Free Heatseeker (Atrati) by Lucy Monroe

Kadin didn’t bother saying so. Doc was happy with the other woman’s progress, and that was all that mattered.
    They’d kept Rachel hydrated with sports drinks and his favorite protein powder. It tasted like crap mixed with water but had the right balance of nutrients and vitamins. He’d tested it plenty of times in the field himself.
    “Doc, you and I will sit in the back with her. Spazz, you take point with Peace. And, Cowboy, I want you in the cargo deck, keeping an eye on our six.”
    After stowing their gear in the back, leaving just enough room for Cowboy and his rifle with a scope, the rest of them took their positions, and Peace headed the Land Rover down the mountain.
    They were coming into a more populated area when Peace asked, “The airport or the safe house, boss?”
    “Safe house. Rachel’s not going to leave Africa without Jamila Massri.”
    The tension in the truck ratcheted up.
    “She needs proper medical treatment,” Eva said mildly, though her expression belied any sense of relaxation her voice might have implied.
    “Rachel’s priorities are the job and that girl.”
    “And what are your priorities?” Spazz asked from the front without taking his eyes off the rapidly darkening landscape beyond the windshield.
    Cowboy shifted just slightly in his position behind Kadin, but his rifle remained at the ready. “Our orders were to bring her out.”
    “I’m not leaving without her, and she’s not leaving without the Egyptian woman.”
    No one said anything to that. And Kadin wasn’t sure what the silence meant.
    If Roman had made that announcement, there would have been no doubt in his mind that they all would have followed the other man wherever he led. Chief had inspired that kind of loyalty.
    Kadin, on the other hand, wasn’t sure where, exactly, he stood with his team. They’d been together in the same Atrati squad for two years, some of them longer than that, but he’d only been their captain for the past six months.
    Before that, he’d just been one of them, a damn fine weapon and teammate but not their leader.
    Part of him breathed out a sigh of relief when Peace passed the turnoff to the airport and headed toward the safe house.
    Cowboy silently camouflaged his weapon, keeping it lowered but still at the ready while the other team members peeled off outer layers of clothing. Grabbing scarves and other items that made them look more like tourists than an extraction team, they prepared for driving through the streets of Marrakech.
    All the while, Rachel dozed beside him, her breathing soft and regular.
    In the midst of an op he could not afford to screw up, he was assailed by memories of a time when that sound had been what drew him into his own sleep.
    Sleep not haunted by the eyes of the dead. From the time before killing became his calling card.
    Cowboy was a damned fine marksman, but Trigger was better. He could shoot anything from a Glock to a grenade launcher with deadly accuracy.
    What he couldn’t do was jettison memories that were more hindrance than help and always had been.
    Their Land Rover didn’t arouse any interest that he could see on the crowded streets of the city bathed in the artificial light of night.
    Peace pulled the truck into the alleyway behind the safe house. Spazz got out and did quick recon before signaling the rest of them that it was safe to exit the vehicle.
    Rachel woke, blinking, her breath speeding up as she acclimated herself to her new surroundings. Kadin was impressed by how silent she was as she did it. Not so much as a gasp passed her lips.
    “Where are we?” she finally asked in that ruined voice that made him want to kiss her and make it all better.
    But he was a warrior, not a miracle worker, and even the most mind-blowing kiss wasn’t going to erase Rachel’s memories or her pain as she healed.
    “Safe house.”
    She relaxed a tiny bit, though no one else would have noticed it. Kadin, tuned in to the slightest nuance with this woman,