by Ronie Kendig
Standard fare. With one exception: Heath. Why was he going? The Special Forces team didn’t need a broken soldier and his dog.
But the thought of helping find Jia …
It still didn’t make sense.
Heath turned to Burnett. “Permission to speak, sir?”
“Not now, Daniels,” Burnett said.
“We have sat imaging and the report of one Alice Ward, who was on scene when the attack took place.” Early nodded to the lanky major who cut the lights. A projector threw images up on the wall, forcing Watters and his team to shift to view the pictures.
An aerial short of the mountain stretched over the wall. “This was taken about an hour ago. No heat signatures anymore, thanks to the storm rolling in.”
Watters’s team shook their heads. This was going to be fun in reverse, but they were soldiers. And soldiers didn’t complain when things got a little tough. Or in this case, a little cold.
“Now, we have this thermal image from last night.”
Candyman pointed to several spots. “Fires.” His finger wavered beneath the imprint of the image. “This …” He tapped a green spot and glanced at Watters. The grim expression spoke for both of them. Bodies … dying.
“You should know there are reports of Chinese military in the area.”
Watters pivoted, his brow knotted. “Sir?”
“You heard me.” Early tugged off the reading glasses. “Chinese. We don’t know why they’re there or what they’re after, but if you encounter them, your orders are STK.”
Shoot to kill? What was that about?
Burnett motioned to the major, who hustled to his side and bent low. The general spoke into his ear, then Otte hurried out of the room.
“Daniels, you’ll stay with ODA452, use that dog of yours to see if you can find anything useful.”
Again, this was all exciting and thrilling—in fact, it was what he’d wanted—but these men could do the work in half the time, grab a dog team from another unit, and they were good to go. To be honest, he didn’t want to put Watterboy or Candyman in harm’s way, and that’s exactly what he felt would happen.
Heath pushed his attention to the grumpy general. Bulldog. Throw the dog a bone.
“Not now, Daniels,” Burnett growled.
Heath let out a huff.
“Sir.” Watters’s tone was gruff. “Permission to speak freely?”
Early glowered. “Go on.”
“Sirs, with all due respect to you and to Ghost—Daniels,” Watters said, his face grim and red, “I must lodge a protest against his inclusion on this mission. Sir.”
A stake through the heart would not have hurt as much. Heath lowered his head. He never expected that, for a man he trained to turn against him. Even though it made sense. If their roles were reversed, he’d do the same thing, but still …
“Explain yourself,” Burnett said.
“Sir, I have the utmost respect for Daniels. I worked under him, then with him. He’s a good man.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I’ve seen him in action since his return. He’s still there, engaged—until his body shuts down.” Material shuffled, as if Watters shifted his feet. “I witnessed him in a four-second blackout. He went down, lost sight of his dog and his team. When he came to, he was disoriented.” Watters had gotten quieter with each word. “Sir, out there, in the field, that’s the difference between life and death. In all good conscience, I can’t put my men at risk like that.”
“Understood.” Burnett’s gaze bored into Heath, who lowered his head once again. “ODA452, grab your gear. Head to the choppers. Dismissed.”
Ghost looked haunted. Lance had seen it before. In fact, he’d been there once, back in Somalia. All his dad’s shaman talk and his mom’s Christianese didn’t do much against those demons that plagued the mind. A counselor and years took the edge off that.
The look on Ghost told him there was more truth to Watterboy’s words than Daniels would ever admit.
As if a boulder of guilt sat on his shoulders, Ghost rose.
“Daniels,” Lance barked. “Sit.”
Surprise clawed into the young man’s face as he dropped back against the chair. The dog beside him raised her head. “Sir?”
Lance blew a hard breath against his fisted hand as he considered the young man. Darci hadn’t ever been willing to stand up to him when it came to a dating interest. But she had with this former Green Beret. And Darci had been the cream of the crop in assessing people. Even though she said she’d lost that gift with Jianyu, Lance tried to get her to see that Jianyu was a different type of man. One of the most dangerous with his uncanny ability to wait out his enemy.
Back to Daniels. So this man had some good mettle, or the young woman he thought of as a daughter wouldn’t go to bat for him.
The room had cleared minutes ago. They were alone. With Ghost’s ghouls and Lance’s demons. “Is it true? Does that scar on the back of your head go deeper than your thick skull?”
Jaw muscles flexing, Daniels nodded. “I blacked out—yes, sir.”
“Do you think you put others in jeopardy?”
His mouth opened but said nothing, an automatic rejection seemingly lodged at the back of his throat. Misery smothered his hope. “Yes, sir. I guess it does …”
“I’m hoping you got a mighty big ‘but’ coming.”
The man studied him, and Lance saw the burden, the passion, the warrior hiding behind the mask of failures and wounds.
Daniels shook his head. “No, sir.”
Somehow, Lance wanted to reach in and haul that warrior back to the present. “No, let’s hear it. Put it all on the table.”
He straightened, and the highly decorated Green Beret surfaced again. “I got banged up in a training incident when we arrived. Nothing serious, but it pinched a nerve in my neck. An Afghan doctor at FOB Murphy gave me an adjustment.” Heath met his gaze. “I haven’t had a headache since.”
“So you think it cured you?”
“No, sir.” Swift and sure, the answer was the right one. But did the young man realize it? “I wish it were that easy, for me and countless others, but unless a miracle occurs and the scar tissue in my brain vanishes, I’ll have problems with headaches and seconds-long blackouts. But before arriving here, I hadn’t blacked out for months.” He stared at his hands, then his dog. “I want to do this. I want to be there … for Jia.”
Lance didn’t know whether to punch him or thank him. “Well, I hope you’re right because I need you out there.”
Heath frowned. “Why? You have handlers without my issues. Just assign one—”
“You’re the only one who spent time with her.”
Daniels quieted.
“Son, what I’m about to tell you is to go no further than where you’re sitting.” Lance stared at him hard as he pushed out of his seat, came around the table, and hiked up a leg and leaned against the surface. “Am I making myself clear? Because if you so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, I will make sure you can’t dig yourself out of the hole I bury you in. You tracking?”
“Sir. Yes, sir.” Steady. Solid. The guy had a stellar combat record. Numerous medals. But it was the confidence without cockiness that resonated with Lance. Probably the same reason Darci had been drawn to him.
“That young woman you met is a military intelligence officer.”
Gray eyes met his with little emotion.
“You aren’t surprised?”
“It explains a few things.”
“Like?”
“Like why she would show interest in me, then sever any chance of talking in the future.”
“That was my fault. She mentioned you one too many times, and I bit her head off for it.” And Darci had never been the kind to get distracted by big muscles or big talk, so there was something to the kid before him. He’d have to trust her instinct. In fact, he was trusting Darci by sending this former Green Beret out after her. “I think you saw that confrontation.”
Daniels gave a slow nod.
“She’s one of our most important assets.” He reached back, picked up a folder, rifled through it, and plucked a photo from it. “This man is Wu Jianyu. A week ago, we thought he was the loyal son of General Zheng Xin.”
“Minister of defense.”
“Exactly.” Lance stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, noting Daniels wasn’t surprised yet again. “For years we have seen Wu Jianyu climbing the ranks, to take his father’s seat when Zheng retired, we assumed.”
“And now?”
“Now, he’s a rogue son, bent on sabotaging his father’s name, bent on igniting some long-repressed fears of a war between China and the U.S.”
Daniels’s gaze darted over the image. “He’s the one in the mountains?”
“That’s our belief. We also have reason to believe he is after Jia.”
“Is that her real name?”
“It’s the only name you need to know.” Lance smiled, weighing what he would say next. “I need you and that dog up there. Jia might be dead, but I doubt it. She’s a resourceful operative.” He returned to the head of the table. “Get up there, find her, bring her back. Am I clear, Daniels?”
“Crystal, sir, but …”
“That sounds like a mighty big ‘but,’ son.”
“Yes, sir.” The kid gave a miserable sigh and shook his head, muttering. “This is crazy. I wanted this … with every breath, every beat of my Green Beret heart …”
“Wanted what?”
“To be back here, fighting, doing what I was trained to do.”
“Good. You’re back. Bring Jia home.”
“No, sir.”
The response knocked Lance back a mental step. “Excuse me?” Had this punk kid just told him no? “Want to try that again?”
“I mean …” Daniels huffed. “With all due respect, sir …” He glanced down at Trinity, and Lance could see the emotions rolling off the kid like heat plumes. Failure. Fear. Inadequacy. “I think Watters is right, sir. I don’t belong out there anymore. My head … my body—they’re too weak.”
Lance could take this rejection and let the guy walk. But that would mean Darci might not come back. That wasn’t acceptable. In Basic, the newbs were pushed until they redefined the “can’t” to “yes, sir.” As a former soldier, Daniels knew better than to sling whines and excuses.
Which meant Lance had one recourse. Though he hated pushing this kid, he had no choice. He kicked a chair. “Well, too bad.”
Daniels blinked. “Sir?”
“I said too bloody bad.” He stabbed a finger at him. “You’re going. I need you in there. I need that dog—”
“But—”
“No buts. You were military issue once, and I can dang well make it legit again. And I know you don’t want that since you know what it’d mean to your dog.” He let the threat hang rank and ominous in the chilled room. “So just get your sorry butt out there and do it, Daniels.”
The man’s chest heaved. “I can’t. I pass out, I—”
“Well … don’t. You know her. That dog knows her scent. That’s what I need. Not some whiny, complaining grunt.” Lance stomped to his feet. “You liked her, didn’t you, Daniels—Jia?”
Daniels swallowed, and Lance wanted to yank his Adam’s apple till the kid squawked into submission. Why couldn’t the punk see he had the one thing Darci needed—someone going after her who cared. Someone who wanted her safe.
“Her life is in your hands.”
Mouth open, Heath stared back at him.
“One more thing.” He indicated to Otte, who stood by the door in complete silence during this tête-à-tête, then slipped out without a word. “I’m partnering you with Zheng Haur and his first officer.”
This might be a mistake, but there were two lines of thinking here. One: Haur could be an asset. He had a vested interest in stopping Jianyu from sabotaging forward international progress between China and other countries, something for which General Zheng had been a vocal advocate.
Or two: He could be blowing a lot of smoke up their proverbial skirts. In which case, Lance wanted someone out there to protect Darci. Someone with a vested interest in Darci. Unfortunately, she cared about Daniels, too. What he hoped was that the two didn’t combine those feelings and come out wanting something more. Lance couldn’t lose an asset like Darci.
Heath glanced back, and when he didn’t show any surprise at the arrival of Colonel Zheng, the decision was cemented. He’d picked the right man for this mission.
“Daniels, meet your new partner, Zheng Haur, the informally adopted son of General Zheng.”
Daniels pulled to his feet.
“We have no reason not to trust him,” Lance said. “Except that he’s Chinese.”
The remark had its desired effect. Outrage rippled through Zheng’s expression but then faded to resignation.
Lance clapped a hand on Daniels’s shoulder. “Keep a close eye on him, son.” He squeezed the muscle. “If you can do this, I might be able to find a way to give you your career back.”
Heath went stiff. “Sir. I—”
“Just bring her home, Daniels.”
Twenty-Four
So close. So very close. Yet years and miles away. Being in Afghanistan, without the eyes of General Zheng peering over his shoulder, Haur’s fantasy swirled through his mind and took root.
No. It would be too risky. He could not.
They had separated him from his men save Captain Bai. Tactically, it was smart. But it also left a curtain in Haur’s hidden vault vulnerable. Behind it … He wasn’t even sure the door behind that curtain existed anymore.
It’d been so long. So very long.
“Promise me!”
The hissed, frantic words seared his memory.
With a thud and a gust of wind, a large pack dropped on the concrete in front of him. “Your gear. Courtesy of the U.S. Special Forces.”
Haur rose slowly, not wanting to appear confrontational. “Thank you.”
The man thrust a hand forward, the other resting on the stock of his M4A1. “You can call me Watterboy.” He twisted his upper body and pointed to the others. “That’s Candyman.” A man with a brown beard and sunglasses perched on his head touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute but kept working. “The others you’ll get to know. The guy with the dog, your partner, we call Ghost.”
“My captain, Bai, and I am Haur.”
“Did he say whore?”
“Hey!” The man in front of him scowled. “Keep it clean.” He smirked. “Think maybe we’ll just call you ‘Colonel,’ but don’t think for a second we’re under your authority.”
“We want the same thing, Watterboy.” They did not trust him with their names. He understood. Breaking down the barriers, discovering if these men could be of help to him …
Smiling, Watterboy backstepped. “Not so sure about that.”
“I want Jianyu returned to China.” Haur glanced around. “I know him best and can assure you that is, without a doubt, what you want.”
Watterboy spun, and as he did, he slowed as he passed the dog handler. The two exchanged a glance that spoke of bad blood. Perhaps it would be useful should Haur need to create division among this team.
A blue glow drew his gaze to the side.
Candyman pecked on a military-grade laptop with its virtually indestructible case. A curiosity itched at the tips of Haur’s fingers. If he could just use that for two minutes … maybe four. It was all he needed. He could universally shift the course—
“Storm’s coming,” someone said as he dropped more gear. “A mean, nasty one with a butt load of snow and freezing temperatures.”
A rumble of groans reverberated through the room.
His brother might just die before Haur gave General Zheng the pleasure of unleashing his vengeance on his son. To Bai, he said in Chinese, “He will not have prepared for that.”
“Perhaps, but little stops his iron will,” Bai spoke so
ftly in their native tongue, his face not masking the disgust as he assessed the team. “They are weak. Jianyu will outsmart them.”
Haur glanced toward the taller leader and the dog handler. “I would not underestimate them, Bai.”
“Ghost.”
Haur looked as Watterboy handed off a pack. “Got these from the kennel. Thought you could use it for Trinity.”
Ghost hesitated, then took the packages. He unwrapped the smaller. “Doggles, sweet.” He smiled, then opened the larger item. “Whoa. No way!” He held up what appeared to be a vest. “Tell me … this isn’t … an Intruder?“
Watterboy grinned. “Yeah, don’t mention it.”
“I can’t believe they let you have a Storm Intruder vest. This thing has everything—camera, special harness, life vest, four-channel receiver—dude!”
Watterboy and another man laughed. “Seriously. Don’t mention it. Not to anyone. Just go with it.” The meaning was not to be missed. They’d absconded with one for the man and his team, which made Haur wonder why it was not just issued to the soldier.
Ghost’s smile slipped, but he nodded.
“I’m counting on you and Trinity to keep us alive.”
Grating and grinding, the large steel door rolled up into the ceiling. General Burnett stood, flanked by a half-dozen men, most in suits. Which meant, not military. “Okay, ladies. Gather up.”
Haur started forward, but Burnett held up a hand. “Sorry, Colonel. I’ll need you to stay out of this one.”
Haur stood mute, frozen. Overwhelmed, once again, by the certainty that he would not come off that mountain alive.
Heath tested the vest once more for a snug, solid fit. He tugged on the front around her shoulders to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. His mind zigzagged over the cost, over the question of whether he’d have to return it—of course he would, it was a forty-grand loan—and how much he wished he could keep it.
