Because he had to. For himself and, most importantly, for Hunt.
Every minute. Every mission.
Those promised words rang true no matter the battle…no matter the cost. Even if it was a battle raging inside him that no one else could see.
Feeling more at peace than he had in months, Logan adjusted the grip on his weapon and wrapped up the remaining steps in their plan. “Our stopping point should be there, past that ridge.” He pointed to an area up ahead. “We’ll get into position and be weapons ready. Just remember, this is a recon mission only. Unless these assholes somehow manage to spot us, which they won’t—”
“Our bullets stay in our mags.” Chase nodded. “Copy that.”
With a dip of his chin, Logan added, “These guys have no idea we’re here, so it’ll be a quick in and out. Once we’ve made Muhammad and Ahmed, we’ll confirm with TOC and head for exfil. They’ll swoop in, take out the targets, and land in that flat area due east right over there to pick us up. Any questions?”
TOC stood for Tactical Operations Center—the physical location where their commanding officer was supposed to be monitoring communications from the team. For this mission, the team’s TOC was located inside a hotel room in downtown Kandahar.
“I’ve got one.” Archer raised his hand as he stepped away from the narrowing ledge. “Who’s turn is it to buy the first round?”
It was Black Squadron One’s tradition. After every successful mission, the team got together for drinks to celebrate. And they always took turns buying the first round.
There’d been no drinks after the last op, however. None shared between them, anyway.
Pretty sure I drank enough by myself that night to cover a few rounds.
Determined to avoid a repeat of the solo drunk fest he’d hosted in the privacy of his own home, Logan promised Lucky and the others, “Tell you what. We give SECNAV his silver platter, I’ll buy the firsttworounds.”
“Hooyah!” Archer gave an approving smirk.
Sharing a high-five with Lucky, Chase said, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Hunter offered from Logan’s right. When all eyes turned in the man’s direction, the generous operator announced, “We get our HVTs, drinks are on me.”
The offer even piqued Donovan’s interest. “We talking all drinks, or just the first round?”
“Every single one of ’em, my friend.” Hunt nodded. “All night long.”
Logan’s brows arched high. “Damn, Garrison. Guess you really do want to get your ass back home, huh?”
His friend turned to him, his light blue gaze filling with an affection clearly meant for his wife. With an unapologetic smile, Hunter shook his head and said, “Brother, you have no ide—”
The man’s entire upper body jerked backward as something warm and wet splattered the side of Logan’s face. The telltale whizz of the bullet he’d heard registering a fraction of a second too late.
What happened next felt as if it took hours. In reality, it was over in a matter of minutes…
Hunter fell to the ground with a dull thud, his hand flying toward the fresh wound at the side of his neck. Before Logan or the others, could even react, a second bullet flew past. Luckily it went wide, missing its target and striking a nearby boulder.
Like a rubber band pulled past its limits, Logan—along with the others—snapped out of his shocked state and went straight into action.
“Shooter, shooter, shooter!”he yelled out to his men.“Hunt’s down! Cover me!”
He dropped down to where Hunter lay bleeding. With his team’s cannonade temporarily holding off the enemy, he curled his fingers around the edge of the injured man’s protective vest and held on tight.
Logan kept the rifle in his hand as steady as he could while he dragged his teammate to safety. Using the boulder they’d been near as cover, he dropped his ass to the ground and pressed his back against the giant rock’s smooth surface.
From the comms unit attached to his tactical vest, Logan wasted no time putting a call into command. “TOC, this is One! Number Two is hit!” he yelled over the gunfire. “I repeat, Number Two is down, and Black Squadron One is taking fire! Over!”
Releasing the mic, he returned his attention to Hunt. Ignoring the way his fingers were trembling, he carefully peeled back the blood-soaked collar of the man’s desert tan t-shirt.
Logan’s stomach completely bottomed out when he got his first good look at where the bullet had hit.
Oh, God.