Chapter 1
Navarresteppedintotheautomated shuttle that ferried passengers from the gates to the terminals at Orlando International Airport.After four and a half hours in a flying tin can with nonexistent legroom, it felt pretty damn good to stretch his legs.He grabbed hold of one of the shiny metal poles that was anchored between the floor and the ceiling as a sea of travel-weary passengers brushed past and claimed their spots inside.
Beside him, Wade dumped his bag on the floor and reached for one of the straps hanging from the ceiling.Rosario trailed in the wake he created and gripped the strap beside his.Nobody talked; there wasn’t much point.It had been a long weekend, they’d accomplished what they’d set out to do, and now they just wanted to go home.
Passengers continued to pile in until there was barely enough room to breathe.At last, the glass automatic doors closed with a whoosh, and as the shuttle began to move, the mayor’s voice came over the speakers to welcome them to Orlando.
With the exception of one howling child, and that guy in the row ahead of him who reeked of Axe body spray, the flight had been uneventful.No delays, or turbulence, or any of that shit—just a straight shot from Salt Lake City to Orlando.And with Wade and Rosario seated in the same row, he hadn’t had to worry about some random knucklehead trying to strike up a conversation.
Not that it happened often.He wasn’t the type to stand out in a crowd.At five ten, he was slightly taller than average, with sandy-brown hair and plain brown eyes that never stopped scanning their surroundings.His jeans, T-shirt, and athletic shoes wouldn’t draw an ounce of attention.Regardless of where he was or who he was with, Navarre took great pains to blend in with his environment, to appear unassuming and bland, so nobody noticed or paid attention.
Such was the life of a sniper.
Wade, on the other hand, would never blend in, not with the jagged, cross-shaped scar that marred one side of his face.Being built like a bouncer didn’t help.
A little boy no older than five stared up at him with eyes wider than saucers.“What happened to your face?”
“Michael, be quiet!”his mother hissed, and then added a quick “Sorry” to Wade.
“It’s okay.I get that a lot.”Wade stared down at the boy.“A very bad man did this to me, but I made sure he’ll never do it to anyone again.”
At the terminal, the doors slid open, and the woman dragged her child away as if the shuttle had burst into flames.
Navarre waited for the horde of passengers to exit before picking up his bag.He’d never been much for crowds—just one of the reasons he enjoyed his job—and after spending a good chunk of the day traveling, he was looking forward to some quiet time at home.First off, he wanted to take a long shower, and then he wanted a home-cooked meal, a cold beer, and a solid chunk of uninterrupted time to playDemon Scourge 2.He was coming up on the second boss battle, and he couldn’t wait to dive in.
He and his teammates strode through the hall connecting to the terminal, and his gaze locked onto his buddy Jackson, standing near one of those shops that sold souvenirs to the tourists heading back home.Big, black, heavily tattooed, and roughly the size of a Howitzer, he was kind of hard to miss.He stood motionless; his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, while the crush of humanity moved around him like a river flowed around a rock.
At the sight of Navarre, a huge grin split his face, and he made a beeline toward them.
“Good to see you, man.”In true Jackson form, he pulled Navarre in for a big bear hug that probably cracked a few ribs, followed by a pair of thumps to the back that made his teeth rattle.“Not that I really need to ask, but how did y’all do?”
“The competition was stiff, but Rosario dragged us over the line.”
It was the third year that Navarre had represented Six Points Security in the Rocky Mountain Tactical Shooting Tournament, an event open to military, law enforcement, and private security organizations.This year, fifty-two teams had participated in the grueling two-day competition.In addition to marksmanship, it tested various skills such as navigation, reconnaissance, target identification, and, if necessary, though it wasn’t for them, combat field care.With so many elite teams from across the country competing, Navarre hadn’t been sure how well they’d fare, especially after Austin, the usual third person on the team, had been forced to bow out at the last minute.But in the end, Rosario had risen to the challenge, and they’d successfully defended their title.
“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it.”Rosario hitched the strap of her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder.She was a statuesque woman, athletic and lean, with long, black hair that she tended to wear in a braid trailing halfway down her back.“No one could touch us, not even close, because we had two ringers on the team.”
Wade grunted.“You held your own, kid.Another year or two, you’ll be giving us a run for the money.”
The praise brought a smile to her face.Navarre had learned a few things about Rosario over the course of the weekend.One, she handled pressure like a pro; with experience, she’d get even better.She also had a competitive streak that was at least a mile wide.But she wasn’t accustomed to receiving praise.If anything, it seemed to embarrass her.He’d mentioned it to Wade, who agreed with the assessment and said he’d work with Austin to bolster her confidence.
“Did anything exciting happen while we were gone?”Navarre asked Jackson as they skipped the crowded escalator in favor of the stairs to baggage claim.
It couldn’t have been all that much.They were out of town for only a few days.Still, shit had a way of happening at the most unexpected and inopportune times, and he hated the thought of missing out on anything good.
“Nate taught Luther how to drive a stick,” Jackson said as they reached the level for baggage claim.
Rosario huffed out a laugh.“Does his car still have a transmission?”
“He didn’t use his car.He used one of the company trucks.”
Wade swore—not surprising, considering how much work he put into those trucks to keep them in prime operating condition.
“I gotta give Nate credit, though,” Jackson continued.“By the time he was finished, Luther was shifting like a pro.”
They followed the signs to the area designated for their flight, where Wade’s fiancée, Dr.Hope Chandler, and Jackson’s wife, Essie, were camped out in front of the baggage carousel.At the sight of Wade, a smile lit Hope’s face, and she quickly closed the distance between them and launched herself into his arms.
“Welcome home,” Essie said as Jackson slid one arm around her waist.She was also an expert at blending in, a skill she’d developed as a covert operative.
