Kidnapped by a SEAL
AN ALPHA SEALS NOVEL
Makenna Jameison
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Makenna Jameison.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Table of Contents
About this Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
SEAL Ever After Excerpt
Books by Makenna Jameison
About the Author
About this Book
HE’LL PROTECT HER WITH his life—and claim her as his own.
Navy SEAL sniper Ryker “Bulls Eye” Fletcher never misses a shot. When he sees something he wants, he goes after it with equal resolve. Rescuing a woman held hostage should be the end of his mission—until he’s tasked with protecting her back in DC. Gorgeous dark hair, curves to kill for, and a whip-smart personality won’t stop him from claiming her for himself.
State Department Special Agent Emily Swenson is kidnapped in Afghanistan while riding on a routine patrol. The Navy SEAL team that comes to her rescue should be the end of her ordeal—until it’s not. A ruggedly handsome SEAL haunts her dreams and wants to protect her—not to mention have her in his bed.
Targeted back in Washington by her kidnappers, she must accept help from the possessive and aggressive SEAL who saved her—but what will protect her from falling for him—hard?
Kidnapped by a SEAL, a standalone novel, is book 14 in the addictive Alpha SEALs series.
Prologue
NAVY SEAL RYKER “BULLS Eye” Fletcher fingered the delicate gold chain in his hand, frowning. Sunlight glinted off of the small pendant, and the fragile, feminine necklace looked almost comical in his large, muscular hand.
He clenched his jaw, frustration roiling through him.
Somewhere, halfway around the world, the American woman it belonged to was still being held hostage. Possibly injured. Harmed. Frightened.
Finding the forgotten necklace in his pocket brought back an onslaught of memories—searching the ramshackle camp in Afghanistan with his SEAL team for the missing woman. Finding another hostage who’d already been killed. And then nearly stepping on the gold necklace lying on the ground as they were moving out under the dark cover of night.
The last thing he’d expected to see through his night vision goggles in that hellhole was a piece of woman’s jewelry.
His teammate Mason “Riptide” Ryan came jogging over, the harness from their rappelling drill still on, and grabbed his canteen before gulping some water down. “What the hell is that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced over at Ryker.
“I found it in the pocket of my fatigues.”
Ryker held it up, watching as Mason’s eyes widened. “Wait—that’s the necklace you found at the terrorist camp? Why the hell do you still have it?”
Ryker lifted a shoulder. “I forgot about it when we hauled the Brit back to base. Then I thought I lost it in the chaos. I told the CO about discovering it on the ground, but it’s not exactly a clue to the missing woman’s whereabouts. It just proved she was there. For all I knew, I’d dropped it back in the desert.”
“Well hell. That was an entire month ago.”
“And we still don’t have solid intel on her location,” Ryker said, sliding the delicate chain back into his pocket. “We left her there in the hands of monsters.”
Mason shook his head. “We didn’t have any solid leads on where she was taken. On how to track her down. Our mission was the make-shift camp she’d been held at.”
Ryker spat on the ground, frowning. “I don’t like it. A month and nothing? Bullshit.”
“What the fuck is there to like?” Mason asked, setting his canteen back down. His gaze swept toward their other teammates in the distance. Stationed at Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek, the men drilled daily out on the ocean and around base. Ready to go at a moment’s notice, they served at the beck and call of the U.S. Navy. As soon as they received word, their team or the Alpha SEALs, the other elite team stationed on base, were sent off on missions all over the world. “As soon as we have new leads, we’ll be back on a transport across the ocean. It’s not like we’ll fucking leave her there.”
Ryker tugged at the adjustments of his own harness, eyeing the rappelling wall in front of them. Two of the men on his team came quickly down in full gear. Ryker pulled his own helmet on and grabbed his rucksack, feeling the adrenaline beginning to rush through his own veins.
“We shouldn’t have left her there,” he said, shaking his head. “No woman should’ve been left in that godforsaken place.”
And then he jogged over toward the wall to join the rest of his SEAL team.
Chapter 1
EMILY SWENSON COUGHED as the armed man nudged her forward down the dark hallway. Her hand instinctively reached for her sidearm, but of course they’d taken her weapons as soon as they’d captured her. She shuffled along in front of him, her combat boots kicking up the dusty ground. Her thin tank top clung to her breasts, the worn pants she had on hanging from her slender hips. Fit and athletic before arriving in Afghanistan, she’d lost at least ten pounds since being captured. Probably more.
They’d fed her two small meals a day and kept her mostly isolated in a dark hut until they’d moved her two days ago to this new compound.
Her eyes swept down the dim hallway.
The guard hurried her along, pushing open a heavy door. “Move,” he muttered in a thick accent, and she held her breath as she stepped inside.
It smelled of food and some sort of incense and sweat. Her stomach roiled, but since she hadn’t eaten since this morning, it was empty.
She swallowed, trying to calm her gag reflex.
No one had harmed her yet. There was no reason to worry that this was the moment.
A heavyset, bearded man sat beside a table in the dim room, smirking. His long, dark beard didn’t conceal his delight as he hungrily eyed her. He nonchalantly rubbed his groin before uttering a string of words in Arabic.
Her eyes fell to the plates of food beside him. To the ornate glasses beside the plates. Although she didn’t speak the language fluently, she understood the intent behind this gesture—join him for dinner and then let him have his way with her.
She’d be allowed to eat, and he’d be allowed to have her whenever he wanted. Like some sort of twisted sex-slave, servile wife.
She’d seen the other women hurrying throughout the vast array of buildings when she’d been brought in, eyes down. Children scampered around them, kicking balls or playing with makeshift toys. Guards stood watch, looking mostly bored until she was brought through.
And then there was him.
The man seated before her was some sort of head-hauncho for this compound with multiple wives. He hadn’t raped or otherwise harmed her—yet. But she’d only been here two days. Emily knew he was growing impatient. The first night she’d met him, she’d skittered back as he’d chuckled.
Yesterday he’d eyed her hungrily in the hallway but only looked, not touched.
And now?
Ma
ybe he’d intended to make her some sort of wife to him, but she’d die before she laid down and let him fuck her. Before she popped out his babies and let him keep her hidden away in this godforsaken place with the other women.
He barked something to the guard behind her, and the man promptly left, letting the heavy door shut behind him and leaving her alone with him.
Resisting the urge to tremble, her eyes flicked toward the food.
She was starving.
They’d probably drugged it or something to make her more acquiescent to his advances. She could fight him off, probably. But not forever. There were other men around, other guards just outside the door.
Would they tie her up or hold her down while he raped her? Could she stall him for another couple days and hope she could escape this hell hole?
She resisted the urge to shudder.
She was a special agent with the State Department for heaven’s sake. She protected others—foreign dignitaries, American officials. One night riding patrol with the guards around base and bam—she was captured.
Trapped.
Intended for the asshole, apparently.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You are American,” he said in a thick, Middle Eastern accent. His eyes ran over her fair skin and long, dark waves. They’d actually allowed her to bathe when she arrived at this compound, and that worried her. But they hadn’t dressed her in the traditional women’s clothing—she still had on her old clothes, although they’d been washed. She wasn’t required to wear a headscarf.
She met his dark gaze but didn’t respond.
“So strange, that you Americans have women in your military. We don’t allow our women to fight. You are weaker than men, no? And yet they sent you off to war in countries where you don’t belong.”
She pursed her lips together, glaring at him. There was no need to point out that she was not in fact in the military at all. Would he value her more if he realized she was with State? He’d probably be just as irritated to learn she was a trained agent whose sworn duty was to protect high-level government officials.
“I’ve never been with an American woman before,” he continued, his eyes raking over her with interest. “Such fair skin and dark brown hair. Tell me—is the hair covering your pussy the same shade as atop your head?”
Her jaw dropped, and she barely resisted gasping aloud.
He chuckled and licked his lips, looking over her some more with interest. She resisted the urge to cross her arms and step back. No doubt he could see everything through her threadbare tank top.
But she wouldn’t let this asshole see that he was getting to her. If he dared touch her, he’d get a swift kick to the balls. He was big, but Emily didn’t doubt she could get in a few punches and kicks before his guards returned.
She could probably even take this guy to the ground.
Of course, then she’d be left with the aftermath of his men returning. She couldn’t fight them all—not without her weapons. Not without adequate food and nourishment for the past month. Even if she did manage to escape, she wouldn’t be able to run very fast or far. She’d have to hide carefully so they didn’t find or track her.
“I could let my men have their way with you,” he commented dryly in a thick accent. “Unless you care to join me?”
She clenched her jaw, refusing to answer.
His gaze narrowed. “My patience is growing thin. You will come to me willingly tomorrow, or I will take you by force. You have one last night to come to your senses. You have been held by my men for thirty days. The Americans are not coming for you.”
He called out to the guards in Arabic, and the heavy door behind her suddenly swung open again. She felt thick fingers wrap around her upper arms as the guard yanked her backwards. She stumbled and then quickly regained her footing as she was marched off to the small room she was being held in.
One more day.
She had one more day to escape this hell hole before she was hurt.
She’d been taken prisoner over a month ago when they were ambushed, and although she’d been shocked that the guards hadn’t raped or assaulted her, she realized they’d been saving her for him—this jackass in the middle of the desert.
There was the ramshackle camp hidden near their base where she’d first been held. The other camps she’d been moved to—a day here, a couple of days there. And now this goddamn compound.
She refused to let him have her. To wait around for the American military to come to her rescue.
The guard opened the door to the dark room they’d been holding her in, shoving her inside. His hand briefly grazed over her breast, and she shuddered, not certain that it had been accidental.
A beat passed as she held her breath, and then he was leaving. Slamming the door shut behind him. She heard the heavy locks click on the door.
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding. The air was dusty and dry even inside this building. Emily took another breath, trying to steady her racing pulse.
She was escaping before tomorrow night. She didn’t know how or when, but she’d escape or die trying.
Chapter 2
RYKER TOOK A SIP OF his steaming black coffee from the deck of the beach house, his gaze scanning the horizon. The hot liquid burned down his throat, and he looked at the waves crashing on the shore. His other teammates were milling about inside with their women, and he frowned.
The glass door slid open a moment later, and Jacob “Joker” Olson walked out, drink in hand. “Yo, Ryker. Jessica said brunch is almost ready.”
He grunted as he glanced back, eyeing his teammate.
“What’s up, Bulls Eye?” he asked, calling Ryker by his nickname. “Sad that your lady friend headed back to Blacksburg?”
Ryker smirked, thinking of the flirtatious blonde he’d spent the summer with. “Hell. She was a firecracker, but neither of us was looking for something long term,” he said with an easy shrug. “It was a good time, but it’s over. No harm, no foul.”
“Yeah. I was just busting your balls.”
“What the hell are they cooking in there that takes so long?” Ryker complained, glancing through the doors toward the kitchen.
“Not sure. Jess and some of the other women are handling the food. They shooed me right out of the kitchen. Bailey’s making some killer Bloody Mary’s though. You should go grab one.”
“God damn, I could get used to this kind of Sunday morning.”
Jacob guffawed. “Hell, couldn’t we all. Jess wanted one last hurrah before she starts teaching at her new school next week. And although she extended the rental of the beach house through the end of September, after that we can kiss this beauty goodbye.”
“Yeah. It would’ve been killer to hang out here this fall and enjoy the beach while the weather’s good, but without Michelle’s parents paying for it, I get it. The rent’s gotta be sky high.”
Jacob nodded. “It goes down a little after summer, but Jessica’s moving in with me when she has to leave the beach house.”
Ryker chuckled. “Hell. Her best friend and I fizzle out, and you’re planning happily ever after with a woman.”
“Hell yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I know a good thing when I see it. It took a hell of a lot of convincing her this summer, but now that she’s staying here in Virginia Beach, there’s no point in waiting around.”
Ryker smirked, glancing back out at the water.
“You looked awfully damn serious out here brooding alone.”
“Surprised you noticed,” Ryker quipped.
“Like I said, Jess kicked me out of the kitchen. It smells fantastic in there, but if she doesn’t want my help, I can take a hint. Maybe we’ll throw one last barbecue here where we man the grill. But apparently, the kitchen is her territory.”
“Women.” Ryker paused a beat and then eyed his teammate. “Did Mason tell you what I found the other day during training?”
Jacob nodded
. “The necklace. Surprised you still had it, man. We’ll find her. We can’t exactly go traipsing all over Afghanistan without any solid intel. We need a rescue operation, not a suicide mission.”
“It’s been a month,” Ryker said. “I don’t fucking like it.”
“You know as well as I do that a woman in harm’s way doesn’t sit well with any of us. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t been all over the news. She’s with State, right? I’m guessing they don’t know that. You’d think she’d be considered a high-value target and they’d be broadcasting videos of her all over the damn place.”
Ryker nodded, glancing over at the doors to the house. One of the women, Taylor, was walking toward them, gesturing for them to come inside. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I still have that damn necklace I found, and I can’t just sit around any longer and do nothing. I’ll talk to the CO on Monday and see if he has any updates.”
“You never know,” Jacob said, turning to the door. “You know as well as anyone that we could be wheels-up in hours.”
“Yeah. We just need the fucking intel,” Ryker muttered, following him inside.
The other guys on his SEAL team and their girlfriends were gathered around the kitchen and dining area, grabbing food and drinks. “Hey, you want a Bloody Mary?” Bailey asked. Her eyebrow ring glinted in the light as she glanced over at him, and her boyfriend Noah “Viper” Miller sauntered over and slung his arm around her waist.
“Nah, not my drink,” Ryker said. “Thanks anyway.”
“Oh come on,” his other teammate Colton “C-4” Ferguson said, taking a sip. “It’s got alcohol. What’s not to like?”
His girlfriend Camila walked over with two plates of food, handing one to Colton. “Some men like a stiff drink, no?” she asked in her Colombian accent.
Bailey grinned at them. “I’ll make you something stronger. Let me check and see what Jessica has here. I think Michelle bought some....” Her voice trailed off as she mentioned the woman Ryker had previously been seeing.
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