“It’s seven-freaking-a.m. I’m not leaving your house for several more hours at the earliest.”
Morgan laughed and turned to walk to the kitchen. “Pancakes okay?” she asked.
“Only if they’re gluten—”
“—free. Got it. I’ll make some vegan organic banana pancakes for you. The good stuff I’ll save for myself.”
“Smart ass,” Sarah said, getting up and following her friend into the kitchen.
Chapter 8
The next morning, Ryan narrowed his eyes at the satellite images of the camp in Afghanistan. The massive screen in front of him showed multiple views of where the American woman was believed to be held. Nestled between the foothills of a mountain range and the open desert, it was heavily guarded around the outskirts, with multiple huts scattered throughout. Looked like a couple of large artillery vehicles. Possibly a weapons cache. And one area in particular that was always heavily guarded.
A hut with a man standing guard 24/7.
“What’s the word, Captain Mitchell?” Patrick asked, walking over to the table. His cool blue eyes swept over the images as Christopher joined them.
“CENTCOM believes they’ve located the kidnapped American,” Ryan said.
Patrick nodded, clenching his jaw.
“About damn time,” Christopher muttered.
Ryan’s gaze flicked toward him. Lexi had been kidnapped months ago. Although she’d been held locally, none of the men on the team took the idea of a woman being held against her will lightly. None of them would rest until she’d been safely brought home.
“Looks like a permanent set-up,” Patrick noted.
“Affirmative. And not too far from those mountain ranges should they quickly need to go into hiding.”
“Almost makes our job too damn easy,” Christopher said. “The perfect in and out.”
“We need sat imagery of this area from two weeks ago,” Ryan said. “The images from the past twenty-four hours show someone guarding this hut at all times.” He pointed to a hut near the side of the camp.
“Good idea to compare,” Patrick agreed. “Alyssa was taken a week ago. Factor in a day or two of travel time, and we should have a good sense of whether this is definitely her. Unless they have some other hostage we’re unaware of.”
“Always a possibility,” Christopher said.
“We’ve got feed from drones in the area as well. It looks like whoever is in the tent is being constantly guarded, but no one goes in or out.” Ryan said. “This is a top priority for the Pentagon. It turns out that we were given misinformation before. The young woman who’s in captivity is actually Alyssa Stone.”
“As in Senator Stone?” Christopher asked in disbelief. “Sonofabitch.”
“Apparently the Senator thought they could keep it under wraps by saying it was the daughter of an aide,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Nothing like keeping the men who’ll be sent in to save his daughter out of the goddamn loop.”
“Damn it,” Patrick muttered. “Think they know who they’ve got?”
“Not yet,” Ryan said. “Although any captive American woman is valuable to them. Throw in the fact that she’s a Senator’s daughter? If they figure that out, it’s fucking gold.”
“No wonder the Senator was so tight-lipped,” Patrick said coolly.
The other men on the team, Matthew, Evan, Brent, and Mike “Patch” Hunter came into the bullpen, dressed in their PT gear.
“Patrick said we were briefing here today first,” Brent said, crossing his arms as he stopped beside the table. “Does this mean they found her?”
“Grab a seat, men,” Ryan said, nodding at Evan to get the lights.
Additional images of the compound appeared on the giant screen in front of them. “First things first,” Ryan said, his voice steel, “this isn’t the daughter of an aide who’s been kidnapped. We were intentionally misled with that piece of bad intel. It’s Senator Stone’s daughter.”
“Holy shit,” Matthew muttered.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brent asked angrily. “Why the hell didn’t they tell us that in the first place?”
Ryan’s gaze swept across his team. “It was the Senator’s idea to keep it under wraps,” he said coolly. “He didn’t want it leaked to the press. Although he seemed unaware that that lack of knowledge would make our job that much harder.”
“No shit,” Brent said.
“What the hell?” Matthew asked, standing up and pacing the room. “I’d say shit like that is need to know—as we need to know it.”
Patrick smirked. “You know how Washington works—they’re always covering something up.”
Ryan nodded. “Some big-wigs up in Washington thought they could keep it under wraps. Prevent any leaks. The Pentagon shut that down immediately. Our mission; our terms. We have details on the operation the Senator himself won’t even be privy to.”
“Well, hell,” Matthew drawled. “It’s not like we’ll be going over details of the op with CNN.”
“And they’re exactly who the Senator doesn’t want getting word about it. If the media learns it’s Senator Stone’s daughter, her life will be in imminent danger. The terrorists will up their demands and be willing to do something big to make a statement.”
“Do we have any communications from amongst the terrorist group?” Christopher asked. He could hack into anything and probably would dig up information himself if they didn’t have the intelligence they needed.
“Affirmative,” Ryan said. “Chatter indicates they’re guarding a package.”
“That’s her,” Patrick said.
“That’s the most likely scenario,” Ryan said. “Mike, we don’t know the condition of Ms. Stone.”
“Understood. We’ll have all the supplies necessary to treat combat wounds and do what we can on the scene. Whatever shape she’s in, we’ll get her to the extraction point and onto the helo.”
“Are we suspecting she’s injured?” Evan asked.
“Not at this point,” Ryan said. “Just making preparations in case.”
“When do we leave?” Brent growled. “We’re wasting time sitting the fuck around here. I want to get a piece of those terrorist mother-fuckers.”
“Cool it, Cobra,” Ryan snapped. “Just like you, I follow orders. A chain of command. We’re waiting on word from the Pentagon. It looks like we’ll be sent in along with another SEAL team for rescue and recovery.”
“Who are we going with?” Patrick asked, his cool blue gaze sweeping Ryan’s way. “The guys in Bravo?”
“SEAL Team Delta—Hunter ‘Hook’ Murdock’s team.”
“Colt’s on that team,” Matthew said, glancing toward Evan and Brent.
“Hell yeah. Colton’s a good guy. We met him down in Florida,” Evan said, filling in the others. “I thought he was stationed down in Pensacola?”
“Just for a one-year TDY,” Matthew drawled. “C-4’s back on SEAL Team Delta now.”
“’C-4’ huh?” Brent asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep. Colton ‘C-4’ Ferguson,” Matthew affirmed. “Those assholes won’t know what hit them.”
“They’re a good group of men,” Ryan affirmed. “Our team will come in on the side of camp by the mountains. Murdock’s team will be sweeping in from the desert. You’ll rendezvous at the camp—don’t be expecting an engraved invitation.”
Patrick smirked. “And the woman?”
“With your team. Unless shit goes south—then Murdock’s team will escort her to safety. Otherwise you’ll head into the mountains and wait for pick-up.”
“Roger that,” Patrick said.
Mike creased his brow. “What is it, Patch?” Patrick asked, calling him by his nickname.
“Just a bad feeling.”
The other men on the team exchanged a glance. Mike was known for his ability to have a sixth-sense about things. All the men on the SEAL team were trained to be intuitive, have situational awareness, and the ability to read people. Without even r
ealizing it, people gave off small tells all the time that indicated whether they were telling the truth or lying, and it could mean life or death in certain situations. Yet Mike’s sense had always extended beyond even that—if something was going down on a mission, he always seemed to know it.
“My sister said the same thing,” Patrick said. “And I told her we always have everything under control.”
Ryan’s ears perked up as his gaze swept to Patrick, but he kept his face expressionless.
“Sarah?” Evan asked, glancing over. “What do you mean?”
“She told me she was worried at the barbeque. That’s not really her style, actually—she’s usually rather flippant about everything. Hell, she was over an hour late. How hard is to show up at 1700? She had the entire day to get ready.”
Ryan pressed his lips together.
As the men began to talk amongst themselves, Ryan’s mind drifted back to Saturday night after they’d left the bar. Jesus Christ. Sarah had stripped down right in front of him before running to the water. It’s like the woman was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him every time they saw one another—he smirked at the innuendo. Something was definitely rising when she was around.
Hell.
And then for him to leave her on the beach like that after their argument? She’d stormed off toward her friend Morgan, and he’d had half a mind to chase after her. But for what?
They weren’t together.
Any way it ended, he was going home alone.
Going out for a drink with her had been a big damn mistake. He wanted a little more time together, but to what end? It’s not like they’d spend the night together. Not like he’d ever date her. Sleep with her. Hell, even if she wasn’t Patrick’s sister, he didn’t have time. He’d left to go to base on a goddamn Saturday night for fuck’s sake.
He clenched his jaw.
“Everything okay?” Patrick asked.
“Fucking spectacular,” Ryan said, crossing his arms.
“We’ll get her,” Patrick assured him.
Of course Ice thought he was worried about the mission. What the hell else would he have on his mind? The Navy was his life. Was in his blood. He’d sweat, fought, and bled for his country.
“Damn straight.” He looked toward the team. “Gear up for a jump. We’ve got a plane leaving in 30 minutes for drills.”
“Looks like we’ll be arriving in camp by air,” Brent smirked.
“Did you hear that? Suit up, boys!” Mike called out, hollering back at the others as he was the first out of the room.
“Hot damn,” Matthew drawled, standing up from his seat.
The other men walked out of the bull pen toward the locker room, and Ryan narrowed his gaze at the aerial images on the massive computer screen. Rough terrain surrounded the camp. Hostiles surrounded the perimeter. And there in the middle of everything was likely the lone American woman who had no fucking business traveling to Afghanistan in the first place. He ground his jaw.
Chapter 9
Sarah grinned at the young girl in her first physical therapy session in the morning. The girl had recently gotten a cast off her leg after falling and breaking her ankle, and Sarah was working with her to help the child regain strength and mobility.
“Thank you so much,” the mother said as they were leaving the brightly adorned therapy room they used for children. “We’ll work on the exercises you taught us.”
“Wonderful. Keep up the good work, kiddo!” Sarah said as she knelt down by the girl. “I’ll see you and your mom next week.”
She glanced down at her tablet and noted she had half an hour before her next client arrived. She walked down the hallway to the small breakroom and microwaved a cup of hot water for her tea. She’d felt jittery all day yesterday after drinking the super strong coffee at Morgan’s. Give her some nice jasmine green tea any day. She pulled a cup of overnight oats from her thermal lunch bag and sprinkled some chia seeds on top. She’d meant to eat her breakfast as soon as she arrived to work but had gotten distracted texting Morgan instead.
Good grief.
Apparently Mike from the weekend had been drunk-dialing her all Sunday night. Which was exactly why Sarah didn’t give out her number to random men she just met. Shouldn’t that guy have been back in New York anyway?
She pulled her mug from the microwave, dunking the tea bag in, and ate a spoonful of oatmeal. She’d gotten home waaaay too late last night, but on the plus side, she’d avoided the notorious traffic on the bridge and tunnels from VA Beach leading back to Norfolk. She needed a private helicopter to fly home or something.
Right.
Like that wasn’t a waste of gasoline, she thought with a smirk.
Maybe Ryan could’ve rounded up a Navy one for her. Those guys probably flew between bases and practiced jumps into the ocean with it or something, but it could’ve made a quick flight to Norfolk, right? There were plenty of shipyards around here. Hmmm. Patrick never told her anything about his SEAL training, but suddenly she was picturing Ryan piloting a helicopter around VA Beach. Taking in aerial views of the sand and water. She didn’t like the man much at the moment, but still, the image of him in uniform piloting a helicopter was kind of sexy.
Ha. Her mini cruiser served her just fine, thank you very much, and she still was amused at the idea of Ryan trying to fold his large frame inside. Too bad their night had ended with his acting like a complete ass. Typical man. The rest of them were having a little fun at the beach and he’d stood there scowling like their chaperone or something. Then run off to the office. Base. Wherever the hell he went.
It was amazing he’d even come with her to grab a drink. It if wasn’t written in his 24-hour military schedule, it didn’t happen.
“How was your weekend?” her coworker asked, walking into the breakroom.
“Great! Can’t go wrong with the beach. I got in plenty of sun, sand, and drinks at the oceanside bars.”
“And how about the barbeque? Did you meet any hot Navy men?”
“Ha. I told you my brother is a Navy SEAL. His friends wouldn’t look twice at me—besides, all the men on his team are spoken for.”
“Maybe you should move to Coronado,” her friend said with a grin, referring to the Navy SEAL base on the other side of the country.
“Right. Knowing Patrick, he knows half the men there as well. I don’t need a military guy anyway—too straight-laced and uptight.”
Peals of laughter filled the air. “Sarah, I’ve dated my fair share of military men—they’re all over Norfolk. And not one of them was uptight. They were all about boozing and babes.”
Sarah shrugged, standing to go rinse her reusable container and coffee mug in the sink. “All right, I’ll give you that. The higher they rise in the ranks though, the bigger an asshole they are.”
“Spoken like a woman who knows.”
“Just an observation.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’ve got my next patient in ten. Catch up over lunch?”
“Sounds good. See you later!”
Sarah rounded the corner and headed down the hall to her next appointment. As she passed by the TV in the reception area, news of a missing American woman flashed across the screen. Sarah’s gut clenched as she stopped to listen. According to CNN, a recent video had surfaced, allegedly of an American woman being held hostage in Afghanistan. Although she’d been missing for more than a week, this was the first time the media had reported it. Her eyes widened as she saw how young the woman was—probably just in her mid-twenties. All alone being held hostage in a foreign land.
She shuddered.
Word from the Pentagon is that troops will be sent in on a secret rescue operation to obtain the missing American woman, the anchorman said.
Sarah rolled her eyes. Yeah, some secret. Just announce it on CNN for the entire world to hear.
As you know, the anchorman continued, the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. Options include awaiting her release, which doesn�
��t seem likely, or sending in troops to rescue her.
“Who will go in after her?” the anchorman asked the former military intelligence officer they were interviewing.
“Most likely the Special Forces will be sent in to conduct an operation such as this—possibly the Navy SEALs.”
Sarah froze.
“They’re trained for instances like this—rapid deployment, secretive operations, hostage rescues. That’d be my guess in a situation like this.”
And this just in, the anchorman continued, the group claiming responsibility for the kidnapping are demanding $50 million for her release. No word on the condition of the hostage, although it is believed video footage will be released soon.
Sarah’s stomach churned as she hurried down the hall to her next appointment. Hostage rescue. Navy SEALs. She knew Patrick’s team got sent on all sorts of dangerous missions—most that never played out on national television. They dealt with dangerous men all the time. Situations she couldn’t even dream of.
There were other SEAL teams. It wouldn’t necessarily be Patrick.
She had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake though.
She’d call him after work. He couldn’t fill her in, obviously, or even let her know if he was in fact leaving. But she’d feel better when she heard his calm assurances over the phone.
Worry niggled at the back of her mind for the remainder of the morning. Her intuition had never proven her wrong before.
***
Ryan grit his teeth as he watched the news coverage splash across the big screen in the bull pen. Leaked information like this was what got men killed. Reporters wanting the biggest scoop were putting his men in danger. Were putting the hostage in danger. Nothing like telling the enemy they were coming.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He pounded his fist on the table in frustration.
“It gets me every damn time when they put that shit on the news,” Patrick grumbled beside him.
“It’s all about ratings,” Ryan grumbled. “The networks don’t give a crap about the boots on the ground or lives in danger. Forget the secrecy of the mission—they want to break the story first.”
Loved by a SEAL (Alpha SEALs Book 7) Page 7
