Tate adjusted his grip on his rifle, his gaze locked out the scratched window as the wheels made contact with the earth.
"Is this the correct location?" Tate asked, turning his head slightly toward his tracker over the dying hum of the rotors. His voice was laced with a dangerous impatience, the pressure in his chest building with every second his wife remained out of his reach.
The tracker looked down at the glowing tablet in his hand, checking the coordinates one last time before looking up to meet his boss's gaze. "We are exactly where the signal led us, boss. This is the spot."
The helicopter landed perfectly, settling into the dirt with a groan. Tate didn't waste a heartbeat, pushing the sliding door open and getting down along with the others. The heat of the night pressed against
