by Blue Saffire
Left alone, she drew in a slow breath, knowing Striker would never hit her like her dad had. But Striker wasn’t around, and she had no one she could turn to.
The food sat on the table, untouched. Shannon cried as she stored the meat and tomatoes, the cheese, and the other food she’d prepared for tacos. Later, he’d want to eat. After he went to bed, she’d have to come out and wash the dishes. She’d made up a taco for herself while she was putting the food away and ate leaning up against the counter, her head down, sadness surrounding her.
This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. People weren’t meant to live with so much pain and anger. Exhausted, she headed to her room but went back to the kitchen to find the pregnancy test which had been tossed under the table. The little pink plus showed, telling her it was positive. A thread of happiness twisted through her, pulling at her heart though her head ached, and she wanted to throw up.
No question, she would keep this baby, even if Striker never came back into her life. She wanted a piece of him with her. He’d been the type of man she’d believed only existed in movies and books. The world needed more men like him.
After making sure the kitchen was spotless, she stepped into the shower, wanting to wash off quickly. Thoughts of Striker brought tears to her eyes that spilled over and washed away with the spray from the shower. She knew she couldn’t stay long in the warm water because if her dad came home and wanted to take a shower, he’d be pissed the hot water was gone.
She’d been ignoring the pain from his hit and kick, but with the water running down her body, the sting made her wince. The skin on her face and her leg must have broken.
After she turned off the water, she glanced down, noticing blood running down her leg to her foot. Damn, he must have done more damage than she’d first assumed. She turned the water on again and rinsed away the blood, using soap to clean the wound. The pain was pretty high, but she wasn’t sure what she could take since she was pregnant.
A shiver raced through her, the miracle of the moment tinged by the fear of her father. Again, the thought that this was wrong hit her. The anger and strife she lived with wasn’t right.
She shut off the water and reached for the alcohol, hoping it would stop the bleeding. The sting made her yell out in pain as her leg throbbed. He’d really hurt her.
After the flow of blood slowed, she stepped from the tub and wrapped a towel around her body before finding a bandage to cover the wound.
With the bandage in place, she removed the towel and stared at herself in the mirror, thinking about the baby growing inside of her body. He would be strong and smart. No question, his little smile would look like his daddy’s. Tears fell as worry for Striker grew. He didn’t even know she was pregnant.
What would he do when he found out? Would he abandon her, or would he want this baby? Was he not texting or calling because he was somewhere in another country, or had he dumped her?
She would have to keep moving forward to her license and move out on her own. Her baby may not have much, but she would make sure he had a good life.
11
The weird feeling stayed with Striker as they were briefed on the location where the embassy employees were being held. He dug into the surveillance, shocked anyone had thought going to this resort was a good idea. The team for the rescue included guys he’d worked with before. Whitney, Jackson, and Bishop knew their shit. He’d met all three on a previous mission.
Before they headed out, they ran through a simulation four times, each time improving on their tasks. Worry filled him, but he pushed it away, thinking it had something to do with Shannon and not their mission.
Close to dark, they loaded onto helicopters and flew into the area where the men and women were being held. His nerves were on high alert though they were landing miles away from the resort.
The seriousness of their operation could be viewed in the faces of the men around him. Jackson pulled him to the side and revealed they were moving on the resort in less than an hour. Talks had broken down, and unless they somehow managed to miraculously resolve the issue, they would be called on to do the rescue.
Striker was ready for it when the call to head out came. His heart picked up speed as they left the secure location in the dark. Approaching the compound at night gave them the best advantage. As far as they knew, none of the embassy employees had been killed, but that could change at any moment.
His team was past the perimeter fence and had performed their entry tasks flawlessly. They approached the compound without being seen. Bullet holes in the walls of the outer buildings were evidence of the violence wrought here.
The adrenaline rush kicked into high gear as he slipped around a building and found the first combatant. This was dirty work, but he figured if someone was willing to kill women and children, destroy lives, and otherwise cause chaos, and then try to kill him, they didn’t deserve to live.
He dispatched the man quickly and kept moving, heading around the next corner. After making it past five outer buildings, they had the main building surrounded. His group had taken out four men guarding the perimeter. Striker believed they were in a good position for now.
His heart sped up as he prepared to go in. This was what he’d trained for, what he lived for. The danger of the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he had confidence in his abilities and the skills of his team.
Whitney gave the order, and they rushed forward. He had to take out one more guy before his quadrant of the building was secure. The hotel probably had been nice maybe a decade ago, but he could see the wear on the carpet and the paint chipped on the walls. Again, he was amazed anyone from the embassy had come up with this hotel location and thought it would be safe.
He stepped into the main room where most of the hostages were being held and froze. Blood was splashed on the floor and up one wall. He narrowed his gaze, staring at the group of embassy workers. Some were sitting, others were stretched out, not looking so good.
Jackson stepped close. “Four people are down.”
“How bad?” Striker asked.
“Not good enough to walk out on their own,” Jackson glanced to the group. “Two women twisted their ankles, and there are a few more with scrapes, nothing serious.”
“So much blood,” Striker said. “Did anyone die?”
Jackson gave his head a quick shake. “None of our people.”
Striker stared around the room, thinking this was a terrible place for them to be. “This room is too big to defend.”
Jackson shook his head. “We gotta get them out of here.”
“Agreed.” Striker wondered how. The two guys who’d been shot were still losing blood. The women who’d been hit were faring a little better.
Whitney and Bishop came close and agreed with them; this was all sorts of screwed up.
“I don’t like it,” Whitney growled.
“Neither do I.” Jackson stalked off to talk to a few of the other men Striker didn’t know very well.
“Tell me, Striker, what do you think?” Bishop asked.
“I can’t believe anyone with any brains would come here. This was a suicide trip if I’ve ever seen one. They were stupid for leaving the embassy compound and crazy for setting up here. Don’t they know the area is a ticking time bomb?” He spat on the floor as anger filled him.
“Agreed,” Bishop said.
He glanced around at the terrified embassy workers. Were they pleased with their actions, or did they realized how much they’d messed up?
“We have a helicopter coming in,” Jackson said as he stepped closer.
“What about surface to air missiles?” Striker asked.
“Command said the SAMs were cleared,” Jackson added.
“I don’t feel right about it,” Bishop said.
Striker agreed with Bishop. “Something is off.”
“We have to get these people out. You have a better plan?” Jackson lifted his eyebrows and his lips turned down in a frown.
Th
e tension grew, and Striker shifted from one foot to the other. His team was not happy these adults had left the safety of the American Embassy for some stupid team building activity in the middle of an unstable foreign country. His agitation grew as he thought the man who planned this had to be an idiot.
Striker forced himself to calm. He headed up to the room after twenty minutes of standing around. He was up higher than the rest of the buildings, but still, there were too many places for the enemy to hide. Add to it the thick forest circling the compound, and they were up shit creek. If the other side got themselves together and attacked, this would be his end.
One hour passed, then another. His headset crackled, and Jackson’s spoke. “Chopper heading our way. Two minutes to intercept.”
Striker scanned the horizon, watching for any movement. After a few seconds, he picked up the helicopter in the distance. A buzz of excitement filtered through him. Then everything went to hell.
The surface to air missile site wasn’t disabled. The chopper went down in a burst of light. Jackson cursed over the earpiece. This was turning into a shit show in hell. No way everyone had survived on that chopper. Heck, he’d bet his next paycheck most were dead.
They were trapped, and he hated the odds stacked against them. He guessed they could work their way out, walking to an exfil location. Then the high whine of a bullet whizzing past had him dropping to the roof. Striker hid behind the parapet that wrapped around the top of the building.
“Shit.”
“What’s up, Striker?” Whitney asked over the headset.
“Someone is shooting at me.”
“Not good,” Bishop said. “I’ll head to the roof to help.”
“No, Bishop,” Whitney stated. “I need you on a team heading to the far edge of the property. The guy in charge of the embassy just told me a family is stuck out in a building at the edge of the property and is afraid to come here.”
“Shit,” Striker said.
Bishop grunted but didn’t curse. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Striker stay in position,” Whitney commanded. “Hit anything that moves.”
“Yes, sir.”
He checked his equipment, making sure everything was in place. He had four cartridges ready. Tommy had brought along extra ammunition. If this went bad, they’d have to spend their downtime filling cartridges.
Gunfire erupted again.
They were up shit creek, and the enemy didn’t care what the rules of combat were supposed to be. As far as they were concerned, these men and women were complicit in the terror many in this nation lived through every day.
The sharp whine of a shell heading his way made Striker duck for cover. The missile missed the building but was too close. This was getting dangerous.
“Everyone. Downstairs. We’re moving,” Jackson yelled.
Striker grabbed his gun and shouldered his pack. He took off, running downstairs to catch up with the other men. Their paramedic had stabilized the people who’d been shot, and they were ready to move.
Striker came up behind Whitney. “Why are we leaving?”
“Bishop’s group found a better building; it’s smaller with a natural block behind it. We’re in the open here. They expect us to be here. Those mortar shells are going to hit us soon if we don’t move.”
As if to prove his point, a shell struck close, and the building shuddered. A few ceiling tiles fell, crashing to the floor, and chaos erupted. The people they were sent to rescue started running out the back door of the building. Jackson bellowed for them to stop, and one of the other Rangers caught a few of the people, but the embassy employees didn’t listen worth crap. They were running away from Army Rangers and into danger.
Gunfire erupted again. Six of the diplomats went down in the dirt about ten yards outside the building. He stared out at the scene, thinking they were guarding the dumbest of the dumb. The remaining diplomats raced to cower behind Rangers. Striker moved into position to shoot anyone or anything that came at them.
Whitney cursed under his breath and pointed at one of the guys from the embassy who seemed to be in charge. “You, come here.”
Striker had been on Whitney’s bad side before, and it wasn’t pretty. For Whitney to be angry took a lot, like Striker had found out previously. This was going to be hard to watch.
The man’s voice shook when he spoke. “Y-yes?”
“I told your people to stay still. That meant no movement. They ran outside, and now they are dead. What part of ‘stay still’ do you not understand?"
“You should have stopped them,” the guy said.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Whitney yelled. “Were we supposed to handcuff them? You listen to us from here on out. I don’t care what job you have at the embassy, we’re in charge. If you don’t like that and if you want to die, do it on your own. If you want to actually live, then listen to me. Like really listen to me this time. Every command I give, you follow like your life depends on it because it does.”
The embassy employee straightened his shoulders, and his lips turned down. “You were going to have us go out there. They would have died anyway.”
“No, we were lining up here, and we were going to send one guy out to survey the area. We weren’t going to send people running out into the night screaming.” Whitney looked around the room, shaking his head.
“Taking heavy fire,” Bishop said over the earpiece.
“Shit,” Jackson cursed.
“We’re fucked,” a woman behind Striker said.
They were. This was bad. They were in a foreign land where most of the inhabitants wanted them dead. There wasn’t going to be an easy escape. They had to knock out the surface to air missiles, get rid of the people in the trees firing on them, and somehow get these pampered idiots to listen to them. He’d run into difficult missions before, but this was ridiculous. These people seemed like they didn’t actually want to live.
Striker moved to Whitney and Jackson and kept his voice low as he spoke. “We’ve got to get rid of the missile sites.”
Whitney met Jackson’s gaze. They shook their heads. Striker took a step closer to them, hoping to press his point.
“It’s the only way,” he stated. “We have to get the heck out of here. No one will come in to pick us up until that missile site is gone.”
Whitney sighed. “He’s right. But it’s dangerous.”
“We need air support too,” Jackson said.
Whitney pulled out his phone and dialed into command. He stepped away and discussed the situation with the technical operations unit running the show. It didn’t look like a fun call from Striker’s perspective.
“I don’t like this,” Jackson said.
“Nope, I don’t either. I don’t like that Bishop and the rest of the guys are pinned down.”
Whitney ended his call and stepped over. “They don’t have a drone, and they’re working on getting access to a satellite overhead. We have to do this the old-fashioned way, blind as a bat and moving on hope and a prayer.”
Striker nodded. “Okay, I’ll take a group and move to Bishop’s position. We’ll take down whoever is pinning them in. Then we’ll head to the missile site.”
Whitney nodded. “Sounds good. Take Jackson, Brady, Ben, and Rand. We’ll clear out the group here.”
Jackson stepped closer to Whitney, his gaze landing on the group from the embassy who’d been held hostage. “These diplomats, do you think they can actually handle doing what you tell them to do?”
Whitney looked back and shook his head. “Who knows. They don’t really have too much choice though, do they.”
“I guess not,” Jackson said with a chuckle in his voice.
Jackson rounded up the guys for Striker, and they crept down a long hall while Whitney prepared a group of men to provide cover fire. They were risking it all, taking a huge chance heading out to disable the missile launcher, but they didn’t have much choice. If they didn’t take down the surface to air missiles, everyone woul
d be dead before the end of the day. His team had to make these assholes regret taking on this group of Americans even if they shouldn’t have been out here at the resort in the first place.
“Alpha one, this is alpha two, heading out,” Striker said.
The pop-pop of gunfire erupted, and he motioned for his team to follow. They made it across the lawn to another building before they encountered anyone. Rand took him down fast and they moved closer to Bishop.
The building Bishop was near had already taken heavy fire and was missing its roof. They were in a terrible position and were pinned in on two sides. Now, they were taking fire again. Striker’s crew set up and took out four of the men aiming to destroy Bishop’s group.
“Move closer?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah, we should have a better angle on them.” Striker didn’t want to end up being trapped here, so they stalked around the back of another building before they moved into position. He was about to rush forward when someone fired a rocket-propelled grenade at the building where Bishop and his crew were pinned in. Panic flashed, but he had to push it away and focus. The secondary explosion knocked him back on his ass.
“Fuck, what was that?” Whitney said in his ear.
“RPG directed at Bishop,” Jackson replied.
Striker took aim, firing twice, taking out the guy with the RPG. He moved forward, getting closer to the building that was now up in flames.
“Bishop, you in there?” Jackson called out.
“Sure am,” Bishop replied. “We have injured.”
Striker was about to move when two guys stepped around a building. He fired, taking one down. Then Rand took out the other guy. In minutes, the two new combatants were dead and they were clear to move to Bishop.
Striker entered the building where Bishop and his crew were. They’d been hit hard. No one was dead, but they were all injured. Ben bent down and picked up the worst injured of Bishop’s men, carrying him out of the burning building.
