Page 12 of Legacy's Call

“No, I’ll call the camp coordinator, your lead, Miller Dupre, to ensure he knows you’re the security team's point of contact. I don’t want anyone tooverride you regarding the safety ofourpeople. He has a say with the IDPs, but we’re the people moving them, and our organization is paying for them. We’ll be the point of contact, not him.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it. I’ll keep him informed.” She knew Miller would understand. Miller Dupre was about sixty, an ole southern boy, and damn sharp. He knew she’d done everything correctly, and nothing she’d done to get more eyes on the issue had moved the needle, so having real security instead of relying on the militia would be welcome.

“We’re doing everything we can on this end.”

The comment came across as an apology, which melted any remaining anger as quickly as a blowtorch hitting an ice cube. “I know, sir. I know you are. It’s just so hard. These children and unaccompanied women look to us for protection and assistance. Seven convoys out of the last fifteen have been hit. Someonehasto be giving out the information.”

“My thoughts exactly. But finding out who is almost impossible. There are so many entities involved in the logistics of the movements.”

“Maybe there’s another way.” She glanced out the plastic window of the tent.

“Not that we can legally move forward with, unfortunately. Good luck, Buchanan.”

“Thank you, sir.” She ended the call and handed the phone back to Adil. “Thanks.”

“Good news?” Adil asked as he replaced the satellite phone in its charger.

“No, not really. We’re getting a Band-Aid to stop a hemorrhage.” She headed back to the admin tent. Until the camp shuttered, there was still work to do, and she’d be damned if she dropped the ball. These women and children needed someone to be there for them.

CHAPTER 3

Ronan watched the ragtag group of vehicles approach the meeting point. Wolf was in position just in case things got sticky. Jug, Stryker, and Wraith were spread out, appearing to be lounging around, but they weren’t. The four-by-four Jeep and modified trailer attached to it carried their provisions, ammo, and several surprises for the fuckers attacking those convoys. One thing they learned about the militia in these countries was that trust was earned; it wasn’t given, especially on first meeting the cadre they’d be working with. And Ronan had good reason not to trust this contingent.

The vehicles pulled to a stop, and the occupants dismounted in a careless, haphazard fashion. Ronanwatched as the men stretched, leaving weapons in the vehicles, and one whipped out his dick and took a piss on the wheel of the fucking vehicle. His disdain for the crew grew by the second.

A slender man sauntered toward Ronan with an ammo belt perched on his hip and an automatic dangling near his knee. The look was ridiculous, and the ability to use the weapon rested somewhere in the no-way-in-hell category. He stopped in front of Ronan and looked him up and down. The contempt in his gaze was obvious and belligerent. “You are the Guardian, the professional soldier?” Slim, as Ronan had already tagged him, spoke in English.

Ronan lifted an eyebrow and leveled the coldest stare he could conjure on the man. “That depends on who’s asking.”

A couple of Slim’s men turned at Ronan’s comment, their weapons inching his direction. “I am Bilal, Captain of the Northern Front Liberation Force.” The little guy puffed up and extended his arm back toward his men.

Jug pushed away from the tree where he was leaning. His M-4 was tilted in the direction of the approaching men.

Ronan stood up and walked over to the man. “I’m the Guardian, as you said. I was told you would havesixty men.” He looked over the bedraggled men. “I count half that. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Not here.” The man shrugged. “You have us.”

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest and drawled, “Nah. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Slim blinked and jerked a bit. “What does this mean?”

Ronan shrugged. “I’d rather not work with half of what we need.”

“Then you will go alone?” The man laughed. “You will die.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll wait for others. You don’t think we’d depend on only the local militia, do you?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “What others?”

“More of us.” Ronan shrugged. “I could use some downtime as we wait.”

“You got that right,” Stryker agreed from where he stood.

Slim’s eyes traveled to the trailer attached to the armored Jeep they were driving. There was a hunger in his eyes. He wanted the contents even though he didn’t know what it was. Greed was still alive and strong, and Slim needed a fix. The guy shook his head. “No. This is not what was agreed.” Slim’s frown deepened, and his eyes darted from Ronan toWraith, who hadn’t said a word but was silently standing overwatch on Jug, Stryker, and him.

“You’re right. You didn’t hold up your end. It isn’t what was agreed.” Ronan turned to walk away, but Slim grabbed his arm.

Three M-4s were leveled and pointing at Slim and the group of men who’d congregated to listen to a conversation they probably couldn’t understand. When one of Slim’s men reached for his weapon, a red dot laser sight popped on Slim’s chest. That freaked the crew out in fine fashion.

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