Edge of Reason (EDGE Security Series Book 2) (5 page)

The bare-bones interior of a Herc wasn’t a comfy place to sleep, with its webbing jump seats and the noise of the aircraft throbbing in Cat’s teeth. The cold at this altitude sank into her bones, making sleep even more difficult. They also all wore oxygen masks to prevent hypoxia and carried supplemental oxygen on the jump. She was still able to doze a bit, having learned long ago to sleep when and where she could.

She was confident she knew the mission. The HAHO night drop was possibly the hardest part. A hop and pop always held dangers. Frostbite, life-threatening hypoxia, and chute failure were only some of them. Once in theatre they’d meet the asset, get his info, and hump it out to their exfil thirty klicks north to the border, where a Black Hawk would pick them up. Hopefully, they’d even have the young doctor in tow.
 

The jump master—a squat, square man—shook her out of her doze. “Twenty minutes. Oxygen check.”

She checked her oxygen flow through her mask and gave a thumbs up. Time to start preparing. She stood, stretching her arms high and cracking her neck. “Any new weather systems, chief?” she asked over the comm system.

“Skies are clear, ma’am,” the jump master replied.

In the air, the jump master ruled. He could abort their mission if he felt the jump unsafe in any way. But according to him, the weather was holding clear—good news, since it was wet season in Nigeria.

Cat already wore her protective jumpsuit to shield her from the cold. Now was the time to double check each other’s packs, chutes, and lines.
 

She tapped Marc and Zach’s shoulders where they sat slumped against the cabin wall of the Herc. Rhys’s eyes opened before she even touched him.
 

“Twenty minutes,” she said.

Marc and Zac paired up checking each other while she as team leader took the new guy. She checked Rhys’s harnesses and his attached drop bag, being thorough as she tugged at the shoulder, leg, and waist straps. She made sure his weapon was tied against his side out of the way of his oxygen tank, before checking the drop bag attached to his front and strapped in front of his thighs.
 

She gave him a thumbs up and then he did the same for her, double and triple checking her harnesses. She stepped back when he went to check her parachute for a fourth time. “I think I’m good, Lucky.”
 

“Just wanted to be sure,” he said, and his hands flexed.
 

She stared hard at him. He was feeling protective, and that wasn’t a good thing. Teammates had to have each other’s backs, but they also had to trust each other to get the job done. If Rhys felt too protective then he might second-guess her or her orders. It had happened to her in the past, when men she’d been assigned to work with hadn’t been able to overcome the desire to protect a woman. It caused strife among the team and she now knew the warning signs.
 

This was a simple mission, and a seasoned SEAL shouldn’t be tense. Cat looked at Rhys, whose hands still flexed and clenched. He kept sneaking peeks at her and his mouth would open like he wanted to say something, but he never did.

Her gut twisted and the skin at the back of her neck prickled. Marc and Zach noticed Rhys’s preoccupation, too. If they started watching each other instead of paying attention to the mission, this was going to end up as a shit show.
 

She growled into her mask. Not her mission.
 

She stood in front of Rhys. “Channel two, sailor.” She wanted him on a private comm link.

As soon as he flipped the switch, she let him have it. “Whiskey tango foxtrot, Lucky?”

“What do you mean, what the fuck?” he asked, his eyes widening behind his goggles.

“You’re acting like this is your first jump. What. The. Fuck?”

“I’m fine.”

She shook her head. “Don’t give me that shit. We’re about to go into the mission. We can all see you’re tense. And unless you’re the only SEAL to never do a covert night jump, then you’re worried about working with me.”

“Fuck,” he said, anger lighting his eyes. “Fine. Have you led missions before? Have you done HAHOs?”

“You’re asking me now for my fucking resume?” she said. “Just curious, but do you trust Marc and Zach? Do you want their resumes too?”

He hesitated, and that told her everything. He did trust Marc and Zach. And he didn’t trust her. Obviously he was trying to spare her feelings, or some shit like that.
 

“If you trust the men,” she snapped, “then trust me. I have the same experience level, but I’ve led more missions than either of them. How the fuck do you think I became team leader?”

He didn’t answer, but his angry eyes told her everything. She sucked in a breath, feeling almost as if he’d punched her.

“I earned this position,” she growled. “I am
not
a fucking quota and I certainly didn’t sleep my way here.”

“I didn’t sa—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she said, rage boiling. “You listen to me and you do exactly what I say down there. Or I swear, I’ll leave you to guard the DZ.”
 

She switched back to the main channel. Marc and Zach watched her. “You good, Valkyrie?” asked Zach, his compassionate gaze at odds with the sight of his large frame kitted out with 150 pounds of weapons and gear. He stood as if he didn’t carry any extra weight at all.
 

Zach had been with her the longest. They’d met in the Canadian Special Operations Regiment. He’d been one of the first to treat her fairly, and for that he’d always be one of her closest friends.
 

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, willing her emotions away. A mission was no time to have a temper tantrum. As much as she wanted to pound the shit out of something, that would have to wait.

“I’m good,” she replied, her voice steady. “Let’s fly.”
 

The jump master gave the signal and they made their way back to the ramp as it lowered, moving awkwardly under the weight of all the gear and the packing necessary for a balanced jump. Red lights lined the ramp on either side.

Freezing air rushed around them, biting at any exposed skin. The ground was lost in the dark. With no illumination below, it looked like they were jumping into a black oblivion lit only by the flashing lights on their plane’s wings. It was truly a leap of faith.

She shivered in anticipation. Nothing was better than a night jump, and she wasn’t going to let Rhys’s caveman attitude get to her or this mission.

“Radio check.” While this wasn’t a complicated mission, she needed to stay vigilant and not lose focus again.
 

“Five by five, Valkyrie,” Rhys said, his voice sounding clear in her ear bud inside her helmet. She let the bit of edge in his voice pass.
 

Zach and Marc checked in and the team lined up behind her. She checked her heading in her GPS and the wind speed, doing some mental calculations-trying to enjoy the howling wind, knowing she would be steaming in the heat very soon.
 

“Fifteen seconds,” the jump master said.

Cat balanced her weight on her toes, ready to jump.
 

The ramp lights turned green. The jump master extended his arm, pointing at the ramp. “Go. Go. Go.”

“Time to fly,” she said.

She leapt, arching her back, thrusting out her arms and legs, almost spread-eagled. Speed and turbulence hit. The wind tore at her as she rushed toward the ground, letting the darkness swallow her.

Rhys watched Cat leap from the plane and disappear into the night. He jumped right after her, Marc and Zach on his heels. They each had an infrared light attached to their helmets so they could track each other in the darkness with their NVGs on.
 

The wind tore into every crevice in his jumpsuit and pack, cutting with an icy blade into his skin and roaring its fury. Frostbite was a real danger at this altitude. Even so, the rush of falling at 120 miles per hour set his heart thumping. He loved jumping and usually grinned his whole way down.
 

Not this time.

His gut twisted with worry. Not for himself—his rucksack felt balanced and so did he, which meant no uncontrolled spinning. He glanced at Cat and resisted the urge to streamline his body to get closer to her. That would be suicide if their chutes opened too close. Below him, she pulled her chute. It filled perfectly and something inside him eased.

He looked at his altimeter, attached to his left forearm like a giant watch. Twenty-seven thousand feet. They only had a little more than ten seconds of free fall on this jump before they’d glide the twenty-five miles to the DZ, near the village. Cat had chosen a small clearing for the drop zone, one that shouldn’t pose problems as long as the weather held.
 

He brought his right hand to the ripcord and put his left behind his head to balance. Then he spread both arms wide again, pulling his chute at the same time.
 

The jolt of the chute opening threw him hard and even though he’d been expecting it, the harness wrapped around his legs still dug into his groin. He’d be sore through his shoulders tomorrow, but he’d still take the thrill of a hop and pop over a regular jump any day.
 

The release tugged him upward and the roaring sound of the wind lessened as his chute opened fully and he began to glide. Not that he could hear much with his helmet and oxygen mask. He used the waist toggles to steer and followed Cat’s lead. A quick glance over his shoulder and he spotted both Marc and Zach’s chutes open above him. Then he checked his GPS and heading, making sure they were on course. That wasn’t him not trusting Cat—every special ops soldier checked their own altimeter and GPS on a HAHO.
 

But he had to stop himself from verbally checking in with her. He wondered if she’d done many of these jumps. Would she release her drop bag on time?
 

He growled. What the fuck was wrong with him? He hadn’t been this stressed about a jump since the first time he’d done one. He had to stop thinking of her as someone breakable, someone who needed help. She was his fucking team leader, and he’d better get his head screwed on right or he could fuck up this whole mission.
 

Ten minutes into the glide, Rhys checked his GPS. “Valkyrie, we need to correct our bearing by two degrees.”

A long, drawn-out sigh came through his earpiece. Definitely Cat.
 

Then he heard Zach’s deep chuckle. “Boy, you are in for it.”

“Lucky,” Cat said, using his call sign now that the mission had started. “I have the GPS coordinates for the DZ. There is also a ten-kilometer-per-hour wind from the south, hence my bearing is altered slightly to accommodate it. Do you have any other questions?”

By the time she’d finished speaking, a dangerous edge had grown in her voice. “Negative, Valkyrie.” He wasn’t stupid.

They didn’t speak much after that. And that was okay. He loved the quiet tranquility of a jump before a mission. At twelve thousand feet, he pulled his oxygen mask off and relished breathing fresh crisp air.
 

He managed to stay quiet until he spotted the clearing. Two thousand feet and dropping fast. The wind shifted and the words came out before he could stop them. “Watch the wind, Valkyrie,” he said over the radio. “It’s shifted to the west. It’ll add to your landing speed.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lucky.”

Marc snickered over the comms.

At five hundred feet he toggled and trimmed his chute, turning into the wind to help reduce his speed. His teammates did the same. He spared a quick glance and saw Cat already on the ground disengaging from her chute.

He lowered his drop bag so he could release it before he landed and it wouldn’t tangle his legs. At sixty feet he braked.

The ground rushed up at him. He hit, rolled, and bounced up. The chute dragged him a couple of steps before he controlled it. He shook out his legs-numb from hanging in a harness for thirty minutes-as he unhooked himself and started hauling in his chute. His drop bag waited about thirty yards away. He pulled his ruck out and stuffed his parachute and jumpsuit inside.
 

When he looked up, Cat stood in front of him, her drop bag already buried under dirt and brush at the edge of the clearing. “Can you do this, Lucky?” she asked.
 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, can you trust my judgment and skills?”
 

He couldn’t see much of her expression in the dark, but there was no anger there, just a calm focus. “I can do this,” Rhys said. “I’ve got your back.”

Now she scowled as if he’d said the wrong thing. But he did have her back. He’d protect her from whatever came their way.
 

Cat shook off her frustration. It would probably just take time for Rhys to learn to trust her skills as a soldier and leader. She just hoped they had that time.
 

They buried their drop bags with their chutes on the north side of the small clearing. It was a clear night, but the moon was only a sliver, which worked to their benefit. She pointed east. “Doc and Spooky, head to the village and give me a sitrep.”
 

They nodded and took off into the growth of stunted trees that passed for woods in Northern Nigeria.

“You’re with me,” she told Lucky. It’d be best if she kept him close so she could keep an eye on him and rein him in if needed.
 

She ran southeast, her rifle ready and her eyes clear behind her NVGs. After three kilometers, they approached the target location and she slowed to a silent walk. A small red light in the distance caught her eye before it disappeared. She directed Rhys’s attention to it. One hundred meters. She crept forward, Rhys right behind her. She stopped beside a tree and held up a fist. Rhys stopped too.
 

Ahead of them, the trees thinned. A two-rut road wound from the north where the village would be. A jeep had stopped on it and a man leaned against it. Smoking.

The flare of the cigarette shone red like a beacon when he inhaled.