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A truck rumbled by—a beer truck—and Aubrey smiled. That settled it. She would walk down to the cantina and have acerveza.
Why the hell not?
???
The plane’s cabin was dim and the window shades were all pulled down as the team rested before their op. The flight to Colombia was the longest seven hours, sixteen minutes of Gray’s life. He tried to distract himself, but the memories from his doomed trip down there echoed through his skull like a headhunter’s drum, getting closer and closer. And his scar itched like a bitch.
Gray tried to suppress the memories, especially now when he was on the verge of walking back into his living nightmare. They reared their ugly heads anyway. He stubbornly sank back in his seat, crossed his big arms and refused to give in to them. Once Gray made up his mind, he was a determined motherfucker. And he had decided he would make it through this op and not crumple like an accordion in front of his new team.
The plan was to finish a job that went south a few weeks ago. The team had gone to Abu Dhabi to take down Yusuf Bashar, a known arms dealer, but it turned into a clusterfuck and one of their own, Tanner “Mayhem” Stiles, had been killed. Now Gray was the new guy and, from what he’d learned about Tanner, he had some big shoes to fill.
But the twist that Gray never saw coming was the second person they planned to take out. Alvaro “El Escorpión” Mesa. The powerful cartel leader who had been responsible for issuing the order to his guerilla soldiers to kill Gray’s former SEAL team. A fact he later found out during his debriefing.
Now, Gray felt like he was given a second chance at redemption. One he desperately needed. Not only would he be able to assist his new team in their mission, he would finally be able to avenge his brothers. Revenge was their highest priority. His, too. Two birds with one stone. As long as he kept his shit together.
Closing his eyes, Gray focused on his breathing like the Navy shrink had taught him. In and out. Slow and steady. He had a goal, a purpose once again, and he wasn’t going to blow it. Fuck his PTSD.
Just get the job done.
Gray squeezed his sweaty hands into fists and forced his mind to focus on the present. He liked his new team. They were an interesting assortment of characters and everyone seemed to possess different strengths, which balanced them out well. Their base of operations in Playa del Oro consisted of a cluster of bungalows on the beach hidden below the rugged, winding Pacific Coast Highway. The PCH stretched between Los Angeles and San Francisco with the ocean on one side and mountains on the other. At some points the road turned windy and treacherous, but the beauty of it was breathtaking. The isolation was perfect, too, and would provide the cover and privacy they needed since they had all been officially declared dead after their plane crashed.
It was a ballsy move, faking their deaths in order to take down The Agency. And Gray liked it. These were his kind of people and he needed this type of danger and excitement in his life. It provided a distraction from his guilt and gave him something to focus on. Not to mention, he was damn good at this type of shit. Right now, they had the upper hand and The Agency had no idea what they were up against.
Because the God’s honest truth was Gray had nothing left to lose.
And that made him a very dangerous man. The kind who didn’t fear death.
Chapter Three
The team went over the key points of their plan one last time before they jumped out of the plane to ambush Yusuf Bashar and the leader of the cartel he was selling weapons to—Alvaro “El Escorpión” Mesa.
Gray couldn’t even think that monster’s name without tasting bile in the back of his throat. Alvaro Mesa led the CDE or Clan del Escorpión. He was a power-hungry, money-grubbing murderer who would sell drugs to his own mother to make a buck.
Leaning forward, Gray listened closely as Braxton asked if anyone had any last-minute questions. Nobody did. The team was a well-oiled machine that oozed confidence. Zane passed out their ear comms and Gray slid his into place then did a quick check. Everything was a go.
The only thing left to do was jump, hump through the jungle, and ambush Mesa, Bashar and crew.Bring it the fuck on.Gray was ready to jump in with both feet and destroy the man who’d fractured his entire fucking world and killed his brothers.
The last year had been uneventful and so damn depressing. He’d never felt so lost and useless. But now, he had a goal again. Revenge was at his fingertips and he was part of a new crew who had his back. This was what he lived for. Maybe getting back into what he did best—taking out the bad guys—would be the very thing Gray needed to help him heal.
He sure as hell hoped so.
After checking his parachute, Gray slid the pack over his broad shoulders, stepped into the harness and buckled himself in, double-checking all the connections before making his way to the door Braxton had just opened.
A hot wind whipped through the cabin and Gray clutched his pack tightly. He never minded jumping out of planes. Actually enjoyed the rush that came with it. The sense of free falling then snapping upright and sailing down to Earth, wrapped in silence, was a high unduplicated by anything else.
“Ready?” Braxton asked, and everyone nodded, lining up.
Pulling in a deep breath, Gray looked over to where Zane sat, two different laptops open in front of him. His friend was staring at him, no doubt with concern, and Gray gave an almost imperceptible nod to his unspoken question.
Yeah, I’m fine. No breakdown on the horizon.
At least I hope not.
“Take good care of my girl,” Zane told Inda.
She rolled her eyes. “Your drone is safe with me.”
“Alright, let’s go.” Braxton stepped aside and Ryland jumped first, closely followed by Inda. Saint swore under his breath, made a quick sign of the cross, then took a leap. Gray wouldn’t be surprised if the guy lit up a cigarette and smoked it down to the filter before his boots touched the ground.
