Shatterproof

by Jo Chambliss

  Chapter 13

  Chris

  Ari has been asleep since Bandaid left. While things are mostly quiet, I get the feeling they won’t stay that way long.

  Shortly after Willa and I have breakfast, I get a call from Omen. “We’ve got a name and address. Give me your sheriff’s name and number, and I’ll contact him to spare you the go-between. Since he’s a friend of yours, I assume there won’t be any trouble?”

  “There shouldn’t be since he’s the one that told me to run with Willa. I’ll call him anyway. Give me ten minutes.”

  “No problem.”

  I’m glad to be one step closer to drilling this asshole, but even while calling Mike with the good news, my nerves are still ratcheting up.

  “You guys all right?” he asks when he answers.

  “Mostly. Ari is sick, but we’re safe. Mike, listen. I contacted a group I know, Pantera Security.”

  “Are those the guys out of Alabama I’ve been hearing about from my DC pals?”

  “That’s them. We took on some missions together before they retired as a team and started their company. Anyway, one of them is former CIA with wicked find-shit-out skills. I contacted them about the kidnapping and asked them to help ID the bastard that took Willa and Ari.”

  He doesn’t reply, and I assume he’s pissed. “Look, Mike, you know your county and your job, but you’re limited. These guys aren’t. They found your guy and are willing to work directly with you. Actually, they’re waiting for permission to contact you with information on this shitstain’s ID.”

  His sigh can be heard over the phone, and I can imagine him removing his cowboy hat and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Give them the number.”

  Calling Omen back, I relay Mike’s name and number, and then another call beeps in. Shit. It’s the commander.

  “Omen, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Go, man.”

  I switch the call and hold my breath. “Hill.”

  “I need your team on base in five hours. Pack everything. You’re going to the freezer.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  “Five hours,” I repeat and confirm.

  It’s not two seconds after I hang up that my phone is ringing. Devil. “What are you gonna do with the girls? Is it safe to just leave them?”

  “No, I can’t leave them. Omen and his team ID’d the guy, but they still have to find him. I can’t send them back to Lydia while this guy is still loose, and with Ari having strep throat, I can’t send them to Alabama to be around Omen’s team and all their new babies. I’ll figure something out.”

  “You better figure fast. I’ll check in with the rest of the team for you.”

  “Thanks, Devil.”

  The call disconnects, and I place the phone down on the table.

  Pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I swear.

  “What is it?”

  My head jerks up at the sound of Willa’s voice, and I reach my hand out to her and pull her down to straddle my lap. My thoughts go back to last night, and I’m filled with the ache to touch her soft skin again.

  Slipping my fingers under the hem of her shirt, I run my fingers up and down her back. “I have to leave.”

  Her eyes, so full of worry, stare back at me. “When?”

  “My team has to report to base in five hours.”

  “Where are you going and how long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions yet. But even if I did, I couldn’t discuss it.”

  There are many unasked questions I can read on her face. I imagine the most important one being about keeping Ari safe. The problem is that I’m out of options. Every man here that I know and trust is going with me, besides the commander.

  The only possibility I know of immediately is one that I don’t like. The words burn like acid in my mouth as I speak, “Willa, in Cle’s research, she mentioned that your ex lives in a high-end community with a manned security gate. I know it isn’t ideal, but I’d like you to consider staying in Bethesda while I’m gone.”

  The look on her face tells me that the idea is as appealing to her as it was to me. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but Ari’s safety is more important than what I want. I only hope he meant what he said about helping us.”

  It doesn’t take long to get an answer when she calls him. About two-point-three seconds after she finishes making her request, she’s disconnecting the call. “He said he’d be here in four hours. All he needs is a location.”

  Hell. Despite what I said earlier, I’m not thrilled about Westbrook having my girls. I wish to god that I had time to come up with something better.

  I don’t want to lead anyone to Devil’s house, so we send him a text telling him to meet us at a movie theater nearby.

  Now that the arrangements are made, Willa leans forward and rests her forehead against mine.

  I hold her tight, wishing I didn’t have to go. “I hate leaving you. Especially with Ari being sick.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Ari will bounce back in a couple of days. Jonathan might drive me crazy, but that’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. I’m more worried about you. I’ve seen the movies. I know your job is dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but what you don’t see in the movies is what lengths we go to prepare and how long we rehearse for our missions. Entire enemy compounds have been recreated in order to practice raids before a mission.”

  Willa places her hands against my chest and sits quietly for a moment before whispering, “I want you to come back.”

  Placing a hand over hers, I promise, “Baby, as soon as I step off that plane, I’m on my way to you.”

  Her fingers find their way under my shirt, and she presses her full lips to mine.

  My hands slide up her thighs until I’ve slipped inside her shorts, and I’m using my thumb to rub circles over her clit. Needing to have her one more time before we have to leave, I pick her up and carry her to my room once again.

  Three hours later, neither one of us wants to get out of the bed we’ve made good use of, but we both need to get cleaned up, and Willa needs to check on Ari and get her ready.

  Willa gets up first but doesn’t leave to shower. She pulls the covers back and crawls across the bed before lowering her mouth to my dick. Her long, brown hair falls around her, blocking my view of her mouth on me. Her hands and mouth are heaven, but the slight tickle of her hair dancing over my dick and balls is driving me the best kind of crazy.

  I fist my hands in her hair to pull her off, but she resists. “Willa, I’m going to…”

  Just as I did her, she goes down till I’m touching the back of her throat and sucks long and hard. My orgasm rocks through me, and I release down her throat. Holy mother.

  Hell, now I can’t move.

  Just before we’re to meet Westbrook, I pull my truck into the lot across the road from the movie theater. No, I’m not expecting an ambush, but I’ve made my living being careful, and I’m not going to lapse now. Only when I’ve seen the familiar BMW convertible pull in the lot, do I make my way over.

  Parking behind the sleek car, I step down from the cab and watch as Westbrook climbs out of his own ride. I’m pretty sure I hate this guy, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s a pretentious prick or if it’s because he failed Willa as a husband. Because of how I feel, I’m letting Willa lead here.

  Calm down… if he was husband-of-the-year material, Willa wouldn’t be yours right now. That alone keeps my mouth securely shut.

  Willa gets out of the truck and removes a lethargic and slightly weepy Ari from the back. As I pull out her car seat, I hear Westbrook ask, “What’s wrong with Ariel?”

  “She has strep but has been given antibiotics. She should start feeling better tomorrow.”

  After I awkwardly place the seat in the back of the small car, I return to the truck to retrieve their bags. Westbrook opens the trunk and glances at the gas station about twenty yards away. “I drove straight here
. Would you guys mind if…? I, uh.”

  “Go ahead,” Willa answers.

  The bags are placed in the trunk, and the lid closed before Willa tries to place Ari in the car seat. With little Ari now buckled in, I reach in and lay the stuffed fish on her lap. Poor thing: she didn’t wake up during that whole exchange.

  Standing in front of Willa again, it’s easy to see that she looks nervous. I pull a business card out of my wallet and hand it to her. “This is Chase McDaniel’s number. If anything happens, anything at all, you call him.”

  Willa takes the card. Her chin is up, and she looks like she’s good to go… all except the slight quiver to her bottom lip.

  Damn. I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me. With my lips pressed to her temple, I tell her, “I wish I didn’t have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I take her lips in a soft kiss and then force myself to back up one step, then another. Willa has just sat down in the supple, leather seat when I spot Westbrook walking out of the convenience store.

  Without a word to me, he jumps in his car and takes off. “Asshole,” I mutter.

  As he’s pulling out of the parking lot, I can see through the back window where a tiny hand raises and waves a stuffed fish in farewell.

  A sudden pain grips me as I watch them drive away. I swear, it feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest. Rooted to the spot, I blink away the moisture filling my eyes and watch that car until it fades from view. Those two are a part of me now, and I don’t think I could live without them.

  When I’m finally able to make myself move, I go to my house to pack some gear and head to base a little early.

  While sitting alone in the conference room, I force my mind from thoughts of Willa and Ari. It’s time to focus on the mission. It’s a difficult task until I remind myself that these missions are as much for their safety and security as well as every other person living under the American flag.

  I’ve gotten myself back on track just before the door to the conference room opens. Commander O’Reilly walks in with a curious expression on his face. “Early, Lieutenant? How are your girls?”

  “I just put them in a car with her ex-husband. They’re on their way to Bethesda.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good. Neither do I. We’ve got work to do.”

  O’Reilly sits down and begins setting out materials for the mission. Closer to the scheduled meeting time, the remaining members of my team start trickling in. Once everyone’s seated, the commander begins by laying out a map.

  “The U.S. and Norwegian governments have sent a joint exploratory team to the small archipelago of Kongsoya in the Barents Sea. Their purpose is to confirm the existence of fossil fuels and study the feasibility of extraction. Six hours ago, while the scientists were simultaneously running tests on a ship and onshore, they came under attack from a vessel carrying mercenaries posing as protestors. The exploration crew is trapped on the island, and there are injuries. Their seven-hundred-million-dollar icebreaker ship has run aground, and the stern is submerged.

  “Further exacerbating the situation is the twenty-four-hour darkness this time of year. An exploratory team normally wouldn’t be sent out until after the spring equinox, but the U.S. and Norwegian governments wanted to beat the rush, so to speak.

  “Officers from Aerith Energy, the company funding the expedition, say that encountering protestors is not uncommon but past protests have never been violent. The Kongsoya crew was attacked with small arms and stun grenades. Because of that, the State Department believes that the attack is actually being carried out by mercenaries hired by competing government energy interests.

  “Your job is to take out the attack squad that has the scientists pinned down and treat the wounded. Once you clear the way, evac and recovery crews will be brought in.”

  He points to a position on the map. “The team is pinned down on the western part of the island, right at the heel of the cowboy boot shape.” Pointing to another, smaller one of the archipelagos, he adds, “You will airdrop halfway between Kongsoya and a smaller island to the west, Svenskoya.”

  Having covered the plan, he leans back in his chair and looks at each one of us. “You drop in, blow the shit out of that boat, get to shore, radio for extraction, and treat the wounded. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Now figure out what you’ll do when things go pear-shaped. You leave in one hour.”

  And that’s what we do. Plan A is always a pipe dream. SEALs always go in with a plan B, C, and D. And if plan D fails, you just blow shit up and get the hell out. Fortunately, we haven’t had to resort to such drastic measures… yet.

  The last thing I do before boarding the plane is to text Omen.

  My team has been called out on an emergency. Willa has your number.

  His reply is immediate.

  We’ll keep an eye on things here. Good hunting.

  The whole team will sleep during the ten-hour flight across the Atlantic. Once we hit Oslo, the mission begins. We’ll land at Værnes Air Station and switch to a C-17 loaded with two boats, medical supplies, and other gear. Approximately three hours after that, we and the boats will be dropped into the icy waters of the Barents Sea.

  Night drops in open ocean are one thing. A night drop into thirty-seven-degree water with chunks of ice all around is something else entirely. That’s why we’ll have two boats equally stocked, in case one is dashed on a mini-iceberg.

  At some point during the flight over the Atlantic, the sound of approaching steps pulls me from sleep. A look at my watch tells me we’ve been flying for eight hours, and I’ve been asleep for five. “Sir, this just came in.”

  He hands me a paper, and I scan the contents. So… it looks like we skip right to plan E.

  I wake the rest of my team to brief them on the new situation. “The attack vessel has landed and seems to have taken the explorer team captive. Their purpose is not known at this point. It could be assassination of the entire team or a hijacking of their operations to obtain their research. In either case, it doesn’t look good for the team. Operationally, dropping into the water behind them won’t work anymore. With their attention no longer toward the beach, we can’t shield our approach. Also, due to the fast ice on the shoreline, we can’t approach from the north or south without being seen. Our only option is to drop onto a central plain on the island and hike the six miles to their position.

  “Because of this change, we won’t be going to Oslo. This bird is turning and will drop us on the island in four hours.”

  Wrench raises his hand as I pull out our maps and charts. “Tell me again why we even bother making a plan A.”

  Ignoring him, we begin studying the map of the largest landmass in the Kong Karls Land group of islands. As the best climber in the group, Skin should be the one to have the final word on our trail plan, and I say so.

  After a brief moment of studying the topography, Skin goes over his plan to attack the mountain, referencing specific areas as he goes. “Par for the course, there’s no good route over or around the mountain. It may be just six miles, but it won’t be quick. We’re looking at a ten to twelve-hour climb in the dark. After we land, we’ll scale the plateau wall at the shallowest point and travel along the outer perimeter at a distance of fifty yards from the edge. After that, we have to go vertical. Remember, these aren’t like the mountains in Kodiak. These rock faces have been smoothed by the regular sliding of ice down the sides.”

  To his evaluation, I add, “Speed and stealth are important, but I also don’t want to have to replace any of your sorry asses.”

  Skin resumes covering details of the route he’s selected and how to adapt the use of our equipment in these conditions. Once everyone is clear on the plan, he hands the meeting back over to me.

  “Once we reach the ridge at the tip of the heel, we’ll stop to locate the positions of the explorers and the mercs. If this
is a case of a hijacked expedition, they could be spread out, so keep your eyes open.”

  As prepared as we can be, we stand and change into our arctic gear. Forty minutes before the drop, each man secures his fifty pounds of gear and his chute.

  From this point until drop time, each man will take some time to prepare in his own way. Bandaid likes to go through a mental checklist of the medical equipment he has on hand, and Wrench diagrams engines in his head. Some write letters and some pray, I think.

  The mystery is Devil. He always sits quietly, holding on to a white envelope.

  I used to ask him what was in it, but he always refused to say. After a while, I gave up asking when I saw the hurt on his face.

  My normal routine is to go over contingency plans, emergency evacuations, that sort of thing. This time, my thoughts are consumed with Willa, how she moves, her voice, her eyes.

  It occurs to me that this is the first time that a woman has invaded my thoughts on a mission. I’ve had women in my life, but for the life of me, I can’t conjure a picture of any of their faces.

  Willa, though… Willa, I can see clearly, the flush on Willa’s cheeks and chest as I kiss my way down her body, the way she whispered my name as she came, the way her eyes burned with desire.

  God, I hope this goes fast. I need to get back to her.

  With minutes to go, a prep team works their careful dance to get us in position and ready to jump. The rest of the time seems to pass in a flash before I’m standing at the open door. It’s time for the flight of the frogmen.

  Receiving the “go” signal, I’m the first to dive off the jump deck. It’s a precision jump with all men landing within a ten-foot target zone after a cold fall. In seconds, the canvases are stowed, and jump harnesses removed. Next, we don our climbing gear.

  “Skin, take point on the climb. If there’s an area we can’t negotiate, you’ll recognize it before any of us would.”

  It takes two hours to climb to the plateau and reach the vertical face of the mountain. Not knowing when we’ll be able to stop again, we take a short break to hydrate and consume some calories. The eight hours or so that it’ll take to traverse the mountain to the ridge will test the physical and mental readiness of this team beyond anything we’ve ever done.