“I find the zipped shut sites and open them up.”
“You sure do.” Remi quirked up an eyebrow. “Maybe you should consider coming to work for us. Between you and me, The Four X’s would be unstoppable.” He held up one hand to stop her from answering immediately. “Don’t answer now. Think about it. Talk to Gunnar, then decide.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about the offer. Her life was in Germany. She had a home there. Clients… friends.
No, you don’t.
Most of your clients are online. You wouldn’t even know them if they passed you on the streets.
Not true…
Name one.
Shut up.
She was so freaking tempted. Living here and working with the systems Remi had would be freaking awesome. There was only one wrinkle in the plan… she didn’t know how Gunnar would feel about it. Plus, the offer had come from Remi and not the brother she wanted it to come from—Gunnar.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
With how muchthey used this C-130 transport plane, Gunnar was regretting not coughing up the cash to make the seats more comfortable. He stretched his leg out in front of him, blocked the view from the others with his ruck, and rubbed the sore spot on his thigh. If they saw him pay any attention to it, Tyrone, the medic bastard, would ground him for sure.
I didn’t come all this way just to have my ass sitting in a fucking tent while the boys get to have all the fun.
His thoughts went to the woman he’d left behind in Italy. Would she still be there waiting when he got back? He hoped so. If she wasn’t, he decided it wasn’t too much to chase her home to Germany. It took more effort than he would like to shove Jorja to the back of his mind. His focus needed to be on his guys, the mission, and getting the hostages back safely. Going into a country where the US had no allies sucked at the best of times. The danger escalated when that country was one they had withdrawn their forces from not too long ago; one filled with tangos who would be more than happy to have a US military contractor’s head on a spike.
Not on my watch. We all come home, period.
“Altitude.”
The pilot’s voice was distorted, but Gunnar and all the guys were more than used to listening to orders through comms units. They had now reached an altitude of just over thirty thousand feet at the location they had decided on for their high-altitude, high-opening jump. He would have much preferred to have a ground insertion as it was kind of soon to test if his leg was up to an air infiltration, but time was of the essence here. If the hostages were moved before they managed to reach their location on trucks, it would delay them even more than the storm sweeping across Sicily had when they were leaving Sigonella.
When the plane leveled out, the bouncing and shaking became slightly more predictable in tempo. It was familiar, and he knew the closer they got to go time, the more all of his guys’ nerves would settle. Only a fool wasn’t nervous at the kickoff of a mission. A fool or an idiot. He tried his best not to hire either.
Not a single one in the bunch loved to jump out of a perfectly good plane, but all of them would do it. He nodded to Talon who sat next to him with Zombie, fully kitted out in his K9 battle rattle, and got to his feet. It was almost time.
He was barely able to move easily with the weight of the parachute, rucksack, equipment harness, and enough weapons for three operators. But he stood and hooked the parachute's static line to the overhead steel cable, and double-checked his wrist computer and GPS were functional. They would need to use the compass and possibly the GPS on the wrist computers for guidance while flying for fifteen or more miles.
Talon, as head of Field Ops, and Marco as their Reconnaissance Specialist, had worked out waypoints and terrain features to navigate to their landing zone, and they’d allsigned off on them. If they were wrong, then Gunnar would boot their asses once they were home. Zombie would just have to deal with his favorite human having a come to Jesus meeting with the big boss. He kept an eye on the light at the side of the door. When it flicked to red, Gunnar double-checked his static line was hooked to the overhead one and braced for the whoosh and the deafening roar as the doors opened. Wind screamed into the plane, pushing against him.
Gunnar made sure his guys were double-checking their oxygen masks before doing the same to his. The jump master gave the fuselage floor a powerful stamp with his left foot, threw his hands and arms into the air with his palms facing the men, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Get ready!” The plane bounced and jumped all over the place; never a good thing if your stomach was barely surviving on a diet of coffee alone. He watched the hand signals from the jump master. When the jump master's arms went up and he crooked his fingers, Gunnar glanced up to double-check his hook was connected to the wire. As the first man out, he felt Talon’s tug on his wire, and knew Colt was doing the same to Talon. Everyone checked their own static wire and then the wire of the man in front of them. He went through his equipment check and made sure his ruck was attached to his upwind leg.
Because they had to travel quite a distance under their parachutes, the equipment was divided to make sure all their weights were as evenly matched as possible. Talon, who carried Zombie, had almost no equipment, and Tyrone as the lightest and shortest of the bunch had the most. The energy and adrenaline in the plane smacked and crackled around them when the jump master called, “Stand in the door.”
Nerves forgotten, Gunnar threw his static line at the man and braced himself ready to jump. The jump master smacked him on the ass and yelled, “Go, go, go!” Gunnar ran for thegaping black hole and jumped out into the black sky with a hop and pop of his chute, a potentially risky maneuver because jumpers were exposed to altitude and the enemy for a more extended period. He braced himself for the opening shock. He’d feel it for a few days, but with years of jumps under his belt, he knew his body was more than capable of dealing with it. Now he just had to make it to the ground without fucking up his leg again.
Gunnar grabbed the handles of his control lines and pulled them level with his helmet. He hated the jumping into a black hole bit, but once he was out here where it almost seemed like he could touch the stars, he loved it. He let the parachute fly so he could check the direction of the wind, then checked the GPS compass on his wrist before using the control lines to send him the right way.
When his target zone appeared in the distance, Gunnar bent his knees and flicked the quick release tabs so his ruck slid to the end of the lowering line. He turned his chute into the wind and prepared to land. He shook himself slightly to ensure his weapon wasn’t under his armpit. The last thing he needed to add to his list of scrapes was a dislocated shoulder. Tyrone would mutter and bitch the whole way to where they thought the hostages were being held. As he came in to land, he bent his legs slightly with his knees and feet together and his hands level with the top of his helmet. “Motherfucker.” The jolt on touchdown hurt more than he hoped it would, but he pushed himself through it and shucked out of his chute as the rest of his team started to land around him.
He folded the chute as best he could and stuffed it into his kit, securing the straps to make sure it stayed put. He pressed his comms unit into life. “Grizzly to All Stations, comms check.”
“Lego copies," Talon responded immediately. Gunnar knew within moments that his youngest brother and Zombiewould approach on his left. The sound of the dog panting made him smirk. Yup, there they were. He still kept his weapon trained in that direction until he could fully make out Zombie’s form. If there was anyone aside from Talon coming in, the dog would have lost his shit by now. He nodded at Talon when his brother appeared out of the darkness, acknowledgment that all was well.
“Midas, copy.” There was Marco; he would sweep out on their right flank, ensuring their perimeter was clear until they moved out.
“Zorro, copy.” Tyrone would skirt around to the left and secure that side. He heard a slight inhale of breath, and then Tyrone’s comms clicked off. Gunnar knew their medic had probably decided now was not a good time to ask for a status update on his leg.
Smart asshole. Maybe he does have brain cells after all.
