Breaking Away (Delta Force Strong #3) - Elle James Page 0,41

motioned to Big Bird. "Take him."

The biggest, strongest man of the team, Big Bird lifted their target and flung him over his shoulder.

Still fighting to catch his breath, Tuck led the way back to the fence. Once outside the building, he scanned his surroundings and then checked back up at the top of the roof. No signs of enemy snipers. But that didn't mean they were in the clear. They still had to navigate their way out of town and get back to the helicopter.

Leading the way, with Gator and Fish guarding the rear, Tuck hurried back along the narrow street to the outer walls of the village where the helicopter hovered nearby, waiting for their signal.

Tuck blinked the flashlight outfitted with a red lens at the hovering aircraft and it moved in, setting down for the briefest of moments, enough to get the six-man team inside. He reached over the back of the seat to the pilot and shouted, "Go!"

The Black Hawk lurched into the air, rising up and moving forward at the same time, hurrying to gain as much altitude as possible as they disappeared into the night sky, out of enemy sight and weapons range.

Not until they were well out of reach did Tuck release the breath he'd been holding and take stock of his team and their prisoner. All of them made it out alive and intact. That's the way he liked it. He'd been the only one who would have sustained injury if he hadn't been equipped with armor plating.

The co-pilot handed Tuck an aviation headset and he slipped it on.

"Nine minutes, twenty-five seconds." Gunnery Sergeant Sullivan's raspy voice sounded in Tuck's ear. "Better, but still not fast enough."

This had been a training mission, one they'd repeated five times in the past two weeks. Someone wanted them to get it right. The team was improving, but still needed to be quieter, faster, and more aware when the mission was real. The people they'd shot tonight had only been tagged with lasers. If this mission went live, the ammunition used against them would be live rounds.

Leaning back, Tuck held up nine fingers for his team to see and understand the repercussions of wearing out their welcome in a Taliban-held village.

The men nodded. Noise from the rotors precluded talking inside the chopper. When they got back to the base at Little Creek, Virginia, they'd debrief before being dismissed for the night and hitting the club.

They'd played the same scenario five times, improving with each iteration. All six members of the team were highly skilled Navy SEALs. The cream of the crop, the most highly disciplined officers and enlisted men from the Navy.

Like Tuck, the team was tired of playing pretend. They wanted to get in and do the job. But, like most missions, they didn't know when they would go, who their target would be, or where they'd have to go to take him out. Only time and their commanding officers would tell. Only when they were about two hours out would they get their final orders and all the details.

In the meantime, they'd be off duty until the following morning's PT, unless orders came in that night. It happened. But if Tuck waited around his apartment for it to come about, he'd go stir-crazy. Besides, he wanted to see O'Connell and pick up where they'd left off the night before.

Back at base, Delaney O'Connell climbed out of the pilot's seat and grabbed her flight bag. Adrenaline still thrumming through her veins, she knew going back to her apartment for the night wasn't an option.

Her co-pilot, Lt. Mark Doggett, aka K-9, fell in step beside her. "The team's headed to DD's Corral for a beer and some dancing. I know you don't usually like to hang out, but it's been a tough week. Wanna go?"

"Sure," she said, a little too quickly. Any other time, she'd have cut him off with a quick, but polite, no. But if she went back to her apartment alone, Tuck might show up and what good would that bring? Somehow, she'd fallen off the abstinence wagon with a vengeance and she was having a hard time getting back on.

"Great." K-9 cleared his throat. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you. I prefer to drive myself."

"Probably a good idea. These Navy guys work hard and play harder."

As well she knew. Tuck had played her in bed like a musician played an electric guitar, hitting every one of her chords like a master.

Her body