“Sounds like a plan to me,” Falcon commented.
“Too bad it doesn’t have X-ray vision,” Apollo chimed in. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not really looking forward to busting into a cave without knowing for sure what we’re up against.”
Like Slade, Apollo—A.K.A. Ethan McAllister—was a former SEAL. The guy’s specialty was hand-to-hand combat, hence the nickname. At six-four and weighing in at roughly two-twenty-five, the man was a muscular beast. It didn’t hurt that his reach was nearly eighty inches, giving him an even greater advantage over the average asshole.
“I know this isn’t ideal,” Shadow repeated the sentiment. “But all intel we’ve received so far on this thing has all been solid, so there’s no reason to think the max head count of ten is inaccurate. Besides, you guys have worked with much less in the past, and you’re all still here to talk about it, aren’t you?”
Beckett grinned, knowing the brilliant woman’s lighthearted comment was meant to calm the waters, so to speak.
“Let’s just hope luck remains on our side,” Apollo grumbled low.
“Luck has nothin’ to do with it, my friend,” Falcon told their disgruntled teammate. “Like Digger said. We’ll wait until it’s dark, sweep the place clean, and get you back home to that new wife of yours before she can even have time to miss you.”
And there was the real reason behind Apollo’s concern. During a recent op, the other man had been unexpectedly reunited with his high school crush. The two reconnected while Nicki was under the team’s protection, and after the sweet artist was kidnapped and nearly killed, Apollo wasted no time in claiming her as his own.
The happy couple had been married a few weeks now, and though Beckett had never had the kind of soul-deep love his teammate was lucky enough to find, he understood his friend’s desire to make it back to his bride in one piece.
Same went for Falcon whose sweet wife, Avery, was back home, no doubt waiting for the sharpshooter’s safe return. The two met on a cruise ship, of all places, and according to his teammate, they had an instant and undeniable connection.
Ironically enough, both Avery and Falcon were taken hostage while on an excursion in the Dominican Republic. Thanks to their quick thinking and brave actions, the couple—along with the other hostages—had been rescued, and the militant group responsible had been effectively taken down.
Both men were lucky enough to find the kind of love that would stand the test of time, and Beckett couldn’t help but wonder when, or evenif, it would happen for him, too.
Of its own accord, the image of Evelynn Mitchell’s smiling face flashed before him once again. Before he could remind himself how incredibly inappropriate it was to even be thinking about such things on an op—especially since he’d never met the woman—Apollo’s voice rang through the comms once again.
“You’d better be right, Bones,” the other man offered. “Something happens to me, Nicki will have all your asses.”
“Same goes for Aves,” Falcon added to Apollo’s warning. “Trust me, I’ve seen that woman in action. She’s a helluva lot tougher than she looks.”
Beckett scoffed. “Tell us something we don’t know. Hell, I’d rather take my chances with the pricks we’re after now than be on Avery’s or Nicki’s bad side.”
“I second that.” Shadow’s slightly raspy voice returned to the conversation, despite having never met them or the Tac-Ops wives.
Redirecting the conversation to their current situation, Digger took control once more. “Hey, I have an idea.” The decidedly single man’s tone oozed of sarcasm. “How ’bout we focus on why we’re here and leave the lovesick bullshit back home, where it belongs.”
Silence filled the comms for a handful of seconds before Apollo popped back with a drawled, “Says the man who’s more afraid of a committed, long-term relationship than a room filled with C4.”
“I’m not scared of jack shit, asshole. Now can we please keep our heads in the game?”
“A bit defensive, are we?” Beckett chimed back in. “Besides, our game has been delayed until sundown, remember? We’ve got nothin’ but time to waste.”
“This is an op, jackass. Not some chick-flick gab session. If it doesn’t pertain to the mission, it doesn’t need to be discussed.”
“Damn, Dig,” Falcon addressed their team leader directly. “Someone piss in your cornflakes this morning or something?”
“Cornflakes, Digger?” Shadow joined in the fun. “For some reason, I always pictured you as a Honey Nut Cheerios kind of guy.”
Several snickers filled the small mic in Beckett’s ear as his shoulders shook with a chuckle. But after a quick glance in Digger’s direction, it became very clear the irritated man hadn’t found the humor in Shadow’s joke.
“Not gonna bite, huh?” Shadow asked rhetorically. “Okay, fine. I’ll check in when it’s closer to go-time. Until then, you know the drill.”
“Heads down, eyes on the prize,” Beckett answered for the group.
“Exactly. Talk soon.” Shadow signed off, leaving the men of Tac-Ops to do little more than sit and wait.
They passed the time by fine-tuning their new plan of attack. When the time came, Falcon would remain in his current position. With the expert sniper watching their sixes, Beckett and the others would carefully make their way down the steep hill they were on.
Once they reached level ground, he and the others would quietly take out any tangos standing between them and the entrance to the faction’s man-made cave. After that, they would go inside and get what they came for.