Page 73 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

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The transport landed safely in Kosovo and they were called directly into a meeting. It was a good thing he’d managed to get some sleep on the plane.

The joint forces commander stood in the front of the small room filled with men. Judging by the array of uniforms and accents there were Brits, who were probably SAS, as well as some French Foreign Legion.

The map on the wall told Stefan a lot even before the man in charge began talking.

“Serbia,” he began. “A known friend of Moscow, has just received a care package from China. A cache of anti-aircraft missiles, plus some other deadly goodies.”

There were a few low mumbles from the operators in the room after that revelation.

“There are no plans to send in ground troops. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to sit by and do nothing. Small, covert groups of five to six operators will be performing intelligence-gathering incursions nightly, concentrating mainly here and here.”

The commander tapped the map to indicate the borders between Serbia and the NATO-friendly nations most in danger of invasion—Kosovo and Bosnia.

“We have twenty-one sites of interest. Your recon missions across the border are technically not officially sanctioned by NATO, yet, but there’s no time to wait for permission. Reports say Russian mercenaries are already moving into those border regions.”

It was clear to anyone watching, the Serbs were slowly, quietly, gearing up for an invasion.

It was straight out of the Kremlin’s playbook. Exactly what Putin had done in Georgia and in Ukraine.

And while the world was distracted by the bloody conflict in Ukraine, now would be the perfect time for the Kremlin-backed ally to make a move on its neighbors. Any student of history knew Serbia had been itching to get Kosovo back ever since it broke away decades ago.

Stefan drew in a breath. It was dangerous. Being on an unsanctioned mission meant they’d be on their own, with limited resources. And he was grateful he was there with his team. All thanks to Shelly and her selfless act.

Was she in trouble for what she’d done? God, he hoped she hadn’t been fired.

He couldn’t help but wonder how far they could have gone if this hadn’t happened. If Russia and Serbia had kept their hands off their neighbors’ land and he could have seen things through to completion. Not just in the show but with Shelly.

Him thinking of her and the show while on a mission was dangerous. He needed to get his head in the game. And he would. But when he was home… All bets were off then. She’d be his first stop.

“Memorize the map and the coordinates. We start tomorrow night.”

The team funneled out of the meeting room and once they were away from the larger group, Wyatt frowned. “There will be almost a full moon tomorrow night.”

“Yup. That’s gonna make it interesting to remain covert as we sneak across the border,” Stefan added, shaking his head.

“I guess it can’t wait. Things are escalating too fast.” Mason shrugged.

“Thanks to Moscow and Beijing the fun never stops around here.” Eric snorted.

“So we get in, get out, and then we can go home. I’ll be buying drinks for some little hottie at McP’s before I know it,” Ty said with boundless enthusiasm.

“Yeah. After we get in and outtwenty-onetimes,” Wyatt reminded them of the number of ops the commander had mentioned.

“Well, Rodeo, think of it this way. By op fifteen or so there should be no moon,” Ty said.

Stefan shook his head. “No easy day.”

The truth was, he didn’t need today, or tomorrow either to be easy, but he did need to live long enough to go home. He had a lot to go home to.

In the typical game of sit-around-and-wait they played so often in the military, the discussion of what they wanted to do first when they got back home inevitably came up as they sat and watched the clock for go time.

“I’m going directly to McP’s for a drink,” Ty confirmed. No surprise there.

“I’m getting a nice hot shower. The showers here suck,” Danny complained.

“Hey, Pierogi. What do you want to do when we get out of here? Eat your momma’s food?” Wyatt asked.

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