Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

room.
    Griffen rose, his eyes narrowing. He did a slow sweep of the room with speculative eyes. “Are you threatening me, soldier?”
    The tension in the room rose significantly. Mack didn’t so much as blink, letting it stretch out almost to a breaking point. “I said nothing to give you that impression—
    sir.”
    “I fucking work for a living, so don’t you ever insult me like that again,” Griffen snapped. “And you’re supposed to be my friend. Have you forgotten that? We have a situation that could throw our country and all our allies into war. I want the best team I can put together to avoid this situation. All of you are aware of what Jaimie can do.
    Can any of you? Each of you has talents that are needed, but if we’re going to send you in with the best chance of success without detection, you need Jaimie. Mack, you know I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need her.”
    “But you didn’t ask,” Mack pointed out, his voice neutral. “I believe you ordered her.”
    A small smile eased the tension on Griffen’s face. “I’m used to giving orders. I’ve been doing it my entire life. I’m sorry about that, Jaimie.” He switched his gaze to her pale face. “I wouldn’t be asking you if this wasn’t a desperate situation, and I think you know that. You have a talent no one else has, or at least that we know of, Jaimie.
    Maybe it’s not something we can put a name to, maybe it’s undefined, but you have it, and it saves lives,” Griffen said. He made every effort to keep his voice gentle, aware of the men watching him. He wasn’t used to choosing his words so carefully and his voice came out a little strained.
    Her mouth trembled. “What happens if others are relying on me and I fail them and someone dies? I would never be able to forgive myself.” Like last time.
    No one died last time, honey, Mack said gently.
    You almost did.
    You saved all of our lives. The entire team would have died in that ambush if it hadn’t been for you. You never think about that part of it. We’d all be dead.

    250

    “Think of the children, Jaimie,” Kane suggested. “You know the kidnappers have to kill them. With you, we have a better chance of going in without detection.”
    “You and Mack and the boys, you go in and get those kids out yourself.” Jaimie was pleading now, clearly a last-ditch effort. She hadn’t honestly thought about what would have happened had she not warned the team of the ambush and found them the clearest route possible to escape. Maybe they did need her, but . . .
    She swallowed hard, her eyes meeting Mack’s in desperation. He crossed to her side, his hand going to the nape of her neck, fingers easing the tension from her.
    “If we needed cowboys to go in, guns blazing, we’d have any number of men, but we can’t do that, Jaimie,” Griffen said. “We have to get in and get out with no sound, like ghosts. The boy is the only son of the ambassador to D.P.R.K. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the international implications.”
    Jaimie sagged against Mack in defeat, her heart going out to the grieving parents, to the terrified children. She had to go. She knew what it was going to cost, though.
    I’ll be with you, Jaimie, Mack reminded. We’re getting better at blending our energies. And you’re stronger. We can do this.
    I guess we have to, she conceded. “I guess I’m going with you.”
    Griffen smiled. “With your ability you can walk in and take them back without a fight.”
    “You and I both know it’s impossible to control a situation like this. Most of it is pure luck,” Jaimie argued. “And good intel.”
    “Well, we have you for that,” Griffen said. Now that she’d capitulated, he was in a better mood. “General Chun is a fine man, a man any military man would respect. He has a code of honor. But let me tell you all, right now he’s afraid, terrified even, and a man like Chun should never have such a look in his eyes. I didn’t meet the little girl’s parents but you know her brother, you went to the university with him and trained with him before you became GhostWalkers.”
    Jaimie’s teeth bit into her lip again. There had been one recruit from North Korea, and she should have recognized the name. Kim-son Song. He had spoken of his younger sister often. She’d been born many years after him—an unexpected gift, he called her.
    It was Mack who actually voiced the question, Mack the field commander, Mack who felt totally responsible for his