Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1)

by N. A. Alcorn

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Gunfire echoes inside of the darkened hallway.

  Looks like the Arturo clan moves slightly quicker than anticipated...

  “GHOST, ACE, THE PACKAGE IS secured and we’re coming in hot,” Slade says, updating his other teammates that they’re en route and they have company.

  “Roger that. Trigger’s ready,” Jack voices.

  Both snipers have already relocated to the south entrance of the compound and are ready to utilize their infamous sniper skills. They are completely camouflaged within the brush that surrounds the compound. Andrew and Jack observe four trucks heading towards the south entrance of the compound—each vehicle holding eight men and visibly armed with assault rifles—approximately eight hundred yards out.

  “Alpha two, this is Black Mamba. Five frogs coming in hot with the package. Two will clear. Eagle Eyes requesting a decoy with an alternate location,” Andrew informs their ground transportation and gives them insight to their current situation. Shit isn’t going as planned, and in true SEAL fashion, they always find a way to work around it.

  The snipers receive verification immediately. “Roger that, Black Mamba. Decoy is a go.”

  “Alpha two is en route. Alternate decoy in place,” Andrew informs his team.

  “Roger that, Ace. Medic needed for the packages,” Slade verbalizes as he follows behind Smith.

  Nix clutches Sloan’s limp body tight in his arms as his combat boots make quick work of the tunnel. The sounds of the SEALs’ footsteps echo quietly off the murky, cement walls. More gunfire emanates from behind them as male voices shout in Spanish about the two missing females from cell five.

  Both snipers continue to pick off any targets that reside on the outside perimeter with precision, doing their best to keep their Team’s exit path clear.

  “Ghost, I’m on the move,” Andrew updates Jack as he leaves his camouflaged perch.

  His medic skills are a dire necessity for Sloan’s survival. He reaches the Humvee that resides twenty feet from the south entrance without difficulty, his fellow sniper covering his back.

  “You’re coming in hot, Black Mamba. Hit the ground running, boys. Your ground transport is twenty feet away,” Andrew voices to his Team once he’s inside the Humvee—ready and waiting.

  Nix whispers into Sloan’s ear, “Stay with me, baby. Don’t give up.” Then he proceeds to throw her limp body over his shoulder so he can better access his weapon.

  Julian tells Alejandra, “It’s going to get heated, doll,” and then continues to do the same—placing her body securely over his broad shoulders. With both women firmly in their strong hold, Nix and Julian grasp their M4s, prepared for their exit.

  The five Black Mamba SEALs—along with two forms of female cargo—find their way out of the south entrance of the Arturo compound as gunfire continues to resonate behind them, each echoing shot moving closer. They find their new exit vehicle mere feet from the door. Jack continues to clear their path while all five SEALs climb in with Sloan and Alejandra in their protective hold.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Rob shouts to their ground transport’s driver.

  Jack stays back, continuing to pick off Hector’s men with ease while he patiently waits for the decoy. Once the real ground transport—containing all but one member of Black Mamba—leaves, the decoy pulls up. Two Marines hang out of the Humvee’s windows, clearing Jack’s path, as five of Hector’s men run out of the south entrance door with guns blazing. Bullets ricochet off the impermeable vehicle’s frame. The Marines handle them with ease, promptly putting a bullet into each of them within the blink of an eye.

  The decoy drives away with the four trucks holding Hector Arturo’s men following ignorantly in their wake. They recklessly trail the wrong vehicle—under the impression that it holds their two hostages.

  Arturo’s men obliviously head in the direction of fifty pissed-off Marines ready and waiting to go to war.

  NIX HELPS ANDREW ADJUST SLOAN’S body in the back seat as the medic swiftly pulls supplies from his pack. Her life is in the balance, every shallow breath becoming weaker by the second.

  “Check her pulse,” Andrew instructs Nix as he acquires intravenous access in her right arm.

  Her veins are clamped down from her body’s visible state of shock. Her skin is cool and clammy to the touch; her normally olive complexion is ominously pale.

  His fingers feel along her delicate neck, her pulse weak under his anxious fingers.

  Nix can barely get the words past his lips. “Twenty-eight beats per minute.”

  “She’s lost a lot of blood,” Andrew voices as he takes inventory of her injuries.

  His hands quickly attend to her thigh wound with a pressure dressing, promptly stopping further blood flow. The bumpy terrain jostles them inside the confined space of the Humvee as Andrew does his best to stabilize Sloan.

  “We’re two miles out from your chopper. There are additional medics on board,” a Marine in the front passenger’s seat call back towards them.

  Andrew begins to bolus Sloan with copious amounts of intravenous fluids as he checks another pulse.

  “The decoy worked. We’re one mile out!” Their driver yells while keeping his eyes on the road.

  Nix frantic eyes take in Sloan’s condition, praying to God and everything that is holy to help her hang on, to give her the strength to pull through this. He leans down as his strong fingers wrap around her limp hand, his lips brushing her bruised temple.

  “I’m right here, Meli. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you. Hold on, baby. Please hold on,” he whispers into her ear, desperation apparent in his tone.

  Andrew proceeds to tend to her injuries, continuously checking her vitals as the Humvee speeds over the bumpy terrain with quick efficiency. Every occupant in the vehicle is aware of Sloan’s rapidly declining state.

  Their chopper escort is updated quickly by the navigator of the Humvee. “Glimmer Three, this is Alpha Two. Expect six frogs, the package, and an additional female cargo to arrive at 0421 hours. Medics needed on standby.”

  The awaited response is immediate. “Roger that, Alpha Two.”

  Julian glances back, taking in Nix’s current grief-stricken state. “I know this fucking Humvee can move faster than this!” he yells towards the driver.

  “We’re eight hundred yards out!” the driver calls back.

  Time continues to pass at a goddamn snail’s pace as Nix watches her—his Sloan, his Meli, his everything—barely surviving with each feeble beat of her heart.

  TWO FLIGHT MEDICS MEET THe Humvee once they reach the chopper’s location. They assist Nix and Andrew in securing Sloan on the gurney and transporting her inside the cabin.

  Andrew promptly updates the flight medics. “Multiple lacerations and bruises all over her body. One visible bullet still embedded inside her right thigh and a moderate sized graze to her shoulder. Pressure dressing applied to both. Blood loss unknown. IV access secured and one liter of fluid already infused. Last heart rate was in the twenties.”

  “Track marks?” the younger medic questions as he examines her exposed arm.

  “We’re not sure what substances were forced into her system. Definitely heroin intravenously, but that’s all we know.”

  Nix watches Andrew and the two flight medics work on Sloan. They move at a quick pace, hooking her up to an EKG and placing an oxygen mask over her face. He sits beside her, helpless and practically losing his mind over the idea of losing her. His strong fingers never let go of her limp hand as he quietly whispers into her ear for her to pull through.

  “Sinus bradycardia. Her pulse is in the twenties. Administer atropine.”

  Atropine is administered in hopes of increasing her weak pulse.

  “Blood on board?” Andrew questions.

  “Four units of O negative.”

  “Let’s hang it. She’s in hypovolemic shock from the blood loss she’s sustained over the past forty-eight hours,” Andrew answers.

 
The first unit of O negative is promptly hung, running into her wide-open vein.

  The heart rate on the EKG monitor begins to slow…

  “Come on, Meli,” Nix frantically urges as his heart nearly wrenches out of his chest. God, it hurts. It hurts to even look at her. The entire situation reminds him of that terrible nightmare he had over a month ago.

  I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped her from going on this mission, he irrationally thinks to himself. He hates that he didn’t stop her, regretfully wondering if he would have given in to this gut feeling if everything would be different…

  The pain is nearly unbearable. Seeing his normally feisty and vibrant and sassy girl lying on the gurney, lifeless and nonresponsive, might as well be a knife slicing straight into his already battered heart.

  “She’s in V-Tach! We need to shock!” The medic’s voice booms inside of Nix’s head.

  “Everyone clear!” Andrew shouts as he holds the paddles to her chest.

  Nix’s fingers let go of her limp hand as he sees her body starting to give up, as he watches the only woman he’s ever loved slowly dying before his frantic eyes.

  “She’s in asystole!”

  “God damnit! Come on!” Andrew curses as he begins chest compressions while one medic ventilates her airway and the other promptly administers epinephrine into her IV.

  Nix sits helpless, his vision tunneling as he watches in absolute devastation. Everything begins to blur as tears stream down his cheeks, agony piercing his soul.

  And he begins to pray. He prays for her life or his death—anything that will save her. He doesn’t care which. He just wants her to live. He wants her russet eyes to have another chance to flash their feisty glimmer and her beautiful lips to spout their infamous sassy banter.

  Fuck, he just wants her.

  No! No! No! Please, God, no! Don’t let me lose her, his heart weeps. She’s dying right in front of me and there isn’t a fucking thing I can do.

  Save her! Fucking save her!

  He holds her hand and sobs, not caring that his Teammates—his brothers—are seeing him fall to pieces. The only thing he can focus on is her hand—her limp, delicate hand that rests within his anxious fingers. His mind is no longer able to process coherent thoughts or even the simplest of words. He sits motionless as he dies a thousand deaths while watching his own worst nightmare become a reality. His mind falls deeper into the blackness—into a world without Sloan.

  THE HUMAN BODY IS A miraculous thing.

  Sometimes, it can survive the very worst situations, but sometimes, no matter the strength or determination of the soul, survival isn’t a possibility.

  BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

  The incessant monitors fill the room, serving as a constant reminder. Nix sits slouched in a chair beside her bed, never leaving Sloan’s bedside. His eyes are highlighted by prominent dark circles. His body still dressed in his military fatigues, he won’t even take the time to leave her side to change his clothes and shower. His face is unshaven, his hair disheveled.

  He clutches her hand tight within his grasp, willing her to open her eyes, willing her to come back to him. “I love you, Meli. I love you so much that I can barely fucking breathe. I’m dying inside watching the days pass without being able to hold you in my arms or kiss your perfect mouth or have your sassy little ass bust my balls.” A saddened smile encompasses his worn-down, tired face.

  “Remember Nerf Wars?” he asks quietly in her direction. “I’ll never forget you strutting out of your front door with that mischievous smile covering your face and not a stitch of clothing covering your perfect fucking body.” He shakes his head in amusement thinking back on that memory. “You shocked every guy who stood in your yard, ready to take you out of the game. Hell, I’m pretty sure we all stood there frozen in place with our teenage dicks practically busting through our zippers.” He laughs lightly. It’s the first laugh that’s passed his lips in what seems like forever.

  “I knew in that moment that I was in love with you. I knew that you were the one and only girl who would ever have that piece of me. And you know what, baby? I was right. I was so fucking right.” Nix leans forward and softly presses his lips against her warm cheek. “It’s only been you. It will always be you. Always,” he whispers against her skin. His warm breath brushes past her ear.

  The only response he receives is the continuous beep, beep, beep that echoes off the gray hospital walls. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, her body showing no signs of responsiveness to his touch or his words.

  A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his seat, startled by the unexpected visitor. He looks up to see Julian standing beside him.

  “You need some fresh air, Boss. She’s stable and I know she would want you to get some fresh air,” he demands.

  “I’m not fucking leaving her,” Nix responds sharply.

  “Come on. I promise she’ll be fine. I’ll even sit here with her while you go grab a cup of coffee or something,” Julian adamantly urges as he motions for him to stand.

  “I can’t… I just can’t leave her.” Nix’s voice is broken as his eyes refuse to leave her prone form.

  “Yes, you can. I promise it’s going to be okay.”

  Nix sighs heavily, even the simple process of exhaling feeling like the most impossible task. He finally pulls his eyes away from Sloan and turns in his chair, facing Julian. That’s when he realizes that not only is Julian standing by his side, but so are Slade and Andrew and Rob. Four of his closest brothers refusing to leave his side—refusing to leave Texas—until Sloan’s condition improves.

  He hesitantly stands to his feet, eyeing Julian with a stern expression. “Stay here. Don’t fucking leave her side. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  Julian fights the smirk that threatens to turn his lips. He’s thankful for the small victory and only nods in response to Nix’s strict words.

  Nix slowly walks out of the room, glancing back at Sloan several times before finally moving past the doorway with three of his closest friends.

  Julian sits down beside Sloan, his emerald eyes looking down at the serene expression on her face. The hospital room and her unconscious state threaten to flood a rush of painful memories into his mind. Memories he’s refused to think about. Memories he strives to forget. He closes his eyes and takes a resounding breath, digging deep for the strength to focus on the present. After a few minutes, he’s back in the here and now and his past full of painful memories is pushed back down into the depths of his soul.

  “You know, I thought I was going to have to drag his ass out of here kicking and screaming. He hasn’t left your side since we got you out of that shithole,” he whispers in her direction as he grasps her hand in his.

  “He loves you, you know. Fuck, of course you know,” he chuckles lightly. “You’ve got that man by the fucking balls. The strongest, most courageous guy I’ve ever met is wrapped around your little fingers. He won’t leave here until you do. So I think it’s time you channel that fiery-as-fuck personality you’ve got buried deep inside of you and come back to us…come back to him. He needs you, doll. Nix needs you.” Julian bows his head and rests it against the side rail of Sloan’s hospital bed as he continues to clutch her hand in his.

  Minutes tick by as he silently prays for the first time in his life. He prays for her, he prays for Nix, and he prays for two people who deserve to be together. Two people who deserve a chance at their happy ending.

  As her monitors continue to play their familiar beeping tune—and Julian silently stays at Sloan’s side—the slightest twitch of her delicate fingers vibrates the palm of his hand. His eyes abruptly glance down at their conjoined hands before moving to her face, and that’s when he sees it—the teeniest, tiniest smile works at the corners of her pink lips.

  And he knows.

  It’s only a matter of time before Nix gets his Meli back.

  THE FAINT BEEP, BEEP, BEEP from the various machines Sloan is hooked up to resonate
inside the room. Her eyelids flutter open as the sound of a door shutting stirs her sleeping state. She observes Chief Dubois striding inside and making himself comfortable on the chair that rests beside her bed.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks. His eyes show concern, yet the tone of his voice reveals his normally straight-to-the-point and stark demeanor.

  “Like I got shot two times, kidnapped, tortured, and drugged,” she rasps out through the dryness that permeates her mouth.

  As she attempts to adjust her lying form into a sitting position, Sloan winces from the incredible discomfort that radiates from every nerve ending in her body. She’s on the mend, but the road to recovery will definitely take some time. The moment she landed in Texas, she was rushed back to surgery to fix the horrendous job that had been performed on her gunshot injuries.

  Two soft chuckles escape Chief Dubois’s lips. “I’d say that’s a fair assessment of your situation.” He pauses for a moment and stares straight into her eyes. “I’m glad that we got you out of there,” he announces quietly.

  It’s tough for a man like Chief Dubois to reveal a soft, caring side, but he’d never been more relieved when he got the call that Black Mamba had Sloan—she was alive, and they were Air-Caring her straight to Texas for treatment.

  Sloan nods in understanding as he fidgets in his seat, his discomfort noticeable.

  “So did the job get finished?” she questions after taking a sip of water from the Styrofoam cup that rests on the bedside table.

  His visible awkwardness of having his form of a heart-to-heart slowly dissipates as Sloan takes the conversation towards more comfortable territories. “Yes. After you were and Alejandra Arturo retrieved—“

  She cuts him off, shocked by that omission. “Alejandra is in the States?”

  He nods. “She’s actually here, in this hospital, recovering,” he updates but is stopped again.