“Doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Danny kept staring at his computer screen, scrolling down the lines of chatter on one of the social media sites Homeland Security monitored for intel. “We just have to find it.”
“We are running out of time.” Cade knew his frustration and annoyance came through in his tone. He couldn’t freaking help that. It pissed him off that his worry for Rio was screwing with his brain. Instead of figuring out what the fuck was going on, he had images of what could happen running through his mind. He had called in every favor he had earned over his years as a Ghost. It was getting to the stage where he was tempted to reach out to people he knew when he was a Commando. That would herald the end of his role as a Ghost. But to save Rio, yeah, that would be worth the price.
“Stop that.” Rock’s command was followed by a swift smack on the back of Cade’s head. “Focus, damn it.”
Zenko’s cell vibrated where it lay on the floor next to him, and he swiped the screen. “Go.”
“Zenko, I got him.”Max’s voice echoed down the phone, as if he too were on speaker phone.
“Where?”
“Mogadishu.”
“Gear up.” Rock didn’t even wait for any more intel. They had a location, had an idea of where they were going, and could figure out the rest of the shit on the plane.
* * *
“Angelo, call Cade and tell him to get his ass on the plane, STAT!”
Rock was fucking pissed. He was second guessing if it was a good idea to bring Cade with them. How the hell had he managed to get lost between the tarmac where the Blackhawk landed and the C-130 they were taking to Africa?
“I should have left him at home, he’ll get himself killed.”
“You said that out loud!”
Rock glanced at Grif, who had taken the seat beside him for takeoff. “Huh?”
“You said that out loud. As if you and all of us on this damn plane wouldn’t go out of our way and put our lives on the line for the ones we love.”
Rock grunted at Grif. Unclipping his belt, he was about to stand when Cade came through the door of the plane. “About fucking time.”
“Chill, Rock,” Cade told him. He dropped a laptop case on the pile of go bags on the floor and took a seat beside Angelo. “I have some updated info on Rio.”
“Danny, tell the damn pilot we are ready for takeoff.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Rock heaved a sigh. Fuckers were going to make him crazy before they got to Somalia.
The light touch of fingers on his thigh had him wrapping his own around them and giving a squeeze in return—just for a couple of seconds. He fucking needed the connection to Grif. Having Allie with them would be better, but for now he needed this touch with at least one of his trio to ground him. Bah, years of war and death should have hardened his soul, but somehow, as he got older the closer he was to being done with this life.
Nope, don’t go there. This is not the time!He told himself.
With one last press of the tips of his fingers into Grif’s palm, he let go of his hand and closed his eyes.
They had about twenty minutes before the flight leveled out, so it would be best if he caught a battle nap now. Thank fuck for military training on how to sleep anywhere.
“Where the fuck were you?” Angelo whispered softly to Cade as soon as his teammate planted his ass in the seat next to him. When he didn’t get a response, he glanced sideways at him.
What the fuck? Was he sleeping?
He nudged his friend sharply with his elbow, sending a tingle through his funny bone when it connected with solid muscle,. Dammit. Angelo shook out his hand. “Are you listening to me, Cade?”
“Yup,” Cade answered without even opening his eyes. “I’m just waiting for you to ask either something intelligent, or to quit treating me like a fucking glass that is going to shatter into a million pieces in five seconds flat.”
The ding of the seatbelt warning created a mad scramble as all the men moved toward the open space farther back in the plane.
Cade set up his field laptop and some other equipment that he would need for laying out the mission briefing and intelligence that had come through from the DOD shortly after Rock had spoken to them, to brief them on the situation. Situation? Who was he kidding, Rio wasn’t a situation—he was freaking everything. Why had it taken him this long to realize it?
