“Fire in the hole,” Jack said, and they moved a safe distance. The C4 Jack had attached to the door exploded when he set the charges off, and the door flew back and over their heads. As the smoke cleared, they started moving inside. Time always slowed for Dex when he was in combat, and everything seemed to pop out at him in Technicolor. Through the eerie green glow, he saw the bodies slumped in the corner.
The three Marines.
Reindeer, the medic, was already moving and Jack said into the comm, “This bites, sir.”
Spaceman replied, “Ditto.”
Dex knew the moment he saw them, and that itch intensified. Jack swore low and vehemently.
“Dead…uh, LT…recently,” Reindeer said, his voice full of the anger and frustration they all felt. “All of them head shots.”
That’s when all hell broke loose.
“LT! Bug out! Bug out! They’re everywhere. Ambush!” Kennedy shouted through the comm.
But his warning was a split second too late. Gunfire ripped into the room as Dex and the other SEALs hit the deck. Heated pieces of lead bounced and whizzed everywhere. Spaceman cried out in agony and another SEAL, Green Bean, was already there, slinging him onto his back. Without a word, the three of them—Dex, Jack and Reindeer—each shouldered one of the dead Marines into a fireman’s carry. The remaining SEALs returned fire. No words were spoken, but they were all in agreement. Never leave a man behind.
DJ was shouting into the radio, calling in the current cluster and getting the helos there on the double for extraction. Kennedy’s voice exploded on the comm again. “RPGs! Freaking RPGs.”
Dex could hear the rapid fire of their rifles in the open comm. Damn, rocket-propelled grenades. Not good. “Haul ass!” he yelled.
They cleared the door as an explosion rocked the building, dust and debris flying around. More automatic gunfire as Dex turned with the Marine still across his shoulders, pointed his weapon and opened fire, cutting down the bodies in pursuit.
Dex raced for the open compound gate and could see the helos landing a klick from his position. Running straight out, he deposited the Marine into the waiting chopper along with the other two and the wounded Spaceman. But his men were MIA. “Kennedy! DJ! Slim! Minnesota!” Dex yelled into the comm, reacting from the adrenaline. But there was no answer.
Dex turned and ran back toward the compound and saw them pinned down. They were outgunned and outmanned, but he and his fellow SEALs never hesitated. Opening fire, Dex cut down the enemy to the left and Reindeer and Green Bean took care of the enemy to the right. Dex shouted, “Move it!”
Kennedy didn’t budge until DJ, Minnesota and Slim reached Dex, laying down covering fire. “Kennedy!” Dex bellowed, ten pounds of adrenaline drop-loading into his system.
Kennedy broke from cover and Dex and his men opened fire to cover his retreat. He reached Dex and they all turned for the big UH60. Dex heard the whistle of the RPG, felt pressure and saw a flash as it exploded, the concussion knocking him off his feet, an excruciating pain slamming into his rib cage and waist. All of them were blown backward.
Dazed, Dex hit the ground hard. Through the smoke and dust, he saw the others all lying still. His head ringing, nausea twisting in his gut, he lurched to his feet, crying out at the sharp cut of agony in his side, his hand automatically going there, feeling the blood-soaked fabric. He stumbled over to them, falling to his knees. A second Black Hawk landed, and Marines poured from the open door. Dex slipped his hands under Kennedy’s prone, unmoving form. His heart pumped hard, his body on autopilot. Ignoring the agony in his side, he lifted Kennedy—ah, dammit, Tyler—as men surrounded him. He lurched to his feet and started for the helo as the wet, warm blood of his friend and comrade coated his hands, soaked into his uniform.
He made it to the door. Hands reached for Kennedy as Dex’s knees buckled and he dropped. Someone caught him and hauled him into the chopper.
He grabbed at the medivac guy’s uniform. “Don’t you leave anyone behind,” Dex called.
“Relax, sir. We got you covered,” he yelled above the return gunfire from the advancing rescue team and the insurgents, growling engine and whirling blades.
He turned his head as someone pulled at his shredded body armor and clothing, exerting pressure to his side, making him cry out against the burning, rippling torment ripping through his body.
“Don’t you die on me,” he whispered. “Don’t you die, Tyler.” His jaw clenched as the agony of his wounds melded with his mental anguish. His vision started to narrow and dim as the slashing pain intensified until tears blinded him. He turned his head, kept his eyes on Kennedy’s face—Tyler’s face—as he felt the helo lift and watched as pooled blood ran in rivulets to the open door.
Watched until he was pulled down into a tormented darkness.
Chapter Two
Senate Office Building, Washington, DC
Senator Piper Jones scowled. “It may be true there is plenty of resistance to this bill, Senator Mullins, but my late husband was in favor of this legislation, and I will be supporting it regardless of your opposition.”
“Really, Senator Jones, you were appointed to your seat by the governor of California in an age-old practice of widow’s succession and are merely a seat warmer. Everyone knows you don’t have the stones to get anything passed, regardless of who your late husband was.”
Piper felt a flush of anger rise up her neck and creep up her cheeks as the other senator glared at her from across the short expanse of her desk.
“Just concede defeat and we’ll make this bill stronger and more viable…later.”
Later in a pig’s eye. Piper fingered the antique locket Brad had given her right before he died. Whenever she needed strength, it bolstered her. Senator Mullins and his minions would quash this legislation like a bug. “It’s a minor change in corporate law, Senator, and is more holistic. Brad believed in the battle against corporate abuse strongly. He was a former securities attorney, and the provision, the one I’m pushing in his stead, provides for a company to change its mission from making money to corporate citizenship, which by its very definition is all about social responsibility. What do you have against protecting the common good?”
“It flies in the face of capitalism and corporate freedom! Everything this country stands for.”
“Brad believed in being a responsible capitalist. His bill is the first step to reform that will save our country. He believed deeply in it and I believe it has a strong chance of passing.”
She leaned back, decidedly holding her temper in check just as Brad and her formidable political family had ingrained in her over the years. She knew how to pussyfoot with the best of them.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath to steady herself, she tilted her chin and tried again. “I’m continuing on with what Brad wanted. That was my mission when I took his place.” She leaned forward and showed Senator Mullins her backbone. I will finish out the rest of Brad’s term. I’ve been proud to serve the state of California and the US Senate as his steward to the best of my ability.” She stared right back at him, refusing to be cowed.
He didn’t like it, and for a split second something quite nasty filled his eyes, but was then gone. Her phone rang, but she ignored it. She wasn’t going to show any sign of weakness or back down from that stare.