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Henri watched the scenery pass as the Land Rover jolted along the pothole-infested dirt road while hot air whipped through the open sunroof. The area was hilly and covered with scrubby trees which made things a bit uncomfortable for a sniper. She preferred to have the best ground advantage with a wide view of the area. She also preferred to have her Win Mag in her hands with a half-dozen spare magazines in her bulletproof vest. Presently, she didn’t have a rifle, ammo or vest, which made her all the more on edge.

“I thought you said they have guns?” Henri whispered in Mike’s ear.

He pointed downward. “Hidden compartment.”

“Caliber?”

“Whatever they got.”

“Ammo stores?”

“Hali’s instructions were to come prepared. He kens what that means.” Mike reached over and patted her thigh. “Relax. Things have settled down in this region.”

Right. Settled down with the border closed? Henri might believe him once they were on a plane out of there. In the meantime, she was formulating a plan in her head. Keeping her comrades alive had been her job in the Army. She was hardwired to it. And knowing Mike, he was playing up the relax thing for her benefit, which was stupid. He knew her past.

It was late afternoon when Hali announced they’d crossed the border. Mike blew out a long breath and gave Henri a wink.

She almost shared in his relief until they drove around a hill sloping to a thicket. Perfect place for a mob of thugs to stage a holdup.

“Tollbooth,” Hali said over his shoulder.

“Pay them off.” Mike glanced at Henri and moved his fingers down to the floor mat. He lifted it up, grabbed a Glock and inserted a magazine, hiding the gun in his belt. She did the same, spying an arsenal of M4s and ammo as he replaced the false bottom. “Insurance,” Mike said.

Henri nodded. There had been plenty of road patrols in Afghanistan and they all wanted one thing. Money. If you didn’t pay up or blew through their barricade, there was certain to be an ambush waiting somewhere down the track.

The guards were all dressed in camo gear and carried AK-47s. “Military?” she asked.

Mike craned his neck. “Probably rebel forces or crooked police.”

“I thought you said the civil unrest had settled in these parts.”

“I did, but that doesna mean there isna any.” He gave her a look. “My guess is these assholes ken the border’s closed and there’d be dupes like us who will try another route.”

“Great.” Henri rubbed her fingertips together, itching for a chance to put her hands on the cold steel of one of the rifle barrels beneath her feet.

Hali brought the Land Rover to a stop and rolled down the window. “Hodi.”

Henri glanced back. A pair of men toting AKs moved to the driver’s side of the second Land Rover.

Four men remained by the lead Land Rover, two on the passenger side and two on the left. The man in charge was the largest. He was a mean-looking man with an ugly scar on his cheek. He sauntered back, shouting at Hali in Swahili. Henri couldn’t understand a word, but the guys with the guns looked like a mob of angry sons-of-bitches—not much different from Taliban rebels in Afghanistan.

“You ready?” she asked Mike.

“Always ready. But Hali will handle it. He’s a pro.”

“Good thing, because it’s not going to be easy to pull out the M4s without those Rambo wannabes noticing.”

“Give them the cash,” Mike growled, looking out the window.

The man doing most of the yelling pointed his rifle at Hali’s chest. The tall Kenyan held up his hands and backed to the driver’s seat door. After popping it open, he ducked his head inside. “Just getting the dough, boss.”

“Give it to them and get us the hell out of here!” Mike said through clenched teeth.

The irate guard poked his head inside the SUV, his gaze shooting straight to Henri. The bastard licked his lips and cracked a smile.

She glared back.

Mike made a show of sliding his arm across her shoulders.

Hali blocked the man’s view when he straightened and handed over an envelope.

After checking the contents, the asshole launched into another round of shouting, this time pointing to Mike and Henri and carrying on like they were about to cross the border with a boatload of IEDs.

“Blast it. Cover me.” Mike stepped out of the car. “What’s the problem? Isna there enough cash?” He led the guard to the front of the vehicle.

When all eyes shifted away from the backseat, Henri quickly yanked away the carpet and shifted up the false floor. With no time to examine the equipment, she snatched an M4 and a magazine. Thank God Hali was better equipped than the commandos outside. The only problem was the guns were in the Land Rover. She glanced back to the rear truck—those two guards were standing either side of the Rover, hands on their weapons pointed at the ground, trigger fingers straight. They weren’t expecting a fight but, still, she could only pray the men inside the vehicle had enough sense to arm themselves.

“What are they arguing about now?” she asked.

Pili regarded her over his shoulder. “You, missus.” Waist high, he slid a Glock into her view. “Bad men.”

“Can you handle the two on your side?” she asked.

“Ya, missus.”

Sliding across the seat, Henri reached for the latch but it slipped from her grasp as the leader yanked open the door. Yelling something imperceptible, he reached inside, his ugly face contorted by a sneer. In a heartbeat, the predatory glint in his eyes soon turned to wide-eyed terror as she lined up the sights of the M4.

“Now!” she shouted, pulling the trigger and hitting the bastard from point-blank range in the chest with a 45mm bullet. The force of the blast picked him up and catapulted him fifteen feet away.

From the front seat, Pili’s Glock fired, but his man was only clipped.

Mike reached for his pistol, but one of the guards swung into motion. The Scot grabbed the AK’s muzzle and wrenched it from the man’s hands. Bellowing like a madman, the guard tackled Mike to the ground.

Repeating fire erupted around them.

With no cover anywhere, Henri darted up through the sunroof, took out the second guy on right, turned and shot the two standing by the rear Land Rover. Whipping around, she set her sights on Mike’s man. The two were rolling on the ground, fists flying. With a pistol in his hands, Hali couldn’t get off a shot without risking a hit to the boss.

Mike threw a punch. His opponent’s head snapped back as he rolled away and pulled a knife.

Henri didn’t wait. She aimed between the eyes and stopped the bastard before he had a chance to lunge.

Silence swarmed through the air as the echo of her last shot faded. Not even a bird chirped. Mike stood and brushed himself off.

“Nice shooting, missus,” said Hali.

She looked at Mike. “Are you still pissed that I came?”

“Oh, aye, I’m hotter than a hornet. Once the bastard saw you he reckoned you’d make a fine contribution to the toll.” He glanced to the dead man with the knife. “On top of that, I aim to wrap my fingers around a bottle of whisky and get good and pissed as soon as we take out the ambush up ahead.”

Henri slid through the sunroof and down to the seat. Jerk. She’d show him. Eventually. No, the ambush wasn’t her fault, but they might have gotten away without a fight if she hadn’t been there.

Fuck it.

For now, she had more problems to conquer than proving her worth. Mike was right. These thugs always had friends. She slipped out the door and looked him dead on. “Okay, ace. What’s plan B?”