Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Bang for the Buck (Kindle Worlds Novella) (SWAK Series Book 1)

by Margaret Madigan

  Maybe it was the terror of the day, or the shock of surviving, or the relief of having it over, but his words—whatever you need—made her melt for him. He was a good man, and he respected her enough to take care of her, despite her adamant denial of wanting to be taken care of from Saturday.

  She pulled a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge and offered him one. “You want some?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Melinda opened her bottle and took a long, cold gulp. For the first time since the Russians invaded Triada, she breathed deeply and let it out, allowing herself to relax some.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I understand. But I’m curious, what was that all about?” Buck asked. “At Triada. Why were they after you?”

  The muscles of her neck tightened as the whole thing came back again. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but he’d saved her life, and her colleagues’ lives. He deserved some answers.

  “Remember I told you I work with cognitive enhancing drugs? I’ve been researching cures for Alzheimer’s, but not too long ago I created something else, completely by accident. Unfortunately, it has a lot of bad side effects, but when the government got wind of it they wanted it anyway. And they wanted me to continue perfecting it. I guess someone leaked the information and the Russians decided they should have it, too. And me.”

  “At least they didn’t get it.”

  “Well, they got the drug and the research, but they didn’t get me. Thanks to you.” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and drawing comfort from him.

  “Then they missed the most important thing,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I want a shower first,” she said. Her skin itched to clean the horror of the day off. “I still have Brent’s blood on me.”

  He nodded. She suddenly wanted the blood off of her. She guzzled the rest of the beer, went to her room to grab some clean clothes, then into the bathroom to start a shower.

  As she stripped her clothes off, tears stung her eyes and her throat clogged with grief and anger and confusion. She threw the clothes in a corner and climbed into the shower, setting the water as hot as she could tolerate, and stood under the spray as the tears poured down her already-wet face.

  The tears turned to sobs, and when her knees went weak, she collapsed into the tub, wrapped her arms around her bent legs, and rocked and cried while the hot water pounded down on her.

  She didn’t register the door opening and only noticed Buck when he pulled the curtain open.

  He squatted down to her level. “I heard a thump. I wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  She dropped her forehead to her knees. “It’s my fault they’re dead.”

  He reached in and turned off the shower before grabbing a towel and held it open for her. “Come on. Stand up.”

  She looked up at him. Kindness warmed his eyes, but his jaw set firm like he wouldn’t tolerate any argument from her. She was too tired to care, anyway. It was easier to do as he asked because it didn’t require her to think.

  She stood, unashamed of and comfortable in her nakedness, and stepped out of the shower into the towel. He wrapped it and his arms around her, holding her tight.

  Leaning into him, she allowed herself to absorb his warmth and solid strength.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said.

  She looked up at him, gazing into the deep blueness of his eyes. “It is. They were there for my drug. And for me. If not for me, those people would still be alive. And if not for you, more of them would be dead. Oh my God. I haven’t thanked you yet. I’m so sorry.” She’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings about the incident that she hadn’t even thought to thank him for rescuing her.

  “You don’t have to. It’s what we do.”

  “No. You put your life at risk to come after a woman you’ve known for three days. You didn’t have to do that. So, thank you. I’m so grateful you saved the rest of those people. And me.”

  He smiled and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. Her heart lurched at that little expression of kindness and affection. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” He backed away and took her hand. “Now, let’s get you into bed. You need some sleep.”

  She clutched the towel to her and he put his hand at her low back to guide her out of the bathroom. That little gesture of possessiveness that had irked her on Saturday, soothed her now.

  In the bedroom, he pulled back the covers on her bed, and asked, “You sleep nude or do you need some pajamas?” The words had a casual ring to them, but when he glanced at her over his shoulder, the wry look on his face spoke volumes. “Because if you plan to sleep nude, I may have difficulty keeping my hands to myself.”

  The thought of his hands on her warmed her inside and out. Her gaze as she met his was both shaky and shy. “What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?”

  He came to her, holding her shoulders in his grip, and looked into her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot today, Mindy. Your emotions are unstable and maybe your judgment isn’t so great. I’d like nothing more than to sleep with you, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You keep saying that. You’re not taking advantage if it’s what I want. Unless you don’t want sex with me.”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to her until she’d been halfway through the sentence, and then she’d been horrified not to have considered it. Maybe he really was just being nice and didn’t want to sleep with her.

  “Trust me, I want sex with you. The other day wasn’t nearly enough. Something tells me I could never get enough. But not tonight. Tonight we just sleep.”

  She felt a blush creep up her chest and neck into her cheeks. As fast as her body had inflamed with desire, it deflated with relief. Sex sounded like a good way to work off some of her angry, grieving energy, but snuggling into the safe, quiet cocoon of his arms sounded vastly better.

  While Buck used the bathroom, Melinda threw on some underwear and a tank top, turned off the light, and crawled under the covers. The cool sheets and weight of the comforter made for a cozy nest where she could rest.

  When she closed her eyes, Brent’s bloody body waited for her, along with the surprise and fear on Mark’s and Charlie’s faces as they died, their bodies tossed out the open window.

  She swiped at the sting of tears. She’d never hear Brent’s goofy laugh again, or his earnest reports of his progress. It always seemed like his success hung on her approval, and now she felt like she’d never given it enough. Her heart broke at losing him.

  Buck climbed into bed behind her. He still wore his jeans, but he’d shed his shirt and his warm body enveloped her as he wrapped an arm around her and snuggled against her back.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer right away. Her instinct was to snap that she’d never be okay. But he’d probably seen plenty of people killed. He’d probably killed some himself. So the fact that he’d asked her meant he realized how much it hurt to see her colleagues killed. He was thinking of her.

  “Not right now. I will be eventually. Have you ever lost anyone?”

  “On a mission?”

  Had he lost someone outside of his job as a SEAL? He must have, otherwise he wouldn’t have made the distinction. But he didn’t offer the information, either. Which made her curious. “Sure.”

  “About a year ago we lost one of our guys on an op in the Middle East. But it’s always a possibility. That’s part of the job. We expect it every time we deploy.”

  Of course that had to be true. His job was one of the most dangerous in the world. But he was still human. “But how did it make you feel?”

  “You can’t be a SEAL without trusting each other with your lives. It’s a brotherhood. So losing anyone is hard. But every time we do a mission, we know it could happen, and we accept it. We’re not afraid. So we mourn a fallen brother, but we don’t dishonor his loss by letting it break us.”

>   “Losing Brent, Mark, and Charlie all in one day, to such violence, all because of me? Just might break me,” she whispered.

  Buck rolled her to her back so he could look in her face. “Why Alzheimer’s? Did you lose someone to the disease?”

  The change of subject jarred her from thoughts of her colleagues. “My dad. That’s why I got into pharmaceutical chemistry. I wanted to save anyone else from that pain.”

  “So you lost the person you were closest to in the whole world, but you didn’t let that break you, right? You used it to fuel your entire career.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You’re too strong to let what happened today destroy you, Mindy. It’ll throw you off for a while, but you’ll come back. You’ll find a cure for Alzheimer’s,” he said.

  He kissed her cheek, then rolled to his back and pulled her to him, snugging her to his side where she fit perfectly. The rest of the day fell away and when she closed her eyes Brent didn’t lurk there, waiting for her.

  They lay in comfortable silence, the minutes drifting by as Melinda faded into half-sleep.

  Buck squeezed her tight in a sideways hug. “I’m glad there are people like you trying to find cures for the bad stuff.”

  Her sleep-fogged brain registered his words, reminding her she’d wondered if someone else close to him had died. “Did you lose someone?”

  He didn’t answer at first, and after a couple of minutes, she figured he wouldn’t. But when he finally did, his husky voice spoke the words as if they were big ugly things that hurt to say. “My mom died of cancer.”

  Having experience with prolonged painful deaths, she could sympathize. “I’m sorry, Grady.”

  “It’s okay. Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said.

  She sensed the tension in his voice when he mentioned his mother, but doubted he’d tell her anything more if she asked. It hurt a little that after everything they’d been through, and the intimacy of the last few days, he still couldn’t share his loss with her. But it was probably for the best. He’d be gone in a week or so, and she’d never see him again. It wouldn’t do her any good to fall in love with him, but as she floated off to sleep she had one last conscious thought: too late.

  Melinda woke snuggled to Buck’s side, his body warming hers beneath the cozy covers. Snippets of the night before flashed in her mind, warm comforting reminders of Buck’s careful concern for her.

  She opened her eyes to darkness broken only by a bit of faint moonlight, and leaned up to see the clock over the top of Buck’s chest. The glowing green numbers read 3:10 a.m.

  Why had she woken? Had she dreamed something? Somewhere in her bleary semi-consciousness, she remembered a faint thud.

  Probably Mr. Wiggles jumping down from the kitchen counter.

  She curled in closer to Buck and took a deep satisfying breath. She could get used to going to bed with him every night. It wasn’t only good sex. It was having another person in her bed. Having him in her bed. He’d been there when she needed him, helped her when she was vulnerable. She wanted to know him better and take a turn at helping and taking care of him.

  She’d always been an introvert and fine being alone. Mr. Wiggles slept with her and his furry, warm body kept her company. Rarely did she invite men to her house. It made her nervous to share her personal space with anyone else because it seemed like an invasion. Buck, however, fit right in. He made himself at home and she liked it, because it felt like home.

  Her mind wandered as she stroked Buck’s chest, and drifted into a contented half-sleep.

  Then a floor board creaked and both she and Buck shot up in bed.

  “What was that?” Buck whispered, fully awake in that instant.

  “I don’t know. Mr. Wiggles isn’t heavy enough to make that board creak.”

  The sour cramp of adrenaline squeezed her stomach. The only explanation was another person in the house, and that freaked her the hell out.

  “Where’s the board?” Buck asked.

  “In the dining room.”

  Which meant the thump she heard had been someone coming in the back door in the kitchen, and now that person crept into the dining room. Next, they’d make a right into the L-shaped hallway for the bedroom, bathroom, and laundry.

  Buck slipped silently from bed. “Get dressed. Do it quietly.” His whispered words were so hushed she almost didn’t hear him. “And call the police.”

  By now her heart pounded so hard the intruder had to be able to hear it and use it as a target to find them.

  She climbed out of bed and threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt over her tank top, then tiptoed toward Buck, but he stood to the side of the door and held up his hand when he saw her approaching. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the low light to see him shake his head, point at her, and point at the closet. He wanted her in the closet?

  She raised her hands in a “why” gesture, but he’d turned into SEAL Buck—all his adorable humor and patient attentiveness had vanished and in its place stood a stony, silent, lethal human weapon.

  He stood to the side of the door in only his jeans, and no weapons, other than his bare hands. The way he looked, she believed he could do it.

  She backed away a few steps toward the closet, but glanced at the night stand where she’d plugged in her phone to charge. She needed to reach it to call the police, but before she could, the board in the dining room squeaked again and a chill of fear slithered down her spine.

  The handle of the bedroom door rattled a bit, then turned. Melinda swallowed hard, trying not to whimper. It was really real. Some intruder had broken into her house and was invading the private space of her bedroom. What if she’d been alone? What if Buck hadn’t been there to help?

  The door opened slowly—an inch, another inch—before the muzzle of some sort of gun slid into the space. After that, all hell broke loose.

  Buck roared and grabbed the muzzle of the gun, pulling the guy holding it off balance, and tossing him onto his knees before kicking him in the gut.

  Gunfire erupted and both Melinda and Buck squatted, but while Melinda crab-walked backward into a corner, Buck stampeded into the fray.

  Several more men, all dressed in combat gear including helmets with funky-looking devices—maybe night vision?—face masks, and body armor, poured into her room.

  Buck fought them as they came, his fists and legs flying. Melinda squeezed her fingers into her ear at more gunfire, but the shooting stopped after one of the men barked an order in Russian.

  Buck ducked and rolled and snatched a knife off one of the men, using it to slash at legs and arms and anything exposed enough to damage, but there were too many of them. Just as they began to overwhelm him, one of the men stepped up and grabbed Buck by the throat.

  “Where is the woman?” He spoke the words in a thick Russian accent.

  Melinda froze. She couldn’t breathe. Her blood pumped like sludge in her veins, her heart gasping to make it move.

  Buck spit on the guy’s face mask in response to his question.

  The Russian pulled his sidearm and pressed the muzzle to Buck’s forehead. To his credit, Buck stared the guy down as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Melinda knew the Russian would kill him. They’d done it already to several of her colleagues. She would not lose Buck.

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice a desperate cry.

  She stood, still pressing herself into the corner of the room. The intruders turned in her direction. Their expressions hidden by their helmets and face masks, she couldn’t make out their reactions, but she imagined they’d spent all their energy on Buck rather than actually searching the room. They had to feel stupid.

  “Take her,” the Russian said.

  “I’ll go with you willingly,” she said, choking on the words. “If you let him go. Don’t kill him.”

  The Russian said, “He is important to you?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused for a moment, considering. “He will go with us, to ensure your cooperation.”r />
  Well, darn. That wasn’t what she’d intended.

  “No. Leave him alone,” she said.

  “He comes with us, or I shoot him now. You choose.”

  Melinda shifted her gaze from the Russian to Buck, whose expression managed to be both intense and as blank as the Russian’s face mask. Completely unreadable, other than pissed as hell about the situation. In the end, it didn’t really matter what he thought, there was no way she’d let him be killed. She’d never recover from seeing him shot in the head in her bedroom, knowing she could have stopped it.

  “Fine. Bring him with us,” she said.

  She couldn’t see his face, but she imagined the Russian grinning that he’d won. But really, how could he not? He brought six men with guns and armor against two unarmed people sleeping. It was hardly a fair fight.

  As the Russians zip-tied Buck’s hands, he looked like he hated having lost the fight. Like, somehow, he should have been able to stop the whole thing. Which was ridiculous. More Buck cockiness, which he’d just have to get over.

  The Russian leader brought out a syringe, uncapping it. “I only have one. I did not anticipate your company,” he said to her. He signaled to one of the other men, who whacked Buck hard on the head with his weapon. Buck went limp, knocked out.

  Melinda gasped. “Why’d you do that? I said I’d go willingly if you didn’t hurt him.”

  The Russian shook his head as he approached her. “You said you’d go willingly if I didn’t kill him. You said nothing about not hurting him.”

  She did her best to glare her hatred at him. It didn’t seem to have any effect, especially as he plunged the needle of the syringe into her upper arm and the world quickly blurred and went black.

  ***

  Awareness lurked at the corners of Buck’s mind, playing tricks on him. At first, his sluggish brain refused to grasp consciousness and Buck assumed he was dreaming. But then a dizzy, throbbing headache dragged him into semi-alertness.

  When he opened his eyes, though, it was as dark as if he hadn’t. It disoriented him, opening his eyes wide but being unable to see. Panic flooded his brain that somehow he’d been blinded, but when he tried to reach for his eyes the bite of zip ties on his wrists and the pole his arms were wrapped around stopped him.