An explosion rocks the house sometime before dawn. I roll to the floor and reach for my gun, which is in a fingerprint-controlled drawer in the nightstand. My cell phone rings and I grab it too. It's Andreas and I connect the call while staying low beside the bed.

"We have a breach. Kendrick is down with a bullet in his stomach. They blew the east side of the house with some kind of rocket launcher. We've taken out at least four of their men."

My brain scrambles as I come ...