“Why this op?” Chase asked as they approached the edge of their targeted valley.
Each man on the team took great care with their steps to prevent a slip of their feet as they worked their way down the ground’s sharpening decent.
“Because we have to maketwopositive IDs this time.” The toe of Lucky’s left boot kicked a small rock, sending it rolling forward in the dirt with his next step. “And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have no desire to face SECNAV with our second mission failure in a row.”
“NowthatI can agree with.” Hunt moved a hand around to his backside, rubbing an ass he pretended was sore. “Pretty sure my cheeks are still raw from the last one.”
“That’s no shit,” Archer agreed. With the ends of his thick dark hair curling out beneath the tactical helmet covering the guy’s head, the team’s explosives expert snorted as he added, “It’s a wonderanyof us can sit after the colorful dismissal Webb gave us during our last debrief.”
It was true, Secretary Webb had been less than pleased with the results of their last op.
Who are you kidding, Hayes? The man was pissed as hell.
“I believe SECNAV’s parting words were something like, get the fuck out of here, you fucking bunch of fuckups,” Lucky recalled with impressive accuracy. “And don’t come back until you’ve got Jamal Muhammad and Omar Ahmed’s heads on a fucking platter!”
Then, as if they’d rehearsed it to perfection, the entire team—Donovan, included—let out a unified, “And it had better be made of fucking silver!”
The collective chuckle that followed was like a soothing balm to Logan’s troubled soul. The respite from his guilt was short-lived, however, when Hunter looked over at him with a sideways smirk.
“Leave it to Lucky to recite an ass chewing verbatim.” The other man huffed a soft laugh. “But my case still stands. I promised Nat I’d be home to take her out for our first anniversary. Haven’t broken a promise to that woman yet, and my ass don’t plan on starting with that shit now.”
Logan’s recent thoughts left his gut tightening with guilt, but he meant every assuring word when he said, “We’ll get you home, brother. Every minute…” He raised his fist.
“Every mission.” Hunt lifted his hand with a smile.
A bump of their canvas-covered knuckles solidified what Logan already knew. This man meant more to him than any romantic relationship ever could. Especially one that didn’t even exist.
With their targeted location half-a-mile away, he pulled his head out of his ass and got himself in check. In full operator mode, he wanted to make sure the others did the same.
“All right, boys. It’s almost party time, so be ready and stay sharp.”
Just like that, the six-man team became the warriors they were trained to be. A well-oiled machine made of muscles, brains, and the deadliest of aims.
Out of all the active DEVGRU squadrons, it wasthisteam SECNAV turned to when shit was about to hit the fan. Or rather, the powerful man often sought out Logan and his men to prevent the shit from ever flying up in the first place.
Right now, their objective was to keep two of the Middle East’s most dangerous leaders from banding together to form an even bigger, more powerful terrorist group than the ones they currently led.
And that’s exactly what they intended to do.
Having switched to faster, more purposeful steps, the team covered the next quarter mile with relative ease. Though the distance traveled was minimal, the terrain on the horizon looked vastly different.
Unlike the mundane canvas of dusty plains and sharp, ugly edges, the world lying below them was an oasis of blues and greens. Knowing the homestretch was under their boots, Logan used their bird’s eye view to point out the large body of water resting over five hundred feet down from their location.
According to intel, their targets were planning to meet just off the road running nearest the dam’s power plant. From here, Logan and his team would be able to spot them clearly through their scopes to make the ID’s without them ever being aware of Black Squadron’s presence.
“That’s the Arghandab Dam,” he stated the obvious. “C.I.A.’s asset said to look for its southwestern tail, there, which means we’re about half-a-click from our vantage point. We get there, check our sights, and hunker down. Once our boys show, we take a few pics for SECNAV’s scrapbook, pack up our shit, and—”
“Get our asses home,” Hunter finished for him with a grin.
Look at that smile. If there was ever a man who deserved to be that happy, it’s that man right there.
The moment was brief, but pivotal. And one that was long overdue.
Nothing had changed, and yet, everything suddenly felt different. After over a year of tortured thoughts and remorseful dreams, Logan had finally pushed past the not-so-mid-life-crisis that had left his heart twisted into a million little knots.
The conflicting feelings were still there; he wasn’t naïve enough to think he could flip a switch on that shit. But for reasons he may never understand that one breath of time—along with that goofy ass smile of Hunter’s—resonated with him in a way that nothing had before.
This wasn’t some massive mid-thirties crisis, and Logan wasn’t a lovesick fool. He was a Navy SEAL for fuck’s sake. A Black Squadron operator leading the top government covert team in existence. Ofcourse, he was going to get over these feelings he’d been having.