SEAL Together

by Maryann Jordan

  Nodding, Chris said, “Okay. Got it. Once we get to Denver, while you’re finding out what’s going on, I’ll be back in touch with Josh and Clay to see if they’ve got new intel and where they’re going.” He started leaning back in his seat, but then jerked back forward, looking at him. “And, boss? Silas was right. You’re the right man for the job, and we’ve got this.”

  Lydia’s body lurched forward but was held in place by a seatbelt and shoulder straps. Slowly wakening, she blinked heavy-lidded eyes, wondering about the strange dream she had had. Taking in her surroundings, she scrunched her brow, confused. Why am I in a plane? Where am I going?

  Her mouth was dry and as she tried to lift her head, she found she could barely move it. Her gaze landed on her hands in her lap, her wrists taped together. She stared at them, not understanding what was happening. After a moment, her memories started slowly moving back into her mind. Struggling with her wrists, her arm ached, and she winced. That’s right—I was drugged. Twice! That’s why my mouth is dry.

  As the plane lurched again, she looked in front of her frantically and saw a bag. Reaching out, she snagged it with difficulty, just in time to throw up.

  “Shit! Thank God I took that gag off!”

  As she retched into the bag, she tried to ignore the fear that was clawing at her throat. Leaning back, she had to lift both hands to wipe her mouth, then twisted to look at the man sitting beside her. She did not recognize him, other than knowing it was the man who had shown up at her house.

  “Why?” she croaked.

  He looked at her and the vomit-filled bag in her lap with disgust.” Shifting his gaze back up to her face, he shrugged, and said, “A job. You’re a means to an end.”

  Not having any idea what he meant, she leaned her head back, willing her stomach to settle as the plane finally lurched one more time and came to a stop. She wanted to ask where they were, but fear kept her quiet. As her still-fuzzy brain continued to slowly process what was going on, she remembered hearing the word Denver. Looking out the small window next to her, she saw a large airport to the right, but was unable to determine which one it was. Not knowing how long she had been unconscious didn’t help.

  She looked at the back of the pilot, but he never turned around to acknowledge her. Does he know what’s happening to me? Glancing back down at her taped wrists, she surmised the pilot must know something was going on and either was not going to help or, was in on it, as well.

  The pilot called several signals into his radio, then said to the man sitting next to her, “I’ve got to refuel and check the plane. There’s a bathroom inside the building. You want to get her in there and give her a break before we take off again?”

  “I’m in charge here, so don’t give me your advice.”

  “And I’m the pilot, and we don’t leave until I say we do. I don’t want her getting sick in my plane anymore. I agreed to fly, but I’m not going to torture her. Let her go to the bathroom, let her get cleaned up, and give her something to drink. After all, you’re supposed to deliver her alive. Sick or dead isn’t going to get you anything.”

  Her eyes widened at the pilot’s words, but she remained still. The man next to her grumbled, but he acquiesced. Turning toward her, he said, “There’s no one around except you, me, and the pilot. I’m gonna let you out, and we’re gonna walk to the bathroom. I’ll undo your hands, but I’m going to be right with you. Just do what you gotta do and we’ll be on our way.”

  Still uncertain, she nodded. He climbed out of the plane first, then turned around and assisted her down. She glanced around while walking toward the building, but he appeared to be correct. She did not see anyone else. Entering the small building, she saw an empty office and another door, but nothing else.

  He opened the door first and looked in. Turning toward her, he said, “There’s no window, so there’s nothing you can do except go to the bathroom. If you need to drink some water, slurp it out of the sink with your hands.”

  He cut the tape binding her wrists, and she immediately started to rub the soreness. Putting his hand between her shoulder blades, he gave her a little push. She stepped in and closed the door, locking it swiftly. Taking in the space, a toilet and sink were the only items in the small room. Quickly using the toilet, she washed her hands and did as he suggested, slurping some water to rinse her mouth before drinking. Splashing her face with cold water helped to center her focus.

  She glanced around but he had been right…there was no way out. He banged on the door, and she opened it, understanding that escape, at this point, was not likely. As they stepped out of the building, she felt a hard object at her back and his hot breath at her ear.

  “You make a sound, Doc, and you’re dead. Don’t push me on this. Now walk straight to the plane and get back in.”

  She began to shiver, uncertain if it were the effects of the drugs he had given her, adrenaline, or fear. As she felt a tear slide down her cheek, she figured it was a combination of all three.

  Climbing back into the plane, she begged, “Please don’t bind my wrists again. I’m inside the plane and can’t go anywhere. I don’t want to die, so I’m not going to try to fight you or the pilot.”

  It was the most she had said to him the entire time she had been in his presence, and she had no idea what he would say. Silently praying that he would agree, she was shocked when he gave a short nod.

  Once they were buckled in, the pilot climbed back into the cockpit, continuing to ignore her. She turned to look out her window, seeing the sun slowly sinking, casting shadows from the airport. Wondering where they were going and what was going to happen to her, her heart jumped when she heard the pilot radio to the tower that his destination was Seattle. Seattle? What are they going to do with me in Seattle? And why?

  23

  As soon the wheels touched down in Denver, Eric was already on the phone with Mace. “Please, God, tell me you’ve got some news.

  “It looks like Robert Edger has been using the money from Korea to fund Foundation for Liberating Animals activities, both legal and otherwise. It also looks like it’s been his sole source of income.”

  “Why was he going to take Dr. Hughley? As far as I know, his group just wants to disrupt and terrorize. Kidnapping her was not going to shut down the NBAF.”

  “I don’t know, Eric,” Mace said. “My educated guess is, somebody has been paying him to fund the FLA and is now holding that over his head in order to get him to do their dirty work. I’m going to have Josh send Chris all the information that we’ve been able to dig up. You can get it to DHS.”

  Thanking Mace profusely, he got off the phone and turned toward Chris. “You’re about to get an entire file from Josh. Forward it to Silas and Paul.”

  The Cessna coasted to a stop, and the pilot turned and looked back toward him. “I’m gonna refuel just in case we need to go somewhere else. As soon as you find out where we’re going, let me know, so I can file the report.”

  Nodding, his phone rang, and Eric looked at the caller ID, seeing Logan’s name listed. Picking up, he prompted, “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been keeping track of what’s going on at the Denver airport. A small, four-seater Cessna came in almost two hours ago. The time didn’t look right so I checked, and it looks like the pilot filed a false report. My guess is that he’s the one we’re looking for. He left an hour ago, headed to Seattle, Washington.”

  “Seattle? What the fuck?” During the flight, he had managed to keep his emotions from boiling over, but his normally calm, focused mind was on overload. He had never been in a position where the mission concerned somebody he cared deeply about. “Goddamnit,” he cursed. “Seattle can only mean one thing. They want to get her out of the country.”

  Logan agreed, saying, “That was my assessment too. I’m so sorry, man. But I’m going to coordinate getting everybody to Seattle. I’m coming there as well.”

  It took a second for Logan’s words to sink in, but when they did, he jolted. “What? You’re
coming?”

  “Already got my bird ready and kissed Vivian goodbye. I’ll be there about the same time that you will.”

  His heart squeezed and, this time, it was not thinking about Lydia. It was the knowledge that he had men—good men—who were joining his team for no other reason than just because they wanted to help. His voice choked, but he managed to get out, “Thanks, man. I’ve got no words. Just thanks.”

  “I’ve got your pilot’s information. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chris had heard the conversation, so as the pilot stuck his head back into the plane, he gave him the destination. As Eric disconnected from his call with Logan, the pilot looked at him and asked, “Seattle?” Seeing his nod, he said, “I’ll file the report. You best take a quick break now, ’cause we should be able to be in the air within ten minutes.”

  Rank was standing at the luggage claim area of the Los Angeles airport and, to the casual observer, he was nothing more than another Hollywood star or wannabe. Tall, muscular, sandy blond hair hanging to his shoulders, dressed in jeans, boots, and a T-shirt that stretched across his torso. He pushed his sunglasses up on his head and smiled widely as another man approached.

  Bart was so similar in size and appearance that, when they were SEALs together, people assumed they were brothers, if not twins. Bart’s hair was shorter, but to the casual observer, that was the only difference.

  They clasped hands then pulled each other in for a man hug, slaps on the back ensuing.

  “Good to see you again, Bart. Wish it was under better circumstances. I sure as hell hate to have broken up your second honeymoon with Faith.”

  Bart nodded, replying, “Good to see you, too. Don’t worry about the honeymoon. We were on our last day, and Faith was itching to get back to the kids. I just sent her on to Virginia and changed my ticket to head out here.” Grinning, he added, “I understand you and Helena are now engaged?”

  He nodded, smiling in return. “Couldn’t get a ring on her finger fast enough.”

  They headed out of the terminal and to his car, but instead of leaving the airport area, he drove them to the far edge of the field and through a guarded gate. On the drive over, he filled Bart in on what he knew. “Just got word they’re heading to Seattle. Eric’s assumption is that they may be trying to get Lydia out of the country.”

  “Do you think the kidnappers know they’ve got the wrong person yet?”

  “I don’t think so. If they did, I don’t think they’d keep going to Seattle. They’d probably…well, shit. You know, they’d probably kill her.”

  “Fuckin’, hell,” Bart breathed, rubbing his hand over his face.

  “Logan Bishop is flying his bird in from Montana. He’s going to meet us in Seattle.”

  “No shit? Preacher? Damn, we’re getting the whole team back together again. It’s the only good thing about this mess, but it makes me wonder why the hell we only get together when something happens to someone we care about. We gotta start visiting each other when it’s just kicking back and talking over the old days.”

  He nodded. “Don’t know how much our women want to hear about the old days, but you’re right. We really do need to get together more often.”

  He parked, and they alighted from his vehicle, both grabbing their bags on the way. Walking toward another plane, they shook hands with the pilot.

  “I’ve already filed our destination for Seattle,” the pilot said. “I’ll let you know that some bad weather is coming into that area. Strong winds and heavy rain. There’s the possibility that we might get diverted.”

  Rank rubbed his chin, and asked, “Is there any chance that the plane we’re chasing could get diverted as well? And how would we know?”

  “I’ve got the call sign for the plane that it appears they’re taking. If they get diverted, I’m gonna know about it.”

  Nodding, he said, “All right, we’re ready.” Looking over at Bart, he clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go do this.”

  Paul got on the phone and talked to his counterpart in Seattle. “Looks like the final destination is your city. Be ready to intercept the plane when it lands. Do everything you can to keep him from knowing what you’re doing so that Lydia Hughes is unharmed. There’s a DHS contract team on their way as well, but I’d rather everything be handled internally, if possible. I don’t care what happens to that maniac, Robert Edger, but we need to find out who he’s working for, so take him alive.”

  Lydia was leaning against the edge of her headrest, glad that her wrists were no longer bound but still feeling nauseous and slightly groggy from the effects of the drugs she had been given her.

  The face of her daughter came to mind, and she wondered how terrified Caroline would be when someone finally told her that her mother was missing. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she prayed that Caroline would find the strength to go on if this all ended badly.

  Eric moved through her mind, as well. They were so new. How many times would he call before he gives up on me because he hadn’t received an answer?

  The rain outside the plane had been splattering against the window for an hour, and she felt the jerking movement as wind gusts slammed into them. She wondered about any long-lasting effects from the drugs, but if they were going to kill her, what would it matter? If they were going to kill me, wouldn’t they have already done it? Why on earth kidnap me in the first place? Fear lapped at her again, and she shivered. Letting out a ragged breath, she crossed her arms tightly around her waist, praying for strength.

  Her musings were interrupted as the man sitting next to her barked out, “What do you mean, we can’t get there?”

  “Do you see the fuckin’ rain?” the pilot responded. “Can you feel how I have to fight to hold this plane steady? There’s a goddamn storm going on outside, and we’re not going to make it to Seattle!”

  “You can’t tell me they shut down the Seattle airport—”

  “I didn’t say they shut it down. I said we can’t make it. This isn’t a fucksing Boeing 737. This size aircraft can’t fly in the same weather that a jet can. I’m looking to see where I can land. We’re close to Portland, so that’ll have to do.”

  “I’m expected in Seattle,” her captor said, his voice now sounding whiny.

  “Then when we land in Portland, you can just tell whoever you were supposed to meet that we didn’t make it. Once the storm ends, we can leave Portland and fly to Seattle, but I’m not doing that until it’s safe. Hell, the airport wouldn’t let us leave anyway until the storm passes.”

  She remained quiet during the argument, keeping her head in the same position it had been, but slanting her eyes to the side. She watched her kidnapper as he rubbed his hands together, apparently nervous, and she assumed he was trying to figure out what to do. The swaying movement of the plane worsened her nausea, but she tried to force her thoughts to what she might accomplish once they landed in Portland.

  Maybe I can run. Maybe they’ll fall asleep and I can get away. Maybe we’ll be close to other people, and I can alert them to what’s happening.

  Feeling slightly better at the possibilities, she shifted her legs, her body stiff and aching. She could feel the kidnapper’s eyes on her, so she only moved enough to get more comfortable. His temper seemed rather volatile, and she did not want to engage him in conversation again, so she kept her eyes toward the window.

  He mumbled, “More trouble than you’re worth, Doc.”

  She wondered why he continued to refer to her as ‘Doc’, but considered that was more impersonal than using her actual name. As the pilot began the plane’s descent, she stopped wondering the whys of anything that had happened to her and focused on not throwing up again as the winds rocked the plane.

  24

  “We’re not gonna make it to Seattle,” Eric’s pilot called back.

  His heart sunk, his fears coming to light. He had been watching the storm increase as the winds and rain beat against the small plane and was afraid that they might not make it.


  “But if we can’t, that means they can’t either,” the pilot added.

  “Where are we? Where can we get to? Better yet, where do you think they are?”

  “Portland. It looks like most small planes are being sent to Portland. I’m radioing my contact to see if he can locate the plane that Lydia was on. If they’re stranded in Portland, we can get to them. Hell, we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  Eric’s mind quickly recalculated what needed to be done. Giving the pilot the information for Rank and Bart’s plane, as well as Logan’s helicopter, he said, “I need you to let them know to divert to Portland.”

  He listened as the pilot followed his instructions and then began their descent. Looking over at Chris, he noted the young man’s hair standing on end, his hand having run through it more than usual. Chris’ face showed fatigue, and his normally wired energy was subdued. He almost chuckled, thinking that if he looked in a mirror himself, he would appear very similar.

  The landing was rough considering the wind gusts, but the pilot handled the aircraft like an expert, and they were soon taxiing to a small hangar.

  “I’ve contacted my DHS supervisor,” the pilot said. “Immigration and Customs was on the alert in Seattle, and it appears that the ones here in Portland have just been notified.”

  Eric’s chest tightened once more, and he growled, “So, with the delay, Robert could’ve slipped through their blockade.”

  Once inside the hangar, he and Chris alighted from the aircraft. His eyes immediately landed on the two large men stalking toward him, their faces tense. Throwing his hand out, he reached the first one, and said, “Bart, no words, man. Just my eternal thanks.”

  Bart pulled him in for a hug, then stepped back allowing the same for Rank. Turning, he introduced them to Chris, and then his eyes alighted on another man walking from the back. Muscular as well, Logan had more sinewy leanness than bulk. His dark hair was longer than he remembered, his face more lined. And yet, even in the tense situation, he saw ease in all three men. The women in their lives had to be the reason. When he got Lydia back maybe, one day, he would exude that same peace.