Page 55 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

“I got movement.”

Brody didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. “Where?”

“Four o’clock.”

“I see him.” Someone stepped out of the building, checked around him and hurried alongside the building. “Idiot left the door open,” he said to Napoli. Not much, but enough to get a peek inside. The unsuspecting tango was now busy taking a piss against the east-facing wall of the building. “Can you see anything?”

“Negative, the angle’s wrong.”

Brody seized his chance and shot the drone into a steep dive, hoping the wind would cover the high-pitched whine of its motor from the guy around the corner. He flew it down and angled it until he could get a look inside the open door.

Yup. Seven people moving around, and three seated, unmoving. Each of the three appeared to be inside some kind of structure.

Had to be the hostages.

Bingo.Adrenaline and elation punched through him as he shot the drone back up into the sky. “It’s them.”

“You sure?” Napoli asked, still staring through the range finder.

“Yeah.” Now it was time to pull the trigger and kick some ass.

With one hand holding the remote control he pulled out his radio and contacted DeLuca back at HQ.

“Go ahead, Charlie-Kilo,” his commander said, using Brody’s operating initials.

“I’ve got visual confirmation on our three hostages,” he replied. “Stand by for coordinates.”

Chapter Eighteen

Adam’s eyes snapped open when someone touched his shoulder. He lurched upright on the bench he’d been dozing on for what seemed like only seconds, blinked up into Tuck’s face.

“What?” he asked, his brain instantly clearing. The whole team had crashed in this office about an hour ago.

“Foster just called us back in. Something about a change in the timeline.”

What? Instantly alert, he got up, rubbed a hand over his eyes as he rushed out the door with the others. Up in the command center, the mood was tense.

A familiar sinking sensation formed in his gut.

DeLuca was over at the conference table with Foster, a cup of coffee in hand, his features drawn with fatigue. While they’d all been grabbing whatever sleep they could, their commander had been in here all night—again—without any rest. He straightened and nodded at them. “Everybody gather around.”

Adam and the others fanned out in a tight semicircle around DeLuca and Foster. Dread curled in the pit of his stomach.Don’t say she’s dead. Don’t say it.

“The sand storm is moving in faster than expected. We just got a call from an informant who says Hadad is planning to move up the executions. He wants to do them before the storm hits and use it as cover to escape across the Syrian border.”

Adam sucked in a sharp breath. “Who is it? Do you have a location?”

“It’s not confirmed yet but our sniper team is already at a village up north near the Syrian border for some recon.” They’d only brought one seven-man sniper team with them for this mission, leaving the other back at Quantico with Blue Team’s second assault team. “They’ll update me as soon as they’re in position at the village. And the informant is…” He looked at Foster.

“Essentially he’s a double agent. Though not a very skilled or trustworthy one,” the director added. “Still, we can’t discount that his intel might be accurate so we’re checking it out.” He gestured to the team of people working behind him at workstations they’d set up using tables and desks.

“How much time do we have?” Adam asked, every nerve in his body screaming at him todosomething proactive, to get out there and grab Summer before that clock reached zero.

“Less than four hours.”

Adam felt the blood drain from his face. Holy fuck. That was less than half the window they thought they had initially. He swallowed back the fear rising inside him. “Has the sniper team reported in yet?”

“Not yet, but we’re expecting a report soon. Here, take a look.” DeLuca swept aside some paperwork on the long table and revealed a detailed topographical map.

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