Page 3

CHAPTER 3

R onan watched the ragtag group of vehicles approach the meeting point. Wolf was in position just in case things got sticky. Jug, Stryker, and Wraith were spread out, appearing to be lounging around, but they weren’t. The four-by-four Jeep and modified trailer attached to it carried their provisions, ammo, and several surprises for the fuckers attacking those convoys. One thing they learned about the militia in these countries was that trust was earned; it wasn’t given, especially on first meeting the cadre they’d be working with. And Ronan had good reason not to trust this contingent.

The vehicles pulled to a stop, and the occupants dismounted in a careless, haphazard fashion. Ronan watched as the men stretched, leaving weapons in the vehicles, and one whipped out his dick and took a piss on the wheel of the fucking vehicle. His disdain for the crew grew by the second.

A slender man sauntered toward Ronan with an ammo belt perched on his hip and an automatic dangling near his knee. The look was ridiculous, and the ability to use the weapon rested somewhere in the no-way-in-hell category. He stopped in front of Ronan and looked him up and down. The contempt in his gaze was obvious and belligerent. “You are the Guardian, the professional soldier?” Slim, as Ronan had already tagged him, spoke in English.

Ronan lifted an eyebrow and leveled the coldest stare he could conjure on the man. “That depends on who’s asking.”

A couple of Slim’s men turned at Ronan’s comment, their weapons inching his direction. “I am Bilal, Captain of the Northern Front Liberation Force.” The little guy puffed up and extended his arm back toward his men.

Jug pushed away from the tree where he was leaning. His M-4 was tilted in the direction of the approaching men.

Ronan stood up and walked over to the man. “I’m the Guardian, as you said. I was told you would have sixty men.” He looked over the bedraggled men. “I count half that. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Not here.” The man shrugged. “You have us.”

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest and drawled, “Nah. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Slim blinked and jerked a bit. “What does this mean?”

Ronan shrugged. “I’d rather not work with half of what we need.”

“Then you will go alone?” The man laughed. “You will die.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll wait for others. You don’t think we’d depend on only the local militia, do you?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “What others?”

“More of us.” Ronan shrugged. “I could use some downtime as we wait.”

“You got that right,” Stryker agreed from where he stood.

Slim’s eyes traveled to the trailer attached to the armored Jeep they were driving. There was a hunger in his eyes. He wanted the contents even though he didn’t know what it was. Greed was still alive and strong, and Slim needed a fix. The guy shook his head. “No. This is not what was agreed.” Slim’s frown deepened, and his eyes darted from Ronan to Wraith, who hadn’t said a word but was silently standing overwatch on Jug, Stryker, and him.

“You’re right. You didn’t hold up your end. It isn’t what was agreed.” Ronan turned to walk away, but Slim grabbed his arm.

Three M-4s were leveled and pointing at Slim and the group of men who’d congregated to listen to a conversation they probably couldn’t understand. When one of Slim’s men reached for his weapon, a red dot laser sight popped on Slim’s chest. That freaked the crew out in fine fashion.

“Don’t ever touch me.” Ronan leaned over the shorter man.

“I can get the men you need,” Slim said. “They are near.”

“No shit,” Ronan deadpanned. “Five vehicles, approximately twenty-five men plus a supply truck, three clicks to the west behind that stand of hills.”

Dude chuckled. “I like how you use my information, Skipper.”

Ronan didn’t respond to their operator with the satellite feed. “Tell your vehicles and supply truck to come in.”

Slim looked up into the sky. “You have drones?”

Ronan snorted. “We don’t need drones.” He lowered his voice so only Bilal could hear him. “I won’t be tricked. Your men are waiting for us to follow you out, and then you were going to try to kill us and take our weapons.”

“No, this is not true,” Slim said. “We did not know if you were the right people. I would not risk my command. It was a tactical decision.”

“It was an attempt to get something for nothing. You work for me, and you’ll be paid better than anyone else in this country. You fuck with me one more time, and none of your crew will live to see the next sunrise.”

“Jets will be overhead in thirty seconds. Damn, am I good, or am I good? Get ready to be fucking rocked. Low altitude strafing run inbound.” Dude gave him the countdown.

“You speak big words for only four men.”

“Ten. Nine.” Dude counted down the jets.

“Guess again.”

Two F15s screamed overhead. Every one of Bilal’s men and Bilal himself dropped to the ground. Just past the hills where the vehicles were waiting, the jets released their high-powered weapons, and the dust plumed in the air as the practice run ended and the jets angled up and exploded into the sky.

“Damn glad the Syrian Air Force could be hacked and rerouted so easily.” Dude laughed. “Child’s play. ”

Ronan didn’t answer the man as Slim got up and dusted himself off. “We are never alone,” Ronan told him. “We have resources you can’t comprehend. Your leaders made a deal with my people. Honor it.”

Bilal glared at him but eventually nodded. He turned and yelled at his men in Arabic. Ronan heard the men grumble, but the tone was of respect and awe. Bilal stopped that in its tracks with several sharp words.

He got into his banged-up truck without a roof, stood up, and shouted, “You will follow us!”

Ronan stood where he was and shook his head. “No. You’ll follow us.”

Bilal scoffed. “You don’t know where you are going.” He waved his arm and laughed cynically. “The area is vast.”

Ronan whistled, and Wolf dropped out of the tree where he’d been concealed.

Jug jumped into the Jeep and stood behind the M-240 machine gun attached to a specialty mount. He made a show of pulling back the charging handle on the fierce weapon and swiveled the gun to hold the men under his sights. Wraith hopped into the driver’s seat, fired up the Jeep, and Ronan, Stryker, and Wolf took their positions one at a time. Wraith put the vehicle in gear and took off, going around the bottleneck area where the rest of Slim’s people were waiting.

“You’re going to have to watch your back, Skipper. You made a fool of him,” Dude said as they drove.

“People like Bilal are ruthless,” Jug said. “If we’d followed them, we’d be dead. Now, he knows we won’t be tricked. Power and money equal respect out here. Skipper showed him power and offered him money. His greed will keep him in line.”

“For a while,” Ronan added.

“Damn, glad I’m back here with my cheesy chips, soda, and air conditioning.” Dude sighed.

“Just don’t choke on a chip,” Stryker said.

“Or burp in my ear,” Jug added.

“Bathroom breaks during a firefight are discouraged,” Wolf interjected.

“This,” Wraith spoke one word, and the entire team laughed along with Dude.

Ronan smiled as his group let off steam. The meeting between his team and Bilal’s people was structured to show the militia they were working with a superior force. But if that militia decided to take them out, they’d be hard-pressed to come out of the firefight unscathed, even with superior technology and weaponry. That was the why of the meeting. Keep Captain Bilal’s group guessing. Never let them get settled or too close. Those were lessons learned through trial and error, but they were lessons Ronan and his team would never forget. The militia, in most cases—not all, but most—were bands of men out for themselves. Those fighting for freedom were rare; most had been eliminated or pushed from the country long ago. Now, the factions fought each other for resources they could acquire. Resources meant money, and money could buy power.

The militia trailed after Ronan’s vehicle and the towed trailer. Jug was facing backward, watching the procession and keeping an eye on their six. Dude had the airspace cleared, but the satellite had passed, so the road ahead was full of one hell of a lot of unknowns. The GPS was locked on the camp and based on mapping. Dude had given them the smoothest yet most direct route to the IDP camp.

Their point of contact in the camp was the anti-trafficking officer for Children’s Hope International, one F. Buchanan. Ronan knew the guy had been through hell in the last couple of months, so as soon as he got the rundown on how the convoys were planned and organized, he’d make the call if he and his team could protect the camp and the convoys. The information included in the equipment shipment Guardian had flown in stressed the camp's protection. Still, it also included a directive to try to assist in the relocation of the IDPs if at all possible. More personnel and equipment would be inbound, but that would be a minimum of a month away due to the missions currently underway. Suffice it to say, the world was a fucking mess right now, and Guardian only had a finite amount of personnel. Granted, it was double the amount it had had been ten years ago. He applauded Gabby and Charley for the growth of the organization. The girls and Archangel had built a hell of an infrastructure, and the company was thriving, but fuck him standing, he could use some support in country with this mess. However, his team was seasoned by a host of missions, and they’d done more with less.

As they crested a ridge, Ronan saw the camp. Wraith slowed and then stopped. The camp they’d seen in the satellite photographs couldn’t prepare them for the visual before them. A sea of shelters stretched through the small valley. Wraith seemed to catch himself and again put his foot on the gas. As they bounced over the scraggly vegetation heading for the camp, the composition came into view. There were a few tents, but most of the camp was built from whatever the occupants could find. Pieces of tin, canvas, and old clothes stitched together. Ronan noticed how tightly compacted the rows of shelters were positioned as they drove near the camp. Narrow dirt lanes separated the shelters that shared walls, cloth, or sometimes boards. Occasionally, he got a whiff of food cooking.

Wraith drove into the camp and stopped their vehicle in front of a tent with a faded logo and Children’s Hope International printed on the side. From a larger tent to the right, a man strode out directly to them. “Welcome. I’m Miller Dupre, the camp coordinator. We’ve been expecting you. I was relieved when they told us you were coming almost three weeks ago.” He stuck out his hand as Ronan got out of the Jeep.

“Ronan Alexander,” he introduced himself, purposely using the last name that couldn’t lead anyone to the Xavier family or any of their secrets. Major NDAs and background checks would need to be completed before he’d ever consider introducing himself as an Xavier.

“Guardian Security, right? What is that exactly?” Miller asked.

“A federally recognized law enforcement organization stateside. Our missions deal with everything from personal security to privately funded military operations in hostile areas—like this.” Ronan’s attention shifted to the ragtag militia they’d brought with them. They’d stopped outside the camp and didn’t enter. Jug had the M-240 still pointed at them, and he hadn’t stopped observing the convoy.

“The militia’s camp is on the far side,” Miller said. “We don’t let them inside. Our population is mostly unaccompanied children and women. We don’t want any problems.”

“Problems?” Stryker asked as he got out of the Jeep.

Miller nodded. “Some feel that unattended women, girls, and boys are fair game.”

“For what?” Wolf asked.

Miller put his hands on his hips. “Use your imagination. They do.”

“I’ll handle it,” Wraith said and whistled at Jug.

“I got you, man,” Jug said as Wraith walked to the truck where Bilal was riding. The conversation lasted about ten seconds before Wraith turned and strode back. The vehicles powered up and headed to where Dupre said the militia encampment was headed.

“That was the quickest I’ve ever seen a contingent of that size move,” Miller said. “Maybe they’ll be better than the ones we have now.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Ronan said. “We have our equipment and some things for the camp. Not much due to the lack of space in the trailer, but we brought fuel for your generators, batteries, cases of canned food, medicines, and a few other things.”

“God, that’s amazing,” Miller said. “We need everything you can give us. We’re lucky here; we have a well with good water, but water doesn’t keep people alive, and supplies are sporadic. We’ve lost so many vehicles and people that getting anything out or in has been dangerous, and we’re running on fumes.”

“Do you have a place we can set up?”

“Right over there would work. Do you need help unloading the trailer? We could use any medical supplies you have right now, and the fuel wouldn’t be refused either.” Miller rubbed his hands together. “You guys are better than old Santa himself right now.”

Ronan didn’t doubt it. “Give us an hour to unload and set up, and we’ll pack the supplies wherever they need to go. I want to ensure it doesn’t get intercepted by anyone. ”

Miller glanced up at him, and he frowned. “There isn’t too much worry about that inside the camp.”

Jug jumped down from his position behind the machine gun. “Sir, it’s our job to ensure there’s zero worry inside this camp.”

Miller rubbed the top of his bald head. “Not sure how to digest that. It’s been so damn long since we’ve had any help.”

Seeing the man tear up a bit, Ronan put his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “We’re not the complete solution, but we’re going to make damn sure your problems don’t get any bigger.”

Miller sniffed a bit and nodded. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about. We get it,” Jug said. “Wraith, you want me to drive this over and start the setup while you and Ronan do the recon with Buchanan?”

Wraith tossed him the keys without comment, and Stryker and Wolf got back into the Jeep and drove to the spot Miller had indicated. Wolf walked a bit away and stood guard as Jug and Stryker started to set up camp. Ronan and Wraith would meet with this Buchanan fellow and then help.

“Is Buchanan available?” Ronan asked Miller.

Miller turned to his right and looked back into the camp. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Let me … Oh, here she comes.”

She? Ronan lifted his eyes to look in the direction Miller now faced. Walking down the tight path was a woman wearing form-fitting, faded blue jeans, work boots, a blue t-shirt, and a green vest with yellow letters spelling “CHI” down the right side. Her reddish-blonde hair was pulled back, but a thick braid trailed over her shoulder. She wore no makeup and needed none. The sun had kissed her skin, and there was a spray of freckles on her cheeks and over her nose. She was tall, slender, and almost looked fragile; that was, until he saw her eyes. The blue of those eyes had seen too much. He’d seen that expression on warriors, soldiers, and people who had survived traumatic events. Still, he swallowed hard. She was beautiful and so damn unexpected in the bowels of a war-torn hell.

She stopped in front of them and measured both him and Wraith with a hard look. “You’re the Guardian team? I’m Fleur Buchanan, anti-trafficking officer for Children’s Hope International.”

“We are. I’m Ronan Alexander. This is Wraith. Over there is Jug, Wolf, and Stryker.”

The woman glanced at the men setting up camp as he pointed to them. She returned her gaze to him and cocked her head before asking, “They don’t have real names?”

Ronan chuckled. “They do, but we don’t use them.”

“Yet you introduced yourself. What’s your handle?”

“Skipper,” Wraith provided as he shot his friend a quick look. The asshat chose now to talk? He needed to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with the troublemaker.

“Because you’re the boss?” Her questions were rapid and direct. He liked that.

“Yes.” He crossed his arms. He could flow with direct. Niceties were something he pulled out in the States when he had to. His time in Guardian had been spent with warriors as direct as she was. “I was told you’d walk us through the process of convoy coordination.”

“I will. When do you want to go over it?” She talked to him as she watched his team start to unload the trailer they’d hauled across the country. The containers they unloaded were easy to identify. “Oh my God! Is that fuel?” A smile flashed, and her eyes lit up.

“Fuel, medicine, and food,” Miller said.

Ronan grunted when the woman threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you!” Her slight body was molded to his, and he discovered she was stronger than she looked as she squeezed him tightly.

Not sure what to do, he patted her back gently. The hug lasted a bit longer than it should, and he looked over at Wraith, who had the smarts to turn away as he smiled, his shoulders twitching as he laughed silently. The fucker .

Fleur pulled back and laughed. “Christmas in August! Thank you so much. I can get the staff to help unload.”

“They want to do it,” Miller said. “I already offered.”

She looked questioningly at him. “We could really use the supplies, as in now.”

He shrugged. “We have things that are dangerous in that trailer.”

Fleur frowned. “Dangerous? What do you mean?”

“Ammo.” And some special toys his twin brother Deacon had sent along, but no one needed to know about those things.

“Oh.” Fleur deflated. “You’ll have to forgive us. We’ve been rationing fuel forever, and we’re almost out. The food situation is one step above the fuel situation, but not by much. ”

“We heard.” Ronan shrugged his weapon sling back into its proper position, which had jockeyed out of place when she’d hugged him. Not that he minded the hug. It had been one hell of a long time since he’d held a woman against him. And she was all woman. To say he hadn’t noticed when she’d hugged him would be the lie of the year, if not the decade. She was just the right height, and she had a banging, hot body, too. He liked that she was taller. He’d grown up around tall women. His aunts, well, honorary aunts Jade, Jasmine, Tori, Keelee, and even Jewell, were all tall. And while not as tall, his mom was a woman no one would mess with. He’d been raised to respect women and what they were capable of doing. His sisters were epic examples of success on an international level.

“Skipper?” Dude’s voice rang through the comm device lodged in his ear.

Ronan tipped his head. “Go ahead, Dude.”

Fleur jumped a bit, and she looked around. “Who?—”

Ronan lifted his hand and listened. “Two vehicles have left the militia encampment and are heading north.” The satellite must be over them again. Dude always had their six.

“Trail them as long as you can. ”

“You know it,” Dude said. “How bad is the camp? I can only see from outer space.”

Jug answered so Miller and Fleur couldn’t hear him. “Think of any refugee camp you’ve seen and multiply it by a thousand. The food supplies we brought will last only a day or so.”

“I could try to get supplies airdropped in.”

“In a sovereign country’s airspace?” Ronan asked as he studied his boot. “Good luck.”

“Let me try. I know a guy who knows a guy, or at least he did.” Dude’s voice was tinged with the I’m not going to fail attitude he usually retained for the hardest challenges they faced.

“Let him, Skipper,” Wraith said quietly beside him. He gave the slightest nod toward the camp.

Ronan glanced back at the sea of shelters. Yeah, he got it. Any chance was better than no help. Ronan lifted his head and nodded. “Concur. You have my go-ahead; use my name if anyone gives you a hard time.”

“I always do, Skipper,” Dude said before leaving the channel.

Ronan looked at their hosts. “Sorry, we were talking with our communications specialist.”

“How?” Fleur put her hands on her hips. “ESP? ”

Miller barked a laugh. “That would be something, but yeah, how were you talking to him?”

Ronan smiled. “Through our communication system.”

Fleur’s eyes raked over him … slowly. She finally lifted her eyes to his. “I don’t see a phone or radio.”

Ronan smiled at her. He wasn’t going to discuss their comm systems. “Then our equipment manager has done his job well. If you’d give us an hour or so, we’ll have the supplies sorted, and you can show us where to deliver them.”

Fleur nodded. “I can do that. Do you need anything from us?”

“No, we’re self-sufficient at the moment. Thank you.” Ronan turned on his heel, and Wraith fell into step beside him.

After walking about a hundred feet, Wraith elbowed him and said, “Pretty.”

He looked at his friend and narrowed his eyes. “And?”

Wraith chuckled. “Seems to like you.”

“You’re insane.” Ronan dismissed the idea.

“Nope,” Wraith said. “Been tested.”

Jug laughed. “We’ve all been tested. Except Wolf.”

“If she’s pretty and into you, you should go for it, Skipper,” Wolf chimed in. “And I’ve been tested. Don’t be a fucker, Jug. I’m almost normal.”

“That’s debatable,” Stryker taunted.

Jug snorted out a laugh. “I haven’t been a fucker in a long, long time, asshole. For me, female company is required for that activity.”

Stryker laughed. “Skipper, if you don’t want her, I’d be happy to step up.”

“No one is stepping up or going after anyone.” Ronan was ending the stupid conversation. “Remember where you are and what these kids and women have been through.”

The comms fell silent immediately. “Sorry, Skipper. That was insensitive of us.” That was Jug—the softest heart under the hardest shell.

“Noted, and apology accepted. Let’s keep focused, guys,” Ronan said. The fact that he didn’t want his team sniffing around the woman wasn’t lost on him. That was a danger sign flashing neon bright on a pitch-dark night. He needed to forget the feel of her softness against him and screw his head on straight. The middle of an IDP camp was not the time or place to be attracted to anyone.

Wraith looked at him and lifted an eyebrow as if calling him on his thoughts. Thankfully, they’d reached the trailer, and there was no time for Wraith to push his luck further. It was time to set up camp and unload.