Mission Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  MISSION PARADISE

  ZUMA SEALS

  BOOK 2

  DEBORAH BROWN

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all materials in this book.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Mission Paradise

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2018 Deborah Brown

  Kindle Edition

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Contents

  Books by Deborah Brown

  MISSION PARADISE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  About the Author

  Books by Deborah Brown

  ZUMA SEALS SERIES

  Malibu Hills Murder

  Mission Paradise

  One for the Team

  PARADISE SERIES

  Crazy in Paradise

  Deception in Paradise

  Trouble in Paradise

  Murder in Paradise

  Greed in Paradise

  Revenge in Paradise

  Kidnapped in Paradise

  Swindled in Paradise

  Executed in Paradise

  Hurricane in Paradise

  Lottery in Paradise

  Ambushed in Paradise

  Starfish Island – A standalone romance

  MISSION

  PARADISE

  Chapter One

  Cable Bears and Slice hadn’t expected to be standing beside their leader, Zach Lazarro, at the grave of Nick Belmont on that wet and windy morning in September. But Nick would have expected them to be there, and so they stood, the three men from Zuma SEALs Investigations, resplendent in their Navy Whites, motionless as the Arlington, Virginia wind whipped around their ramrod-straight backs and Zach called one last salute for their fallen comrade-in-arms.

  “Detail, ten-hut.” The movement was swift and smooth, practiced and drilled a million times over. “Detail, dis-missed.” They turned as one and took a slow, measured pace away from the white wooden cross that marked Nick’s last resting place. “At ease, guys,” Zach said. “Done is done.”

  The gentle, lush green slopes of Arlington Cemetery glittered in the rain. The headstones –– row upon row of stone and marble, a few flat markers mixed in — stretched left and right as far as the eye could see. The three men turned back to Nick’s grave, each of them lost in his own thoughts.

  Cable broke the silence. “Never thought a roadside bomb would get Nick. He was always so careful, you know? The kind of guy who could eat, sleep, and tiptoe through a minefield and walk away without a scratch.” He let out a chuckle at the irony, but the deep booming sound stuck in his throat.

  Standing on either side of him, Zach and Slice nodded, remembering Nick. Zach turned and looked at Cable. The three-hundred-pound giant of a man, whose grandmother would have described him as being built like a brick outhouse, would be anyone’s first choice to guard their back. “Four tours of duty is a hell of a lot. The crazy bastard just couldn’t stop re-upping. Guess his luck had to run out sometime, huh?”

  Slice, who had stopped using his birth name shortly after entering the Navy, hunched his shoulders over his six-foot build. The jagged scar that ran from his forehead to his collarbone was tinged blue from the freezing weather, his blond hair swirling in the squall of rain at his back. “Hell with this weather,” he mumbled, then moved around and squeezed his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame in between Cable and Zach, unashamed about using his buddies as windbreaks.

  “Luck runs out for all of us eventually,” Zach said, and this simple wisdom seemed to be everything that needed to be said. As one, they began the recitation that had been passed down from… where? No one actually knew, but they said it anyway, the three men in chorus, three former SEALs in unified homage to the man in the ground. “The mourning period is over almost before it begins. For we warriors do not mourn our dead comrades; we celebrate them with wine, women, and song, or the equivalent thereof.” Zach swiped at his jet-black hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes.

  “Amen to that,” Slice said.

  “Come on, guys, back to the hotel. We have time for a couple of beers before our plane takes off.” Zach turned and led the way on the long walk between the headstones back to the imposing, cast-iron gates of the cemetery. It wasn’t until they reached the rental sedan in the parking lot that they felt it okay to speak again.

  “What are we going to do about Nick’s sister?” Cable huffed, squeezing his giant frame into the back seat.

  “We’ll find her. We have to. We owe it to Nick.” Zach hunted for the ignition key in his uniform pockets.

  Slice jumped into the passenger seat beside Zach. “We’ll find her. But it’s damned strange, don’t you think? Rissa disappearing like that, just before her brother gets wiped out on a godforsaken dirt track in Afghanistan?”

  “I thought the same thing,” Zach said, finally finding the key in his inside breast pocket and slipping it into the ignition. “You think the two incidents are connected?”

  “Hell no.” Slice paused, his blue eyes piercing his friend. “Why, is that what you think?”

  “Nope,” Zach said flatly, killing the budding theory dead in its tracks. He turned the key and gunned the engine to life. “Navigate, Slice. I don’t trust this GPS BS. I’m an old-fashioned kinda guy.”

  “Boss, it’s the same way we came, only in reverse,” Slice pronounced as though it were a no-brainer. “Turn right at the exit, then left at the Pentagon, cross the Potomac River, and then take another left on 14th Street to the hotel.”

  “Is that so?” Zach said with a smile. He drove to the cemetery’s exit, waited for a gap in traffic, and turned left.

  “Whoa, Boss! I said right at the exit! We’re going the wrong way,” Slice exclaimed, popping open the glove compartment and searching for the tourist map that came with the rent-a-car.

  “I know. I just thought we should brush up on your map-reading skills. You have fifteen minutes to get us back to the hotel.” Zach smirked. “Or you’re buying drinks.”

  Traffic was heavy, and Zach had to hit the horn twice at kamikaze cyclists who flicked him the finger without looking around. They drove into the hotel parking lot twenty-two minutes after they left Arlington.

  “Failed,” Zach declared, checking his watch.

  Slice screwed up his face in disgust. He was about to protest when Cable piped up from the back seat.

  “You know, if you’d asked the Native American, we’d have been here ten minutes ago. Even without the map.” Cable often boasted about his heritage: two-thirds Apache and one-third whatever he made up in the moment.

  “Yeah, yeah, and how’s that, Geronimo? The clouds giving you directions now?” Slice turned in his seat to taunt the big man behind him.

  “Clouds, not so much,” Cable answered, stone-faced. “Road signs.”

  “What?�
�� Slice looked confused.

  “You missed a sign when we crossed the river. It had the name of the hotel on it. And a big arrow,” Cable said with a small smile on his lips.

  “And you never said anything?” Slice asked in annoyance.

  “I figure you pathfinder, maybe you know shortcut,” Cable said, laying on the fake accent.

  Slice was just about to launch into a tirade when Zach interrupted. “Ten o’clock,” he announced. “Too early for a beer?”

  “Hell no.” Slice turned in his seat, completely forgetting his altercation with Cable. Any mention of beer could do that to Slice. “Sun’s over the yardarm somewhere, Boss.”

  “Big man thirsty,” Cable barked from the back seat.

  “Maybe we should get changed first,” Zach suggested. “Don’t want to mess up the dress uniforms.”

  Cable shook his head. “We drink a toast to Nick, we should do it in uniform.”

  After a moment’s thought, Zach said, “I agree.”

  They left the car and headed towards the hotel three abreast, almost in step. Heads turned as they entered the lobby –– crisp Navy White against the cold, gray, concrete backdrop of the nation’s capital –– and marched straight past the reception area and into the bar. The place had an atmosphere of stale beer and dust.

  “Gentlemen?” the bartender greeted them. He’d been busy polishing highball glasses when he looked up to see the three uniforms bearing down on him like a cavalry charge.

  “Beck’s,” Zach ordered. “Over there.” He pointed to a booth off the end of the bar. The trio sat, impatiently waiting for the beer to arrive. The barman brought the bottles, placed them in the middle of the table, and left without a word. Slice played host, pushing a beer to each man, then looked to Cable to make the toast.

  “To Nick,” Cable said simply, and the clink of bottles in the huge, empty barroom sounded fragile and clinically cold. They drained them in one thirsty gulp, then banged them back down on the table in the time-honored tradition of drinking to the dead.

  Slice signaled the bartender for another round. This time, they sipped the ice-cold beer as each of them waited for the others to speak.

  Eventually, it was Cable who spoke up. “So, where do we start?”

  “Same place we always start with a missing persons case,” Zach said and took another sip of beer. “We canvas the neighborhood where Rissa lives, ask questions, show her picture around… Someone must have seen something.”

  The men were a long way from their base of operations, but with their background, they could do their jobs anywhere. In this case, however, they wouldn’t have to. Last anyone knew, Rissa lived in California, their home base.

  “You want me to hack her social media accounts?” Slice cracked his knuckles. As Head of Intelligence, he was ready to get started. He prided himself on being able to find people, no matter what rocks they hid under.

  Zach nodded. “But go easy. Rissa’s not just some client; she’s Nick’s sister. Keep it focused. I don’t want to hear about any meaningless sexting or any of that bullshit.”

  In the past, Slice had crossed the line with a female client. Women loved Slice, and he loved them in return, never saying no, but always leaving them in the end. He made a point of being upfront about his “no strings” policy. The man had walled off his emotions after the so-called love of his life had ground his heart up into unrecognizable pieces.

  “Concentrate on ex-boyfriends,” Zach went on. “Cyberbullying. Anything that would make her want to up and disappear like she did. Meanwhile, I’ll get Lark to do a standard background check. Financial records, school reports, any possible misdemeanors. Cable, you got anything to add?”

  “Not much.” Cable reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter he had received from Nick two weeks before. He opened it and reread it for the hundredth time. “Just says he was worried about his sister, hadn’t heard from her in over a month. Unusual, ’cuz they’d been exchanging weekly emails since their father died. And then suddenly nothing. Nick tried to call, left messages, wrote letters, but got zilch back. He says it was like she just vanished off the face of the earth. He had no idea why. Far as he knew, she wasn’t in any trouble or anything like that.”

  He paused and took a swallow of his beer, then continued. “And then he was killed two days after I got the letter. It’s a bad omen, Boss; I can smell it on the wind. Rissa is in trouble, and we have to find her…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, silence descended upon the table.

  “How freaking ironic is that?” Slice said eventually in a voice like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He helped himself to another beer. The bartender had gotten the message to keep them coming until otherwise instructed. “Blown to bits on assignment just two days after he reached out to Cable for help. Man, that sucks.”

  “He was thinking about his sister when it happened.” Zach said it as if it were an undeniable fact, and the others nodded in agreement.

  The three went quiet. After a few minutes, their attention was drawn to a woman on the sidewalk outside. She’d stopped to admire herself in the plate glass window of the hotel bar. It was obvious from the way she pursed her lips and tousled her hair that she couldn’t see in and was completely unaware of being observed.

  Zach guessed her age to be around twenty. She was smartly dressed in a white blouse, tight black pencil skirt, and matching blazer. A bit skinny for his tastes, she had short-cropped blond hair that reminded him of an actress he had seen on TV a few nights ago… Gwyneth something or other.

  “I got ten dollars says she touches her breasts.” Slice reached into his back pocket and took out a bill.

  “I’ll go for that,” Zach said, reaching for his wallet. “And I got another ten says she touches more than her breasts.”

  They watched the woman swing her hips, blow her reflection a tiny kiss, straighten a stocking seam, and brush imaginary lint from her shoulders. Then, to Slice’s delight, she cupped her breasts in the palms of her hands and pushed her cleavage together.

  “That ten is mine!” Slice laughed and reached for the money on the table.

  Zach slammed his hand down across the cash. “Wait for it, buddy. Keep watching.”

  The woman outside seemed pleased with her appearance; she smiled and even winked at her reflection. Then, looking hastily from left to right, she put the flat of her hand on her stomach, sliding it down to press hard against the fabric of her skirt. From the look on her face, she was obviously enjoying herself. The three men stared in silence as the woman repeated the movement, easing off and then pressing down again and again. She was on a busy street with people rushing by, not giving her a second glance, totally oblivious to what she was doing. And then she was gone, hurrying away and soon lost in the mass of faceless pedestrians.

  “Wow…” Slice said softly and whistled through his teeth. “That was a hot show. How the hell did you know she’d do that, Boss?”

  “She had… that look…” Zach said casually, as if he’d just pulled off a magic trick but was too modest to accept praise from his audience. He took his twenty and Slice’s two tens and slid them into his wallet. “What’s up, big fella, didn’t you want a piece of the action?” Zach said to Cable, only now noticing that the big man had been silent the entire time they were watching the woman.

  Without speaking, Cable reached into his pocket again; this time, he pulled out a photograph. He placed it on the table, and Zach saw it was a recent picture of Rissa. The resemblance to the woman outside was vague, but close enough to make Cable’s point. Rissa could be anywhere, and she could be in danger. This was no time for silly games.

  “Our flight back to Los Angeles is in two hours,” Zach said. “Drink up. We have a lot of work to do.”

  They finished their beer with a new sense of urgency and marched back through the lobby to the elevator. While they waited, Zach could feel the air of intention around them, and it reminded him of the missions they’d undertaken
during their military careers. His team was ready to go, and there was no doubt in his mind that they would do whatever needed to be done. Somewhere out there was a young woman who needed their help, but it was more complex than that. The sister of a fallen comrade was considered the same as family. For Zach and Slice and Cable, finding Rissa had become a question of honor.

  Chapter Two

  Frustrated, Rissa Belmont lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her tiny bedroom in a garage apartment in Venice. Thoughts of York brought a dreamy smile to her face. He’d laughed when she told him she was still a virgin, and she suspected that he still didn’t quite believe that a twenty-one-year-old woman with her looks could have gone so long without getting laid. But she would prove it, show him that he was her first, and he would apologize and fall even deeper in love with her.

  York was different, all right; actually, a little weird, but that was exactly why Rissa felt such a strong bond with this man she’d never met. They were both loners at heart, and Rissa had never had any real friends she could confide in. She loved her brother, of course, but he had gone away to the military and Rissa had grown up alone. Her head bounced off the pillow as she remembered that she’d forgotten to give her brother her new phone number and address, too caught up in moving and learning how to use the new phone York insisted she use.

  When she met York in an online chat room, he’d taken her little girlie world by storm and turned her entire outlook on life upside down. She remembered being shocked the first time he started using sexually explicit language and how she had angrily clicked him off, ending the webcam session instantly and storming off to take a shower to cool down. Yet she couldn’t get the man out of her head; he seemed to follow her and consume her thoughts. When she got out of the shower, she found he’d left a message, apologizing and telling her sternly that she was the woman he’d been looking for to complete his life and he wasn’t letting her go.