SEALs of Winter: A military romance superbundle

by Seton, Cora

  Against good judgment, Ty agreed. “Just a few minutes more. This bird is struggling.”

  “I’m getting weird readings now. We must be getting close.” Preston stared at his computer as if willing the thing to stand up and point a virtual finger toward Crow. “Come on, come on. Wait. I’ve got something! Yes. It’s a signal like the one I picked up on base. One more second for the GPS to catch up and…there. We’ve got them!”

  “Where?”

  “Huh. This is impossible.” Preston was frowning, big time. “The GPS must be wrong.”

  “Not likely. Give me the coordinates. We’ll fly over…” An alarm went off on the recorder he brought along. He pulled his eyes from the icing windshield. “That can’t be right.”

  “What’s the alarm for?” Preston asked.

  Ty didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to determine if his recorder had gone wonky too. The recorder registered gunfire coming from the ground. That had to be bullshit. Sleet pounded their frame, not bullets. He refused to buy it until something pinged off the corner of his window, leaving a hole.

  “Dammit!” Ty scrambled for the radio.

  “Don’t give us away,” Preston said. “Crow can’t know we’re here to spy on him.”

  He threw Preston a dirty look. “Not my first pony ride, man.” Speaking calmly into the radio he said, “This is November one seven four whiskey, AS 350 Airbus. Tourists from Arizona. We got lost in the storm. If someone can hear me, will you direct us toward Fairbanks? Over.”

  No verbal response from the ground, but the artillery rounds stopped.

  Ty grinned. “It worked. Whoever is shooting down there has a radio. Maybe it’s hunters trying to scare us away from their game.”

  “Hunters shoot at helicopters?” Preston shook his head. “That’s messed up.”

  Yes, it was. He’d seen worse. “When we get back, I’ll notify the Army. They can take matters into their own hands.” The recorder alarm went off again. Only this time the flippin’ thing went ballistic, which meant a ground-to-air missile was locked on them. Even as his brain registered the impossibility of getting shot down in the U.S., his instincts went into action.

  “Incoming!”

  He sent the helo for a dive and a loop. Another loop. Straight up to one thousand feet.

  “A freakin’…” Preston threw up on the floor and then choked out, “…missile?”

  Ty scanned the air. “Here it comes again, hang tight.”

  He put the airbus into a freefall, knowing the helo might not recover from it. But unless he had another miracle up his sleeve, they were going down one way or another. Tundra zoomed up to meet them and the missile threatened to burn up their tail. He banked right and pulled up. The missile shot through the tail, slicing the back end clean off. The impact sent them into a wild spin, slowing their descent for a few rotations. Frantically, his feet worked the yaw pedals, but it was no use; there was no tail rotor, no way to stop the crazy teacup ride.

  The wounded bird fell out of the sky.

  “Brace yourself!” He yelled over the howling wind coming through the gaping hole and the screech of the dying helicopter.

  “Oh, shit! No, no, God no.” Preston’s eyes were wild with fear, his voice rising with the incredulous sound of a man seeing his own death.

  Parachuting was useless. “Too close. Too close…”

  Ty pulled up on the controls and aimed for a deep snowy embankment. He never once took his eyes off the target, even as he drove straight into it. The impact—metal grinding, twisting, screaming—was louder than a “Willy’s Special” grenade. The thought stung. He always believed he’d suck in his last breath fighting beside Mack, Tavon, Willy, and Charlie. The SEAL EXtreme Team.

  How would they survive without him?

  He threw his arms up. Glass exploded in his face, and the snowbank swallowed them whole.

  Chapter Two

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  Holly Colton stomped the snow from her boots and opened the glass doors to Lover’s Lodge. The pine tree fragrance overwhelmed her. Christmas trees, four small ones, lined the hallway to the lobby. Lights looped in waves around the check-in desk; holly berries, wreaths, and red candles decorated every available free spot inside the lodge. The bear head on the wall wore a Santa’s hat. Big Jake, the owner of Lovers’ Lodge, was into Christmas in a large way. She would be too if she had loved ones to share it with. Loneliness snuck up on her.

  No. Shake it off. She had no business being lonely when she’d fought so hard for her freedom. Her life.

  Pushing aside a cluster of pine cones, she reached over the counter to grab the sign-up clipboard. Darn it. Not one tourist had signed up for her dog sledding tour into the Gates of the Arctic National Park.

  Holly sighed. “I may have to rethink things.” Like how she was going to pay her bills.

  Big Jake handed her a breakfast croissant and cup of Joe so thick the Starbucks baristas back in DC would’ve shivered. “Don’t worry, Holly-girl. It’s always like this in the dead of winter. Come Spring, you’ll have more tourists than you can handle.”

  She liked Big Jake. He was the first guy she’d been able to have a real conversation with since she fled Washington DC and the first Tanana tribal person she’d ever met. His round face was open and inviting. His dark eyes squinted when he smiled. That deep rumbling baritone soothed her like a warm bubble bath. Yes, she liked him.

  But they both knew he was lying.

  The other mushers at Lovers’ Lodge had plenty of sign-ups. Tourists flocked to the well-known sledders. Why not? Many of those guys had lived in Alaska all their lives, and a few had competed in the Iditarod. Why would anyone trust her to drive their sled? She was a skinny white chick with a slight Kentucky drawl who’d never competed in anything except beauty contests. A lot of good those had done her. Winning the Miss Kentucky crown had turned out to be a gun to her head. She wouldn’t have met Ronald if she hadn’t won the thing. She’d have a life.

  Frowning, she hung the clipboard back on the tiny nail. What she wouldn’t give to finish a sled dog race. Iditarod mushers were strong, independent, and amazing. She’d never been any of those things. Strong. What did that feel like? For far too long, her heart beat and her lungs filled up and exhaled air, but she was only pretending to be alive. And there were days, really bad days, when survival seemed impossible.

  Last year, the final straw had hit her like a freight train. She awoke in the ER, struggling to breathe with cracked ribs and a busted nose. Peeling her swollen eyes open, she blinked at the familiar ER doctor.

  “You can’t keep showing up here like this. Report him,” the doctor said. “I don’t care who he is. He can’t keep hurting you like this.”

  “I fell down the stairs again,” she murmured.

  He looked her in the swollen eye. “He might kill you next time.”

  There would be no “might” if she reported Ronald. It was the only promise she was sure her brutal husband would keep.

  “I’m clumsy.”

  He placed a card in her hand. “Call them. Make a plan, and get the hell out. Please. You’re a really nice lady. I like you a lot, but I don’t want to see you in here again.”

  When he left her bedside, she turned the card over. Protection for Battered Women.

  It was the best call she’d ever made. While Ronald was off filibustering, she snuck out of the house and met a group of women who’d been where she was and made it to the other side. They taught her it wasn’t good enough to survive. She needed to live. Really live. She made her plan and ran as far she could go. Alaska.

  She wasn’t going back to DC.

  Now she was trying to take control of her life and maybe, just maybe, find the strong, independent, and amazing Holly Colton she knew she could be. Like the brave men and women who raced the Iditarod. The first step was becoming a musher, and that took funds she didn’t have. So far she’d only been able to afford two dogs and a small sled. She’d need at least twelve dogs and a lar
ge sled for the Iditarod.

  “Don’t look so sad, sweet girl. It’ll be all right.” Big Jake refilled her coffee cup. She’d drank it already? She couldn’t remember bringing the cup to her lips. Sometimes her mind went dark. When memories were too scary, she’d shut down for a while.

  She shook off the blackness. “I hope you’re right. The dogs are eating my paycheck faster than I bring it home. I need those tips.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t let you starve. Come to dinner tonight after your practice run. My lovely wife has been harping on me to bring you home. We’ll have smoked caribou.”

  “That sounds…different.” She turned on her fake smile but inside her heart twisted. She couldn’t stop picturing the beautiful caribou she saw in the wild running free. But the Tanana tribe lived responsibly off the land and had for thousands of years. They were a big part of animal conservation in Alaska. Her real smile came through. “You and Sherry are so nice to me.”

  “It’s easy. You’re as sweet as an olallieberry. I’ll tell Sherry to set another plate. Oh, I almost forgot to invite you for Christmas morning too. You’ve got to come. Gifts, breakfast, the whole nine yards. You’re family now.” He touched her.

  It was a split second. A gentle hand on her shoulder. Kindness. But he’d surprised her, and she didn’t do touch-without-warning very well. The horror she’d been holding tight inside her uncoiled. The past came roaring back like a slap that rattled her teeth. She jumped backward, spilling her coffee on Big Jake’s worn leather boots.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry.” She squatted and tried to dry his boots with the tiny napkin that had come with her croissant. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Dumb. So dumb.”

  “My fault.” He crouched too, his large knees popping. “Stop, Holly. It’s okay. Sherry told me you don’t like to be touched. I forgot. It’s no big deal.”

  She looked up into his large face. He gave her his squinty-eyed smile, complete with a view of his crooked front tooth. Tears welled in her eyes. It was a big deal. She was getting better. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. “I…I’ll see you later.” She left her croissant behind. She wasn’t hungry.

  Racing back to her tiny cabin, she mumbled over and over, Nothing can hurt me in Alaska. I’m okay. It was her mantra. If she said it enough times, would she eventually believe it?

  Lucy, her white and gray medium-haired Alaskan Husky, greeted her at the door with a gentle lick. After closing the door behind her, Holly bent and pressed her face into the dog’s thick fur. “Now, why can’t I touch people like this, huh?”

  Lucy cocked her head as if trying to understand.

  “It’s okay, girl. I love you no matter what.” She gave her a squeeze. Lucy was the closest thing to a best friend she had. The dog had saved her life. “I’d still be lost without you.”

  Lucy nibbled her chin softly.

  “Ready for a run?”

  Lucy barked and ran around in joyful circles.

  Holly laughed. “Yeah, I thought so. Let’s get your lug of a boyfriend, and we’ll go.”

  Conan, her huge black and white Husky-Malamute, was sleeping on the rug by the back door. She pushed his hind leg with the toe of her boot. “You are the laziest sled dog I’ve ever seen. Look at Lucy. She’s fired up to go.”

  Lucy barked in agreement, and Conan licked her paw. Holly smiled. What would it be like to be loved like that? A few foot kisses wouldn’t be bad.

  After packing up the small sled, she harnessed the dogs and drove them out into the woods. It was supposed to be a short run because the weather was unpredictable this time of year and bitter cold. But Holly felt the old demons chasing her down. She drove the dogs faster and farther from town.

  The sled glided along new snow. Fast and slick. She sucked in a deep breath of clean pine-scented air as the trees whizzed by. God, she loved Alaska. The pristine beauty and quiet was a balm to her deep wounds. Being alone in the wilderness with her dogs suited her just fine. They loved her all the time and didn’t slap her silly during a drunken binge.

  Conan started to drag his feet.

  “Come on, Conan. Hike!” He was still learning the ropes as a sled dog and was running out of steam. One blue eye glanced over his broad shoulders at her as if to say, Really, Mom? Can’t we stop to eat now?

  The dog was like a starving teenager with ADD and raging hormones. He ate like a bear, couldn’t focus on the task at hand, and was in lust with the lead bitch. She’d been told dogs burned up to 10,000 calories a day during the Iditarod, and the musher had to bring all the food. Conan could eat more than that now. If she was going to use him to compete in the race next season, he’d have to find his focus. He was strong, she’d give him that. If only he’d work like he was supposed to, they’d be all right.

  Lucy, on the other hand, was born to be a lead dog. If Holly could win an Iditarod, as she planned to do, it would be with Lucy.

  “We’ll eat when we stop, Conan. Keep moving.”

  Snow was falling hard, and the winds picked up. She thought about turning around, but decided to stick it out a bit longer. It was good practice. If she got stuck in a snow storm during the Iditarod, she’d have to tough it out. The dogs would have to get used to weathering storms too. The Iditarod didn’t wait for a balmy day. She drove the team on hoping she could teach Conan how to become an Iditarod dog by practicing with her measle two-dog sled.

  Thunder cracked open the sky, and Conan howled. “Shh. What a baby. Just a little farther, and we’ll turn around.”

  Popping sounds came from the thick woods. Pulling her parka away from her ears, she listened again. Hunters? On a day like today? She could hardly see through the sleet.

  “Haw.” She steered the dogs to the left. She didn’t want any snow-blind hunters to mistake her dogs for game. Another distinct sound came from above. A helicopter was up there but it couldn’t be a sightseeing tour. No guide in his right mind would take tourists up in this weather. Search and Rescue aircrew? The gunshots! Someone was lost in the woods, or maybe injured, and trying to signal the helicopter.

  Chewing her lip, she debated what to do. She’d been lost and afraid many times in her life. The new-trying-to-be-amazing Holly should be willing to help lost souls. Plus, these woods were so thick it might take a Search and Rescue crew days to find the lost party. She had a cell phone with spotty coverage in these woods, but maybe on extended service she could get a call out. She pulled the phone out of her pocket. The signal was doing weird things—two bars, no bars, and then it claimed it was out of service. She’d never seen it do that before.

  “Hike. Gee,” she ordered the team to get them moving.

  She drove the sled through the thick groves, slaloming through the trees. Lucy seemed to know exactly what to do, and Conan was smart enough to follow her lead. The gunshots were closer now. Holly smiled. She’d get to the lost party in a matter of minutes and call in the exact GPS location. She had hot coffee and blankets to keep the people warm before the rescue team arrived.

  Just then she saw a flash of light shoot through the trees and into the air followed by strange whistle. What was that? A flare? The dark sky exploded with blazing light. The helicopter had been hit.

  “Oh, no.”

  Smoke poured out of the helicopter. It spun wildly, screeching above her. It was going to crash!

  “Gee. Gee!” She ordered the dogs to turn around. “Hike! Run!”

  The dogs ran so fast she couldn’t see the trees anymore. It was all a wild, blind whir around her. She held on for dear life and prayed they’d get out of the way fast enough. Tears flew out of her eyes. She couldn’t catch her breath. Branches snagged her arms, legs, and the sled, still the dogs ran. Faster, she begged.

  The crash behind her was unlike anything she’d ever heard. The ground shook beneath her runners. Bile filled her mouth, and she started to tremble. She didn’t want to imagine what she’d see back there. Had the people on the ground been hurt too?

  “Easy. W
hoa.” She stopped the sled to turn the dogs around again, but Conan refused to move. She understood. He was scared and tired. A huge machine just fell out of the sky nearly squashing them. “Hike, Conan. We need to go back.”

  He didn’t glance her way. Instead, he growled and pointed his nose toward the bushes. Lucy smelled something too and joined in with her I mean business bark.

  The hair on the back of Holly’s neck perked up. What was out there? Wolves? Bears?

  “Ignore them. We have people to save in that helicopter.” Or bodies to recover. She shivered. “On by.”

  Conan refused to ignore whatever was in the woods. He growled louder, and neither dog moved. Holly strained to see through the trees. It was so dark and spooky out there. Her breath puffed in a thick white cloud. Something big crashed near them and before she could react, a bull moose barreled out of the woods. She’d never seen one move so fast. It must have been startled by the helicopter crash. The thing was huge, easily over seven feet tall, and weighed around fifteen hundred pounds. The bull’s horns had not been shed for the winter yet. This was going to be bad.

  “Come on, guys,” she begged. “Move it!”

  Refusing to turn tail, Lucy lifted her lips and flashed her sharp teeth. Conan followed suit as if willing to die beside her. The grunting bull kept coming. His ears were back, and he licked his lips in warning. They had to get out of his way, or he’d trample the dogs with his long powerful legs. Moose were highly unpredictable and extremely dangerous. They attacked people more often than bears did. Worse, they hated dogs, and it would kill hers if it got the chance. Holly scrambled for her rifle, but her hands were in thick gloves, and she couldn’t get it out of the pouch fast enough. Plus, her hands were shaking. She’d never killed an animal before, but these were her babies and she’d do what she must.