“Radar copies.” Colt’s confirmation came about two seconds before he too came to stand next to him and Talon.
Gunnar waited a couple of heartbeats before asking, “Grizzly, All Stations, anyone got eyes on Nemo?”
“Grizzly, Midas, I got him,” Marco replied. “He’s got a bush problem, but I’m untangling him now.”
Snickers and quiet laughter filtered through his earpiece. This right here was one of the reasons he’d hired these men. They not only worked well with him and his brothers, but they gave each other shit like they were family.
“Fuck you, Midas,” Levi grumbled. “Cut the damn strap. I can’t reach it.”
“And here I thought Zorro was shortass,” Talon whispered.
“Lego, you’re still an asshole and should be at home playing in the toy box.” Clearly Tyrone heard Talon’s teasing. No doubt there would be some kind of prank he had to deal with when they got home. But for now, headed into whatwould no doubt be a fight, Gunnar was relieved to have each and every one of these men and this dog on his six.
“All Stations, Zipper.” Remi’s voice from their TOC, Tactical Command Center, at home in Italy called all of their attention. “Get moving. You still have a lot of klicks to cross before you are at Checkpoint Bravo.”
“Yes, Sir.” It might have sounded weird for him to give his younger brother the title, but over the years they had found keeping dialogue as similar to what they’d used when they were military meant less fuck-ups all round. He didn’t like fuck-ups. None of them did.
“Coordinates are coming in three, two, one,” Remi said, then he rattled off the numbers. “All have been sent to your wrist devices.”
Gunnar softly repeated the numbers, and everyone double-checked the location on their devices. It sucked not having Remi in the field with a drone which could give them more hands-on intel, but they’d take what they could get. Remi was grounded until either something changed with his PTSD or the doctors reviewing his TBI case cleared him. Still having one of the best intel and recon specialists in a secure location where he could tweak satellites was one hell of a perk of having Remi at home.
“All Stations, Grizzly, let’s roll.”
They fell into formation with Talon and Zombie ranging out in front of them, making sure their route was clear. Operation Buttercup was a go.
* * *
“Grizzly, Lego.” Even though he had only addressed him, Talon’s voice on comms stopped them all in their tracks and they crouched down, making themselves a smaller target.
“Go ahead, Lego.”
“Zombie is alerting, but I can’t see anything, even with NVGs.”
“Fuck.” He thumbed on comms, making sure to turn down the volume to its lowest setting. “Zipper, Grizzly, have you got eyes ahead of our location?” As Remi was patched into comms, he figured his brother was already working on it and knew why Talon and Zombie had stopped their progress. Sometimes the dog was a pain in the ass, but other times like this he was potentially saving their asses, so Gunnar could more than deal with his moods at home.
“Grizzly, Zipper, stand by. Let me see if I can get something in position, stat.” In other words, Remi was going to see if he could shuffle a satellite.
Gunnar cocked his head to one side, waiting, watching, and listening. But he got nothing but the sounds of the mountain. Whatever was out there was something the local wildlife were used to. The animals were still scurrying about and the insects still chirping. Could a man stay that quiet for long enough that the animals didn’t see him as a threat? Yes, yes, he could. Snipers did it all the time. He motioned to his team, and they melted into the bushes. Not that it would do them much good if that sniper had thermal on his scope.
“Grizzly, Zipper.”
“Go ahead, Zipper.”
“I can’t see anything on the device, which is in the area. But the tech isn’t great, so I can’t verify if you have something ahead.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much.”
He had a good idea of what the answer would be, but he asked the question anyway. “Recommendations?”
“Divert via insertion point two,” Remi said immediately.
Just as I thought. Damn it.
Gunnar pulled up the map on his wrist device and dropped a pin in his location. From there, Remi would send him back the route he recommended. Thirty seconds later,Gunnar blew out a silent frustrated breath. Just fuck it all to hell in a balloon. The last thing he wanted to do was to skirt around by at least five klicks, if not more. “Zipper, Grizzly, you have any alternative options?”
“Straight down the wire and maybe get your head blown off,” Remi replied. “Which based on the bitching from the chair behind me is not an acceptable option.”
