Chapter 1
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Sam had his NVG monocularflipped out of the way so he could see everything in natural colors as he died.
He kept waiting for this old-as-hell helicopter carrying his HAMR Brotherhood FALCA team to sputter and crash into the waves below. An early evening storm pounded the fuselage as if the chopper needed help nosediving.
An August to remember.
Thick foam rolling along the Venezuelan coast would be a stunning photograph for tourists.
The only sight he cared about capturing was W in cuffs and leg irons. Few international terrorists had eluded security forces and military in every country the way W had for five years.
Sam would never forget the bloody images of citizens, especially children, killed in the attacks. In his mind, he still saw the eyes wide open and body parts missing. One teenage girl who had looked so much like Sam’s sister kept visiting his nightmares with her half-blown-away skull and eyes wide open in fear.
Had his sister looked as terrified when she’d died?
Bile ran up Sam’s throat. He forced his mind back to the here and now. Stick to the mission.
He couldn’t screw up on this one, not after the last mission where he’d made a misstep. Logan, leader of all HAMR Brotherhood teams, understood what his men faced, but he expected everyone to stick to their duty and keep the team strong.
Sam still felt justified over rushing through enemy fire to save a woman being dragged away. Sam freed her and handed her off to another woman then rejoined the team.
Nitro had chewed him into pieces. Yes, Sam had no one to cover his six for those seconds, and yes, she could have been hiding a weapon, but he’d seen true terror in her face and had a plan to return safely.
The fact that his plan had worked failed to spare him from Nitro’s wrath.
Sam would do the mission tonight by the book no matter what crossed his field of vision.
No one wanted to lose a spot in HAMR Brotherhood, and Sam lived for operations with his FALCA team.
His seat dropped suddenly in an air pocket. Muscles in Sam’s gut clenched even though it was only inches.
Having spent an hour helping the forty-something pilot get this bucket-of-crap-parts running, Sam had up-close knowledge of the flying death trap.
He didn’t mind flying at night and low to the ground. That was perfect for a stealth approach when he had faith in his ride.
Nothing fazed Pablo, their intrepid pilot, not even lightning streaking across the sky and rain hammering so loud Sam should be deaf by now. Sadly, he wasn’t. Was Pablo even the pilot’s real name? Thick, curly hair sprang out in every direction. He wore flip-flops and one of those Hawaiian-print shirts with a string of seashells around his neck as bright against his deep tan as the white around his dark eyes.
Didn’t matter what he looked like so long as his reputation as a former hotshot Army pilot held up.
The team medic, Blade, sat in the co-pilot’s seat, but he couldn’t fly this thing if Pablo fell out the opening on his left. As the largest of their four, Blade had to ride shotgun. If not, somebody would have been hanging off the side of Pablo’s OH-6A chopper, a Vietnam-era relic like the one his revered Army colonel father had flown.
The LOACH, which pilots and crews had nicknamed this chopper, had the exact attributes needed for tonight’s mission. It had flown in low, fast, and quiet to flush out the enemy during the Vietnam conflict. When the speedy little helo took on enemy fire, a larger, noisier, and deadlier Cobra AH-1 hanging back on their ass would sweep in and break up the party.
But that had been sixty freaking years ago.
“You enjoyin’ the ride, Partyman?” Nitro asked, his voice coming through Sam’s headset. The leader of their FALCA team found most things amusing until show time. Right now, his eyes gleamed with amusement as if they were on the way to a bar.
That would be the day. For Sam to go barhopping would surprise all of them.
Sitting between the two of them, Angel’s lips curled, but the Spaniard stayed out of this.
Positioned behind the pilot and with an open door on his left, Nitro was not one to show any concern. Always cool on the outside. Of course, Nitro would find flying in this rattling bucket of bolts funny if Sam gave the least indication it got under his skin.
Not happening.
Sam wanted no one on this team to question his commitment at any time, but especially tonight. He would nail his part without bitching. He grinned at his leader.
