Ready For All (The Warrior Book 9), page 1
READY FOR ALL
THE WARRIOR™ BOOK NINE
MARTHA CARR
MICHAEL ANDERLE
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2022 LMBPN Publishing
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
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LMBPN Publishing
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Version 1.00, July 2022
ebook ISBN: 979-8-88541-335-0
Print ISBN: 979-8-88541-339-8
THE READY FOR ALL TEAM
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Larry Omans, Zacc Peltor, Paul Westman
Thanks to our JIT Readers
Christopher Gilliard
Dorothy Lloyd
Dave Hicks
Wendy L Bonell
Diane L. Smith
Editor
SkyFyre Editing Team
CONTENTS
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
The Story Continues
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CHAPTER ONE
The noise of the small, private aircraft was nothing like the constant roar of a C-130 aircraft Corporal Idina Moorfield could recognize anywhere. So when Sergeant Briggs grinned at her from his jump seat on the other side of the aircraft, it was that much easier to hear what her team leader had to say.
“You look scared, Moorfield.”
The other operators of Hellion’s Bravo Team snickered and exchanged knowing looks as the jump seats jostled them around with the turbulence.
Idina fixed her team leader with a deadpan stare. “Only because I keep thinking one of you is gonna hit a powerline or something, and I’ll have to start this mission by healing whatever idiot breaks his neck.”
The entire Bravo Team cracked up laughing, including Briggs. Chewing the same piece of gum he’d stuck in his mouth before they’d loaded up into the plane and taken off from Fort Riot, he grinned back at her and nodded. “And here I was, wondering how the hell Bravo ever did anything before Moorfield’s fucking A-plus pep talks.”
She tightened her hold on her reserve chute strapped to her chest and sat back against her jump seat. “You can thank me later, Sergeant.”
The team laughed again, shook their heads, and leaned back into their seats as they waited for the proverbial green light to signify that they’d entered the designated jump zone. Only this aircraft didn’t have an actual green light because it didn’t have to. Hellion’s Bravo Team did things a little differently.
Sitting on Idina’s right, Chandler elbowed her in the arm. “Don’t start thinking you’re special, Moorfield. Everyone’s first real mission’s always a fucking nightmare.”
“Oh yeah?” She snorted with a quick smile at the giant soldier. “What changes after that?”
“Nothing,” Trigger added from across the aisle. “You get fucking used to it.”
The other operators either smirked, stared straight ahead at nothing, or closed their eyes to mentally prepare themselves for what came next as soon as they got their green light to jump. Idina couldn’t close her eyes. It made her feel like she might miss something.
I can handle a jump, no problem. It’s the fucking wait in a plane with nothing else to do that gets me.
Her knee started bouncing all on its own as the plane bumped around a little more in the night sky and jostled the Hellion operators waiting to get started on their next mission.
Tonight, their jump zone was out in northwest Philadelphia, which would have taken a little longer to reach if they’d been shipped out in a standard Army C-130 as she’d trained in. The Hellion jet was supposed to cut that time in half. So far, Idina felt like they’d been up in the air for at least three times longer than they should have been.
Any minute now, Bravo Team would be jumping out of their contracted aircraft and regrouping on a private civilian property to handle a supernatural threat no one had ever dealt with before—not even Hellion Command.
Bravo took out the Olc together. Apparently, the next step is to go after a complete unknown with zero intel on what this mob is. I guess now we’re the ‘we have no fucking clue’ team.
She looked around at the faces of the other seven operatives on her team—the people who’d put their lives and careers on the line to help Idina and Colonel Richard MacBlair defeat their family’s ancient enemy—and smirked.
Yeah. We can totally handle it.
Grossman had been sitting almost the entire time with his head bowed so far forward that his chin almost touched his chest. Another patch of turbulence hit the aircraft, rocking them again in their jump seats. Then Grossman whipped his head fully upright with a sharp hissing inhale and blinked. “Five minutes, Bravo!”
The operators shifted in their seats, cleared their throats, coughed, or sniffed. Now that they had their very short countdown from the operator on their team who’d pulled that information from the pilot’s mind, everyone was on high alert.
Idina stretched her neck from side to side, feeling the tight straps of her chute on her shoulders and the weight of her weapons kit on the attached drop line resting between her legs.
First time I get to jump with magically powered weapons and a coherent team who knows what they’re doing. Even if we have no idea what this new mob is.
“One minute!” Grossman shouted over the engines, although that volume in a craft like this wasn’t necessary.
Immediately, the whole team pushed themselves out of their jump seats and double-checked their neighbor’s static lines.
The door opened beside Sergeant Briggs, who grinned at the rest of the team while they all waited for Grossman’s final go-ahead. That last minute felt like half an hour.
“Green light, Sergeant!”
“Rock and roll!” Briggs shouted.
The first operator out the door was Bam. Two seconds after he disappeared, Wilson followed him. Then Trigger, Edgars, Chandler, and finally Idina. Briggs shot her an exaggerated wink and clapped her back before she jumped up and out and was jerked slightly by her static line pulling free. She fell, the wind whipping against her helmet and cheeks and filling her ears with nothing but a constant roar.
Then her chute was fully open, catching the night air and pulling her up.
Idina could barely make out the six figures of the rest of her team and their open chutes below her. When she craned her neck to look up, she caught the barest glimpse of Sergeant Briggs’ dangling legs beneath his open chute before the slipstream above her pulled him directly overhead. The top of her Military Phoenix chute cut off her visual on her team leader, and she returned her attention to the last few seconds of waiting.
Below her, the streetlights of the large, affluent gated community glittered in the darkness. She pulled on her risers to slip to the right and follow the rest of her team toward their designated landing area, which happened to be the massive, exquisitely landscaped back yard of one Charles Thwinton.
Jumping with a Phoenix canopy only took half the pressure and effort with the risers for three times the precision of the old T-10C chutes she’d trained with during Airborne school. Idina couldn’t help but grin as she tugged again on the risers to follow the line of Bravo operators floating down toward the target.
This gear is amazing. Piece of cake.
Five seconds after that, she was at the tree line, which also happened to be the same altitude as the roofs of the massive houses in this particular neighborhood. Idina released her weapons kit and gear on the drop line and felt the slight tug of the extra weight—which wasn’t much—when it hit the manicured lawn three seconds before she did. Then she leaned left, hit the ground, rolled, and immediately slapped the clip on her harness to release the chute.
By the time she’d finished landing the jump, everyone who’d gone before her was already on their feet with their chutes retracted into their packs—courtesy of the newest state-of-the-art technology by Tigh Ghleann
Industries—and weapons in hand.
By the time Sergeant Briggs landed and rolled no more than six feet behind Idina, she had packed her gear and was ready to move out with the others. Their team leader was quick to gather up any evidence of his jump. Then he signaled for them to move toward the back of the house.
Lucky for us this guy lives in a big-ass mansion on a giant property with spread out neighbors. Otherwise, we probably would’ve landed on the roof.
That was the point of planning this mission for a landing time of oh two thirty. There was less likelihood of being seen by hundreds of civilians when they were all asleep in their king-sized pillowtop beds, reassured by the assumption that their gated community had enough exclusive security to keep the dangers out.
For the most part, those civilians assumed correctly. Except when it came to supernatural entities popping up on the map and sending out crazy magical signals from the center of Charles Thwinton’s home. No amount of security cameras, home alarm systems, or armed guards staffing the booths at the neighborhood’s three separate gates could keep that kind of threat from getting in if the monster wanted to enter.
That was exactly what this monster had set its sights on doing. This was where Hellion came in.
Idina moved swiftly and silently with the rest of her team toward the back of the enormous house. When they paused, Briggs pointed at Trigger and signaled again. They didn’t need Grossman’s telepathic ability to act as a magical comms unit for the entire team. Everyone knew what came next when it was Trigger’s turn to do her thing.
A gust of cool night air and a fine mist of disrupted dewdrops were the only evidence of the woman’s abrupt departure—or that she’d ever stood there. Before the mist of churned-up water had finished settling out of the air, Trigger reappeared at Briggs’ side and nodded.
There was a small pinch in Idina’s head right behind her eyes, then the images from Trigger’s perimeter check that Grossman had pulled out of the other woman’s mind blossomed in Idina’s.
The perimeter was clear. Three security cameras showed on the north-facing front of the mansion, one mounted at the front door and two affixed to the east and west corners of the second story. Only one light in the entire building was on. It was in the northwest corner, most likely from a bathroom or hallway light left on in case somebody needed to come downstairs for a glass of water or a midnight snack. No unknown vehicles had parked out front, which meant the Thwinton residence wasn’t hosting company for the night.
“External access to the alarm system?” Sergeant Briggs’ voice filled every operator’s mind, projected straight through Grossman as always.
Trigger shook her head.
Sucking on his teeth in frustration, Briggs headed toward the massive French doors off the ground-level patio at the back of the mansion. “Looks like deactivating the alarms is off the table, so we’re a go with Plan B.”
The rest of the team followed swiftly. Everyone but Edgars stepped lightly and took stock of everything around them on the ground they needed to avoid to stay silent. Edgars didn’t have to try because his magic enabled him to move with utter silence.
Briggs stopped at the twelve-foot-tall French doors of thick, incredibly heavy-looking wood and eyed them up and down. He was still grimacing, like being unable to disarm the Thwinton estate alarm system was a major wrench thrown into their operation that he had no idea how to deal with.
He’s not trying to come up with ideas. Idina was careful to shield her mind the way her training with Richard had taught her, in case Grossman picked up on anything. Briggs has all the ideas. He just doesn’t like whichever one of them he’s about to pick.
The sergeant stepped back from the doors and rubbed his hands together. Before he could do anything, Chandler walked steadily past their team leader and reached for the right-hand corner of the doorjamb with both hands.
“Chandler, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Briggs’ irritation came through with perfect telepathic clarity, but fortunately for the rest of the team, Grossman courteously turned down the volume from its original intensity.
Chandler stopped short, his giant hands raised toward the doorjamb, but he didn’t have to turn around or open his mouth to reply. “You said Plan B.”
“Yeah, and on this op, I’m Plan B,” Briggs replied. “Step back and at least let me try to oil up the gears before you Hulk out on us, huh?”
Chandler sighed, dropped his arms, stepped aside, and gestured at the doors like he was ushering their team leader through first.
Scowling now, Briggs whipped off his helmet and tucked it under his arm.
Idina’s eyes widened as she watched her team leader stripping down in the middle of a high-level op. What the hell is he doing?
A few quick tugs on the straps of his body armor were all it took before Briggs shrugged out of the armored Hellion vest. Then he jerked on the straps of his double shoulder holsters to remove the twin handguns that had selected him as the operator to wield them. With everything in hand, he turned one more scathing look on Chandler and whispered, “Hold my gear.”
Then he shoved everything he’d removed into the hulking man’s arms and faced the French doors again, stretching his neck out from left to right and rolling his shoulders back.
Beside her, Grossman nudged her arm and nodded at Briggs and the back door of the civilian mansion they were about to breach. “You’ll love this.”
Idina had the distinct impression she was the only operator on the team who could hear his voice in her head at that moment. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
The telepathic operator’s lips twitched into the faintest ghost of a smile. “Weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
CHAPTER TWO
As it turned out, Grossman wasn’t exaggerating.
The most Idina had seen of Sergeant Briggs’ inherent magic—not the kind he fired out of those twin pistols—was the day they’d met and he’d stumbled into her holding cell at Sim during her selections test. That day, the man had pressed a bullet into his belly and moved his guts around it to make it look like a real gunshot wound. Which, of course, Idina didn’t know until weeks later when her sergeant finally confessed to his part in her selections test and explained what his magic was.
Being told what he could do and watching it in real-time were two very different things.
For another few seconds, Briggs stood two inches away from the French doors, staring intently at the seam where they came together in the middle. Then he took one more slow step forward until the toes of his boots touched the thick, heavy wood and the front of his all-black combat uniform pressed against the doors. He leaned forward as much as possible, pushing his legs, hips, belly, chest, shoulders, and the front of his face against the back entrance of Charles Thwinton’s mansion.
The rest of Bravo Team could do nothing else but stand there behind him and wait.
At first, it didn’t look like their sergeant would do anything other than stand there with his entire body shoved against the doors. Idina shot Grossman another questioning look in the darkness. He felt her gaze on him without looking away from their team leader because he nudged her arm again and nodded one more time at Briggs.
That was when the soft, gentle, golden-brown light of Briggs’ magic pulsed against the French doors. It almost looked like it was coming through the seam and all around the enormous door frame from inside the house instead of from the sergeant standing outside.
