damn hard since I’m not sure how I feel.”
Chasen grunted. “You’d better figure it out because she’s not going to be able to read your mind. If you don’t give her a reason to stay, she won’t.”
The sound of approaching boots in the darkness silenced them.
“Sit tight and keep an eye on things back here.” Chasen got to his feet. “I’m not sure how much I trust Joe’s people and I don’t want anyone slipping up behind us during the exchange.”
Chasen disappeared into the darkness, leaving Logan alone to worry about their six—and think about what he’d say to Felicia when he got back.
* * * * *
The exchange went better than Logan expected. Probably because Joe walked up with a big bag full of Turkish lira and tossed it on the ground in front of the Kurdish fighters. That had effectively ended the negotiations.
The pilot was younger than Logan expected, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He looked like he’d had a rough few weeks, too. His short dark hair stuck up in places, his dark eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep, and his flight suit was scuffed and torn. When he saw Logan and his Team, his whole demeanor changed. A spark that hadn’t been in his eyes before flared up now.
“He’s your responsibility until we get him out of the country,” Chasen said to Logan as the Kurds took their money and hightailed it out of there. “Stick to him like glue.”
Joe and Chasen turned and led the way west toward the helicopters waiting for them across the border in Turkey. From there, they’d fly straight to Incirlik Air Base then hop a C5 for home. If they didn’t run into any problems, they’d be back in the US in a day or so.
Logan and Nikolay stayed in the middle of the group, with Nash and Dalton taking the flanks while the SOG agents brought up the rear. Logan had been a little worried the pilot might hold them back since he was clearly exhausted, but he moved across the broken terrain as fast as Logan did. Apparently, he wanted to get out of this place as much as the rest of them.
They’d barely gone two miles when someone ambushed them. Logan jumped on Nikolay and drove him to the ground, shoving him behind a rocky outcropping and protecting him with his body as round after round of small arms fire slammed into the ground around them.
From the disciplined, controlled way the bad guys shot at them, Logan immediately knew they weren’t dealing with a ragtag collection of terrorists or Syrian military. The people shooting at them knew exactly what they were doing.
“It’s a Spetsnaz team,” Chasen said as he peppered the south ridgeline with slow, careful shots intended to make the bad guys duck and cover. “I don’t know how, but they must have known we’d be coming this way.”
“Fucking Kurds played both sides against the middle,” Joe muttered. “They took our money and probably the Russian’s, too, then told them know which way we went after the exchange.”
“What’s the plan?” Dalton shouted as he aimed the mini 40mm grenade launcher mounted on his M4 then popped a high explosive grenade toward the top of the north ridgeline.
“Get the pilot out of here alive,” Joe ordered.
* * * * *
Felicia was starting to think Hayley might be a saint when the journalist showed up at her apartment door Tuesday night with pizza and a movie, asking if she needed some company.
“Being alone when you’re stressed out is a bad idea,” Hayley told her as she set the pizza box on the island in the kitchen.
Felicia couldn’t argue with that. “I was about to call my sister and ask if she wanted to hang out. Do you mind if I invite her to join us?”
She felt horrible admitting it, but she’d been so caught up in her own crap, she hadn’t even realized she hadn’t talked to Stef since they had dinner together last week. She’d tried to call Stef a few times over the weekend, but had ended up having to leave messages on her voicemail.
“Of course not.” Hayley
Chasen grunted. “You’d better figure it out because she’s not going to be able to read your mind. If you don’t give her a reason to stay, she won’t.”
The sound of approaching boots in the darkness silenced them.
“Sit tight and keep an eye on things back here.” Chasen got to his feet. “I’m not sure how much I trust Joe’s people and I don’t want anyone slipping up behind us during the exchange.”
Chasen disappeared into the darkness, leaving Logan alone to worry about their six—and think about what he’d say to Felicia when he got back.
* * * * *
The exchange went better than Logan expected. Probably because Joe walked up with a big bag full of Turkish lira and tossed it on the ground in front of the Kurdish fighters. That had effectively ended the negotiations.
The pilot was younger than Logan expected, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He looked like he’d had a rough few weeks, too. His short dark hair stuck up in places, his dark eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep, and his flight suit was scuffed and torn. When he saw Logan and his Team, his whole demeanor changed. A spark that hadn’t been in his eyes before flared up now.
“He’s your responsibility until we get him out of the country,” Chasen said to Logan as the Kurds took their money and hightailed it out of there. “Stick to him like glue.”
Joe and Chasen turned and led the way west toward the helicopters waiting for them across the border in Turkey. From there, they’d fly straight to Incirlik Air Base then hop a C5 for home. If they didn’t run into any problems, they’d be back in the US in a day or so.
Logan and Nikolay stayed in the middle of the group, with Nash and Dalton taking the flanks while the SOG agents brought up the rear. Logan had been a little worried the pilot might hold them back since he was clearly exhausted, but he moved across the broken terrain as fast as Logan did. Apparently, he wanted to get out of this place as much as the rest of them.
They’d barely gone two miles when someone ambushed them. Logan jumped on Nikolay and drove him to the ground, shoving him behind a rocky outcropping and protecting him with his body as round after round of small arms fire slammed into the ground around them.
From the disciplined, controlled way the bad guys shot at them, Logan immediately knew they weren’t dealing with a ragtag collection of terrorists or Syrian military. The people shooting at them knew exactly what they were doing.
“It’s a Spetsnaz team,” Chasen said as he peppered the south ridgeline with slow, careful shots intended to make the bad guys duck and cover. “I don’t know how, but they must have known we’d be coming this way.”
“Fucking Kurds played both sides against the middle,” Joe muttered. “They took our money and probably the Russian’s, too, then told them know which way we went after the exchange.”
“What’s the plan?” Dalton shouted as he aimed the mini 40mm grenade launcher mounted on his M4 then popped a high explosive grenade toward the top of the north ridgeline.
“Get the pilot out of here alive,” Joe ordered.
* * * * *
Felicia was starting to think Hayley might be a saint when the journalist showed up at her apartment door Tuesday night with pizza and a movie, asking if she needed some company.
“Being alone when you’re stressed out is a bad idea,” Hayley told her as she set the pizza box on the island in the kitchen.
Felicia couldn’t argue with that. “I was about to call my sister and ask if she wanted to hang out. Do you mind if I invite her to join us?”
She felt horrible admitting it, but she’d been so caught up in her own crap, she hadn’t even realized she hadn’t talked to Stef since they had dinner together last week. She’d tried to call Stef a few times over the weekend, but had ended up having to leave messages on her voicemail.
“Of course not.” Hayley
Similar Books
