by Paige Tyler
Unfortunately, as she’d expected, the guards at the gate refused to let her through, no matter how much she tried to sweet talk them. She batted her eyes and tried to convince one particular MP on duty who’d flirted with her on several occasions she had to get on base for a few minutes to scout out the location for an upcoming wedding, but the guy hadn’t budged.
She’d turned around and been driving away from the base when her phone rang.
“Figure out a way to get on base,” Buzz Cut ordered. “Or your sister dies.”
Felicia continued to stare at the clock on the dash as it slowly counted down the minutes. She had twenty-nine minutes left. She needed to figure out something or Stef would be dead.
In frustration, she reached into the center console and pulled out the weapon stashed there. She didn’t even have a clue how to fire a gun, but maybe she could use it to threaten her way through the gate. Then what? The military police would chase her once she got on base.
Felicia caught sight of a group of men and women in Navy uniforms coming out of the grocery store. An idea hit her. Insane and probably wouldn’t work, but the only thing she could think of was shoving her gun in the nearest sailor’s back and demanding he or she help her get on base. She only prayed she’d find a sailor who didn’t have a hero complex. She really didn’t want to have to shoot anyone—even if she could figure out how to do it. But, when it came to her sister, she’d do what she had to do.
Felicia turned off the engine and waited. It would probably be smarter to scope out the possible targets and pick someone smaller and preferably female, but as the clock on the dash continued to get closer to the ten-thirty deadline, she realized she didn’t have time
She shoved the gun and the black box into her purse then got out and walked over to the store. The first few sailors came out in groups of two and three. Dammit, she didn’t have time for this!
Then she spotted a hunky, dark-haired guy in blue camouflage coming her way, a couple of grocery bags in his hands—alone. Also at least a foot taller than her and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Her gut told her this guy wasn’t the best choice, but she couldn’t wait any longer.
Heart pounding in her chest and a hand on the gun in her purse, she turned and followed, hurrying to catch up with him. When they got close to his blue SUV, she pulled the gun out of her purse, closed the distance between them, and shoved the weapon in his back. He immediately stopped in his tracks.
“I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you don’t help me get on base,” she said as firmly as she could. The words didn’t sound as intimidating as she’d hoped, but at least her voice hadn’t squeaked.
She didn’t know what to expect, but when the big man didn’t move at all, she got a little nervous.
“Don’t do anything foolish or you’ll be putting the lives of innocent people in danger,” she warned. “I’ve never fired a gun before, and if you make me do it now, I have no idea where the bullets are going to go.”
The guy still didn’t move. But at least he didn’t spin around and try to disarm her. Unfortunately, the seconds continued to fly past, bringing Stefanie’s death ever closer. Felicia might have to do something else—although she didn’t know what—to prove her seriousness. Could she whack him in the back of the head? Probably not without making the gun go off. Then what? Unconscious, he wouldn’t be able to get her on base.
“Did you hear what I said?” she prompted, shoving the gun more firmly into his back.
“I heard you,” he said. “Relax, okay? There’s no need to pull the trigger. I’ll get you on base. But I want your word you won’t hurt anyone if I do.”
She couldn’t believe he tried to bargain with her when she had a gun pointed at him. “It’s the last thing I want.”
He lifted his right hand, and Felicia tensed, until she realized he was only lifting the key fob for his SUV. He unlocked the doors with a beep-beep then opened the driver’s side. Felicia wondered if she should let him drive or if she should do it. After a moment, she decided the guards on the gate would never let them through with her behind the wheel, so it had to be him. But she couldn’t tell him to wait while she ran around to the passenger side, either.
Finally, she climbed into the SUV first and crawled over the center console to get into the passenger seat, keeping the weapon pointed at him the whole time.
“Get in,” she ordered. “And don’t try anything.”
As he climbed in, she saw the name Dunn embroidered on a tag on his uniform. Nice name. It fit him.
She was wondering about his first name when she finally got a good look at his face. She couldn’t see his eyes because he wore aviators, but with a chiseled jaw and wide, sensual mouth, he was way more handsome than any man had a right to be. She hoped he did what she told him. She’d feel horrible shooting someone so attractive.
Okay, absolutely the dumbest thought she’d ever had. Would she feel better shooting him if he were ugly?
Dunn reached around to put his grocery bags on the floorboard in the back then fastened his seatbelt. When he finished, he lifted a brow. “You going to put on your seatbelt?”
Felicia’s jaw may have dropped. Seriously? Obviously, he wouldn’t even start the vehicle until she buckled up. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get her belt on while holding a pistol. She glanced around for a place to put it, figuring wedging it between her legs wasn’t the best idea. She finally ended up putting it on the floor. The moment she had her seatbelt on, she reached down and snatched it up with trembling hands, turning to point it in Dunn’s direction.
He regarded her with a look plainly suggesting he knew this was her first foray into taking a hostage, but he thankfully didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he cranked the SUV and headed out of the parking lot.
“I hope this doesn’t take too long,” he remarked as he drove toward the Naval Amphibious Base. “I bought ice cream and would hate to have to throw it away if it melts.”
Felicia didn’t know what to say. How the hell could the man be so calm when he had a gun pointed at him?
As they neared the gate, Logan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out his ID card. She slipped the gun in her purse.
“Don’t make me hurt anyone,” she said him.
“I told you I’d get you on base and I will,” Dunn said as he weaved through the barricades put there to slow people down. “Keep the gun in your purse and everything will be fine.”
Dunn had a very trustworthy-looking face and Felicia wanted to believe him, but she still tensed when they rolled to a stop beside the guard at the gate. At least it wasn’t the cute MP she’d tried to sweet-talk earlier. In fact, she didn’t recognize the older guy at all.
“Dunn, my man,” the guard said. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. How the hell are you?”
“I’m good,” Dunn said conversationally. “How about you?
“Can’t complain.” The guard leaned down and regarded Felicia. “Who’s this? New girlfriend?”
Crap. She hadn’t thought about having a cover story. Passing her off as a girlfriend might work, though.
Dunn chuckled. “Nah. This is my sister Claire. She’s staying with me for a while, and I’m showing her around. I’m going to get her a base access on Monday.”
The older man smiled and nodded. “No problem.”
While they’d made it this far, Felicia refused to let herself exhale until the guard waved them through the gate. She glanced at the clock on the dash, comparing it with her watch. Ten minutes.
“Drive faster,” she said, pulling out the gun so she could point it at him and the map so she could figure out where she needed to go.
“If I drive over the speed limit, there’s a good chance we’ll get pulled over.”
“If you drive under the speed limit, there’s a good chance someone very important to me will die,” she told him. “So, drive faster.”
Dunn looked at her sharply. She expected him to say something, but
instead he drove faster.
“Where are we going?” he asked softly.
Her knowledge of NAB Coronado limited to the location of the church and the various clubs that held receptions, she held the map up for him to see and pointed at the part circled in red.
“Right there,” she said. “And I have to be there in five minutes.”
He studied the circled area on the map for a moment then gave her another intense look. “You sure you want to go there?”
The spot on the map probably had some significance to him, but to her, it was simply the place Buzz Cut told to be—in five minutes.
“Yes.”
As Dunn turned down a side road and picked up speed, Felicia held out hope this might work. She wasn’t naive. She knew the men holding Stef couldn’t be trusted. But she had to believe if she did as Buzz Cut told her, maybe everything would work out okay. It was the only thing she had to hang onto until something better came along.
“We didn’t have a chance for a proper introduction, but my name’s Logan,” he said. “What’s yours?”
Felicia ignored him, or tried to, anyway, but he kept talking in a frustratingly calm, casual voice.
“Maybe I can help you out of your situation,” he continued. “You don’t really seem to be the kind of person to do something like this.”
She wasn’t. But she was doing it now—for Stefanie.
“Keep driving,” she told him.
Felicia hadn’t realized they’d reached their destination until Logan pulled the SUV into a parking space and turned off the engine. Off to one side of the large official-looking building a sign read Naval Special Warfare Command.
She looked around, trying to remember exactly where Buzz Cut had told her to take the box.
“Where’s the south side of the building?” she asked.
Logan pointed to the right.
She pulled the box out of her purse then motioned at Logan with the weapon. “Get out and walk in front of me to the picnic table over there. The gun will be in my purse, but I’ll have my finger on the trigger the whole time, so don’t try anything.”
His gaze locked on the box in her hand. “What’s that?”
The dash clock read ten twenty-nine.
“I can’t tell you anything, so stop asking me questions and get out,” she snapped.
He regarded her silently for a moment then shut off the engine and got out of the SUV. She climbed over the console and followed him to the south side of the building.
The table stood right where Buzz Cut said it would be, under some palm trees. The moment she and Logan sat down, she put the box on the table and turned the lone switch on the top until she heard a clicking sound. She kept turning it until it stopped moving. Then she sat there staring at the box—and Logan.
He took of his sunglasses, revealing gorgeous blue eyes, then reached into his pocket for his cellphone.
“What are you doing?” she asked nervously, fumbling for the gun in her purse and pointing it at him.
“Playing a game on my phone.” He shrugged. “I figure we’re going to be sitting here a while, aren’t we?”
She frowned. He clicked way too many keys for any game. Was he calling the cops? She didn’t want to have to shoot him, but he might not give her a choice.
But then he turned the phone around to show her what he’d typed.
I know you can’t talk, but I can help you if you’ll let me. Tell me what’s going on.
Felicia blinked. How had he figured out she couldn’t talk?
He nodded at her, then pointed at the words he’d written on his phone, specifically the part where he’d said he could help her.
A thousand thoughts raced through her head. Could she trust him? Could he really help her? She couldn’t imagine how he could, but she needed help from someone, and her instincts told her Dunn was that person.
Reaching down, she lifted the hem of her tank top, exposing her stomach and the wire taped there.
Logan leaned in close, followed the wire around to the little square thing taped to her lower back, and nodded. Sitting back, he typed something else into his phone, then held it up so she could see.
Do you have a cellphone?
Chapter Two
LOGAN HAD ONLY gone into work beaucoup early on his day off because he had to finish up some paperwork from the mission in Syria. Next, his plan had been to veg out in front of the TV watching cheesy sci-fi movies and eating junk food for two whole days. But then a beautiful woman had stepped up behind him as he came out of the grocery store and shoved a gun in his back, and his weekend plans had changed.
He could tell right from the get-go she didn’t have a clue how to handle a gun. Not only was the safety on her Sig Sauer 9mm on, but she shook like a leaf the whole time she had it pointed at him. That alone told him neither he nor anyone else was in immediate danger. Why did she want to get on base so badly? From the way she’d looked at the clock every other minute, she had some kind of timetable.
When she pointed at the spot on the map, Logan realized the seriousness of the situation. She wanted to go to the headquarters building of the Navy Special Warfare Command from which the Navy ran its special operation missions—and where his bosses from SEAL Team 5 worked. If she wanted to go there, it was because there was something big happening.
If she hadn’t been wearing a snug-fitting tank top and yoga pants with those wide-leg bottoms, he would have thought her a suicide bomber. Hell, with her long, dark hair up in a ponytail and a hint of makeup, she looked like the girl next door. But while she had plenty of curves under her outfit, none of them were explosive—at least not in the literal sense. And he was pretty sure the black box wasn’t a bomb either.
He could have disarmed her a dozen times over already, but instead he went with his gut and took her where she wanted to go. His instincts had gotten him out of one bad situation after another over the years, and right now, his gut told him she was in serious trouble.
He couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what the hell was going on though. Something about the way she refused to answer his questions made him think there she couldn’t talk. So he’d pulled out his cellphone. The relief on her face when she thought he truly might be able to help her made his heart squeeze. When she’d lifted the hem of her tank top and shown him the quality surveillance gear taped to her sexy belly, he knew his gut had been right. She was in trouble and she needed his help.
Hands shaking, she took her phone out of her purse and handed it to him. He took it and put his name and number in her contacts, then turned off the ringer and gave it back to her.
Setting his own phone to silence, he texted his first question. What’s your name?
She pushed up her sunglasses to see the screen better, then texted him back. Felicia.
Nice name. Okay, now for the serious question. Is someone close to you in danger?
She read the message on her phone then started typing furiously.
Five men with heavy accents grabbed my sister and me this morning. They gave me the box and told me to come to this building and turn it on then stay here for 30 minutes or they’d kill my sister.
Were they armed? he texted back.
She nodded and went back to typing. Damn, she had fast fingers.
Four of them carrying pistols. I assume the fifth one—their leader—has one, too, but I never saw it. They gave me the pistol in my purse in case things went wrong, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.
He smiled. He couldn’t imagine someone like Felicia ever wanting to hurt anyone. But she’d done what was necessary to try and help her sister. He could respect that.
Do you know what this box is?
She stared at the thing on the table for a moment before answering. The leader—a really big guy with a military style haircut—said it’s a listening device. He had a sailor to do the job, but he tried to back out so they killed him. They want me to bring the box back to them after I’m done here.
The fac
t one person was already dead wasn’t good, but everything else she’d said pretty much lined up with what Logan had thought earlier. This box was somehow recording the meeting going on in the NSWC building, even though it should have been frigging impossible with all the security precautions put into place by Navy security. You couldn’t walk into any secured building on this base—or any other—with a cellphone, iPad, e-reader, Apple Watch, thumb drive, or even a Fitbit. Nothing electronic went into a facility where they were discussing classified information, like the Special Warfare headquarters.
He had no doubt someone had gotten a microphone of some type in there. This black box sure as hell wasn’t picking up conversations all the way out here. He didn’t care what kind of technology it used.
On the upside, at least the thing wasn’t a repeater box—something that picked up the signal from inside the building and transferred it off the base wirelessly. The fact the men wanted Felicia to bring it back to them suggested it was nothing more than a recorder. He hoped to hell he was right or these assholes would get away with a buttload of classified information.
Logan was tempted to reach over and turn off the listening device, but he resisted. He had no way of knowing if they had something in the box that might signal them if it he did. Better to leave it on and make sure the people holding Felicia’s sister hostage never got their hands on it.
Do you know the address of the place they want you to bring the box?
Felicia gave him a vague answer. The warehouse was off Trentham Way in Poway, but she didn’t know a specific address.
That was okay. She got him close with a description. That was good enough. But when he started typing into his phone again, Felicia reached out a hand to stop him. Then she frantically typed into her phone. A moment later, he got a text written in all caps.
