Page 14 of Dagger

The gun nest was just ahead. When they stormed in, the gunner barely had time to pivot.

Beast went first, launching like a missile. His bulk slammed into one of the insurgents, knocking the man clear off his feet before clamping his jaws around his arm and shaking him like a rag doll. The man screamed in pain as Brawler took him out.

The second insurgent swung his rifle. Brawler fired first, three rounds hammering center mass. The gunner tried to bring the big gun around, but Flash dropped him with a clean shot to the head.

Silence.

Brawler activated his comm. “Nest is neutralized.”

Tex came back, “Copy that. Rendezvous with us, then we go get the hostages.”

Brawler exhaled, exchanging a look with Flash. The smart-ass grinned. “Not bad for a big guy and a dog.”

Brawler clapped Beast’s side. The dog’s tongue lolled, eyes sharp, muscles still wound tight.

It wasn’t over yet.

Dagger wassure Joseph Baxter and Lechuza were above them somewhere. It was time for mission success. Brawler took out a ball cap that was a favorite of Baxter’s, crouched down and slipped it under Beast’s nose as he, Tex, Easy, Shark, and Bondo came down the hall in a quick, controlled, predatory walk, telegraphing their lethal intent and razor-sharp focus. Beast was trembling beside Brawler, his head up, his eyes telling them that he’d gotten the scent.

The team moved as one, a silent, methodical force carving through the darkened corridors of the hospital. The air was thick with smoke, gunpowder, and the sharp tang of antiseptic, mixing with the rot of decay.

Beast led the way, the dog’s powerful frame coiled with restrained energy. Brawler followed in the wake of the dog’s quick pace, weapon shouldered. The guys behind them, Bondo still covering their six, the operator’s expression grim.

According to the blueprints they’d studied with meticulous intent, the ICU wing was above them, locked behind reinforced doors. Dagger took a quick peek. “The insurgents set up a barricade near the ICU doors,” he said.

Flash exhaled, tapping Brawler’s shoulder. “You know, big guy, sometimes I wish we had a damn elevator.”

Brawler smirked, gripping the railing as he hauled himself up the stairwell. “Well, let’s go. I need that fucking net.”

Dagger didn’t know what they were talking about, but Flash grinned, flipping Brawler a quick bird.

The top of the stairwell exploded in gunfire, rounds punching through plaster and old medical signage. Between blasts theycleared as fast as they could. Easy pulled out bolt cutters to clear the chains, then they breached fast.

The moment the doors blew, Brawler rolled a flashbang down the hall. It detonated with a sharp crack, throwing out a searing white blast.

Then they moved in hard.

Beast hit first, lunging through the smoke, his teeth clamping down on the nearest guard’s thigh, dragging him down with a wet scream.

Brawler followed, firing tight bursts into the chest of another, shredding him before he could recover.

Flash pivoted, dropping a third combatant with a single round to the head.

Tex snapped, crisp and cool as ice. “Get to the hostages.” Resistance was nonexistent as they purposely glided down the corridor. Beast made a beeline to the first door with a lock. Easy already had his sledge out, and one heavily muscled shoulder swing later, the shattered lock dropped into pieces.

Dagger kicked in the door, rifle sweeping the dimly lit room. Joseph Baxter sat slumped against the wall, bruised, dehydrated, and down but not broken. The kid had the lean, wiry frame of someone built for speed, but right now, he looked like he’d been through a hurricane and barely crawled out.

His dark brown eyes, bright with mischief and cocky bravado, were shadowed with exhaustion, but there was still a glimmer of fire in them. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip split, but the real story was in his battered knuckles, busted up, bloodied.

The kid had fought like hell.

Dagger took in the curly mop of dark hair, now matted with sweat and dirt, the way his chest rose and fell heavily, every breath a reminder that he was still standing, still here.

The moment the SEALs stepped in, he pushed himself upright, shielding his eyes from the sudden light.

Then his gaze locked onto them.

Baxter might not have recognized their faces, but he knew that stance, those steely eyes, that gear, and that meant only one thing, a SEAL lover if Dagger had ever seen one.

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