Chapter 24 #2
They fell into formation with Talon and Zombie ranging out in front of them, making sure their route was clear. Operation Buttercup was a go.
* * *
“Grizzly, Lego.” Even though he had only addressed him, Talon’s voice on comms stopped them all in their tracks and they crouched down, making themselves a smaller target.
“Go ahead, Lego.”
“Zombie is alerting, but I can’t see anything, even with NVGs.”
“Fuck.” He thumbed on comms, making sure to turn down the volume to its lowest setting.
“Zipper, Grizzly, have you got eyes ahead of our location?” As Remi was patched into comms, he figured his brother was already working on it and knew why Talon and Zombie had stopped their progress.
Sometimes the dog was a pain in the ass, but other times like this he was potentially saving their asses, so Gunnar could more than deal with his moods at home.
“Grizzly, Zipper, stand by. Let me see if I can get something in position, stat.” In other words, Remi was going to see if he could shuffle a satellite.
Gunnar cocked his head to one side, waiting, watching, and listening.
But he got nothing but the sounds of the mountain.
Whatever was out there was something the local wildlife were used to.
The animals were still scurrying about and the insects still chirping.
Could a man stay that quiet for long enough that the animals didn’t see him as a threat?
Yes, yes, he could. Snipers did it all the time.
He motioned to his team, and they melted into the bushes.
Not that it would do them much good if that sniper had thermal on his scope.
“Grizzly, Zipper.”
“Go ahead, Zipper.”
“I can’t see anything on the device, which is in the area. But the tech isn’t great, so I can’t verify if you have something ahead.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much.”
He had a good idea of what the answer would be, but he asked the question anyway. “Recommendations?”
“Divert via insertion point two,” Remi said immediately.
Just as I thought. Damn it.
Gunnar pulled up the map on his wrist device and dropped a pin in his location.
From there, Remi would send him back the route he recommended.
Thirty seconds later, Gunnar blew out a silent frustrated breath.
Just fuck it all to hell in a balloon. The last thing he wanted to do was to skirt around by at least five klicks, if not more.
“Zipper, Grizzly, you have any alternative options?”
“Straight down the wire and maybe get your head blown off,” Remi replied. “Which based on the bitching from the chair behind me is not an acceptable option.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gunnar grinned. Jorja wanted to keep him in one piece. He freaking loved that. Way too often, the woman in his life had been the one who wanted him dead. “Roger that, Zipper. Alternate route it is.”
“Copy.”
Gunnar liked that Remi didn’t waste words. He’d be busy making sure everyone’s maps were updated to the route he thought they should take. Once that was complete, Gunnar knew he’d take another look at the route they had been on to see if anything popped up that they needed to be aware of.
There was something about this place. Not just the country, but this mountain range which was the source of some of his worst nightmares and some of his biggest triumphs, which unsettled him.
Gunnar shook it off; now was not the time.
His only focus needed to be getting the hostages back and getting them and his men to safety.
Talon and Zombie once again took point with Gunnar not far behind them as they diverted off to the northwest.
“I think Zipper just wants to see the sights through our body cams,” Colt muttered softly. He took the arm Gunnar offered and hauled himself up over the rocks blocking their way. “Easy ruck, my left nut.”
“Right?” he grumbled and stepped back, allowing Colt room to move. “I’m kicking his ass the second my boots hit the front door.”
“I’ll hold him for you,” Marco agreed softly as they slid into formation and kept moving forward.
Gunnar felt the burn across the side of his hip just under his vest before he heard the retort of the gunfire.
“Ouch, fuck.” He’d managed ten freaking years in special ops without a fucking scratch from a mission.
Here he was in Black Ops as a damn contractor, and his last two missions, he’d earned lead.
If someone up there was telling him to retire, could they just stop it already?
It was way too freaking early to pull the plug.
He ducked and rolled into cover, knowing the rest of his team were doing the same thing, covering their asses until they could figure out where that fucker was shooting from.
“You good, Griz?” Tyrone sprinted across the open ground, exposing himself to enemy fire and kicking up dust as he landed next to him.
“Pissed, and I have another fucking ouch, but I’ll live.
” Gunnar pulled his hand away from the spot and showed him there was no blood on his fingers.
He tapped comms. “Someone find me where that bastard is, stat.” All around him bullets pinged off the rocks.
Whoever the sniper was, he’d picked a good spot to pin him down.
“Got him,” Marco said. “Permission to pop this cazzone in the ass?”
“Granted.” Like he was going to say no.
Almost immediately to his left he heard the distinctive sound of Marco’s Heckler and Kock fire. Then silence spread around them as they waited to see if the sniper fired again. “Got him, Boss.”
“Copy that.”
“Remain in place, Grizzly,” Talon ordered. “Zombie is going in.”
“Good thinking, Lego,” he replied. “Waiting on your word.”
“Copy.”
“Let me see that wound.”
“I’m fine, it just took a few pubes off me.” Even though he grumbled, Gunnar still shifted his vest to show Tyrone his side. “Slap a bit of duct tape on it. I’ll deal with it later.”
“Grizzly, Lego, tango confirmed KIA,” Talon said. “Zombie’s body language says we’re clear for now.”
Thank fuck.
“Roger that, Lego. On my way.” He smacked at Tyrone’s hands and got to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Two seconds to slap this on you,” Tyrone ordered, “or I swear I’m telling your woman when we get back that you were a fucking dumbass.
” He ripped open a gauze strip, folded it into the center of a piece of duct tape, squeezed some ointment in a line along the gauze, and pressed it over the wound.
“There. I even gave you duct tape, just like you asked for. Good luck getting that off without feeling like your balls are getting hot-waxed.”
“Asshole.”
“Pretty much.” Tyrone stuffed the tape and gauze back into his med kit and followed him out of cover. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“I’m paying you?” Gunnar widened his eyes and glared at his medic. “Are you shittin’ me?”
“Yup. I even got a pretty contract and all.”
This was how they dealt with a close call. Tyrone’s snark more than anything telling him the wound he couldn’t see under his armor wasn’t much more than a scratch. They scrambled up the rocks to where Talon and Zombie waited for them.
“Back there, Grizz.” Talon pointed over his shoulder.
Gunnar nodded and stepped around him. He winced when he spotted the man Marco had taken out. “Zipper, this is Grizzly, how copy?”
“Grizzly, Zipper, go ahead.”
“I’m sending you a photo. Do not let my woman see it.”
“Hah, I knew it,” Remi teased. “She’s in the john. Send it.”
Gunnar turned his body camera on what remained of the asshole’s face.
“ID that bastard, and tell me where I’m hunting.
” He rubbed at the duct tape Tyrone had covered his wound with.
It would hurt like a motherfucker pulling that off later, but better than having an infection to deal with.
Turning to Levi, he jerked his thumb in the tango’s direction.
“Nemo, do a full kit on him. Someone somewhere knows who he is. I…” he jabbed at his chest, “I want to know if he’s connected to that fucking list.”
“Roger that, Sir.” Levi swung his ruck around, pulled out his DNA kit, and got to work.
“Grizzly, Zipper.”
“Go ahead, Zipper. Tell me you know who the asshole is?”
“Now you know it doesn’t work like it does in the movies.” Remi snorted. “I’m running him through the databases. Are you clear to move?”
He checked on Levi’s progress. “Ready to move in five.”
“Roger. Check in through the usual protocols.” In other words, Remi was going to search somewhere he probably shouldn’t have access to.
Thank fuck he’s on our side, or the good side of the line would be so screwed.
“Affirmative.” Gunnar checked his guys, nodded, and gave the order, “Move out.”