Previous missions had been business to him, but this one hit his personal meter like a kick to the balls. He dropped his gear bag, made his way to the bow, and threw off the line while the others completed tasks like a well-oiled machine. TJ started the craft, which spewed the smell of oil and fuel. Stepping aside, he nodded to Jax. The team leader unhitched the stern rope. “Good to go, GQ.” At least piloting the boat would keep his mind on the mission instead of what-ifs. Maybe TJ and the guys thought so too, since usually the first man aboard took the helm. He noted the channel buoys as they departed. It’d been a while since he’d cruised on the Med. They closed in on a head type fishing boat that had seen better days. Haley’s phone blinked as a red dot on Cipher’s computer screen. Whoever wanted Commander Sean Halstead either wasn’t well-funded or their hired kidnappers were conserving funds for themselves.
