Chapter 16
ACE
“I’m seeing four heat signatures,” Alec murmurs through our comms. “Two near the west end of the building, and two more at the south.”
“Hopefully one of them’s our target,” Garrett replies.
“Intel says it is,” Sawyer says. “Our source hasn’t been wrong yet.”
As I look at the rundown building two hundred yards ahead, I mentally run through our plan.
Once we get into position, I’ll set off an explosion at the front as a distraction.
Before the smoke clears, I’ll head in with Garrett and Rhett.
Right on our heels, Sawyer, Alec, and Levi will breach from the rear.
With the six of us against four of them, especially leaning on the element of surprise, we should be able to take out the tangos easily.
Less than ten minutes, and our mission should be complete.
Take out Hamid Jafadi, high-ranking Taliban officer, and his associates, obtain proof of death, and get the fuck out before anyone else interferes.
Then it’s just two klicks to the exfil point, where a Black Hawk should be ready for us.
Two hours from now, we should be back at camp with our mission complete.
Should.
Because we all know that no matter how much we plan, there’s no guarantee of the outcome. Shit can go sideways in the blink of an eye. All it takes is the wrong person spotting us, the explosive fizzling, tangos hiding in a basement beneath the building, where Alec’s thermal camera can’t reach…
“Ready to move in?” Levi asks. As Assistant Detachment Commander, he’s in charge when we’re operating as a split team, which we often do when dealing with ops that require more precision.
“Ready,” we reply in unison.
Muscles tense. Weapons come into position. I reach into my vest pocket to verify that the explosive is still there. I’ve already checked several times, but when it comes to something as critical as this, you can never be too careful.
“Okay,” Levi says. “On my signal.”
His hand comes up in the hold position. In the seconds before it falls, I cast a quick glance at my team. To my best friends. My brothers. And in the case of Garrett, my best friend.
Garrett meets my gaze and lifts his chin in return. He looks calm, like he’s strolling through a park instead of creeping through enemy territory in the dark of night.
Levi’s hand comes down.
One after another, we charge forward, darting from one shadow to another. No one speaks. We don’t have to. We’ve gone over the plan enough times for it to be second nature by now.
A hundred yards out, we gather behind a burned-out building briefly before making our final approach.
Levi nods at Alec, who quickly pulls out the thermal camera once more to verify the tangos’ positions.
Less than thirty seconds later, Alec jerks his chin in confirmation.
“They haven’t moved,” he says, in a tone so low I can barely hear it.
Levi nods in approval. Then he lifts his hand again. “Ace. Garrett. Rhett. Ready?”
We all nod in response.
His hand falls.
Garrett takes off running first, then me, and Rhett at my six.
As we sprint down the darkened alley, we stick close together. It’s eerily silent, save for the shallow sound of my breaths.
My adrenaline surges, just as it always does right before we stage an attack.
I pull the explosive from my pocket and cradle it in my hand. My finger finds the fuse, ready to trigger it.
Fifty yards out, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
A sense of impending doom presses down on my chest.
There’s no reason for it. Everything should be fine. The intel was sound. At this time of night, the streets are quiet, and the windows in the surrounding buildings are dark. We’re nearly there. Just a few minutes, and the target will be neutralized.
But something doesn’t feel right.
My footsteps stutter. My heart jumps.
“Something’s off,” I murmur into my comm. “I’m not sure—”
But I’m interrupted by an explosion of gunfire.
“Down!” Garrett shouts. “Get down!”
But before we can, a bomb detonates ahead of us, knocking us off our feet.
Garrett takes the brunt of it, and he’s tossed several yards backward before crashing to the ground.
Levi calls out, “Retreat! We’ll cover you! Go!”
I pull myself to my feet, taking stock. I’m bruised. Hot blood runs down my face. My forehead stings. But I’m all in one piece.
Rhett and I race over to Garrett, who’s still lying on the ground. As we reach him, Garrett sits up. His expression is dazed. A trickle of blood leaks from his mouth.
My heart leaps to my throat.
“Lynx,” I say, using his nickname. “Can you—”
“I’m okay,” he says. Pushing himself to his feet, he wobbles a little before regaining his balance. “I’m okay.”
Then, with Rhett flanking him on one side and me on the other, we start running back in the direction we came. Bullets fly around us, both from the tangos and our own team. Someone screams, a high-pitched wail that trails off into nothing.
Another bomb explodes to our left, but we keep going. Garrett stumbles, but he stays on his feet. Time seems to speed up and stretch on forever at the same time.
The distance to reach cover is only a few hundred yards, but it feels like miles.
But we finally reach it—a shell of a structure that used to be a house, but gives us enough cover to regroup. To turn the tables on the men who attacked us, and hopefully take out our target as well.
By the time we get there, Rhett and I are practically carrying Garrett. Levi and Alec crowd around us, their expressions hard with anger, their gazes dark with concern. “Lynx,” Levi says. “Where are you hurt?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Garrett replies. He coughs, and blood comes out. “Get these fuckers. I’ll stay here and give—” He coughs again. “Cover. Just—”
He collapses.
Dropping down beside him, I call over my shoulder, “I’ll guard Lynx. You guys go.”
“Where’s Sawyer?” Levi asks. Tension strains his voice. “I don’t see Sawyer.”
Garrett makes a horrible, choking sound. Blood bubbles from his mouth.
My heart stops. “Garrett.”
“It’s okay, King,” he replies weakly. Then he gives me a smile that looks more like a grimace. “It’s okay. I think… this time… my luck’s… run out.”
“No.” My heart tears in two. “No. You’re going to be fine. Just—”
As I’m looking into the eyes of my dying friend, suddenly, everything shifts.
I’m not in Afghanistan anymore, but a sterile hospital room.
Garrett’s dark eyes aren’t looking back at me, but the faded blue ones of my dad.
The rhythmic beeping of monitors replaces the barrage of gunfire.
My dad’s breath comes in wheezing, labored gasps, despite the oxygen he’s being given.
In the background, an alarm sounds, followed by a crackling, “Code blue. Code blue in room two-twelve.”
My gaze skitters to the number posted on the open door. It says two-o-eight.
My dad pulls his oxygen mask down. “Ace.” His gaze searches mine. “You’re here.”
I grab his hand, hating how cold it is in mine. “I’m here.” My throat goes thick. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. The mission… I couldn’t leave until it was complete. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes shine wetly. “It’s okay, Ace. You’re here now. And—” He coughs. It’s deep. Rattly. Painful sounding.
Pain slashes my heart. “Just rest, okay? I’ll be right here.” I start to move his mask back over his face. But he stops me.
“Ace,” he says. “It’s the… greatest honor… of my life. Having you… for a son.”
Tears burn behind my eyes.
I blink them away. But when my eyes reopen, I’m plunged into a different reality.
My dad is gone.
Before me, Yara lies still and silent, her eyes closed and her skin unnaturally pale.
She’s still so beautiful, but something’s missing.
I look at her chest, and it’s not moving.
No steady rise and fall of her breath.
Panic leaps inside me.
I take her wrist, fumbling for her pulse.
But there’s nothing. Not even a faint thrum of life.
Terror bursts to life, clawing and tearing.
“Yara,” I beg, grabbing hold of her shoulders and shaking her. “Wake up. Please.”
She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t open those gorgeous green-gray eyes to look at me. She doesn’t do anything aside from flop limply on the bed.
“Please,” I beg. “Please. Wake up, Yara. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Just wake up. Please.”
Tears I haven’t shed since the day my dad died drip onto the crisp sheet, making dark spots where they land. “Please, Yara. I can’t be without you. Please. I love you.”
From somewhere in the hallway, a feminine voice calls, “Ace. It’s okay. You’re in your apartment. You’re okay.”
Shock ripples through me.
In front of me, Yara is still motionless. Lifeless.
But from the hallway, I hear her voice.
“Ace,” she repeats. Calmly. Gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
“Yara?” I ask. Then I lean my cheek close to her mouth, hoping to feel the reassurance of her breath.
There’s nothing.
My heart breaks wide open.
“Ace.” It’s firmer this time. “Wake up. It’s okay. I’m right here. Just open your eyes.”
In a strike of clarity, realization hits me.
It’s a dream. One of things that happened, and things I pray never will.
“Wake up,” Yara commands, and I do.
My eyes fly open to find her sitting on the other side of the bed, watching me with deep concern.
“Yara,” I gasp, so fucking relieved to see her alive, I jerk up into a seated position and pull her into my arms. “Fuck. Ah, fuck. Yara.”
Her arms come around me, hugging me tight. “I didn’t want to touch you,” she says. “I mean, I wanted to. But I didn’t think it would be a good idea. In case it was a flashback.”
I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent. I close my eyes while trying to regain my composure. Once I trust myself to speak, I release her slightly, still keeping her in my arms but setting her apart enough to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“Yes. But that’s okay.” A smile ghosts her lips. “I’ve woken you up enough times with my nightmares.”
Releasing a long breath, I command my racing pulse to settle. “Still. I know you don’t sleep well, and—”