“I’ll be fine,” I say automatically. “Don’t worry about me.”
Yara shoots me anare you kidding melook. Then she elbows me in the ribs. “That’s about as dumb as telling you not to worry about me.”
Fair.
But before I can tell Yara she’s right—again, she has a habit of it—Rafe starts talking again.
“I know we’ve been through this,” he says. “But better overprepared than under.”
Grover nods. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“So,” Rafe continues, “once the van is hidden, Ace, Yara, and Indy, you’ll move out first. According to the sat images, thereshould be a small cluster of trees about halfway to the house, so you’ll stop there before making the final approach.”
Indy, Yara, and I all make soft sounds of affirmation.
“About fifteen seconds later,” Rafe adds, “I’ll head out with Tyler, Grover, and Trigger, and we’ll hide in the secondary cluster of trees to the east of the house. Saint will stay with the van, and as soon as he gets the signal, he’ll drive to the house to pick us up.”
“I’ll be watching for any unwelcome visitors, also,” Saint says. “Hopefully, at this time of night, we won’t have any. But just in case.”
In the dark of the car, Rafe’s features are lit only by the faint glow from Tyler’s laptop. His expression is hard. Fierce. Determined. “Once we’re all at the midway point, we’ll confirm that everyone’s ready. Then Ace’s group will head out first.” He stops to look at me. “You’ve got the flashbangs, right?”
He knows I do, but I’m not offended by him asking. If I were leading the op, I’d do the same thing. Better overprepared than underprepared, and all that.
“I do,” I reply, patting my vest pocket. “Three of them.”
“Good.” Rafe nods again. “Once the flashbangs go off, we’ll all head in. Ace and Yara, you’ll look for Malik. The rest of us will engage the tangos.” He pauses. “We want confirmation that Malik is there before we decide what to do with them. Not that we think your intel is wrong, Ty. But?—”
“I get it,” Tyler interrupts. “My source is good, but there’s always a possibility he’s mistaken. Or that Malik was moved.”
While searching for Malik, Tyler drew on the help of Leo and Matt, the other two computer experts for the Alpha and Bravo teams. But he also put out a call to a few other contacts, including one who works for the clandestine arm of the CIA, the Special Activities Center. And that’s where we found the info that led us here.
“Assuming these are the guys who’ve been keeping Malik,” Rafe says, his voice dipping dangerously, “I think we all know what to do.”
No one needs to respond. We know what Rafe means.
“Here we are,” Saint says. He slows the van even further, then steers it off the dirt road and onto the patchy grass. As the satellite images promised, there’s a small thicket of maybe twenty trees or so, enough to disguise the van, especially at this time of night.
Saint shuts the car off, explaining, “Just in case anyone drives by with their window open. I don’t want them to hear the engine idling.”
Rafe turns in his seat. “Are we all ready to move out?”
“Affirmative,” Grover replies. All but one of us—Yara—echo the same.
“Guys,” Yara says quietly. Somberly. “I just want to say”—her hand tightens around mine—“thank you. For coming here. I know what a risk we’re taking. Sneaking into Iran, breaking who knows how many rules…”
She’s not wrong. The risk we’re taking is tremendous. But the alternative—waiting months for the military to stage their own rescue—isn’t acceptable. Not knowing Malik is still out there, nearly out of hope but still hanging on.
And, shit. What if I could have rescued Yara sooner? Or Sawyer? Would there have ever been a question, if I had the intel and resources to do it?
“Sometimes rules need to be broken,” Rafe interrupts. “And this time is one of them.”
“Malik was my teammate, too,” Saint adds. “You think anything was going to keep me from coming?”
“We don’t leave brothers behind,” Grover says. “Or sisters. Or people we love.” He stops, no doubt thinking about his wife,Sierra, who was held hostage for nearly a year before he found her. “Not when we can do something about it.”
Indy turns in his seat, then rests his prosthetic hand on Yara’s knee. “You’re family, Yara. Which means Malik is part of our family, too. And we’d do anything for family.”
Yara glances at me. The bit of light in the van catches the tears in her eyes.
