The SEAL's Promise

by Grace Alexander

  "I think you underestimate him, Miss Thompson. Men like him, they walk a very dark line. But one they consider honorable. Men like him live for the fight, but they do not leave a woman to die. They help. That is what they do. And, I hate to be so blunt, but unless your friend and I work out a business deal, you will die to prove my point. It is all business, my dear. I hope you understand that."

  "Well, thank you for being honest with me." She smirked before she thought better of it. The oppressive heat skewed her judgment, and she needed to be smart about this. She could talk her way into more time, increasing the likelihood Drake could save her.

  "Sarcasm is not necessary." Mateo showed his impeccable white teeth in a garish smile, extended his arms as if welcoming her to the family. "I promised you to my second in command. However, if you have something to offer, if you can bring your man to me, then I will spare you that unpleasantness."

  Tessa couldn't think straight. Her head pounded. "I don't understand. What do you want from me?"

  "Stupid woman." His hands slammed on the table in fisted balls, and the table settings jumped with a loud crash.

  The noise startled her. She shook to attention. "Your men grabbed me at his house. By now, he'll know I'm gone." Tell him what he already knows. Buy time.

  His brow furrowed. "Do you think I am an idiot? No. You will speak to him and explain that I will consider a trade. You for the file."

  "I just met him. It hasn't been a normal few days. I have no idea how to get ahold of him." More or less, that was true.

  Valencia raged and slammed his hand on the table again, making her jump at the clatter. "If I can find his hidden house, I can surely track down a phone number. Do not waste my time."

  "I'm not. I promise." Tears welled in her eyes.

  "Miss Thompson." He calmed a degree and sipped of his ice water. After a long drink, he dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "You will agree to my request, or I will hand you over to Bruno."

  "Bruno?"

  "My number two."

  For the first time, Tessa noticed Bruno a dozen yards away. He stood savage. The gleam in his eye turned her stomach as he sneered from his vulgar face. Bruno licked his lips, and his fingers flexed against his thighs. He looked one defiant order away from losing his restraint and salivated like a junkyard dog, frothy saliva at the corners of his mouth. His face was pocked and sunburned, greasy and hairy. He looked thick in the gut but powerful in his arms. Sweat dampened his pits, and stains marked his pants. That was his number two?

  Tessa shook her head, her eyes glued to Bruno. "Mr. Valencia, I'm not worth that trade. He won't agree to it."

  "Bruno does not look like much, but he is crucial to my operations. You would make an excellent reward for his continued service."

  Bruno licked his lips again, this time, with more tongue.

  An involuntary shudder rippled through her. "Wait." She didn't know what to say. They would kill her but not before torturing and raping her. Her tough girl act faded, and she whimpered. "I'll do it."

  "Of course you will." Mateo motioned for the sandwiches to be served. With an expedient delivery, several types of tea sandwiches were placed on the beautiful china plates with the crusts removed. Such contradictions. Dainty sandwiches as she dined with a monster. Narcissist was too weak a description. She should tack on sociopathic, pathological, and deranged.

  They sat in silence as he devoured his finger sandwiches, and Tessa picked at hers with polite intention. She would follow his requests, be demure when she needed to, and play to his psyche. She would do whatever it took to live until Drake showed up.

  Dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin, Mateo eyed her up and down. "If he comes for you, it will be on my terms. But just in case either of you try to deceive me, you will stay in the main house with me."

  With him? Less scary but not encouraging.

  He stood with a smooth air about him and walked away, a gaggle of armed guards in stride. Bruno and Señor Scar Face stalked toward her. They bound her hands again and pushed her down a path. They rounded a bend, then stopped at a pickup truck with a partial canvas cover. Señor Scar Face tossed her onto the truck bed and jumped in, perching above her, while Bruno got in the truck cab.

  With every divot in the makeshift road, her body slammed onto the hot metal bed. They traversed further into the jungle. Tessa closed her eyes and wished Drake could read her mind. Until then, she was alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The pickup truck rumbled to a stop before an imposing wood gate with a half dozen armed men guarding it. A stone fence surrounded the compound, soaring at least twenty feet high. The guards did a bored once-over of the truck until they saw Tessa. Laughter and catcalls followed. Animals. They were all animals.

  The gate opened and closed, caging her inside the sprawling estate. They stopped in front of a Spanish mission-style mansion, with stucco walls, wide sweeping arches, and an expansive manicured lawn. It looked straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. Immaculate and pristine, minus the armed guards crawling around like ants in their colony.

  Señor Scar Face pulled her out of the truck and toward the mansion. They stepped to massive wooden doors, which clicked open. Cool air conditioning washed over her body. It was heaven.

  Tessa looked around, breathing in the chilled space. The air was fragrant. It reinvigorated her. Marble floors gleamed, the high ceilings soared, and expensive tapestries hung in each corridor. Decadence. Perfect for a maniacal narcissist with trafficking money.

  They moved up one side of the grand double entryway staircase and toward the last room at the end of a bricked-in corridor. His boots echoed down the unfriendly hallway. After unlocking the deadbolt, he pushed her in, a hand gripped tightly on her back, then shut the door behind him with a resounding thud. The latch clicked, and Señor Scar Face stood against the only way out.

  The windowless room was lit by a small light bulb, casting a heavy amber glow. There was a bed, a blanket, and one small closed door. He untied her wrists and pointed to the door.

  "Shower and clean."

  "Okay." Would he stay? Tessa's stomach turned.

  He leered, but left, locking the deadbolt from the hall. Shudders ran down her back. Silence caved in on the dank room.

  A lot of atrocious things had happened in this room. She could sense it as she made her way into the bathroom. A dress waited for her on the edge of the sink. The bathroom did not have a mirror or lighting. She left the door open for a slice of light and got in the shower.

  Raw welts encircled her bloodied wrists. Bruises throbbed across her body. Bug bites itched. A cold shower would clear her mind. She needed a plan. Think like Drake. What would Drake do? But his course of action didn't surface. She closed her eyes to bite off the tears.

  Someone pounded on the door, which sounded as if it would cave into the room. It brought her back to her cruel reality.

  "Let's go," a man shouted through the door. Fear churned, slushing up the fruit salad in her stomach. She slammed the water off and wrapped the towel around her fast, praying the voice would stay outside. She ignored the raw burns and scratches, and shimmied the dress and her worn underwear on seconds before the deadbolt unlocked and heavy booted footsteps walked in.

  Bruno flanked her side in an instant. He huddled over her, harshly breathed her in. Tessa's stomach catapulted, and she braced for the worst, but he laughed and forced her into the hall. They moved through the labyrinth and arrived in a bright sitting room.

  Mateo sat on a spotless white couch, sipping out of a demitasse cup. Spicy cologne and the aromatic coffee intermixed. Everything was flawless. Everything except that Bruno drooled over her, and she looked like a wet dog in her cartel-gifted sundress. Her legs quaked, and she tried to lock her knees to hide her reaction to the men.

  "Are you ready to contact your friend at Safehouse Security?"

  She didn't know whether to hang her head or not. Tessa opted to meet his gaze and hold her head high in faked c
onfidence.

  "Of course. Yes, Mr. Valencia."

  Tapping his fingertips together, he didn't respond, and Bruno left them alone. A nervous flutter ran rampant through her stomach. Silence. Mateo needed more from her. What did he want?

  "Thank you for the shower."

  A surprised glint flashed on his face, and he nodded in acknowledgment of her gratitude. Bruno walked back in and signaled to Mateo, who then picked up a nearby phone and handed it to Tessa. She pressed the phone to her ear. It rang.

  An automatic answering system picked up. Hello, thank you for calling the corporate headquarters of The Safehouse Security. If you know your party's extension, please enter it now. If not, please hold for the operator.

  "I don't know the extension," she whispered.

  Mateo didn't respond. She sucked on her lip. Apprehension tugged her thoughts. Unsure what to do, she did nothing. She didn't know much about Safehouse Security, but of what she did know, it didn't seem like they had a receptionist sitting at a front office desk. The phone rang three more times.

  "Hello?" a man answered.

  "Um, hello. Is Drake McKay available, please?" She shook, trying to pull herself straight.

  "Tessa?"

  "Yes."

  "It's me," the man said.

  No, it's not. Who is this? His delivery conveyed a trust invoking quality. It didn't give away any concern or interest.

  "Sorry. I've never heard you on the phone before."

  "That's okay. I'm glad to hear your voice. Where are you? Who are you with? I saw someone take you on my security footage."

  Tessa covered the phone with her hand enough to show Mateo that she wanted his permission, but her position allowed Safehouse to hear as well. "Mr. Valencia, he would like to know who I'm with and where we are."

  "You may tell him that you are my guest and that you are not hurt. He can figure the rest out. Your friend will know what I want, and I am willing to negotiate."

  She turned her mouth back to the phone and moved her hand ceremoniously. "McKay, I'm fine. I'm Mr. Mateo Valencia's guest at his beautiful white home. The gardens are gorgeous."

  Mateo slammed his hand down. His accent flared. "Enough. I did not say details."

  Tears welled in her eyes. Of course, Mateo would realize she tried to reveal her location. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Valencia. I wanted to convey how lovely you've been to me. The food. The shower. Thank you."

  He looked convinced of her genuine thanks. "Fine. Go on then."

  "Yes, sir," she said before speaking back to the phone. "I'm not hurt. Mr. Valencia is willing to negotiate for what he wants."

  "And he wants?" Safehouse's man spoke in an even unaffected tone.

  "The list."

  "Of course he does. And I assume you're the pawn in this exchange?"

  "Yes."

  "But he doesn't want to talk to me?"

  She offered him the phone.

  "No." Mateo shook his head. "Not now. He needs to think over the possible consequences if he does not comply."

  Putting the phone back to her ear, she said, "Not right now."

  "Don't you worry. I'll see you soon. Just relax and listen to Mr. Valencia. You'll be safer that way. I promise."

  Who was she speaking with? He had to be one of Drake's team members. But why didn't he put Drake on the phone? He'd see me soon? A trickle of hope bled through her veins. "Oh, that's great. Thanks."

  The line disconnected. Tessa passed the phone to Mateo and found him studying her.

  His fingertips tapped again. "What is great?"

  Ph no. She hadn't meant to sound so full of hope. "Nothing. He reassured me everything would work out."

  With a disgusted grin, he groused. "How nice."

  Her fingers pleated into the skirt of the sundress. Now what?

  Mateo took a sip of his coffee and beckoned to Bruno. "Return her to the room but do not touch her yet."

  Bruno grunted disagreement.

  "Damaged goods won't help me get that cipher," Mateo explained as if he had repeated the reasoning so many times before.

  She felt damaged already. But the wounds on her skin weren't what he meant. The lust in Bruno's eyes didn't bode well for Tessa. He seemed to weigh the options—listen to his boss or deal with the consequences, and he didn't appear too concerned about the consequences. Tessa fought to swallow the terror choking off her airway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The satellite phone rang in the jet somewhere over the Caribbean Sea. McKay would've answered it if he could have. He had a thousand questions ready for Talon, but Joseph wouldn't let him get near the phone.

  Instead, McKay was sentenced to a flight where every man trained their uncertain gaze on him, unsure if he should be on this job.

  Of course, he should, but he didn't like how the details were playing out. Their plan was based on strategic assumptions and scientifically wild guesses. McKay tried to remind himself that cartel kingpins didn't always behave according to plan, and this was the best situation.

  Joseph hit the speakerphone button. "Give us something good, Talon."

  "Good? I'll give you fantastic. Tessa called our headquarters. I'm sure she knew I wasn't McKay but never let on. She kept her cool, described her location, and I checked a few things out. You guys are headed to the right locale."

  His girl was alive. A small wave of relief cooled along the back of his neck.

  "Why did Valencia have her call?" Joseph asked.

  "He wants to deal with McKay and thought he was still stateside."

  McKay paced the length of the airborne war room. He paused, then drummed his fingers on the corner of the table.

  "So we've got the element of surprise," Joseph said. "Given that it's five men to their army, we'll need that. Anything else?"

  "What? A location confirmation and proof of life aren't enough?" Talon asked.

  Proof of life. McKay should never have left her alone. This was his mistake. That realization struck him numb, and he raked a hand over his jaw.

  "What's our timeline for McKay to make contact?" Joseph asked.

  "I think our boy should give him a ring." Talon paused. "Offer up the cipher in exchange for her. I think Valencia wanted it to sink in before they chatted again."

  "Sink in?" McKay asked.

  "I got the vibe Valencia wanted McKay to sweat it. He's not pulling the standard operating procedure for a ransom request."

  "What a piece of work. All right. Patch us through to wherever Tessa called from." Joseph pointed at McKay with a ready sign.

  He nodded back.

  "Roger that," Talon said.

  A ringing sound echoed in the belly of the plane. Each long pause in between ate at his sanity. On the fifth ring, a woman answered.

  "Drake McKay for Mateo Valencia. He's expecting my call."

  "Sí." The phone went silent. He raised his brows, silently asking if they still had a connection.

  Invisible boulders weighted his shoulders and his mind. He needed to stretch. He wanted to fight. But more than that, he braced for every appalling outcome.

  "Ah, Mr. McKay." A voice, iceberg cold, filled the galley through the overhead speakers. "I trust you found time to consider the gravity of your situation. You must be interested in your lovely friend's safe return."

  "Safe is preferred." Games worked both ways. He could do this.

  "Ah, so you do realize she can come home in several different ways."

  "Understood," McKay growled.

  "Maybe in a box. She could be in one piece or many."

  His fingers flexed with the urge to reach through the phone and rip the guy's throat out. "What's it going to take, Valencia?"

  "I want that list. Simple. You hand it to me, and I, in turn, will hand you your girl. And she is your girl, isn't she? I have an eye for these things. It makes me superior at my job."

  Ripping Valencia's throat out would be too easy. Too fast. McKay could come up with much better ideas later.

  "Sh
e is exquisite," Valencia said. "Even with the bruises."

  McKay's teeth gnashed. If he hadn't willed them apart, they would have shattered. "Do not touch her. You turn her over unmarred and unhandled, or no list." He hid his rage, storing it for Mateo Valencia. No warning of his caged fury slipped through his measured cadence.

  "Her injuries were accidental," Valencia explained casually. "No more will harm her if we make a deal. If not, I promised her to one of my best, albeit most fiendish, men. In that case, things would not end well for her."

  Anger thumped in his chest. Each guilt-drenched breath ached. Mateo baited him. McKay knew it and tried his best to rein in his reaction. "The list is yours."

  "Excellent."

  "But hear me like your world depends on it, Valencia because it does. If she so much as sneezes in your care, I'll make you pray for death."

  "Mr. McKay, no need for threats. My offer is true. If you make the exchange, she will be returned, unharmed. If I do not receive the list, then you leave me no choice. She will be harmed. Am I clear?"

  The things McKay would make clear to Valencia when he was finished with him would be innumerable. The first lesson should've been clear: don't mess with his woman. But he diverted his attention from mapping out lesson number two. "How do you want to do this?"

  "Fly to Medellin via private charter. I expect you will arrive by midnight our time. I will have my driver escort you to my home. Come alone. Do not bring any men. Do not bring any weapons. Any failure to follow my directions will result in catastrophic repercussions."

  Following the rules was never his forte. "Where will your men take me?"

  "What does that matter? Your ground transport will already be arranged."

  "I'm supposed to trust you will return us to the airport. No harm? That sounds like a load of Colombian lies to me."

  "Whether you like what I do or not, my reputation is sterling. My word is solid. If I speak, you should believe it."