“Your damn hair is going to get you killed, Sanders,” he’d roared, still inches from her.

Although she’d been shaking so hard she’d barely been able to stand, she hadn’t backed down.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, sir.”

He’d grabbed her braid and pulled it around her neck. Hard. “What about the risk to the team?”

She hadn’t had an answer for that question. She couldn’t risk the others because of her pride.

He’d given her a cruel, mocking smile and walked away. So much for respect. That night she’d cut her hair. In the past few years, she’d let it grow back.

Zach. It was always about him.

Rick slowed down. Up ahead was an outcropping of rocks.

He parked in their shadow and climbed out. Jamie followed. She checked the sun, her watch, then pulled out her compass.

“Two miles that way,” she said, pointing northeast. “Try not to get lost this time.”

Rick grinned. “Are you ever going to let me forget that one?”

“Never.”

They walked together in silence. Thirty minutes later, they parted company. Jamie could see the compound in the distance. High fences should have shielded the inside from curious eyes, but most of them had recently been blown away. There were several buildings, trucks and dozens of armed men. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Dammit, they didn’t have a prayer of making this work.

Then she forced herself to slow her breathing. Gradually her muscles relaxed.

The terrorists had chosen this spot specifically. There weren’t a lot of trees or plants, so it was difficult to approach the compound without being seen. She found a shallow depression in the warm earth and again breathed a prayer of thanks that it wasn’t summer.

Her camouflage uniform was the color of sand and dirt. With her cap and smudged face, she would be difficult to spot unless she did something stupid. She slid off her backpack, then reached for a bottle of water. After taking a sip, she settled down to wait. An hour and fifteen minutes until Rick blew the depot. If he blew it.