Free Digitalis by Ronie Kendig

one member, bringing on a newb, put every one of them in jeopardy.
    Every. Bloody. One.
    Until the team had its sixth body, Olin would have to pray they weren’t called upon. Being one man down—
    “Lambert?”
    Olin looked up from the chaos spread before him.
    The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs stood in the doorway, worry gouged into his weathered face. “Been to the carnival lately?”
    At hearing the code phrase and with his spine vertical, Olin tugged his jacket straight. So much for laying low. “Love the cotton candy.” Hot and cold swirled in Olin’s gut as he gathered the documents into the file and stored them in the safe. He couldn’t tell the chairman they’d lost a man. The information would be a blinking, neon-lit trail straight to the team.
    The chairman pivoted and left—and with him went Olin’s hope. He’d wanted time to let the team heal and fill in the missing man. But tonight’s venture to the carnival would launch one more mission.
    They’ll never make it out alive
.
    No. He’d assembled that team. Men with brutal dedication and loyalty. A group that functioned with the perfection and beauty of a stealth bomber. And they’d better.
    Or he’d be looking for more than one replacement.

CHAPTER 5
    D ark brown eyes. Curly hair. Blood dripping down the face.
    Colton shifted, ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, and readjusted on the chair that felt like a rock. Pressing his head back, he fought for another measure of sleep.
    Almost instantly, more eyes. This time, caramel. Haunting.
    They swam through his mind amid screams. Amid rapid-fire. As a sniper, he came eye to eye with every one of his victims. Faces of those he’d killed.
Neutralized
was the sanitary term that made politicians feel better. To him, that was only a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. He’d killed. Yes, each had been mission-integral, but the faces still haunted him.
    He sat up and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. Covering a fisted hand, he pressed his knuckles to his lips and looked out the window of the private plane. And closed his eyes. Prayed once again that God would forgive him and allow a good night’s sleep. Save him from the dark cloud that invariably descended and devoured his soul, tempting him to end it all, give up on the emptiness that left him thinking life would be better off without him.
    It was foolish to focus on those thoughts. A slap to the face of a God who’d created him and loved him. He knew that. He did. But … the thoughts were still there, battling him. Weighting him.
    Something hit his shoulder and snapped him out of the private moment. He yanked toward the aisle seat.
    Max dropped into the chair. “Take a look,” he said, handing him a phone. “Syd sent photos of Dillon’s first tooth.”
    The chubby face drew a smile into Colton’s face. “Good thing he looks like his mother.”
    “Amen.” Max laughed but grew serious as he eyed his son’s image. “So what’s eating you?”
    Colton glanced down. “Nothin’.”
    “Come on, man.” Max shifted to face him better. “We’ve done enough time in the bush for me to know something’s off.” He nudged him with an elbow. “Besides, we’re friends. You saw me through a lot. I’m going to do the same for you. Now, cough it up.”
    With a ragged breath, Colton supposed the guy was right. He studied the industrial-grade blue carpet below his feet. Talking about this could get him yanked from the team. But what could he do? He’d tried everything else. “Each hit is getting harder … after.”
    “You’re getting old.”
    “True.” He’d be thirty-seven in a few months. But it was more than that. “I see them. In my dreams. In the day.” The only other image that even remotely countered the oppression of the dead was a beautiful, caramel-eyed woman. He hadn’t talked to Piper since she’d jumped into his arms after Firefox foaled. She’d been so excited about the foal, and he loved that she seemed at ease with animals