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“ASAP.”
Ryland’s jaw dropped.What the fuck?He had a date to go on tomorrow night with Harper and now he was going to be stuck in goddamn Abu Dhabi. By the time they flew there, completed the op and returned home, he wouldn’t be able to take her out until at least Saturday night.
“Acknowledged.”
“The plane will take off as soon as you arrive at the airport.”
Fucking great.Ryland glared down at the tabletop. They shouldn’t have left until next week. They’d been averaging two missions a month and this was pushing things into frequent flier mile territory.
The moment Pharaoh disconnected the call, Ryland let out a low groan.
“Looks like your date just got canceled, Rip. Too bad.” Saint sent him a smirk.
“I thought we were leaving next week.” Ryland didn’t want to sound like a whiny bitch, but he didn’t appreciate the lack of notice. Despite what The Agency thought, they did have lives.
“Maybe they’re nervous Bashar will disappear,” Banshee offered, pushing his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose.
Ryland gave a derisive snort.
“Sorry, Rip,” Bruja commented. “But the world’s baddies don’t take your dating life into consideration.”
“Things change and we adapt. We all know that,” Pharaoh stated. “I suggest we get moving.”
With a low growl, Ryland stood up. There was nothing he could do except go with his team. He couldn’t return home first and ask Harper if they could push their date back, and he didn’t have her number to call and cancel.
He felt bad, but he’d explain that work took him on a last-minute trip out of the country. He’d make it up to her later. In the meantime, Bruja was right. There were bad guys out there who needed to be stopped and his job was to hunt them down and eliminate them. It was time to suck it up and focus on the mission ahead.
Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be the one to take the kill shot. A little extra vengeance on this fucker Bashar who just screwed up his entire weekend.
But it was like Pharaoh said. Adapt and move forward.
The team said goodbye to Banshee, who would direct them from their home base, and then split up into two SUVs provided by The Agency which took them to the private airport where they would fly out. Just like they’d been doing for the past six months. No doubt, their pilot would be the same guy as every other mission The Agency sent them on. No one knew anything about him except that his code name was Phantom. He never got personal, but the confidence he oozed led Ryland to believe he was former military and he was extremely skilled at his job.
Sitting in the backseat and staring out the SUV’s dark-tinted glass, Ryland mentally prepared himself for the mission ahead. They were all quiet, focused, ready to do what needed to be done. After a stop at the storage unit to gear up, they’d get on the plane and settle in for the long trip. Once they arrived at the private airstrip in Abu Dhabi, they’d head straight to Bashar’s compound.
Then it was time to take out the trash.
Chapter Four
The long flight to the Middle East was a pain in the ass, but Ryland was used to it. They all were and no one minded it too much. It was just something they’d all come to expect. A part of the job. The one thing he couldn’t get used to was the climate. It was June which put the Persian Gulf city squarely on the same latitude as the devil’s doorstep. They might have the same sunny blue skies as San Diego, but the extreme heat and humidity made Ryland’s hair start to wave the second he stepped off the plane.
Already sweating, he swiped a hand across his forehead and glanced up at the unforgiving sun. The capital city of the United Arab Emirates might be luxurious, but they could have it. It was just after noon and the unbearable heat beat down with relentless force. It was the kind of oppressive heat that made you sweat in places you didn’t even know you could sweat, and ratcheted up your core temp until your blood felt like it was boiling.
Climbing into their two waiting SUVs, the complaints immediately started.
“Fucking hot armpit of a country,” Ryland growled.
“Hey, look at the bright side. At least we’re not crawling around on some goddamn mountain or searching caves,” Tanner commented.
Ryland looked over at his friend who’d barely broken a sweat. As usual, he looked like a half-frozen Norse Viking with his frosty blue eyes. “How is it that my balls are sweating and you look cool as a cucumber?”
Tanner chuckled. “The heat agrees with me.”
“You can fucking have it,” Saint grumbled, grumpy as always, sweat rolling down his temples. He hadn’t had a cigarette in hours and that only contributed to his foul mood.
At least Ryland wasn’t the only one feeling like a half-cooked turkey. He wished he were up to his chin in an ice bath.
“At least you don’t have to deal with boob sweat,” Bruja grumbled as she adjusted her bra.
