before pulling out an SD card and holding it up between two fingers. Ronan pushed Brandon back toward his father then took the card from Wraith and walked back over to Tillman. “You’re damn lucky you started your blackmail before that piece of shit ISIS remnant took you hostage.”

Tillman didn’t say a word. There was no bravado or begging. Ronan lifted the card. “If this isn’t real, I’ll be right back here. You’ll be the first one out that door this time, and they’ll follow you.” Tillman’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.

“Fucking father of the year material right there,” Jug said over the comms. Ignoring the comment, Ronan gave the chip to Stryker. “Get this to Dude.”

“Rog-o.” Stryker took the card and headed to where his gear was stowed. When he wasn’t being used as a medic, he ran their comms. Tonight, he was the only one with a secure satellite link on his computer system .

“Dude, you have incoming,” Stryker said when he inserted the disk.

“Roger.” Dude acknowledged.

Ronan sat down beside Wraith, who was away from the others. “He has a copy.”

Wraith nodded in agreement.

“Dude, if this is legit, Tillman and his sons need to be strip searched and their clothes completely disassembled in a search. He’s acting too calm after giving up his bargaining chip. He has at least one copy, if not more. Make sure we have the facilities to do that when we land.”

“I copy.”

Ronan closed his eyes. It was his turn to get some shuteye. Wraith would keep an eye on the team and personnel they’d rescued.

“Skipper?”

Ronan’s eyes popped open immediately. How long had he slept? He glanced at Wraith. “An hour.” The man answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Go ahead,” he croaked.

“Sorry for waking you up. The information is legit, and you have a mission change.”

All the team’s eyes slotted to him. “What information can you give me? ”

“There’ll be a plane on the ground when you land. Friendly forces will handle the delivery of your target and the others. You’ll get on the other plane and head to Syria. Once you arrive at Al-Tanf Garrison, report to the communications building for a mission brief.”

“Roger. Resupply and ammo?”

“Acquired and flying in. You’ll have them before you leave Al-Tanf,” Dude informed him.

“Roger that. Everyone copy?”

He got nods from his team. “ETA to LZ?”

CCS answered, “Forty-five minutes.”

He glanced at his team. “Get some rest. I’ve got them.” He patted his automatic at his hip, making sure Tillman and his boys saw the action.

He sensed his team settle back and take the rest when they could. Learning to fall asleep on command had taken some training, but now, every last one could close their eyes and sleep on command.

He stared at Tillman and wondered where the copy of the information was hidden.

“The quiet son,” Wraith said from beside him. “He’s got the information.”

Ronan chuckled. “Get the fuck out of my head and get some rest. ”

Wraith gave a twitch of a smile, his eyes closed. “Roger that.”

Ronan strolled down the corridor of the communications building at Al-Tanf Garrison. When he reached the SCIF, a secure compartmentalized information facility, he stowed all his comm gear and gave his identification to the guard outside the door. After they confirmed he had the clearance and needed to be in the facility, they signed him in and led him to a small, closet-sized conference room. He snorted as he folded into the small chair and shut the door behind him. The video screen was in hold mode until the SCIF operator connected the secure transmission. Secure comms were only between Ronan and his team via Guardian’s earpieces. About a decade ago, Guardian had acquired frequencies for use that only the highest classification of clearances knew about. Guardian and POTUS could communicate via the proprietary secure comm systems. However, when the need arose, such as a comprehensive mission briefing, SCIFs were still used .

The screen activated, and Jacob King frowned. “Ronan, where the hell are you, a coffin?”

“Yeah, almost.” Ronan chuckled, glancing at the white foam tile that covered the walls. “I think it was a broom closet that’s been repurposed. What do you have for us?”

“An ugly situation. But before I get to that … You were right. Tillman’s son had another SD card on him, which had information not included on the original disk. Good work.”

“Wraith called it.”

Jacob gave a small smile and looked down at his desk. The man was a legend at Guardian. Hell, all the Kings were, but Jacob had cut his teeth with the original Alpha team and he was the default expert for all current team leaders. His history with the company could fill volumes and probably did somewhere in the dusty halls of his father’s business. Jacob sighed. “And now, back to the business at hand. We’ve been requested to secure an IDP that Children’s Hope International is operating so they can draw down and close up. In the past two months, seven of their aid workers have been tortured and murdered. Convoys taking displaced people to safety have been attacked.”

“The fuckers are targeting NGO’s now?” Non- governmental organizations had been working to save internally displaced people, or IDPs, for years now. They were the only ones that seemed to be helping because the Syrian Government hadn’t done a damn thing to help the women and children torn from their homes by war.

“So it seems.” Jacob nodded. “We’ve got some in-country militia trying to help, but they are clueless about how to do so. Your team is the closest, so you get to organize the chaos. It could take a hot minute before I get you any more help. We’re stretched thin.”

“Uncle Jacob, no one says a hot minute anymore.” Ronan laughed when his honorary uncle flipped him off.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. We’ll manage. Supplies?”

“Landing today. I had Deacon go through everything before leaving for Asia with his team yesterday. He had a few special requests we filled before the cargo plane took off.”

“Going to tell me what they were?” His twin brother and he had been leading different teams for almost five years. He rarely saw Deacon, but they texted whenever they weren’t actively on a mission. He figured that was why he’d had no texts when he’d powered up his cell once they’d landed in-country. Deacon preferred working in Asia, and he was a Middle East specialist, so they rarely crossed paths in person.

“Ah, no.” Jacob chuckled. “Nothing illegal or immoral.”

“Good to know.” Ronan snorted. “Better be some saltwater taffy included.”

“We have that stockpiled for the teams.” Jacob lifted a piece and raised his eyebrows.

“We’ve been out for over a week.” His entire team was hooked on the candy. Guardian had developed a recipe that amped up the protein and added vitamins, too, without making it taste like shit. He couldn’t distinguish between the real stuff and the good-for-you candy. Well, better-for-you stuff, at least.

“I added extra. There are one hundred and forty thousand displaced people in twelve IDP camps; from what I understand, the majority of the population in the camp that’s closing is unattended children. You have a pallet of it.”

“Damn, Uncle Jacob, I think a bit of your marshmallow center is showing.”

Jacob barked out a laugh. “Kids are everyone’s weakness. ”

“That’s the truth,” Ronan agreed. He’d seen some shit that would curl your toes, but the shit involving kids, damn, it was the things nightmares were made of.

“Speaking of which, how’s your team doing?”

“Good. Why?”

“Heard rumors you and Deacon may be called up to the mountain.”

“Come again?” Ronan tried to lean forward but was wedged in too tight to move much.

“Come on, you had to know this would be coming someday.”

“Yeah, but not today.” Ronan rubbed his cheek. Hell, he hadn’t shaved in a month, and his beard was full.

“Didn’t say today. Said I’d heard rumors. Figure you’d want to know to get your mind in the right line.”

“We were told we’d have a choice.”

“And you will. Unlike me.” Jacob laughed. “Your father twisted my arm and pushed me into the chair.”

“And you’re still in it.”

“I am, but I’m reaching a point where I’d be okay not sitting in it anymore. Not right now, maybe not next year, but I want to spend more time doing things with your aunt Tori.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ronan nodded. “Damn, not something I thought was coming down the pipe.”

“Exactly what Deacon said.” Jacob leaned back and popped a piece of taffy in his mouth. “Don’t get yourself into a mess with this drawdown. If it gets too dicey, call it. The NGOs are trying to be all things to all people, and we told them the security of their people will come before all else. If you need to, drag them out and load them on a plane. I don’t want anyone with that NGO to die on our watch.”

“No shit.” Ronan nodded. “Access to satellite imagery of the camp?”

“In your kit on the plane.”

“Anything else?” Ronan was ready to hit the shower and scrape a couple of inches of dust off his skin.

“In the brief, I’ve included information on the tunnel system near Aleppo. It’s been ten years since I was there, but my report is included.”

“An emergency egress.” He could see having a backup plan.

“If necessary. Any other communication can be routed through your comms via CCS.”

“Who do we have for this mission? ”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Dude is your primary, as always. Tink will be his relief.”

“Excellent. Someday, I’m going to shake that man’s hand, and Tink is damn good, too.”

“They’re the best we can get,” Jacob agreed. “You take care of yourself and that team, Ronan, whatever it takes.”

“For as long as it takes, Uncle Jacob. For as long as it takes.” The screen went dark, and Ronan closed his eyes for a moment. Working with local militia was not his favorite pastime. Hell, it didn’t even rate on the top one hundred list. He opened the door and managed to un-wedge his ass from the chair.

After making his way to the barracks, where his team waited for him, he opened the door to see Wraith’s weapon was leveled on him. “Got the spooks?” he asked as he walked in.

“Nope,” Jug said. “Just had an unexpected guest who thought they were going to bunk with us.”

Ronan felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” Stryker said. “Had a duffle on his shoulder and, by the looks of him, was greener than a fried tomato.”

Ronan would handle that shit. They were guaranteed a private barracks, a given for all deployments. Guardian would have arranged that in advance of their bed down.

“I’ll work on that issue after we finish here.” He looked at Stryker. “Did you run a scan?”

Stryker flipped him off, meaning he’d scanned the room for listening devices. Ronan pulled a wooden chair out and spun it around, straddling it. “We’re heading for an IDP that’s drawing down. Seven of their staff have been tortured and killed in the last two months.”

“Son of a bitch. They’re targeting the only source of assistance in the fucking country?” Jug shook his head. “Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your ugly-ass face.”

Wolf cocked his head. “Just us?”

Ronan shook his head before muttering, “Local militia.”

Groans came from everyone, including Wraith, which was telling. “Listen, we don’t have a choice in this matter. You know the drill. Alpha will send assistance as soon as he can free it up.”

“How long?” Jug asked.

“As long as it takes to draw down this camp and get the staff out safely. But Alpha did say if it went to hell, we shove the staff into a plane and evacuate. ”

“IDPs are full of kids,” Wraith said. “Ain’t leaving the kids to those fuckers, are we?”

Damn, that was a full diatribe from Wraith. “Not if I can help it, but sometimes, we don’t get to dictate extraction, you know that.”

Wraith nodded. Jug slapped at a bug that was buzzing around his head. “Someone said showers when we landed.”

Ronan chuckled. “Wraith, take your weapon. I’ll stand guard here until you get back, and then I’ll address the ex-wannabe roommate and grab a shower.”

Wraith pushed off the wall he was leaning against. “Let’s go.” The team grabbed their kits and headed out the door. Before he left, Wraith stopped. “This could get messy, Skipper.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ronan said, listening to the door shut behind his team. Messy seemed to be his team’s forte.