Ethan did as commanded and within a few seconds everyone was secured and ready to go. Marley stood next to Riser with a frown on her face. He could tell she was scared—any sane person would be scared right now—but watching out for her slowed them down, which only pissed him off more.
“You stay with me. Hunter, take the lead. Jared, Hoyt, bring up the rear. If they mow our asses down, I want to pick them off. Fall in.”
Marley kept her mouth shut and did as he ordered. Maybe she was finally starting to grasp the precarious position they were in. No matter how well-trained or deadly his special operators were, if over a hundred guerillas showed up with AKs and machetes, they wouldn’t be able to protect her. More likely, none of them would survive. “Move out. Keep silent. If we get separated, find your way to the nearest evac point on the route.”
Hunter and Ranger silently began walking, Riser, Reaper, Merc and Aaron right behind them, Mack and Marley following suit. Ethan, Jared, and Hoyt brought up the rear. They had their weapons drawn and raised, ready for any attack.
The only sounds in the jungle were their barely audible steps as they padded on the soft turf of the Congo. The random start of automatic rifles blasted every minute or so. The gunfire wasn’t growing louder, but it wasn’t getting farther away either, which was just as bad. The guerrillas were moving parallel to them, and without being able to get up in those trees, Mack’s team was running blind. They needed to figure out where the hell they were, a task that had just gotten many orders more difficult.
Mack gave a low whistle and everyone stopped, then he lifted his hand. When he had their attention, he signaled east, moving in a perpendicular line away from the sound of the gunfire. They moved like that for thirty minutes or more, the gunfire growing weaker. They kept moving until only the sounds of the jungle filled the silence before Mack called a halt.
His team squatted in the foliage, hidden from any immediate detection, and awaited his commands. Even Marley was still silent, but she seemed to be in control of her emotions and not flipping out. In fact, she had her pistol raised as she scanned her surroundings, much like the rest of his team was doing. He couldn’t help but feel a small measure of pride that she had obviously taken her training seriously after all.
As Marley had seen fit to remind him, all Air Force pilots had to complete SERE training before going active and beginning pilot school, which meant she had been taught what to do in these types of situations. But the likelihood she’d ever had to use those skills was closer to zero.
Until now.
He doubted she’d seen much combat at all, let alone a plane crash in the Congo with a team of guerrillas hunting them. Then there was the not-so-small detail that her copilot had intentionally crashed the plane.
All in all, Mack thought she was handling it very well, maybe too well. Was it possible she really had played a role in the crash? Mr. J’s backup in case the copilot failed?
Mankel had already proven he had no problem sacrificing people for his cause, men, women, or children. What did Mack even know about her, except she had a very feminine, curvaceous body under her flight suit? Nothing, other than that she was feisty and possibly afraid of heights—something that still baffled him.
But he didn’t have time to question her, and he wouldn’t until they figured out where the hell they were and where they were going.
“Hoyt,” Mack kept his voice as quiet as possible. Just because they hadn’t heard any sounds recently didn’t mean the guerrillas weren’t still out there stalking the survivors who had dared step foot on their turf. They’d probably figured out that whatever was on that plane had to be pretty precious. “Can you get up that tree? We need to figure out our location so we can get the fuck out of here. I have no intention of being taken out by guerrillas before we complete our mission.”
Hoyt scooted closer, the long, jagged scar running down his left cheek even more terrifying looking in this environment. Marley flinched.
Hoyt pretended like he hadn’t noticed and saluted, “Yes, Sir.”
And then he disappeared up into the tree closest to them, deadly silent in his ascent.
“What happened to him?” Marley whispered.
Mack held silent, motioning for his men to fan out in a tight circle. Finally, he said, “He was captured and tortured. It’s not his fault.” For some reason he thought her question was less of a shallow remark about the scar than an uncomfortable reaction to Hoyt.
“He deserves a medal for what he’s been through,” Mack growled. Had he read her so wrong? His interrogation training had taught him that people’s initial reactions almost never lied. Something akin to disappointment filtered down to his muscles.
Why the hell did he care what she thought? He hadn’t even ruled out the possibility that she was a double agent working for Jack Mankel.
“He reminds me of a good friend I made the first time I joined up. Not long after being deployed for his first tour of duty with the parajumpers, he was captured and tortured. When they rescued him, he was seconds from dying, and I think for a while after that he wished he had. I went to see him in the hospital, but he refused to see me the first couple of months.” Marley fell silent
Mack heard the pain in her voice and realized he had not misjudged her. He also took in the fact that she hadn’t given up on a buddy for months in a situation that sounded so much like Hoyt’s. His voice was raspy when he asked, “And did he make it?
The rest of his team stayed fanned out to a few feet away, constantly scanning their environment, eyes aligned with the sights on their rifles, but he could tell from their stances they were all listening to her story. Hoyt’s capture and torture had hit them all on a deep level. Special Forces operatives were closer than family. The team brought them together—as did the knowledge that each and every one of them would actively give up his life to save a teammate.
Marley drew in a breath, the sound of the air pulling through her lips sort of wobbly. “No. He made it long enough to get his living will in order. One day he asked me to look out for his wife and make sure she was okay. I thought he was just asking me as a friend, you know? That he figured a female officer could talk to her a bit more easily than one of our male counterparts. But after I left that day, he stole a scalpel and killed himself.”
The air in the jungle weighed on the entire team like a three-ton elephant. Hoyt had come close to doing the same damn thing, and if it hadn’t been for Hunter and Ranger’s sister, Hayden James, he would have.
Chill bumps covered Mack’s arms. Just the thought of losing one of his teammates made him physically ill. And the thought about what Hoyt’s older brother, Jared, would have to endure if Hoyt gave in to his demons . . .
Fuck, he was glad he had one tough-ass crew. Mack cleared his throat of the gravel that seemed to have grown there. “I’m sorry.”
Marley shrugged casually, but there was nothing casual about her expression or the pain in her eyes. “It happens, unfortunately. I just wish he had been strong enough to fight through it.”
There was a rustling of leaves, so faint Mack’s trained ears barely detected it. Hoyt stood not two feet from them.
