Saved by the SEALs: A Military Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  But it didn’t matter. If there was a chance Karen was inside, we had to try. It was the least we owed her for dragging her into this mess.

  Fuck, I wished I hadn’t quit smoking.

  “Tighten it up,” Logan ordered as we crossed the street.

  I drew my P226 and held it at my side. Ready to use, but not super obvious to anyone watching from a distance. I would have been a fuckload more comfortable with my Colt M4A1, but we didn’t have the luxury of assault rifles for this. They would draw too much attention. We weren’t even supposed to be here.

  We moved along the side of the warehouse, fast and silent. Logan stopped when we reached a ladder which led to the roof. “Head up there and find a vantage point on the inside,” he told Cairo. “Wait for my signal before going in.”

  Without hesitation he began climbing the rungs.

  Logan jerked his head. I followed him farther along the warehouse wall. There were boarded up windows and wide loading doors, but those were bolted shut. We were looking for a normal door or some other way inside without making too much noise. We reached the first edge of the building and went around the corner.

  A man was 20 feet ahead of us. He was walking in our direction, head down, not paying attention. We had our pistols up instantly. I trained my sights on his center mass and moved my trigger finger from the guard to the trigger itself, preparing to squeeze with deadly pressure…

  The man noticed us, and stopped. He blinked, then held up his hands slowly. His thick work gloves and greasy overalls marked him a factory worker. He was holding a half-empty bottle of beer. Just a guy who’d snuck away for a quick drink.

  Logan put a finger to his lips. The man nodded enthusiastically. We slipped past him, and then he sprinted in the opposite direction like his life depended on it. A new clock began ticking in my head. Our element of surprise was dwindling.

  We reached an access door on the side of the warehouse. Logan tested the handle. It was locked, but it was a simple door latch. Flimsy.

  A bird chirped above. We gazed up to see Cairo looking over the edge. He flashed some hand signals.

  Three hostiles inside. I have a vantage.

  We gave him the OK symbol, and he disappeared as he moved back into position. Logan held up three fingers. Then two. Then one.

  Here we go, I thought.

  When the last finger went down, I planted my boot on the door right to the handle, kicking with all my strength. The wood shattered along the lock and the door flew open, banging on its hinges.

  Logan ran inside first. I was right behind him. I was temporarily blinded as we went from daylight to darkness, but my eyes quickly adjusted. We rushed down a narrow hallway while looking down the sights of our pistols. Deeper inside the warehouse, someone shouted an alarm.

  Please let Karen be okay, I prayed as we reached the main warehouse room.

  We paused at the doorway to look inside. It was a massive open room. Four people were in the opposite corner from us, almost a football field away. Gunshots thundered in the room as they fired in our direction, the bullets sparking off the wall next to us, metal on metal. That’s when the adrenaline kicked in. My chest suddenly felt looser and I tasted copper at the back of my throat.

  It was the greatest drug there was. No cigarette pull could match this rush.

  “Three hostiles and an unknown,” Logan said.

  Cairo began firing down into the room then, his weapon a slightly different pitch than whatever the terrorists were using. They shouted and began fleeing, which was Logan’s and my cue to sprint into the room after them. They were heading for another door on the opposite wall.

  I spotted Karen immediately. She was slumped over in a chair, not moving.

  Not moving.

  I ran faster than I’d ever run in my life crossing the cavernous warehouse. By the time we reached Karen the hostiles were out of sight.

  “Help her,” Logan ordered as he continued running, disappearing through the doorway. I heard stomping on the roof. Cairo moving to the edge of the building to cover him from there.

  I slid to a stop in front of Karen. My heart sank. Her face was smeared with tears and blood. For a terrible moment I thought I was too late.

  Then her eyes opened.

  “Hunter!” she gasped. “Hunter, you’re here, oh thank goodness…”

  “Shh,” I said, wiping her tears with a thumb. It was a comforting gesture that did nothing to actually clean her face. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  A weary smile came to her face as I cut her free.

  12

  Logan

  I flew down the narrow corridor after the terrorists, the American girl totally forgotten. I had my sights set on the woman who was fleeing.

  From the glimpse I’d gotten, it was her. The one we’d been after since arriving in Spain.

  It had to be.

  The corridor led to a hallway that once held offices. I paused at the door and then pushed it open with my boot. Immediately, bullets began hammering the door and wall next to me, forcing me to duck behind the cover of the frame.

  Once the hail of gunfire ceased, I forced myself to take three long breaths.

  I peered around the corner. The far door was open, leading out into daylight. I aimed my P226, waited in case they were feinting, then followed.

  I reached the outer door in time to see their car peeling away down an alley. A gun aimed out one of the open windows and fired a few random bullets in my general direction, none close enough to make me duck. On the roof Cairo began shooting at them, sparks flashing on the car’s frame, but he wasn’t able to hit their tires from so far away. Not with a pistol.

  “Shit,” I said as they disappeared. I pulled out my cell to call intel, quickly reciting to them the license plate and car information while it was fresh in my head.

  I found Hunter kneeling in front of Karen back inside the warehouse. She was alive, but not in a good place. Hunter looked up at me like a boy who’d brought home a puppy. I almost expected him to ask if we could keep her.

  Shit. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

  “You’re a better shot than I am, so you lead the way,” I commanded. I knelt down to pick Karen up, holding her in my arms. She clung to me like I was her savior, warm and soft and a thousand other things.

  The terrorists may have gotten away, but at least she was safe. As I held her in my arms I realized that was the most important thing.

  Way too complicated of a situation.

  “Let’s go,” I told Hunter.

  13

  Karen

  I was carried out of the warehouse in the arms of a beautiful man.

  He made calming, shushing noises while stroking my hair as he took me to the car. I thought it was Hunter based on how affectionate he was, until I looked up and saw Logan’s rugged face staring back at me.

  “We’ve got you,” he whispered, for my ears alone. His piercing green eyes scanned the area. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just close your eyes and this will all be over soon.”

  I clung to his rock-hard body as we reached a car. He lowered me to my feet gently, and then Hunter was in the back seat of the car pulling me down to him, ushering me to safety. He pulled me down so that my head rested in his lap, and he stroked my hair with his fingers.

  “You’re safe, Karen. You can relax now.”

  I realized I was trembling. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t cold. Maybe I was in shock. Everything was hazy, like in a dream. I couldn’t tell if this was real or not.

  I was aware of the car moving, and Cairo and Logan speaking in the front seat. Knowing they were all around me made me feel safe. That and Hunter’s warm lap and soothing touch.

  We drove for a while.

  The car stopped and the door opened for me. “Can she walk?” Logan asked.

  “I’m okay,” I said as I rose from the car. My legs wobbled, but I forced them to hold strong. “I can walk.”

  Hunter put a comforting
hand on my back while we went inside the building. I was surprised to see it was a cafe, although from the outside it looked out of business. The place was deserted except for a female barista behind the counter.

  “Why are we here?”

  They led me through the cafe to the back. The barista nodded at us but didn’t give me a second look, even though my face was a mess. We went into a storage room filled with bags of whole coffee beans. Logan approached a door which looked like a broom closet. Behind it was a second, more robust door which had an electronic keypad where the handle should have been. Logan punched in an eight-digit code and the door unlocked with a metallic click.

  It opened into a larger room. Much larger than a broom closet. The first thing I noticed was how clean it looked, like a fresh hotel lounge. A leather sofa was up against one wall, with a few cots along another with pillows and folded blankets. Next to those was a bank of expensive looking lockers. There was a computer desk with three screens arranged in a semicircle, and a little kitchenette complete with a full refrigerator, stove, and microwave.

  Logan closed the door behind us. There was a soft suction sound as it locked tight.

  “What the heck is this?” I asked. “A secret bunker?”

  “Something like that,” said Logan.

  Cairo took my hand in his, tender and soft. He smiled and led me over to the sofa, sitting me down gently. Hunter handed him a white bag, which he opened to reveal various medical supplies. A first-aid kit.

  He wetted a cloth towel and then began cleaning my face. His amber eyes were focused on his work, totally devoted to ensuring he didn’t wipe so hard on my wounds that it hurt.

  “Do you need anything?” Hunter asked. “Water? Something to eat?”

  “I could use a few shots of tequila,” I said in a shaky voice.

  “We don’t have alcohol here,” Logan said sternly.

  “Just the medical kind,” Cairo said, waving a frosted plastic bottle from the kit.

  “I was joking.” I smiled at Hunter. “Water would be nice.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I glanced at another door next to the computer desk. “Is that a bathroom?”

  “We use the one in the cafe,” Logan said. “If you have to go…”

  “I was just curious. So what’s in there?”

  “Nothing,” Logan said a little to bluntly.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “It looks like none of your business.”

  Fine. Geez, there was no need for him to be a dick about it.

  I hissed with pain as Cairo rubbed a cotton swab over a cut on my cheek. “Sorry. This is going to sting,” he said.

  “You’re supposed to tell the patient that before you jab their cuts.”

  His smile was soothing. “I’ll remember that the next time I’m treating a beautiful woman.”

  “You only care about your bedside manner with beautiful women?”

  He jerked his head toward Hunter. “Let’s just say I’m a lot less careful when I’m tending his wounds.”

  Hunter handed me a bottle of water. “Asshole.” He gave Cairo a playful elbow.

  I took a deep breath. “So how bad is the damage?”

  “Not too bad,” Cairo said. Fire spread across my cheek as he dabbed more alcohol on my cut. “The bloody nose made you look worse than you actually are. Thankfully it’s not broken. But you have this cut, and your cheek is beginning to bruise.”

  “Great,” I mumbled. “Mallorca’s going to be a lot more fun if I can’t show my face anywhere.”

  Logan leaned against the fridge and crossed his arms. “Mallorca?”

  “Yeah, I was…” I shook my head. “Hold up. How about you guys tell me what’s going on before I tell you my vacation plans?”

  Logan nodded. “Thought you might have some questions.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You can’t tell me anything.”

  Logan, Hunter, and Cairo all shared a long look.

  “Actually,” Logan said, “we’re going to tell you as much as we can. It’s the only way to make you fully grasp the danger you’re in.”

  “I’m in danger?” I asked with mock surprise. “Like, I might be kidnapped and beaten by Interpol?”

  “Interpol?” Cairo asked.

  Logan narrowed his eyes at me. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”

  “There’s not?” I said with heat in my voice. My shock was wearing off, and was replaced with frustration and anger. “24 hours ago I received the score for my microbiology thesis, and I thought all my worries were gone. Everything seemed hunky dory then. A lot has happened since then, so a little sarcasm is the least of my worries right now!”

  Cairo’s amber eyes glowed with sadness. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s all our fault, not yours.”

  I made myself resist the urge to embrace him. “Start talking, then maybe I’ll forgive you.”

  “Right,” Logan said as if he was glad we could get down to business. “Let’s start with the basics. We’re Navy SEALs. A platoon within SEAL Team 13, to be exact.”

  “I… I thought the SEAL teams only went up to 10,” I said, dredging up an old memory.

  “Officially, that’s correct.” Logan paused, as if deciding how much he could tell me. “Unofficially, there are more than 10. That way we slip under the radar.”

  “How many are in a platoon?”

  “16,” Logan said.

  I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I said, “Are the other 13 hiding in this room? Should I look under the couch?”

  “Platoons are broken up for operational purposes,” Logan said, as if it was something I should already know. “Eight-man squads, or four-man fire teams, or even two-man sniper/recon teams.”

  I looked at Cairo, then Hunter, then Logan. “Again, the math doesn’t seem to work out. There are three of you.”

  “That’s part of what makes our team so unique,” Cairo said. “Aside from the dozen operational personnel feeding us information, we operate in special three-man strike teams.”

  “Cause the three of us can do the work of four normal SEALs,” Hunter grinned. “You’re bunking with the Lucky 13th, baby.”

  “You guys are lucky, huh?” I teased.

  “Fuck no,” Hunter said. “If anything, we’ve had worse luck in our two years together than any other squad.”

  “The name’s sort of a cruel joke,” Cairo explained. “Things never go smoothly for us.”

  “Maybe the luck will kick in someday,” Hunter said. “Positive thoughts and whatnot.”

  “Anyways,” Logan said with a sharp look at Hunter. “That’s who we are. We’re on standby here in Barcelona while waiting for strike orders.”

  “Orders to do what?”

  He hesitated. “We don’t exactly know yet. But it has to do with the CLF. Catalan Liberation Front.”

  I blinked. “Those guys who want Catalonia to gain independence from Spain?”

  “The terrorists who want Catalonia to gain independence,” Hunter corrected. “Use the right term, dude.”

  I didn’t know much about the CLF, which was embarrassing for someone who had lived here for half a year. There had been a referendum in Barcelona on whether or not to break away from Spain, but it was denied—or ignored—by the Spanish government. Upset at not having their referendum taken seriously, some of the separatists were notoriously violent.

  But it was one of those things I knew about without ever really knowing about it. Like someone from New York learning about the KKK from a textbook.

  “The suits who sit behind computer screens all day are certain that the CLF is planning a terrorist attack in response to their referendum being denied,” Logan explained. “We’re here to stop them.”

  “I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with you? America, I mean. Why don’t the Spanish handle the terrorists themselves?”

  “Spain is one of our allies,” Cairo explained. He pl
aced a tiny butterfly bandage over the cut on my cheek and pressed it down with his thumb.

  “The European Union is one of our allies,” Logan clarified. “And it’s in Uncle Sam’s best interest that the EU remain as stable as possible. Countries breaking off left and right is bad for business.”

  I still didn’t understand why Spain couldn’t handle it themselves, but I was happy to be getting answers. “The people who kidnapped and questioned me. They weren’t Interpol? They were the CLF?”

  “You got it,” Hunter replied.

  “Figures,” I said. “I thought Aina’s methods were a little extreme for a legitimate world organization.”

  Logan pushed away from the fridge he was leaning against. “Did you say Aina?” Hunter’s eyes were wide and excited next to him.

  “Yes?”

  Logan snapped his fingers. “I knew it was her!” He went to the computer desk and typed on the keyboard. “Is this the woman who questioned you?”

  I rose on shaky legs. Cairo took my arm and helped me across the room to the computer. I didn’t need his help, but it was nice to have his warm touch on my skin.

  “That’s her alright,” I said after only a second’s glance. “Same beret and everything. Who is she?”

  “Aina Jimenez,” Logan said. He pronounced the last name with a hard J, like the name Jim. I could hear the hate in his tone. “She’s the current leader of the CLF. I have to make a phone call.”

  He went over to the corner of the room and held his cell phone to his ear, speaking softly but urgently.

  “A woman in charge of a terrorist organization,” I mused. “Hashtag feminism.”

  Hunter laughed like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

  “Her nickname is la perra roja,” Cairo said. “The red bitch.”

  “And she’s not called that because she’s a communist,” Hunter said. “It’s cause she’s bloody as fuck. She’s more extreme than the old CLF leaders, and that’s saying a lot. She thinks independence can only happen through a fuck-ton of violence.”