Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (Brotherhood Protectors Book 11) Read online

  Montana SEAL Friendly Fire

  Brotherhood Protectors Book #11

  Elle James

  Twisted Page Inc

  Contents

  MONTANA SEAL FRIENDLY FIRE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Wyatt’s War

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Elle James

  MONTANA SEAL FRIENDLY FIRE

  Brotherhood Protectors BOOK #11

  New York Times & USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  ELLE JAMES

  Copyright © 2018 by Elle James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-62695-151-8

  Print ISBN: 978-1-62695-152-5

  Dedicated to my readers who make my dreams come true by keeping me in the business I love dearly…WRITING! I love you all so much. Thank you for buying my books!

  Elle James

  Author’s Note

  Enjoy other military books by Elle James

  Brotherhood Protectors Series

  Montana SEAL (#1)

  Bride Protector SEAL (#2)

  Montana D-Force (#3)

  Cowboy D-Force (#4)

  Montana Ranger (#5)

  Montana Dog Soldier (#6)

  Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)

  Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)

  Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)

  Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)

  Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)

  Montana SEAL’s Bride (#12) TBD

  Montana Rescue

  Hot SEAL, Salty Dog

  Visit ellejames.com for more titles and release dates

  For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com

  and join Elle James and Myla Jackson's Newsletter at Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  “Don’t get too far ahead, Con Man.” Chief Petty Officer Trevor Anderson studied the terrain, searching for any signs of trouble.

  “Why the hell are we out here, anyway?” Mason “Con Man” Connolly asked. “I thought we’d pretty much cleaned out the Taliban influence from this corner of Afghanistan. Hell, we didn’t see anything this afternoon when we performed our weekly walk-through.”

  “You know the guys in Intel. They think everyone is out to screw the US government. They’re on a witch hunt for dirty contractors.”

  “Is that why we’re out here in the dark? They think we’re going to catch some contractor making dirty deals?” Jay C said into Trevor’s headset. “Why didn’t they say so in the briefing?”

  “They didn’t want word to get out before we left the tactical operations center,” Trevor said. “The fewer people who know why we’re out here, the better chance we have of catching those involved.”

  “You think there are traitors among our folks?” Connolly asked.

  Trevor’s jaw tightened. “It happens more often than you might think.”

  Connolly snorted. “Bastards.”

  “I’ll kill them with my bare hands.” Tank said.

  “I could be back in my cot, catching some Zs instead of tromping around in the sand,” Rutherford muttered. “And you know how I hate to miss my beauty sleep.”

  “It’s bad enough we have to deal with the Taliban,” Cage said. “We shouldn’t have to deal with our own crooked citizens.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, man.” Trevor glanced at his watch. “We’re meeting with some of the local leaders to discuss the issue under the cover of night to maintain their anonymity. But that doesn’t mean we won’t encounter hostiles. Keep your eyes peeled. I’m coming up behind you, Con. Jay C hang back. Tank, Rutherford, Cage, follow me.”

  “I’ll be glad when we get back to conducting real assignments, preferably involving water.” Cage slipped up beside Trevor. “The sand in all my cracks is really beginning to chafe.” For a long moment, he stood still, scratching his arms, legs and groin through the fabric of his uniform.

  Trevor ignored the sand in all his crevices and focused on the task at hand. He’d had orders to hold off telling his men about the real mission until they were well underway. The CO suspected a leak in the command center, feeding data to the traitor. He wanted the team to get a head start on the mission before anyone else knew what was going on.

  Intel had set up a meeting between his team and some of the local leaders who were supposed to receive reconstruction payments from some of the US government representatives working in the area. The question was, what were they receiving compared to what the contractors were reporting? If there were discrepancies, someone had to be held accountable.

  Unfortunately, when an independent surveyor had gone out to question the people receiving the money, he hadn’t returned. They located his body, picked clean by buzzards, his bones left to bleach in the hot desert sun.

  “We’re here to ask questions, not to expend ammo. Keep that in mind. The local leadership will be distrustful as it is, with us carrying full battle rattle, armed to our teeth.”

  “So, we’re here to show our support and get the real poop on what’s happening,” Connolly said. “Check.” He paused. “I see some people coming out of the village. Moving closer.”

  Trevor tensed. “Don’t give yourself away. We’re closing the distance.” He nodded toward his teammates and jerked his head toward the direction they’d be moving. “Let’s go. And maintain radio silence until we’re close enough to—”

  “See the whites of their eyes?” Connolly chuckled. “What era did you grow up in? John Wayne’s been gone a long time.”

  Trevor grinned. During the long cold months of winter in Montana, his father had watched just about every old western ever made. Trevor could just about recite every line of every John Wayne movie script. “Shut up and keep an eye out for trouble.”

  “On it, boss,” Connolly said. “And don’t be so grumpy.”

  “Who said I was grumpy?” Trevor said with a little more bite than intended.

  “Ever since Con Man got the girl, you’ve been a grump,” Tank responded. “Admit it.”

  “She should have chosen me,” Trevor muttered. His heart still squeezed hard in his chest over his loss, even after nearly a year. Lana had been friends with both of them. They had been The Three Musketeers. Then one night, Trevor had kissed Lana, and everything changed. He’d wanted her so badly, he could barely eat or sleep for thinking about her. She’d started dating both men, admitting she’d had a hard time choosing between them.

  When it came down to it, Con Man had asked her to marry him before Trevor. Trevor had wanted his proposal to be perfect. He’d purchased the ring and made reservations for a fancy restaurant and planned everything.

  Except Connolly beat him to her. He’d picked her up from her work one day and driven down to the beach. From what Connolly had described, they’d walked hand in hand, and he’d gotten down on one knee, proposing to her as the sun melted into the ocean.

  Yeah, one freakin’ year, and Trevor still wa
nted to be with Lana.

  “Well, she chose me,” Connolly said. “But if anything should happen to me, you’ll be there to take care of her, right?”

  “Damn straight,” Trevor said. “Perhaps we should focus on our mission here and move in closer. Eventually, we’ll have to come out and greet our liaisons.”

  “Moving,” Connolly said.

  The men leap-frogged from bush to bush, clinging to the shadows to make certain no one with a sniper rifle could pick them off.

  The briefing in the tactical operations center had indicated the team would be heading west to check on a possible group of Taliban insurgents setting up camp near the hills.

  As soon as the helicopter from the 160th Night Stalkers took off, it veered in the opposite direction, heading east.

  The pilot had the GPS coordinates where they were to meet with tribal leaders from an Afghan village to interview them in secret. The Navy SEALs were to conduct the mission, making certain the local leaders were safe, and then get back with the information.

  “See anything?” Trevor asked.

  “Only what looks like three Afghan leaders walking out of the village toward me with two armed guards, one on either side of the group,” Connolly said. “Twenty yards away from me and closing.”

  “Stay hidden until I catch up to you. I’ll be the one to step out and greet them.” Trevor nodded toward Tank.

  Tank grunted. “I’ve got your back.”

  With his buddy’s reassurance, Trevor zigzagged through the darkness from shadow to shadow. He’d only gone ten yards when a loud explosion ripped through the air, and all hell broke loose.

  The village leaders hit the ground, their guards dropping along with them.

  “Get down!” Trevor shouted, though he didn’t have to. His men knew when to hit the dirt and when to come out fighting.

  For two, maybe three minutes, bullets flew.

  “Where are they coming from?” Trevor spoke into his mic.

  “All around,” Tank said. “No tracer rounds to locate origin.”

  “Can any of you move back?”

  “Working on it,” Jay C said. “I’m furthest back. I’ll swing wide and find out where the bullets originate.”

  “Sounds like several rifles and a machine gun,” Rutherford bit out.

  “And what the hell bomb was that?” Cage asked. “Everyone still with us?”

  “This is Anderson. Sound off with status,” Trevor commanded.

  While the bullets continued to fly over their heads, the men of his team chimed in.

  “Cage, here.”

  “Jay C, alive and kickin’.”

  “Tank, with you.”

  “Rutherford, free of lead so far.”

  A moment of silence reigned between the barrage of bullets.

  “Connolly?” Trevor prompted. “Report.”

  Nothing. Then the machine gun gave that deadly burping sound as it expelled multiple rounds in rapid succession. Rifle fire recommenced, and the insurgent fire continued.

  Up until that point, Trevor had been steady, calm and collected, focused on surviving and continuing his mission. But when his wingman and best buddy, Connolly, hadn’t checked in, his heartbeat ratcheted up, and his chest grew so tight he could barely draw a breath. “I’m going after Con Man.”

  “Hold on,” Tank said. “Let me catch up to you and provide cover.”

  Trevor couldn’t wait. If Connolly was injured, he might be bleeding out. The sooner he got to him, the better chance he had of keeping his friend alive.

  “Can’t wait.” Trevor pushed to his feet and ran in a crouching position. When bullets kicked up dust near his boots, he dove to his belly and continued toward Connolly in a low crawl, keeping his head as low as possible.

  “Damn, Anderson,” Tank said into his earbud. “You make it hard for a guy to cover your back.”

  “Got to…” he said, using his knees and elbows to propel his prone body across the rugged ground, “get to…Connolly.” The going was arduous, but nothing would stop Trevor. He thought he was getting closer to the last point he’d seen his friend, but it was hard to tell with only the stars shedding light on the ground and his vision limited to no more than a foot above the ground. He adjusted his night vision goggles and spied a glowing green image.

  At the next bush, he ran into a lump lying in the shadows.

  “Connolly,” he choked out, his words lodging on the constriction in his throat.

  His friend lay still.

  Trevor scooted across the dirt to lie in the dark beside his fellow SEAL, his hands and arms slipping through warm, sticky blood. “Connolly, stop fooling around and talk to me, man.” His eyes burned as he felt for a pulse at the base of Connolly’s neck. For a long moment, he felt nothing. Then a hand reached up and grabbed his arm.

  “Anderson,” Connolly whispered, the name coming out as a gurgling sound.

  Trevor leaned close to his friend’s mouth to listen over the sound of the gunfire all around. He didn’t dare turn on a flashlight. Any light at that point would only provide more of a target for the shooters. Instead, he ran his hand across Connolly’s chest and unbuckled the bulletproof vest. Inside, his uniform was dry. “Where are you hurt?”

  “You have to…get…out…of here,” Connolly said, the sound barely loud enough to be heard over the melee.

  “I’m not leaving without you,” Trevor said.

  “You have to.” Connolly’s hand tightened on Trevor’s arm. “Go.”

  “Not without you,” Trevor insisted. “Lana would never forgive me.”

  “Lana,” Connolly’s hand slid off Trevor’s arm and fell to his side. “She loved us both.”

  “Yeah, so don’t disappoint her. She expects you to come back in one piece.”

  “We talked…about having kids…someday.” Connolly lay still for a long moment.

  No matter how hard Trevor searched, he couldn’t find the wound on Connolly’s front side. He pulled his friend’s arm in an attempt to roll him onto his side.

  His friend resisted, albeit with little strength. “No. It’s too late.”

  “No, it’s not.” Trevor cupped the back of Connolly’s head. “You’re coming home. Alive.”

  His friend shook his head. “Home, yes. Alive? Not so much. Take care of her.” He touched Trevor’s arm, and then his hand slid away, falling back to the earth. “Take care of Lana. She’ll need help. But she won’t ask for it.”

  “What do you mean, she’ll need help?”

  “She’ll feel guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t just love me,” Connolly said, his voice fading. His eyes widened, the whites glowing in the darkness. He reached up, his hand gripping Trevor’s arm in a sudden display of strength and determination. “Promise you’ll take care of her.”

  “You’re coming home to take care of her yourself,” Trevor insisted. “You’re coming home.”

  “Promise, damn it.” Connolly half-lifted his head from the ground, his grip on Trevor’s arm tightening.

  “Okay, I promise,” Trevor said. “But you’re not leaving me, man. I won’t let you.”

  “You don’t get that choice.”

  Trevor had to lean close to catch Connolly’s last words.

  The hand on his arm slipped free and fell to the ground. Connolly lay still.

  His pulse pounding, Trevor touched his fingers to his friend’s neck, praying for a pulse. All noise and commotion around him seemed to fade into the background.

  Nothing.

  No pulse.

  He leaned close to his friend’s mouth and nose hoping to feel the gentle puff of breath against his cheek.

  Again, nothing.

  “Anderson, the attackers are moving out.” Rutherford reported. “How’s Connolly?”

  Oh, he’d found Connolly, but too late to help him. “I found him.”

  “I have a call into the Night Stalkers. They’re on their way now to cover and extract,” Cage, their ra
dio operator said. “Should be here in two mikes.”

  Taking a deep breath, Trevor ordered, “Move to the extraction point.”

  “We’ll move when you move,” Cage said.

  “Damn straight,” Rutherford agreed.

  “What about Connolly?” Tank asked quietly.

  “I’ll bring him out. Cover me in case the enemy hasn’t left the area all together.”

  “Will do,” Tank said.

  “I’ve got your back,” Cage said.

  “Me, too,” Jay C piped in.

  “All of us,” Rutherford ended. “Looks like the attackers bugged out.”

  “I’m on my way.” Trevor said. He took hold of Connolly’s arm and pulled him up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, his friend’s body a dead-weight.

  Dead.

  Trevor’s heart hurt so badly, he could barely take a step. But he had a promise to keep. Connolly wanted him to look out for his wife. Lana would be devastated over her loss. Not that Trevor would take advantage of it, but he couldn’t let her weather the loss alone. They’d been friends and still were. And friends stood by each other during bad times.

  With his teammates covering him, Trevor carried Connolly’s body to the extraction point.

  Tank and Jay C, under the cover of Rutherford, checked on the village leaders.

  They reported back that all three leaders and their guards were dead. Not only had they failed in their mission to gather data, they’d failed to keep their informants alive.

  As Trevor laid Connolly’s body on the floor of the Black Hawk helicopter, his jaw tightened, anger burning a black hole in his heart.