Mia Watts - Water Dogs

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Water Dogs
By Mia Watts
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
Water Dogs
Copyright © 2012 Mia Watts
Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green
Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com
Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-529-8
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: July 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product
of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
The Dedication
To all the men of the Navy SEALs, thank you. My apologies if I’ve misunderstood any details
during the course of my research. All errors are unintentional and completely mine.
And to the fans. Thank you, as always.
Love, Mia.
Chapter One
Three months ago; Day twenty-four of twenty-seven…
Lieutenant John Tucker squatted behind the broken, battered mud wall that used to be
someone’s home. No survivors here. He was two for eight, and though he could hear a baby
wailing, between the anti-mortar explosions, his ears rang too badly to know from which
direction it came.
Behind him, a sheet snapped angrily in the breeze. A sandstorm was coming. He could
see the haze gathering on the horizon. He needed cover soon. He wanted to protect his weapons
from the invasive sand before it jammed his M4A1 carbine and made him completely useless.
The baby squalled. Anxiety tightened Tucker’s chest with renewed urgency—to find the
kid, to help. Insurgents dotted the small town. He could be looking for a child while walking into
a trap. Either way, he wasn’t there to save children. He was there to establish a safe entry for the
Army when they arrived. Orders were orders and breaking them would be out of the question. He
tuned out the crying child, trying not to see the face of his niece as he did so.
Tucker sank to the ground, his back against the inner wall of the mud dwelling. He
pressed the small black back box strapped to his throat.
“
Skins
, report,” Tucker called out, trying to locate the rest of his team.
It wasn’t the official use of an open channel, but he was getting desperate. The last strike
had separated them. They’d arrived with other SEALs, but no sooner had they landed than the
town had been attacked by air born missile fire. It had scattered his platoon before the Skins team
had a chance to rendezvous with the Water Dogs team from another troop. Who knew if the
Water Dogs even existed anymore? There’d been smoke on the horizon from the Iraqi
destination point.
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