Page 28 of Midnight Escape

Neither did Danny. It was too quiet. The intel they’d received on this government-sanctioned op sucked monkey balls. Arthur Hall, FBI Deputy Director, and HIS worked together on many ops. Danny Franks never asked why. He did what needed to be done.

This was supposed to be an easy snatch and grab job. Not even snatch. Someone brought the boy to them. Easy for the four of them. Not breaking their arms to pat themselves on their backs, but he, Cowboy, Doc, and Stone knew how to win. This time, something wasn’t right. The air reeked of it. The heavy pressure of getting the boy and team to safety rested on his chest, making each breath painful.

Why the agency—any of them—had farmed this out should’ve set alarm bells ringing in his head when they had off-the-books black ops that could be done with their hands tied behind their backs. Uncle Sam was, at least, providing air transport out of here.

Reaching down beside him, he checked the little boy’s pulse for about the hundredth time. Doc said he’d sleep until they got him nearly home, and that worked for Danny since he’d yet to hear their ride approach.

When the men returned from patrol, he’d find out what disturbed him about this op. “We’ll be fine.” Together, they’d always find a way.

Stone reported in first from his recon of the area behind the structure. “I’d say we’re going to be rockin’ more than we thought.”

“If I didn’t say it before, thanks for joining the party, Stone.” Without him, they’d been benched for this op, and as much as he liked being around Moira, this kid needed them.

Cowboy didn’t wait a beat before he got in some good-natured jesting. “After riding that desk, did you put on your big boy pants to enter our playground?”

Doc reported in, breaking off anything Stone said in retort. “They’ve got a fucking army arriving.”

Shit. How did their contact not tell them that? Dammit, they were a quarter mile away from their extraction point and were nearly boxed in. Why not protect the boy in the first place, instead of bringing in the troops to take him back?

Danny grabbed the bill of his camo cap, yanked it off, then shoved it back on his head. His mind spun fast through idea after idea. No one said it, but they should’ve heard the helo by now, which meant they had to fight their way to a secure location and wait for backup transport. He’d be kicking Arthur in the ass for leaving them like this with an innocent child under their protection.

If HIS had their own helo, he could’ve flown them in and out. No waiting. Wait, did he say he’d fly it? Impossible.

“I found one gap in their coverage,” Doc stated, “but I can’t guarantee it still holds.”

“Ditto,” Stone added.

Danny’s gut churned. The leader in him screamed setup. Their target knew this team would be there. Arthur had a leak because Danny knew HIS didn’t. Shit, it could’ve been a leak elsewhere since the troops were trucked in. Until Arthur found the traitor, Danny would remain wary.

His blood pulsed with a surge of adrenaline in a prepared-to-fight mode, but he wanted the team to be on the same sheet of music. “How many tangos behind us and how large were the gaps?” he asked in a take-charge voice. “Enough for us to slip through?”

Doc answered first. “Roger.”

“Negative,” Stone said in a clipped voice.

“Doc?” he prompted.

“Twenty. Ten each side. Either leaving the exit open for us to walk into their trap or closing in on us.”

Definite setup. He hated making the hard decision, but he had to so they could run a successful op. “Well, boys and girls—” Danny started.

“There ain’t no fucking girls on our team anymore,” Cowboy corrected him.

“I don’t know, Cowboy,” Stone taunted, “you seem to get your panties in a wad quite often.”

Too worried about them getting out of here to their extraction point, their friendly banter slid over him, but having it was normal until go-time. “Okay, boys—and I use that word lightly—I’m not saying anything you’re not thinking. This reeks setup. First, our ride isn’t on time, and the enemy provides a perfect path back to them? Only an idiot wouldn’t catch that. Standby.”

Slipping his backpack to the ground, he slid the zipper, greased, so it wouldn’t make a sound, opened, pulled out the sat phone, and dialed the op line. As expected, the answer came before the first ring ended.

“Go,” AJ Hamilton—youngest Hamilton brother—clipped.

“We don’t have a bird or much time,” Danny stated briskly.

“What do you mean?”

AJ’s muffled voice called for Devon to the phone while using another to call about the transport. When would AJ learn to completely cover the mouthpiece when expecting it to mute? Danny shook his head at that.

A second click on the phone line told him Devon—who a few sometimes referred to as Big Voice—had joined the call. Good. He wouldn’t have to repeat anything and Devon would be working that computer of his.

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