Bastian took stock of their gear. Night vision goggles, weapons, ammunition, water, food, a hefty amount of cash. Just what everyone in this war-torn country needed. Add to that radios, maps, and a satellite phone and they were ready for a few fun-filled days sightseeing in South Sudan.

UN peacekeepers provided his A-Team with four battered SUVs. Two would search to the north and northeast. Two would go south under Bastian’s command.

Ezra approached Bastian as he climbed into the vehicle. “Find her,” the aid worker said. “Promise me you’ll find Brie.”

Bastian gave Ezra a sharp nod, wondering if he was in love with her. If she loved him back, then Bastian would deliver her into Ezra’s arms. All he cared about was that she survived.

Two hours after dawn had broken across the central African country, they alternated between driving and searching the side of the road on foot, finding traces of what they believed was Brie Stewart’s passage at regular intervals.

Even though the swamp didn’t show footsteps, her trail was easy to follow. Broken reeds, ripped lily pads, snapped branches lit her path. Easy tracking for a Special Forces team. Hell, they taught foreign soldiers how to do this type of tracking.

Ripley, Espinosa, and Goldberg were mucking about the swamp’s edge while Cal, Pax, and Bastian searched along the higher ground. Pax let out a whistle indicating he found something. Cal and Bastian joined him at the side of the dirt track that passed for a road.

“Boot print,” Pax said, pointing to the tread mark that had become familiar in the hours since they’d been following her steps. “She stepped up to scout. From the angle, she returned to the swamp, going that way.” He pointed, and Bastian saw the faint depression where reeds had been crushed.

Bastian nodded, his gaze to the north, following the path she’d taken. “We’re ten miles from the USAID building.” He was strangely proud she’d made it this far while men hunted her. She was smart. Determined. Even if she did leave a trail. Most people would.

“What’s the deal with her, Bas?” Pax asked. His breaking protocol by using Bastian’s first name was a signal that this was an off-the-record sort of query.

“Nothing,” he said brusquely.

“Bullshit,” Cal said. “You told Cap you didn’t fuck her. Was that a lie?”

“No lie.” He took a deep breath. He owed these men the truth, not that there was much to tell, but they were risking their lives to save Brie Stewart. “I recognized her. When I saw her with Savvy at Camp Citron, I knew exactly who she was. And I—” He paused. Own it. “I hated her for the things she did when she worked for Prime Energy and let her know it.”

“If you dislike her, then why insist on leading the team to find her?” Pax asked.

Espinosa, Goldberg, and Ripley climbed the bank to join the conversation. Fair enough. They deserved the truth too.

He shook his head. “That’s the thing. Something about her got to me. We didn’t even talk all that long. But in the end, I felt like a shit. Like she really has changed, and I was kicking an aid worker—who’s providing relief to starving people in fucking South Sudan of all places—in the face.

“I mean, who does that? She could live anywhere in the world, eat off golden plates, and binge on truffles and caviar. Yet she’s living and working here?” He spread his arms wide to encompass the humid, mosquito-filled swampy landscape. “After we met, I did some research, and learned fun facts about her work here. For instance, she only had electricity when the fuel truck arrived to fill the tank for their generator—which happened maybe once a month. During the rainy season, the truck can’t get there at all. Water is scarce in the dry season because the streams might have the cholera bacteria, and mosquitoes carrying the malaria parasite thrive around water sources.

“And I haven’t even mentioned the number of rapes committed by government and rebel forces, or the special risks to aid workers. Some have been abducted—by government forces—and large ransoms demanded. When foreign governments refuse to pay, they demand money from the oil companies, who are trying to restart their drilling operations in the midst of war.” He gazed down the narrow road, not seeing the trees or ruts. In his mind, he saw too-wide brown eyes and a flawless unfortunate nose.

He let out a slow breath. “She’s been here seven months now, and by all accounts intends to stay through the rainy season. As far as I can tell, she’s the real deal.”

“She could be trying to generate positive PR for Prime Energy,” Espinosa said.

“If that were the case, wouldn’t Prime Energy have her splashed all over their website?” Ripley asked.

“Not if they wanted to keep her safe,” Cal said. “They could be waiting until she’s home again and then promote the hell out of her charity work.”

Bastian shrugged. “Hell, it’s possible this whole fucking abduction was arranged by PE. But what if they didn’t? What if she’s genuine? Savvy said she’s been working for USAID for five years. This isn’t her first deployment, it’s just the most dangerous, and PE never promoted her work before.”

“Won’t she be surprised you’re the man leading her rescue,” Cal said.

Bastian forced a smile and aimed for jocular. “I’m sure she’d prefer a SEAL like Lieutenant Fallon.”

“Don’t they all, though,” Espinosa said.

Pax grinned. “The smart ones prefer Special Forces.” He nodded toward the road ahead. “Speaking of, I promised Morgan we’d rendezvous in Rome before she leaves Europe. SOCOM approved my leave request for next week—which means I need to get my ass back to Camp Citron so I don’t miss my vacation. Let’s find Brie Stewart and get the hell out of South Sudan.”

With that, the best damn half A-team that had ever served in the US Army resumed tracking the reformed, quirky aid worker Bastian was desperate to find.