“You need to sleep,” Harold said in a barely there whisper. He eased himself down beside her, so they were sitting against the wall of the hut, staring at the locked door.

Marcia looked at the man she had come to love almost as much as she had her own dad. “I just can’t, Mr. B.”

“Lesley, you need to call me Dad at all times.”

It was freaky hearing him call her Lesley. It was almost like it was bad luck or something, that they were wishing Lesley harm.

“You’re thinking too hard about this. Would it be easier if I just called you Honey?”

Marcia nodded. “Do you really think someone’s going to find us?”

“Definitely. Now can you sleep?”

Marcia shook her head, then scowled as she felt her dirty hair hit her face. “Ever since they drugged us, so they could take us off the boat to wherever we are, I just can’t seem to close my eyes. I’m too scared I’ll wake up somewhere even worse.”

“Honey, the girls need you. They need you fully functioning, and instead, you’ve been fading. What you accomplished with the EpiPen was fantastic. You got us help.”

She stared up at Harold Brockman, looking for reassurance. “What if I did it wrong?”

“You didn’t. I’ve known you damn near your whole life, you did it perfectly. We just need to be ready when help arrives.”

“What happens if Raymond goes somewhere with the backpack? I should never have put it back there.” Marcia hit her fist on her thigh. “That was so stupid.”

“It isn’t his, it’s a duffel they put everything in, it’s not going anywhere. Haven’t you noticed, all the men are still wearing their regular packs?”

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But she would have felt better if it was with them.

“I have to depend on you to follow orders,” his voice turned to steel. “If they had found that watch on you, they would have beat you or worse. Then they would have destroyed the beacon and moved all of us. Our lives depend on you doing what I tell you.” He put his knuckles under her chin. “Look at me.”

She raised her eyes.

He started coughing, but she watched him will himself to stop. She was so worried about his injuries. “Now my family doesn’t know this. My wife didn’t even know this, but I’ve been in a situation similar to this in the past. I know what I’m doing. I know what needs to be done to survive. You have to do what I tell you. If you don’t, we’ll die.”

“You really were a spy, weren’t you?”

“If I tell you, then I’ll have to kill you,” he said with a wan grin.

She smiled, trying to perk him up. “Did you have a number? Were you 008?”

“That’s for the British. We came up with code names like Rambo. Seriously though, I need you alert for whatever comes next. I’m depending on you. That means you need to get some shut-eye. I’m on watch, you sleep. Then when you wake up, we can switch. How does that sound?” He coughed again.

It actually sounded good. Marcia pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself. She stretched out and placed her arms under her head and looked over at Debbie and Christie. Knowing she needed to be rested for them had her closing her eyes.

Marcia felt rather than heard when Debbie stood over her. “What is it Sweets?” she asked the girl.

“I need to go,” she said nodding toward the door.

There was a makeshift outhouse their captors had made near the edge of the clearing. It offered a bit of privacy, and Marcia always went with the girls. She looked at Harold and saw he was awake but sweating a lot. He gave a tight grin and nod. Those ribs of his had to be hurting pretty bad. She’d insist he take off his shirt and then bind him with a torn blanket when she returned.

“Okay, Debbie, let’s go.” She banged on the door. “Bathroom break,” she shouted.

Of course, there was no answer. Even though it was the afternoon and she could hear noise outside, they always took their damn time to let them out. She gave it two minutes, then banged on the door even louder.

“Bathroom break,” she yelled again. She turned to Christie who was still on the floor, clutching her blanket around her. She knew she hated going to the latrine and held off for as long as she could, but she needed to take advantage.

“Christie, come with us.”

The younger girl shook her head.

“Christie, go with the other girls,” Harold said.

“No. I want to stay with you. I don’t have to go. I promise.”

Marcia looked at the water bottle next to Christie and realized it was almost full. Mr. Brockman must have seen it too.

“Christie, you have to drink your water, otherwise, you’ll get sick. Drink some right now.”

“No.” Christie didn’t look twelve, she looked five years old sitting in the middle of the dirt floor of the hut as she stared petulantly at her father.

“Young lady, I said drink it.”

“Fine.” Christie picked up the bottle and started drinking, and Debbie banged on the door of the hut. It opened.

“Keep your pants on,” Raymond laughed. “Oh yeah, you’re not, are you? Follow me, I’m your guide.”

Debbie grabbed Marcia’s hand in a death grip as they walked across the little clearing toward the lean-to that housed the communal toilet which was nothing more than wooden planks over a hole in the ground.

“Wait here.” Marcia looked inside before she would let Debbie go inside. She wanted to make sure there were no snakes or spiders. Marcia came back out. “Where’s the toilet paper?” she demanded.

“We’re out,” Raymond smirked.

“Kyle said he made sure there would be some for the girls.”

“He was wrong.”

Marcia grabbed Debbie’s hand. “I’m going to find him.” She started walking away with the girl in tow. Raymond grabbed her upper arm and whirled her around.

“Bitch. You’ll do what I say. We’re out of goddamn toilet paper. The little girl can go find a fucking leaf.”

“No!” a woman shrieked

Raymond, Marcia, and Debbie all whirled around to stare when they saw Mr. Hoff being dragged out of his hut with his sobbing wife following him.

“Raymond, get over here,” Kyle called.

“Come on, let’s join the party.” Raymond grabbed both of their arms and fast-walked them over to where the Hoff’s were.

“I have good news,” Kyle said grinning to the nine mercenaries standing around the Hoff’s. “We just made our first sale.”

Another man Marcia hated, his name was Kroeger, he pulled out his knife and started cleaning his nails. “So now that there’s less for us to watch, you going to start paying us off and letting us go on our merry way?” he asked Kyle.

“Is that what you want to do? Do you want to be released early from the job?” Kyle asked.

“I’m sick of the jungle. You’re getting paid now. It could be weeks before the other deals are made. So yeah, I want out early.”

“Okay, that can be arranged.” Kyle nodded to the bald man who was next to Kroeger, and somehow, he’d shot Kroeger in the head before Marcia even saw him pull out his gun.

Mrs. Hoff started to scream hysterically. Debbie started to cry. Marcia pulled her into her arms, shoving the young girl’s face into her chest, so she couldn’t look at the bloody mess.

“Nice going, Kyle, more for us. How much is Hoff going for?” Raymond asked.

“He’s small potatoes compared to the physicist and Brockman, he only went for six million.”

“Cool, he’s the six-million-dollar man,” the bald man said.

“You girls are going to be with us a while,” Raymond whispered to Marcia and Debbie. “Your daddy’s worth a fortune.”

Debbie whimpered, but Marcia had had enough. “If he’s so important, where the heck is our fricking toilet paper?” she said loud enough for Kyle to hear.

“Bitch,” Raymond said under his breath.

“You’ve got balls, Lesley,” Kyle chuckled. “I like that. Raymond, give them a roll of toilet paper to keep. They’ll have to make it last.”

Raymond let go of her arm and stomped off. Marcia breathed a sigh of relief. She knew it was going to be badly bruised. She watched as Raymond tried to go past Kyle, but the man shoved Raymond in the chest and whispered in his ear. Raymond paled, then he turned to glare at Marcia. Kyle pushed him away toward the mercenaries’ quarters.

“Come on, Franz, let’s get you and Lilith going. You’ve got a boat to catch. Need to start your trek through the jungle. Then you get to take a nice nap again. You remember that, don’t you?” Kyle asked.

Mrs. Hoff started talking in German to her husband. Kyle backhanded her. “English. Speak in English.”

She hit the ground hard and didn’t get up. It took a moment for Marcia to realize her head had hit a rock.

“Fuck me,” Kyle said disgustedly. He yanked her up by her arm and shook her. “Lilith, are you with me?” She moaned.

“Well, at least you’re not dead. Now, speak English.”

She looked up at him helplessly. “Where are we going?”

“There are some nice people in Tehran who want to talk to your husband about his banking practices.”

“Can’t you let her go? I’ll tell them anything they want to know. Can’t she be set free?” Mr. Hoff begged.

“Franz, you’re a big boy. You know everyone likes to have a bit of influence when negotiating with someone. She’s their way of influencing you.”

Marcia watched as Mr. Hoff started to cry. Then like magic, Mrs. Hoff stopped. “It’s going to be okay Franz. I’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine. You’ll see.”

Raymond stomped back and shoved the roll into Marcia’s chest. “I’m going to get you for this.” He grabbed her and pulled so hard, she hit her knees. “Get up.”

Debbie looked at Marcia, her fright obvious. Marcia gave her the best smile she could and got off the ground. Raymond damn near sprinted to the lean-to, and the girls did their best to keep up. Marcia handed the roll of toilet paper to Debbie and stood in front of the opening to give her privacy from Raymond. She also didn’t want Debbie to be able to see anything happening with the Hoff’s.

“Bull, you’re going to go with Kevin, I want you back tomorrow. Duane isn’t answering at the boat. He’s probably drinking again. If he is, you know what to do,” Kyle said.

Marcia saw the man named Bull nod his head. What the heck that meant, she had no idea. At least, he seemed kind the way he helped Mrs. Hoff to her feet. God, what was going to happen to them when they got to Tehran? Were they really going to torture Mrs. Hoff? Surely Mr. Hoff would just tell them everything he knew. She knew Mr. Brockman would because he wouldn’t want anything to happen to Christie or Debbie.

What happened if they didn’t believe him? What happened if they thought he wasn’t telling them everything? She covered her mouth, sure she was going to throw up.

“Marcia, are you all right?” Debbie asked as she came out of the outhouse.

“Who’s Marcia?” Raymond demanded.

“That’s my middle name,” Marcia quickly lied. “Lesley Marcia Brockman.”

Raymond stared at her for a moment, then looked back at the spectacle in the clearing where the Hoff’s were being led away. Mrs. Hoff was trying to comfort her husband.

“Look at how weak he is,” Raymond said. “You can totally see he doesn’t wear the pants in that family,” he laughed. “Same damn thing with the professor and her husband. Damn, all these pussy-whipped men, it’s pathetic.”

Debbie handed the roll of toilet paper to Marcia. “It’s your turn. I’ll stand guard.”

Raymond laughed again. “What are you going to guard against, little girly?”

“Debbie, just stay close, okay?” Marcia said quietly. She waited until the girl nodded, then went into the lean-to. Marcia finished quickly and was zipping up her jeans when three loud blasts sounded right outside.

“Debbie,” she screamed, sure the girl had been shot even though she could see she had just ducked down. Marcia lunged out of the opening and tackled her to the ground, covering her with her body.

“Fuck,” Raymond yelled. Marcia looked up and saw he had pulled his huge pistol out of its holster and had it aimed into the clearing. She looked over to see what he was aiming at. The two men who had been holding the Hoff’s were now lying in a pool of blood. Mrs. Hoff was screaming again. She saw two of Kyle’s men behind the hut where Christie and Harold were, and they were shooting into the jungle. Where was Kyle? Were they about to be rescued?

More shots were fired. Another one of the mercenaries ran over to the Hoff’s and grabbed Mr. Hoff, putting a gun to his head.

“Stop shooting, or I’ll kill him,” he shouted to the unknown assailants in the jungle.

The shooting stopped, and Marcia breathed a sigh of relief. At least there wouldn’t be any more holes shot into the hut with Mr. B. and Christie. Then she saw blood spray at the same time as she heard the crack of a rifle. The head of the man holding Mr. Hoff just disintegrated. Marcia stared in disbelief as Mr. Hoff and the dead man both fell to the ground.

“Franz,” Mrs. Hoff screamed at the top of her lungs. She crawled over to her husband. She screamed again as her leg spurted blood. Oh God, she’d been shot. Marcia tried to cover Debbie even more, not wanting the precious girl to be hurt.

So many shots rang out through the clearing, Marcia felt dizzy. She tried to see what was going on, wanting to know if they were going to live or not. She prayed all the bad guys would die, and they would be rescued.

She shrieked as her hair was wrenched almost out of her head. She was on her knees. She desperately tried to pull out of Raymond’s grasp, so she could protect Debbie.

“Stop it. You’re coming with me.”

“Marcia,” the young girl wailed.

Raymond pointed the gun at the Debbie. Shots continued to ring out. Then, like avenging angels, Marcia saw men painted in green and wearing green fatigues running into the clearing. They shot Kyle.

Her hair was yanked so hard, she was lifted onto her feet. “I will kill your sister.” Raymond’s eyes looked crazy. Marcia looked down and saw his gun was pointed at Debbie’s head.

“Don’t go,” Debbie begged.

“What do you want?” Marcia asked.

“You’re my insurance policy. I’ll get a payoff as long as I have you. Now, let’s go.”

When Marcia hesitated, he hit Debbie in the head with the muzzle of the rifle. She let out a cry and slumped to the ground. He lifted the rifle butt again and stared at Marcia.

“It’s your choice.”

“Stop! I’ll go with you.”

He fisted his hand in her curls and yanked. She did her best to keep up with him, trying not to cry despite the pain. It wasn’t until they were well past the clearing and lost in the jungle, she realized her jeans weren’t even buttoned.

* * *

“Count off,” Gray commanded. “I want to know how many bogeys you got.”

“One,” Dalton said.

“Two,” Hunter said.

“One,” Aiden said.

“One,” Dex said.

“Two,” Zed said as he prowled into the clearing. He counted three prisoner huts and one larger dwelling for the mercs. Aiden was kneeling down next to an old man and woman, his backpack already off, so he could offer first-aid.

“I’m counting eight bodies, Lieutenant,” Griff said to Gray Tyler. “Either someone’s being bashful, or there was a falling out amongst these assholes, and they killed one of their own.”

Zed watched as Aiden talked to the older couple, then spoke up. “The leader executed one of the men before we got here according to Mrs. Hoff.” That still left them down one mercenary. According to Duane on the boat, there were nine guys up here at the camp, and Zed was positive he hadn’t been lying. He’d been in too much pain to lie.

“I’ve got Brockman, and he’s in bad shape,” Dex called from one of the huts.

“I’ve got two injured,” Griff yelled, from another hut.

Zed scanned the area carefully, he felt something. That’s when he heard it. A whimper over at the edge of the clearing.

“Nobody in the barracks,” Dalton said disgustedly. He and Wyatt came out and went to Aiden. He saw Dalton get some of Aiden’s supplies and head into the hut with Dex as Zed started jogging toward the soft sound of a girl crying. He saw the makeshift latrine, and the closer he got to it, he could smell the stench.

“Hello?” he queried. “Who are you? It’s safe to come out.”

There was no answer. He crouched down, knowing his size was formidable. Even though he was pretty sure that he was dealing with an innocent, he kept his rifle at the ready since there was still one mercenary unaccounted for. A girl who couldn’t be more than thirteen peeked around the corner, her brown hair was matted with blood.

“He took her,” she gasped. “You have to save her.”

Zed moved toward her, “Querida, I have to look at your head.”

She shook her head, then moaned. “What?”

“Honey, you’re hurt.”

Enough of this happy horseshit. Zed pushed his rifle behind his back and had the girl up in his arms before she could blink.

“Please, help Marcia,” she said again in a whisper. “He’s got her.”

“I will,” he promised. “You need to be quiet, so we can help you, right now.” He eased her down on the ground next to the older couple he recognized as the Hoff’s. “Where are the others?” he asked Aiden quietly.

“My sister and dad are in there,” the girl struggled to sit up as she pointed at one of the huts.

“What’s your name?” Aiden asked as he crouched down beside her. He already had a sterile pad against her head and was flashing a penlight in her eyes. “Look forward for me, will you?” he smiled easily at the girl.

“You’re not listening to me.” She grabbed at Zed’s arm, ignoring Aiden. “I’m fine. You need to go after Marcia. That man will kill her.” Her eyes flooded with tears.

The kid was killing him. He loved her concern for Marcia. Every instinct inside him was screaming to do exactly what she wanted. He needed to go after Marcia and bring her back to safety.

“Gray, we’ve got a problem,” Zed heard Hunter shout out to the lieutenant. “Come here.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” Zed squeezed the girl’s hand and went over to see what Hunter had found. He was examining one of the corpses and had rolled up the man’s shirt sleeve. Even from ten yards away he could clearly see the man had a Navy SEAL trident tattoo on his bicep.

Fuck!

He’d been one of theirs, and he’d been part of this heinous operation. It made Zed sick.

“Check ‘em all,” Gray bit out. “I want to know if there are any more Budweiser tats.”

On the third man Zed checked, he found a screaming eagle tattoo. “Got us Airborne over here,” he hollered.

“Those of you not doing triage, huddle up. Dex, I need you on me,” Gray shouted loud enough so Dex could hear even though he was in the hut with the Brockman’s.

Dex came out of the hut and glanced around until he spotted Aiden. “O’Malley, Brockman isn’t doing well. He’s having trouble breathing. I’m pretty sure one of his ribs punctured a lung.”

“Give me another minute,” Aiden said.

Zed watched as he finished applying a tourniquet to Mrs. Hoff’s leg. He gave her a shot, probably full of painkillers and antibiotics. She was going to need to be carried out of the jungle. Zed headed over to Gray and the rest of the team.

“Mister,” the girl called out as Zed passed her.

Zed stopped. “Honey, is your name Christie or Debbie?”

“I’m Debbie.”

“Well Debbie, I haven’t forgotten about Marcia, I promise.”

“Raymond’s evil. You’ve got to help her.” Her eyes were bright with tears, but this time, she was holding them back.

The picture of Marcia Price filled his consciousness, but instead of the smile on her picture, her face was a mask of dread. “We’ll help her. That’s what we do,” Zed said grimly. He watched as Debbie relaxed. He patted her on the shoulder, then continued on toward Gray and the others.

“…all the communications deciphered ASAP. I need every little bit of data you can get, not just about the bidders, but anything you can find out about who else might be running this op.” Dex nodded at Gray then headed toward the barracks.

Gray turned his attention back to the other men gathered around him. “Dalton, I want you to scan all of these assholes fingerprints. Something tells me more than just these two are US Spec Ops. Wyatt, I want you to confiscate all of their personal belongings, we’re taking it all. I don’t want one damn thing that can be traced back to the U.S. or any other country, for that matter, in case we can’t arrange an extraction team for the bodies before someone else stumbles across them.”

Aiden walked up to the huddle. “How bad is it?” Gray asked.

“We have two who need immediate help and will need to be carried. The professor and her husband can walk, but they’ll be slow like the Brockman girls. Mr. Hoff should be able to assist us with them.”

Zed watched Gray carefully. This was the first time he had to see him deal with a totally fucked up situation. It would be interesting to see how he differed from his own lieutenant. “But we don’t have everyone accounted for, do we?” Gray asked. “Where’s Marcia Price?”

And with that question, Zed decided Gray ranked up there with Max Hogan, the lieutenant of Night Storm. Both men had eyes in the back of their heads.

Aiden pointed to Zed, “He knows what’s going on with Marcia. He found one of the Brockman daughters, and she’s been begging him to go after the Price girl.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Gray demanded of Zed.

“When I found Debbie Brockman over near the latrine, she was hiding. She’d been hit in the head by an asshole named Raymond. She said he’s evil, and he has Marcia.”

“Do we know why he took her?” Gray asked.

“She told me more when I was treating her,” Aiden said. “This guy called Marcia an insurance policy. He also said that as long as he had her, he was assured a payoff.”

“Most of the targets took head shots, but not the SEAL, I want everyone to take a look at him, and see if we can identify him,” Gray said pointing to the corpse. Zed hoped he couldn’t. He didn’t want to think any man he had served with was capable of throwing his honor away. “Actually, take a look at everyone,” Gray corrected himself.

Everyone let Aiden go first, so he could get back to his patients. He made quick work of looking at the men. “Nada,” he said as he passed Gray heading into the hut with Harold Brockman. Everybody else made the same loop. Zed was last. He had another feeling, and when he looked down, he was right. The SEAL’s name was Sommers. They’d been at Jump School together down at Benning. He’d served on another team in Virginia. There’d been rumblings about him. Nothing that ever bubbled up to command, but rumblings about gambling and a couple of ex-wives.

“I’ve got a lock on him, Lieutenant. He was on one of the Virginia teams. Do we have time to make a call? If I can get ahold of my communications guy for Night Storm, he’ll have the four-one-one on this guy.”

“Why’s that important?” Gray asked.

“I want to know if this guy Raymond who has Marcia is a SEAL.”

Gray tilted his head toward Dex. “Dex, set him up to make his call.”

Dex was already standing with the satellite phone in his hand. “Here you go.”

It took a moment for Zed to remember Kane McNamara’s number since he had him programmed into his phone and didn’t have to dial it, but finally, he pulled it out of his memory banks and placed the call. After five rings, a disgruntled Kane answered the phone.

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Zed. I need info now.”

“It’s nice to hear from you too. I’m doing fine. Yes, the team misses you.”

“Cut the crap,” Zed growled. “Get to your fucking computer.”

“I’m here now. Ask your questions.”

Zed began to breathe a little easier. Dex was a nice guy, but he knew Kane’s capabilities, and the man was a fucking wizard. He could pull information out of thin air.

“I need information about a guy named Sommers.”

“Fuck, Zed, are you talking about the guy from Phantom Phoenix? I don’t need to go to my computer for that. He’s a loser. His lieutenant got rid of him. Made it so goddamn hard on him, the bastard ended up quitting.”

“Do you have any idea when that was? Do you know what happened to him afterward? Did he have an associate named Raymond?”

He heard Kane sigh. “It was three years ago in August. I remember because we were on that mission in Honduras, and Phoenix was supposed to act as back-up. But the rest of that shit I’m actually going to have to do a little digging, how soon do you need it?”

“Now.”

“Hold on.” He watched as Hunter, Wyatt, and Dalton started to drag the corpses into the barracks. Meanwhile, Dex was on his comp, reporting into command. Griff came out of a hut leading a woman who was hunched over. The woman had won a Nobel Peace Prize in physics and this slime had roughed her up? He shut his eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer. He’d like to say he couldn’t believe it, but he could. It was as if she felt his eyes on him. She looked over at him and gave him a small smile and nod. The mind boggled how sometimes the delineation between good and bad was so clear.

Griff gently settled her next to the Hoffs, so Aiden would eventually be able to look her over. The fact he was still in with Brockman was not a good sign.

“Okay, I have the info, and you’re not going to like it,” Kane’s voice was tense. “Fuck, I don’t like it.” Zed’s gut clenched. Kane never sounded upset. He was the most easygoing guy on the Night Storm team. This did not bode well.

“Tell me.”

“Felix Raymond made it through BUD/S third in his class. Hell, I have a copy of his file, there are notes up the ass about what a great SEAL he’ll be. That’s what makes the next part so bad.”

“What?”

“The night before the graduation ceremony, he was charged with murdering his girlfriend in San Diego. The public defender got him off.”

“Did he do it?”

“Oh, yeah, he did it, they got him off on a technicality. He’s a real piece of work, I’m looking at the psych profile they did on him. They’re saying he’s a sociopath.”

Zed recalled Marcia’s picture. He had to go after them.

“How is he connected to Sommers?” Zed asked.

“It looks like he and Sommers went to work for an outfit called Thorn International, basically another security firm that augments our troops, but they both left five months ago.”

“Kane, we have an issue here in Borneo. I’m going to hand this over to Dex Evans, he’ll fill you in. We need you to keep digging. I don’t think we know all the players yet, and we have to know them. I pray to God Raymond’s reporting to someone, so he’ll want to keep the girl he’s holding hostage in good shape.”

Zed slammed the phone against Dex’s chest, then stormed over to Gray. “I need to go after the Price girl and Raymond.”

Gray gave him an assessing look. “What did you find out?”

“Raymond passed BUD/S but didn’t get any further because of a murder charge. He went to work for Thorn International, it’s a―”

“I know Thorn,” Gray interrupted. “Did Raymond do the murder?”

“According to Kane, he was guilty but got off due to a technicality. He’s a sociopath. It’s worse because he killed his girlfriend, and now, he has a woman as a hostage. I’m hoping there are more players than just these assclowns,” Zed said as he waved his hand around the clearing.

“Brockman said a man named Kyle was the supposed leader, but he overheard him checking in with someone else. There’s a good chance there was someone outside of the jungle handling the money,” Gray informed him.

“Right now, Raymond thinks he has one of Brockman’s daughters, someone of value. He can’t ever know that isn’t true.”

“Let’s go talk to Brockman,” Gray said.

Zed didn’t want to, he didn’t want to waste another second when he could be following Raymond and getting Marcia out of that madman’s hands. He needed to do that.

“Zed,” Gray said sharply. “Brockman will have information we need.”

He nodded and walked swiftly to the hut. Aiden was bent over a prone older man who was obviously pissed.

“Stop fucking around. I’m fine. Where is my daughter, Debbie? Where is Marcia? I won’t ask you again.” It wasn’t often a man who was lying in the dirt could sound so commanding, but what else would you expect from one of the former top officials of the United States Intelligence branches?

“Debbie was hit in the head with the muzzle of a gun,” Gray said. Brockman’s head whipped around to glare at him. “My second in command, who is our medic, has determined she has a concussion. The less movement she does right now, the better.”

“Take me to her.”

“After I get your ribs bound,” Aiden said grimly. “You’re just going to be a detriment to us if we don’t get you taken care of.”

“You’re right,” Brockman said in a resigned tone. “What about Marcia?”

“Why don’t you go visit with your sister,” Gray suggested to the young girl who was holding her father’s hand. Brockman immediately caught on.

“Christie, go check on Debbie. Tell her I’m all right, okay?” She bent down and hugged her father’s neck. Zed watched as his jaw tightened with the pain, but he still put his arms around his daughter. Obviously giving her comfort was his first priority.

“Are you going to be all right?” she whispered.

“Fit as a fiddle,” he promised her. “Now go see your sister.”

All four men watched as the girl left the hut. As soon as she was gone, Brockman turned on Gray. “Report,” he commanded, his eyes flashing.

“Zed, you got the intel, you give the Director a summary,” Gray commanded.

Zed turned to the older man. “When we attacked, Marcia and Debbie were at the latrine with Raymond. According to Debbie, Marcia saved her from being taken as a hostage or getting shot. Instead, Marcia convinced Raymond to take her.”

Brockman’s fist pounded the dirt. “Raymond was the worst of the bunch,” Brockman said grimly. “I’m eternally grateful to Marcia for intervening.” He jabbed his finger in the air at Zed. “Now you fucking find her.”

He nodded. “I will,” Zed promised but didn’t move.

“What?” Brockman demanded.

“There’s more.”

“Tell me.”

“Raymond was in the Navy. He passed BUD/S with flying colors.”

Brockman’s expression turned even grimmer. “I hear a ‘but’.”

“But the night of graduation, he murdered his girlfriend. His lawyer got him off on a technicality.”

“Fuck. When was this?”

“Eight years ago, Sir. Since then, he has been working on assignments with Thorn International. One of the men who is dead out in the clearing was a SEAL as well. He and Raymond were both working for Thorne but quit five months ago.”

Brockman frowned. “Five months ago?”

“Yeah, why? Is that significant?” Gray asked.

Brockman pressed two fingers against his eyebrow, his stress evident. “It could be. How many others out there were our men?”

“So far, we’ve only identified one other. We’ve taken fingerprints of the rest and scanned them into command. Right now, getting you to safety is our number one priority,” Gray answered.

“But if you have information that could explain why we have a bunch of US Spec Ops taking you and your family hostage, you need to let us know.”

“I’m running some things off the books right now. You need a top-secret clearance to be briefed on the scope.”

Zed and Gray mirrored one another as they crossed their arms over their broad chests.

“With all due respect―” Zed began.

“Of course, I’m going to tell you,” Brockman bit out. “I’m just trying to get my thoughts together. I should never have allowed your man O’Malley to give me something for the pain.” Brockman was clearly pissed.

Zed relaxed.

“In no way could this ever be traced back to the US, it had to have total deniability. We know but haven’t been able to prove the Peaceful Kingdom Brotherhood in Malaysia is funneling funds to ISIS.”

“Shit. Doesn’t that cult have over one hundred fifty thousand members?” Zed asked.

“You’re not keeping up,” Gray sighed. “That was last year, it has to have grown by at least ten thousand since then.”

“His membership is nearing two hundred thousand,” Brockman corrected. “Afiq Zikri is like the Pied Piper, he’s getting Muslims and non-Muslims to join. Hell, there are centers popping up in places in the United States.”

“And you think he’s funding ISIS?” Gray asked.

“Not just that. We’re working on infiltrating his inner circle because we’re pretty sure he’s also tapping his most zealous recruits to join ISIS.”

“Meanwhile, we’ve got people around the world thinking he’s a cross-between Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi,” Zed said with disgust. Then he peered over at Brockman. “Are you working with Thorne for this?”

“Just peripherally. For the most part, they are too ham-handed.”

“What else are you working on? Or were working on, the thing that made you wince?” Gray asked.

“We had two ops, one that turned into a real goatfuck, and the other is still on-going. You heard about the prince’s palace in Saudi Arabia that was bombed?”

Zed and Gray looked at one another, then nodded.

“That happened on our watch. The Saudis had pulled almost one hundred thousand Yemen nationals visas and sent them back home. Hell, they’d been working in Saudi Arabia for years, sending money home, then suddenly they were without jobs, and forced back to their country that had no jobs waiting for them. What did they do? They joined Al-Qaeda. Who were they mad at? The Saudis. That’s how the Thorne Group got involved.”

“Explain,” Gray said.

“Off the books, we helped the Saudis employ the Thorne Group to put security in place. My job was to keep the Saudis and Thorne informed of imminent and credible threats. We helped them foil at least forty different Al-Qaeda attacks.”

It didn’t matter. Failure was never an option. He looked at Brockman and saw he lived by that motto as well.

“So that happened six months ago, right?” Gray said.

Brockman nodded.

“How many Thorne casualties?”

“Seventeen,” Brockman answered immediately. Yep, just as Zed suspected, Brockman took this personally.

“Did the people at Thorne know you were involved?” Zed asked.

“Just ownership. But if someone good really wanted to dig, I’m sure they could have found out,” Brockman sighed.

“And the last op?” Gray asked.

“This can’t be what it’s about. It just came about four weeks ago.” Brockman’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Zed demanded.

“Three weeks ago, Kyle and his men were selected to guard the yacht.”

“What’s the op?”

“Fissionable material was stolen from France.”

“Where’s it going? North Korea? Pakistan?” Gray asked.

Brockman gave both men a grim look. “Our source says Turkey.”

“Holy fuck,” Zed breathed out. “Are you sure?”

“No. But this source has been one hundred percent right for ten years. That’s why we’re following the material, instead of just reacquiring it. If someone in Turkey has gone rogue, we need to know about it.”

Zed thought about it. After Russia took over the Crimean peninsula and Turkey’s proximity to Iraq, he could see where factions within the country would think having a nuclear arsenal would be critical.

“You’re getting it,” Brockman nodded to him.

“Yeah,” Zed agreed. “I’m getting it, but I’m not liking it.”

“Why you? Why not have the C.I.A. work on this?” Gray asked.

“Plausible deniability. They need some distance on all of these ops in case they go south. But I’m using some of their people when needed.”

“So, these people who wanted you could have known about your involvement with current operations and wanted information on them, right?” Gray said.

“Yes.”

“Or they could have just been after you because you were the former NSA Director and wanted you, thinking you had knowledge of your previous job.”

Brockman nodded. “This is a fucking mess.”

“We need to find out who Kyle really was and who he was working for,” Gray said.

“Let’s hope they wanted you for your current stuff,” Zed said.

Brockman raised an eyebrow in question.

“Getting info on that shit is a hell of a lot more valuable to someone than some old shit you might have done at the NSA. That means they have more incentive to keep Marcia alive and use her as leverage over you.” Zed said.

“You’re right,” Brockman agreed. “So, who’s going after her?”

“I am,” Zed immediately responded.

Gray gave Zed a considering look, then turned to Brockman. “He’ll find her and bring her to safety.”

“I’m sure your Zed’s good. But you don’t understand, this Raymond, there’s something wrong with him. Can you spare two men?” Brockman asked.

“Zed will bring her back,” Gray said again.

Brockman pushed himself up the side of the hut, the only outward sign of pain were the beads of sweat that dripped down his temples. “How bad is it, Lieutenant? Are we going to be able to evacuate? I can make it with limited assistance.”

“No, Sir, you can’t,” Gray stated emphatically. “Neither can two others. We also have your daughters we’re concerned about. With all of you, this should take us about three days to get to the road that leads to the coast. There will be a helicopter evac there to take us to the USS Ronald Reagan.”

“And Marcia?”

“I’ll make sure she is taken to the Reagan as well,” Zed said with quiet assurance.

“I know she isn’t my daughter, but I think of her like one of my own. She’s special, Son.”

Zed looked the man dead in the eye. “I know.” He turned to Gray, “I need to go coordinate with Dex, and see if Kane has any more intel.”

Gray nodded.