Dodge had knelt in front of Noemi, looking at the vest.

“Don’t take it off yet,” Ranger said. “It might be rigged to blow.”

Everything inside her turned liquid at his words.

Colt finished securing the man and stood up.

“What were you thinking?” The accusation came from Ranger, and his tone had even Dodge turning to look at him.

The question was directed at Colt.

Colt’s expression turned dark. “I was thinking I should probably save your sorry backside.”

Ranger was taller than Colt, and for a second, Noemi actually thought Ranger might hit his brother. “Just be thankful that wasn’t a dead man’s switch, or we’d all be dead.”

Colt glanced at Noemi, at her vest, and his mouth tightened.

Ranger shook his head as if in disgust and strode over to her.

“You okay?”

“Get this off me.”

“Trying.” He smelled of blood and sweat and really all she wanted was to lean into his arms. But the vest hurt, cutting into her ribs, heavy on her shoulders, and for the first time she realized that this wasn’t over.

“Range?”

“I learned how to handle explosives, but . . .” He looked at her, and something unfamiliar edged his eyes.

Fear.

Ranger was afraid.

The sense of it reached out, snaked through her, and turned her cold.

Colt came over to them. Crouched in front of her.

“You ever see anything like this?” Ranger said, his deft fingers running over the vest, as if helping him see it.

“Not up close. Usually, the thing is already detonated—”

“Stop talking.” Dodge had gotten out his phone and was scanning the apparatus. “We’ve got two wires that connect to the detonators, which attach to a couple bricks of C4.”

“The pockets are filled with steel balls,” Colt said.

“The trigger must have a remote signal,” Ranger added. “But I don’t see it.”

“There are wires attached to the belt buckle,” Dodge said.

“If you clip them, she’s dead.”

The voice came from behind them. Something darkly familiar that spiraled down inside her and nudged a packed-away memory.

She stiffened. Ranger met her eyes, frowned, then turned.

Her breath caught.

What?

A man walked toward her. Dressed in khaki pants, a brown canvas jacket, short blond hair under a baseball cap, those blue eyes on her, his mouth pinched tight.

No, no . . .

“Master Chief Sutton?” Ranger said, and then suddenly, he turned back to Noemi, his eyes wide, and his hands went to her arms, as if to hold her up. “Breathe.”

She just looked past Ranger, over his shoulder to the man. “Dad?” Oh . . . my. “Dad?”

“Hey kiddo,” he said and knelt in front of her.

She was shaking, and now looked at Ranger who just stared at her father, wordless.

“What— Dad! What are you— You’re . . . you’re dead.”