The SEAL's Promise (Safehouse Security)

by Grace Alexander

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

  McKay bet Tessa was psychoanalyzing this piece of cartel trash.

  "Besides, what other choice do you have?" Valencia asked.

  "I'll meet on your terms. I'll be in Colombia midnight, local time."

  Adiós. He sliced at his neck. Joseph punched a button. Talon cut the connection. No one spoke before the line disconnect was confirmed.

  McKay forced his muscles to relax and whistled a death march. "He doesn't have a clue we're on our way, does he?"

  Joseph pursed his lips. "He might. If things are going too easy, we're walking into an ambush. Valencia didn't rise to the top by being slow to the game. By now, he should know more about Safehouse. I'd say you two just did a sparring two-step."

  McKay crumbled a scrap of paper from their table and threw it into the trash can. "I'm gonna do a quick step tango all over his face."

  "You're going to follow orders."

  "Yeah, yeah. I get it. It's your rodeo, Joseph."

  "You know it. Now, if you don't mind, let's finalize the details." He flipped the remote and shuffled through the satellite images. "The tree line here, overlooking the gate will be our best for surveillance. Cason, you set up a protective watch here. You'll handle any unexpected men during our entry and cover our asses on the way out."

  Cason nodded, his cowboy hat pulled low. He grabbed a set of printed images and turned to study them.

  "Barrett, you'll handle diversions at the front gate." Joseph pointed, analyzing the screen. "Raid, I need you on wheels. We should have an armored Range Rover ready when we land. It's all yours. Our contacts in Colombia will have staged anything at our rendezvous point that wouldn't pack in that vehicle. C4 and charges. Extra guns and ammo. If you don't see something you need, tell me."

  Barrett and Raid knew the deal. Joseph turned his focus. "And McKay, I'll kick your leatherneck, devil dog behind from Colombia to the States and back again if you run in there like your butt's on fire."

  McKay grunted. He didn't respond to Joseph. Didn't even look at him.

  "I'm not messing with you, McKay. If you don't get yourself under control, I'll bench you on this one. You'll sit on this plane until we get back. I'll even let Barrett sweep in and rescue your girl."

  Barrett cocked half a grin and raised an eyebrow. "I'd be down with that, buddy."

  "No way." McKay turned from one man to the next. "Don't even think about it."

  Barrett laughed and slapped McKay on the back. "I've never seen you worked up like this. Who knew it was possible?"

  Joseph cut in. "All right, all right. McKay, you'll be the same cold pain in the butt, as always."

  "Yeah, yeah. 10-4." McKay glared and cracked his knuckles. "I'm focused."

  "Glad we have this all under control, lover boy."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Bruno flashed too many teeth, the cadence of his breaths too quick for their short walk. As he guided her toward her room, his fingers flexed into her arm, cascading in a deviant rhythmic massage. Bruno stopped at an open door. His rancid odor surrounded her. Please, walk away. Leave me alone. Her heart slammed into her rib cage.

  With a disgusted shove, he shut the door on Tessa, enclosing her in the windowless room, alone. She'd take any small miracle. Bruno abandoning her now would qualify as one.

  The lock scraped closed and seemed to seal her fate. Bruno was perched inches away, only a thick wooden door offering protection. Too bad he had the key. She could feel his evil aura. His boots didn't retreat. Each heartbeat thumped in her ears, marking the anguishing passage of time. He wasn't leaving. Her mouth went dry. Panic bubbled like acid in her stomach.

  Go away.

  The scuffing sound of movement dialed back the oxygen in the room. It was hard to breathe. Was he turning to her? Or from her? A shuffled step. Her mind played tricks. The sounds bounced. Her ear ached to hear what direction he would go.

  Silence.

  Please go away. Please.

  Another footstep. Toward her or away? She still couldn't tell.

  Her lip trembled. Her hands covered her mouth to drown any wayward weep. Was she strong enough to handle whatever depraved plundering lurked in the sick depths of his psyche?

  A sound again. It moved away, as he did. Every ounce of petrified anxiety tore from her chest, a heaving breath escaped. Tessa doubled over, holding herself. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Just kill me now. This was more than she could take. The room closed in, suffocating her. The air somehow thinned. She gulped at it. She was too weak, nothing like Drake promised she was. How had she fooled him? It was pitiful how easy it was to back into the corner, begging for the easy way out.

  Still holding herself, Tessa sunk to the floor. The dim light illuminated the room, but her sight blurred through her sobs. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  This sniveling stuff had to stop. Channel shock and awe. Find it. Do it. Now.

  She traced a finger on the cold tile floor. The hysterical tears slowed to a stream. She could blink them away. Force them to stop. She had no choice. How was she going to get out of this? She hadn't come up with anything close to a bamboo bazooka.

  A wisp of hair tangled over her wet cheek. Tessa blew at it, banishing it back in place, but it stayed put. She didn't make an effort again. Exhaustion weighed her eyelids, already puffy and swollen from irresponsible, self-pitying wails.

  Mateo and Bruno yielded no information to aid her struggle for survival. She should have studied their interaction, searched for weaknesses, and built a psychological profile. But she didn't.

  Where was Drake?

  Tracking her to Colombia seemed impossible. How would he know where to find her? She tried to pass along a clue to the man on the phone, but how many white houses with gardens were in this country? A lot.

  Drake would have to play Where in the World is Tessa Thompson? Only with automatic weapons instead of a red trench coat and hat.

  Tessa winced after she made herself laugh. He was a tough guy with a soft heart. He'd find her.

  I've needed you my whole life, Tessa. And I had no idea. His words echoed in her mind. Just when everything seemed so fresh and safe, so outrageously optimistic, life laughed at her plans. It had been foolish to fantasize about fairy tales.

  The scrape of footsteps drifted under the door. Did she hear Bruno? Or was that Drake? Her brows pinched, desperate to hear again. The sound of silence blared. Her eardrums nearly exploded. Her mind was Looney Tunes' playground, laughing at her struggle to remain awake and coherent. Was this dehydration? No, this was a delusion.

  She should have devoured those stupid sandwiches and guzzled the fresh cold water. All she could do was beckon sleep. Her forehead pressed against her folded arms. She scrunched against the floor, trying hard to melt into it and away from here. Drake would come. He would. She hadn't found him just to let him go. He needed her. Didn't he? Drake...

  The door clamored open, and she jerked awake. She couldn't get her bearings, feeling near comatose. A monster loomed ginormous, and it was certainly not Drake. His teeth glowed in the dark, and his foul odors gagged her awake. A hand grabbed her and covered a caustic rag against her raw lips. Tessa jerked away, scraping her fingernails into his knuckles. They were so rough, she could've ignited a match with a strike to his grated skin—it had to be Bruno.

  He lurched her out the door and sloshed her through the hallways. One confusing turn after another. The fumes from the poisoned rag seared her nostrils. Bitterness abraded her tongue. Her stomach rolled, convulsing. Her eyes slinked side to side without her control, as bright trails from hallway windows decorated her drugged vision. Oh, this again.

  She slammed into Bruno's armpit, smashing to a stop. Her eyes moved hazy and lazy, searching for an answer.

  Mateo Valencia.

  She tried to focus. Tried to study him at his desk. Stupid coffee cup. Stupid
cologne. Did he want another phone call? Her lips tingled. She couldn't feel her tongue or her face or her… Lots she couldn't feel, but sleep she could, even standing up. The hum in her head lulled her asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Raid adjusted the steering wheel in the Range Rover. McKay sat in the backseat, sandwiched between Barrett and Cason, and tried to spread out. The last thing he wanted to do right now was knock knees. Anxious adrenaline raced its course. How did he end up riding in the back?

  He ran his fingertip over the recently sharpened edge of the tactical blade. Its serrated claws gleamed. The metal was warm in his grip. He had toyed with the knife handle since they started their steep descent. His hands itched for action, while his mind messed with him. The job had never been personal, and this was far past that level. Doubt and anger battled, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his throat.

  McKay coughed for attention. "If anything goes wrong, if something happens to me, you bring Tessa home. No questions."

  Joseph ignored him.

  Cason rolled his eyes. "Come on, McKay. Nothing's going to go wrong. We didn't fly across the globe to bail on your girl if your pretty face takes a bullet."

  He couldn't keep his mouth shut. "She's an important person."

  "Yeah, we gathered that," Cason snickered.

  McKay sheathed his knife and ran his palms over his thighs, anxious with too much energy and too many what-ifs.

  Joseph turned around in his front passenger seat. "Listen, man, do whatever you have to out there. And we'll do the same. We know somewhere in your pea brain, she's important to you, so she's important to us. End of conversation."

  Joseph finished with a curt nod and swiveled forward again. They bumped along a makeshift path. Branches hit the windshield. McKay wasn't entirely sure Raid was using a road. But whatever the quickest way from point A to point B was, he was cool with it.

  Raid pulled up hard, parked the vehicle as planned, and they exited the vehicle. Cason slipped into the vegetation. Gone. Snipers, and typical Cason. Sneaking in. Sneaking out. The man melted into shadows.

  Barrett had the trunk open and unloaded a cadre of explosives.

  Joseph moved past McKay. "Let's go. On my six."

  They hustled to the fence line then barreled to the main gate like they were running toward Satan's open jaw. On the other side, a battle waited, machine guns on the ready.

  Barrett broke off with a hand gesture from Joseph. McKay checked his watch. Time wasn't moving fast enough. They dropped to the ground. Waiting. Calculating. Preparing.

  Blast number one hit. The front gates exploded. Shards of wood and fragments of concrete rained down in a cloud of smoke and fire. Before the vibrations stopped, blast number two, smaller and less obvious, rolled through the outer wall. Alarms shrieked. Guards bellowed. Confusion penetrated the perimeter.

  Joseph and McKay crawled to position, rifles up, scanning their opening. Uniformed men ran toward the main gate, positioned in defensive formations, and ready to take on an enemy they couldn't see.

  Time to duck and hustle. Joseph and McKay sprinted forward, reached the side of the main house, and breached a door. They pushed in. Uniformed maids ran past them, eyes averted. Obviously, not their first attack. He swept a harsh gaze back and forth. No tangos worth a bullet.

  A quick hand gesture later, Joseph veered down a winding hall. McKay listened with angry intent for signs of life, oncoming attack, and Tessa through the constant pulse of warning alarms.

  The house sounded empty. Joseph was on stealth mode. Undetectable, then he disappeared.

  McKay moved forward, one cautious step at a time, long gun ready, finger on the trigger. Seeing no traps, he sidestepped around a corner, focusing on the now dark hallway as the sirens still blared.

  McKay pushed down a hall, spot-checking each room. This place was a maze. A muffled feminine sob stole his breath. There was only one closed-door left.

  He readied to burst through the door, but instead, tried the handle. It swung open to his real-time nightmare.

  Mateo Valencia held her by the neck and shook her limp body as he pointed wildly to something outside the window. Several foreign curse words flew at her, and she had the thousand-yard stare of a battle-weary soldier. Valencia moved her with the ease of a child playing with a doll. Her arms hung flaccid, and her legs wobbled.

  McKay's try-the-handle-first tactic gave him the element of surprise. Valencia never even looked his way.

  "Get your hands off her, Valencia." McKay roared so deep, his voice was unrecognizable.

  Valencia spun Tessa into a chokehold. A knife glinted in the other hand. Tessa faced McKay but gave no acknowledgment. Oh no.

  She couldn't even focus in his direction. Her head lobbed forward before Valencia shook her back to consciousness. The need to hurt someone burned in McKay's veins.

  "How are you here?" Valencia looked around.

  All his guards were busy. Big blasts would do that. Thank you, Barrett.

  "Pure magic, dude."

  "Stay where you are." A nothing-to-lose gleam shined in Valencia's eyes, and his lip curled in contempt.

  McKay lowered his weapon.

  "I'm surprised. Did you not expect us? That I'd leave her to a wolf like you?" McKay clucked in mock disappointment.

  Valencia pressed the knife against her throat. Tessa seemed not to notice. "She is yours if you hand me that cipher."

  "Nope." The simple word stoked McKay and made him readier to end this nonsense.

  A blast rocked the floor, followed by the pop of gunfire. McKay smiled. Joseph was on the move, clearing their way out.

  In more of a show than was necessary, McKay clicked on the live feed of his mic, "Tango located. Second floor. Third room north of center."

  No response in his ear, but he was sure he transmitted. The team was out there. Always watching. Always listening.

  "I am not scared of you, McKay." Valencia spat his name out.

  "Then you're a moron. You have seconds to make the right decision." McKay backed up to a large wooden hutch, and with an angry shove, he barricaded the door. "Now you have no way out."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A sharp sting tore her neck, dragging her from a dizzying unconsciousness. She was standing, and no longer in that windowless room. Flashes of Bruno charging her, hand outstretched, made her double-check she was still breathing. A cold sweat shivered across her body. Her arms and legs did nothing she asked of them. What was happening?

  The room came into focus. Brighter than her room. Loud clanging reverberated in her head. A massive migraine swirled behind her eyeballs. Tears further blurred her vision, then leaked down her cheeks.

  Murmurs. Far away, whispers. She fought to focus and shake the cotton from her head.

  "Tessa."

  How familiar that voice sounded… But it echoed along with a pounding headache. She closed her eyes tight and tried to swallow against her dry mouth. Instead, she hacked and cough. Her throat stung again.

  Then she heard ferocious words. They were jumbled. She couldn't understand until she realized they weren't English. That moment, the situation came back in fits and starts. Valencia and he captivity. Everything was so slow in her mind just like after the gas station.

  "Tessa."

  Drake. His words were far away as though they were in a dream.

  She tried to focus again. Colorful blurs lined up. Images sharpened. Sensations collected, aligning themselves in her mind. The room was bright. It smelled like smoke and cologne.

  Tessa rolled her head to the side. Mateo Valencia wrapped his arm tight around her neck. The horrible, familiar feeling of a knife slicing her neck sent flashbacks of The General screeching into her head.

  Life has now come full circle.

  She pulled away from the recognizable lick of a blade. She heard Drake. She felt Drake. He wouldn't let Mateo slit her throat. She blinked, and there he was, in all his superhero glory.

  He was miles away, yet h
er arms reached for him. His steely eyes paid her no notice. He looked like a raging bull. Larger than she remembered. He was incensed and ferocious.

  Mateo shook her with powerful pumps. Her arms and legs shimmied like gelatin. He launched her toward Drake, then yanked back. The vicious cycle was on repeat. Their words jumbled. Their disagreements were loud, yet empty and meaningless.

  The door behind Drake bucked and bent. Thunder plowed through the room. Vibrations waved one right after the other, catapulting her to full consciousness.

  Mateo yelled over her shoulder. "My men will blast through that door. Both of you will die."

  "Take the knife from her neck." Drake narrowed his bloodthirsty stare to Mateo, morphing into a giant of a man, perched to attack.

  "She will die." Mateo rocked her limp body again. "You'll never get out of here alive."

  He brought Tessa to the window, and she saw the carnage. Smoke drifted from the fence line, and a fire was in the gardens. In the distance, gunfire pulsed. Drake had arrived with an army in tow.

  Mateo cursed in her ear and pulled away from the window.

  Tessa caught sight of Drake again. In spite of it all, she smiled. It was too short a moment as Mateo dragged her back to the window again.

  The black smoke drifted skyward. She could taste it. Alarms still sounded. The men outside looked like children's toys. They were so far away. Was this a dream?

  The window exploded inward, launching them in a tidal wave of glass. Mateo released her, and Tessa fell as though her legs were like stilts in quicksand.

  A heavy weight fell over her. Mateo? His eyes were open but he was gone. Dead. Drake stormed her. He scooped her into his arms and threw her over his shoulder. The move was too fast and jarring. The horizon slipped sideways. Her stomach fell. Her headache felt like it hit her toes. Everything throbbed, but then she caught sight of Mateo Valencia, lifeless on his beautiful carpet.

  Her relief was missing. Where was it? A feeling. An emotion. Something, anything. But nothing surfaced. Her mind was empty and foggy.

  He kept her still with a palm on her backside as he moved through the large house. Each of her muscles flopped against his hard body as he bounded down a set of stairs. She jostled as he took each step. This should hurt more than it does. Something's wrong.