Page 9 of Duty Unbound

Logan slammed the brakes and pulled hard to the right. The pursuing vehicle, not expecting the maneuver, shot past us. Ty and I fired simultaneously, taking out both the driver and the front passenger. The SUV careened off the road, flipping once before coming to rest upside down. A fireball erupted from the wreckage, sending black smoke curling into the sky.

Logan kept driving.

He secured his grip on the wheel, checking the mirrors. “Doesn’t look like we have anyone else in pursuit.”

Jace exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Confirmed. No other moving vehicles in the area.”

I reached back and yanked the hood off our prisoner. Herrera was wide-eyed but uninjured. The look on his face suggested he’d expected his rescue to succeed.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I put the hood back over his head.

“So,” Ty said as he reloaded his weapon, his earlier wound forgotten in the adrenaline rush, “about that Nova Rivers job…”

I had to chuckle.

He shrugged. “You know we’ll do whatever you want, boss, but I’d like to point out that pop stars generally have fewer friends with grenade launchers.”

Logan shrugged, eyes still on the road. He lowered his voice so only I could hear him as Jace and Ty kept an eye out in the back while talking. “The kid’s an idiot, but not wrong. We’ve been hitting the road hard for the past year—taking on the most difficult and dangerous cases. I know you have your reasons forthat, but you can eliminate every threat that comes your way and still be haunted by the ghosts you’re running from.”

Logan was right. The Morocco job would be challenging—political tensions, multiple security concerns, high-risk. The Nova Rivers stalker case would be more straightforward, but potentially tedious.

Easy money. Fewer grenades.

A few minutes later, the extraction point appeared ahead—a small airfield where a nondescript private plane waited. Two men in civilian clothing stood by the runway, our contacts for the handoff.

“Let’s wrap this up,” I said.

We pulled up to the plane, and my team didn’t wait as two agents approached. Logan yanked the rear doors open, and Ty hopped out first, stretching his legs before grabbing Herrera by the arm. The cartel boss grunted but couldn’t do much else. Jace followed, laptop tucked under one arm, already wiping Citadel Solutions’ digital footprints clean.

I stepped out last, rolling my neck. Herrera’s handlers—DOJ contractors, maybe military intelligence—stepped forward to claim their prize.

The taller of the two agents approached me. “Any complications, Cross?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” I replied.

We completed the handoff with minimal paperwork—another advantage of unofficial operations. Within twenty minutes, we were stepping into the cargo hold of our own chartered plane where webbed seats lined the walls. Soon, we were in the air heading back to the States.

Despite the uncomfortable seating, the tension that had gripped the team for days finally started to fade. The guys weren’t the type to celebrate after missions like this, but I caught the subtle shifts. Shoulders lowering. Jaws unclenching. EvenLogan, usually carved from stone, let out a breath that sounded almost like relief.

He took the seat beside me. “Decided on our next gig? Honestly, either is fine. If you’re still feeling the need for hard action, let’s go with Morocco. I hear the deserts of Africa are lovely this time of year.”

I chuckled under my breath. “No, we’ll go with the pop star. I have it on good authority there will be fewer grenades.”

Logan smiled. “It’s what every important decision should be based on.”

I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the engines wash over me. Another job completed. Another one waiting. The routine was predictable, comfortable in its familiarity. No emotional entanglements, no complications beyond the tactical challenges of each mission.

That’s how I preferred it, in business and in life. Clean. Uncomplicated. Professional.

Chapter 4

Ethan

I scanned the perimeter of Nova Rivers’s estate as Ty and I walked up the winding driveway. The mansion sprawled across several manicured acres, Spanish-inspired architecture gleaming white in the Dallas morning sun.

Impressive to look at. Concerning to protect.

“Remember, we’re an hour early for a reason,” I told Ty without breaking stride. “I want to gather some information before meeting with the client.”

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