Cade no longer resented the changes plastic surgery had made to his face. He didn’t regret joining Ghosts for a second. He loved what he did. Loved chasing assholes online. Finding hints of terrorist groups or plots and pinpointing their location. That fucking rocked. Especially when he could send their strike team after the assholes.
Ghost Protectors recruited from Special Forces units across the globe to join their elite team of Black Ops Commandos. Since the fiasco in Lebanon a couple of years ago, where the Department of Defense had been taking them off their Black Ops Roster, things had changed in Ghosts. They had moved from military bases in the United States to the bunker Rock and Grif had used to train their new recruits. Rather than working for the DOD or even JSOC, the team now worked with a three-person chain of command: their Commanders, Rock and Grif, and the President.
Every mission was carefully planned. Intel was gathered from multiple sources across the globe and entered into a program Cade had helped develop. The machine sped up the processes that went into calculating the probability of a terrorist attack or the location of a target. His time in Mexico had only honed his skills on the net. But sometimes he just needed more. Argh, Intel and coms may be his jam, but sometimes nothing else would do but to don the camo and go to war with the men and women he had come to consider family.
Despite the fact that he mostly worked in the team's tactical operating center, located in a dormant volcano in Mexico, Cade knew his skills as an operator were better than average. Rock and Grif ensured all their people had top of the line training. Every recruit went through a program similar to BUDs. Hell Week didn’t just happen Southern California, Commander Garret ‘Rock’ Rockwell had created his own version, right down to the obstacle course and playing with the recruits' minds.
“Where the fuck were you?”
The snarled question in Lebanese from somewhere to his right put Cade on alert. He couldn’t see who the man was whisper shouting at, and didn’t have time to peer through the fern plants blocking his view before someone opened fire with what sounded like a pair of fifty cals—as in 50 mm machine guns. Bullets designed to act like can openers peppered the bar, shattering windows and glass, and blowing holes in the walls. Cade dropped to the floor, trying to take cover behind what was available, the flimsy wood of the circular table he had been seated at and the half wall blocking his view of the door.
His weapon already in his hand, Cade pushed down the instinct to fire. Thank fuck for the training and experience he had just been thinking of. He waited to see if someone would appear around the corner of the booth.Amateurs, he thought when the boom of the cannons the assholes were firing retreated away from the bar. What the fuck? Had he landed in the middle of a cartel war or a terrorist plot? A glance toward the bar told him the server was dead. The man’s vacant stare, and the pooling blood under what was left of his chest as he lay sprawled on the bar counter told him he didn’t need to waste time checking for a pulse.
Ten. Nine. Eight…Cade counted back in his head before he dared reaching for his cell. He was way too far from home for any of his team to provide immediate back up. While he tapped in a fast-coded message that roughly translated meant, ‘get your fucking butts over here and rescue my ass,’he multitasked, both listening for movement and figuring out which freaking safe house his ass could make it to if he managed to make it out alive. Probably the one he had dropped his gear in was a good bet.
Rather than message the FNG who was manning the TOC for the weekend, he sent the message to Angelo. The Italian had been one of Italy’s most decorated Special Forces Operators, CONSUBIN, Command Underwater Incursors, before he’d been recruited to Ghosts and was one of Cade’s best friends. If shit was happening, and he needed back up, ‘Lo was the one to get it for him. “Shit.”
“Hey?”
Cade spun silently, pointing the weapon toward the voice who had answered his soft whisper. He couldn’t see shit from here. Yeah, apparently back against the wall wasn’t always the best position to have. Bah. He was an idiot, but a damn lucky one. If he had been visible from the entrance, he would have been shot.
“Hey?” the voice whispered again, “Nahim?” the man was clearly talking to someone.
Was he talking to the Lebanese-speaking asshole bitching when the shooter came in?
“Fuck.”
“Shh.” Cade muttered softly, “If they hear you, we are dead.” He spoke in Lebanese, as that was the language the voice was using. “Can you see anything?”
“No,” the voice answered, “Nahim’s body is blocking my view.”
Overhead, from the upper floors, the sound of gunfire came in bursts. One or two shots at a time, interspersed with the sounds of screams. After every shot, the silence was deafening. Cade’s brain figured out what it meant. Damn it, these guys were going room to room and taking out everyone in the building.
The phone in his hand vibrated. Cade swiftly hit the mute button. Other than the man on the opposite side of the half wall, he didn’t think there was anyone else in the room. But he wasn’t taking any chances either. He didn’t need to swipe the screen to read the message from Mexico.
Get your ass out of there!
You have intel?Cade replied to the message from Angelo. He already knew the second his message had hit their servers that Rock and Grif were notified that he had a problem. If he knew anything about his two bosses it was that their asses were already heading toward the hanger at Dreamworld, as their home base was affectionately called. And they were headed toward him with a team. He just needed to stay alive until they got to him.
Chatter on the web says it’s a hit against Hezbollah operative, Rafik Kassem, in retaliation for the murder of a cartel princess. His youngest son is the target.Get your ass out of there, stat.
Roger,Cade texted back.Got a civilian in tow.
Copy.Angelo’s message hit his screen almost immediately.You know where to go.
“Hey, are you there?” Cade called softly to the man.
“Yes?” the man answered immediately in English.
Goosebumps rose along his arms.Fuck my life!He knew that voice, “Rio?”
“Umm…”
“It’s Cade.” Cade went through the plans for the hotel in his head. He had spent time scrutinizing them on his way here. Wanted to know all the exits and escape routes. If there was one thing Rock and Grif had drilled into them, it was that your backup plans needed to have multiple backup plans. In his head, he made a silent reminder to thank his boss for the lesson.
You are clear to move.
The text message flashed on his cell. Just that brief sentence telling him that his guys in Mexico had accessed the security feed for the hotel. Good, they could warn him of any issues. Cade quickly scrolled through the apps and found the radio application. Putting a Bluetooth speaker/microphone around his ear, he pressed push to talk. Using his cell as a two-way radio would be a serious drain on the battery, but until his ass was clear of the hotel, he needed TOC’s eyes and ears. “Moving.” He barely breathed the word but knew TOC would hear him. He crawled from behind the table, careful to move silently and to keep his head and body below the half wall which would expose him to view from the foyer.
