Read Online Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 by Ronie Kendig - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ronie Kendig
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emotions he couldn’t seem to sort through. “We need proof. Work it hard. Keep reports to Command vague. Enough to keep them off our butts about reporting in, but not enough for whoever is behind this to head us off.”
“Or kill another friendly.” Riordan tossed his chin, indicating behind Sal. “What about your team?”
“What about them?”
“How far do you trust them?”
Sal didn’t like the question and threw it back at the SEAL. “More than I trust you.”
Riordan smirked. “Okay, let’s keep tabs. I’ll give you what I know and keep you informed. I’d like you to do the same.”
Sal nodded—and as he did, a glint somewhere caught his attention. He snapped his gaze to the right. To a shadowy spot beyond the USO building.
Riordan shifted. “What?”
He couldn’t say why or what propelled him, but Sal took off running. He wasn’t going to lose anyone to another sniper. Wasn’t going to let anyone take out another of his team because he wasn’t responsive enough.
Even as he bolted, he heard shouts and the teams rallying behind him—at the same time, he saw a shadow drop from the roof of the chow hall. A light beam struck the man.
Sal thanked God He’d made him fast. He sprinted. “It’s the spook!”
EAMON
Takkar Towers, Kabul, Afghanistan
I can’t believe you told him I’m your wife!”
Eamon locked the door, retrieved the weapon from his pack that he’d slung over his shoulder. He walked the condo, anticipating trouble, but not wanting to stress Brie any more than she already was. “It’s Afghanistan. A man and a woman staying in the same condo would not only draw attention, but ire and possible outrage. Being American and here is trouble enough.”
Fifteen hundred square feet with clean lines and Spartan furniture. No trouble crossing a room and avoiding obstacles. Easy to defend with only a short hall to negotiate. Bedrooms sat off the main living area and full-sized kitchen. A bathroom sat between the two smaller bedrooms and the master opposite. Yet it felt cramped. Maybe because every time he turned around, she was there. Right there.
He tossed his pack on the small bed of the first bedroom. “You can take the master.” She’d have her own bathroom and privacy that way.
“Don’t you think if someone comes in they’ll figure out we don’t sleep in the same bed?”
“No. I’ll store my duds in the dresser in the master room. Bed will be made with hospital corners and no creases.”
She crossed her arms. “You can do that?”
“Every day.”
Amusement rippled through her tawny features, but she said nothing as she slipped into the bathroom. After suitcases were delivered, they settled in. First order of business—Eamon set up miniature cameras and microphones throughout the flat, tested each one, then set them to record through his laptop. As dusk fell in on the space and he flicked on the kitchen light, Brie worked alongside with her system, setting them to receive the same data and keeping in contact with her superiors.
They had a good system that flowed naturally. Eamon made contact with his command sergeant major, updating on his progress and purpose, now that they’d relocated the mission to the tower itself. For now, he left out that he was alone with the beautiful lieutenant.
“I hope you don’t expect me to cook.” Brie stood on the vinyl floor, arms crossed. She had these brightly colored pajama bottoms and a tank top on, her brown hair down. Comfortable and less military.
“Why? Are you a disaster in the kitchen?”
“My forte is soup.”
Eamon shrugged and nodded.
“From a can.”
He chuckled. “Good if we’re going to survive the zombie apocalypse.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I am.” He laughed. “But no worries. I’m actually a decent cook.”
“You?” Brie came to the table and folded herself back into the chair, propping her leg on the edge of the vinyl cushion. “Seriously?”
Eamon worked to set up the
“Or kill another friendly.” Riordan tossed his chin, indicating behind Sal. “What about your team?”
“What about them?”
“How far do you trust them?”
Sal didn’t like the question and threw it back at the SEAL. “More than I trust you.”
Riordan smirked. “Okay, let’s keep tabs. I’ll give you what I know and keep you informed. I’d like you to do the same.”
Sal nodded—and as he did, a glint somewhere caught his attention. He snapped his gaze to the right. To a shadowy spot beyond the USO building.
Riordan shifted. “What?”
He couldn’t say why or what propelled him, but Sal took off running. He wasn’t going to lose anyone to another sniper. Wasn’t going to let anyone take out another of his team because he wasn’t responsive enough.
Even as he bolted, he heard shouts and the teams rallying behind him—at the same time, he saw a shadow drop from the roof of the chow hall. A light beam struck the man.
Sal thanked God He’d made him fast. He sprinted. “It’s the spook!”
EAMON
Takkar Towers, Kabul, Afghanistan
I can’t believe you told him I’m your wife!”
Eamon locked the door, retrieved the weapon from his pack that he’d slung over his shoulder. He walked the condo, anticipating trouble, but not wanting to stress Brie any more than she already was. “It’s Afghanistan. A man and a woman staying in the same condo would not only draw attention, but ire and possible outrage. Being American and here is trouble enough.”
Fifteen hundred square feet with clean lines and Spartan furniture. No trouble crossing a room and avoiding obstacles. Easy to defend with only a short hall to negotiate. Bedrooms sat off the main living area and full-sized kitchen. A bathroom sat between the two smaller bedrooms and the master opposite. Yet it felt cramped. Maybe because every time he turned around, she was there. Right there.
He tossed his pack on the small bed of the first bedroom. “You can take the master.” She’d have her own bathroom and privacy that way.
“Don’t you think if someone comes in they’ll figure out we don’t sleep in the same bed?”
“No. I’ll store my duds in the dresser in the master room. Bed will be made with hospital corners and no creases.”
She crossed her arms. “You can do that?”
“Every day.”
Amusement rippled through her tawny features, but she said nothing as she slipped into the bathroom. After suitcases were delivered, they settled in. First order of business—Eamon set up miniature cameras and microphones throughout the flat, tested each one, then set them to record through his laptop. As dusk fell in on the space and he flicked on the kitchen light, Brie worked alongside with her system, setting them to receive the same data and keeping in contact with her superiors.
They had a good system that flowed naturally. Eamon made contact with his command sergeant major, updating on his progress and purpose, now that they’d relocated the mission to the tower itself. For now, he left out that he was alone with the beautiful lieutenant.
“I hope you don’t expect me to cook.” Brie stood on the vinyl floor, arms crossed. She had these brightly colored pajama bottoms and a tank top on, her brown hair down. Comfortable and less military.
“Why? Are you a disaster in the kitchen?”
“My forte is soup.”
Eamon shrugged and nodded.
“From a can.”
He chuckled. “Good if we’re going to survive the zombie apocalypse.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I am.” He laughed. “But no worries. I’m actually a decent cook.”
“You?” Brie came to the table and folded herself back into the chair, propping her leg on the edge of the vinyl cushion. “Seriously?”
Eamon worked to set up the
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