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CHAPTERONE
adam
The sound of gunfire rang out throughout the quiet night air. Except twenty minutes ago, that quiet was ruined. I heard our targets shout from a distance; they were part of an enemy terrorist cell. They were responsible for the bombing of an American embassy in Lebanon. Several Americans were killed along with a large number of Lebanese citizens who were in the area.
We had orders to take the bombers out. We neutralized them and rescued the few survivors they pulled from the wreckage as hostages.
Our intel indicated there was a new leader in charge of their group, an extremist cell. The word on the grapevine was that he wanted to play games. He had a reputation for being cruel, and his methods for results were unusual. He seemed to get off on the fear of others—he had no idea what real fear was, but he’d learn. It would be the last thing he felt as he stared into our eyes while we put the barrel of a rifle to his head. We’d make sure he understood the true meaning of fear before he wentlights outand we avenged our fallen Americans.
“Straight ahead,” I called out to Wells in front of me. His head was turned to the right, scanning the building for any signs of unusual activity. Our intel led us to believe they used the village as a cover for their operation. I saw a suspicious young male entering the building straight ahead. He turned to glance at us for only a split second, but that was enough time to see the worry in his eyes. We weren’t a threat to the residents here—unless they were helping the extremist group. Some villagers even liked our presence. They benefited from our presence with supplies and snacks.
Wells moved forward quietly and reached the front wall of the building. He put his back against the bricks next to the door. We fell into position around the door, ready to breach it.
I was the breacher. While a lot of breachers in other, less-skilled units might have a sledgehammer, I didn’t. I had more body mass and strength than your average guy, even for Special Forces. Therefore, I hadn’t met a door that I couldn’t smash my way through, at least not in these parts. They couldn’t afford heavy steel doors.
Gunfire came from the roof of the building above us. They shot rounds into the awning that provided us with cover.
“Time to go, Strong,” Wells ordered.
“Roger.” I kicked out in front of me. The bottom of my boot made contact with the wooden door, and it splintered from the force. I took a step back and allowed Garcia and Mendez to step forward. They entered first to clear the room.
“Go, go, go!” Wells shouted.
They rushed through the door, and then Wells, Jones, and Yates followed. Guy and I brought up the rear. We had five people missing from our team for the rest of the mission; their injuries were too bad to continue on. We should have been pulled, but too much was riding on grabbing the group’s leader now. We couldn’t let him disappear again.
The front of the line checked the first rooms while Wells and Jones moved deeper into the house, and Guy and I followed.
“All clear,” Garcia called from behind me.
We heard footsteps up above us. I went running for the stairs with Guy and Jones at my six. I was eager to get my hands on the fuckers who shot at us only moments ago. I was eager to swiftly put a stop to a new terror cell and send a message in the area:Don’t fucking try.
I got to the top of the stairs and saw a man standing there. I came to a dead stop, which was hard to do for someone my size and speed. The man’s hand was wrapped tightly around a small detonator. His vest was visible, and his body shook like a leaf. I could smell his terror. I could read it in his eyes. He didn’t want to be there with a bomb strapped to his chest. He was coerced or forced. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Both sucked.
On the walls to the right and left were the injured Americans pulled and kidnapped from the ruins of the embassy. They had various degrees of injuries. One had a poorly applied tourniquet on his leg. There was no amount of therapy that would ever magically fix this trauma for them, assuming that we all survived.
“Easy there. Can you understand me?” I asked the man who had our lives in his hand,literally. I really hoped he freaking knew English. Our interpreter was downed.
He nodded.
“Let me get these innocent people out. They have families, jobs, and people who need them. You don’t want to hurt them, do you?” I kept my tone calm and leading. I wanted him to relinquish control to me, and to do that, he needed to like or fear me. I’d rather go for first and use the latter as a last resort.
He shook his head. Good, I could work with that.
“Is someone forcing you to do this?” I felt the presence of one of my brothers behind me. He didn’t make any sudden movements, which was good. We didn’t want to spook the scared man who was one finger movement from killing us all. Rescuing the prisoners was the new number-one priority, and it needed to happen quickly.
He nodded his head.
“Who?” I asked.
Behind me I heard Guy and Jones whispering to each other. I was vaguely aware of Guy backing down the stairs to go warn the others. We knew he was the only suspect still in this building; his oppressors left him behind to take out as many Americans as he could. This was all a trap, and we fell right into it. The intel was bad, and we might all die because of that. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Intel was just as valuable as the men who acted upon it. There was a bad informant who was likely being granted refuge, and that posed a danger to those in the safe house. The whole scenario was fucked. The danger stretched much further than our team and those civilians trapped in the building with us.
The man remained silent, staring at me. He swayed nervously on his feet, like he might pass out. He didn’t bother to acknowledge my question, and that jacked my heart rate up even further. The adrenaline of the situation had the sound of my blood pumping in my ears.
“Let’s try something else,” I mumbled. I implored him to listen to me with my eyes. “Will you let these innocent people go? The people who did this to you, they want us soldiers, not these innocent civilians,” I said, trying to switch gears. I wasn’t a hostage negotiator, but I’d been a part of enough training exercises to take a crack at it. What other choice did I have?
He nervously shook his head and then turned to face the window behind him.
Without moving my head, I looked behind him and saw the sniper scope pointed toward us from the opposite rooftop.
