Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (52 page)

The medic considered them. Then shook his head. “Not the right time. Later.”

“How about now?” Sal said, arms folded. “If you’re distracted—”

“Not distracted.” Harrier scratched the back of his head. “Married.”

Stunned silence gaped.

“Judge was going to rule against me until Sienna offered to marry me. Only way I could keep the kids.”

“Idiot,” Sal said.

“Do you love her?”

Harrier snorted. “Yeah…actually, I do. Just didn’t realize it.”

With a curt nod, Dean studied him. “You have more reason to fight and live now. Is your head here with us?”

“One hundred percent, sir.”

“Okay, then what do you think about his chance of survival up there?”

“If he’s been in the elements the whole time…” Harrier shook his head. “Chances are slim to none.”

“See?” Sal said.

“But if he managed to find shelter—”

“Where?”

“—then he has a chance.” Harrier didn’t flinch at the aggravation shot his way by Sal.

“If he’s in that mountain, we won’t find a body to bury.”

“What is this?” Dean stared down the newly minted WO1. He shouldered his urge to yell and lowered his voice. “You’ve had this
Titanic
-sized chip on your shoulder since Mazar-e. What’s going on?”

Sal’s dark eyes flashed. “Nothing.” He held his ground, but Dean could see the roiling anger and frustration.

“Say it. Say what’s on your mind.”

A twitch in the guy’s cheek warned him of the breaking dam. “You don’t want me to do that.”

Dean held out his arms as they stood in the room. The others were headed back from chow. “We’re alone. We’ve been friends a long time and been to hell and back in this war. I think I deserve some respect and honesty. This thing, whatever it is…it’s getting in the way.”

“Yeah, well, so’s taking orders from a compromised team commander.”

“Comp—” Dean swallowed the accusation. “After all this time, you’re still trying to say
I’m
compromised?”

“You’re dating the cousin of a very high-value target. She’s roommates with Haidary’s sister, and there have been times you’ve let her into the Command building.”

“Hey.” Dean held up a hand. “Are you now accusing my girlfriend of—?”

“Then you let Burnett walk Cassie into this thing, and if we weren’t screwed before that, we are now.” Falcon snapped out his hands in frustration. “She can’t be trusted. She doesn’t get what happens out here, and she will compromise—”

“Forget Walker!” Dean rested his hand on his belt. “You’ve been all bull-in-a-china-shop for the last ten months.” He squinted an eye, thinking. “But whatever you have against Walker, Burnett brought her into this. And I won’t believe for a minute that he’s trying to get us killed.”

“Me either, but her—trust her and you’ll end up in a ditch dead.”

“Captain!” Eagle shoved into the room, holding the door as the rest of the team flooded in. Titanis entered, ushering Hastings and none other than Cassie Walker into the fray.

Dean and Sal shared a glance.

“Um,” Hastings said as she cast a frown between the two of them then to Lieutenant Walker, who tucked her chin but said nothing.

“They have something you mates are going to want to see,” Titanis said as he took a seat.

“Please.” Hastings motioned toward the door. “Come in.”

Dean turned toward the door, his heart kick-starting at the man who entered. Tall, lanky, wearing a turban and a truckload of confidence and power. Dean straightened from the maps and discussion. Met the man’s gaze. “Takkar.”

With a slight incline of his head, Sajjan Takkar moved into the room. This man had his hands in so many international waters, Dean shouldn’t be surprised at whatever he’d found. If anyone could tie together some threads of this nightmare, it would be this notorious spy. All the same, Dean didn’t trust him. While he hadn’t dealt a bad hand to the U.S. military, his loyalty couldn’t be ascertained. But there was more trust than distrust. Dean had enough dealings with the man to surrender any suspicions.

Hastings walked around the table and stood beside Titanis, who seemed to straighten. “May I?” she asked the Aussie.

Titanis nodded, and if Dean didn’t know the burly guy better, he’d say he grinned.

“About fifteen minutes ago, one of our techs searching for proof of life saw this.” Hastings powered up a video player.

“Harbin Z-19,” Eagle said as soon as the chopper came into view. “That’s not ours.”

“Chinese,” Harrier put in. “Stealth reconnaissance/attack chopper.”

Two individuals got out and trekked into a building covered in snow.

“They’re in there for about ten minutes before”—Hastings fast-forwarded the footage—“this happens.”

Suddenly, the chopper lifted and veered off. A minute later, someone stumbled out of the shanty, made it to the chopper just as the bird belched a rocket. The screen went bright white.

What was that about?

“What happened?” Sal asked. “They just leave their team?”

“No,” Hastings said. “Look. Zoom in on the lower section of the screen.” She spoke to Walker, who turned Falcon’s military-grade laptop around then started tapping on the keys.

There, barely discernible against the black-and-white image, they made out a figure.

“Someone came out of the back of this structure and fired on the chopper.”

As soon as the chopper lifted away, Dean saw movement. “Giving himself time to get to the trees.” Firepower. Tactical. But he wasn’t sprinting. Or fast. “It’s Hawk.”

“He’s moving slow,” Sal commented.

“Snowdrifts could be several feet deep,” Titanis suggested.

“More likely, Hawk’s injured. Thirty hours in the mountain. At least one firefight…” Sal motioned to the screen that was now blank. “He’s fighting for his life.”

“And the obvious question,” Eagle said, coming to his feet. “Where are the women and girls?”

A weight thumped against Dean’s courage, the daunting realization that things were as bad as he had imagined.

“He’d never leave them willingly,” Eagle said. “He and the younger woman—Double Z’s cousin—seemed to have some chemistry. I just can’t see him walking away from them.”

“Unless they’re dead,” Sal said.

Realistic but haunting. “Okay, let’s get up on that mountain.” Dean turned to Hastings. “We’re going to need a team and a Black Hawk.”

“Riordan’s team is on the tarmac waiting,” Hastings said. “I’ve already communicated with Burnett.”

“I think I have some
guests
who can help you out,” Takkar said as he nodded to the door.

In walked none other than Candyman, his wife, and that ugly hound of hers, Beowulf.

“Tony!” After a shoulder-pat-hug, Dean stepped back. “How’s life?”

“Great. Heard I’m just in time to save the day again,” Tony said with his incessant grin.

Timbrel folded her arms across her chest, as tough and barricaded as ever. “Beowulf can track, if you need him.”

It was one thing to be brothers for life as a Special Forces operator. It was another to be out of the field for a year and come back. “How’s the leg?”

Tapping the titanium flag-painted prosthesis beneath his pant leg, Tony grinned. “As Iron Man’s cousin, we’re better than ever. Where we headed?”

“Hastings, where was that incident?”

“Twenty klicks south of Tera Pass.”

Eagle shifted. “That’s…that’s got to be forty from the car accident.” Blue eyes wide, he snorted. “I can’t believe he made that much ground in that storm. It was a beast!”

“Yeah, well, that’s Hawk for you.”

“Especially if someone was shooting at him,” Sal added.

“Let’s move! Hawk needs us.”

T
he world tilted and spun.

Stumbling, Brian jerked his head up. Dropped to his knees beside a tree. He dug his gloved fingers into the dirt. Lifted a handful and packed his shoulder wound. Gritting his teeth as he did, he reminded himself that Fekiria sacrificed her own life so he could do this. So he could get word to the others. So he could stop the attack.

And he’d be hanged if he would stop because of a little blood.

He pushed up but his knees buckled. Brian reached for a tree. Missed. Tumbled into the soft branches of a pine. Fell through them. Hit the ground.
Oof!
A fresh wave of jagged pain tore through his shoulder and spine. Brian growled through the agony, twisting to protect his shoulder, which only made the laptop strapped to his chest poke into his ribs.

He lay there, sprinklings of pine needles fluttering to his face. Lifted the sat phone he’d taken from the Chinese man he’d killed. Checked the bars. No signal.

He stuffed it back in his pocket, his mind on the fireball that had erupted as he made his dash over hill and dale. Had the woman he’d knocked out made it to the chopper before they torched the shanty?

And why hadn’t she just shot him?

It just couldn’t get worse, could it? Bleeding out on a mountain. Knowing the woman he tried to protect had left him and was probably dead. What was the point?
God, I got nothing. I’m done
.

Granddad had always said that when a bad situation presented itself, a person shouldn’t fight it. They should learn from it, figure out what God wanted to change. Things couldn’t get worse at the moment, and still, Brian found himself looking for the lesson. But everything felt trite. Fake. No, he wanted something real. Something true. He wanted a life…like Granddad’s. God, a wife, peace of mind…

Crunch
.

Brian froze. He darted his gaze around, not moving a muscle. Through the thick branches, he thought he saw a blur of black. He stared, waiting. Expecting.

But nothing came.

Must be going crazy
.

Check that
. He’d raced up a mountain, skinned a snow leopard, and played tag with an attack chopper…all for a woman. Yeah, beyond crazy. He was certifiable.

Somewhere nearby came chatter. He listened more carefully, steadying his own breathing against the howling wind, and heard the voices. Chinese.

Probably tracking the phone
.

Brian shifted. This time the blur of black coalesced. Two men stood less than two yards from his position. Crap. Slowly, stealthily, he drew his legs under the tree.

Lesson of this mission—never think it can’t get worse
.

His mind drifted to the card in his chest pocket. The one with the prayer of protection. He remembered some of the words, but the more he thought of them, the more Fekiria’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. Tough. Smart. Beautiful. And didn’t take junk from no one. Even him.

Which meant…she might still be alive.

Which meant,
he
needed to stay alive to find her.

Brian eased the silenced weapon from the holster. Aimed it at the man closing in on his position.
Steady…

The man crunched closer.

What were the chances these two would miss him? Not see him and keep moving?

Right. Because they’ve just managed to find him each time out of profound luck that would what, suddenly fail?

Well, they say nothing is impossible with God…right, God?

A miracle would be
profoundly
awesome right now, what with the way his arm trembled and his leg throbbed with pain that doused him in sweat and blood. Distant shouts drew the man around.

No way
. Brian strained, without moving his body, to see what was happening. The target closest to him started away.

Seriously? That worked? God worked the impossible?
Yes and no. The man who backtracked was responding to voices. Voices of other targets. But at least for now, Brian only had one man to contend with.

The phone in Brian’s pocket chirruped.

He froze. Snapped his gaze to the man.

Eyes stared back.

Son of a…
With the slightest of moves, Brian lifted the silenced weapon. As the man raised his, Brian aimed. Fired once. Twice.

The man tumbled forward. Brian scrambled for the phone. Turned off the volume.

Hauling himself up took everything Brian had left. He pulled himself backward, dragging his weight in the snow to get free of the low-hanging limbs. On a knee, he double-checked the route the other man had taken. Though he’d returned, he was still alone and hadn’t noticed his fallen comrade. It wouldn’t stay that way forever. Meaning Brian had a minute or two at most.

Move, idiot!

He trudged on a parallel path with the spine of the nearest peak. The graze in his leg was numb. In fact, his feet were numb again. He pushed the realization from his mind. No more obstacles. No more excuses. Priority one was to get out of here. Notify the guys. Stop Osiris.

Right. Osiris.

Question remained—was Osiris a who or a what? A man or a plan? Either way, if Brian didn’t keep putting one painful foot in front of the other, Raptor was dead. Weapon down and to the side, he traversed the terrain. Tricky because the snow concealed rocky traps that could sprain or snap his ankle.

He lifted the phone and saw it had a signal. “Yes.” He pressed the number for the captain. Lifted it to his ear.