the back of her throat, even as the comforting presence of the phone pressed into her hip.
Please, Lord, send help.
Gavin Black spoke into the radio. Though he was no longer an official Army Ranger, his skills were still as sharp as the day he’d left the unit. From his position just outside the compound, protected only by a hill of sand, he could hear the faint hum of the plane’s engine fifteen thousand feet above him. “It’s a go,” Gavin said into the headset. “Once you’re down, wait for my signal. Over.” He’d gone ahead, on the ground and at great risk to himself, to make sure the others could breach the compound in a way that would catch the occupants off guard—and give him and his team the advantage. Mere seconds would make the difference between life and death.
When the lieutenant general had called Gavin and requested his services, he hadn’t been able to refuse—and not just because of the man’s rank.
“My daughter’s been kidnapped,” he’d said, “taken by the Taliban from a school where she was a guest instructor. She, another teacher, and twelve female students are being held at a compound in the middle of the Registan Desert. The only way in without detection is to drop in at night.”
Registan Desert? There was more than one compound in that suffocating place. “Which compound, sir?”
“Hibatullah Omar’s. And they’re saying he’s behind the kidnapping.”
Gavin stilled. Of course it would be his. “That’s not possible. Omar’s dead.” Gavin had been a part of the raid that had led to his death. But another terrorist organization could have taken over the compound.
“Somehow he’s risen from the grave. We’ve received satellite footage that he’s up and running again. You know that compound. You lived there for over a year. Now that you’re a private contractor, I need you to put together a team and get Rochelle and the others out of there.”
Yes, he’d lived there. Working undercover as a terrorist, gaining the trust of one of the most horrific murderers in the Middle East. And Gavin had set him up to die. If Omar was truly alive, then he’d know about Gavin’s betrayal.
Already on the ground in Kabul for another reason, Gavin had dropped what he was doing and quickly navigated his team onto this assignment.
Rochelle Denning. Also known as Sarah. He’d met her in Kabul when they were deployed at the same time. Met her and found her fascinating. They’d gone out on three dates, shared an amazing kiss on the last date, and then she quit answering his calls and texts. Not one to tread where he wasn’t wanted, Gavin had let it go in spite of his confusion over her sudden cold shoulder.
The general had said that Caden already called his resources with the FBI, but they wouldn’t be much help in the Registan Desert.
His men would parachute far enough away to remain undetected, then make their way across the open fields of sand to the compound and to the north wall, where Gavin would meet them and lead them inside. With the night-vision goggles and binoculars, he could make out the entrance he’d used to come and go undetected when he was living at the compound.
“There’s no way that’s Omar,” Cole Lawton said, his voice clear in Gavin’s ear. “Over.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so either,” Gavin said, keeping his voice low, “but the pictures don’t lie. Over.”
“Dude, I saw his body. He was burned to a crisp. We’ve got pictures of that as well, remember? Over.”
“Yeah. Over.” And before they could extract that body for DNA testing, they’d come under fire and had to fight for their lives to make it to the waiting bird.
He blinked against the memories. Unlike many of the people he served with, he didn’t suffer nightmares often, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dwell on the stuff nightmares were made of.
“You think they know who they snatched?” Lawton asked. “That she’s Denning’s daughter? Over.”
“I sure hope not.” Because if those killers knew they had the daughter of one of the highest-ranking men in the US Army, there would be no saving her. He checked his watch, then the altitude of the plane. Just a few more seconds, then . . . , “It’s go time,” he said. “You know what to do. Over.”
“You sure this is going to work?”
“I’m sure.” Mostly.
“What’s Plan B? Over.”
“There is no Plan B. I don’t believe in them. Over.” With that, he lowered the night vision lens