Fighting Redemption(29)

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared at the bunk above him and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“The first one says she’s home safe.”

Ryan closed his eyes for a moment.

“Did she mention me?” Kyle yelled out from across the hall.

“She says she hopes you live a very long and miserable life,” Jake called back. “Oh, and she brought you back a penguin.”

“Fuck yeah,” Ryan heard him say. “I’m in.”

Ryan raised a brow at Jake and Jake shook his head, his lips twitching.

“The second?” he prompted him.

Jake’s eyes searched Ryan’s face. “She split with Ian.”

“What? When?” With all hope of sleep gone, Ryan sat up and swung his legs over the bed.

“When she got back.”

“Fuck. He didn’t—”

“No,” Jake cut him off. “I asked the same thing. She says he didn’t hurt her.”

Ryan rubbed his brow. “Is she okay?”

“You know Fin. Mum says she’s buried herself in work.”

Ryan stood up and opened the cupboard beside his bed. He yanked out a shirt and tugged it over his head, tucking his tags underneath the thin cotton.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked.

He grabbed his shoes. “Going for a run.”

“Thought you were going to have a sleep,” he said as Ryan tugged his shoes on.

“Yeah, I can’t see that happening right now, Tanner.”

“Kendall?” Jake called out as Ryan reached the door.

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

Jake sat there, his eyes steady. “I love the two of you. I just want you both happy, you know what I’m saying, don’t you?”

Ryan pressed his lips together and gave him a short nod. “I hear you.”

As he walked down the narrow, bomb-proofed hallway of their base, he heard Jake start strumming his guitar again.

Eight days later, after heavy preparation and planning, their team— including the addition of American snipers—was inserted into the mountains by a vehicle-mounted patrol. It was perfect timing: the night black, the sky clear, and the air cool.

Ryan cleared his mind as he leaped to the ground and weighted himself down with his pack. This patrol might solely be reconnaissance, but it was going to be done inside enemy territory. Intelligence told them Taliban fighters near the village of Khaz Uruzgan were planning something big. Ryan’s team was going to gather information that would flush those bastards out.

Jim, one of the snipers that sat opposite Ryan on the drive, gave him a short nod as he slid his own pack on. Ryan returned it. He liked the Americans. They were brash and loyal to their allies, which was pretty f*cking important when you were caught under heavy fire.

Monty pulled their team together. “All set?”

Ryan gave the thumbs up.

“Right,” he said.

Beside him Jake grinned. “Let’s go f*ck shit up.”

Ryan fell into step behind Monty, Jake following behind him, as they began the long climb.

Ten hours later and they were eighty-seven kilometres northwest of their base at Tarin Kowt and high into the mountains.

“Ready for that nanna nap yet, Kendall?”

Fuck. Jake sounded barely winded. Asshole.

Exhausted, Ryan steadied his breath. “Not me, Tanner, but if you’re tired just say the word. I’ll read you a story and tuck you in.”

Jake chuckled as their feet crunched softly over the rocky terrain.

Five minutes later, Ryan heard a soft, warning click from Monty and he froze. The entire team behind him halted and silence reigned to the point you couldn’t hear a single breath.

Monty gave the thumb down danger close signal, and Ryan felt tension rise thick in the air.

His heart rate climbed rapidly with anticipation. Like flicking a switch, his exhaustion disappeared, his vision narrowing in the fading darkness on a man fifteen metres ahead.

They weren’t expecting foreign enemies this high in the hills, yet they spotted a man approaching, full beard, AK-47 raised and ready. Knowing it was the weapon of choice for the Taliban, Monty ordered quickly, “Shoot to kill, Kendall.”

His entire team dropped and found immediate cover as Ryan stood alone, heart in his throat, his eyes trained on the enemy.

Ryan raised his assault rifle, his breathing harsh to his own ears, and with narrowed eyes and steady hands, he opened fire.

Enemy fire returned rapidly. Ryan felt the heat of the bullets tear past him, knowing he was seconds away from one ripping into him and bringing him down.

As his bullets found their target, Ryan watched the Taliban fighter jerk, blood exploding outwards as he fell hard, shock the last fleeting image on his face.

“Enemy dead,” Ryan roared.

From his corner vision, Ryan caught another Taliban fighter—rocket-propelled grenade in hand—ducking and weaving through the brush ahead.

“Twelve metres full left, one enemy,” he yelled.

Instincts kicking in, Ryan dived for cover and moments later a PKM machine gun opened fire on their patrol and the battle was on.

“Fuck,” he heard Jake growl beside him as they returned fire.

Fuck was right. Their team had trekked right into a nest of insurgents.