Stranded With Ella

by Shelley Munro

  “I’ll miss you.” The truth as far as she was willing to admit.

  Dillon broke their embrace and leaned over to switch on the bedside lamp. She blinked at the burst of light and drank in the tousled picture of sexiness. The hard muscles. His blue eyes and the black stubble shading his jaw. During their lovemaking, she’d noticed the old scars, although they hadn’t discussed them.

  “I’ve always been eager to join my team again,” Dillon said, his gaze searching hers. “Not this time.”

  “Because of me?”

  “You snuck up on me,” Dillon said ruefully. “Hana helped me understand I’d lose you if I didn’t admit to my…ah…affection for you.”

  Ella wrinkled her nose. “Should I apologize for crashing into your life?”

  “Never.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone buzzed. He slid out of bed and stopped the alarm. “Are you sure you don’t want to drive with us to the airport?”

  “I’ve had so much time off work, and I’d hate to embarrass you by blubbering in public.”

  “You blubber? Surely not. Not the spitfire who barged into my life and told me off. Okay, before we go, I want to snap pictures of you and one of us together. Josh and my other friends will assume I’m spinning stories without photographic evidence. Bet he’ll want to barge in on our Skype sessions.” He grinned as he said this, affection for his sibling in his expression. “I’d better shower and get moving.”

  “I’ll make coffee.”

  With a brief nod, Dillon strode from the bedroom and Ella unashamedly stared at his bare backside, taking visual pictures. She’d bring them back out during the night when she was missing him. As she filled the kettle with water and measured the coffee beans, she admitted to herself this separation might be harder than she’d assumed. Knowing Dillon was in danger and might die... She shook away the thought the instant it formed. No, she’d maintain her positivity and keep busy. She’d email Dillon all the local gossip and use this time apart as an opportunity to get acquainted.

  Her phone rang, and she answered.

  “Ella, it’s Mike Hastings here. I’m sorry to ring you this early, but I’m heading out of town for two weeks. I’ve decided to sell the cottage. It goes on the market this morning. The real estate agent will be there just after nine to take photos.”

  “Oh?” Shock stole her ability to put sentences together.

  Dillon’s arm curled around her waist. “Something wrong?”

  Could she buy the cottage herself? “How much are you asking for the cottage?”

  “The agent said I should get five hundred thousand for it. Maybe more if I can attract the right buyer.”

  Ouch! Out of her price range. “How long do I have to move out?”

  “You can stay until I get a buyer,” Mike said. “I apologize for the short notice. You’ve been an excellent tenant, and if I wasn’t desperate for the money, I’d be happy for you to stay. It’s still possible the new purchaser will let you remain as a tenant.”

  Ella doubted that. She’d find somewhere else to stay, although it had taken a while to find her cottage. “It’s all right, Mike. Thanks for telling me.” She ended the call and turned to Dillon, her pulse racing with a burst of anxiety. “Mike Hastings needs money and he’s selling my cottage.”

  “Easy,” Dillon said without hesitation. “Move in here. As long as you don’t mind the seclusion or walking Rufus. It should be safe enough now that the poachers are in jail.”

  “Are you sure? I enjoy it here, but...” She trailed off, not wanting to voice the fact their relationship was new and might not last this enforced separation.

  “Dad is available if you need help. Connor will check on you. The main problem will be the blocked road. I doubt the council will bother clearing it in a hurry. Think about it, anyway.”

  Despite his obvious sincerity, she felt as if she was taking advantage. No, that wasn’t quite right. Although she liked Dillon, everything had happened between them so fast. For once, she was second-guessing her instincts and wondering if this time she might make a mistake. “Thanks, I will. The coffee is ready. I’ll grab a quick shower. Ten minutes tops.”

  Ella hurried through her ablutions and left the house with Dillon. They didn’t speak much during the drive to the landslide to meet Dillon’s father, Ella dealing with weighty thoughts.

  Dillon parked his vehicle and handed her the keys. “Move into my place, Ella. It would make me happy if you slept in my bed.”

  Ella studied his earnest expression. At the least, moving into Dillon’s place would give her time to make plans for the future, but it still made her feel weird.

  Dillon’s father arrived just as they reached the other side of the blocked road.

  “I will miss you.” Dillon drew her against his chest and kissed her, heedless of their audience.

  Ella clung, putting everything into their kiss. Her love. Fear. Her trepidation of what the future might bring. Her uneasiness at their separation.

  “Son, I hate to end this farewell, but if we don’t get moving, you’ll miss your flight to Auckland.”

  Dillon pulled away from her, his callused fingertips stroking her cheek in a silent exchange that eased the worst of her anxiety. Then, he was gone, the vehicle disappearing around the bend and leaving an edgy silence and an uncertain future.

  14 – Back in Afghanistan

  “Bro!” Josh, his younger brother, clasped him in a strong embrace before the rest of the men in his team greeted him one by one. Dillon scanned Josh and each of his brothers-in-arms and sensed something was off in that one quick glimpse. In the same instant, he realized he was done. He was ready to go home and stay with Ella.

  “Something wrong? Where’s Bull?”

  “Our mission last night was fucked up from the start,” Josh said. “The information we were sent from HQ was wrong, and we walked into the middle of an ambush. Bull went missing during the firefight.”

  “Missing,” Dillon snapped out, fury digging into his features.

  They didn’t leave men. Never. Dead or alive, they brought them home.

  “Who was running the mission?” Dillon asked. It would’ve been him, had he been here.

  “Guy from HQ,” Josh muttered in disgust. “No field training in Afghanistan.”

  “Williams?”

  Dillon turned to face a slim man in a crisp Army uniform. He bore an equally crisp English accent, which wasn’t unusual since the NZSAS sometimes liaised with other countries. “Yes, sir.” He had a strong sense he was facing the guy from HQ.

  “My office once you’ve changed.” The man swiveled and marched down the hall at a steady clip.

  Dillon and the others eyed him until he disappeared.

  “Guess I’d better get moving and discover what we’re doing about our man,” Dillon said. “Josh, I have things for you from home. Mum sent cookies.”

  “ANZAC biscuits?” Josh’s voice held enthusiasm.

  “Might be. Come and find out.”

  His brother followed him with an eagerness that reminded him of a puppy they’d had as kids. Jasper had lived to the ripe age of fifteen, and Dillon stilled missed the feisty Jack Russell.

  “I met someone while I was at home,” Dillon said.

  “Mum might have spilled the beans. The parents are pleased, from what she said in her email. Do you have a picture?”

  Dillon handed Josh his phone. His brother plugged in the password and thumbed to the photos. “The one with pink hair? Oh, yeah. Here’s one of both of you. You look happy.” Josh glanced at him, his blue eyes serious for once. “I’m glad you’ve found someone. After Hana, I worried about you. You changed.”

  “Guilt,” Dillon confessed. “I wasn’t there for Hana when she needed me. It’s better now we’ve caught the men responsible. From what they said, Hana’s death wasn’t planned. She struck her head when she fell.”

  “Bro, cut the guilt shit. Hana was happy during her time in Eketahuna. She wrote to me. Mum and Dad loved he
r, and she made friends. You shouldn’t worry or accept responsibility.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Dillon wasn’t about to admit Hana—the ghost Hana—had told him the same thing. “Josh, do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” his brother replied.

  “If something happens contact Ella for me. Don’t sugarcoat the truth. She’s a strong woman, and if she has to worry, I’d prefer she received the facts. After Hana, I don’t want secrets. Hana and I… I want to do things differently with Ella. Will you do that for me?”

  “Nothing will happen to you.” Josh radiated confidence. “But I will talk to Ella. I promise.”

  “Thanks.” Dillon scowled as he buttoned his uniform shirt. “Better see what the boss wants.”

  The English man from HQ was a moron. Didn’t take Dillon long to come to that decision.

  “My gut is screaming about this mission,” Josh muttered as they slipped through the darkness of an Afghani night.

  The moon—a slim sickle in the sky above—gave off scant light but the night-vision goggles aided their eyesight. Acute silence. Nothing except his own breathing. His hackles raised. On instinct, he slowed and raised his hand in a signal for his group of five to do the same.

  “It’s too quiet.” Hummer, a short, wiry man from north of Auckland, voiced all their concerns. The man had a gift with engines and delighted in taking them apart, especially Hummers, hence his nickname. “Something is off.”

  Dillon ran through the orders they’d been given and visualized the map in his head. “What if we backtrack and approach the village from the high ground?”

  “Boss said it would take too long,” Josh reminded him.

  “Rather take too much time than walk into another trap,” Frog declared. The man had a bulky, muscular body but moved with the grace of a panther. His nickname came not from his build but from his love of karaoke. The man couldn’t sing to save himself.

  “I agree. Let’s retreat and approach from the high ground,” Dillon said.

  “Boss will have our arses,” Hummer said.

  Mitch and Kahu, the remaining members of their six-man team, nodded in agreement.

  “My arse,” Dillon stated. “Let’s move out.” His back itched as if someone was watching him. A thorough scan of the rocks, dust, and sand in their vicinity did nothing to reassure him. Still, the hair at the back of his neck prickled. Despite the night air, sweat coated his back and chest, making his shirt cling to his skin.

  The rumble of voices had him freezing in position. His hand signal warned his men to still at his back, but they’d already caught the traveling sounds of chatter and slowed. The ground in front of them rose at a steady incline, and about fifty feet ahead lay the crest of the hill. Dillon signaled for his men to wait and crept stealthily forward. He dropped onto his belly to crawl the last few feet.

  A flock of sheep stood in a roughly constructed pen. Two young boys huddled around an open fire and the scent of roasting rabbit floated in his direction.

  Reassured by the normalcy, he retraced his steps to join his waiting men. “Two young boys with their sheep,” he murmured. “We’ll retreat and circle these kids. We don’t need them raising the alarm.”

  Silent nods were the only reply his men offered, and Dillon focused on the surrounding terrain, attempting to decide on the swiftest route to meet their objective—capturing or destroying the splinter group of militants who were causing problems for the locals and the military in the area. They’d need to follow the line of the cliff until it flattened out enough for them to scale the incline and trek to the coordinates given to them by HQ.

  He signaled, and he and his men returned to the base of the rise. Dillon started along the bottom of the cliff, following a narrow path made by animals.

  Josh tapped his shoulder. Dillon’s pulse jumped—a shot of adrenaline flashing through his muscles—yet training held him still.

  His brother leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “I got something. Movement at three o’clock. Must be a cave system.”

  Dillon focused on the area, and he spotted the shifting of a guard, bored with his post and moving to keep awake. Bad mistake on his part.

  He gestured for the men to press against the cliff to their right. Given the angle, the guard wouldn’t spy their stealthy advance.

  “The information from HQ was wrong. Again.” Josh spoke in a hard voice, bitterness a slight layer beneath.

  “Are we certain this isn’t another group of innocent locals?” Frog asked.

  “Only one way to find out,” Dillon said. “Wait here.” He took two steps when an anguished cry rippled from the direction of the guard.

  “Bull,” Josh whispered.

  “Hold,” Dillon ordered as each of the men instinctively surged forward. “We need to be clever about this. How many men were with the group that attacked you? A rough headcount.”

  “Ten,” Josh replied. “Two died and the others got away. I’m certain we injured at least two.”

  “We’ll go under the assumption they might have left one or two behind to guard their den. That means we should plan for at least ten to fifteen men. This group works with small mobile units, so with the element of surprise, we should grab the upper hand. Suggestions?”

  “The guard looks bored,” Frog said. “We need to take him out before they replace him with someone more alert.”

  “Agreed,” Dillon murmured.

  Another pained scream emerged from the cave, attracting the guard’s attention.

  “They’re busy torturing Bull,” Josh said in an urgent voice. “Their attention is divided. Let Frog take out the guard and we’ll move.”

  “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” Dillon nodded at Frog, and they watched their comrade melt into the darkness.

  Dillon spared a brief thought for Ella and moved to Hana then smiled. Between the two, they’d make his life miserable if he didn’t return home alive. Neither of them had spied Hana since the day of the lecture. Hopefully, she rested at peace now. He emptied his mind to focus on the mission and the enemy. Bull’s broken cries bolstered his determination and the can-do will-do attitude from his men swirled around him. On this, they were of one mind. The SAS did not leave men behind.

  Frog approached the sentry and pounced. The man crumpled without a sound, and Dillon and the others approached the cave. Didn’t look as if any others were outside. Another jagged scream emerged from the confined space, but still none of the enemy exited the cave. No doubt the torture doubled as entertainment. These men were confident, which would be their downfall.

  Dillon made a mental note to check where HQ had received their intel. Someone was feeding them a line, and that needed to stop.

  He crept closer, weapon in hand, and cautiously rounded the lip of the cave. He hugged the wall while he took stock of what they faced. Eight men. A walk in the park. He glanced back and signaled the body count to his men and gestured them forward before focusing on the men with Bull. They’d be the first to die.

  He waited a beat for his men to get in position.

  Without warning, a shower of small rocks rained from the ceiling of the cave entrance. Dillon never hesitated. He fired two shots in rapid succession. The two men torturing Bull fell and didn’t move again.

  Now that they’d lost the element of surprise, his men came in hard and fast, diving low or hugging the wall. One of the enemies was clear-headed enough to grab a gun and return fire.

  A bullet flicked fragments of rock from the cave wall. One dug into Dillon’s cheek. He never stilled but fired, winging the third man.

  Men shouted. The bang and whistle of ammunition filled the chamber with smoke and the acrid scent of hot weapons. A bullet hit Dillon in the chest, the oomph of power stealing his breath despite the protection of his vest. A second shot, a split second later punched through his shoulder. His vision narrowed to a pin prick as he fired a return shot. He felt himself crumpling, felt the thump as he met the ground and everything went black.

&n
bsp; 15 – A Call In The Middle Of The Night

  The Big Ben chime of Ella’s phone woke her. She bolted upright, her heart pounding and a burst of fear blanking her mind. It was dark. Early. Chilly. Disoriented and groggy, she fumbled for the lamp switch. Her phone did a tiny dance showing a text, and she snatched it up.

  Hey, Ella. It’s Josh, Dillon’s brother. I’ve sent you an email.

  Another burst of anxiety had her fumbling her phone. It took two attempts to get her email to pull through.

  She scanned the subjects until she came to one from Dillon. She opened it.

  Ella,

  Josh here. Dillon zigged when he should’ve zagged and took a bullet to the shoulder. Our medic tended him almost straightaway and assures me Dillon will be fine although he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. We got him back to base, and they’ve sent him to the hospital here for treatment. BTW, I don’t know what you and Mum have been feeding him but he needs to go on a diet.

  Dillon made me promise to contact you if something happened, but we’d both prefer if you didn’t tell Mum and Dad yet. HQ will contact them this morning, anyway. I’ll email or text you again once Dillon is out of surgery, and I have news.

  You’ve done good with my big brother. He worried me for a while there. Can’t wait to meet you in person.

  Josh.

  Ella read the email again, and despite Josh’s upbeat manner, concern pressed against her chest, making her concentrate on each breath. Dillon had barely returned to Afghanistan and he was in surgery with at least one bullet hole in him. And he was still unconscious. That wasn’t good.

  Ella doubted she’d be able to sleep now. She checked the time on her phone. Five-thirty. She might as well rise. How long did an operation take? Ella pulled on a robe and thrust her feet into a pair of slippers.

  She slipped her phone in her pocket and put the kettle on to make tea. Josh didn’t email or text again, so she dressed and went out to take care of the alpacas and to let Rufus off for a run.