She watched Liam and the rest of Charlie Team’s comm signatures that she’d tagged bright green, drift closer to the heat cluster.
Charlie One believed in her—trusted her. Jade refused to let the enemy win. She’d bring her men—her team—home after a successful mission. They didn’t know her by any other name than Raven, but she knew Charlie Team. She’d researched each one of them. Knew their specialties, their quirks, their names.
“Western ridge is your fallback,” she said, re-routing the digital map. “No flares. No drone cover. I’m dark beyond this feed.”
“Understood.”
“Liam…” She hesitated. She wanted to say more, but words failed her when it counted most. “Be careful.”
“Always am, Raven.”
The line clicked out, leaving her alone with her screens.
Liam’s comms signature and the others in Charlie Team moved as green dots on her screen. She stared at the heat signatures she’d pegged as Echo Team. They remained in the same place as when she found them forty-eight hours ago.
Jade had promised herself when she started working on the STRIKE Task Force that she’d never allow anyone to fall through the cracks on her watch.
So much for that.
But tonight, with the help of Charlie Team, she’d fix that error.
Now, if she could use her intel to keep Charlie Team alive and evacuate Echo Team from the hot zone without getting anyone killed.
Al-Jawf Province, Syria
Wednesday in Syria – 0300 Hours
Call Sign: Charlie One
Liam slidbehind a berm next to his second in command, Charlie Two Rafe Mendoza. Charlie Three, Dax Hanley, and Charlie Four, Boone Wallace mimicked their actions twenty-five feet away, keeping an eye on the other side of the compound.
Time had chewed up the place and spit it out in pieces. Cracked stone walls, piles of rocks, and a partial roof stood before him, the silence so thick Liam’s breath sounded like a ripple of thunder.
He crouched low behind the small ridge, the desert chill biting through his gear. “Raven, Charlie One, confirm heat signatures.”
“Charlie One, still five.” Her no-nonsense voice came through his comms. “Clustered. No change in body temperature or position.”
Liam had never met the woman. He didn’t even know her real name. But they’d formed a bond over the past couple of years during the times STRIKE Task Force contracted his team for jobs. There was no one he’d rather have watch his six than Raven.
Rafe joined him, peering over the crest. The man scanned the perimeter. “They’ve locked this place down tight.”
“Acknowledged, Charlie Two,” Raven responded.
Dax inched closer to their position. “They wanted ghosts.”
“They’re not getting them,” Boone growled. His normal, easy-going southern charm had vanished. “Not tonight.”
“Agreed, Charlie Three and Four. Echo is not disappearing without a trace. Not on my watch.” The irritated mumble of Raven’s final words tugged a smile from him.
“Copy, Raven.” He lifted his hand, signaling his men forward. “Stay tight. No chatter. Raven, keep eyes on our flank.”
“Already watching. I’ve got no electronic traffic within ten klicks. You’re in a blind zone. This was a planned blackout.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “Confirming no backup coming?”
“We never had any, Charlie One. The report is still sitting at the bottom of the pile. We’re it.”
“Charlie Three and Four, you have our six.” He and Rafe popped over the ridge. His team moved like shadows—silent, disciplined, focused like the retired special ops soldiers and sailors they were.
