Blood Diamonds by P. W. Storm

Author:P. W. Storm [P.W. Storm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061747717
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Tongaso, Angola

Near Congo Border

0550 Hours Local Time

Were it not for all the clouds and rain, Rookie might’ve seen the sky wash over from a deep purple into a dark blue, then grow bluer, so blue that he would imagine himself standing inside one of his grandfather’s paintings and looking up across that brush-stroked sky.

And were it not for Mad Dog and Pope, Rookie might’ve been involved in some direct action, instead of crouching in position like an idiot who’d sneaked into a rock concert and was stealing a peek at the show while heavy-set women in security guard uniforms hunted him down.

He’d actually done that once, and it had taken those surly dykes over an hour to finally catch him.

But this was different. This was like sliding on a condom and being forced to watch.

He thought of opening fire, adding his weapons to Wolfgang’s and Drac’s, just to piss off Pope, knock him off his altar, remind him that he was just a grunt, just like anyone else. But Rookie reminded himself that he was here to earn a paycheck. Set the ego thing aside.

But that was damned hard when he was looking for some redemption, some way to show these guys that he was a consistent, first-class operator, that his error back in the village was an aberration. That, above all, they could count on him. Respect him. He knew the way of the warrior. It was in his blood. And he had proven that to his colleagues in the past. They didn’t recruit Delta Force operators from your local bus stop…

Fortunately, Daniel “Bender” Benson, the Delta Force operator whom Bibby had identified, wasn’t one of Rookie’s closer friends. Sure, everybody knew everybody in Delta, but Rookie had been on his way out while Bender was on his way up. They’d trained together a few times before Rookie had left. He told Mad Dog that Bender had a solid reputation and excellent tactical skills—mercenaries beware. It was a small world, all right, which sucked if your name was Takahiro Masaki.

And you want to talk conflict of interests? Holy shit. Could Rookie be expected to fire upon American forces? Expected to fire upon Deltas—his former brothers?

Hell, they still were his brothers! Forever!

He wondered what he’d do if it came down to that. Mad Dog wouldn’t give the order. No fucking way.

But if they were shooting at you with intent to kill, what were you supposed to do? Bend over? Run? Remove your skivvies and wave ’em atop your rifle?

Damn, encountering Americans in the field had been the last thing on Rookie’s mind when he’d decided to join Mad Dog’s team. He could deal with the insurgents and locals in every third world shit hole, but he wasn’t sure he could engage the Deltas, even in self-defense. He was certain that if any of the others went head-to-head with Bender and his boys, they would lose, even Wolfgang, who it appeared could gun and run with the best of them. You don’t fuck with Delta Force.

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