Gray Wolf Security: Back Home

by Glenna Sinclair

  Let’s hope this Michaels fellow wasn’t as crazy as me.

  “We’ll need a place to stay once we arrive,” Malik said. He held up his own cellphone and showed me pictures of a hotel in Ensenada. “It’s not on the beach, so it’ll be less crowded than some of the other hotels. And it’s cheap.”

  I nodded. “It’ll be a good base of operations.”

  “What’s the plan?” Andrew asked as he and Jamey moved up to join us.

  Avoiding too many details, I told them about Alison, her husband, and the abuse she’d outlined for Gray Wolf when we first took the case. And the fact that her husband appeared to be on the run from the American courts.

  “My plan is to go in and rescue her, nothing more. We’ll let the feds worry about Case Michaels.”

  “Case Michaels?” Andrew’s eyebrows rose. “I read about him in the paper not too long ago. The man likes to hurt little girls.”

  I inclined my head. “He does.”

  “Then if he gets killed in this operation, it’s not a loss to humanity.”

  Andrew had a little sister who was kidnapped and murdered when they were children. He was sensitive to such things now. I glanced over at Jamey, but he didn’t seem bothered by Andrew’s declaration. Was that something else I was going to have to worry about?

  “The mission is to get the girl. What happens apart from that, happens.” I leaned forward a little. “But try to remember that we’re operating in a foreign country. We don’t want to have to explain a bunch of dead guys to the local cops.”

  Andrew inclined his head, but the fiery look in his eyes remained.

  “They’re staying at an estate just outside the city.” I showed them the blip on my tracking software. “We should be able to get in and out fairly easily.”

  They both nodded, Jamey’s eyes alight with excitement. He loved going out on missions, which was part of the reason he’d left the Marines. It was too restrictive for him, the strict code of the military. The freelance security companies that worked in country appealed to him more. They weren’t as restricted by laws and treaties and whatever else held the military in check.

  Andrew, on the other hand, had always been the one with the cooler head. Also a part of my unit several years back, he was always the one who called for caution. The only exception to that rule was when we faced down someone who was known to be a danger to children. Then he turned into someone who was ten times as dangerous as Jamey.

  I just hoped he could keep his head during this mission.

  Had I made a mistake bringing these old friends in on this assignment? Was Malik right? Should I have reached out to Joss?

  I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t in over my head.

  “We have to get Alison back. That’s all that matters.”

  Chapter 18

  Joss

  I was in my office changing into a clean set of clothes I kept there when someone knocked on the door.

  “Enter!”

  Ash strode through the door looking every bit the Green Beret he’d been more than a decade ago. (Lord, had it really been that long?) He hesitated when he saw that I was partially unclothed, not that anything was visible to him. I had my back turned. But then he took himself to one of the chairs arranged in front of my desk and sat heavily.

  “Couldn’t just spend this Sunday at home with your family, could you?”

  He was half joking, but the part that wasn’t filled with humor caught me a little off guard. I finished buttoning up my blouse and tucked it into my slacks as I walked to the desk, dropping into my own chair.

  “Can’t predict when the bad guys are going to strike.”

  He sat back and studied my face for a moment. “Who was watching the target?”

  “Shaw Knolls.”

  His gaze fell to his hands as he sighed. “I had high hopes for her.”

  “She’s good, Ash. She held her own, but they had a stun gun. Not many people can withstand that.”

  He nodded, tilting his head as his gaze came back up to my face. “But she went after them on her own without contacting us. Have you heard from her?”

  I hesitated, not sure I wanted to tell him the truth. I crossed my arms over my chest and studied his face as intently as he was studying mine.

  “This is my office, Ash. You gave me this office for a reason. Don’t you trust me anymore?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me do my job.”

  Surprise brought a soft chuckle from between his lips. “Well, alright.” He stood. “But if you need my help—”

  “I know where you are, old friend.”

  He laughed again. “I taught you too well, I guess.”

  I watched him go, feeling a little guilty for refusing to tell him the truth. But I believed Shaw had good reason for taking off the way she did. Hell, I might have done the same thing in my younger years.

  She wanted to be the one to recover her target. I had to respect that.

  But it didn’t change the fact that I knew they were all headed into Mexico. Mike was working on tracking Michaels right now and I was hoping we would have a location by the end of the day.

  I glanced at a picture of my daughters that sat on the corner of my desk. I’d promised Aidan I would spend the afternoon with her and take her to a movie she’d been wanting to see. More guilt added to the pile resting on my shoulders. I brushed my fingertips against the glass, wishing more than anything I could have the best of both worlds. Whoever said a woman could have it all must not have had children.

  And then there was Carrington. I needed to talk to him about Mahoney. It wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to having.

  For that one reason alone, I was grateful to have this mess to clean up. At least it helped me put off the inevitable.

  Chapter 19

  Malik

  I listened to them make their plans and watched over Shaw’s shoulder as they sketched a rough draft of the house where this man was holding Alison. It seemed insane to me. Twelve men guarding the perimeter of the house alone! If there were that many outside, how many would be waiting for us on the inside?

  “You can’t go in there alone,” I said the moment Shaw showed Andrew and Jamey out of our hotel room.

  She returned to the small table and folded up the sketch they’d made over their hour-long discussion, carefully stowing it away in a drawer before she turned to focus on me.

  “I’m not going to be alone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Jamey and Andrew were in the Marines, too. Now they both contract with companies that provide security in the Middle East. They know what they’re doing.”

  “But you are incredibly outnumbered, Shaw. What if you’re overrun with guards? What if that man takes you captive, too? Who’s going to go in there and save you?”

  “You seem to care an awful lot about someone you barely know.”

  That hit me hard. I stumbled back a little as though it were a physical blow. “That’s not fair,” I stuttered. “After everything we’ve been through in the last twelve hours, I think you owe me more than that.”

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  I laughed humorlessly, blown away by that statement. “What the hell do you mean you don’t owe me anything? I helped you out of that damn hotel while the police were swarming outside. What would have happened to you if they’d found you there? If they’d matched your gun to half the bullet holes in that hotel suite?”

  She shook her head, brushing past me on her way to the bathroom. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back, held her hard against my side. I could see pain flash in her eyes, remembering belatedly that this was the shoulder she’d dislocated in the fight. But that didn’t make me let go.

  “I got you here. The least you can do is talk to me about what happens next.”

  She looked up at me, but only briefly. She was struggling to meet my gaze, struggling to hide the emotions roiling through her eyes like storm clouds. It
was only then that I realized the truth: she was as frightened by all this as I was.

  “I know you trust those guys. I know you think they’re gods or something, but there are only three of you.”

  “I know.”

  “What if—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to pretend this isn’t happening for a little while. Can you let me do that, please?”

  She did look at me then, tears shimmering in her eyes. I pulled her closer for a brief second, not wanting to let her go. But then I did, watching her stumble back against the bed. She sank down onto its soft surface, one hand moving to rub her sore shoulder. I sighed heavily before settling onto the bed beside her.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care.”

  I rested my hand on her knee. “Where are you from, Shaw Easton? Or is it Knolls?”

  She smiled softly. “Knolls.”

  “Where are you from, Shaw Knolls?”

  “Chicago.”

  I chuckled softly. “I kind of thought so. You have the slightest touch of an accent.”

  “Do I?”

  I nodded. “Did you go to the Northwestern?”

  “In my mother’s dreams.” She sighed. “My father wanted me to become a lawyer, like him, and my mother wanted me to be a doctor, like her. But I had no interest in continuing the boredom that four years of high school had been, so I joined the Marines without informing them.”

  “No college.”

  “No.”

  “I bet they weren’t thrilled about that.”

  “My parents are highly educated people who had a child as some sort of trophy to prove what well-rounded people they are. I was raised by nannies and high paid housekeepers, people I could relate to much better than I could my own parents. Their lifestyle was never something I aspired to achieve.”

  “You don’t like rich people?”

  “I don’t like artificial people.”

  I smiled, finding it amusing that she had just described the person I had believed her to be the first time I spoke to her. But she had made it pretty clear since that day that she wasn’t as artificial as all that. Now I knew why.

  I ran my hand over her thigh. “I suppose they aren’t happy with your current choice of career, either.”

  “Not particularly. My mother was convinced I’d want to go to college as soon as I returned stateside. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and now she’s angry with me for actually doing what I said I would do.”

  “I know how that is. My father lives thousands of miles away, yet he still expects me to live my life the way he wants.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You think you were surprised that I chose to work as the head of the housekeeping department of a hotel? My father was horrified. He was all set to buy me a hotel when I informed him that I wanted to learn the business my way.”

  “How did he respond to the news?”

  “He was horrified. He told me I was a stain on the reputation of our family. Never mind the fact that he’d never given me so much as his name. He wants to throw money at me and thinks that makes everything cool between us.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t.”

  “How did that work, anyway? How did he keep you and your mother hidden?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek for a second, remembering the story the way my mother told it to me. “They met at school. My mother became pregnant and insisted they marry. They had a small Christian ceremony that my father’s family didn’t recognize. I was born a few months later, just weeks before my father was called home. He set my mother up in a home in a small village where she raised me mostly alone, with occasional visits from my father.”

  “She was essentially his mistress.”

  “I suppose. He was married to his second cousin not long after his return to Saudi Arabia.” I shook my head. “My mom doesn’t talk about the details much. And I don’t remember much about that time. Most of my memories are of my mother’s family up in Oregon and here in California.”

  “But you speak Arabic fluently.”

  “It was my first language. And my mother continued to speak it with me. She wanted me to remember my heritage.”

  “And your father? When was the last time you saw him?”

  I shrugged. “He’s traveled to the United States a few times. We met once when I was fifteen…it was awkward. And he calls me once a month, has since I can remember. But the conversations are often one-sided.”

  “And I thought I had a rough relationship with my parents.”

  I tilted my head slightly, taking in her contemplative expression. “I wouldn’t change anything. My mother and I are very close. That means a lot.”

  She took my hand and squeezed my fingers. “You’re lucky, then.”

  “I think so.”

  She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. If I’d realized what was going to happen—”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I was told not to let anyone into that room. If I’d followed my orders, you’d be safe back home.”

  “And bored out of my mind.”

  She smiled. I could feel the movement of her muscles against my shoulder.

  I turned to her and lifted her chin. “Listen to me. I understand how important this is to you and I understand you feel like it’s something you have to do. I even accept that that racist jerk in the next room is the most trustworthy person you could imagine going into this with. But that doesn’t change the odds that are stacked against you.”

  “I know.”

  “Let me go with you. Maybe I can help.”

  “Have you ever fired a gun?”

  I brushed a thumb over her chin. “I have, actually.”

  “Not just in laser tag game. A real gun.”

  I groaned. “I know the difference, Shaw.”

  She studied my face. “I would just worry about you and that would distract me. I can’t afford to be distracted in there.”

  “But another gun—”

  “Let me think about it.”

  She pulled away and stood. “I want to take a bath and get something to eat before we do this. You should get some rest.”

  She disappeared into the bathroom before I could respond. I watched her go and then took the improvised map out of the drawer where she’d hidden it. I studied it while she bathed, trying to memorize the rooms they’d been able to identify through open windows, working out paths from various entrances to the room where Alison was being held. I wanted to be prepared.

  I was going in whether she wanted me there or not. There was no way in hell I was going to trust those mercenaries to bring her back safely and unscathed.

  Shaw had turned my life upside down simply by walking into it. I was not going to let her disappear from it now. Not like this. Not when there was something I could do to help.

  Not while I had this gun tucked into my bag. That ole racist should probably watch over his weapons a little better.

  Chapter 20

  Shaw

  I stretched out in the bathtub, my muscles so sore that it hurt to simply move. I closed my eyes, seeing Alison through the windows of that villa, her hands tied behind her back. Her face was bruised, her eyes so swollen she was almost unrecognizable. But I knew it was her. And I saw her chest move. She was still alive.

  But I had no idea how much longer that would be true.

  It was dusk when we arrived outside the villa to do some recon. Michaels’ men were settling in for the night, some of them dragging local women up to their rooms for a little rest and relaxation. As much as I hated to see the struggle in some of those women, it was a mark on our side. The more distracted they were, the easier it would be to get into the building.

  Jamey thought there were at least thirty men altogether, not counting the servants and women wandering in and out. That was ten men apiece. He was confident we could do
it.

  I wasn’t.

  It’d been months since I’d been in a combat situation. What if I froze? What if something went wrong and Alison was hurt? What if we didn’t get to her in time?

  There were my injuries to consider, too. My stitches were puffy, the skin around them swollen. My shoulder was so sore I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move it well enough to fire a weapon or engage in hand-to-hand combat. And then there were the multitude of other injuries all over my body, bruises that still hadn’t begun to appear on my flesh, but were causing intense pain deep in my muscles.

  What if I walked in there and discovered I was too injured to fight?

  Malik wanted to walk in there with us. Untrained, unprepared for what he might see. I was touched that he would want to do that for me—more touched than he would ever understand. No one had ever offered to do such a selfless thing for me before. But I couldn’t take a civilian into what was going to amount to a combat mission. He’d be like a fish underwater, an easy target for Michaels and his people. That was clearly not going to happen.

  I shouldn’t even be going in there, so how could I take Malik in?

  It was insane. I should call Joss and put an end to it all right now. But each time I dragged my phone out of my pocket and considered it, the realization of how all this would look to her, how my massive failure would appear, stopped me.

  Joss faced a group of mobsters all on her own, not once, but twice. She was shot twice and still managed to save her target. I’d read about it online. She shot down the head of a notorious Russian mafia with no backup, no one there to help her. And she did it while protecting a small child and her father.

  Joss was the definition of badass. I only aspired to be like her.

  Which was why I wasn’t going to go to Joss and tell her I’d failed.