Model Soldier Read Online Free PDF Page A

like?”
    “Exactly that. No games, Hawkins. If the universe shifts, hell freezes over, pigs fly, and your group wins, what do you want?”
    What did he want? Cocky bastard. He’d show him. But still, Hawk couldn’t come up with a thing. “I don’t know,” he admitted after an embarrassingly long moment spent in indecision.
    Shit, why couldn’t he think of anything really good? A keg of beer crossed his mind, but didn’t seem like enough compared to the mystery assignment he’d have to take in exchange. A humvee perhaps? Dalton had said anything, but what the hell would he do with it while he was deployed, and when he got back Stateside, Hawk had a feeling if he never stepped foot inside one of those vehicles again, it would be too soon.
    “Want a suggestion?” Dalton asked after watching Hawk struggle.
    “Sure.” What the hell, might as well see what Pretty Boy had to say.
    “If Zeta loses,” Hawk didn’t miss the smirk on Dalton’s face as he emphasized the word if, “I’ll get you a tryout for the teams.”
    Hawk raised a brow and then purposely played dumb. “What teams?”
    “You know what teams,” Dalton said, the words “smart ass” unspoken but unmistakably present in his response.
    Hawk had to smile. Against all odds he was actually starting to like the Pretty Boy, but not in that way, of course.
    “So, do we have a deal?” Dalton asked, one pretty brow raised.
    David Hawkins in the SpecOps? Never. Not gonna happen, but it might be fun to see what the tryout was like and it would sure make a hell of a story if he made it and then turned them down.
    After a breath, Hawk nodded and shook Dalton’s extended hand. “Deal.”
    Dalton turned to leave when Hawk called, “Hey. Tell me one thing.”
    Pausing, Pretty Boy nodded, waiting.
    “This assignment, is it something you’d be willing to do yourself?”
    He smiled back at Hawk broadly. “I’ve already done it, Hawkins. Believe me, I’ve already done it.” Then Dalton turned to head for his task force commander, but not before looking back to add, “Oh, and Hawkins, besides the comm units, we’ve all got GPS implants, too, so Matt can keep us informed of our positions during our real-world missions. I probably shouldn’t have told you that either, but I figure your boys can use all the help you can get. See you up on the mountain.”
    Implanted tracking devices, too? Well, fuck.
    And with that less than heartening farewell, the entire Task Force Zeta team disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived, presumably to get into place on the mountain and await the arrival of Hawk’s squad, who’d be walking into a pre-planned, computer coordinated ambush like lambs to a slaughter.
    Special assignment, here I come , Hawk thought bitterly.
    Double fuck .

    “Pettit! Report!” Pinned down by Zeta’s gunfire for the past hour, Hawk had never felt so disconnected from his men nor as helpless as he did right then. Dalton’s team seemed to be everywhere, and always one step ahead of Hawk and his men.
    Hawk barely heard his Alpha team leader over the noise, but what he heard wasn’t good as Pettit’s shouting finally filtered through his earpiece, “Four of our men are down, sergeant.”
    “Wally, what’s Bravo team’s status?” Hawk needed some good news at this point but there was no answer. “Wally. Dammit! Answer me!”
    Barely audible, Wally hissed across the airwaves, “I’m not allowed to talk if I’m dead, Hawk.”
    Shit.
    More frustrated than before, Hawk shouted into his radio, “Bravo team. Someone who isn’t dead, give me a damn report!”
    Radio silence gave him his answer. As far as this exercise was concerned, the entire Bravo team was deceased. That left himself and Pettit as sole survivors of his eleven-man squad. “Pettit?”
    “Yes, sergeant.”
    “What’s your location?”
    “I’m behind the rocks just to the east of you.”
    “What do you say if we’re going to go out, we go out with a bang?”
    Always