Free Down Range (Shadow Warriors - Book 2) by Lindsay McKenna

take photos wherever I go. I thought Reza would like photos of his five kids and his wife.” Her voice broke. “It was the least I could do…. He loved his family so much….”
    Morgan drew in an uneven breath. “I was in this area with two different black-ops teams. Reza doted on his children, and my God, how they loved him in return. His wife was the sweetest, kindest person you would ever meet. If a widow who was starving and begging for a meal came to their door, she’d be welcomed and fed. A lot of the villagers won’t feed widows because food is so scarce.” Morgan rubbed her cheeks dry and gave him a broken smile. “It feels good to do something kind in return for him, Jake. Reza is the epitome of the Islamic belief of living your life through your heart.”
    Jake nodded, far more touched than he expected. The fact Morgan would think to bring photos back to Reza made him want to reach out, pull her into his arms and simply hold her. A well of suffering rose through Jake as he stood on the brink of doing just that. Dragging in a breath, he shoved all his needs down deep within himself. In an effort to lighten the moment, Jake said, “Sounds like you read Rumi, the Sufi poet?”
    Her brows rose. “You know about Rumi?”
    “Sure,” Jake said, pretending his pride was hurt. “I might be a country bumpkin of sorts, but I am widely read.” SEALs tended to be voracious readers about foreign countries they worked in.
    Morgan felt his warmth and care in that moment. “Now it’s my turn to apologize.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” Jake gestured to the three horses. “That one has an American saddle on it.”
    Morgan saw him eyeing it with great interest. “Yes, and it’s mine. I brought it over three years ago. I got sick and tired of my butt being carved up by nails and wood splinters in my behind from those damned Afghan saddles.”
    He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
    “You didn’t ask me,” Morgan pointed out, untying the reins to her gelding and leading it out of the house.
    Jake grinned. He untied the other two horses and led them outside. To the east, the Hindu Kush sat like silent, powerful giants, a pink dawn outlining the very tops of the snow-covered peaks. Reza had just finished packing their gear and threw a dark brown tarp over the contents. With more light, Jake could see it was a long, narrow valley, green and fertile. A river ran through it, providing irrigation so that the villages would have water for their crops.
    Reza smiled and tied the lead line of the packhorse to the back of the saddle on the horse he was going to ride.
    Jake saw Morgan already on the sat, satellite, phone to J-bad, calling in and letting Vero know they’d made contact with Reza and were now going to head south through the valley. She was efficient, he decided, watching her place the sat phone in the leather saddlebag behind the cantle of her saddle.
    Jake gave Reza a radio headset to wear. They would each wear the headgear and be on the same frequency so they would always be in contact. The send-receive was good for up to a mile.
    “We good to go?” he asked, walking over to her.
    “Four square. Vero sounded relieved.”
    “I imagine.” Jake looked around, always uneasy about being out in the open. Taliban and al Qaeda operatives lurked and hid in the scree slopes of every mountain that surrounded this valley. The only thing that they couldn’t do was shoot at them because the distance was too far. Jake was sure they had glass, binoculars, on them. The Taliban would pass the intel along to other Taliban spotters in the area via radio transmissions.
    Reza walked up. “You must know that a goat herder from Dor Babba—” and he pointed south “—saw Khogani yesterday at the snow line with twenty men.”
    Jake nodded. “And we’re headed that way?”
    “Yes,” Reza said. He had a huge pile of clothes draped over his saddle. “Now, you and Wajiha must wear