Chapter 1

Mexico

Present day…

John "Rocky"Rockland scanned the area through the lenses of his mounted sites. The HK416 secured in his grasp felt familiar. Comfortable, even. Like a long-lost friend coming home to visit.

Just like old times, eh, sweetheart?

"Delta Three, do you have a shot on either of the interior tangos?" Christian Hunt's low voice traveled through their Ops-Core FAST SF high-cut helmet system.

"Negative, One," Rocky answered his team leader. "Not without risking the hostages."

Adjusting his position, he shifted his elbows in the dirt to avoid a collection of tiny rocks embedded in the ground where he lay. Sweat rolled slowly down Rocky's spine, and a small drop dangled from his brow.

But just as he had countless times before, he ignored the annoying sensation and kept his eyes—and his gun—trained on the small building he and his team had been hired by Homeland Security to find. And on the inside were the four innocent souls they'd come here to save.

Two men. Two women. All volunteers who'd been attacked and taken captive by six guerilla militants in hopes of cashing in a fat ransom.

The men being held were local doctors who had recently partnered to start an urgent care clinic in one of Tijuana"s more destitute areas. A place where families could go for basic medical care that wouldn't require miles of travel while injured or ill.

Both of the women who'd been taken were part of the volunteer group that helped keep the clinic afloat. One was an Australian nurse, and the other…an American doctor.

They took one of ours, and we're damn well getting her back.

Every innocent life in that building mattered to Rocky and the others. Of course, they did. But knowing an American citizen was among those taken only added fuel to their determination to take these assholes down.

"Delta Two? What about you?" Christian asked his second-in-command. "How's your guy looking?"

Brody King quickly responded with a frustrated, "Bastard won't stay still long enough for me to get a lock on his ass. They've got the hostages on the floor against the back wall. Wrists and ankles bound. He keeps pacing back and forth in front of them and waving his gun toward them like he's gonna shoot."

"I see him, too," Rocky growled. "Asshole's purposely taunting them."

And from the smile on the man's tan face, he was getting off on the captives' fear.

Not that the HT's behavior was surprising. Not when, nine days ago, the asshole and his five buddies had stormed their clinic without provocation.

According to Homeland's intel, the tangos waltzed inside, killed two volunteers and a patient, stole a bunch of drugs and supplies, and then forced the four hostages they had now into the back of a cargo truck.

Then, just for fun, the dickheads had set fire to the clinic before leaving it—and their victims—to burn as they sped away.

"Have I mentioned how much I'm looking forward to taking down these pieces of shit?" Brody asked no one in particular.

You and me both, brother. You and me both.

Every man on the team shared the former SEAL's sentiment. Brody was also spot on in his assessment of their targets. The guys they'd hunted down were pieces of shit.

Through and fucking through.

"I have a partial view of the hostages, too," Christian informed them. "We need to get them into position soon, or we'll be forced to go to Plan B."

Plan A was definitely the better option. Quick. Easy. And almost zero risk to those being held captive. Plan B, however…

"Give us a couple more minutes, Boss," Rocky requested on the team's behalf. "Our boy's bound to get tired of walking back and forth."

If the guy would just move near one of the windows already, they could go with Plan A—a simultaneous kill. It was the most ideal option for both the team and the hostages. As for the HTs…

Rocky and the others were more than ready to give them a one-way ticket straight to Hell.

When Christian didn't immediately respond to Rocky's request for more time, Cade Ellis—the team's youngest member and one hell of a sniper—spoke through the comms.

"Delta One," Cade spoke directly to their team leader. "I have a possible shot on the northwest side of the building. But I could get a much cleaner line of sight if I move in a few yards."

"Do it." The order came through quietly. "Delta Three, why don't you?—"

"Already moving, Boss," Rocky read the man's mind.

He was the closest to Cade's position, so it made sense for him to shift over to keep an eye on his teammate's six.

While Cade silently trekked down the small hill toward the building, Rocky moved several yards due north. Setting up shop almost halfway between his original position and the spot where Cade had just left, Rocky got back down onto his belly before re-aligning his rifle and efficiently readjusting his sights.

Meanwhile, Christian continued going down the line, gathering the remaining team members' updates…

"Five?"

"My guy's still guarding the north side of the building," Liam Cutler answered promptly. "He just took a piss, and now he's lighting up another cigarette. All I need is the green light, and he will no longer be a problem."

Before Christian could respond, Jagger Brooks—the final and most unpredictable member of Delta Team—jumped in with his own update.

"Let me save y'all some time," the former Air Force combat controller drawled. "I've got two to pick from. The guy by the door…though he doesn't really count, since he's technically our fearless leader's target…and one of the two assholes inside. Now, that unsuspecting idiot is currently sitting in a chair, and while I'm almost certain he's supposed to be watching the hostages, he's spent the last seven minutes with his face in his phone. I could take them both out right now if given the order."

"Think that's enough?" Cade asked, his words coming a bit breathy as he laid down in a patch of grass between the building and where Rocky lay in wait. "I mean, we hit the five out here, the sixth guy might surrender."

"He might." Brody's deep voice sounded. "But I think it's too risky. The four tangos around the perimeter are no-brainers. But if we only manage to take down one of the two guarding the hostages inside, there's no way to predict how the remaining HT will react."

Damn. King was right. The hypothetical remaining hostage taker could surrender. Or the prick could drop to the ground in the fetal position, cry for his mommy, and beg them not to shoot. And while it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened…

"Two's right," Christian agreed with Brody. "Five of the fuckers may be easy, but that one that's left standing may decide to take out as many hostages as possible before we're able to get inside and stop him."

And that was a risk they simply couldn't take.

Silence filled Rocky's built-in comms system, and he didn't have to be psychic to know what the others were thinking. No one on the team was willing to risk even a single innocent life. Not when their sole purpose for coming to Tijuana was to locate and rescue the hostages.

Not just some of them. All of them.

The part where they got to rid the world of six heartless, murdering sons of bitches who valued money over human life, well, that was just icing on the cake.

"Uh…Boss?" Cade's tone was laced with concern. "We may have no other choice but to go with Plan B."

"Why?" Christian responded immediately. "What are you seeing?"

"I'm not exactly sure. One of the male hostages is sitting next to the American doctor. The two seem to be engaged in a pretty heated, but silent, exchange."

"Heated how?" Liam asked before anyone else had the chance.

"Every time the HT looks away, Dr. Rawlins swings her head toward the local doc and the two begin mouthing words back and forth to one another. While I can't be sure, it seems as if the man is planning to do…something. Try to attack the HT would be my guess. But whatever it is, Rawlins is trying damn hard to change his mind."

Ah, hell.

The last thing any of them needed was for a hostage to play hero. That shit hardly ever ended well for anyone. Especially the rogue hostage.

Something Dr. Kerrigan Rawlins—a thirty-three-year-old emergency room doc from Chicago—also seemed to understand.

A low curse reached Rocky's ear before he heard Christian's frustrated voice once more. "Is the Rawlins woman keeping the guy in check?"

"Don't think so," Cade cut the man short. "She's trying, but he already managed to get his ankles untied without detection. So help me, he does this…ah, Christ. What the fuck is this guy thinking? He's going to end up getting her—" He stopped himself short to clear his throat before continuing with, "Damn it, he's going to end up getting them all killed."

There was more emotion present in the former Green Beret's tone. A darker edge that wasn't typically present during an op.

He's probably just as pissed as you are about the fact that these fuckers are holding an American citizen for ransom.

And from the sounds of things, that same American—along with the other innocent lives hanging in the balance—was being put at even more risk than before by a guy who'd clearly reached the end of his proverbial rope.

Rocky slid his crosshairs in a steady glide back and forth between the HT and the hero wanna-be. He got that the middle-aged doctor was probably scared out of his wits and wanted nothing more than to get home to his family.

But brave as it may be, if the desperate man didn't stop and think things through, he could very well end up getting himself and several others killed.

"He's right, Boss." Rocky continued watching the anxious hostage closely. Through his scope, he could see the sweat beading on the terrified man's forehead. He could almost feel the guy's desperation for freedom and safety.

But it was the look in the man's brown eyes that had his trigger finger twitching…

Fear.

Despair.

Determination.

He's going to do it. The idiot is actually going to try to?—

"I think he's going to do it," Cade parroted Rocky's thoughts. "Fuck me running. Dr. Rawlins is trying like hell, but…goddamnit! The guy's…shit! He just stood up, and he's charging toward the?—"

The sound of a muffled gunshot came from inside the building as Rocky watched the disheartening scene unfold through his scope.

Just as Cade had relayed to the others, the frantic doctor had waited until the HT turned his back to pace in the opposite direction. When he did, the local doctor jumped up, ran toward their one captor, and threw his entire body on the guy's back.

The two men struggled for the weapon, but only for a few seconds. That's all the time it took for the HT to regain control and shoot the man in the chest.

Now, there were only three hostages in need of saving…and Rocky and his team were left with no other choice but to act. Following another low curse, Christian gave the only order left to give…

"Plan B, it is."

The directive was clear and without question. The alternative plan simple. And each man on the team knew exactly what they needed to do.

"Delta Four," Rocky spoke directly to Cade. "You got the shooter?"

"Affirmative," Ellis confirmed.

"Copy that. I've got our guy out here," Rocky referred to the guard standing near the building's northeast corner.

"On my mark!" Their team leader called out. "Three…two…one!"

With the countdown having ended and their targets in sight, Rocky and the others pulled their triggers. Less than a second later, all four of the tangoes standing guard along the building's exterior—along with the man who'd just shot and killed the unarmed hostage inside—were dead.

Several screams could be heard as the hostages began to panic. Though he only had a partial view, Rocky could tell the only remaining target had just stood from his chair.

Countless scenarios ran through Rocky's head at once. The man could come out and surrender. He could take himself out before they got a clear shot. Or the one that had them all moving with purposeful caution…

He could start killing the remaining hostages.

Unwilling to let that last one happen, the six-man team moved in for the final kill.

"Anyone gets a clean shot, take it!" Christian ordered.

Seconds later, they heard Jagger's taunting, confident tone…

"Gotcha."

The bullet was silent as it pierced the air from Jagger's MK 20 Mod 0 Sniper Support Rifle. Cutting a perfect hole through the south window, the 7.62 NATOrifle cartridge flew with deadly precision as it made its way into the remaining tango's head.

Inside, Rocky could tell the hostages were frozen with utter confusion and fear.

"Go, go, go!" Christian shouted for the team to move.

No longer concerned with being heard or seen, Rocky and the others raced toward the building. As they did, Rocky, Cade, Liam, and Brody stopped to ensure the four tangos that had been guarding the perimeter were no longer a threat. With those four deaths confirmed, Christian and Jagger breached the building's only door.

Rocky and the others were seconds behind.

"Easy, folks." Christian was lowering his weapon and removing his helmet and shooting glasses as Rocky walked in. "We're Americans, and we're here to take you all home."

Tears and wails of relief filled the small space as the hostages realized their terrifying nightmare was finally over. The Australian woman rushed Christian and Jagger, giving them hugs and thanking God for having answered their prayers.

"You're…Americans?" The woman standing cautiously near the room's far corner watched them carefully.

Her long blonde hair hung limply around her shoulders, its disheveled appearance matching the torn and dingy jeans, dirty sneakers, and ripped black t-shirt.

"We are." Christian offered the woman a friendly smile.

"You're Americans," she repeated the words again as if she couldn't quite comprehend the notion.

Rocky stood to the side and watched as Cade began taking cautious steps toward the confused woman.

"That's right." His teammate lifted a palm as a show of good intent. A muscle in the young sniper's jaw twitched when he took in the injuries to her face, but a fraction of a second later, Cade blinked and offered her a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Rawlins."

Stunned, the attractive blonde's big, almond-shaped green eyes grew wide. "H-how do you know my name?"

"We're with the American government," Christian explained patiently. "We were sent here to bring you home."

Technically true, since they were here at Homeland's behest.

"Dr. Rawlins, I don't know if you remember me…" Brody joined in next. Removing his helmet, he used his free hand to palm the mussed hair on the top of his head. "I brought my girlfriend into the E.R. a few months back after suspecting she'd been drugged. She goes by Ro, but her name is actually?—"

"Aurora." Dr. Rawlins's eyes shimmered with recognition. "Aurora Weber. And you're…Brody."

Brody blinked as one corner of his bearded mouth turned upward with a sideways grin. "Wow. That's, uh…" He cleared his throat. "That's some memory you have there, Doc."

He was rewarded with a ghost of a smile. "So I've been told."

But even as the tension visibly eased in her wary shoulders, the woman's pretty eyes remained haunted by a look Rocky had seen far too many times. Like the two other remaining hostages, dark shadows of exhaustion and fear marred the delicate skin beneath them.

"We have two transport vans waiting half a mile from here," Brody told Dr. Rawlins and the others. "We understand you're exhausted, and if anyone's injured or is unable to make it that far?—"

"We can walk." Florence Cohen, the Australian nurse, stepped forward. Glancing back at the only male hostage to survive the ordeal, the sixty-year-old aid worker said to the man, "Isn't that right, Felipe?"

Resting his knees next to his fallen colleague, Felipe Alfaro brought his heartbroken, watery gaze up to hers. "Yes. I can walk." The fifty-eight-year-old man's voice was rough, the single nod he gave almost wooden in its delivery as his gaze fell back down to the man lying dead before him. "But w-what about Emil?" Those tortured eyes searched those staring back at him for an answer. "We can't just leave him here. Not like this."

Emiliano Martinez was the name of the murdered hostage, and it was clear to Rocky and the others that Felipe cared a great deal about his friend.

"Emil's body will be delivered to his family," Jagger promised the mourning man. "You have our word on that. But first, we need to get the three of you to safety."

Rocky could tell Felipe wanted to argue, but thankfully, the educated man understood what had to be done. Leaning down, he placed a palm to Emil's forehead and began whispering something in his fallen friend's ear.

When he was finished, Felipe made the sign of the cross before kissing his thumb and pushing himself back up to his feet.

"All right." Thick emotion tightened the man's shaky voice. "Now, we may go."

Rocky and his fellow teammates gave the man a nod before escorting the three survivors out of the building. From there, they immediately began the half-mile trek to their awaiting vehicles, doing their best to shield the hostages' view of the bodies as they went.

The group's movements were slower due to the weakened state of those they'd rescued, but the men of Delta were understanding and patient. And it was with silent mouths and somber hearts that Rocky and his fellow teammates led three of the four kidnapped souls to freedom.

Four hours later,the men of Delta Team were back in the air and well on their way back to the States. With Jagger behind the controls of Homeland's large, ultra-long-range private jet, and Liam warming the co-pilot's seat, Rocky and the others were in their usual seats in the plane's spacious cabin.

After a quick conference call with Homeland, they confirmed their delivery of Felipe and Florence to their respective homes, and that Dr. Rawlins was safe and under the watchful eye of the team. There'd be an official debriefing later, but that would take place behind closed doors and out of civilian earshot.

Each team member would also have to write up a report detailing the op from start to completion, but Rocky planned to catch a few Zs before tackling that particular job.

Movement pulled his attention to the right in time to see Cade get up from his seat across the aisle and head to the back. At first, Rocky assumed the other man was heading to the jet's bathroom, but then the thirty-year-old sniper inexplicably sat in a different seat further back.

By himself.

Near the rear of the jet.

That's…odd.

Having chosen a window seat at the very back, the Rawlins woman had kept to herself since first boarding the plane. It wasn't uncommon after surviving an ordeal like the one she and the other two hostages had just experienced, and Rocky and the others understood her need to be alone better than most.

Which was why Cade's choice to move closer to her was confusing.

Rocky thought back to the top, replaying the op from the moment they'd entered the building to now. Specifically, he tried to pull memories of Cade's demeanor during the last part of their night.

The way his teammate had cautiously approached Dr. Rawlins immediately following the raid on the men who'd been holding her and the others captive. Rocky considered the guy's gentle tone…the look on his face…the way he'd walked protectively near her during their hike to the vans. And now…

Rocky slid his young teammate an indiscernible glance from over his shoulder. Cade's head was turned, and it appeared he was staring at nothing through the small, oval window to the man's right.

But even from here, the other man's clean-shaven reflection was clear as day to see. And Cade's focus…it wasn't on the never-ending black sky. It was on the reflected image of the woman curled up in her seat a couple rows back.

Ah,hell. Not again.

Rocky had already bore witness to two of his teammates falling hard in the midst of danger. Christian and his wife, Megan—who also happened to be Brody's little sister—had gotten together when she became the target of a killer after a good deed made her a potential witness.

Not long after, Brody fell boots over ass for Megan's best friend, Ro, while protecting her from a man who turned out to be a ghost from Brody's past. A man who'd drugged Ro, prompting her and Brody's visit to the E.R., where Dr. Rawlins happened to work.

It really is a small world, after all.

Thankfully, both of Rocky's friends—and the women they loved—survived the horrific ordeals. As for the assholes who'd tried hurting Megan and Ro, those guys were all dead, buried, and burning in Hell.

Where they belong.

Fast-forward to today and Christian and Megan had already been married almost a year, and Brody was planning to pop the question to Ro any day now.

See? Everything worked out for those guys. If they can make a relationship work…

Rocky settled back into his plush leather seat. Would he love to meet a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? Sure. Did he see that happening in the near future? Not a chance.

Not when his life revolved around work and his most recent investment. Speaking of…

He pulled out his phone and opened the Notes app. Tapping the one containing the list of things he needed to do around the house, Rocky began arranging the tasks from highest priority to lowest.

First on the list…

Fix the roof.

A deep sigh dropped his shoulders and deflated his chest. Real estate was supposedly one of the soundest investments a person could make, but after spending the last six months' worth of free time peeling wallpaper, painting trim, and replacing every window in the two-story Craftsman-style bungalow he'd purchased, Rocky was beginning to question his decision to move from his worry-free apartment.

He glanced at his watch and inwardly groaned. The flight from Iraq to the States was a little over fourteen hours. They'd already been in the air a good hour, which left plenty of time to sleep before he worried about reports, or DIY projects, or anything else.

Decision made, Rocky stood and opened the overhead bin above his seat. Pulling out a neatly folded blanket, he secured the rounded hatch before finding his seat once more.

After inserting his set of wireless earbuds into his ears and pulling up a playlist filled with his favorite zone-out songs, he covered as much of himself as he could with the blanket and settled into the most comfortable position he could find.

But as he drifted off to sleep to the soft vibrations of the jet's powerful engines, Rocky dreamed he, too, had the same kind of life—and love—Christian and Brody had already found.