Chapter 1

Trujillo, Puerto Jardin

South America

Special Forces Sergeant Case "Lurch" Lundquist was hunting.

He could live with the rebels after his ass, but he wouldn't allow them to target some innocent woman who had the misfortune of eating lunch at his table yesterday. Every other seat was taken, and his glower didn't scare her off. Bad luck for her that one of the assholes had seen her with him.

Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe they wouldn't go after her. Maybe, but he wasn't betting her safety on it.

Case tried to put thoughts of her aside. He couldn't do anything about his attraction, not while he was working. One day. That's all he was allowing himself. He'd find a rebel, one not in a group, and ask a few questions.

Easier said than done.

Trujillo was the largest city in the southern half of Puerto Jardin, and it sprawled. It was challenging to locate anyone, especially if they didn't want to be found.

His team had rescued him from a hut in the rainforest, but he didn't see any point in driving out and hiking to the area. The insurgents would have bugged out ASAP after the raid. Then there was Captain Nguyen. The Big Dog would want to know what the hell Case thought he was doing. He didn't want to explain. As soon as he mentioned the brunette, the lecture would begin.

Maybe he needed one.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. Long, dark hair in a sassy ponytail, velvet brown eyes snapping with intelligence, nearly flawless features, and a body that inspired fantasies. But sexy as she was, it was her no-bullshit personality that made her damn near unforgettable. Sparring with her had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he could remember.

Realizing he'd drifted to a stop, Case shook his head again and resumed moving. He was stalking the area near El Taller , the mercenary hangout, and it was a sketchy part of town. It became riskier if someone—him, for instance—didn't pay attention.

The streets consisted of cracked asphalt broken up by sections of packed-down dirt. A three-story apartment building loomed ahead, the side sheared off and its remnants still strewn across the half-empty lot. People lived in the remaining half, even though it was in danger of collapse. There were worse housing situations than this in the country.

Puerto Jardin was a mess. It was home not just to an international arms dealer, but to drug lords, illegal gold miners, illegal logging, and a bunch of other things he could put the word illegal in front of.

Then there was the civil war. For the past ten years, it had been an on-again/off-again affair, drawing mercenaries from around the world. Lately, it had been on again with most of the battles taking place in the country's north. Trujillo was far away from the fighting, but it was where out-of-work mercs waited for jobs. It was where the rebel splinter group was hanging out.

The men he wanted to locate.

Case drew to a halt across the street from El Taller. The merc bar was in sad shape. The white paint on the brick exterior was flaked, the tin roof showed visible rust, and someone had spelled out the name of the bar using pallet slats nailed to the front. The E had come partially unmoored and hung crookedly. There were maybe two dozen mercenaries loitering in front.

The bar was one of his least favorite places and Case usually avoided it. He'd like to stay away now, too, but he needed to at least make a walk-through. There could be rebels inside.

The interior was dimly lit, especially after the bright sunlight outside, and Case allowed his eyes to adjust. Cigarette smoke hung like a hazy cloud over the packed room, the few small ceiling fans unable to clear it.

Threading his way through the throng, Case headed for the bar to buy a beer he had no intention of drinking. As he waited in line, he looked around. There were too many bodies to see much except a sea of camo. He knew the layout of the bar well and had a plan in mind for how to search by the time he paid for his beer.

He finished three-quarters of his grid without seeing any rebels, but as he reached the final quadrant, Case spotted one of his teammates sitting at a corner table. The mercenaries gave Oziah "Wizard" West a wide berth. The man looked like trouble.

It didn't appear as if he'd combed his long, dark hair today, his beard needed a trim, and his entire aura emitted fuck-off vibes. His attitude was one reason Oz had been assigned to work undercover for the local drug lord. Case pretended not to know him, but Oz signaled him to come over.

"Yeah?" Case asked when he reached the table.

Oz gestured toward the open seat across from him. Reluctantly, Case sat, putting his beer bottle down in front of him.

"What are you doing here, dude?" Oz asked.

Shrugging with nonchalance he didn't feel, Case said, "Looking for friends. Why are you camped out at El Taller ?"

Raising his beer bottle, Oz took a swig before he straightened, glanced around, and said quietly, "I have a check-in with Ski and Baggs."

Oz didn't have as many meetups as some of the team—himself, for instance—but he had to make occasional updates. "Why'd you want me to come over?"

"Because after I finished with that, I was going to look for you."

"Vargas sent you to find me." Vargas was the drug lord Oz was supposedly working for.

"Got it in one."

Case reached for his beer and took a long swig. Fuck . The last thing he needed was Vargas on top of everything else he was trying to handle. The man was smart, and he was deadly, which meant Case needed to be on his A-game when he interacted with him. At the moment, he was too distracted by a brunette fireball and doing what he could to keep her safe.

"Se?or Vargas usually sends his more senior employees when he wants to bring me in for a meeting." Senior as in men who wore suits to do their dirty work instead of camouflage and combat boots. Case had gone for a ride in Vargas's limo with a couple of those dudes not that long ago.

"I'm more intimidating."

Case said nothing, but he thought the men in the dark suits were more threatening. There was something about looking professional while issuing warnings that made it more visceral.

Oz's attention drifted. "Ski and Baggs are here."

Following his teammate's gaze, Case spotted the two men inside the doorway. They were both over six feet tall with brown hair and dressed in the usual merc attire. That's where the similarities ended. Ski's hair was nearly black, and it was getting long. Baggs was the new medic and had joined the team shortly before they'd inserted in Puerto Jardin. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, and while it was shaggy, he didn't look as disreputable as Ski did.

Pienkowski spotted them and his brows went up. After a brief exchange with Baggs, the medic went to the bar and Ski headed for the table.

"This is a surprise," he said as he took a seat, shifting the chair until most of his back faced the wall. "What are you doing here, Lurch?"

With a shrug, Case said, "I was looking for someone and ran into the Wizard instead."

"I didn't think you two were supposed to know each other."

"I called him over," Oz said. "Vargas ordered me to give him a message, and this saved me from having to hunt all over Trujillo."

Ski nodded. "The rebels still after you?"

Reaching for his beer bottle, Case said, "It's hard to say."

"Bullshit. Try again."

He took a sip and spent a few seconds deciding how to answer. Case hated liars. He tried not to lie to his teammates, but anything he said would be reported back to the captain. This might need to be one of those times where he omitted some intel.

Finally, he lowered the beer and said, "It is hard to say because I've been avoiding them." Until today, but Ski—and the Big Dog—didn't need that information. "Nothing's changed that I'm aware of, so assume they remain interested."

Baggs arrived at the table with two beers, set one in front of Ski, and took the seat on Case's side of the table. He shifted the chair, too, protecting his back. "We have a lot of unhappy mercs," the medic said. "They're bitching about their contracts expiring and no sign they'll be renewed."

"Which side? Do you know?" Case asked.

"Sounded like the government."

"That's interesting," Oz said conversationally. "I wonder if the war is taking another time out?"

Case shook his head. "I haven't heard anything to suggest that. It's more likely their off-the-books slush fund is running low."

It wasn't good news. The Puerto Jardinese government didn't scale down. Instead, they either put the screws to their own citizens, put the screws to the drug lords and other illicit operators, or stole something they could sell for big bucks. The first two options destabilized an already shaky status quo but were the most likely to occur.

"Fuck," Oz muttered. "That's all I need is to be in the middle of a war between Vargas and the government."

"Your boss wouldn't pay up?" Ski asked.

Oz scowled. "I doubt it. When he took over the cartel, he was completely ruthless. I don't think he'll meekly fall in line with any extortion effort from the capital."

They were all quiet for a moment. Case assumed everyone was envisioning the hellscape Trujillo would become if that occurred. Things had been bad enough for a few months last year, and that had been gang-on-gang warfare. Gang-on-government had the potential to be bloodier.

"Cheer up," Ski said. "There are still treasures in the national museum the government can steal and sell. That's the safer path to an influx of cash." He changed the subject. "Lurch, you have anything to report on the arms front?"

"No change. A lot of spinning my wheels."

Ski grunted and turned his attention to Oz. "What about you, Wiz?"

"No change on my end, either. The only new wrinkle is my message for Lurch."

Case put down the beer bottle he'd been lifting to his lips. "What's the message?"

Oz frowned. "Se?or Vargas requests the honor of your presence—those were the words he used, the honor of your presence —on Saturday at the ruins near San Isidro. Two p.m."

Case stiffened. "Where Vargas's boss was assassinated last year."

"Same," Oz confirmed. "You're supposed to come alone."

"That can't happen," Ski immediately said. "BD will want some of the team there to back him up."

"No one will be able to get close enough to be any help," Oz said, leaning forward in his seat. "Arrangements have already been made to patrol the area, and if someone gets picked up, Lurch will pay for it."

"Even if someone just gets spotted, I'll pay for it," Case said. "It's better if I go alone."

Ski shook his head, the motion emphatic. "It could be a setup to murder you. You know that, right?"

"Odds are against it. He wants me to acquire the precision-guided rifles. He's not going to kill me and lose a potential source for the weapon."

"You already told him you can't get them," Ski said. "You're at risk."

"I'm always at risk. It comes with the job."

Ski's use of profanity was creative.

Case waited until he finished. "Vargas is applying pressure to Torres to work with me. He's the only inroad I've got to the boss. We can't piss him off."

"The Big Dog isn't going to be happy."

"Lucky for me, I don't have to tell him," Case said as he stood. "You do. Let BD know I'll be at the meeting and I'll check-in with someone when I return to Trujillo."

He walked toward the exit, but Ski stopped him. "Lurch?"

Case looked over his shoulder but didn't turn.

"Don't get dead. Understood?"

Waving to show he heard, Case headed for the door.