by Bella Juarez
Black Ops Brotherhood 6
Tightrope
Navy SEAL Dan Gamez’s plans for extended leave are derailed when he uncovers a plot targeting Homeland Security facilities monitoring illegal traffic along the United States-Mexican border. It’s a doomsday-prepper’s worst nightmare but it’s a day in the life for Dan—until Rio crosses his path and old embers ignite new flames.
Border Patrol Agent Rio Jensen and her team of brush hogs have their hands full stopping the illegal traffic pouring across the US-Mexican border. The last thing she needs is more complications when an old high school crush shows up on her door step.
Dan has a secret he’s never revealed to any lover. With alarming ease, the tiny but fiery CBP agent takes command of his heart. When Rio is targeted by a cartel with terroristic intent, Dan finds himself walking a tightrope to save the woman who understands and accepts him like no other.
Note: This books contains a heroine who is a domme.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 137,244 words
TIGHTROPE
Black Ops Brotherhood 6
Bella Juarez
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
TIGHTROPE
Copyright © 2015 by Bella Juarez
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-386-3
First E-book Publication: June 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
To my family, thank you for tolerating the long hours I spend at keyboard in another world. To the Babes, thank you for your support this past year and for guiding me home again.
Thank you to all who serve in our armed forces and in public service, past and present. Your extraordinary sacrifice to duty gives life to these stories.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
About the Author
TIGHTROPE
Black Ops Brotherhood 6
BELLA JUAREZ
Copyright © 2015
Chapter 1
Nacozari de García, Sonora, Mexico
174 km from the United States border
June 2, 2010/1043 Zulu
Lieutenant Dan Gamez tossed the baggage handed to him into the back of the vehicle. His trained eye scanned the area around his position to see had changed on the runway. This snatch-and-grab would be risky in broad daylight. As a bead of sweat ran down his neck, he shook off the irritation of the long hair he’d grown to blend in with the gang of thugs he and his team had infiltrated. The hard part had been making initial contact without being obvious or seeming too eager. But, with one well-executed bar fight that left no one but them standing, the cartel had come knocking at their door within a few days.
After checking their cover story about being rejected Army Rangers, the cartel gave them small jobs to test their skills. With their former military experience they’d convinced the cartel to let them pull security details for them. Their work paid off, and they were about to get their hands on someone who could help them locate weapons of mass destruction gone missing from a base in Afghanistan. If they hadn’t gotten this assignment, it wouldn’t have matter; they’d simply take their target. However, doing the security detail made this op a lot cleaner. This mission had taken months of surveillance, planning, and in-theater waiting. The SEAL team he served with had been following the dealings of a US-Pakistani diplomat who traveled the world hell-bent on the destruction of the United States.
For the last four years, they’d been working to shut this man down once and for all. So far, they’d managed to stop his efforts to use biological warfare both as a terrorist weapon on US soil and against troops fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq. It had been a complex fight on several fronts. Part of his plan included a cyber-attack on US military personnel records to obtain medical and other classified information. Just when his group, Naval Special Warfare Group 5, thought they’d shut down one of his avenues, another would open. This time, he’d managed to obtain WMDs that would be a doomsday prepper’s nightmare come
to life.
He’d stolen electromagnetic pulse weapons from Russia.
Dan watched two men step out of the aircraft that had just arrived from Houston, Texas. Looking north to one of the bigger hills that surrounded the airstrip, he knew there were two SEAL snipers watching the runway just in case anything went wrong. The Cartel king himself, Ignacio Montenegro, greeted Minister Nayyaf Bakri and ushered him into a separate vehicle. Dan and his crew would be taking Bakri’s secretary and right-hand man in a separate vehicle. The minister’s secretary was their target. His palms itched as he watched the minster’s departure and reminded himself that they’d have another chance, another day. The secretary would know almost as much as the minister did. This man would have critical knowledge that could help aid them in their objective, recovering two cases of EMP devices. Specifically, he would know where the weapons, had been shipped.
“Hurry up! We don’t have all day. I have a meeting I must attend,” the secretary said.
“Sorry, sir. I’m under orders to keep you safe,” Dan replied. The ability to speak fluent Spanish had come in handy for this operation.
“Yes, well, let’s get on with it.”
Two of the SEALs who comprised his covert team got in the front seats while Dan sat next to the secretary in the back. As they drove, he glanced at his watch. They’d be at the designated meeting site soon.
Lord, please don’t let this whole op go to shit in the last five minutes.
Watching for the markers signaling the op was still a go, he searched the horizon for the appearance of a chopper from the Army’s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment or Night Stalkers who would be their ticket home. He spotted his signal as they passed the last marker and tossed his weapon into the back of the Suburban. Moving quicker than his target could process, he grabbed his pistol from the holster strapped around his leg and pointed the muzzle against the secretary’s head. “Don’t move, motherfucker!” he said in English.
The secretary squeaked in terror. A figure rose from behind their detainee and grabbed him around his neck. SEAL medic, Chief Petty Officer Isaac “Doc” Davis administered a tranquilizer directly into the carotid that would keep him quiet the rest of the trip. In seconds, the man slumped over, unconscious.
“Friday, make contact and let them know we’re on our way,” Dan said.
They reached the landing zone, or LZ, but the chopper was nowhere to be found. “What the hell? Where’s that fucking chopper?” Shaq asked as he pulled into the empty field.
They were expected at a resort located in the mountains of the Sonora desert, which gave them a forty-five-minute window. They still had to be vigilant because the cartel patrolled this area for rival gangs trying to use this desolate land for alternate smuggling routes.
“Shit!” Dan snapped. They didn’t need this kind of glitch even if they did have a little time to play with. He dumped the secretary on to the leather seats and opened his door. “Let me check it out. Shaq, when I get out, head to that grove of trees where the snipers are supposed to meet up. Get undercover.”
“Fuck that! Let’s all go over there. You don’t need to be in the open, LT,” Shaq replied.
Dan looked out and scanned the area. He thought he heard the drumming of helicopter rotors and peered into the distance.
“Davis, hand me my weapon. Get the fuck out of here, Shaq!” Dan roared as he slammed his door shut.
The chopper he’d spotted had come from the wrong direction, and it wasn’t the Night Stalker Blackhawk that should’ve been picking them up. Instead, an armed Huey shifted and made a beeline for their position. Shaq floored the gas and headed away from the snipers that should’ve been hiding in the stand of scrubby trees and brush. By moving the vehicle out of the clearing, he’d signaled to the rest of the team that the mission had been jeopardized. He knew the cartel bought advanced weapons to secure their drug and human traffic trade. Best case scenario, the Huey would have automatic guns; worst case, it might be armed with missiles. Either way, the Suburban made them sitting ducks. Dan quickly weighed his options, and the clarity of this mission clicked.
Get the secretary to the drop point.
Dan opted for the safety of the nearby hills and the tiered limestone that jutted out in an uneven pattern, hoping it would offer them some protection. While they waited for the chopper to get closer, he held his breath and watched as the aircraft doubled back and made a beeline for the Suburban.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Shaq said.
The SEAL driving had read Dan’s mind, and without hesitating, they emptied the vehicle and headed for the limestone hills. He prayed the empty vehicle would be enough of a diversion to keep them safe until the Blackhawk arrived.
The two dive buddies exchanged glances, and without words, they tucked the detainee behind them. Dan leveled his weapon hoping he'd get lucky and maybe take out the pilot if they weren’t spotted right away. He mentally remapped the area for another hiding place and a plan on how the hell to get there. Focusing, he lined up his sights with the incoming Huey, knowing the shot would give them away if he missed.
The chopper coming for them suddenly spun out of control. The tail rotor had malfunctioned causing the aircraft to crash into the rocks less than a hundred yards away. Dan, Shaq, Davis, and Friday ducked for cover to avoid the blast’s wave of heat and the noxious scent of fuel. The explosion left the SEALs temporally deaf and mildly disoriented. When Dan regained his equilibrium, he saw the Night Stalker’s Blackhawk coming over the horizon. The secretary had regained consciousness and struggled to stand. The last thing the team needed was for this man to fight, so Dan turned around and punched him, rendering him unconscious once more. As soon as the Blackhawk landed, the four snipers from the grove and the four-man SEAL team with the secretary, piled into the chopper for the trip to the CIA listening station outside of Douglas, Arizona.
With the mission successfully accomplished, the SEAL team caught a flight back to their home base at Randolph Air Force Base near San Antonio, Texas. The team still had a long night ahead of them. They had to debrief the command staff of Special Warfare Group 5 waiting for them.
* * * *
Dan shook off fatigue as the team gathered round the conference table in the captain's office. The debrief had been completed, and Captain O’Malley congratulated the team on a job well done with a tradition Dan had been a part of only once before.
“I want a back brief on this op, lieutenant, on my desk by Monday morning. As soon as I get that report, you three are on mandatory leave for thirty days. I don’t want to see you on the base, understood? Friday, you know the drill. Set us up.”
Petty Officer Montgomery went to a cabinet in the captain’s office and pulled out shot glasses and a bottle of Scotch. He returned to the table and handed each one of the men present a drink. Dan loved this tradition. It meant he and his team had met an extraordinary standard of excellence and had done the job to his captain’s satisfaction. Very high praise, indeed. Captain O’Malley was one of his heroes, and to be in the company of these legendary SEALs was without equal in Dan’s list of accomplishments.
“The only easy day was yesterday.” Captain O’Malley lifted his glass in a toast.
“Hoo-yah!” the men responded as they downed the shot.
“Now get outta here all of you. I’ve got a date tonight.”
* * * *
As he parked his truck, Dan breathed a sigh of relief before getting out. Running his fingers through his long hair, the first order of business tomorrow would be to get it cut and back to the way he liked it. Being a covert operative, he never looked like he was in the military instead he opted for a short spiky ‘do. He opened the door to his apartment and exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. For the first time in six weeks he’d be able to sleep with both eyes closed. He peeled off the grimy camouflage uniform that had pasted itself onto his skin and stepped into the shower.
What am I gonna do with thirty days of free time?
Since coming to NSWG-5, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day off. As he dried himself, he recalled flying over the fence that separated Arizona from Mexico. He’d grown up in the border town of Bisbee, and he remembered his mom had sent him the invitation for his high school reunion scheduled for the Fourth of July weekend.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked into his kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water. The water and a six-pack of beer were the only things he hadn’t thrown out of his fridge before he left. He leaned against the counter and took a long drink of the ice-cold water. The invitation lay exactly where he’d left it weeks ago next to the stack of unopened mail on the breakfast bar. He reached out and stopped, his hand hovering over the engraved note.
Just pick it up, dumbass. It’s only a piece of paper. His hand didn’t move, and he remained frozen in place. Thirty-days’ leave and the perfect excuse to go back home. Sure, why the hell not? Now determined, he picked up the invitation as he took another long swallow from the bottle of water. He read the words engraved on the heavy paper, and the memories played in his mind as clearly as though they had happened hours before instead of years ago.
Had he been twelve then or thirteen? It didn’t matter. He could feel the silken texture of her hair in his hand when he pulled on her long ponytail to get her attention. He chuckled at the memory of how pissed she got when he teased her about her height. He did it deliberately just to experience the fire of her temper. To this day, he remembered the heat. And then there were those times when she would let him hold her. Sure, those were hugs between friends—she was his best friend—but his cock would stand at attention because, even then, it knew better than he did what it wanted.
