Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

“No one better than a frogman at your back, 2nd lieutenant,” another voice shouted back at me.

“I can think of five I’d much rather have with me right now.” My growl barely over a whisper because I knew just how far away the sound of a voice could be heard when there was no buffer of bullets flying.

Three more men sailed past me, each one knocking me on the shoulder as they passed me.

Fucking pricks.

Keeping my thoughts to myself, I smirked when they made their way down the hill, taking the wrong direction. See, the problem with wanting to be the first ones there was they didn’t do their homework. I’d spent the previous two weeks walking this particular plateau and I knew that that track was the long way. The direction I planned to take would take me directly behind the compound I knew Deke was being taken to. There was only one rebel hideout where the gunmen wore red and green bandanas over their faces, and the men that took Deke sported those colours. Details were important in my job, as much as knife and gun skills. It was similar to being a sniper, hours of watching, blending in and not calling attention to yourself.

That was the way of a commando Tier 1 operator.

Peeling off from the SEALS, I took the rocky, barely-there track, I left my back-up, increasing my pace when the face of my team-mate came to my mind. For my mission to be successful, I had to keep myself detached from Deke emotionally, but that was a hard thing to do, even for me. Through years of deployments and countless hours together, Deke was more than just a soldier. He was my brother in arms, an integral part of the Sons, and a bloody fine bloke. Getting him back alive was my only objective. Then, when I grabbed the bastard, he and I were going to have words about his insane and dangerous behaviour during the attack.

Deke went rogue, and there was no other word to describe his erratic decisions to storm through doors without a man at his back. His idiotic waste of ammo when he had to know that the team was low and needed to refit stupefied me.

Obviously Deke had something going on, and he and I and the rest of the team were going to have a conversation when we got back to home base about him being a dickhead, as soon as I saved the silly mongrel.

Stepping lightly, I moved through the shadows of the outbuildings. The moon was high in the sky, leaving me no cover, so staying pressed against the walls of the buildings and slowly making my way was my only option. Earlier in the week, I had already sized up the main compound during a night recon, so I knew that the bottom floor would be my first port of call as I had already ascertained that the living quarters were on the top and second top floors.

Sneaking without sound, I eased ahead in short intervals to not gain any attention from anyone who might be on watch detail. One thing I found out about the rebels was they liked to drink at night, not all that worried about maintaining patrols around the perimeter. They were that cocky, they honestly thought no one would ever breach the compound.

Well, they haven’t come up against the Ghost, I thought to myself, smirking in the darkness. I earned my mission name, earned it with the ability to be in plain sight and yet, remain unidentifiable. I had no tattoos, no scars, nothing at all discerning that made me noticeable.

And I was quiet.

I could walk into a room and no one would notice me. My mum used to complain when I was a kid that I needed a bell around my neck to stop her from having heart failure. It helped back in the day when Shiloh got one of her stupid ideas in her head, getting all the Club kids into trouble. I managed to creep away without our parents finding out I had been involved. It also helped that while I was growing up, I watched and learned from my mum. I watched her count her steps, learned how to remember where objects were in rooms, listening to the sounds of my surroundings, and not to rely only on my sight but all my senses. The way my mum dealt with being blind taught me how to be a soldier before I ever put on a uniform.

It served me well then and now.

Without a sound, I stealthy ran along the walls of the buildings, thankful that I wasn’t carrying a pack or sixty kilos of equipment on my back. All I needed was my KAC SR-25 rifle, a belt of grenades, two HK USP sidearms, four clips and my bowie knife. I was set for a rescue mission and anything else that might come my way.

I could hear the SEALS talking up a storm from way across the village, their noise actually working in my favour. They’d attract the rebels and all I’d have to do is swoop in and snatch Deke up, then get out without them knowing I was there.

Without warning, the sky lit up with the red and blue blasts of bullets being fired, popping sounds whistled, breaking the silence of the quiet night and my plan of sneaking in undetected.

Cursing a blue streak that would have my mother slapping me on the upside of my head, I bolted towards the compound where I knew in my gut Deke was being held. The SEALs can deal with their fuck up; all I wanted was my team-mate and I was out of here.

It was times like this I needed Gabe’s speed and Bastian’s crazy brute force, but I was alone and wishing was nothing but a waste of time. Vaulting over a brick water well, I skidded to hide behind