by Elle James
His life is dedicated to the SEALs.
His heart is dedicated to her.
Their mission was clear: do not engage! But when his SEAL team is ambushed, “Big Jake” Schuler sacrifices his safety to draw the terrorists away from his unit. When village missionary teacher Alexandria Parker runs right into Jake’s arms, they must hide together in the wild hills of Niger, causing Jake to discover that Alex is as tough as she is beautiful. This mission he’ll engage with feelings he thought he buried a lifetime ago.
Mission: Six
“The shirt has to go.”
Heat seared a path through her, heading south to her core. “It’ll have to do for now. I don’t have another.”
Jake stepped back. “You can have mine.”
When Alex turned to face him, a protest on her lips, she stopped, her thoughts flying out of her head as Jake unclipped the fasteners on his vest and lowered it to the ground.
Her mouth went dry and her palms filled with sweat. “What are you doing?”
He smiled. “Giving you my shirt. Granted, it might be a little sweaty, but it will be better than what you have on.”
He unbuttoned his uniform jacket and slipped out of it. Then he yanked his T-shirt up over his head in one fluid, ever-so-sexy move.
FIVE WAYS TO
SURRENDER
New York Times Bestselling Author
Elle James
Elle James, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at [email protected] or ellejames.com.
Books by Elle James
Harlequin Intrigue
Mission: Six
One Intrepid SEAL
Two Dauntless Hearts
Three Courageous Words
Four Relentless Days
Five Ways to Surrender
Ballistic Cowboys
Hot Combat
Hot Target
Hot Zone
Hot Velocity
SEAL of My Own
Navy SEAL Survival
Navy SEAL Captive
Navy SEAL to Die For
Navy SEAL Six Pack
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
“Big Jake” Schuler—US Navy SEAL, demolitions expert. Big guy with a big heart he’s afraid to give to any one woman. His job as a SEAL is his life.
Alexandria “Alex” Parker—Teacher living with a missionary family. She came for the adventure and to teach village children and orphans.
Abu Nuru Al-Wakesa—Leader of the Islamic State faction in Niger.
Fariji—A tall young man, eager to learn. Alex’s teaching assistant at the orphanage.
Quinten Philburn—CEO of Snyder Mining Enterprises, a corporation based in the US but owned by an offshore entity.
Aaron Brightbill—US ambassador to Niger.
Thomas Whitley—Executive officer to the US ambassador to Niger.
Reverend Daniel Townsend—Elderly missionary on his last mission trip to Africa. Determined to help the poor and desperate people of Niger.
Martha Townsend—The reverend’s wife of forty years. Works alongside her husband. Helps teach the women of the village life skills to grow food and keep their families healthy.
“Buck” Graham Bucker—US Navy SEAL, team medic. Went to medical school but didn’t finish. Joined the Navy and became a SEAL.
“Diesel” Dalton Samuel Landon—US Navy SEAL. Gunner and team lead.
“Pitbull” Percy Taylor—US Navy SEAL. Tough guy who doesn’t date much. Raised by a taciturn marine father. Lives by the rules and structure. SOC-R boat captain.
“Harm” Harmon Payne—US Navy SEAL. For a big guy, he’s light on his feet and fast. Good at silent entry into buildings.
“T-Mac” Trace McGuire—US Navy SEAL, communications man, equipment expert.
To my daughters for being such strong young women and for joining me on many of my writing adventures. Thank you for helping brainstorm my stories and for assisting me at conferences. You know I love you so very much!
Contents
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Excerpt from Bulletproof Christmas by Barb Han
Chapter One
Sweat dripped from beneath navy SEAL “Big Jake” Schuler’s helmet, down his forehead and into his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe away the salty liquid, blinking to clear his vision.
Their local informant stood at the village entrance, in the Tillabéri region of Niger, talking to a barefoot man dressed in long dusty black pants and a worn button-down gray shirt. They had their heads together and appeared to be talking fast. Several times, the men glanced in the SEAL team’s direction.
“What’s Dubaku doing?” Jake asked into his mic.
“He’s only supposed to be checking that the village is clear, before we move on,” Harmon “Harm” Payne said. “You heard the brief. We’re on a recon mission. We’re not to engage.”
Military Intelligence had gotten wind that Abu Nuru al-Waseka, the head of the ISIS faction in north central Africa, had been seen in one of the villages farther up the road.
With what little they knew, Jake’s SEAL team had deployed from their base of operations in Djibouti to Niger. From there, they hooked up with Dubaku, a member of the Niger Army who had connections with villagers along their route. Their contact had been known to help the army Special Forces unit positioned there to train the Niger armed forces. He was supposed to be a trusted source.
A prickly feeling crawled across the back of Jake’s neck. “I don’t like how long he’s been standing there.”
Dubaku turned and pointed in Jake’s direction.
The man he’d been talking to nodded and reentered the small village, disappearing around the side of a hut.
Dubaku left the village and walked along the dusty road until he reached one of the SUVs they’d commandeered from the Special Forces units. The vehicle stood partially hidden in the branches of a group of scraggly trees.
The sun baked the land, making dust out of the soil. Every puff of wind stirred the fine grains of dirt into whirling dervishes.
Using the SUV for cover, Jake hurried to Dubaku. “What did you find out?”
“The villagers haven’t seen any strangers,” Dubaku said.
Jake studied the man.
Dubaku didn’t make eye contact. Instead, he alternated between staring at his feet and back at the village. “Ashiri went to ask others if they have seen anyone.” Dubaku gave a slight bow with his hands
pressed together. “If you will excuse me, I must relieve myself.”
That prickly feeling multiplied when Dubaku left the SUV, walked into the sparsely wooded landscape and disappeared.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Jake said. “Let’s move.”
Percy “Pitbull” Taylor leaned across the cab of the SUV and flung open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Jake shook his head, his gaze scanning the area and coming back to the village where Ashiri had disappeared. He gripped his rifle in his fists. “I’ll walk alongside until we’re past the village. I don’t trust Ashiri or Dubaku at this point.” Then he spoke into his mic. “Diesel, keep a safe distance between the vehicles.”
“Wilco.” Dalton “Diesel” Landon waited until Pitbull pulled several vehicle lengths ahead.
Graham “Buck” Buckner climbed out of Diesel’s vehicle and raised his M4A1 rifle at the ready.
Harm, already on the other side of Pitbull’s vehicle, moved forward as the SUV inched along at a slow, steady pace.
Buck and Trace “T-Mac” McGuire brought up the rear of Diesel’s SUV. Every SEAL on the ground had an M4A1 carbine rifle with the Special Operations Peculiar Modification (SOPMOD) upgrade. Pitbull and Diesel had their weapons in the SUVs, within easy reach.
At that moment, Jake wished he had an HK MP5 submachine gun with several fully loaded clips. That prickly feeling was getting worse by the minute. Jake didn’t see the normal congregation of women and children outside the huts. In fact, since they’d arrived outside the village, those people who had been hanging around had all disappeared.
“Let’s move a little faster,” Jake urged. “The village appears to be a ghost town.”
“Something’s up,” Harm agreed.
“I thought this was supposed to be a routine fact-finding mission,” T-Mac said.
“‘Don’t engage,’ they said.” Buck mimicked the intel officer who’d briefed them in Djibouti. “Well, what if they engage us first?”
“That’s when all bets are off.” Jake’s hold tightened on his rifle.
The lead vehicle had passed the village and was moving along the dirt road leading to the next village when an explosion ripped through the air.
“What the hell was that?” Diesel asked.
“We’ve got incoming!” Harm yelled. “Someone’s got an RPG and they’re targeting our vehicles.”
Another rocket hit the ground fifty yards from where Jake stood. He dropped to a squat and waited for the dust to clear.
When it did, he counted half a dozen men in black garb and turbans rushing toward him, firing AK-47s.
“They fired first,” Jake said, returning fire. “Six Tangos incoming from the west.” He took out two and kept firing.
“I count five from the east,” Harm said from the other side of the SUV. Sounds of gunfire filled the air.
“Got a truckload of them coming straight at us on the road,” Pitbull said.
“I count at least half a dozen comin’ at us from the rear,” T-Mac reported.
“We’re surrounded,” Buck said. “Use the SUVs for cover.”
The men rolled under the SUVs and fired from beneath.
“Guys, get out from under the lead vehicle!” Pitbull yelled. “They’re going to ram us!”
Jake rolled out from under and kept rolling, staying as low to the ground as he could, firing every time he came back to the prone position. He slipped into a slight depression in the hard-packed dirt and fired at the black-garbed men coming at him.
A loud bang sounded along with the screech of metal slamming into metal.
Giving only the fleetest of glances, Jake’s heart plummeted. The lead SUV had been knocked several feet back from where it had been standing. If Harm hadn’t made it out in time, he would have been crushed by the ramming enemy truck.
“Pitbull?” Jake held his breath, awaiting his friend’s response.
“I’m good,” Pitbull said. “Shaken, not stirred. I shot the truck driver before he hit.”
“Good. Everyone else,” Jake said, “sound off.”
In quick succession, the other four men reported in.
“Harm.”
“T-Mac.”
“Buck.”
“Diesel.”
A man leaped up from the ground and ran toward Jake.
The navy SEAL fired, cutting him down, only to have another man take his place and rush his position. He pulled the trigger. At the last minute, the attacker swerved right. The bullet nicked him, but didn’t slow him down.
Jake pulled the trigger again, only nothing happened. He pushed the release button, and the magazine dropped at the same time as he reached for another. Slamming the full magazine into the weapon, Jake fired point-blank as the man flung himself at Jake.
The bullet sailed right through the man’s chest, and he fell on top of Jake.
For a moment, Jake was crushed by the man’s weight. He couldn’t move and couldn’t free his hands to fire his weapon.
Gunfire blasted all around. Dust choked the air and made locating the enemy difficult at best.
Jake pushed aside the dead man and glanced around.
“They fell back,” Buck said. “But they’re regrouping.”
“Get in the rear SUV and get the hell out of here,” Jake said. “I’ll cover.”
Buck and T-Mac jumped into the rear SUV. Diesel revved the engine and raced up to the destroyed one.
The doors were flung open. “Get in,” Buck said.
Harm ran alongside the vehicle, refusing to get inside. Pitbull pulled himself into the front passenger seat.
The enemy soldiers raced to follow them.
Jake laid down suppressive fire, emptying a thirty-round magazine in seconds.
“We’re not leaving without you!” Harm yelled.
Jake shook his head and kept firing. “Get in the damned vehicle. I’ll remain on the ground and cover.”
Harm complied and the SUV moved forward, using the crashed SUV for cover.
Jake popped out the expended magazine and slammed in one of the last two he had.
The enemy soldiers either hit the ground when they caught a bullet, or dived low to avoid getting hit. Either way, Jake’s gunfire slowed their movement. But not for long. “Go!” he yelled, lurched to his feet and backed up to the enemy truck without letting up his suppressive fire against the oncoming threat. “You have to leave now. It’s the only way any of us are getting out of this alive.”
Jake flung open the door of the truck, dragged the dead driver out and climbed behind the steering wheel. He hung his rifle out the window and fired with his left hand. “I’ll head for the hills, head south, get to safety and come back when you have sufficient backup.” He started the engine and attempted to reverse. The front grill of the truck hung on the grill of the damaged SUV.
“I don’t like it,” Diesel said into Jake’s earpiece.
“You don’t have to,” Jake said. “Just go before I run out of bullets.”
Diesel pulled away in the SUV.
Jake fired again, laying down a barrage of bullets at the men advancing on his position. He ducked low as bullets hit the windshield and pinged off the metal frame of the truck. He shifted into Drive, hit the accelerator and slammed the SUV. Then he shoved the shift into Reverse and gunned the engine. The SUV dragged along with him for several feet until the front grill broke free.
Jake backed up fast and considered racing after the other SUV. But, already, another truck had appeared from the direction of the village. If he didn’t take out the oncoming vehicle, the rest of his team would gain little lead time on the enemy.
Shifting into Drive, Jake revved the engine and shifted his foot off the brake. The truck shot forward, plowing through the line of attackers, knocking some down and scattering the rest.
At the last moment, Jake grabbed his rifle, flung open the door and threw himself out of the truck. He hit the ground hard, tucked and somersaulted, his weapon pressed close to his chest.
The truck he’d been driving plowed into the other with the clash of metal on metal. Both vehicles shook and then settled, smoke and steam rising from the engines.
Jake didn’t wait around to see what the remaining jihadist would do. He jerked a smoke grenade from his vest, pulled the ring, tossed it behind him and then ran toward the only cover he had—the short, squat mud-and-stick huts of the village clustered against a bluff. He figured the enemy wouldn’t start looking for him there.
He prayed he was right. From the intel briefing they’d received, the ISIS faction was alive and well in the Tillabéri region of southwestern Niger and was known for the extreme torture tactics they used against their foes. He refused to be one of their victims. He’d die fighting rather than be captured. Surrender wasn’t an option.
* * *
REVEREND TOWNSEND BURST through the door of the makeshift schoolhouse, interrupting Alex’s reading lesson. “Alex, get the children out of the building. Now!”
Alexandria Parker’s heart leaped into her throat. “Why? What’s wrong?”
The reverend’s wrinkled face was tense, his hands shaking as he waved children toward the door. “Kamathi just came through the village and told everyone to get out. If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have known.”
Alex closed her reading book. “Why do we have to leave?”
“Al-Waseka is coming.”
Fear rippled through Alex. One of the men in the village had been captured by al-Waseka, the most notorious Islamic State leader in all of Niger. He had been beaten, whipped and burned in many places on his body. The only reason he’d survived was because they’d thrown his body off the back of a truck, presuming he was dead. He’d crawled under a bush and waited until his captors had left the area. Then he’d used what little energy he had remaining to wait near the road for the next friendly vehicle to pass. Fortunately, it had been the good reverend’s.
