LITMIR.BIZ

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defending the most. To wear the green beret was his one true desire, the ultimate symbol of male strength and prowess. Sergeant Hanson may be the best sniper for this job but, in his world, it was men who provided the safe havens. And the one person he wanted to place at the center of his safe haven at that moment was Cara Hanson herself. She had awakened feelings that he would need to guard against.

      A knock on the open door broke through his thoughts. He closed the file and pushed it to one side, along with his feelings.

      Cara Hanson stood in the doorway, her bright blue eyes staring straight ahead as she saluted.

      “Sergeant Hanson, reporting for duty, sir.”

      He flicked his eyes over her body, which appeared even smaller in stature than the previous day. She looked very different without the ghillie suit and was wearing standard-issue fatigues. He was now able to see her face in its fullness, sun kissed and healthy. Her shiny blond hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and Cupid’s-bow mouth. As a deep, primal emotion stirred within him, he wondered if he had made a grave mistake in allowing her to enter his perfectly ordered domain.

      “At ease, Sergeant. Come in, take a seat.”

      Two more soldiers entered the room, and Dean rose purposefully.

      “Sergeant Hanson, I would like you to meet Sergeants Gomez and Hicks. We’ll be operating as a four-man team for this mission.” He looked toward the two male sergeants, who were exchanging looks of surprise while shaking Cara’s hand.

      “Sergeant Hanson has been granted special dispensation to serve, on a one-off basis, as a combat sniper for this mission,” he explained.

      Female operatives were a rare species in Special Forces and he knew she would be regarded with curiosity. Even he was curious about her but he knew that, within forty-eight hours, she would be back in her regiment and out of his life. Keep it professional. Don’t get too involved. That was his mantra.

      The soldiers took their seats, and Dean handed them a photograph of a man wearing the same distinctive green beret as each of the men in the room.

      “This,” he said, “is your target.”

      He heard a collective gasp from the room.

      He raised his eyes to his team. “This is Major Christopher Moore from Tenth Special Forces Group. Twelve months ago, he infiltrated a terrorist cell in Ohio with the intention of supplying information back to the U.S. Government regarding intended targets. Six months ago he went rogue and disappeared from our radar. Intelligence has confirmed that he’s turned against us and is now assisting the cell, helping them purchase illegal weapons and bomb-making equipment. In short, he’s gone to the Dark Side.”

      Sergeant Hicks raised his hand. “How do we know this for certain, sir?”

      “The terrorist cell in Ohio was raided three months ago by the military. Secret documents recovered there confirmed our worst fears. They state that Major Moore revealed himself as a spy and pledged his allegiance to the group.” Dean walked to the desk at the front of the small, windowless room and placed the photograph on it. His shoulders dropped. “Major Moore used to be my commanding officer. We trained together. I would never have believed he could turn his back on the Green Berets, but there is no place for sentiment in this mission. He is a very dangerous and wily enemy. We’ve been trying to track him ever since the raid in Ohio, and we finally have our shot at taking him out.”

      Cara raised her hand.

      “Yes, sergeant,” he responded.

      “Is termination the only option here?” she asked. “Could we not take him into custody?”

      Dean sighed heavily. “Sergeant, if that was an option I would take it. Major Moore is a highly trained Special Forces soldier and won’t come in without a fight. We know he’ll be taking part in a weapons-smuggling operation tomorrow in the Four Corners region. These weapons are seriously powerful, capable of killing hundreds in one deadly swoop. We can’t risk his escape. I’m afraid we have no choice.”

      He felt his chest tighten, and his heart heaved. He straightened his back. “It’s always difficult when faced with a soldier who’s turned his back on his country, but this man is no longer on our side. He is no longer a patriot. He is a terrorist, so let’s put personal feelings to one side.”

      Easier said than done, he thought. Major Chris Moore had been his loyal friend as well as his commanding officer. He’d thought Chris was a man of honor, a man of integrity, a man of faith. But he’d been wrong, wrong to believe that God’s plan would spare him the pain of facing his best friend as an enemy in combat. After months of prayer, he’d eventually reasoned that God had turned His back on him, and he would need to trust in his own judgment rather than wait for a Heavenly answer that would never come. He turned to his soldiers and drew a deep breath.

      “We reconvene at 0600 tomorrow morning for Q&A. Read your brief, get some rest and prepare your minds.”

      His eyes scanned the three soldiers and came to rest on Cara. He watched her for a few seconds as she studied the photograph intently, her face betraying a sadness that she’d successfully locked tightly away from view. Her face was open, readable and it momentarily mesmerized him. She looked up and caught his eyes upon her, and he felt her gaze penetrating his shell to the tortured core within. He quickly looked away and walked purposefully from the room, creating a draft that caught the loose strands of hair falling around her cheeks.

      Glancing back from the doorway, he wondered what thoughts were going through her head. They were revealed to him when he saw her finger trace the smile of the young soldier in the photograph, before she hung her head to her chest. In that moment he felt a kinship with her that he’d never experienced before.

      * * *

      Cara steadied her hands as she pulled camouflage netting over the small army jeep. She was nervous, more nervous than she had ever been. She reached into the neckline of her suit and took out the silver cross which she wore around her neck. She held it in her fingers for just a second before tucking it securely back inside.

      “Sergeant, it was clear on the briefing that no form of jewelry is permitted on this mission. Dog tags only.”

      She looked over to Captain McGovern, who was staring at her sternly. The whites of his eyes shone against the black smears on his face. Yet beneath the tension on that face, his handsome features still clearly stood out. She tried not to notice but it was hard. She may be an elite sniper but she was still a woman.

      “This necklace travels everywhere with me, sir. It never comes off.”

      She saw a fleeting softness in his eyes. “Very well, Sergeant, I’ll turn a blind eye this time.”

      He turned to face his unit and all three soldiers lined up, standing at ease before him. He looked at each of them. “Radio contact is limited to target identification and emergency protocol. We use call signs only. Gomez and Hicks, proceed as agreed. Hanson, you’re with me. Let’s roll.”

      The chirping sound of woodland birds echoed in Cara’s ears as she followed in the captain’s footsteps. He led her through thickets and streams, continuously looking behind to check her position. She started to relax. She loved the outdoors and moved through it like a quiet wind through the trees. It was where she was raised. Since she was ten years old, she’d been able to hit a tin can from five hundred yards with her dad’s hunting rifle. Her father had taken her on regular hunting trips and she had never disappointed him. He proudly proclaimed to the world that his teenage daughter possessed an aim that far surpassed his own. Her mom playfully complained about being a “hunting widow,” but she loved the fact that Cara and her dad were so close. It was a bond that could never be broken—except by death.

      No, she pleaded in her head, not now. She pushed the picture from her mind—the image of her father lying cold and still at the edge of the lake, blood seeping into the water from his outstretched hand. That fate would not befall anyone else in her life. She’d made sure of it. She’d become the best of the best.

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