Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 by Ronie Kendig Read Free Book Online Page A

people to believe in him, trust him, then have their lives thrown under the bus of his idiocy.
    Boots stomped closer… closer…
    Sal swallowed harder. If Dean found out… if anyone found out, he’d end up with a psych eval. He could get put out.
    He shook his head. Cassie would destroy yet another life. “Access to the prisoner came through. Need you over there now.”
    “On my way.” Sal held his arm under the water. Rinsed his blade. Grabbed the keffiyeh, tore off a section, and tied it around his bicep. After drying off and dressing, he made his way to his bunk, verified he was alone as he stowed his gear, then removed the scarf and applied a line of wound sealer. Sal tensed through the stinging. He holstered his weapon and hurried to the detention facility.
    “Captain Watters?” Sal asked the guard as he logged in.
    “He—”
    “Falcon.”
    Sal shot a look over his shoulder and spotted Dean at the end of the hall. He dropped the pen on the clipboard and trotted down the narrow corridor. “You talk to him yet?”
    “Titanis is having a go,” Dean said as they entered the fifteen-by-twenty room and folded his arms over his chest.
    “Titanis?” Sal frowned. What was the Aussie doing here? Sal was second-in-command. Why had Titanis been chosen over him?
    “I called him over after I found you. Thought he might have some persuasive methods—since he’s not officially on the team, he might get away with things we might not.”
    Right. Not entirely true. But it’d be a distraction they could play with if questions arose.
    Titanis hulked over the small-framed Afghan national. “Sorry, mate. We just don’t believe you.”
    “It is true,” the man snapped.
    Shifting to the side, Titanis afforded Sal a view of the man. And anger spiraled up from the places he’d tucked it not ten minutes ago. It didn’t look like anyone had touched the guy. Defiance oozed from the man’s posture and words. Why wasn’t blood dribbling from his lips and nose yet?
    The thought gave Sal a start.
Bloodthirsty…
    “You had an assault rifle,” Titanis went on. “You ran from my team. You shot at us.”
    The Afghan’s lip curled. “You cannot prove it.”
    Titanis looked at Dean, who gave an almost-imperceptible lift of his chin.
    Good. They’d step it up a little.
    “Captain?”
    Sal shifted as a man entered the cell and met Dean with a discerning gaze. He wasn’t in uniform. Hair long around the ears and neck. Brawny. Tactical pants and shirt. All the marks of a Special Forces operator—and yet Sal didn’t recognize him. SEAL? MARSOC?
    “Can I help you?” Dean asked.
    “If you’ll call off your dingo”—he nodded toward Titanis—“I have work to do.”
    Sal exchanged a look with Dean.
    Shoulders squared, Dean didn’t move or answer for a few seconds. “And you are?”
    “Running behind.” The man had a bag in hand. It didn’t look like anything official. More like something out of a thriller novel—leather satchel sagging heavily. Something inside it clinked and clanked.
    “We have authorized access to this prisoner—he shot at my men. I’m not walking out of here.”
    “Then you can answer to Ramsey for holding up information demanded by DIA and POTUS.”
    POTUS? Since when? The president wanted to look good, not look at what was happening in the war theater.
    Brawny gave a cheeky grin and swung his head toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me. I believe you have a phone call with Ramsey.”
    Phone call my hairy backside
. Sal shook his head. “You must think we’re stupid. We walk out of here and you beat the crap out of him or kill him. Then our names are on the logs and we take the heat for this.”
    “Forget the heat,” Dean said. “He’s our prisoner. I need time with him.”
    Brawny considered Dean. “Sorry, Captain. Playtime’s over.” He looked to the door then back to Dean then Sal. “Leave. Now.”
    “Who gave you your orders?” Sal demanded.
    “Ramsey.”
    Sal started for