At precisely oh-four-hundred local time, Ajax jumped down from the back of the truck he’d ridden in with four other men. The other half of their team descended from the second truck.
Ajax had studied the precise plan for several hours. He was ready. He was armed. His adrenaline was pumping hard.
He moved silently in a row with the other men toward the entrance to the cave. If everything went as smoothly as Striker planned, this job shouldn’t be too hard. There were ten on his side and four men to take out.
Please, God. Let this work.
As they closed in, they crouched down lower. Everyone stopped just before they were in danger of being spotted. Two sharp-shooters took out the guards at the exact same moment. As soon as the two men hit the ground, all of Striker’s team, including Ajax, rushed the entrance to the cave.
Ajax and another man were to stand guard outside the cave entrance. It made Ajax uneasy, but this wasn’t his team. He answered to Striker today. The man knew what the fuck he was doing. Questioning him would have been ludicrous.
Eight men entered the cave. It was silent.
Ajax’s heart raced as he waited, gun ready. Seconds ticked by. Suddenly the sound of an approaching vehicle made Ajax spin toward the gravel road. “Fuck.” This was not in the plan.
Two men emerged from the cave, undoubtedly having heard the vehicle.
The man who’d been with Ajax lined up his gun and took a shot at the vehicle.
Taking a cue from him that this was an enemy, Ajax crouched down, lined up his shot, and took out the front right tire.
Several people shouted. Two more men emerged from the cave.
Now there were six of them, but what were they up against?
Four armed men jumped down from the damaged truck, already firing at the cave entrance before their feet hit the ground.
“Get the fuck inside,” Striker yelled from the entrance.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” Ajax muttered as they rushed into the cave one after another. The last thing he wanted was to get trapped and become a hostage himself.
Ajax stayed at the entrance. He leaned around the edge and took several shots. A scream in the distance told him he’d hit a man.
“I’m over your head, Birdman. Stay down,” Striker shouted as he set up a machine gun over the top of Ajax. The two of them both started shooting.
“Got one,” Striker yelled. “Two tangos heading toward the left.”
One of Striker’s men stepped outside. He would have no cover out there, but he did it anyway, and seconds later two pops filled the air right before blessed silence. He spoke in rapid Afar as he returned to the cave.
Striker’s shoulders relaxed. “He got them. Let’s hurry. We need to get the hell out of here.”
Ajax jogged behind Striker, moving deeper into the cave. He hated this part. The path was lit by the occasional torch, but traveling deeper into a dead-end made him edgy.
Striker had a flashlight, and he paused every few yards to shine around the area. Finally, he found their target, and Ajax had never been so fucking relieved in his life.
He hadn’t known which of his brothers would be found in this cave, but the moment he stepped around Striker so they could see his face, Tavis Neade, Bones, and Keene Soto, Gramps, jumped up from where they’d been huddled in on the floor against a wall.
They covered their eyes from the bright light.
“Fuck. Sorry.” Striker lowered the light.
“Birdman?” Bones muttered.
“It’s me.” Ajax held up both hands as he approached. “You’re safe. Let’s get you both the fuck out of here.”
Gramps shuffled forward slowly and then hugged Ajax in the tightest embrace of his life. “Lead the way.”