Sundown by Susan May Warren

Author:Susan May Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance;Novel;FIC042040;FIC027020;FIC027260
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2022-09-07T00:00:00+00:00

Ranger had forgotten how much he loved to dive.

Or maybe not forgotten, just lodged it back in his brain so that the memory of former glory days wouldn’t surface to cut off his breathing.

But yes, right now, he was in his quiet, perfect happy place. Twenty or so feet above him, the world had turned black, the sky moonless, the stars out, and they had dappled the platinum water of the Indian River with pinpricks of light as Colt and Dodge had driven their boat down the river toward Stingray Point, where the Petrovs had quietly set up their compound, some fifteen klicks away from the Marshall mansion.

A house he could sort of get used to. His bedroom—the one he shared with Noemi—looked out over a pool, and beyond that, the river. They’d spent much of yesterday doing recon, then taking a ride down the shore for a look-see at the compound. He’d spotted manatees in the shallows, and earlier tonight, as they’d been finalizing their sneak and peek, a pod of dolphins swam by.

Friends in the water.

Normally he’d have his team with him, working with hand signals as they approached their target, the mission goals, step-by-step, entrenched in their minds.

Now, it was just him, a lobster run—solo dive—twenty feet down, sneaking through the brackish waters to the Petrov compound, his night vision mask attachment turning the water an eerie green as he scraped along the bottom.

At least he wouldn’t alert any of Petrov’s people who might be patrolling the compound to his presence with a dive light. He had to admit Jones, Inc. had some stellar gear.

In fact, he liked all the Jones, Inc. guys. Ham in particular. He knew the former SEAL from Team 5 by reputation, his snafu in Afghanistan being something the fellow frogmen talked about in quiet tones. The betrayals, the casualties, the fallout.

But Ham had landed on his feet and brought some friends with him. Ranger knew Fraser Marshall, too, had connected with him on some training ops in early days. Apparently Fraser had a cousin with some money who let them use the house, not to mention his high-speed cigarette boat.

Ranger liked a ride with muscle.

Although gliding along in silence, just the hiss of his own breath into the rebreather gave him a moment to think, to prepare, to focus.

Yes, he missed this.

“I’m in position.” Dodge’s voice came through his earpiece, and although Ranger couldn’t respond, he appreciated knowing just what might be going on above surface.

Ranger ran the map, and the mission, through his mind as he kicked quietly into the canal that edged the southern point.

The Russian compound sat on twenty acres of secluded property—at least secluded from the road, where tall coconut palms intermingled with the crooked live sand oaks, and shorter-needle palms amid a tangle of undergrowth. Good cover for clandestine insertion, but not so great for the quick sneak and possible grab of tonight’s mission.

Better insertion point was the grounds to the west that led to the water.

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