He nodded and covered her hand with his. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sir, I choose Sergeant Ryan Hayes for the task.”
His hand squeezed hers.
A knock sounded on the door. The man who’d identified himself as Blade opened the door a crack, poked his head out, spoke softly and then opened the door wider.
Another man in uniform with the same rank as the base commander entered and addressed Sunny first. “Miss Daye, I’m Colonel Gladson, in charge of Special Operations Forces here. Dash and Blade are part of my command.” He gave a nod to each of the men then turned his attention to the base commander. “Colonel Bratton, you are responsible for the safety of everyone on this installation; however, I’m in charge of my operatives. Any taskings for my men must go through me first.”
Colonel Bratton dipped his head. “Agreed. I need one of your men…” he jerked his head toward Dash, “this one, to provide additional protection to Miss Daye for the duration of her tour here in Afghanistan.”
“And my men have been tasked to find the source of the human trafficking ring in this province. I can’t spare a man to provide protection for one person, when there are many who will suffer in the meantime.”
“I’m sorry,” the base commander said. “But if Miss Daye insists on continuing her tour, she needs additional protection to ensure her safety. And based on what just happened inside my facility, the only people I really trust to handle her security are your men.” He lifted his chin in Dash’s direction. “Miss Daye would like to have Sergeant Hayes as her personal protection.”
“Colonel Gladson,” Dash jumped in, “have you considered the possibility of Miss Daye being just one more target to be acquired in the local human trafficking efforts?”
His commander’s brow furrowed. “I hadn’t thought about that.” The Special Operations commander cupped his chin, frowning heavily. “It could be.” His gaze met Sunny’s, his eyes narrowing. “She’d make big bucks for their operation.”
A shiver rippled down Sunny’s spine. She turned to Dash. “You think they wanted to capture me to sell?”
Dash’s jaw tightened. “We can’t be for sure, but there’s a huge problem in this province. Women and little girls are being rounded up and sold to the highest bidders.”
“If Miss Daye is a target of the trafficking ring,” the special ops commander said, “then yes, we need one of my men with her at all times.”
“Good,” the base commander said. “In the meantime, I need to perform a complete check of the perimeter to find the breach.” He nodded toward his MPs and marched for the door, stopping in front of Sunny. “By the way, the troops loved the concert. Thank you for coming.” Then he was gone, followed by the MPs.
As the last MP left, six men entered, all dressed like Dash and his teammate, Blade, wearing desert camouflage uniforms, bulletproof vests and a fine layer of dust.
The man in the lead scraped the helmet off his head and plunked it on the table. “What the hell’s going on? This place is lit up like a freakin’ Christmas tree.”
“You guys got back pretty fast,” Dash commented.
The man snorted. “Fast until we hit the gate and got the third degree from a heavy contingent of guards. They almost didn’t let us take the truck full of women and children inside the gate.” His gaze shifted from Dash to Blade, and then finally to their special operations commander. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”
The colonel’s lips twisted. He nodded toward the table where Sunny sat.
She turned to fully face the men who’d entered. Their eyes widened.
“Holy shit. You’re Sunny Daye.” The lead man exclaimed.
Sunny chuckled. “Yes, I am.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze shot to Dash. “Please tell me our man Dash didn’t make you give him a full concert for him alone.”
Sunny’s glance shot to Dash. “No, he didn’t.”
The man’s eyes widened. “He didn’t try to sneak into your quarters or hold you hostage, did he?”
Sunny laughed. “No, as a matter of fact, he saved me from being abducted by somebody else.”
The man’s brow twisted. “What the hell? Is that why the guards are all in knot and this place is lit up?”
Dash nodded. “I stopped the abduction but didn’t catch the guy who did it.”
The soldier raked a hand through his short hair. “No wonder they gave us the third degree coming through the gate.”
“We don’t know who he was or how he got on the base,” Dash said. “We need to find the guy who tried to take off with Miss Daye.”
The soldier frowned. “Is it me or is it too much of a coincidence that the man we were tasked to catch left the human auction early and Miss Daye’s abduction happened shortly after?”
“The connection did cross our minds,” the Special Operations commander said. “That’s why the base commander insisted on putting one of our guys on Miss Daye’s security detail until her tour is complete and she leaves Afghanistan.”
Dash waved a hand toward the man in front of the others. “Miss Daye, this is Rucker Sloan, our team lead.”
Sunny pushed back her chair, ready to stand.
The man held up a hand. “Don’t get up.” He closed the distance between them and held out a hand. “I love your music, Miss Daye. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Still seated, her cheeks heated as she shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine.”
One by one, Dash introduced her to his team.
“The big guy with the bulky shoulders is Craig Bullington. We call him Bull.”
Bull stepped forward and took her hand in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Miss Daye.”
She smiled. “Do I call you Craig or Bull?”
He grinned. “You can call me anything you want.”
“The wiry guy behind Bull is Dawg, aka Doug Masters. He’s the best shot on the team.”
The man stepped forward. “Pleasure.”
Sunny shook his hand. “The best shot? Are you a sniper?”
He held up the high-powered rifle with a scope attached. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve met Blade.” Dash nodded toward his teammate. “The man is an expert knife thrower.”
“Aren’t knives old school?” she asked.
“Not when silence is key to an operation,” Blade said, then winked.
Sunny nodded. “I guess so.”
Dash waved to a tall man with green eyes. “Sean McDaniels.”
“Most folks call me Mac,” McDaniels said.
“Nice to meet you, Mac,” Sunny said.
“Tank, come say hello to Miss Daye.” Dash waved a big guy over from where he perched near the door.
Tank frowned and pushed his way through the others.
“Miss Daye, this is John Sanders.”
She shook the man’s hand with a smile. “Why do they call you Tank?”
The big guy shrugged.
A handsome man with black hair and gray eyes stepped up beside Tank and draped an arm over his shoulder. “We call him Tank because he’s as graceful as an M1 Abrams tank.” He held out his hand. “Lance Rankin at your service.”