Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“TOC, this is Ambra One, do you copy?” Zenko tried comms again.
He and Noble had calculated the time from their best estimate of when they lost communication with tactical command until now.
If something had gone wrong, then their team should be at the fallback location already.
Why the fuck was comms not working yet? He tramped down on the roiling unease in his stomach and repeated his request. “TOC, this is Ambra One, do you copy?”
Looking across the small clearing they had settled in after humping about five klicks further into Syria, Zenko watched as Noble turned Roman’s chin to inspect a cut on his face.
“You are damn lucky that it was a piece of flying bark and not a bullet, but you are pretty enough that scar won’t matter,” Noble told Roman as he swiftly stitched up the gash.
Zenko snorted back a laugh when Noble pulled a Band-Aid out of his pack and slapped it over Roman’s stitches.
“Aww, the boss thinks you are pretty enough, Ro.” Saxon’s soft teasing made Zenko almost smile.
“What Band-Aid did you give him this time, Boss?” Zenko reached for his comms again, but Noble stopped him before he could make another attempt.
“Hello Kitty,” Noble snorted out, ignoring Roman’s curses. “Give it another hour and then try TOC again.”
Zenko nodded his agreement and turned his attention to the surrounding landscape. Fuck this shit. Was this connected to Shaun, and had Max somehow tripped something in his search for answers?
“Hello Kitty?” Roman ignored the swatting of Noble’s hands and went to pull off the cartoon Band-Aid. “Seriously, do I look like a cat person to you?”
“You take that off, and you’ll find yourself wearing a Little Mermaid instead.”
Zenko bit back a grin at Noble giving Roman shit. Damn, it was good to be back in the field with Noble, even if it was a clusterfuck and someone had tried to blow their asses to somewhere close to the Pearly Gates. He inwardly shrugged. SNAFU for them. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.
A couple of minutes later, Noble took a position to the left of Zenko. “What do you think?”
Zenko tilted his head toward Noble to show him he was listening while still keeping his focus on their surroundings.
“I think someone really didn’t want us finding those weapons. That Chinook came under US orders, official or not.”
“Agreed.”
“So, what do we do?” Zenko glanced at Noble before turning back to once again take note of every blade of grass and the location of each rock.
If anything had moved, it could indicate they had someone on their ass.
Their choices then were to stand and fight here at this less-than-secure location or try for higher ground with a rock face at their backs. “Possible movement.”
That fucking rock twitched. Didn’t it?
He scanned again with his scope, adjusting it to give him the best view possible while recalling where each rock had been five minutes ago.
“Confirmed movement, second quadrant, first sector. That medium-sized rock has moved at least three feet since I sectioned out the area.”
Zenko could see Noble scanning the location, too. When Noble lifted his weapon to his shoulder and took a shot, a puff of dust rose in front of a different rock. Shit, had he missed something?
“What the fuck, Boss?”
“That one is moving, too.”
“Okay,” Zenko muttered. “But you missed.”
“Nope.” Noble shrugged his huge shoulders. “Just letting him know I can see his stupid-ass boot lace sticking out between the blades of grass.”
“Boot lace?” Zenko really hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it did. “You think the Cavalry has arrived?”
“Not sure.” Noble’s hands were busy checking his weapons.
His distracted manner told Zenko he was weighing the odds of standing and fighting here or moving to a more secure location.
“It’s either someone coming to rescue our asses or take them out.
We just need to figure out which it is before we take a kill shot. ”
“Roger that,” all three answered Noble as though he had issued an order rather than made an observation, but having worked together for so long, Zenko knew his commander didn’t need to make it an order, even if Noble didn’t often lead missions these days.
Zenko studied the area in front of them and risked a glance at Noble. “You still think they are not a death squad of some sort?”
“No.” Noble jerked his chin toward the moving rocks. “Those rocks are moving again. Give them something to think about, but wait and see if we need to take them out.”
“Your gut talking?” Zenko aimed at the rock he had been surveying and determined it hadn’t moved.
His lips curved into a grin when he realized the one next to it had.
Bringing the scope on his weapon in line with his eye, he aimed at a barely visible granite stone situated just to the right of the miraculously moving rocks and gently squeezed the trigger.
“Take that, fucker,” Zenko muttered as he watched the rock splinter and spray the hidden man with slivers that were sure to feel like mini needles digging into his skin.
If these were friendlies, maybe Noble would get to use his Little Mermaid Band-Aids after all.
He glanced at Noble and repeated the question. “Boss, is your gut talking?”
“Yeah.” Noble’s chin tilted to the side as he considered the situation.
Having worked with him for years, Zenko knew that look.
The answer was right there, and whatever Noble was trying to put his finger on was driving him batshit.
Zenko raised both eyebrows in surprise when Noble’s eyes widened and his hand suddenly went up.
“Ceasefire.”
Their team immediately stopped taking practice shots at the rocks.
“Rock, get your fucking ass out of the grass and quit being a dumbass. Your poppa taught us better than that.”
“Took you fucking long enough, Noble.” A huge muscular man in black combat gear rose out of the grass near a tree.
Zenko counted five other men as they, too, rose to join the one Noble had called Rock.
His brain kicked into gear, scrolling through faces buried in his memory until he finally recognized the man as Garrett Rockwell.
He also recognized the one with long hair as former Delta Force Operator Griffin St. Clare.
The others were unknowns. He and Noble had helped Rock and Grif recover a kidnapped reporter from a sticky situation in The Lebanon a good few years ago.
Zenko’s snort sounded loud in the silence of the forest. He folded his lips together, trying to stop himself from laughing.
“What the fuck are you cackling at, Zenko?” Rock grumbled as he and his men joined them, proving Zenko had done a piss-poor job of suppressing his laughter.
“You’ve been shacked up with one of my men, and he sent me out here to retrieve your ass from whatever clusterfuck you and your boss here have managed to get yourselves into this time.
” Rock turned to Noble and slapped him on the back. “Good to see you, brother.”
Zenko’s mind swirled. He reached back and braced himself against a tree trunk, hoping nobody noticed he kinda needed something to prop him up for a second while he took in the bombshell Rock had dropped without even knowing it.
What the actual fuck?
Shaun is an operator?
What fucking team is this?
He hadn’t even known Rock was still alive. If Noble already knew about Shaun, Zenko was going to fucking blast him with pink and purple paint and add a bucket of glitter just for shits and giggles.
“Shaun is an operator?” He looked to the man he knew as Griffin for confirmation.
“What team?” He watched Griffin turn to Rock and frowned at the silent communication between them.
He was going to kick Shaun’s ass. He didn’t need these guys to confirm it because his gut already had.
It explained the fast reflexes in his sleep and the way Shaun’s hands moved unconsciously when he spoke, as if adding hand signals.
Yup, no doubt about it, Shaun was getting his ass kicked for hiding shit.
“Shaun is one of ours.”
Griffin’s voice near his ear confirmed his suspicions. Zenko turned to look at him. The man was still built like a brick shithouse. Tall and muscular, although with his long hair rather than the close-cropped locks of the army, these days he looked more like a biker than a Delta Force Operator.
“One of your what?” He could see Noble and Rock in deep conversation. Shit, it looked like they not only remembered each other, but from the way Noble had called Rock out of his stealthy approach, they knew each other from a previous life before the military.
Fuckers.
“Our team.” Griffin looked at Zenko as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.
“Shaun is Delta?”
“Nope.” Griffin’s hair blew in the breeze, and he blew it out of the corner of his mouth, sending it back over his shoulder and away from his face.
“I haven’t been Delta for more than a few years.
I am kinda officially on loan to this team.
Rock leads, I follow, and you can guarantee that Shar isn’t far behind. ”
Zenko’s mind twisted over the information Griffin had given him.
The only logical explanation he could come up with was that Rock, Griffin, and the reporter he had helped them pull out of The Lebanon all those years ago were a triad or something similar.
If Griffin wasn’t an official member of the team, that meant Rock was.
“Okay.” Zenko dragged out the word. “And Delta?”
“You’ve heard of Jonah Montgomery?”
“Country music’s singing soldier that took out a sniper a few months back?” Zenko tried to figure out where this was going, but his brain refused to connect the dots. It was still stuck on Shaun being an operator.