Page 7 of S.O.S. Mizzay

Yeah, she could use the call button again, but it seemed like Cobble needed some time alone to process, so she’d step out to find one of his medical team.

She glanced at her watch as she walked out the door. There were still nine-plus hours until Charles Smalley arrived. Hopefully, by that time, Missy would have some information.IfCobble remembered what happened. Andifhe was of a mind to share. As his superior, she could order him to talk, but that wasn’t the way she did things. In the months they’d been together—their platoon of sixteen—Missy had never treated Cobble or anyone in her squads as underlings. She’d seen them all as her highly capable teammates.

That’s the way she’d deal with Cobble, moving forward.

CHAPTER THREE

Cobble couldn’t come to grips with the fact that not only had his squad been blindsided during what should have been a routine mission, they were all dead. All except him.

Why had he been the one to live?

Guilt ate at him, gnawing his guts.

Winch…

The man’s wife and kids didn’t deserve to get the call he knew they’d probably already received.

Dammit. Winch had been a good friend and mentor. A stellar soldier. And if Winch hadn’t seen what was coming…

What the hell had happened, exactly?

Cobble wracked his pain-shrouded brain for answers.

He remembered heading in to the UN offices in the morning…

Was it only yesterday, or had he lost more time than that?

He recalled joking around with the guys about how the personnel at the UN offices whom they were about to escort to the city, might actually have some decent coffee, unlike what they’d been drinking in the platoon’s dorm-like rooms where they were bivouacked. Nobody knew where the sludge they normally drank came from, but other than a jolt in the morning, it was good for absolutely nothing except hours of acid reflux.

Winch, followed by Cobble and four additional squad members, had walked into the office they’d visited only one time previously. But true to form, Winch had immediately greeted everyone there by name. That had just been Winch’s way, he’d been so gregarious.

So…what had they missed?

Nothing that Cobble recalled had looked wrong.

The five UN peacekeepers were bustling around, trying to decide what materials should go with them to their new headquarters, and what could be left behind for transport by a crew who didn’t have their level of security clearance. Then…

That’s where things got fuzzy.

Had the door opened? Had more people arrived?

Cobble concentrated hard.

Yes.

His head started to ache, but he wasn’t going to step away from the memory. Not yet, anyway. It was all, almost at the tip of his fingers…

The door had swung open and a group of locals had walked through, almost as if they owned the place.

Crap. They’d all been armed.

That, Cobble now recalled for certain. He and several of his teammates had reached for their guns, but Winch had made a stand-down signal, clearly hoping that things wouldn’t escalate. The team had all complied, but not happily from what Cobble retained in his gray matter.

The man at the head of the encroaching group; the leader—or so Cobble had assumed—had shouted a lot. Cobble tried recalling the man’s face, but couldn’t quite visualize it. It had seemed, however, as if the man had been yelling at someone in specific. He’d actually strode toward—

Shit.Cobble couldn’t rememberwhohad been in the insurgent’s direct line of sight, nor could he recall the events following. He tried to concentrate; hone in on the individuals who had been in the office before the intrusion, but he came up blank.

And his head was really pounding now.

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