Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Read online

  “Very well, Lieutenant, that can be arranged.”

  I braced to witness her murder but the recording stopped and the screen flashed back to blue.

  The air in the room had gone electric—I was vibrating with rage and Trey and Matt were equally angry.

  I swung my pack off my shoulder, letting it fall to the floor before I took a knee and rummaged through it. I chugged back half a bottle of water before I fished the satellite phone out and made a call I didn’t want to make.

  Levi McCoy had to be going out of his mind. And as much as I wished this call was to tell the General—who’d personally flown to Israel under the pretense of a US-Israeli training campaign—that we were bringing his friend’s daughter home, he still needed an update.

  I turned off my helmet cam and made the call.

  “Update,” General Wick clipped.

  I took no offense at the man’s tone. Thanks to the live-stream, he’d just witnessed one of his oldest friend’s daughter being beaten. That had to be hell on the man.

  “Hellraiser-one is still MIA. We need evac for the KIA.”

  “Ice—”

  Hearing my callsign instead of confirmation he had a plan to evac our dead had me seeing red.

  “All due respect, Wick. There’s no chance in hell we’re leaving them here.”

  A string of expletives rang out and I heard him issuing orders.

  “Take them to the checkpoint.”

  “Come again?”

  “Get them to the checkpoint and someone will be there to accept and transport from Bravo—”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “Ice, it’s the only way. We don’t have any American assets in the vicinity.”

  “You’re fucking shitting me. The plan is for us to hand our dead over to the Russians? The motherfucking Russians. Call in a nine-line.”

  “That’s the best we got, son, unless you want to sit and wait your ass there for three hours.” General Wick expelled a long, exasperated sigh. “UN personnel will be present during the exchange.”

  “I don’t give the first fuck who’s present, General. The Pope himself could be there waiting to give the prayer for the faithfully departed and I’ll still gut those assholes if they disrespect our men.”

  “And you’ll create an international shitstorm that neither I nor anyone else will be able to contain.”

  Did Wick seriously think I gave a fuck? Not one time in my nineteen-year career in the military had I turned our dead over to a foreign fighting force.

  “Then I suggest you tell the UN forces to keep the Russians nice and friendly.”

  “You’re willing to die to protect bodies—”

  “Goddamn right.”

  “Crazy fucker. Keep your mouth shut and make the delivery.”

  Thankfully, before I could tell him where he could shove his order, earning me a one-way ticket off my team and out of the Navy, the general disconnected.

  “We got a plan?” Logan asked. I glanced at the camera on his helmet then back to him and he jerked his chin. “It’s off.”

  “We’re loading them up and taking them to a checkpoint,” I informed Logan, and unsurprisingly his response was the same as mine.

  “You’re fuckin’ shitting me. We’re handing them to the Russians?”

  This wasn’t the first time we’d had to deal with the UN’s Disengagement of Forces Agreement between Israel and Syria. The three-mile border from Bravo—the Syrian side, to Alpha—the Israeli line, was controlled by the UN in accordance to a cease-fire agreement. UN forces patrolled the area, however the Russians manned the checkpoints.

  “No assets in the area,” I mocked.

  “TARFU,” Logan muttered.

  Couldn’t argue with that. The whole situation was, totally and royally fucked up.

  “I’m gonna take one last look around. Start the loadout.”

  I didn’t wait to see if my order was followed and jogged back to the hallway leading into the cages carved into the side of the mountain. The design would’ve been interesting if it hadn’t been so disgustingly demonic.

  I flashed my light into all the cells and back into the room where I’d watched the lieutenant beaten. Without thinking, I walked to the chair, picked it up, and swung it as hard as I could toward the stone wall. It splintered apart but did nothing to calm my racing thoughts. My blood still boiled in my veins and my heart pounded against my ribs.

  Brave, stupid woman.

  “Fuck!” I roared and fought the urge to slam my fist into the wall.

  Where are you, Liberty?

  I walked back into the corridor and flashed my light around the small space.

  Come on, Ranger, where are you?

  I scanned the ceiling, the walls, the floor, then something shiny caught my eye and I moved to retrieve it.

  Liberty’s dog tags.

  I snatched them up out of the dirt and stared down at the two pieces of metal in the palm of my hand and silently vowed—I’m gonna find you and bring you home, Liberty McCoy.

  3

  “This is more fun than I’d thought it be.” I looked up into a pair of cold, dead eyes.

  I fucked up.

  In a moment of sheer weakness, I’d gone against everything my father had drilled into me.

  I lashed out.

  I’d accepted my situation and my loss of control. My mental integrity remained steadfast. I would die knowing I didn’t compromise operational security.

  But I would die.

  I’d stayed calm during the physical and psychological torture. I’d played my fear up, I’d never stopped planning escape, I’d never given up hope.

  But I’d snapped—mouthed off and broken all of the rules I’d been taught. Not only would my dad have been disappointed but my SERE instructors as well. Of course, I’d been hooded so I had no idea if I’d been recorded or not—but the asshole finally found my weakness. My real one, not me playing to his macho, I’m a man so I’m bigger, badder, and scarier than you, bullshit.

  I would rather endure any amount of torture than have my mom and dad be subjected to witnessing me being beaten. It would break my dad and destroy my mother. The video would be suppressed, but not before it made its rounds on every YouTube-style website. They would never be able to unsee that.

  “This is your last chance.” I had no doubt he was telling me the truth.

  I was on my back, my wrists shackled to the wall, ankles zip-tied, and he was straddling my hips. Even if I could buck him off, my limbs were useless.

  I closed my eyes and prepared to die. Something I’d spent time thinking about—even before my captivity. It had started during OCS, the thoughts morbid but necessary. Sometime in the hours—or maybe it was days since I’d be dragged down a long, dark tunnel and driven to a new torture-location—I’d made peace with my death.

  I drew up the memory I wanted to relive as I drew my last breath and relaxed. I wasn’t giving this asshole what he wanted. I wouldn’t beg for my life, I wouldn’t cry and scream, I would not embarrass my country or my father by being anything other than what I was—a McCoy first, an Army Ranger second.

  “My packet was accepted. I’m going to Ranger school,” I nervously told my dad.

  Pride flashed in his eyes and his mouth started to tip up before he remembered I was his only daughter and my mother was going to have a shit hemorrhage.

  “You’re sure? You don’t—”

  “Dad, when have I ever made a decision I hadn’t carefully weighed, over-thought, or agonized over?”

  That pulled a bright smile from my dad. “Never.”

  “I wouldn’t’ve brought it up if I wasn’t sure.”

  “Have you been training?”

  “Everyday. I have everything but the pull-ups maxed out. And I have the blisters to prove it.”

  “Liberty, you have to take care of your feet. I can’t tell you how many men dropped out because their feet were ripped open and they couldn’t continue.”

 
“Well, I’m all ears if you have any suggestions. Twelve miles, with a thirty-five pound ruck is hell on the arches.”

  He muttered an unintelligible curse under his breath and I smiled. Yeah, he had plenty of suggestions.

  “Are you listening, bitch? Tell me your mission objective or you’re gonna die.”

  No, I wasn’t listening to him, I was remembering how proud my dad was of me.

  “For years, I wanted Carter to be the one whose life I’d took. I’d dream of looking into his eyes as I choked the life out of him. But you were a good second choice. Only I’m bored now, and I need to know where you and your team were headed.”

  Did he just say Carter? Carter Lenox, my cousin?

  What the fuck?

  I remained quiet, trying to process why in hell he’d be talking about Carter while his hands were tightening around my throat.

  “It’s a shame, Liberty. In another life, one where your father wasn’t a piece of shit, I wouldn’t have minded having a go at you. But the thought of sticking my dick in a McCoy is repulsive.”

  His grip tightened around my throat and I could barely suck in oxygen.

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop my body’s natural reaction to being strangled. I hated myself when I gagged and my legs jerked.

  Please let this be quick. My vision started to blur and I fought to let go.

  “You did it!” My mom smiled.

  “Thanks for coming, Mama.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  My mom was putting on airs, she didn’t want me to be a Ranger any more than she wanted me jumping out of airplanes. She wanted me to live out my enlistment behind a desk. But my mom never wavered, she always stood beside me.

  “Proud of you.” My dad’s voice was gruff with emotion.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “It’s a shame.” The asshole shouting in my face brought me out of my memory. “Your dad will never know it was me that took his precious Moira’s life. But I’ll know. They took something important from me. Now I’m taking one of theirs. An eye for an eye. Your death is on them. The sins of the father…”

  It was too late to ask.

  Surrender to the inevitable and make peace—that’s all that was left.

  I’d been waiting for this moment for months. I dreamed about it. I’d pushed myself to earn it. I’d lived and breathed Ranger school. I had bled, puked, faltered, then tried harder. Everything for this moment.

  I was a Ranger.

  I earned my tab.

  “Did you like the demonstration?” I asked my mom when she and Dad came down from the bleachers to the staging area.

  “Loved every minute, but I could’ve gone without seeing my girl running face first down the rappelling wall.”

  “You mean, your Ranger,” my dad corrected with a smile.

  Mom tossed him an indulgent grin. “Yes, my Ranger.”

  “You ready?” Dad asked as I handed him my gold Ranger tab. But instead of pinning it on my left shoulder, he shoved it into his pocket and pulled out a frayed, worn patch.

  “Daddy…” I whispered and pitched my lips.

  I knew what that was. I’d played with it a thousand times after he’d taken it off his uniform and given it to me.

  “When you were little, you used to safety pin it to the front of your dresses,” Dad reminded me. “I should’ve known then that one day it would be yours.”

  In an effort not to cry like a baby in front of my fellow Rangers, my gaze went to the bleachers and landed on the rest of my family. I scanned the crowd, looking for my uncles, Jasper, Lenox, and Clark, but they were not sitting with my aunts and cousins.

  A hard thump on my shoulder and cheers of congratulation explained why my uncles were no longer with their families.

  “Ranger,” Uncle Clark gave me a nudge.

  Damn, the sound of that, the pride radiating off of the four most important men in my life filled me with more warmth than I’d ever known.

  My mom stepped back and seconds later, my dad and his brothers-in-arms, my uncles, men who had served our country with pride and honor, seen battle and had bested it, taught me, loved me, Rangers themselves before they’d gone on to become Deltas. Men who had walked in my shoes, and I in theirs. Men whom I admired and looked up to. My inspirations. Surrounded me.

  “Can’t think of a day I’ve been more proud of you,” Dad said and pinned his tab to my sleeve. “And it has nothing to do with this tab.” He tapped over the embroidered patch. “And everything to do with your determination.”

  Uncle Lenox held out his hand and opened his fist. Holy shit—his tab. “May it bring you strength.”

  With a shaky hand I took his offering. But before I could say anything, Uncle Clark held out his. “May it bring you courage.”

  “Roman!” someone shouted and the asshole loosened his grip. “Hurry up, we have company.”

  “Hold them off.”

  The pressure returned. This time I couldn’t stop my legs from kicking out.

  Uncle Jasper opened his hand and I held his gaze as he spoke, “May it remind you of those who have gone before you and their sacrifices.”

  Rangers did not cry, I reminded myself.

  “Thank you. I’ll cherish these always,” I choked out.

  “Rangers lead the way,” my dad said and smiled.

  “That is until the Combat Application Group gets there, then you step aside, Ranger,” Uncle Clark joked.

  “Love you, girl,” Dad said.

  “Love you, Daddy.”

  Then there was nothing but blackness.

  I’d won.

  4

  “So much for a UN safe zone,” Luke muttered from beside me.

  “Safe’s a relative term,” Trey returned. “I’d rather be lying here with my dick in the dirt than be in Damascus surrounded by Daesh.”

  It had been three days since we’d dropped off the Rangers at the Quneitra border checkpoint where we were met by a Russian Lt. Gen. who personally gave assurances the men would be handled with respect.

  After the exchange, which included me giving him too many hundred-dollar bills—the only bright side to that was I knew the US currency would remain in his pocket for quite some time unless he wanted to explain why he had it—we were on our way.

  “True story.” Luke chuckled.

  “You think she’s in there?” Logan asked.

  My gaze swung from the white sedan with the letters, UN, stenciled on the side, or I should say, what was left of the vehicle, to the outpost in question.

  “I do,” I answered, and it was killing me that we were lying in the dirt instead of breaching the house.

  After days of hunting we finally found someone with information, and not a day too soon. If we didn’t find the lieutenant today we’d be pulled back to regroup. At which time I’d have to call Carter, and that wasn’t something I wanted to do unless I could tell him we’d found his cousin.

  “You see anything?” I radioed Matt, hoping from his sniper perch he’d have a better view than I did.

  “Movement inside the house. Far window at your one,” he returned.

  “I’m blind. We’ll go at your call.”

  “Check.”

  “What makes you think she’s here?” Logan picked up his earlier line of questioning.

  “Besides my gut? The white Merc parked out front.”

  Our informant, if you could call the old Syrian man who’d earned himself a king’s ransom for three minutes of his time, told us he’d seen an American woman in the back of a white Mercedes, with three men accompanying her.

  “He said he thought she was American,” Logan reminded me of the small detail I was choosing to overlook.

  Not that it mattered, I didn’t need to see the Merc to know. It was almost like I had a sixth-sense, a visceral connection to the woman I’d never been face-to-face with. I just knew she was in there. Knew it down to my core.

  “She’s in there. I can feel it.”
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  Before Logan could press me further, Matt came back over the radio.

  “Wake up, boys. I got one out of the house. I’m going hot.” Logan, Luke, Trey, and I got to our feet in a crouch behind a boulder and waited. “In three, two…”

  Matt’s shot rang out and everything but our mission faded away—the singular objective of rescuing the lieutenant.

  Then we were on the move, guns out, scanning, waiting. Not that we had to wait long for chaos to ensue. This was where we excelled—why the enemy never stood a chance. Our formation was tight, our aim true, as we navigated across the expanse as one.

  Angry voices came from our nine o’clock and rapid gunfire rang out. Three men ran from the house shooting wildly in our direction. No sooner had we taken out the first three, five more ran out.

  I took aim at the man closest to me. He fell before I could get a shot off, so I adjusted my aim to the next target and pressed the trigger. Two down, three more to go. As we were clearing the men in front of us, a car started and a dusty Mercedes accelerated, spitting rocks and debris as it sped down the long dirt road.

  Seconds later, it exploded.

  “Good splash,” Matt whooped over the radio.

  Crazy bastard.

  “Whelp, if they didn’t know we were here they sure as fuck do now,” Luke complained.

  By “they” he meant the rebel forces, and he was not wrong. The explosion just cut our time in half.

  The last of the men in front of us went down and the silence was startling.

  Logan and Trey preceded us to the front door, entering the house as Luke and I took up the rear.

  “Clear,” Logan called out.

  “Clear,” Trey echoed from a room tucked in the rear.

  Luke and I hit the hallway and I felt it—a tingling in my spine so strong I couldn’t ignore it. My feet were moving before my mind registered what they were doing, and when I turned the doorknob that I found myself in front of, operational protocol was the last thing I was thinking about.

  I needed in that room. I felt it—someplace deep in my gut—I had to get inside, quickly.