style="font-size:15px;"> “Yes, sir.”
She saluted, but he had already turned to stride back down the hill.
Colonel Gantry smiled at her. “Trust me, Sergeant. His bark is a lot worse than his bite.”
* * *
Dean paced the briefing room where his men would soon assemble. Correction, he said in his head, men and woman. He opened Sergeant Hanson’s personnel file on the desk, despite having read it several times already. His admiration for her had increased considerably on reading that she had successfully taken out a suicide bomber in Baghdad, saving the lives of hundreds of civilians—an act for which she received the Army Commendation Medal.
He had been taken aback the previous day, seeing her skills for himself, the way she was so patient, waiting for the target to appear, her discipline in lying low, never once giving away her position. He had to admit that it was an impressive display of exquisite marksmanship. If only she wasn’t a woman, he couldn’t help thinking. He had no objection to women serving in the military; he just wasn’t sure of his own ability to serve alongside them. His instinct was to protect women and shield them from danger. It was something he’d done during his entire teenage years, having continually guarded his mother and sister from his violent bully of a father. As he grew into a strong, muscled young man, he was able to use his own power to counteract that of his father’s, but the image of his mother and sister cowering from yet another of his dad’s drunken rages had been burned into his mind. By the time he was sixteen, he’d developed such a strong protective instinct that he knew his path lay in the military, serving those who needed defending the most. To wear the green beret was his one true desire, the ultimate symbol of male strength and prowess. Sergeant Hanson may be the best sniper for this job but, in his world, it was men who provided the safe havens. And the one person he wanted to place at the center of his safe haven at that moment was Cara Hanson herself. She had awakened feelings that he would need to guard against.
A knock on the open door broke through his thoughts. He closed the file and pushed it to one side, along with his feelings.
Cara Hanson stood in the doorway, her bright blue eyes staring straight ahead as she saluted.
“Sergeant Hanson, reporting for duty, sir.”
He flicked his eyes over her body, which appeared even smaller in stature than the previous day. She looked very different without the ghillie suit and was wearing standard-issue fatigues. He was now able to see her face in its fullness, sun kissed and healthy. Her shiny blond hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and Cupid’s-bow mouth. As a deep, primal emotion stirred within him, he wondered if he had made a grave mistake in allowing her to enter his perfectly ordered domain.
“At ease, Sergeant. Come in, take a seat.”
Two more soldiers entered the room, and Dean rose purposefully.
“Sergeant Hanson, I would like you to meet Sergeants Gomez and Hicks. We’ll be operating as a four-man team for this mission.” He looked toward the two male sergeants, who were exchanging looks of surprise while shaking Cara’s hand.
“Sergeant Hanson has been granted special dispensation to serve, on a one-off basis, as a combat sniper for this mission,” he explained.
Female operatives were a rare species in Special Forces and he knew she would be regarded with curiosity. Even he was curious about her but he knew that, within forty-eight hours, she would be back in her regiment and out of his life. Keep it professional. Don’t get too involved. That was his mantra.
The soldiers took their seats, and Dean handed them a photograph of a man wearing the same distinctive green beret as each of the men in the room.
“This,” he said, “is your target.”
He heard a collective gasp from the room.
He raised his eyes to his team. “This is Major Christopher Moore from Tenth Special Forces Group. Twelve months ago, he infiltrated a terrorist cell in Ohio with the intention of supplying information back to the U.S. Government regarding intended targets. Six months ago he went rogue and disappeared from our radar. Intelligence has confirmed that he’s turned against us and is now assisting the cell, helping them purchase illegal weapons and bomb-making equipment. In short, he’s gone to the Dark Side.”
Sergeant Hicks raised his hand. “How do we know this for certain, sir?”
“The terrorist cell in Ohio was raided three months ago by the military. Secret documents recovered there confirmed our worst fears. They state that Major Moore revealed himself as a spy and pledged his allegiance to the group.” Dean walked to the desk at the front of the small, windowless room and placed the photograph on it. His shoulders dropped. “Major Moore used to be my commanding officer. We trained together. I would never have believed he could turn his back on the Green Berets, but there is no place for sentiment in this mission. He is a very dangerous and wily enemy. We’ve been trying to track him ever since the raid in Ohio, and we finally have our shot at taking him out.”
Cara raised her hand.
“Yes, sergeant,” he responded.
“Is termination the only option here?” she asked. “Could we not take him into custody?”
Dean sighed heavily. “Sergeant, if that was an option I would take it. Major Moore is a highly trained Special Forces soldier and won’t come in without a fight. We know he’ll be taking part in a weapons-smuggling operation tomorrow in the Four Corners region. These weapons are seriously powerful, capable of killing hundreds in one deadly swoop. We can’t risk his escape. I’m afraid we have no choice.”
He felt his chest tighten, and his heart heaved. He straightened his back. “It’s always difficult when faced with a soldier who’s turned his back on his country, but this man is no longer on our side. He is no longer a patriot. He is a terrorist, so let’s put personal feelings to one side.”
Easier said than done, he thought. Major Chris Moore had been his loyal friend as well as his commanding officer. He’d thought Chris was a man of honor, a man of integrity, a man of faith. But he’d been wrong, wrong to believe that God’s plan would spare him the pain of facing his best friend as an enemy in combat. After months of prayer, he’d eventually reasoned that God had turned His back on him, and he would need to trust in his own judgment rather than wait for a Heavenly answer that would never come. He turned to his soldiers and drew a deep breath.
“We reconvene at 0600 tomorrow morning for Q&A. Read your brief, get some rest and prepare your minds.”
His eyes scanned the three soldiers and came to rest on Cara. He watched her for a few seconds as she studied the photograph intently, her face betraying a sadness that she’d successfully locked tightly away from view. Her face was open, readable and it momentarily mesmerized him. She looked up and caught his eyes upon her, and he felt her gaze penetrating his shell to the tortured core within. He quickly looked away and walked purposefully from the room, creating a draft that caught the loose strands of hair falling around her cheeks.
Glancing back from the doorway, he wondered what thoughts were going through her head. They were revealed to him when he saw her finger trace the smile of the young soldier in the photograph, before she hung her head to her chest. In that moment he felt a kinship with her that he’d never experienced before.
* * *
Cara
