Her Faithful Protector: A Navy SEAL Romance (Night Storm Book 6)

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  Holy shit!

  14

  Every single young man in the group now had their hands zip-tied behind their backs, and zip ties around their ankles. El Jefe was having a grand old time. When he was done, he sat down beside Lisa. Once again, Lisa had that dead man’s stare. She was looking at something miles away that nobody else could see as El Jefe draped his arm casually around her neck, then pressed her body in close to his.

  “Maria, which one of these pretty girls would you like to have as your human shield to get the fuck out of here?” El Jefe asked in Spanish.

  “I don’t know. Then they get to live longer. The others will go up in smoke when we blow the church.”

  It finally clicked for Camilla—that’s what the other man was doing as he ran around the perimeter of the church setting things down. He was setting charges.

  “Yes, but it will be an easy death. Our human shields will die hard, mi corazón.” He stroked the back of his fingers down Maria’s cheek. She leaned into the caress. Camilla thought she might vomit.

  “Are you choosing her?” Maria asked, pointing to Lisa.

  “I think I am,” he said with an oily smile. He pushed his thumbnail deep into the cut in Lisa’s arm and smiled wider at her moan of pain.

  Maria turned away from the pair and started to meander down the middle aisle of the church. She stopped in front of Camilla, then crouched down. “Oh, how are you, mi pequeña? How is your arm doing?” Maria tried to rip the cloth away from Camilla’s shoulder but she held on tight, refusing to let go.

  Maria slapped her across the face and Camilla lost her grip.

  Maria laughed when she saw the top of Camilla’s bruised breasts. “Somebody’s been having fun with you, how nice.” Then her avid glance turned to her bruised shoulder. She knocked her arm off the pew and Camilla cried out in agony.

  “This one is defective,” she said in Spanish to El Jefe. “Not her.”

  She got up and continued down the aisle.

  Even through her misery, Camilla could hear Roxanne’s pleading voice. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Camilla tried to stand up, tried to prove that she would be the better shield, but her legs just wouldn’t seem to work.

  “Shut up and come with me,” Maria said harshly.

  “No.” Roxanne was damn near hysterical.

  Camilla tried again to get to her feet. She clearly heard the slap. Roxanne let out a wail.

  I hate that bitch.

  There was loud scuffling and more pleading.

  “Stop!” a woman’s voice screeched.

  “What the fuck?” Maria yelled in Spanish. Something large slammed to the stone floor.

  Camilla shuddered in pain as she twisted her entire body so she could see behind her. She tried to comprehend what she was seeing. It looked like Maria was on the ground with Roxanne beside her. But Wendy and Phyllis were on top of Maria. Phyllis was sitting on Maria’s chest and had one hand smashed on top of Maria’s face; her other hand looked like she was trying to rip off her ear.

  “You’re sick!” Phyllis yelled into Maria’s face.

  Wendy was sitting on Maria’s knees, but even that didn’t stop the bitch from twisting and turning, trying to buck the two students off her.

  “Stay still,” Phyllis shrilled. Maria’s arm shot up and hit Phyllis in the jaw, knocking her sideways.

  A shot went off. Camilla jerked and saw El Jefe coming toward the melee with Lisa still clasped in one arm, his gun pointed up at the ceiling.

  “I’ll kill you bitches if you don’t get off Maria,” he hollered.

  Lisa started struggling. El Jefe went down onto one knee.

  Why had that happened?

  That’s when Camilla saw that Travis had rolled his body toward the group and he was kicking out as best he could toward the big man.

  Phyllis and Wendy were no longer on Maria. She was staring down at them, a knife in her fist. Roxanne was to the side, curled up in a ball next to the pew, trying to make herself look small.

  “Raoul, get over here!” El Jefe roared as he staggered to his feet. How in the hell he managed to still hold onto Lisa, Camilla would never be able to understand. When Raoul arrived, El Jefe motioned to the three women on the ground. “Pick one of these bitches up, we’re getting out of here.”

  “This one’s mine,” Maria said as she kicked Phyllis in the gut. She pulled her up by her arm and held her knife against her throat.

  “I choose this one,” Raoul said as he grabbed Roxanne up from the floor. Roxanne had no fight left in her; her body was limp and Raoul ended up lifting her into his arms. He walked past Maria toward El Jefe and the door. Travis’ feet shot out and connected with the side of his knees. Raoul went down like a sack of potatoes right into El Jefe. Now both men and the two women were on the ground, with Maria looking at them and laughing.

  “Bitch, quit laughing!” El Jefe’s face was turning purple. He pushed against Lisa’s chest to get to a sitting position.

  Camilla heard something that sounded like an explosion, from the back of the church. Were they all going to die now? She looked at Raoul; he must have hit his head hard against the side of one of the wooden pews and he was passed out, thank the good Lord. Unfortunately, Roxanne was underneath him and Camilla couldn’t tell what shape she was in.

  “Raoul is a goner, we need to get out of here,” Maria said as she tried to push Phyllis over Raoul’s body without having her trip. “Move, bitch,” she said as she shoved Phyllis forward toward El Jefe who was just getting to his feet.

  The only good thing that Camilla could think was that at least they were only going to take two of them as human shields, not three of them. El Jefe was staggering to his feet.

  “Where’s my gun?” he asked.

  Those were his last words before he was shot in the throat. Shocked eyes turned toward Lisa who was in a half-seated position, holding the gun in two hands, her eyes filled with rage. She started to change direction. Camilla knew that she was getting ready to point toward Maria, but that no good bitch kicked out hard and Lisa toppled over from the blow to the side of her head.

  Maria took one frantic look around the church, then stopped and stared at Lisa, her gaze murderous. She bent over Raoul and searched the pockets on his cargo pants. She wheezed frantically, then turned his unconscious body over, shoving her hands through the pockets of his vest. She grinned when she pulled some kind of device from his pockets, then she ran to the front doors of the church. She pushed up the bar that was keeping it locked. She took one last long look at the inhabitants, then slid out the door.

  The bitch had taken the detonator, Camilla was sure of it. They needed to get the hell out of there. She saw the knife on Raoul’s belt; they needed it to get the ties off the boys, but there was no way she could be the one to do that. Looking around she saw that Lisa had gone into shock again, so not her. Phyllis was still on the floor with her hand on her mouth.

  “Wendy!” Camilla yelled at the girl. “Grab that guy’s knife and start cutting the boys loose. Start with Travis.”

  The girl didn’t move.

  A dark shadow appeared over her. Camilla let out a shriek.

  “Ma’am, it’s me. Asher Thorne, with the US Navy. We’re getting you out of here.”

  “There’s a bomb. We need to get out of here fast. The boys are all zip-tied.”

  Another man stood beside Asher, his eyes assessing. Then he was gone.

  “Where’s the bomb, do you know?” Asher asked.

  Her arms hurt too much so she couldn’t point. She tilted her chin toward the left side of the church. “Along that wall, all the way up to the Sanctuary.”

  “Got it.” Asher left.

  Maybe they wouldn’t die after all.

  Nic went in and swept the room, then stopped dead. They had not trained him for this in SEAL school. He looked at the young girl standing behind a wobbly table, using it to help hold up a gun that looked as big as she was. It was pointed directly at him. T
he safety wasn’t on. Her little face was wet with tears, but her expression was angry and determined. Beside her was a toddler, the kid sitting on the floor in a cloth diaper, looking up at him, lost and confused.

  Nic made a split-second decision. He shoved off his night goggles and laid down his rifle, then held up his hands. Somehow, he was going to have to show the girl that he was a trustworthy man.

  Nic’s Spanish was only so-so.

  “Leo,” he said softly. “I need you to have my back on this one, man.”

  “Jesus, son. You’ve gone and done it now.” Nic knew that Leo had peeked around the corner.

  “Help me talk her down,” he said in English using his gentlest voice, not wanting to do anything to upset the girl or the baby. He felt like he was on the world’s highest tightrope. Where had she gotten the gun? Oh, fuck that, who cared?

  Nic stayed crouched where he was and smiled like he would at Mimi. “Hello, pretty girl. My name is Nic. What is yours?” he asked in Spanish.

  She didn’t move a muscle, she just continued to stare at him.

  “Honey, where is your mother?”

  She jerked as if he had slapped her, her brows lowered and her eyes spit fire. She stiffened her shoulders and clutched the gun tighter. Okay, so mentioning her mom was a bad thing. Dammit, he had to get her to talk.

  “What can I do to help you?” Nic asked gently in his lackluster Spanish.

  “Go away,” the girl said.

  He looked over the pistol she was holding. It was a standard Glock 357; where in the hell did she get that? He couldn’t leave her alone with that.

  “Leo, I need to get the gun away from her, she’ll hurt herself with it,” he said in English. The girl couldn’t be more than ten years old. Her little arms were trembling as she tried to hold the gun up, even with the help of the table.

  “Nic, just do what the hell she says. Back up and leave. It’s a no-win situation.”

  He didn’t say anything, just watched the girl as she continued to glower at him with rage, but behind that was a shit-ton of panic and fear.

  The baby started to babble and reach up its arms.

  “Hush,” the girl said in Spanish.

  The baby’s babbling turned more urgent, and he or she rocked over so that it was closer to the girl, now grabbing at her leg.

  “No, Theresa. Be a good baby,” the girl said frantically as she looked down.

  The baby turned her attention to the table leg and lunged for that. Nic made his move before there was a chance for catastrophe. In two long steps, he was at the table and plucking the gun out of the girl’s hands.

  “Nooooooooo,” the girl wailed.

  Nic heard shots.

  “Got one,” Max said over the comm.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Nic crooned in Spanish to the thrashing girl. “You won’t be hurt.” He looked up at Leo who had the baby in his arms. “Tell her, Leo.”

  Leo crouched down and started talking to the girl in rapid Spanish. She responded, then he got up and flung back the sheet that separated the back of the little house from the front. Nic cursed to himself when he saw the dead woman lying on the bed.

  The little girl looked at her mother and started sobbing.

  “I’ve got one,” Kane said, “and the rest of the houses are clear.”

  “We need a village woman over in this house, now,” Nic said into his mic. “Can you help us out?”

  He waited as he attempted to soothe the little girl in his arms.

  “Honey, it’s going to be okay,” he said as he stroked her hair. She just sobbed louder. Who in the hell could blame her? Her dad and mom were both dead. In her mind, her world had ended.

  Nic turned when a haggard woman rushed forward and started speaking calmly in Spanish. She rushed Leo, trying to take the baby out of his arms. Leo and the woman seemed to be arguing, then she turned to Nic and she fell to her knees in front of him.

  “Give her to me,” she said slowly enough in Spanish for Nic to understand.

  He released the little girl into the waiting woman’s arms. The little girl fell against the woman and sobbed.

  15

  “We need to get the hell out of here now,” a man in a military uniform said to the group. He was wearing camouflage paint all over his face.

  Camilla looked up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor. She was hazy with pain, still trying to grasp the fact that they might just get out of this alive.

  “Raiden, start moving them out, I haven’t got this disarmed yet,” the man named Asher yelled from the front of the church.

  “We’re going out the front doors. Raise your hand if you need help walking,” the first military man said.

  Camilla snorted. Hell, even raising her left hand at this point was going to be almost impossible, but she’d try.

  “I’ve got you, Doctor Ross,” Travis knelt down beside her.

  “If you can help, pair up with anyone who has their hand raised. If you can’t help, just haul your ass out the front door.” As Camilla peeked around Travis she saw the man gently pick up Lisa.

  “I can carry you too, Doctor,” Travis said to her.

  “I can walk. I don’t want to slow you down. That way you can come back and help others,” Camilla said as he helped her to her feet. The cloth fell away. Of course, it did, but she was past the point of caring. All she cared about was everybody getting out of here alive.

  The first step she took with Travis’ help hurt like hell. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could—anything to get out of the church so that Travis could go back inside and help others.

  “Thanks, man,” Travis said to Brian who was holding the church door open. He helped her down the steps.

  Ahead of them, a man yelled, “Get as far as the satellite truck.” She looked up and saw that it was Raiden, who was setting Lisa down so she could rest against the wheel of the truck. Paul and Jan had stopped at the bottom of the stairs but now they started to move again. She didn’t see any of the other students.

  “Where are the others?” she asked Travis as Raiden ran past them to go back into the church.

  “Don’t worry, they’re coming.” He positioned Camilla down next to Lisa and handed her the cloth he’d been holding. “I’ve got to go.” Camilla watched as he ran back into the church, passing Jan and Paul. And Wendy, who was hobbling down the steps under her own steam.

  She heard something off to the side, like running footsteps, and her gut clenched. She wanted to sob; here she’d thought they were safe, but now more men were coming to get them.

  In the weak light of morning, she stared in horror as she counted at least five men running toward them. Wait, were there more? Six? Seven?

  She tried to make herself smaller when she saw two of them break off from the pack and run straight at her and Lisa. Oh God, just when I thought we were safe.

  One of them skidded to a halt in front of her, the other one bent over Lisa. She reared back at the terrifying sight he made, his face covered with smears of black paint. “Ma’am, are you all right? Where are you injured? My name is Cullen Lyons with the US Navy, we’re here to help you.” Finally, she understood he was wearing some sort of disguise. He was a good guy. He was an American.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  She couldn’t answer. No words would come out. When she finally did open her mouth, all that came out was a sob. She bit it back and somehow composed herself, but she still couldn’t manage to say a word.

  He knelt down. “Ma’am?” He carefully pulled the cloth out of her clutched fingers and gently draped it around her body, his hands resting soothingly on her shoulders. That simple act of kindness broke through her wall of self-defense, and another sob escaped. And another. And another.

  Even though he was still giving her comfort, he tilted his head like he was listening to something.

  Camilla was somehow able to look past him and saw three more men carrying Phyllis, R
oxanne, and Leslie.

  Beside her, the man leaning over Lisa was talking to her softly. She seemed to be listening, but that was all.

  “She’s hurt,” Camilla told him now that she was pulling herself together. “They cut her arm three days ago and I think it’s still bleeding.”

  “We’ll have our medic look at it.” The man smiled at her.

  “And you,” Cullen said to Camilla. “We’ll have the medic look at you too.”

  “What about the church?” Camilla asked. “A man set explosives.”

  “We got word that they’ve been disarmed,” Cullen said soothingly.

  “Huh?” That didn’t make any sense. She knew Asher was inside trying to disarm them, but how would Cullen know?

  He tapped a device around his neck. “Our communication system. Asher told us that he disabled the bomb.”

  “Where is she?” a man’s voice roared from the top of the church’s steps. He sounded frantic.

  “Cami!” He yelled even louder.

  She watched in amazement as he pounded down the steps and stood in the middle of the group of students. Camilla peered around Cullen and looked at the huge man. Power emanated off him as he looked from one student to the other.

  “Cami, talk to me,” his roaring voice sounded desperate. “It’s me, Nic.”

  Nic?

  Her Nic?

  Camilla leaned farther, trying to see him, desperate to get a better look at him, but she couldn’t tell if he was Nic Hale, not with all that paint on his face.

  “Cami!”

  That voice.

  “Nic?” she whispered.

  He whirled around. Hazel eyes lasered in on her face.

  What little strength she had left deserted her, she slumped into Cullen, and he caught her. Nic came skidding to her on his knees. He thrust Cullen out of the way and pulled her into his arms.

  “Cami. I’ve got you, baby.”

  She stared up at a face she didn’t recognize, but clung to his voice and fell into his eyes. How was this even possible? She had to be hallucinating. Nothing this wonderful could be happening.