Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(102)

The shooting indicated Wolf’s team had engaged the Tangos, but the absence of the motherf*cking mercenaries on the ground level was a pressurized itch down the back of his neck.

Why the f*ck would the whole lot of them camp out above?

Cosky and Zane joined him in the hall, and in unison they moved toward the stairwell at the back.

“Ground level is secure,” Mac said quietly into his mic as they closed on the door to the stairs. “We’re moving up.”

A burst of weapon fire came through the mic and then Wolf’s quiet acknowledgment echoed in his ears.

Mac slid into position beside the door leading to the stairs, while Cosky crouched to the side, next to Mac’s knees, offering as small a target as possible. Mac eased open the door enough for Cosky to scope the space with his rifle.

“We have a dead body,” Cosky said quietly.

Zane, who’d positioned himself across from Mac, reached for the door handle and pulled the door wide open. Cosky shot up the stairs, clearing the splayed, bloody body with a quick leap. Zane swung into the staircase behind him.

After a quick glance around the corner and up the next flight of stairs, Cosky pulled back and settled his shoulder against the wall. “Clear ahead.”

From his position at the bottom of the stairs, Mac nodded toward the corpse. “One of the scientists?”

It was a good bet. The body was wearing a white lab coat. As he waited for Zane to identify the body—they’d been shown photographs of Dr. Ansell’s kidnapped team—Mac swept the hall behind them. Rawls would have taken out anyone trying to access the building behind them, but it never paid to rely completely on someone else.

“Dr. Benton,” Zane said. “He’s been dead awhile. The blood’s almost dry.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mac said grimly, sourness rolling in his gut.

There went the rescue mission. If Benton had been killed, the likelihood that the rest of his team had suffered the same fate was exceptionally high.




“Shouldn’t we move up?” Faith whispered. “I need to be closer to the prototype to interface with the generator’s static field.”

“Soon,” Rawls whispered back. “Mac will radio when the buildin’ is secure.”

“But I’m of no help way back here if they run into problems.” Faith’s voice rose slightly.

Rawls’s hand tightened on her arm, holding her back in case she got the insane idea to rush in on her own. Hell, they didn’t even know if the machine was operational, or if it was, whether anyone had turned it on. It could damn well be that there was absolutely no need for her to get anywhere near the damn building.

“We wait until Mac gives the okay,” Rawls said, his voice flat, unbending.

The strategy they’d collectively come up with during the last meeting had given Faith the best protection possible, but it depended on the rest of his team guarding her, and Faith only accessing the building after the premises had been locked down. But his teammates were currently one hundred yards away and otherwise engaged. No way in hell was he letting her near that damn building until he was certain it was safe.

The soft crack of a branch snapping sounded behind him. Instinctively he shoved Faith down and pivoted, crouching in front of her. The muffled report of a suppressed semiautomatic pistol echoed through the trees, and chunks from the tree trunk behind them rained down on his head.

As he raised his rifle and sighted on the crisp, green, glowing body partially obscured by the luminous shrubbery, he shielded Faith as best he could.




“We’ve got a Tango wedged in the stairway between levels two and three. Copy?”

Wolf’s grim voice filled Mac’s headset.

Translation: the motherf*cker was playing peek-a-boo with a semiautomatic, and Big Bad Wolf’s team couldn’t line up a clear shot.

“Copy,” Mac said, reading Wolf’s request loud and clear.

The motherf*cker shooting at them would find it much more difficult to fend off two approaching flanks.

“Zane, stick around down here. Watch our six.” He motioned Cosky forward. “Let’s head up.”

They climbed the stairs cautiously. Christ only knew how many other motherf*ckers there were entrenched in this place. Rather than continuing up to the third floor and engaging the Tango immediately, they exited at the second floor for a quick sweep.

The bastard in the stairwell wasn’t going anywhere. Cosky, who was stationed at the entrance, would ensure that. And if for some ungodly reason his lieutenant missed—f*ck, Zane would take care of him when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

But if there were more motherf*ckers hiding on the second floor—hell, missing them could prove disastrous for everyone. As it turned out, the second level—more offices, from the looks of the dented, steel furniture—was clear.

Where the hell is everyone?

He rejoined Cosky at the door to the stairway. Sporadic gunfire filtered out through the heavy, fortified door.

“Remember, we need the bastard alive,” he mouthed the words since their best tactic was stealth and silence.

Cosky nodded and gently eased the door open. Mac scoped the stairs going up. No sign of the Tango, but from the sound of that AK-47, he was right around the bend.

They needed a distraction.

“Cover,” he said softly into his headset, grunting in satisfaction as a steady barrage of gunfire pounded the stairwell.