Fighting for Adalyn (Redemption Harbor Security Book 3)

Chapter 1

Before Adalyn ducked into the GP tent, glad to be out of the hundred-and-twenty-plus heat in this sub-Saharan location, saw the others were already there.

Including Rowan.

He glanced over, nodded at her, his expression serious as she approached. In their downtime, he was basically Santa Claus, all jovial and over-the-top ridiculous. But not when it was mission time. To be fair, he didn’t look like Santa Claus—unless the mythical man was built like a barn door, had tattoos everywhere, with hair that looked brown but in the bright sunlight was actually a very dark auburn. And his eyes were that same rich dark, but with flecks of gold. Not that she was making a list of his physical attributes or anything.

Three others were in the tent, the commander and two intel analysts, all monitoring the screens as Rowan’s team entered the cave system.

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she watched the infrared feed. It was only noon, but it was dark where the team was headed.

“Any other word from Ali?” Rowan murmured, not looking away from the screen.

Bes Ali was an Egyptian gunrunner she’d been working with for the last two years. He’d been a valuable asset to the Company and the single person they had on the periphery of a radical religious terrorist group the CIA was desperately trying to dismantle. Their continuing existence was proving to be a threat to the stability in the Middle East.

“Your guys are good to go. Only a two-man team guarding the rockets.”

Rowan nodded, then spoke into his comm. Under normal circumstances, he would have been on this job but he’d broken his ankle. Not that he was keeping it elevated or staying off it. She was tempted to grab a chair for him, but knew better.

In sand-colored camo fatigues, covered in layers of dust and grime, he looked every inch the warrior she knew him to be even with all the dust. Or maybe that added to it.

The never-ending sand here crept into everything. She’d showered two hours ago, but after the walk to the private tent, was once again lightly coated in grit. Might as well be embedded in her skin at this point.

The grime didn’t take away from Rowan’s presence—she didn’t think anything could. He’d been born for this kind of shit, she imagined. Thanks to the relaxed grooming standards for the military in this region—because the risk of staph infection in such a dusty, dirty environs was high—he was allowed to keep a beard. Almost every man here had one.

“How’s the leg?” she murmured as they watched the lead camera move. Curtis Miller was running point on this job, was a pro.

Rowan grunted.

“As a medic, you know you should be sitting down right now.” Okay, apparently she couldn’t hold back. She shot him a sideways glance.

His lips pulled into a thin line, but he didn’t look at her.

“Fine, fine. I talked to Hailey about an hour ago,” she continued, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist responding. Where Rowan was the medic for his team, up until recently Hailey had been in intelligence. And was one of the nicest humans Adalyn had ever known. Not to mention, it had been nice to have a woman to talk to while here. To just shoot the shit with and not have to be on guard all the time. When Adalyn was embedded with various teams in country, it was always a crapshoot with what kind of people she’d end up with.

“Yeah, I got an email from her. Sounds like she’s doing well.” There was more warmth in his voice now, even though he didn’t look away from the screens.

“I hope so. She mentioned bringing me in with her, asked if I’d ever consider going private.”

Now that got his attention. He glanced over, his dark, amber-flecked eyes surprised. “Yeah? So?”

She shrugged. She wasn’t going anywhere right now. “No plans to make a change but it’s nice to be asked to the dance.”

He snorted, half smiling before he glanced back at the screen when one of the men started shouting.

“Move back, move back—” A blast of light covered the screen before it completely blacked out.

“What’s going on?” Rowan hobbled over to the panel of screens as the commander shouted into his comms.

But Adalyn knew. Oh, she knew and she was going to be sick. It had been a trap. Because that had been an explosion.

“What the hell is going on!” he shouted again.

“Hold on, pulling up satellite images… Oh.” The intel officer went quiet as a ball of flames erupted from the side of the mountainous terrain below. Another blast quickly followed, the silence of it deafening.

It seemed to magnify the horror, the loss of life, in quiet detail on-screen.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket but she ignored it as she stepped forward, everything funneling around her until all she could see was him. “Rowan—”

He swiveled on her, his expression dark. “You provided the intel for this op. You sent them into that cave system. They wouldn’t be there if not for you. This is on you,” he growled before stalking away, slapping the tent door open in his exit.

The words punched right into her, even if she didn’t blame him. His people had just died right in front of him. He was angry, grieving and… Oh god, her phone was buzzing again. Her boss.

“What just happened?” she snarled as she answered.

“We have a problem.”