SEALed at Midnight (2 page)

The kill, should it go down that way, would need to be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. DNA samples would be retrieved. Photographs taken. Reports filed.

Though he had to think shooting was too good for the masked coward who’d forced five families to see their sons on their knees, hands bound, beheaded on video. All while the friends and families of the other hostages watched and waited, wondering if and when their loved one would be next.

They could take Jihadi John dead or alive. Thom didn’t care either way. Just as he didn’t care if it was him or one of his teammates who pulled the trigger or put on the zip cuffs. It didn’t matter who or how, as long as they got the bastard who’d become the poster child for the Islamic State terrorist’s militant recruitment.

Brody rolled over on the bedroll he’d carried with him. Thom shook his head at the man. Brody was a champion sleeper. Anytime. Anywhere.

Over the years, Thom had watched Brody fall asleep sitting up and also lying across a row of folding chairs. He could sleep in the meeting room or in a Black Hawk. In an airport or in the bed of a moving truck. It didn’t matter.

Thom glanced Brody’s way, jealous of the peace his friend found in sleep. Peace Thom hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

In reality, it was close to two years now since his wife had handed him those divorce papers completely out of the blue. It was a parting shot with no warning on the eve of his return from a six-month deployment.

The memory had the pulse pounding in his head.

He needed to get over it. Rid himself of this anger that ate at him day and night, and doubly on payday.

His concentration was much better focused on his job. She’d gotten his kids, his house, and his money—even his damn dog—but his career was the one thing she couldn’t touch unless he let her by allowing his bitterness to affect his performance.

The rest of the twelve-man unit assembled specifically for this mission might be sleeping, but at least Thom wasn’t the only one awake in the bird. The crew—the pilot, co-pilot, crew chief and gunner—had to be awake and alert. That was some consolation, at least.

He ran over the plan again in his head, just as they’d gone over it as a group at least a dozen times during prep.

As he mentally reviewed the steps they’d rehearsed, he flexed his stiff fingers. Anticipation of the mission had him not realizing how cold it was in the bird until his fingers went numb, even inside his gloves.

Winter in Iraq sucked. Well, anytime in Iraq sucked but the frigid weather in November presented extra challenges. Even with the hatches closed, the cold permeated the frame. There was a heating system onboard, but it was like blowing into a hurricane. Useless.

One more reason Thom was jealous of those sleeping—they were blissfully ignorant of the cold.

He felt the bird dip but this time it didn’t rise again. He moved his glove out of the way and glanced at the watch on his wrist.

They must be nearing their destination—a compound on the outskirts of the city of Mosul.

The city had become an Islamic State stronghold in June. The citizens lived in fear under the harsh rule and intolerance of the Jihadists. They survived without the basic necessities of electricity and water.

Much as with the Bin Laden raid, the team was inserting into a residential area under cover of darkness. They’d use stealth for as long as possible, and speed after that.

They’d pinpointed the building where Jihadi John was supposed to be. They could see it, as well as what surrounded it, thanks to satellite photos, but they didn’t know much more.

The interior layout was still a mystery, as was where exactly John might be within the building and who was with him.

CIA observers had tracked any comings and goings for as long as they dared delay the mission, but the exact number inside was still unknown.

Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. All those months of searching, watching, planning, and now it was almost show time.

Stretching out one leg, Thom nudged Brody with one booted foot. Brody popped upright, awake and alert, as if he hadn’t just been sound asleep. Probably snoring too, though Thom wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the noise if he had been.

Brody’s only visible concession to the fact he’d just been woken from a sound sleep was when he rubbed one hand over his eyes before he glanced at his own watch.

They were close to their destination. Thom could feel it. The level of contained energy in the Black Hawk heightened as the guys awoke, one by one, and began to shift inside the bird.

The adrenaline and anticipation for the mission would be more than enough to clear any drowsiness from the men. If it didn’t, when they opened the hatch the bracing cold would slap them all in the face. That would clear all their heads.

Not long now and they’d know if the intel was correct. If they’d made the biggest capture since Bin Laden. Damned if that thought didn’t have Thom sitting forward, waiting for the crewman to pop that hatch.

Thom was nearest to the door. Last in the bird meant he’d be first out, taking point, just how he liked it. Brody would be directly behind him, as they’d rehearsed.

He wouldn’t want anyone else at his six. Rocky and Boomer were good operatives, but even after the four months since they'd joined the team, Thom was still getting used to them. And the new guy was so new Thom mostly called him
the new guy
.

Every man on this mission was highly trained and experienced, but Brody was more than a teammate.

There was something to be said for history and familiarity. For knowing each other’s thoughts and next move without a word being spoken.

Brody was a friend and the only remaining member of Thom’s original team now that Jon and Zane had left the military to open their own company, and Grant had become an instructor.

They must have been nearing the landing zone. Thom felt the pilot bringing the bird down, closer to the ground where he’d set down and the team would exit.
 

His anticipation grew as he felt the drop in altitude. The vibration of the fuselage was matched by the vibration inside him as the crewman moved toward the hatch to open it.

Thom inched closer, more than ready to get this mission going. He twisted to glance at Brody behind him, giving him a nod. Brody mirrored the gesture and dipped his head in return.

Ready to move when the time came, Thom turned back just as a deafening blast rocked the bird.

Things seemed to move in slow motion as the hatch blew inward, twisting and flipping through the air. Reflex had Thom throwing his hands up in front of his face.

His last thought—that they must have taken a hit—was cut short by a sickening thud, a crack that sounded like bones snapping, and then blinding pain before everything went black.

CHAPTER 2

Virginia Starr picked up her cell phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. The only thing looking at the phone did was confirm to her that she had no missed calls or texts. That her date, Brad, was even later picking her up than he’d been the last time she’d glanced at the cell.

With a sigh, she headed back to the bathroom to check her makeup. As long as she had the extra time, she might as well make good use of it.

Given she’d spent what felt like hours choosing the perfect outfit—something that was sexy but also practical for an icy November night in Stamford, Connecticut—she’d hate for the look to be ruined by lipstick on her teeth or mascara smudged beneath her eyes.

She headed down the hallway of her apartment and had just reached the bathroom doorway when the cell phone she’d left on the table in the living room buzzed.

Of course. That was how her luck was running lately. She pivoted on one high-heeled boot and ran for the living room. When she reached the phone she saw it hadn’t been worth running for. It was only a text message, but it was from Mr. Tardy himself.

Ginny. So sorry. Can’t make tonight. Rain check?

Getting stood up by text message?

Brad really thought he could get away with that?

“Oh no. So not gonna happen.” She said it aloud even if there was no one to hear her.

After hitting the button to call him back, she clenched her teeth as she listened to the ringing in her ear.

Brad answered, “Ginny, hey.”
 

“Hi. So what’s going on?”

“I guess you got my text. I’m gonna have to get a rain check on tonight. I’m in the ER.”

The emergency room? That was one thing she hadn’t expected to hear. She’d been about to yell at him. Good thing she’d asked him what was up first.

“Oh my God. Are you all right?”
 

“Oh, yeah. It’s not me. It’s my friend. He got in an accident.”

“A car accident?”

It was bitter cold tonight. If the roads were treacherous enough to put his friend in the hospital maybe it was best she wasn’t going out.

“No. It was at the gym. We were playing basketball and he twisted his ankle pretty bad. Since I was playing with him, I figured I should drive him to get it looked at. You know?”

The gym? Ginny’s blood pressure rose a good ten points at that revelation. “Of course.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

All she understood was that Brad didn’t get sarcasm.

She might have been more sympathetic if her elusive suitor hadn’t already backed out at the last second on the past three dates they’d planned. In that case, she might have believed he really was just a good guy helping out an injured friend.

Right now she was running a bit short on belief.

“So I’ll text you and we’ll set up something for next week. Okay?”

Ginny drew in a breath to calm herself. “Sure. You do that.”

And when he did, she’d be busy—or at least say she was.

After being woefully single for the past two plus years, she wasn’t in the position to be overly picky regarding a man she had yet to actually go out on a date with, but Brad had just used his last strike.

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon.” Apparently, judging by the cheer in Brad’s voice, he didn’t realize Ginny was done with him and his shenanigans.

“All right. Have a good night. Hope your friend feels better.”

“Thanks.”

Scowling that he hadn’t even noticed she was pissed, Ginny hit to disconnect the call before she decided to give him a piece of her mind.

Instead, she’d have to be satisfied with changing into flannel PJs and breaking into a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream. The mere presence of it inside the freezer haunted her.

What else could a girl do in this situation? If she gained weight from tonight’s indulgence, she could always blame it on Brad.

The phone in her hand vibrated before she had a chance to put in down.

She knew that if it was Brad calling back for whatever reason, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back. That in mind, she drew in a breath and was about to lay into him when she saw her best friend’s name appear on the display.

Ginny hit the button to answer. “Hey.”

“Hi! Are you on your date?” Molly sounded much too upbeat for Ginny’s current mood.

She scowled. The only thing worse than being stood up was having to admit to being stood up out loud. “No.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like half an hour ago? I figured you were already with him. I was calling to give you an out in case he was horrible.”

“Oh, he’s horrible all right. He stood me up. Again. Third time in a row.”

“Wow. What was the excuse this time?”

“His friend is in the emergency room.” Ginny imbued that one statement with every bit of ire she felt.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a pretty good excuse to me.” The censure was clear in Molly’s tone.

Ginny let out a snort. “I would agree with you except for the fact the injury happened at the gym while Brad was playing basketball instead of getting ready for our date. Besides, the last two times he backed out was the same kind of bullshit excuse.”

A stomach bug that hit suddenly. An assignment that had him working late. All news delivered right at the last minute. All excuses she couldn’t prove or disprove.