Hitting Xtremes (Xtreme Ops Book 1)

by Em Petrova

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  Hitting Xtremes

  Xtreme Ops

  Book 1

  Copyright Em Petrova 2020

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2020

  Cover Art by Bookin’ It Designs

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

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  More in this series:

  TO THE XTREME

  Xtreme Behavior

  Xtreme Affairs

  Xtreme Measures

  No amount of snow and ice can melt this attraction…

  Special ops captain Penn Sullivan is no stranger to extreme conditions, but chasing an elusive drug trafficker through the Alaskan wilderness proves a challenge. His beautiful and bossy bush guide claims to know the land better than any high-tech GPS system the military offers and has Penn alternately grinding his teeth with frustration…and from a heavy dose of lust for the bold woman with too much allure for her own good.

  First the bush plane belonging to Cora Hutton’s daddy is hijacked. Then it goes down in the remote area locals call No Man’s Land. Now a special ops unit with more gadgets and muscles than brains or skills to last in the elements is on a man hunt—and she’s determined to help. But it doesn’t take long before she finds that a big, strong tough-guy like Penn really does know how to keep a woman warm on a frigid mountainside.

  Penn never thought he’d struggle to keep his hands off a woman dressed like an abominable snow-woman, and after Cora finds him looking at her in the same way, it feels like striking gold. When their search goes sideways, one of them must make a sacrifice. Cora is no stranger to taking risks, but no way will Penn let the woman go down without fighting like hell for her.

  Hitting Xtremes

  by

  Em Petrova

  Prologue

  Penn’s lungs seared from lack of oxygen.

  His pulse slowed. He focused on each painful throb of his heart responding to deprivation. His limbs started to grow heavy as his body reserved its stores for primary functions like keeping his heart beating. Still, he pushed on.

  He was approaching minute two under water and shooting for three. He’d make it easy—he’d done it countless times.

  Moving past the two-minute mark, he continued to swim the passage used by the underwater rescue units for training excursions. He wasn’t part of any rescue unit, but he liked to keep in shape. Over the past year and a half spent in Europe, he’d gotten a bit lax in his training, so he figured it was about time to make a stop off the coast of Thailand and give himself a good challenge.

  Ahead he spotted the light at the end of the underwater cave. By the time he reached it and pushed upward to the surface to gulp a mouthful of air, he’d hit the 3:02 mark on his diving watch his brother Nash had given him.

  With a final burst of energy, Penn tunneled through the final stretch toward the surface. One more hard paddle and he emerged from the water, lips tipped to the sky as he sucked precious air into his lungs.

  After the Texas Rangers kicked him out for not following protocol, he didn’t have a home with any law enforcement, armed forces or special ops teams…but he still had what it took.

  He climbed the bank to the pile of belongings he dropped there. As oxygen flooded his system again, he felt warmed all over and tingly too. Stripping off his wetsuit reminded him that he might have never surfaced. He could have drowned down there. People did. The Thailand government reported dozens of dead adventurers who perished in this cave every year.

  Penn was never worried—he wouldn’t have attempted the challenge if he wasn’t confident in his skills.

  With his wetsuit hanging around his hips, he drew on his heavy pullover and sat on the ground, soaking up the warmth of the sun, and took a minute to recover. His phone buzzed, and he reached for his jeans cast off nearby.

  As soon as he spotted the name on the screen, a big grin stole over his face. He brought the device to his ear. “Hey, bro.”

  “Where the hell have you been? I called you twelve times.” Nash’s irritated tone projected through the speaker.

  He studied his surroundings of water and the rock entrance he’d just emerged from. “I’m hangin’ out at the beach,” he responded.

  “The beach. Jesus. Well, if you’d picked up your phone you’d know I’ve been trying to get in touch with you because something big’s happening.”

  “Did you get your wife pregnant again? Because that’s not really news at this point, bro.”

  “No, Nevaeh isn’t pregnant again. It’s hardly been two months since Opal was born. Which reminds me you haven’t paid us a visit to meet her. If you take this offer on hand, who knows when that will happen.”

  Penn sat up straighter. “Offer?” He’d performed a few tasks to help the Ranger Ops down in Texas and expected his brother to ask for assistance again now.

  “Homeland Security is forming another special forces unit. Your name was bandied around more than once, Penn.”

  He started shaking his head before any words formed on his lips. “Not interested in anything long-term.”

  “Not even heading your own team in PNW?”

  For a moment, Penn felt he was in the depths of the murky darkness again, navigating through tight spaces while trying not to get caught on the jagged protrusions of the cave walls. The Pacific Northwest region Nash mentioned was one of the few places Penn was passionate about. He loved the challenges that came with the terrain, and how he could get lost in the wilds to escape people.

  “You listenin’ now?” Nash drawled out.

  “Are we talking Operation Freedom Flag?”

  “You got it. They’re seeing a lot of issues on the borders between the US and Canada. Also, the 180th meridian.” The 180th meridian passed through the Aleutian Islands, making Alaska’s westernmost portion actually situated in the Eastern Hemisphere. And that meant Russia claimed an easy point of entry for trafficking of drugs, humans or weapons, all rousing the attention of the division of Homeland Security known as Operation Freedom Flag.

  “It’s called OFFAT—Operation Freedom Flag Alaska Tundra.”

  Penn’s ears perked up, and a blast of energy brought him to his feet. Looking at the Thailand shore, he only saw the raw beauty of their forty-ninth state which they spoke of. He’d spent a brief time in Alaska with a couple friends right out of high school, hiking and camping in the mountains, but he always hoped his work would take him that direction again.

  “Xtreme Ops,” Nash concluded. “And you’re number one on the list for team captain, Penn. Now get your ass to Home-Sec HQ today and claim that spot. You’re getting one more chance not to fuck up the family name.”

  Penn huffed a laugh at his brother’s harsh statement. “Whatever I’ve fucked up, you made up for.”

  “Penn.” His voice sounded with warning.

  “It’s gonna take me a while to get a flight out of Thailand, big brother.”

  “What the fuck are you doing in Thailand? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear that you just risked your life in that fucking cave. I’ll let the head of OFFAT know that you’re coming. No stop-offs to get laid, eithe
r. Got it?”

  “And here I had a little honey-skinned Thai beauty and her friend ready to wrap themselves around me.” He didn’t, but his lie made Nash groan, and anytime a little brother could get a rise out of his big brother, it was a good day.

  “Don’t make me look like an incompetent ass, Penn.”

  “On my way now.”

  “Damn, you’re really going to take this opportunity?”

  Now that Penn had the idea locked in his brain, he couldn’t think of letting it slip by. He grabbed his things off the ground, jammed his boots on his feet and started walking toward the small parking area where he’d left his rental.

  Fighting traffickers, drug lords, Russian mafia, arms traders and any number of border patrol problems, all in the setting of a land that both awed and thrilled him, seemed like the most exciting opportunity he’d ever be handed.

  “I’ll call you when I land in Virginia, Nash.”

  “I’ll be waiting. And I’m fucking thrilled that you won’t be working solo anymore. That shit’s been scaring all of us since the day the Rangers gave you your walking papers. At least now you’ll have a team of men watching your back. I gotta run. Call me.”

  “Will do. And Nash?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter One

  “Welcome aboard, sir. I hope you enjoy your flight with Wild Alaska.”

  Penn looked at the kid who couldn’t grow more than a patchy beard standing off to the side of the entrance to the puddle jumper aircraft. He didn’t even want to think about his hairless balls.

  He hoped to hell this guy wasn’t his pilot, but he was glossing over the situation to himself. The young man wore the pilot’s uniform of starched white shirt and cap.

  Penn gave a single nod as he crowded his six-foot-two frame under the plane door and hunched through the narrow aisle to his seat. He’d flown on everything but a hot air balloon in his line of work, but he was accustomed to catching rides on military fighter jets or chartering private planes in Central America. The puddle jumpers were the worst for their lack of space.

  His shoulders took up his seat and projected into the aisle. Times like these he felt like a giant fitting himself into a child’s playhouse. He flipped the tiny window shade open to reveal a miniscule window smaller than his hand.

  Staring beyond the wing at the airport tarmac, he reminded himself the adventure didn’t lie in the journey in this case. Once he reached the rendezvous point of Nanouk Ridge to meet up with his new team, then the real adventure would begin.

  Xtreme Ops. He didn’t know why he’d been earmarked as leader, when he worked solo for the past five years. Though he considered himself a bit of a loner, he looked forward to the challenge of leading men.

  He ran through his itinerary in his brain—arrive in Nanouk Ridge. Meet with his team. He planned to share a dinner and bond a bit, which was damn important in this line of work. If you didn’t trust the man on your six, you didn’t have a team. OFFAT commissioned them all living quarters and their equipment was on site, so he planned a training session to ensure all were up to snuff.

  He also hoped their headquarters was better than the dump the Ranger Ops initially operated out of, but knowing government funding, he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

  Two other passengers boarded, looked at Penn taking up part of the aisle and skirted past him to find alternative spots to sit. He fastened his seatbelt, which barely wrapped around his body, and settled in for takeoff with his knees crunched. There never was enough leg room in these things, but he didn’t make the flight plans—some peon in DC did.

  The pilot came on the intercom to announce takeoff. Penn twisted his lips, waiting for his voice to crack. Within minutes, they were in the air, and he settled in his seat as much as he could to think about his men.

  Lipton—former Marine decorated with medals from stints in the Middle East. Singlehandedly rescued a political leader from a hostage situation.

  Broshears, who’d performed some top-secret missions in North Korea that the government wasn’t admitting to. Penn heard he was a damn scholar of weaponry and the joke was that Penn shouldn’t be surprised to see the man carrying a fifteenth century battle axe.

  Hepburn aka Hep. Skilled strategist and all-around tech guru. He was glad to have such a man on his team.

  Glancing from the window, Penn saw a wisp of smoke rising from one of the small engines. After hundreds of flights, he thought it was an odd thing to be seeing, but the pilot would be made aware of a problem through his instrument panel.

  Penn turned his attention to his team. Six men total, with Gasper and Beckett rounding them out. Both powerhouses in the field and skilled fighters. When he thought of this group he’d only met in a thick file, a knot of pride settled in his chest. Was this how his brother felt. If so, no wonder he was so damn full of himself.

  Suddenly, the copilot appeared at the screen between the cockpit and the seating. He wasn’t as young as the pilot but he looked about twelve with a load in his diaper right this second. Sweat beaded on his brow as he addressed all three of the passengers onboard.

  “We’re experiencing an issue that might cause a little turbulence. Please keep your seatbelts buckled.”

  One look at the guy’s face—then the smoke now pouring from the engine along with tiny licks of flames—and Penn knew ‘keep your seatbelts buckled’ was code for put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye.

  The plane gave a sudden dip, sending the copilot toppling through the divider and leaving the cockpit wide open. Penn assessed the situation in a fraction of a brainwave. Lights blinking. Pilot holding tight to the controls as the plane started into a downward drop.

  Behind him, the two passengers screamed. Penn couldn’t just sit here waiting for the plane to crash and end his life before he even got a chance at his own guts and glory.

  He ripped off his seatbelt and staggered forward to the cockpit.

  “You can’t be here,” the copilot said.

  With a sharp move, Penn brushed the man aside and forced him out of the cockpit. Through the windshield, the ground was rushing closer at an alarming rate.

  “Lost an engine?” he asked the child pilot.

  “Yes, I thought it was okay and we’d reach our destination on the other engines.” He tried to pull the nose up, but doing so too fast would only result in something worse.

  “Calm down. You were trained for an emergency landing. Pick a spot and put this bird down,” Penn commanded.

  Instead of instilling calm confidence in the guy, Penn’s words only flustered him more. The plane angled sharply.

  “What do I do?” The pilot’s voice burned with fear.

  “Give me the plane.”

  “You can fly?”

  Penn gripped the yoke and pulled up even as he adjusted speeds, wind flaps and accounted for the wind speed. After a quick calculation in his head, he figured they had a chance if he angled the bird against the wind. The resistance would slow them enough for him to get control.

  Maybe.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” the pilot asked in a frantic voice.

  “Be quiet.” He concentrated on the ground. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about making an emergency landing in someone’s living room. The land was wide open below.

  “I’m going to land it—there.” He pointed northeast to a spot of pale green that could only be open field. He banked right.

  The remaining engines should have done the job, as the pilot mentioned, but Penn would bet his favorite sidearm on there being a technical issue with the other engines as well.

  Fucking puddle jumpers.

  The plane hit a pocket of air and dropped several feet. Behind him, more screams sounded from the scared passengers. He clenched his jaw and took control.

  The ground rushed closer. It wouldn’t be an easy landing, but they’d damn well be on the ground in one piece if he had anything to say about it.

&nb
sp; “Tell them to assume the crash position,” he commanded the pilot as he yanked his own seatbelt hard to counteract the G-force of falling out of the sky.

  “We’re going to crash?”

  “No. But we’re comin’ in hot.”

  The pilot conveyed the order, and seconds later, Penn put the plane down with a hard bang that shot him forward against his seatbelt.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, still gripping the yoke while he assessed the situation. He threw the pilot a look. “Shut the engines down and get everybody out in case this thing goes up in flames. Wild Alaska is the perfect name for your plane service, son.” He stood, leaving the pilot to deal with the workings of his plane.

  As he stepped out into the field he’d just landed in, he studied his surroundings.

  Hell yeah. He smiled.

  This was exactly the thrill he was seeking.

  “All loaded, Cora.” Hank Hutton, known in his Air Force days as Eagle, offered her a smile as he placed the gallon jugs of water onboard the bush plane.

  “Want me to weigh the passenger’s bag?” she asked her father.

  Her dad eyed up the man standing on the dock waiting to board the small craft that would take off from the water. Cora didn’t need to look at the guy to know that he was weird. In Alaska they dealt with a lot of odd ducks, from people born and raised here to visitors.

  Usually passengers who chartered their plane services into the wilderness were dressed as tourists did, wearing overpriced clothing purchased from outdoorsman catalogs. This one wore black jeans and a black leather jacket beneath a black puffer jacket.

  Her father grunted. “If a hunter sees him, he’ll think he’s a bear out of hibernation.”

  Cora hid her smile and turned to the dock. She approached the man standing there with a duffel bag that appeared bulky with goods and probably weighed more than the required limit to keep their plane light.