Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Handling Haven: A Deimos/Trident Security/Delta Team Crossover (Kindle Worlds)

by Samantha A. Cole

  A combination of a sob and hiccup escaped her as she buried her face into his neck. It took a few moments for her to regain her composure while he held her tightly in his arms, stroking her hair and back. Finally, she took a deep breath. “W-We were waiting for the train, and I had to go to the restroom. Mom and Tara were waiting on the platform for me, not that far away. I was walking out of the ladies’ room . . . there was a fl-flash of light, a deafening boom, and scorching heat. I was thrown backward through the doorway.”

  She took a deep, ragged breath, then let it out slowly. “That’s all I remember. I woke up that night and found out 192 people had been killed and over 2000 injured after bombs exploded throughout the rail system. It took me four days to get confirmation that Mom and Tara had been killed instantly. I had a bad concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and my arm was busted too. The day before I was scheduled to be released and flown back to the States by the embassy, Gene McDaniel walked into my room and made me an offer. I would be listed among the dead and go work for the United States government, fighting terrorism. It took me all of two hours before I called the number he left and took the job. I allegedly died from complications during emergency brain surgery the next day.”

  A thought popped into Frisco’s head, and he took advantage of her pausing to catch her breath. “How’d you get on McDaniel’s radar? I mean—” He cut himself off as the answer became clear. “You were trying to get in the FBI or CIA, weren’t you? That’s what you were going to do with your law degree.”

  Haven nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “The FBI. That’s where my summer internship was going to be. When Homeland Security got the list of victims’ names, the other federal agencies were interested in learning everything about them, too, especially the survivors. With my family gone, my schooling and desire to become an FBI agent, topped off with needing a way to deal with my anger and grief, Gene figured I’d fit in perfectly with Deimos—and he was right. If I hadn’t been able to throw myself into my training, I honestly think I would’ve become self-destructive.

  “The only things I have from my old life is one photo of Mom and Tara, and my grandmother’s wedding ring that my mom wore all the time—Gene retrieved it for me from the morgue. Oh, and three challenge coins from when my grandfather—my mom’s dad—was in the 101st Airborne in Vietnam—Gene managed to get them from our house. I was able to keep the ring and coins because my mom’s relatives were never close to us, so nobody would miss them. I used to keep them in a safety deposit box that couldn’t be traced to me, but now they’re in my safe at the house. If anyone discovers them, it won’t matter anymore if they find out I’m not who I’ve pretended to be all these years since I’m no longer a field operative.”

  Another sob was wrenched from her chest as the loss of her family and her identity hit her again. Frisco kissed her temple as more tears flowed. If anyone around them noticed her crying, they kept their distance. The usual sounds of the park and Frisco’s comfort seemed to calm her. He brushed his lips across her cheek. “Why do you think their deaths are your fault?”

  His words startled her, and she tilted her head as her eyes narrowed at him. “How did—”

  “You were blaming yourself the other night in your sleep. You were having a nightmare and telling your mom and Tara it was your fault and you were sorry . . . why?”

  Wiping her wet cheeks, she said, “If we’d slept in like Tara wanted to, we never would have been there.”

  “Oh, baby. Don’t do that to yourself. A few months ago, Ghost told me not to live in the world of ‘what if’—I’d only drive myself crazy—and he was right.”

  “About carrying me to the chopper?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I was afraid I’d made your injury worse, but I didn’t have a choice. We had to get you and Reardon out of there.

  “Everyone who’s gone through something bad in their lives has those thoughts—what if I’d slept late, what if I’d gotten up early, what if I’d made a right turn instead of a left. Bad things happen to good people; it’s an unfortunate fact of life. We’re all going to die sooner or later, and no one should take the blame for something they couldn’t have seen coming and had no control over. All we can do is grieve for our friends and loved ones we’ve lost, then live our lives to the fullest in their honor—to make their lives and deaths mean something. I’m sure since going to work for Deimos, you’ve saved countless lives, far more than you ended. Now that you’re taking a new direction in your career, you’ll just have to find a way to continue honoring your mom and sister. You wouldn’t want them to lie in bed, crying day after day if you’d been killed instead of them. You’d want them to be happy and enjoy life, doing the things you could no longer do.”

  “Like your friend’s dad told you.”

  “Mr. Riggs was a great man. If it hadn’t been for his words at Digger’s grave site, I’m not sure I’d be in Delta. And wouldn’t that be a shame, because then I’d never have met you.”

  A small smile returned to her face. “And saved my life.”

  “Exactly.” Cupping her chin, he drew her closer and brushed his lips against hers. He was thrilled when she didn’t pull away, instead, lifting her arms to encircle his neck. Her mouth opened, welcoming him in, and it was an invitation he couldn’t refuse if he wanted to, which he didn’t. His tongue sparred with hers as his cock grew hard against her hip.

  “Eew, they’re kissing!”

  Haven ripped her mouth from his, and they both turned to see a group of two dozen or so boys and girls, around six or seven years old, walking past their picnic table. Two women, one at the front and the other at the back of the line, had to be their teachers, taking them for a short field trip. Frisco had no idea which little boy had started them all giggling with his very loud announcement, but it didn’t matter. Grinning, he glanced at Haven who was also laughing, despite her pink cheeks. “Busted.”

  “Yup.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “But I know somewhere we won’t be interrupted . . . and it’s got a bed.”

  Standing with her in his arms, he set her on the seat of her chair. “How fast does that van go?”

  “C’mon, Tara, hurry your ass up!” Halle McBride weaved through the pedestrians on the sidewalk, who were just starting their day. She’d woken up early, when it’d still been dark outside, and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. Instead of just lying there, staring at the ceiling and listening to her sister snore, she’d woken Tara and their mother, Maryann, and convinced them to start the day early. They only had a few more days of vacation before returning to Michigan and the daily grind of school and work.

  Her sister was a few feet behind Halle and their mom, trying to fix the broken zipper on her cross-body purse as she walked, not entirely watching where she was going. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  “Halle, slow down,” their mom chastised. “If we miss the train, there’ll be another one shortly. Tara, watch where you’re going. You’re going to walk right into someone. I swear, it’s like you two are little kids again.” It wasn’t an insult since she was smiling and looking forward to the day trip to a place they’d only seen pictures of.

  Wanting to make up for all the years when their vacations had consisted of outings to the local zoo or museums on free-admission days, or window shopping at the mall, the three women were soaking up everything they could. Paris had been fun, but having taken Spanish as her second language in high school and college, Halle was enjoying Madrid even more since she could understand most of what was being said around them. She’d even been able to flirt with their cute waiter last night during dinner at a little restaurant near their hotel.

  With her internship starting two days after the current semester ended, she was glad the McBride women had been able to schedule their trip for spring break instead. Thankfully, Tara was now in college with Halle, so they both had fifteen days off instead of the nine days their local high school had. Next year, though, with Halle in law school,
they didn’t know how much time they’d have. If it was only a week, they’d probably stay in the Western Hemisphere.

  As they approached the Atocha station to catch the Cercanías train to San Lorenzo de El Escorial, Halle glanced over her shoulder to make sure Tara was still with them. Still moving forward, Halle walked directly into someone coming out of the entrance to the building. “Oof!” She grasped the man’s arm to steady herself. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  The Middle Eastern man glared at her and spat something in Arabic as he shoved her away from him with more force than necessary. Halle almost tripped and ended up on her ass, but her mom reached out and grabbed her around the waist, stopping her momentum. She gaped in surprise. “What the hell? I said I was sorry.”

  The slender man stood about six foot two and wore loose-fitting, black pants and a white dress shirt. His hands were empty while a small knapsack hung down his back. An ugly scar from an old wound ran from his left ear to the middle of his cheek—his trim beard could only hide a small portion of it. His dark hair matched the color of his eyes—eyes that were boring into her with hate and venom. “Disgusting infidels,” he growled before striding away.

  “Well, screw you too!”

  “Halle, hush,” her mother said, pulling on her arm. “Ignore him. Let’s go.”

  Having given up on the zipper, Tara had also seen the whole thing and chimed in. “Yeah, the last thing we need on our vacation is you getting stabbed or shot by a psychotic stranger. Don’t worry, someday the asshole will get his; karma’s a bitch like that.”

  Staring after the man, Halle knew her mom and sister were right. In this day and age, with terrorists and madmen setting off bombs or walking into places and shooting everyone just for the hell of it, one couldn’t be too careful anymore. With a final, silent “fuck you,” to the rude bastard, she followed her mother and sister into the station. After they got their tickets and found the track they needed, Halle glanced around. “There’s a bathroom over there. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry,” her mom said, checking her watch. “The train will be here in eight minutes.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t miss it.” Zig-zagging through the morning crowd standing on the platform, Halle made her way to the ladies’ room. The screech of brakes on a metal rail announced another train’s arrival as it flew into the station and came to a stop. The doors to the cars opened, and the people on board fought to exit while others pushed their way in.

  After making use of the restroom’s toilet and washing her hands, Halle rubbed her hands under the hot air of a dryer on the wall. Striding to the door, she pulled on the handle and swung it open. The world detonated around her. A flash of bright light blinded her a split second before a thunderous roar filled the air, followed by screams. The heat was unbearable as Halle was thrown off her feet and backward into a wall. Pain exploded in her head. Falling to the floor, darkness overtook her as she managed to utter one word before going still. “Mom—”

  “Haven . . . Haven, baby, wake up.”

  Sixteen

  L ying next to Haven in bed, Frisco shook her shoulder as she thrashed back and forth. It was the middle of the night, and she was having another bad dream. He was about to say her name louder when she sat straight up, her eyes opening wide, as she panted to catch her breath. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he rubbed her thigh under the covers. “Hey, you okay?’

  There was a wild look in her eyes as she turned to him, still gasping for air. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Sh. What is it? What were you dreaming about?”

  She shook her head. Instead of answering him, she flung the covers off her body and swung her legs so they were hanging off the bed. Reaching for the wheelchair, she brought it closer and swiftly transferred from the bed to the seat. Confused, Frisco climbed out of bed and grabbed his shorts from the floor. Before he even had a chance to put them on over his boxer briefs, Haven was heading out the door.

  “Hey! Haven, what’s wrong?” He followed her into the office and as she began booting up the computers, he pulled on his shorts, then stood behind her with his arms across his bare chest.

  “I know who he is . . . I mean, I don’t know exactly who he is, but I know where I recognized him from.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

  “Who? The guy from the wedding?”

  “Yeah. Talking about my mom and sister during lunch must have triggered it. Middle Eastern descent, about forty years old, dark hair and beard, and he had this—this scar on his left cheek that started at the bottom of his ear. I ran into the same man right before we entered the train station in Madrid—literally. He was an asshole and called us disgusting infidels or something like that.”

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Frisco placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Are you sure, baby? That was an awfully long time ago, and both times preceded a tragic event.”

  “I’m absolutely positive, Frisco. This isn’t a game my mind is playing with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m also sure he’s Mr. Smith—or works for him—and was involved in both terror attacks. And now he’s looking for a trifecta using the nuke this time. Wherever he plans on detonating that thing, it’s somewhere in the US—I feel it in my gut.”

  He stared into her eyes for a moment, but her faith in her memory didn’t waiver. “I’m positive.”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “Let’s find out who he really is.”

  Haven ran a hand down her face as she reached for the bottle of water Frisco had placed next to her keyboard earlier. Her eyes were dry and tired from staring at her multiple computer monitors for the past eight hours. One would think a man of Middle Eastern ancestry, with a noticeable scar and probable ties to al Qaeda, would be easy to track down. Not. There were thousands of potential suspects from the al Qaeda and ISIS watch lists for her to go through, many of which had facial scars for one reason or another. And the list seemed to be growing every day as more were identified.

  She and Frisco had been in contact with practically everyone by this point, and each time she had to convince them she wasn’t imagining things. Kenny, Carter, and Jordyn had been easy to sway, having worked with her for years and had relied on her hunches before—and this was far more than a hunch. Currently in Washington, Gene McDaniel was also on board with her, but the president and the Army had been a little tougher to sell it to. They wanted a name and more proof this wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  Frisco had been on the phone all day with the three Delta teams, who were still stationed on the Texas/Mexico border, and his colonel. Everyone was in a holding pattern waiting for the elusive Mr. Smith to contact Preston Ward. Down in San Antonio, Kenny was hard at work on his computer trying to narrow down suspects for her, as were the other analysts in California, but ultimately, it came down to Haven identifying the guy. Whoever the bastard was, she prayed he wasn’t so far under the radar they didn’t have anything on him. Some of these guys spent years in the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Spain, and any other country they hated for the freedoms the citizens had, hiding in plain sight. They held down normal jobs, socialized with coworkers, and barbecued with their neighbors, who they could easily kill the next day without blinking an eye.

  With Roxie on her heels, Avery walked into the office and placed a turkey sandwich and potato chips on the desk in front of Frisco, who was currently talking with Ghost, getting an update. The older woman handed a second plate to Haven. “Eat. You barely touched your breakfast. You should also come out to the living room and let me help you with your stretches. You’ve been sitting there far too long.”

  “I’ve got too many photos to go through.” Her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her for more than a split second, she picked up a chip and tossed it in her mouth. “But thanks for the lunch. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She was about to grab another one, when her phone rang. Snatching it up, she glanced at the screen before connecting the call. “Hey, Jordyn
, what’s—”

  “He’s named the meeting spot. We have two hours to get to the Paseo Reforma in Nuevo Laredo. Kenny’s shooting you an email with the details, and then we’re running out the door.”

  “What? He wants to meet in a fucking mall?” Haven heard Frisco jump to his feet behind her and tell Ghost to hang on. “But that’s got to be almost a three-hour drive into Mexico from San Antonio.”

  “Guess he figures Preston can afford to find faster transportation. We’re headed for the airport—got a chopper standing by. We’ll call you when we land in Laredo and meet up with the Deltas.”

  Haven sighed, heavily. This was the first time she’d been this involved in a mission since her last one as a field operative, and she was being left behind. It royally sucked. “All right.”

  “Hey . . . don’t give me that sad-sack bullshit. We need you. Get plugged into the mall’s security cameras and find this bastard. You know what he looks like, we don’t. It’s not like the Deltas can waltz in there, wearing camos, with guns blazing. The mall was one of the targets on their list, but this is going to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants mission for all of us, and you’re in the pilot’s seat. Now get to work and don’t make me call Frisco to kick your sorry ass.”

  She snorted. Leave it to Jordyn to call her out. “Yes, bi-otch! And you take care of my boy down there. Anything happens to Kenny, and I’ll get out of this chair just to kill you.”

  “There’s the kick-ass woman we all know and love. Talk to you when we land.”

  Operation Cliffhanger was a go. Playing with a stress ball that had been on Haven’s desk, Frisco stared at the three monitors in front of him. The Deimos analysts back in California had hacked into the camera system and transferred control to the computers in Haven’s office. Each screen was broken up into sections of four. Haven and Avery were on either side of him, watching their assigned feeds which were from different cameras located throughout the mall and/or the body cams hidden on the individual operatives, including Carter, Jordyn, and Reardon. The latter’s was in a fake pair of glasses he was wearing.