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Seriq’s possession.
    A deal that resulted in both men's deaths. A good thing as far as any of the members of TF-S were concerned.
    "And Shane?" Ranger rasped out. Shane Carter, a former sniper with TF-S and Ranger's best friend, had been taken captive in the disastrous ambush in which Mr. J had faked his death, only to reappear the next year, a turned terrorist.
    The door slid open and a new man stepped into the large open room. Mr. K. His dull brown hair was as unmemorable as his smallish average frame and face. Even his suit was non-descript. The guys nodded at him as he joined them at the table.
    Grey shook his head and finally got around to answering Ranger’s question. "No. When Shane came back, he spoke Arabic. I think Al Seriq turned him. Besides, our old CIA liaison, Mr. J, was no fanatic."
    "My team has been digging into Mr. J's old records,” Mr. K added, “and we discovered some offshore accounts he'd hidden. It seems my counterpart's main motivation was good old money."
    Hoyt could barely hold back a sneer. Considering how their last experience working with the CIA had ended, he considered any member of their ranks about as trustworthy as a cobra coiled to strike. "And your motivation isn't?"
    Mr. K stiffened and flushed red, his bony shoulders lifting beneath his suit. "No, Mr. Crowe, believe it or not, I take Mr. J's betrayal as deeply as all of you do. He was my mentor when I joined up. He trained me. I want to take him down. That's the reason I asked to take over as liaison for your team."
    "If you're so eager, why aren't we packing up to go get him?" Hoyt bit out. The ISA ambush orchestrated by Al Seriq had nearly killed all of them. Every man on the team was thirsty for vengeance.
    "I think you should wait for your commander to tell you."
    Hoyt spun around to look at Colonel Grey. His normally expressionless mask had finally fallen. Hoyt tried to pinpoint the emotion he saw there. Agitation? Anxious? No. That was too mild. His commander looked afraid.
    Shit. This was not good. Not good at all. Mack Grey was the most intimidating soldier in the entire Special Forces. He didn't flinch at anything. Not death, not bombs and IEDs, not even at Hoyt and his gruesome face.
    But he was as pale as a damn ghost right now.
    "Zafar has put a hit out on TF-S. He knows we're the ones who stopped the weapons shipment from moving through Mercy. His newest hire knows every detail about your lives. Where you live. Where your families live."
    No big, just every single soldier's worst nightmare.
    "Mr. K's team picked up some suspicious messages through ISA's social networks the same day Zafar hired Mr. J. His analysts were able to decode a few of the messages before Zafar shut the channels down." Grey paced right, then left. Stirring up alarm with every step. When he stopped and turned to face his team, Hoyt knew it was time for the really bad news.
    Jared expelled a long breath and grabbed the table, his face hardening as every man fell silent. There was no need to speak. They had all felt this emotion before, and Hoyt had become intimately acquainted with it on several occasions.
    Fear.
    TF-S accepted the suicide missions no other branch of the military was willing to take, but they did it to protect their country and their families from the bad guys. They knew that if people like Al Seriq were allowed free reign in the Middle East, it would only be a matter of time before he found his way to the United States.
    But they did it under the cloak of obscurity. Their uniforms remained stripped down. They wore no dog tags. No patches of rank or branch. No nothing. It was an anonymity they’d come to rely on.
    "He's sending someone here isn't he?" Hoyt asked.
    Grey shook his head. "No, they're already here."

5
    H oyt turned the Jeep onto the main road running down the middle of Mercy proper. This section held all the typical staples of small-town life—Smith’s Hardware Store, check. Stellar Star Salon, check. New boutique