by Elle James
“I’d say slim to none,” Diesel replied. “From what I’ve seen so far, only the attendees will be allowed into the auditorium. I assume they’ll have tight security around the conference center.”
“We had orders to come provide any help we can,” Big Jake said.
“But we aren’t supposed to be here, so we weren’t allowed to carry weapons,” Harm added.
“What good can we be without firepower?” Pitbull asked.
“You can let us know if you see, hear or smell trouble,” Diesel said.
“That means we’ll be the eyes, ears and noses.” Buck lightly backhanded Diesel in the belly as he passed him and bent to the equipment T-Mac was laying out on the floor. “I’ll take one of those.”
“I figured you might have lost yours in your run through the jungle.” T-Mac handed Diesel one of the tiny radio headsets that fit in the ear and that would pick up the sound of his voice, providing two-way communication.
“Great. Did you bring an extra for Reese?” Diesel asked. “I probably won’t be allowed into the conference center with her and Klein, but I’d like to keep in contact.”
“I’m a step ahead of you.” T-Mac held up a small earbud that would fit easily into her ear. “She could cover it with her hair.”
Diesel took the earbud. “I believe we have a couple hours before the actual conference begins. I’d like to recon the area around the convention hall, find all the entrances and where they lead. If something goes down, we need to get Reese, Klein and as many of the attendees out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.”
“We can do that first and then find coffee,” Big Jake said.
“You’re hurting me, B.J.,” Harm said.
T-Mac handed him a headset. “You’ll live.”
“Not unless I get a cup of coffee soon.” Harm pressed the earpiece into his ear and slipped his arms into a button-down, short-sleeved cotton shirt. “Let’s get this recon done soon. I have a date with a cuppa jo.”
“I could do with a cup of coffee, too.” Reese stepped out of the bedroom, wearing a sleek, gray jacket and slim-fitting, stretchy skirt that wouldn’t hamper her movements.
All six men turned in her direction.
Diesel frowned at the hungry looks in their eyes. Hell, he couldn’t blame them. She was beautiful.
She left her hair hanging down around her ears and shoulders, and she wore matching gray high-heeled shoes.
“Wow, you look like you could take on the United Nations in that getup,” Buck said.
T-Mac whistled. “Dang, Diesel, I’d have gone for a run in the jungle if I’d known Reese was going with me, too.”
Diesel’s fists clenched. “Knock it off. She’s here to do a job.” He smiled. “Though, you do look like you could take on the entire conference and kick ass.”
Reese blushed and smiled. “Thanks. All of you.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to touch base with Ferrence. We’ll probably go to breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I’d invite all of you to join us, but then everyone would know you’re with us.”
Buck sighed. “Have a couple of eggs over easy for me, will ya?”
“And a cup of black coffee for me,” Harm said, giving up on the coffee maker the hotel provided each room.
Diesel handed Reese the earbud headset. “Try this on.”
“What is it?”
“A two-way radio. You’ll be able to contact us, and we can contact you.”
She nodded and settled the communication device in her ear.
“Go ahead and try it,” T-Mac said, pressing a similar earbud into his ear.
“Testing,” Reese said. “Testing.”
“I can hear you. Let’s see if you can hear me.” T-Mac stepped outside the hotel room and walked down the hallway.
Diesel closed the door.
Reese stared at Diesel, tipping her head to the side. “I can hear you,” she said, smiling.
T-Mac opened the door. “You’re good to go.”
Reese tapped her ear. “Thanks.” She glanced at Diesel’s bare chest. “Are you coming with us?”
He nodded. “As far as I can.”
“I doubt I can get you into the conference, but you can join us for breakfast, since we’ve already established you as my fiancé.”
“Fiancé?” Pitbull grinned. “Something you aren’t telling us, dude?”
“Would you care to explain, while I finish dressing?” Diesel passed by Reese on his way to the bedroom.
Behind him, he heard Reese clear her throat. “Staying here was all part of his cover. Otherwise, he would have had to get a room somewhere farther away.”
“Uh-huh,” Buck said, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Perfectly reasonable.”
Diesel jammed his arms into the shirt, pulled on his socks and shoes and tucked in his shirt, in a hurry to get back to the sitting room before his teammates could further embarrass Reese. He buttoned his shirt and returned to the other room, handing his tie to Reese. “Could you?”
She wrapped the tie around his neck and made quick work of the knot at his throat. When she was done, she stood back. “Ready?”
He nodded and held out his arm. “I’ll contact you guys later. Let me know what you find.”
“Will do.” Big Jake gave him a mock salute.
On his way out of the room, Diesel hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outer doorknob.
Reese stepped across the hall and rapped on Klein’s door.
Her client opened it, carrying a plain black briefcase and wearing a tailored charcoal-gray suit. “I was just about to come get you. I scored a breakfast with President Sabando’s chief of staff. I hope to come out of breakfast having scheduled a meeting with the president himself.” He handed the briefcase to Reese. “I’ll need you to take notes.”
“Do we need a translator?” she asked.
“No, he speaks English, having been educated at Harvard.”
Diesel followed Reese and Klein to the hotel restaurant, where they met with Sabando’s chief of staff, a tall, thin, dark man. He spoke English with an American accent.
A waiter led them to a table in the corner.
Diesel gave half of his attention to the conversation, while scanning the occupants of the restaurant.
So far, no one stood out as a threat. But then he didn’t expect to find one yet. If anyone wanted to make the news, they’d wait until all the foreign dignitaries had arrived for the conference. Based on the number of Congolese soldiers at the social the night before, the conference center would be well guarded.
Still, Diesel felt better knowing part of his team would be there should anyone make a move on the delegates, Reese or Klein. He only wished they could have come armed. But then, how would they explain navy SEALs at a conference to which they weren’t invited? The African Union might consider it a sign of aggression if they came in with their guns a-blazing. No, it was better they were unarmed and supposedly there on vacation. They didn’t need to cause an international incident. And he knew his brothers—they’d have knives strapped to their ankles. They wouldn’t be completely unarmed.
By the end of breakfast, Klein had his meeting scheduled for the day after the conference. He rose from the table, appearing quite pleased.
Sabando’s chief of staff excused himself, claiming he needed to be available for the president when he arrived at the conference center.
Klein paid the bill. The three of them left and walked down the long hallway to the huge conference center attached to the hotel. Every twenty feet, they passed armed soldiers.
Other dignitaries and their entourages walked the long hall, as well. The conference would begin in less than thirty minutes. Dignitaries and their assistants hurried into the auditorium to take their assigned seats.
Reese and Klein checked in with the registration desk and were given badges to clip to their collars.
Diesel bent to kiss her and whispered. “I’ll be waiting out here. But I’ll be with you all the time.”
She nodded and stood on her toes to kiss him again. Then she entered the auditorium behind Klein.
Diesel stood back far enough not to attract attention from the guards standing on either side of the entrance, weapons held at the ready.
Other members of dignitaries’ entourages remained outside the auditorium, claiming seats on benches against the walls or pacing the corridors, talking quietly into their cell phones.
“Comm check,” T-Mac said through Diesel’s radio.
“Diesel here,” he responded.
“Reese here,” a whispered feminine voice said.
Diesel’s heart swelled at the sound. “Damn, you sound sexy,” he answered.
“Thank you. My momma always said I had a lady-killer voice,” T-Mac responded.
“Jerk,” Diesel said, a smile tugging at his lips.
He heard a feminine chuckle in his headset, warming him all over. Knowing they were in communication made him feel better about being separated from her, but he’d rather be seated next to her, in case someone got trigger-happy.
Other members of the team checked in, one by one.
“Pitbull here, sweetlips.”
“Big Jake here,” Big Jake reported. “Our check of the exterior of the conference center yielded three entrances—all heavily guarded by Congolese soldiers.”
“Buck, here. Harm and I walked the connecting hallway earlier and counted three more entrances from inside. One of the doors leading off the far end of the hallway leads to a staircase down into the parking garage. As does an elevator. Parking garage has four levels below the convention center.”
“They have guards at each of the levels checking people getting on and off the elevators or staircases.”
The team had done well on their recon mission. Now all they could do was stand around and wait for something to happen that raised concern. They were men of action. Waiting would be a challenge. But, if Diesel had his way, they’d wait all day for nothing.
He’d rather have the day pass uneventfully than see problems arise with the conference attendees. Especially one named Reese Brantley.
Diesel paced the hallway, passing each of the three interior entrances. All three were guarded by two soldiers each. Minutes passed into one hour, and then two. Diesel didn’t like being on the outside, away from Reese. What if someone had gotten past the guards? What if the fight started from within? None of the delegates were armed. They’d be cut down like fish in a bowl.
The longer he waited, the more worried he became, until he found himself standing in front of the door in which Reese and Klein had entered. The guards narrowed their eyes and tightened their grips on their weapons.
Chapter Ten
Reese sat beside Ferrence, silently watching the proceedings, listening in one ear to the interpreter through the headset she’d been given, while also straining to hear news on anything going on outside the conference center.
She’d studied the Congolese military men when she’d stepped through the doors of the auditorium. Two guards on the door didn’t seem to be a lot. But then, she’d heard the team’s report on those on the outside. Still, for the number of delegates at the meeting, she would have thought Sabando would have had more of a show of force in the streets.
“Harm here. I’m going farther out from the conference center to see if anything’s happening in the streets. I’ll circle around two or three blocks out.”
“We’ll cover the corners of the exterior,” another one of the men reported.
On edge from the potential of hostilities, Reese was slightly comforted by the knowledge the SEALs were watching their backs. Though they were unarmed, they would provide a significant warning system should trouble arise outside the building.
“As the president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, what are you doing about the human rights violations happening at the Metro mines?” The English interpreter translated the words of the female representative from Rwanda, who spoke directly to the DRC president in French.
Reese focused her attention on the president’s response. He answered in French, the translation coming through moments later from the English interpreter.
President Sabando leaned into his microphone and answered with authority.
The interpreter translated, “I have my people looking into this.”
“While your people are looking into it, men, women and children are dying. Young children under the age of ten are dying in those mines and have been for years. Why are you not doing anything to prevent this?” the woman asked.
Sabando lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes just a little before answering, “Policy moves slowly in this country. I am working on it. These people make their living working the mines. If we take away their living, they will starve.”
The representative from Zambia spoke in English, “Food aid is available. Small children do not have to work in harsh conditions to eat.”
“The rebels intercept the rations to these people. They are part of the problem,” President Sabando replied.
The woman from Rwanda met Sabando’s glare with a steady, unbending one of her own and spoke in rapid-fire French. The translator struggled to keep up, but the message was clear. “Rumor has it your military is intercepting the rations, not the rebels.”
President Sabando pounded his fist on the table in front of him and fired back. The interpreter translated with the appropriate intonation. “Bosco Mutombo is responsible for stopping the food to the people. He steals from the people of the Democratic Republic of the Congo!”
“He claims he steals from your forces, taking the food away from them to give back to the people.” The president’s brother, Lawrence Sabando, entered the auditorium in full military regalia of the Congolese Army, speaking in English.
“He lies!” President Sabando stood so fast his chair fell over behind him. He pointed his finger at his brother and shouted in English. “And you would spread these lies because Mutombo works for you!”
“Tell the people of the African Union why you won’t allow elections.” The president’s brother shook his fist. “Tell them!”
President Sabando stood tall, his chest puffed out, his chin held high. “Because the nation is unsettled. An election now would cause riots in the streets.”
“There are already riots in the streets,” his brother reasoned. “You can’t control the change happening in our country. The people will prevail.”
Riveted by the power struggle going on between the two brothers, Reese almost missed the change in stance of the guards surrounding the room. “We might have trouble inside the auditorium,” she whispered, hoping the mic on her headset was sensitive enough to pick up her voice.
“Holy crap. Harm here. We have trouble coming in from the streets. A massive movement of people, who appear to be led by rebel forces, are on the march toward the conference center. Rebels are armed. Civilians have whatever they could get their hands on, from hunting rifles to axes and pitchforks. Must be a couple thousand.”
Reese’s heart leaped, and she stared around the room full of dignitaries, for a moment, at a loss for what to do.
“ETA?” Diesel’s reassuring voice sounded in her ear.
“Two or three minutes before they arrive,” he said, sounding as if he were running. “I’m closing ranks with the team.”
“What should we do?” Reese asked.
“Get Klein to the south door,” Diesel said. “The one to the far right of the door you entered.”
“What about the rest of the delegates?” she asked.
Ferrence leaned close to her. “What’s going on?”
Reese brought him up to date in a whisper. “We need to get out of here and seek shelter.”
“If we stand up in the middle of the Sabandos’ arguments, we’ll draw too much attention.”
“Did you hear that?” Reese asked into her mic.
“I don’t care,” Diesel said. “Get up and leave before things get hot on the inside, as well
as the outside, of the auditorium.”
“Going,” Reese replied. Then she gripped Ferrence’s hand tightly and shot him a stern stare. “Either you come with me now, or risk being trapped in this building when all hell breaks loose.” She let go of him and gathered her notebook and pen, smiled at the people next to her and stood, hunkering low to keep from being too obvious.
She didn’t get far before the shouting became more intense.
“You will hold elections on time, or the people will have their say,” the president’s brother yelled, fist waving in the air.
The president remained firm. “These people do not know what is good for them. They are uneducated. The country is not stable. Elections will cause chaos, I tell you.”
“By not holding the elections as is mandated in our constitution, you will bring chaos down on all of us.” Lawrence nodded toward one of the guards by the door.
The man raised his weapon and started firing over the heads of the crowd of delegates.
As soon as Reese saw the man raise his weapon, she grabbed Ferrence’s arm and pushed him to the floor, covering his body with hers. “Get down,” she yelled as loudly as she could. “Shots fired,” she said, as if Diesel might not have heard the gunfire.
President Sabando dropped to the floor. “Are you insane?” he yelled to his brother.
“No, I’m determined to return the power to the people. This is a democratic republic, not a dictatorship. It is time for the tyrant to step down and be held accountable for his crimes!”
“This cannot be happening,” Ferrence said, from his position beneath Reese. “I have an important meeting with the president tomorrow.”
“Really?” Reese said, sliding to the side to poke her head up and assess the situation. “That’s all you can think about when your life is in danger?” People were screaming and dropping to the floor.
“My father sent me here for one purpose. If I’m not successful, for whatever reason, I’m a failure in his eyes.”
“Cry me a river, Ferrence. I’m getting out of here alive, even if I have to take out a few of these gun-toting terrorists myself.” She eyed the door Diesel had said to head for and mentally estimated forty feet between her and the door. “Look, Ferrence, we’re getting out of here, either you come with me and stand a better chance of living, or stay here and die.”
