“Please,” he says. His voice breaks.

I close my eyes.

“I promise,” I say.

I hate breaking promises. I promised him that if he were to die on the battlefield, I would go back to the mountains and live with Dad. Fortunately, I’ve got a keen eye for loopholes. Chris didn’t die on the battlefield. He went missing in action.

There’s a difference.

So here I am, leading a rescue unit into Los Angeles.

Sorry, Chris. I love you too much to leave you in the hands of my enemies.

Even if it means breaking my promise?

Yes. Even then.

I’m sitting on the edge of the biggest couch in the living room of the ranch house. We are leaving tonight. It’s cold, drizzly and dark. I stare out the front window. I have barely been able to rest while I’ve been here. I’m anxious, on edge. Wondering where Chris is… if he’s alive… if he’s being interrogated. What if he’s being tortured?

I can’t even think about that.

I stand up and pace the length of the room, boots sinking into the soft carpet. The platoon is outside, getting ready. I’m waiting for my Lieutenants to meet me here. I need to speak to them privately before we leave this place.

Because when we leave… we might not be coming back.

Morbid, but true.

“What’s up, boss?” Derek asks as he saunters into the room, his rifle over his shoulder, pack on his back. “Bad news?”

“No,” I reply.

Uriah, Vera, and Andrew enter the room right behind him, geared up and ready to go.

“You’re going to need to travel as lightly as possible,” I say. “We’re not driving into Los Angeles, it’s too dangerous. And we can’t fly, either.”

“So how are we getting in, Hart?” Vera snaps. “We can’t just appear there.”

“I’ll show you,” I say.

We take a long hallway toward the back of the building, exiting into the backyard. Only this backyard is massive. An empty swimming pool fed by a natural spring is wedged between lavish landscaping — exotic shrubbery and marble water fountains.

“Geez Louise,” Derek says. “How rich was Arlene?”

“Very rich,” Manny replies. “Her family raised cattle for over a hundred years. Good salt-of-the-earth people.”

“How do you know her family?” I ask.

“We go back a long way. I’ll tell you the story sometime.”

“Fair enough.”

In the back of the property, the stables stand tall and proud. The building is beautiful, and once we enter the side door, I smell straw and livestock. It’s a comforting scent. One that reminds me of my time spent with Chris and his family last Christmas. Before their farm was burned to the ground.

The interior is glowing with lamplight. Beautiful horses snort and shake their heads in their stalls. Maybe they’re not used to having this many people in their living space.

Sorry, guys.

“Oh, my God…” Vera mutters. “Horses. We’re taking horses.”

“It’s the tactical edge we need,” Manny exclaims. “And fortunately for you, I know everything there is to know about horseback riding. You’re welcome.”

“We’re going to die on these things,” Vera sighs.

“Not likely,” I reply. “United States Special Forces used horses in Afghanistan. They’re tough, they make good time, they’re pretty much all-terrain… and they’ll get us in and out of the city undetected.”

“Not a bad idea,” Andrew remarks.

“Not bad at all,” Uriah adds.

Vera slowly, hesitantly strokes the nose of a toffee-colored horse. She’s smiling, peaceful. When she catches me watching her, she hardens.

“So,” she says. “What now?”

“We saddle up, obviously,” Manny replies. He pats the cheek of a brown-hued horse. “Take only the necessary items. Weapons, food, ammo and water. You’ve all got tactical medical kits on your person, so besides that… you should be set. Keep it light, boys and girls.”

“We brought a ton of supplies in the Humvees,” Derek comments, “and there’s no way we’re going to be able to take all of it on horseback. My RPG is going to have to stay behind.”

He looks utterly crushed.

“It’ll be okay, Derek,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “We can’t use an RPG in downtown Los Angeles, anyway. It’s not exactly discreet.”

“No.” He grins. “But it would be awesome.”

“Manny,” I say in a low voice, “you’re going to have to walk me through this. I’ve never been on a horse before.”

“Girl, believe me when I say that you more than anyone else here is capable of riding a horse,” Manny answers. He presses my hand against the forehead of his horse. “This is Katana. She’s my favorite of the lot, and the most even-tempered. She’s best suited for you.”

“Oh.” I peek around the side of Katana’s head, studying her huge, long lashed brown eyes. “Hey, girl. Nice to meet you.”

Katana nickers a soft, breathy nuzzle in response.

“The secret of horseback riding is simple,” Manny begins. Arlene strides into the room with a bucket of water, sets it down near Katana’s stall, and looks at me.

“I see you’ve taken a liking to my favorite girl,” she whispers.

I shrug. “Um, actually…”

“Ladies,” Manny interrupts. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to give a lecture here.”

“Please continue,” I say.

The platoon fills the stable. We must look odd. Twenty-five camouflaged militiamen inside a 150-year-old stable. Then again… soldiers and horses were the equivalent to soldiers and Humvees not so long ago.

“Like I was saying before I was interrupted,” Manny goes on, raising an annoyed eyebrow, “the secret of horseback riding is very simple. Get on, hang on and pay attention. You exercise common sense and the horse will, too. You stay calm, and the horse will stay calm. You take care of your horse, and your horse will take care of you. It’s not really any different than a relationship with a human, actually.” He gestures to Katana. “Take this horse, for example. Fine tempered creature, common sense. As long as you treat her right, she’ll treat you right.”

“Sounds like dating advice to me,” Derek remarks.

The militiamen laugh. Manny cracks a smile.

“Very true,” Manny says. “Like I said. They’re not so different from people.”

“How do you know so much about horses, flyboy?” somebody shouts.

“I was raised with horses. Worked with them all my life in a stable before I got into flying. Now who’s ready to ride into Los Angeles?”

“Hi-ho Silver,” Uriah mutters, smiling at me.

“The Lone Ranger,” I say.

“Yeah. Now that’s a great old show.”

I tilt my head. Somehow, Uriah doesn’t strike me as someone who would appreciate the classics, but hey. Who am I to judge?

“These horses can go about fifteen to thirty miles in a day with pack loads, provided we give them the proper amount of rest and care on the way into the city,” Manny continues. “We’ll be traveling on rising and falling terrain, so we’ll need to be careful about pushing them too hard.” He pauses. “So. Any questions?”

“I got one,” Uriah says.

“Go.”

He leans against the wall, jerking his thumb at a horse.

“How do we actually ride these things?”

Manny cracks his knuckles and rolls up his sleeves. He looks a little mischievous.

“Now that, my boy, is the fun part,” he says.

The night is cold, but the clouds have cleared enough to shed white, brilliant moonlight across the mountains. I’m sitting with my boots in the stirrups of Katana’s saddle, holding her reins in the palm of my hand. I’ve got nothing but my rifle on my back, my sidearm on my thigh, my knife on my belt and a jacket buttoned up to the neck.

The horses are snorting blasts of steaming breath in the chill. A couple of them paw the ground.

Manny is seated on a horse beside me, lazily studying his flight cap.

“Are you going to bring that?” I ask.