Operation Firebrand--Origin

The world on fire with violence against innocents. In places where the U.S. military cannot become embroiled. If only there was a team that could go in anyway. Now there is. Navy SEAL Jason Kromer is the tip of the U.S. military’s spear…until a sniper mission goes pear-shaped and his friend is severely wounded—thanks to Jason’s hesitation. Guilt consumes Jason and he quits the military, thinking that his days of being a warrior are gone. But along comes a mysterious billionaire who is putting together a very special covert ops team. Its mission: to go into forbidden combat zones on high-tech missions of mercy. And the billionaire wants Jason to lead that team. Two problems with that: 1) The team is honor-bound to use only non-lethal weapons (“Are you insane?”) and 2) everyone on the team is a Christian. Trouble is, Jason and God haven’t been on speaking terms since the accident. To make it worse, not everyone on the team is even former military. Oh, there’s an ex-Green Beret and a former Marine Force Recon man, but there are women on the team—albeit very hot women—and a freaking teenager. This has instant death written all over it. Then again, maybe instant death is just what Jason deserves. So Jason has to whip this team together and get to Kazakhstan, where a civil war has put a group of orphans in danger. Fine. Great. It’s the perfect way to get himself killed. This is book 1 in the Operation Firebrand series. ** Previously published in 2002 under the title Operation: Firebrand. ** Operation Firebrand—Origin Operation Firebrand—Crusade Operation Firebrand—Deliverance Excerpt from Operation Firebrand—Origin Rubble covered the ground as if a giant toddler had come in and knocked everything over. Bricks, upended furniture, burned rafters, discarded weapons, and plain old trash littered the ground exactly as they had in other war-torn cities. Where buildings still stood, most were on the brink of collapse. Some were missing corners, some were blackened by smoke, and some were gone completely. Jason could see stars through the wall of one of the dingy white apartment buildings that lined the street. Jason and Trieu reached the front of the orphanage. It had burned almost to the ground. A brick husk remained to mark the general layout of the building. The walls had five feet of solid concrete at the bottom. The first ten rows of pink bricks remained in places. Jason signaled for Trieu to take cover and watch behind him while he went inside the ruins. She crouched against the wall. Jason stepped through the entryway. The infrared imagers in his goggles gave him a green monochrome view of the destruction. He saw furniture amid the heap of ash and plaster: overturned desks, chunks of couch stuffing, a blackened refrigerator, and dozens of metal bed frames. Jason’s stomach constricted. In his mind’s eye he saw dozens of orphan girls having pillow fights on these beds. The frames were so tiny. Suddenly this wasn’t a cut-and-dried FedEx op anymore: Now it was a rescue mission. Jason kicked around in the wreckage, half-dreading to find a little human ribcage. As he searched, his mind tried to reconcile this newfound desire to save the children with the demands of his own private plan. Probably there was no conflict. Probably he could still make sure the children got out safely. All along that had been part of the deal, anyway. It was only that, before, the kids were just packages to be delivered. Now they were little girls who slept in little steel beds. It made a difference somehow.