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Bree sat behind Briggs in the third row of seats in a large SUV. He grinned at her over his shoulder, and then faced forward. She tried to return it, but her jangled nerves made it difficult.
Twenty minutes ago, the big man, the one who claimed he could read people’s minds, had pounded on her door and told her they were going on their first mission.
Bree couldn’t believe it.
Just a few hours ago, she’d been at a shooting range, wondering what would happen with her career in SWAT. Now she was part of a secret search-and-rescue team. If that was what it could even be called.
Truth be told, she didn’t know what she’d gotten herself wrapped up in. They’d given her a legitimate DHS badge. She’d spent part of the morning filling out forms to get a Top Secret security clearance.
They’d outfitted her with an all-black, military-style uniform. She had her rifle and a few dozen rounds of ammunition. A .45 caliber sidearm was holstered around her right thigh.
They each had black ski masks to conceal their identities. Nelson had met all of them outside the building before they’d climbed into the vehicle and warned them to keep their faces hidden at all times. He hammered home what would happen to anyone they knew if that Smith guy found out who they were.
It all seemed incredibly implausible to Bree. How could someone have so much power, have so many moles inside the government, that he could get to almost anyone?
Then again, she thought, these people believe in mind control. We’ll probably have to write a wish list for Santa Claus when we get back. Maybe the stork can bring me a baby when I finally decide to retire.
The pilot of the chopper, whose name she’d just learned was Jack Shea, sat behind the wheel. He’d been with the horribly named Psych Ward the longest. He kept quiet for the most part, only responding to questions with one- or two-word answers.
Bree had found out that he was a former Army Ranger and was now a helicopter pilot. And that was about it. His black hair was short, his face clean-shaven. He had a thin, wiry build.
Huxx sat in the front passenger seat. He didn’t bother talking much either.
Beside the affable Briggs was the asshole Tate. He kept scowling back at Bree.
She agonized over the fact that they were about to do something that would most likely be dangerous, and one of her teammates viewed her with open disdain. Knowing that he had zero confidence in her made her wary of what could happen when bullets started whizzing by.
They sat in silence for the most part. Tate grumbled every so often about the stupidity of sending a team into the field that hadn’t trained together.
On that, they all agreed.
The idea that the field of combat was actually inside America’s borders made Bree queasy. She’d wanted this, yes, but now that it was go time, she’d begun to second-guess herself.
All the men in the SUV were warriors. They were total badasses with dozens of confirmed kills. The missions they’d executed came straight out of Tom Clancy novels.
Bree had only fired her weapon in the line of duty once. She’d killed one man in all of her time with SWAT. Did she really have what was required to run with those guys? She closed her eyes, forced herself to relax.
They wouldn’t have chosen her if she couldn’t hang with the big dogs.
The door beside her opened, and the big man slid onto the seat beside her.
“Ready to go, ladies?” Asher asked. He looked at Manning. “No offense.”
“None taken,” she said in her best I’m-not-scared-shitless voice.
The rest of the crew nodded their affirmation to his question.
“Everyone have their masks and comms?” Asher placed a small earbud in his right ear. The cable snaked down his neck and disappeared under the black body armor he wore.
“Not our first rodeo, boy.” Tate slid his earpiece in as well.
Bree did the same. No sound came out of it yet.
Briggs peered back at Ash. “You were an LT? Army?”
“That’s right.” Ash tapped his temple. “Discharged after I took a little bump on the noggin and started hearing voices. Turns out the Army doesn’t want crazy people running around with automatic rifles.”
“So we have a POG and female cop going to war with us?” Tate asked. “I can’t wait to get shot in the back when one of you blows your assignment.”
“Nobody is sneaking up on you when you’re with me, cupcake.” Ash held an M4, the stock of the rifle sitting on the floor between his legs. He also had a .45 holstered against his leg.
Several pockets of a tactical vest held extra magazines.
Like the rest of them, his facemask sat on the top of his head, not pulled down over his face yet.
Tate grumbled something that they all ignored.
“Where are we going?” Shea asked from behind the wheel.
“Get us on 95 South,” Ash said. “Drew will call in the address shortly.”
Shea put the SUV in gear and drove away from the building. They stopped in front of a gate made of chain-link fence and topped with barbed wire. The gate didn’t move for several seconds before sliding open.
As they pulled out of the compound, Briggs turned around as best he could with all of his gear on. “No one told us exactly what we’re doing.”
“Drew, er, Detective Lloyd, got a call this morning from a woman in D.C. He hasn’t spoken to her yet, but we’ve confirmed that she was in the subway this morning when Smith’s men showed up.” Ash adjusted his vest. “The man who engaged with them passed her something and helped her escape before they put him down. We’re going to her apartment building to grab her and whatever it was that the man gave her.”
“She know we’re coming?” Briggs asked.
“We can’t get ahold of her. We’re hoping that Smith doesn’t have her already. Drew has a few officers heading there now to hold her for us.”
“What if Smith does have her?” Bree asked.
“Then she’s fucked.”
Bree grimaced. She asked herself for the tenth time what she’d gotten involved in.
Huxx pulled down the visor in front of him and looked at Ash in the mirror. “And if Smith’s men show up while we’re there?”
“Weapons free,” Ash said. “They won’t hesitate to shoot us, so don’t extend them the courtesy.” He looked over at Bree. “The plug in your right ear is the comms. All of you have a second noise-cancelling earbud on the left. We’re hoping it will block the signal that was broadcast this morning. If we encounter Smith’s men, make sure to immediately put the other bud in. I don’t care if you’re engaged at the time or not.”
Bree reached inside her collar with a finger, felt around until she found the bud. She wanted to vomit at the idea of suffering from the effects of that damnable signal.
Benson was watching her. “The last thing you want is to go crazy and start shooting up civilians. Don’t screw around with this.”
“So our asses will just be hanging out in the wind without both of these in, but we won’t be able to hear shit if we’re using them the whole time.” Tate brayed laughter. “It figures.”
“It’s a catch-22,” Asher said. “Nothing we can do it about it right now.”
Bree ran her fingers along the barrel of her rifle. It sat across her lap, its cool steel keeping her somewhat grounded. They drove through the main gate of the post and headed for I-95, the largest highway on the East Coast of the United States.
“Why ain’t we flyin’?” Briggs asked after several minutes of silence.
“All air travel around the capital has been shut down.” A wry smile touched Asher’s lips. “That and I’m not allowed within a mile of the National Mall. Or the Pentagon. Or the NSA.”
“On account of your, umm, mutant powers?” Briggs did everything short of using air quotes to show how little he believed what Ash had said.
Bree wanted to give him a high-five for his skepticism.
“Something like that.” Asher’s grin broadened. “You’ll believe me soon enough.”
As they accelerated onto the highway, the traffic heavy, but moving quickly, Bree felt her heart rate quicken. It would take them a while to get down to the city, but that didn’t calm her nerves.
“Oh, there’s one more thing.” Benson’s grin faltered. “Riots are breaking out around the city.”
“What?” Tate’s head snapped around. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Thousands of people started protesting shortly after the attack this morning. They’re pissed that the government isn’t protecting them from terrorism. They turned violent about thirty minutes ago because nothing keeps you safe like burning down your own city. By the time we get there, D.C. will probably be in full-blown chaos. The cops are already locking down most of the main highways and streets.”
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” Briggs grumbled. “We’re supposed to swoop into the middle of a city during a riot and pull a woman out? This is the best plan we got?”
“This is it.” Benson rolled his neck.
It cracked several times.
He passively stared ahead.
Bree fidgeted in her seat. She checked her rifle’s ammunition twice.
Made sure she had extra rounds in her vest.
Examined her sidearm.
The further down the road they got, the more nervous she became. She was used to drug raids, not fighting paramilitary-styled terrorists.
Beside her, Asher looked as if he might fall asleep. The casual way he watched the traffic flow around them made it appear as if he was merely on a Sunday drive.