Chapter 1 - The Tarmac
The military transport plane taxied slowly toward the edge of the private civilian tarmac.
Rain slashed violently against the thick acrylic windows of the dimly lit cabin.
I stared through the blurred glass at the two sheriff’s cruisers parked near the chain-link fence.
Their light bars were dark, but the exhaust pluming from their tailpipes told me the engines were running.
Cameron Voss wanted me to know that he was watching my every move.
He wanted to prove that a billionaire’s son owned this city, and my elite military background meant absolutely nothing.
I unbuckled my tactical harness and stood up in the red glow of the aircraft.
Three men rose silently beside me.
They were the surviving members of Ghost Squad, the most lethal covert unit in the armed forces.
Miller rolled his broad shoulders and checked the action on his suppressed pistol.
Hayes adjusted his heavy tactical vest, his eyes locked on the cruisers outside.
Carter simply cracked his knuckles, a terrifying sound in the quiet plane.
"They aren't here to give you a ride home, Blake," Miller whispered.
"I know," I replied, grabbing my heavy canvas duffel bag.
The rear ramp of the transport lowered with a mechanical whine, letting in the freezing Virginia wind.
We did not walk down the ramp like normal, expected passengers.
We slipped through the side maintenance hatch, dropping silently into the shadows beneath the massive wings.
The two deputies in the lead cruiser were drinking coffee and laughing loudly.
They were looking at the main terminal doors, waiting for me to walk through the metal detectors.
They never even saw us coming.
Miller and Hayes flanked the second vehicle, moving like phantoms in the torrential rain.
I stepped up to the driver's side window of the first cruiser and tapped the glass with the barrel of my weapon.
The deputy spilled his coffee, his eyes going wide with sudden terror.
He reached for his radio, but I smashed the window with a single strike of my elbow.
I grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him halfway out of the shattered window.
"Where is my wife?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the sound of the storm.
The deputy choked, his hands clawing helplessly at my iron grip.
"She's at St. Jude's!" he gasped, spitting rainwater and blood onto the door panel.
"You're lying," I said softly, pressing the cold steel of my gun against his jaw.
Carter tapped my shoulder and pointed to the glowing police laptop inside the cruiser.
The screen displayed a live tracking map of a private, heavily armored ambulance.
"They moved her, Blake," Carter said grimly.
The bleeding deputy let out a wet, desperate laugh.
May you like
"You're too late, soldier," he wheezed.
"Mr. Voss already ordered the transfer to his private medical facility, and you will never find her."
