Free Last Stand: Patriots (Book 2) by William H. Weber Page B

looked up with cold determination. “At least twenty, maybe thirty to be safe. We’ll need to strike with overwhelming force, while also keeping enough people to drive all the vehicles back to base. Just keep in mind, there may be casualties if they put up a fight.”
    “I think twenty’ll be more than enough,” Moss countered. “And besides, what’s all this ‘we’ talk? You’re the new kid on the block and now you’re telling us when and how to attack. Last I remember, Sullivan and I were saving your hide from becoming target practice for the Chairman’s men.”
    “I’m not here to tell you folks how to run your business,” John said. “But every indication we have is that our loved ones are being held in Oneida. And only God knows what horrors they’re enduring. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to do whatever it takes to get them back.”
    “We’re all on the same side here, John,” Marshall said, weighing in, “even if it sounds like some of us aren’t. Every soldier we lose on a mission is someone’s father, someone’s husband. We all want what you want. We don’t mind you coming along and helping out, but what Moss here’s trying to make sure of is that you remember who’s in charge.”
    There was a tense moment of silence as John let Marshall’s words settle in. You didn’t make it in the military if someone in your face got you all riled up. He also understood their point. John was in a focused state and sometimes men took that to mean he thought of himself as their boss. But nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing would make John happier than if none of this had happened: the EMP, the battle with Cain and now the loss of the ones he loved most. The thought of breaking off and going it alone wouldn’t get him very far. His ill-fated attempt to infiltrate the town had brought that home loud and clear.
    Through the small group of men assembled around him, John saw Brandon and Gary standing anxiously by the truck. Gary was biting his nails and Brandon had his arms crossed, his hands buried up into his armpits. Splintering from the Patriots now would only set them further back from their goal.
    John put an arm around Marshall’s shoulder. “I don’t want your job, I just want my family back.”
    “Good,” Marshall said, folding the map and tucking it away. He turned to Moss. “Take Sullivan and gather thirty men. We’ll take eight vehicles along with the technical.” He was referring to the pickup with the twin ARs mounted on a pedestal. “In less than an hour I want the ambush in the forest north of Oneida set and ready to spring.”
    For all their talk, it appeared Marshall had taken John’s advice. John only hoped the plan would work.
    Just then a n image of Diane’s battered face floated up before his eyes. His imagination was getting the better of him, a torturous impulse he’d tried hard to suppress since the kidnapping. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help wonder if she and the kids were all right.
    Involuntarily, John’s hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers curling around the si lver necklace.
    Stay strong, honey. It won’t be long.

Chapter 1 8
    Diane sat on the cot inside what appeared to be Oneida’s county jailhouse, wondering how long it would be before John would discover where they were and try to free them. She’d heard shots the other day and looked through the barred windows to see men on horseback galloping in the fields east of town. Not long after, she’d spotted a pair of trucks in the distance and assumed they were part of a group that’d taken a wrong turn. For a moment her heart had leapt with the notion that it was John coming to break them out, only to have that hope dashed when the trucks turned and drove away at high speed.
    Sharing a cell with Diane was Kay Appleby, who seemed to be trying her best to put on a tough exterior, although she’d been crying secret tears ever since being thrown in here.
    In the adjacent