Maurice (Bayou Brotherhood Protectors #9)

Prologue

Four years ago...

Afghanistan

“Hey, Mo,” Bryce Collins’s voice sounded in Navy SEAL Maurice Boucher’s ear. “Did you ask her?”

“And?” Collins prompted.

“And we’re in the middle of a mission,” Maurice reminded him.

“Was it yes or no?” Rusty jumped into the conversation.

“You’re supposed to have Scott’s six,” Maurice stalled.

“I’ve got Scott,” Rusty assured him. “Did you get the girl?”

Maurice focused his night-vision goggles on the green silhouette of Perez and the shadows ahead of the man. “She said yes.”

“Well, damn,” Collins whispered. “Another hot medic taken out of the dating pool.”

“We’re not dating,” Maurice said. “You know it’s strictly forbidden in theater.”

“Fraternization...blah...blah...blah,” Rusty said. “Like it doesn’t happen.”

“Don’t know why she chose you when she could’ve had me,” Jason Tingle said.

“It’s probably his Cajun accent,” Collins said. “Girls like an accent.”

“I got an accent,” Ray Scott said. “She didn’t pick me.”

“She couldn’t understand you,” Rusty said. “What exactly are you saying when you say you ‘Pawk ya caw’?”

“Better than what all you Texans are constantly spewing,” Scott fired back. “It’s not even a word.”

“And pawk is?” Rusty countered.

“Bogey on the rooftop, my two o’clock,” Perez reported.

All chitchat ceased as the SEAL team moved into the small Afghan village. Intel had it that a Taliban held two US Army soldiers in a building near the center of town. The two men were the sole survivors of a supply convoy that had hit an IED en route to a forward operating base.

The SEAL team’s mission was to find the building, extract the soldiers and take out as many Taliban as possible.

They’d split up, entering the village from different directions, moving in simultaneously. The idea was to get in and out as quietly as possible to avoid waking villagers, thus minimizing chaos and collateral damage.

Perez waved Maurice forward while he pointed his rifle ahead.

Maurice joined Perez at the corner of the building and stared up at the rooftop.

A dark silhouette of a man’s head and shoulders appeared. As he turned, Maurice saw that the man carried a rifle.

“Take him,” Maurice said.

Perez aimed his rifle at the Taliban soldier on the rooftop.

A soft thump sounded, and the man on the roof collapsed in place.

“One bogey down,” Maurice murmured into his mic. “Might be more.”

“Go,” Perez said and covered Maurice as he moved forward.

“We have the target building in view,” Scott said.

Maurice reached the end of a squat house and peered around the corner. A larger structure backed up to a hillside. Two men dressed in black leaned against the wall on either side of the door, holding rifles in their hands.

Perez slipped up behind Maurice.

Collins’ voice sounded in Maurice’s ear. “Tingle and I are in place, with the rear of the building in sight. It’s built into the hill. No one’s coming out the back unless they have tunnels exiting somewhere else. Heading your way to cover.”

“Scott, take the guy on the right,” Maurice said. “I got the left on three.” Maurice raised his goggles, fitted his rifle against his shoulder and sighted in on the Taliban soldier. He spoke softly, “One...two...” As he said the word “three,” he squeezed the trigger.

The two guards slumped and slid to the ground, their rifles clattering against the hard-packed dirt.

The team moved in.

Collins and Tingle positioned themselves on the corners of the building to provide cover on the outside while Maurice, Perez, Scott and Rusty entered.

Maurice took point.

They cleared one room at a time, finding boxes, crates and trash. No humans.

A door at the end of the hall opened into a tunnel that burrowed into the side of the hill.

Before stepping through the doorway, Maurice spoke into his mic. “Going into a tunnel. Will lose contact with Collins and Tingle.”

“We’ve got your back,” Collins said.

More worried that no one had their backs, Maurice said, “If shit gets real out there, join us inside. The building is clear. Our targets must be in the cave.”

“Roger,” Collins responded.

Wire ran the length of the tunnel, with an occasional yellow light bulb dangling along the way.

Thirty feet in, the tunnel curved sharply to the left.

Maurice slowed and held up his fist.

The men following him stopped, guns ready.

Maurice eased around the turn to find the tunnel opened into a small cavern lit by a few scattered light bulbs strung across the ceiling.

The stench of urine and unwashed bodies hit Maurice first. Men lay on mats across the floor. On the far side of the cavern, several cells had been carved out of the mountain. Metal bars had been fashioned into doors and hung over the cells. Something or someone moved inside one of the cells.

A low moan echoed softly through the cavern. A couple of the sleeping men stirred and went back to sleep. One man rose, walked to a corner to Maurice’s left and peed in a bucket.

Maurice counted nine Taliban.

He backed around the corner and whispered to the men with him, “Small cavern. Nine bogeys, eight sleeping. Cells on the far side. Ready to roll?”

The other three nodded.

Again, on point, Maurice led the others into the cavern.

The man taking a piss was just finishing when Maurice slipped up behind him and dispatched him with his Ka-Bar knife. The man didn’t even whimper as Maurice eased him to the floor.

Scott, Rusty and Perez took out a Taliban each before someone near Scott woke, sat up and shouted.

The remaining five Taliban leaped to their feet.

Two of the men were too late. Rusty and Perez were on them before they could raise their weapons.

As the last three men started firing, Maurice flattened to a prone position and took out another man, careful not to aim in the direction of the cells.

Rusty and Perez dropped low and opened fire on the last two.

In less than two minutes, the room-cave was silent, the scent of gunpowder and blood mixing with the urine and body odor.

When he was certain none of the enemy remained alive, Maurice rose. “Let’s go.” He and Perez hurried toward the cells.

The cells were secured with padlocks.

“Find the key,” Perez called out. “One of those bastards has to have it on him.”

Scott and Rusty turned over dead men until they found the one with a keyring hanging from his belt.

Scott tossed the keyring to Maurice.

After three attempts, he found the one for the padlock he was working on and opened the gate. He handed the keyring to Perez, who worked the other gate.

Inside the cell, Maurice found a man stripped down to his boxers, his back covered in long, angry slashes, and his feet caked in dried blood. He didn’t move when Maurice squatted beside him and felt for a pulse.

Maurice swore beneath his breath at the abuse the young man had suffered. But he had a pulse. If they could get him to help, he might live. He hefted the man onto his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and carried him out of the cell into the cavern.

Perez had the other man, who was equally brutalized. A moan sounded from Perez’s guy.

With Scott in the lead and Rusty following, they picked their way across the cavern and moved as quickly as possible through the tunnel.

Just as Scott reached out to push the door open into the building, Collins yanked it open, his face tense, his lips pressed into a tight line. “We gotta hustle. We’ve got company.” He didn’t wait for a response but turned and rushed back toward the front of the structure.

“Where’s Tingle?” Maurice asked as he followed Collins, the weight of his charge slowing his steps.

“I’m on top of the building,” Tingle said into Maurice’s ear. “We’ve got a couple of truckloads of enemy heading our way. They’re only about thirty yards away. They’ll be within sight in thirty seconds or less. Get out. I’ll cover.”

“Come down now, and head for the exfil site,” Maurice said.

They’d reached the front.

Collins burst through the door, rifle ready. Scott was out next.

Maurice followed. Then Perez.

Tingle, Collins and Scott covered while Maurice and Perez headed back the way they’d entered the village, with Rusty leading the way. The rest of the team fell in behind them, covering them from the rear.

Gunfire sounded behind Maurice as he entered a narrow alleyway. He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. The team had his back. That’s all he could hope. He and Perez had to get the injured soldiers to the extraction point before the truckloads of trouble caught up with them.

From the sounds behind him, the enemy was hot on their tail. Closing in fast.

Breathing hard, Maurice could hear Rusty radioing for the helicopter. Moments later, they reached the edge of the village.

The helicopter swept in and lowered over the exfil location. Ten feet off the ground, the chopper exploded in a fiery burst, sending rotor blades and shrapnel in all directions.

His heart in his throat, Maurice dropped to the ground with his burden. Those people on the downed helicopter were gone. They’d been his friends.

A second Black Hawk appeared, the gunner hanging out the side, firing into an area fifty yards to the left of where the SEAL team hunkered down.

The gunner in the backup helicopter unloaded hell on the source of the RPG that had taken out the first aircraft.

Soon, the second chopper lowered to the ground near, but not too near, where the other had crashed.

“Move! Move! Move!” Collins yelled into Maurice’s ear. “We’re outnumbered ten to one, and they have RPGS.”

Maurice rose, pulled his charge over his shoulder and ran toward the helicopter as it touched ground.

“Collin’s hit!” Scott yelled into Maurice’s headset.

“Can you get him to the chopper?” Maurice barked into his mic.

“Got him,” Scott grunted. “Son of a bitch is heavy as fuck. But I got him.”

“I’m almost there. Tingle and Rusty, cover and get your asses to the bird.”

Maurice ducked as low as he could as he approached the Black Hawk’s whirling rotors.

The gunner, hanging halfway out of the door, watched for the rest of the team.