Chapter
One
“Jesus, Twist,” Roarke grumbled. “I’m gonna shove that dip down your throat if you spit near me again.” He and his men had been staked out since 0300, and though it was now evening, the hellish Afghan heat was enough to fry Roarke’s skin. It had already set his patience ablaze.
They’d been stationed in the desert for the last three days, having received a high-priority tip. Taliban attacks had escalated across Kabul and Kandahar. The gruesome displays of power and hate were enough to push all of them over the edge.
Twist snickered. He was kneeling on top of the rocky mountain ledge to Roarke’s left. Sweat and dirt covered his cheeks, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He’d long since stopped protesting the nickname. Thanks to the Charles Dickens novel, Oliver’s friends had been calling him Twist since they were kids. “Rogue’s panties are in a bunch today.”
If Roarke had to spend another second watching Twist suck and spit chewing tobacco, he’d follow through with his threat. They might be Marine Recon, but Roarke had no problem kicking his best friend’s ass when needed.
“Shut up, you two,” snapped Viper, the big oaf. He scrubbed his thumb under his chin from where he sat across from Roarke against a large rock. “I swear, y’all are like damn kids.” His lazy tone seemed more pronounced in the hazy heat.
Roarke twisted off the cap of his canteen and guzzled. As annoying as Twist could be, Roarke couldn’t imagine not working alongside him. These men weren’t just his team. They were his brothers. Especially Twist.
“It calms me. Wanna try?” Twist offered the can.
Roarke curled his lip. “That shit’s nasty. Laine would slap you stupid if she knew you were chewing.”
Twist narrowed his eyes. “You tell my sister, and I’ll throw a scorpion in your bed.”
“Movement, twelve o’clock,” Bruce said, his tone lethal.
Roarke crouched toward the edge of the mountain next to Twist, where they were hidden by a boulder. Through the scope, he watched a beat-up truck roll over the uneven terrain toward what was believed to be Taliban leader Ahmed Muhammad’s compound. The first sign of activity they’d witnessed. Which was a damn good thing because he was starting to question their source.
“Vehicle matches the description of the one seen laying the IED,” Bruce said, staring through binoculars.
Anger pierced Roarke’s temples. The IED, which had been set off at a market four days ago, had killed two dozen people, including children.
As team leader, he needed to make a call. “Get locked on the compound,” he said into his mic. “Hold for fire.”
The radio operator confirmed. Roarke didn’t need to look up to be certain the drone was overhead.
“Yeah, boss.” Twist winked and sent a wad of brown spit to the dirt. “Let’s do this.”
Roarke raised his eyebrow at the yellow saliva near his foot. “Man, you’re brave.”
“I gotta be, workin’ with you.” Twist laughed and elbowed him, making Roarke smile despite himself. His friend’s ability to make light of any situation was what their team needed.
Especially in a hot-ass shithole like this.
He trekked down the backside of the mountain with Twist on his six. Bruce and Viper followed. In minutes they were moving stealthily toward the compound.
A hundred feet away, they stopped and lowered themselves behind a cluster of boulders. Using his scope, Roarke spotted a solid iron gate in the center of the cement walls surrounding the fortress. The vehicle was now covered with a camouflage tarp.
“Confirmation needed,” he said to the radio operator.
“We’ve got eyes on the target. Eight men are inside. Ahmed’s identity confirmed. Waiting for your go.”
Twist’s chewing temporarily ceased and eagerness clenched his sweat-smeared face. Roarke moved his attention from Twist back to the compound and kept aim.
Bruce and Viper trained their weapons on the entrance. Once the strike hit, they’d need to close in fast, eliminate any survivors, and sweep the area for intel.
“Green light,” Roarke said.
Static crackled in his ear. “Copy.”
Roarke’s chest tightened as he waited for the drop. A soft whistle sounded from above. The sharp blast throttled the air, rippling in waves. Wind hit his face as the compound exploded.
