Kabul Province, Afghanistan

Rogan

"You ready to get some, Boggs?" Falcon asked as he peered into his scope from his prone position beside me.

"Hell yeah. He's an hour late."

A silhouette of a man, glowing iridescent green in my night vision, exited the front door to the compound and sauntered over to his waiting comrade. Four years since my wife's death, and only two guards separated me from my ultimate target, Mustafa Ahmed Hakim Osmani. Jericho.

I settled into position on the boards and focused my sight on the relief guard's temple. "Ready."

"Send it."

I pulled the trigger and sent one sailing. The relief guard's head jerked, a green mist of blood exploding from his skull.

"Got him," Falcon said. "Above the right eye."

The guard on duty lowered the body of his dead associate to the ground. He bobbed and dodged, trying to escape the invisible sniper fire. If he would just stay put for one second...

When his forehead stilled, I pulled the trigger.

"Hit," Falcon said. "Dead center."

The second guard stumbled and dropped to the dirt.

"Moving," I called through the comms.

The five men on my team and my dog followed me as I descended the stairs of the unit we were using as a hide.

We jogged silently through the moonless night in Kabul, taking cover between mud huts as we advanced. I checked the bodies of the guards outside Jericho's dwelling to make sure the bullets did their job. Yep, two bullets, two dead terrorists. Excellent. Now to the high-value target.

Diesel and Ruger scaled a wall to access the dwelling from the roof. The remaining three men took up positions around the perimeter as Blaze rigged the door to blow. "Fire in the hole!"

I pulled Takoda to my chest. Two simultaneous explosions blasted us, one at the front door, the other on the roof. The element of surprise gone, we had sixty seconds to get in, clear the building, and kill Jericho. I pinched the scruff of Takoda's neck and spoke in her ear. "Be careful, girl." I released her. "Search!"

She charged into the settling dust of the disintegrated door. When nobody shot her and nothing else exploded, we entered through the debris. Two women and three children huddled against the far wall. Oz and Blaze tied their hands behind their backs and forced them outside.

As I marched to meet Ruger and Diesel on the second floor, Takoda stopped and sniffed at a girl the guys had missed. She cowered on a cot with her arms over her head, her knees tucked under her. I grabbed her bicep and yanked her up.

"Ahh!" Nylon rope bound to her wrists pulled her back to the bed frame.

"Oh, dear God. Save me. Dear God. Watch over me. Please. Please," she chanted in a weak voice.

"Are you American?"

One wide eye peeked up at me over her shoulder. Patches of light skin showed through the dirt on her face. She nodded. "Help me."

The long sleeves and scalloped collar of her dress, while filthy and wrinkled, appeared to be Western-styled.

An American hostage? How the hell did we miss her during recon?

The first crack of a firefight sounded from upstairs. "Taking fire!" Ruger's yell echoed through the comms.

"Stay down. I'll come back for you." I released her arm.

Three men and I scaled the steps to the second level. From the stairwell, my mirror sight showed one enemy combatant firing wildly through the hole Ruger and Diesel had made in the roof.

"Mrasta!" I called help in Pashto. "Mrasta."

The gunfire stopped and the shooter poked his head out around the banister, looking in the direction of my voice.

I shot him in the chest. He hit the floor with a thud. I took point as we advanced to the second level. Ruger and Diesel dropped in from the hole in the roof and got in line.

We slipped into position on either side of the door that led to the only bedroom on the second floor. Lying prone, I used a corner scope to identify three insurgents in the room. "Open fire."

A hailstorm of shots flew through the doorway in both directions. When the firefight ceased, at least two enemy combatants lay dead. One man stumbled and swayed with his weapon pointed toward the ceiling. I shot him in the head. He rocked and dropped to the floor.

We entered the room to assess if we'd hit our target. I approached the closest body and pulled him to his back.

"That him?" Blaze asked.

"Not sure yet." I kneeled beside the body, pouring water over his face to clear the blood. His hair was black, not the gray we were looking for, his nose wider than the target's—the forehead too large. Not tall enough to be Jericho. His features matched Musab Al-Sayed, Jericho's oldest brother, the one we called Zulu.

"Not him."

"What the hell?" Blaze came up behind me.

"Not Jericho. That's Zulu."

"You gotta be shitting me."

I inspected the second body. "Not him either."

The third body was too short to be our target.

"You check the one on the stairwell?" I asked Blaze.

"Not Jericho." He grunted and turned away. "Damn."

Fuck. We didn't get him. "Move out. Blaze, rig it to blow."

He proceeded to set a charge in the corner of the room.

I ran for the door, stopping at the American girl. With a flick of my bowie knife, the rope snapped free from her wrists. I scooped her off the cot and charged to the exit.

"Sixty seconds!" Blaze called.

"Koda, come!"

We filed out of the dwelling and raced the three hundred yards to the extraction point. The impact blasted our backs and propelled us forward. The helo touched down, and the entire six-man team boarded like clockwork.

I set the girl on the bench at the rear of the helo and whistled for Takoda out the door.

"Stand by. My dog isn't here."

The pilot held up his hand, indicating he'd heard me.

"Let's move," Blaze said as I leaped to the ground.

"Not without Takoda." The rotor wind pummeled me as I ran five yards east, scanning the horizon for any sign of her. Nothing.

"Koda!" My call died in the void. Where the hell was she?

There. Fifty yards to the west, a pair of eyes glinted and bounced. Is that her? Yes! Takoda galloped full-tilt toward me, the wind blowing her fur at a sharp angle away from her flanks. We hopped in the helo.

"Go!"

The pilot lifted off. Falcon slammed the door shut, cutting down the rotor noise with a sharp thud. I stowed my weapons and strapped Takoda's harness to a belt. "Where were you, girl?"

She panted, her tongue hanging.

"Good dog." I patted her head.

At least I didn't lose her.

I pulled off my headgear and inspected my team for injuries. Diesel sat on the floor, his face and neck smeared with blood. Ruger kneeled in front of him with his medical kit open.

"How is he?" I asked Ruger.

"Shrapnel grazed his cheek. It's not too deep." Diesel winced as Ruger pressed gauze to his face.

"You got lucky, my friend," I said to Diesel.

"Not a big deal," Diesel replied. "Yolanda's gonna kill me."

"Nah, she gets you back alive, she'll be happy."

"What the hell is that?" Blaze pointed to the girl cowering on the bench.

I glanced at her. "She's American." Trembles wracked the girl's body. I grabbed a blanket and covered her.

"You don't know that."

"Look at her. She spoke English to me. We had to get her out," I replied.

"Sure we did."

"We don't leave hostages behind. We don't leave our dog behind. You're amped up and talking nonsense."

"No. You got fucking issues with female hostages."

The movement in the cabin stilled. Five pairs of eyes zeroed in on me.

"Don't go there, Blaze." I towered over him.

He rose to his feet and sneered. "A weakness. Puts us all at risk."

"Rescuing her was low risk. I made the call."

"She ain't her, ya know."

My bones hummed with righteous fury and all my muscles coiled, ready to strike down this insolent ass. Our vests mashed together as I pushed right up in his stupid face. "Shut the fuck up! You're outta line."

"She ain't her, Boggs. Eden's dead. She's been dead four years."

Through the red haze filling my vision, I nailed his chin with a vicious right hook. He didn't expect it, didn't block. He rubbed his jaw and squinted at me.

"Go ahead, Blaze. Hit me back. Let's see who's left standing at the end."

Falcon wedged a shoulder between us. "Hey! That's enough. Sit down."

Blaze broke eye contact as Falcon forced me to sit.

With my elbows on my knees, I peered down at my boots.

I would not lose my shit.

We didn't get Jericho.

Failure. Unacceptable.

I tugged at the straps of my flak vest and anchored myself in the armor.

At least we got Zulu. And a fucking hostage.

She ain't her.

Eden's dead.

This girl wasn't Eden. She didn't die at the hands of terrorists. This girl will live.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck." The image of Eden's bloody corpse in my arms threatened to rob me of my sanity again.

"Lock it down, Boggs."

I lifted my head and linked eyes with Falcon. "I got it," I gritted out through my clenched jaw. I tucked the image away in a storage pocket and locked the snap.

Gone.

Falcon stared at my fists until I released my grip on my vest.

The girl shuddered under the blanket and snuck a furtive glance at me.

"Ruger, check her condition," I called.

Ruger grabbed his kit and walked to her with his shoulders down and knees bent.

"No! No!" She recoiled against the seat and pulled the blanket up to her face.

I held my hand up for Ruger to back off. He stopped and headed back to his seat.

"Hey." She shrank down when I tapped her back through the blanket. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"How old are you?"

No answer.

"Why were you in Afghanistan?"

She chewed her lip, her gaze darting around the cabin. "Are you soldiers?" She glanced at my unmarked fatigues then focused on my beard.

"Yes. You're safe. We won't hurt you. You need to give me some info, so I can get you back where you belong."

I could barely hear her weak voice. "I... My church..."

"You here with your church?"

She nodded.

"Where are they based?"

"Karachi."

"We can return you to Pakistan. Are they still in Karachi?"

"I don't know."

"Where's your family? The States?"

She nodded again. She needed to get home. We couldn't leave her here.

I surveyed the faces of each of my men. "She's coming with us."

"You gotta be kidding me. You're gonna blow the roof off this whole mission for her?" Blaze was a pain in my ass tonight.

"She doesn't know who we are. We return her to her family in the States anonymously. She'll keep quiet."