Read Online Danger Close (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 1) by Marliss Melton - Free Book Online
Authors: Marliss Melton
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out of it, but she'd reminded him of the report due on Friday. With a heavy sigh, he'd handed her the keys to the Jeep and begged her to be careful.
It wasn't until Maddy started driving to the lab that doubts began to percolate. Negotiating the near-impassable and unmarked roads to the remote locations where they gathered samples could be baffling, even with GPS. El Chaco Boreal was the dead last place a young blonde female ought to venture on her own, which was why she donned a grass cowboy hat whenever she worked in the field. The porous border area between Paraguay, Bolivia, and Argentina offered a haven to drug-traffickers, smugglers, and counterfeiters. There were even rumors of Hezbollah extremists training in the area.
Stay out of the hotspots. The memory of Sam's warning made Maddy cringe. It also inspired that same perverse impulse to defy him. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she roared up the Ruta Transchaco, raising the volume on her radio and letting her long hair whip in the wind.
Her mother would have applauded Maddy's work with GEF. Her father stood behind her efforts, for once. Nothing bad was going to happen.
Chapter 4
The 1930's era military installation turned out to be an impressive collection of all-brick buildings encircled by a high wall and boasting large rooms with flaking paint on the walls and unreliable plumbing.
After the SEALs were freed to settle into their barracks, Sam divided his platoon into groups of four, selecting the same three men who'd accompanied him to Matamoros as his roommates. He then picked out the largest room at the head of a long corridor where he claimed the bottom bunk on the right for himself. Testing the hard mattress, he stretched out and tried to ignore Bronco's pointed stare.
"I know that was her, sir," Bronco finally insisted, tossing his rucksack on the bunk over Sam's head. "I'd recognize her anywhere."
The statement wrested Haiku and Bullfrog from a game of rock/paper/scissors as they contended over the lower bunk. "Who's he talking about?" Haiku asked Bullfrog who merely shrugged.
"Madison Scott," Bronco explained, and Sam immediately hushed him.
Bullfrog clearly recognized the name. His intelligent features reflected skepticism. "No way. What would she be doing here?"
"I don't know, but she passed our bus in a Jeep," Bronco insisted. He turned back to Sam. "I'm telling you, that was her, sir."
Sam groaned and briefly closed his eyes. "Shut the door," he requested.
Haiku, a Japanese American, kicked it shut with his heel, muffling the sound of the task unit settling into their new digs.
"Listen." Sam leveled a stern look at his closest colleagues—Chief Brantley Adams, who was called Bronco for his ability to stay atop a wild horse; Petty Officer First Class Jeremiah Winters, also known as Bullfrog for his ability to swim; and First Class Chuck Suzuki, nicknamed Haiku for his depth and brevity. "You heard Master Chief remind us not to rub elbows with the civilians here. So, even if that was Madison Scott—and I'm not saying that it was—I'm not going to reach out to her. She knows what I do, and rumors would start to circulate."
He offered the kind of logic they would understand, though his own reasons for avoiding her were far murkier and had more to do with mistrust than national security.
Bronco folded muscular arms across his lean but powerful chest. Suspicion flattened the customary quirk that rode the corner of his mouth. "What the hell is she even doing here?" he demanded.
Sam shrugged. Good question . "Her father got her a job with an environmental company. She's probably testing the impact of the oil wells on the environment."
"Like she was testing the water in Mexico when the drug lords got the upper hand," Bronco recalled.
"Exactly."
"Why would her father want her working in the vicinity of terrorists?" Bullfrog asked.
Sam sighed. "I don't know. It doesn't make much sense," he admitted, recalling how
It wasn't until Maddy started driving to the lab that doubts began to percolate. Negotiating the near-impassable and unmarked roads to the remote locations where they gathered samples could be baffling, even with GPS. El Chaco Boreal was the dead last place a young blonde female ought to venture on her own, which was why she donned a grass cowboy hat whenever she worked in the field. The porous border area between Paraguay, Bolivia, and Argentina offered a haven to drug-traffickers, smugglers, and counterfeiters. There were even rumors of Hezbollah extremists training in the area.
Stay out of the hotspots. The memory of Sam's warning made Maddy cringe. It also inspired that same perverse impulse to defy him. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she roared up the Ruta Transchaco, raising the volume on her radio and letting her long hair whip in the wind.
Her mother would have applauded Maddy's work with GEF. Her father stood behind her efforts, for once. Nothing bad was going to happen.
Chapter 4
The 1930's era military installation turned out to be an impressive collection of all-brick buildings encircled by a high wall and boasting large rooms with flaking paint on the walls and unreliable plumbing.
After the SEALs were freed to settle into their barracks, Sam divided his platoon into groups of four, selecting the same three men who'd accompanied him to Matamoros as his roommates. He then picked out the largest room at the head of a long corridor where he claimed the bottom bunk on the right for himself. Testing the hard mattress, he stretched out and tried to ignore Bronco's pointed stare.
"I know that was her, sir," Bronco finally insisted, tossing his rucksack on the bunk over Sam's head. "I'd recognize her anywhere."
The statement wrested Haiku and Bullfrog from a game of rock/paper/scissors as they contended over the lower bunk. "Who's he talking about?" Haiku asked Bullfrog who merely shrugged.
"Madison Scott," Bronco explained, and Sam immediately hushed him.
Bullfrog clearly recognized the name. His intelligent features reflected skepticism. "No way. What would she be doing here?"
"I don't know, but she passed our bus in a Jeep," Bronco insisted. He turned back to Sam. "I'm telling you, that was her, sir."
Sam groaned and briefly closed his eyes. "Shut the door," he requested.
Haiku, a Japanese American, kicked it shut with his heel, muffling the sound of the task unit settling into their new digs.
"Listen." Sam leveled a stern look at his closest colleagues—Chief Brantley Adams, who was called Bronco for his ability to stay atop a wild horse; Petty Officer First Class Jeremiah Winters, also known as Bullfrog for his ability to swim; and First Class Chuck Suzuki, nicknamed Haiku for his depth and brevity. "You heard Master Chief remind us not to rub elbows with the civilians here. So, even if that was Madison Scott—and I'm not saying that it was—I'm not going to reach out to her. She knows what I do, and rumors would start to circulate."
He offered the kind of logic they would understand, though his own reasons for avoiding her were far murkier and had more to do with mistrust than national security.
Bronco folded muscular arms across his lean but powerful chest. Suspicion flattened the customary quirk that rode the corner of his mouth. "What the hell is she even doing here?" he demanded.
Sam shrugged. Good question . "Her father got her a job with an environmental company. She's probably testing the impact of the oil wells on the environment."
"Like she was testing the water in Mexico when the drug lords got the upper hand," Bronco recalled.
"Exactly."
"Why would her father want her working in the vicinity of terrorists?" Bullfrog asked.
Sam sighed. "I don't know. It doesn't make much sense," he admitted, recalling how
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