Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Rescuing Melina (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Guardian Elite Book 3)

by KaLyn Cooper

  As Melina filled her shopping cart with name brand items, she was extremely thankful for the money she’d stashed away all those years she’d worked outside the United States. Perusing the meat counter, she was once again thrilled that professionals had created easy-to-make main courses and lined them in neat rows garnished with crisp greens. When her stomach growled, she wasn’t sure if she could handle food yet, thanks to the angry scene at the hospital. That morning, she hadn’t been able to eat a thing, knowing she’d have to end her relationship with Jacin. She’d managed to keep down her favorite Colombian blend of coffee, though the smell of toasting bagel and scrambled eggs had flipped her stomach. She’d tossed them in the trash and left to face her future…alone.

  Admitting she should eat, Melina studied the offerings. Did she want chicken Cordon Bleu? It was one of her favorites. Was she hungry enough for a steak? She’d seen a gas grill on Austin’s balcony but wasn’t sure if the propane tank was full. Although the stuffed pork chops looked delicious, that was far too much food for her to eat.

  “How can I help you, ma’am?” The man behind the counter asked with a smile as he opened the back of the case. “If you’re feeling like chicken tonight, I just made these up fresh. We use an herb butter to coat the split breast then wrap provolone cheese around the asparagus and tuck it inside. Last, we wrap it all up in bacon ’cause who doesn’t like bacon? It’s a favorite here in the store.”

  The description had her mouth watering. “That sounds delicious. I’d appreciate it if you package one of those up for me.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure, ma’am.” The man finished lining up the remaining wrapped chicken breasts in the case, leaving the one he had personally selected aside. “Give me a minute, and I’ll have that ready for you.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t see a price on the chicken you just put out.” The slender woman next to Melina looked hungrily into the case.

  Melina hadn’t considered the cost. It sounded delicious, perhaps not as healthy given the butter and bacon he’d mentioned, but it was the meal she decided to cook for herself that night.

  When the attendant behind the counter mentioned the price, Melina watched the younger woman wince before she called out her thanks and moved on. Dreadful memories of Melina’s penny-pinching teen years surfaced before she brushed them aside and considered returning to the vegetable area to pick up romaine lettuce for salad to accompany her meal.

  Wandering through the aisles and filling her cart with man food, Melina ran into the young woman again. Covertly watching her had been easy since she seemed to be preoccupied by inner thoughts and carefully selecting inexpensive brands. She had the saddest brown eyes, as though she’d recently received bad news. Right outside of the Army base, that could mean her husband, or a friend, had been killed in action. Automatically, Melina’s gaze dropped to the woman’s left-hand. No gold band or engagement ring. Perhaps she’d recently lost a friend.

  The pain of losing Jacin speared her heart, and Melina leaned heavily on her cart handle. But she hadn’t lost Jacin. She’d shoved him away. She had no one to blame but herself.

  “Are you all right?”

  Melina opened her eyes, not realizing she closed them to hold back the stream of tears that threatened to overflow. The woman she’d just been observing now stood at the other end of the shopping cart.

  Melina forced a smile. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  The pretty woman stared at her for several heartbeats. Only then did Melina notice the purple streak in her hair that screamed defiant and fun. “Okay.” With that single word, she turned and strode down to the end of the aisle to shop for soup.

  Scanning her full cart, amazed at the amount of food she’d selected for her brother, she grinned wondering if he even knew how to cook half the dishes she’d planned. She could probably kill several hours writing out recipes and instructions. It would be a much better use of her time then wallowing in self-pity.

  Ten minutes later, she found herself in the checkout line behind the woman she seemed to have followed through the entire grocery store.

  “Can you show me a total of what I have so far?” The woman who had spoken so kindly to her minutes ago, stood with her wallet open as she counted its contents. When the cashier gave her a subtotal, Melina watched the grimace cross her already worried face before she glanced back and forth between her current purchases and items remaining in her basket. “I’ll just put these back, but I need these.”

  With an understanding glance, the cashier said nothing as she subtracted items, setting them aside, and added new ones. When she announced the total, the woman handed over several bills then recounted the remaining money.

  “Do you want help carrying this out?” the fresh-faced high school boy who’d bagged her groceries asked.

  Embarrassed, she didn’t look at the kid. Winding her arms through the loops on the plastic bags, she said in a very small voice, “Thanks. I’ve got this.”

  Melina had already unloaded half her cart onto the belt as she looked at the pile of store brand soup, spaghetti noodles, off-brand baloney, and a bag of carrots as well as several other items.

  Well, hell. Melina glanced at her half-full cart before returning her gaze to the unpurchased food set off to the side.

  Catching the cashiers gaze, she instructed, “Would you please ring up those items first?”

  Confusion written all over her face, the cashier asked, “That stuff the other lady left?”

  “Yes, quickly.” Melina dug into her purse for her wallet and extracted a ten-dollar bill. Handing it to the wide-eyed bag boy, she ordered, “Please take these items out to the woman with a purple streak in her hair who just left. If she gives you grief, tell her she forgot to pick up these bags.”

  The register beeped rapidly as the cashier swiped barcodes across the glass plate and handed the items directly to the young man. As she handed him the last can of soup, she ordered, “Hurry, Danny, and get right back in here. This lady’s gonna need your help.” Smiling at Melina, her hands never stopped moving groceries through the checkout. “That’s a mighty fine thing you just done.”

  As the cashiers gaze dropped over Melina, she could feel the forty-something woman totaling her as quickly as her groceries. She paid her salon $250 every six weeks for the haircut and golden highlights. The logo on the crisp, button-down shirt screamed money as did the tailored slacks. The wedge sandals she wore probably cost more than the clerk made in a week. Yes, Melina liked nice clothes and could now afford them.

  As the uniformed cashier slid the last item toward the new bag boy, she paused and looked directly into Melina’s eyes and lowered her voice. “Why did you do it? Pay for that other lady’s groceries?”

  “I used to be her.” Melina was embarrassed when her voice cracked on the small sentence.

  “Don’t look like you’re her anymore.”

  “No, but I’ve never forgotten what it’s like to be hungry.” Melina signed a small plastic screen and pushed her overflowing cart into the parking lot.

  “Look, I was told to bring these bags to you.” The first bagger held out the groceries to the woman whose purple streak gleamed in the midday Texan sun.

  “Who told you these were mine?”

  The teen used that opportunity to shove the bags into the woman’s arms. “That lady.” He pointed toward Melina as he trotted back to the store.

  When the woman approached her, arms extended as though to give back the three bags of groceries, she explained, “I believe these are your groceries, not mine.”

  Melina shook her head. “No. I’m positive those are yours. The boy had yet to pack them up when you grabbed your bags and left. All I did was insist he catch you.”

  Nearly in tears, the woman stood a little straighter as sad brown eyes met Melina’s darker ones. “Thank you. I appreciate this.” She held out her hand. “I’m Mary Weston.”

  “Melina Torres.” Staying with that name seemed as good an idea as
any.

  As they shook hands, Mary explained, “I had to wait for my prescriptions to be filled at the pharmacy across the street so I thought I’d pick up a few things. They’re new medicines, so I don’t know how much my insurance company is going to cover. I wanted to be sure I had enough left for the co-pay.”

  Melina wanted to hug her. The young woman was proud, yet willing to accept a gift.

  “I understand.” Melina gave her what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, but she really had no idea what Mary was going through. Ever since starting to work for the government, she’d never had to pay for healthcare of any kind. As a child, they had always been on government assistance and never paid for insurance or medical bills.

  Tires screeched and they both looked down the row of parked cars. An old brown panel van came around the end, speeding straight toward them. Squealing to a stop five feet away, the side door opened.

  Both women jumped back between parked cars.

  Two men wearing long sleeves and ski masks jumped out.

  Melina shoved her cart aside and took a fighting stance.

  Damn it. My gun is in the SUV.

  She never considered for an instant that she’d need weapons now that she was back in the United States. In Colombia, she carried a gun and several knives even when relaxing around her own home, plus several more were hidden so she was never more than an arm’s reach from a weapon.

  “Which one?” called the guy on the right.

  “Fuck if I know,” the other man he replied. “We’ll grab them both.”

  “Like hell you will!” Melina blocked Mary, willing to take on both men with her bare hands.

  3

  Panic threatened Mary when the ugly brown van skidded to a stop right in front of her and the gorgeous, kind-hearted woman. What had she said her name was? At the moment, Xena Warrior Princess seemed appropriate as she took a fighting stance.

  Well, Mary was not about to let herself get kidnapped. Her friend, Rayne, bore the bruises for weeks inflicted when she’d been caught in the middle of a failed coup in Egypt and still had nightmares. These days, Keane "Ghost" Bryson, the Delta Force operator who had saved her, dealt with her best friend’s memories and fears.

  Oh my God. Was that why they were trying to kidnap her? Were they going to use her to get to the men on Delta Force?

  She didn’t know them very well, although she liked every one of the men and their girlfriends. They had taken her under their wing and engulfed her into their very exclusive group.

  Thoughts of Truck, and their confusing relationship, flashed to the forefront of her mind.

  Hell, no. They would not use her to get to any of her friends, especially Truck. They definitely wouldn’t take her willingly.

  Mary stepped beside the caramel skinned woman, the heaviest bags of groceries in each hand. When the man on the left approached her, her immediate focus went to his bad teeth peeking through the small mouth hole of the mask. She didn’t want this man anywhere near her.

  Biding her time, measuring the distance between her arm’s length and ugly teeth, she clamped down the fear that threatened to overtake her. For one brief second she questioned her choice of fight or flight. Melina’s decision—that was her name, she remembered excitedly and quickly congratulated yourself—to fight had solidified Mary’s own resolve.

  Judging he was close enough, Mary brought up the bag in her right hand swinging toward the man’s head. Her left hand shot straight up, and clinking cans headed for the kidnapper’s balls.

  Unfortunately, he must’ve seen the bag moving his way. Leaning back, the groceries swooshed past his face, but the momentum pulled Mary around so the bag of cans brushed across his thigh several inches from their target. Before she could regain her balance, he wrapped strong arms around her, rendering her helpless. Although she was a tall woman, he had several inches on her.

  She twisted and wiggled, kicking fiercely. “Put me down, asshole.”

  He lifted her off the pavement, as though she weighed nothing, and strode deliberately the few feet to the van.

  “Help! Someone help me!” Her gaze whipped around the parking lot but saw no one.

  He tossed her onto the metal floor of the van. Before she could scramble to her feet, someone shoved a bag over her head. The thick black cloth smelled of fear and vomit. The realization they’d done this before sent cold chills through Mary. Flailing to find purchase so she could roll to her hands and knees, someone quickly grabbed her wrists and bound them behind her back. Even though she kicked as hard as she could, her ankles were soon captured and tied.

  “Let me go!” Melina screamed.

  Hoping someone might hear them yell, Mary joined in the pleas. “Let me out of here! Help! Someone, please help us!”

  “Shut up, bitches.” The man’s voice was gruff and even more threatening because she couldn’t see him. “You’re worth big money to Pablo Valez, and we intend to collect.”

  The sound of the side door closing sealed their fate.

  Mary’s heart pounded so hard she could hear every beat in her ears. She’d never been this scared in her life, even as she faced cancer. She knew she could beat to the bitch that lived within her body and tried to kill her, but these men were so much bigger than her. They were stronger. She could never overpower them.

  They were to be sold? Mary had heard about women being kidnapped and sold into the sex trade, but she wasn’t some beautiful, young virgin. She could understand why they wanted Melina. The woman was beyond gorgeous with that confident, almost regal way she carried herself. Their captors would get a lot of money for her, but Mary didn’t think she would be worth much. Was that to be her destiny? Some man’s sex slave? The idea repulsed her.

  She’d never even had sex with Truck. Her denying them both that pleasure suddenly became her greatest regret as warm wet tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She sniffed.

  The van turned a corner and Mary rolled over and over until she hit the metal wall. A grunt escaped. Damn, that hurt. Using the wall, she maneuvered into a sitting position.

  “Mary, are you all right?” Melina’s muffled voice sounded several feet away.

  “I’m okay.” Her standard reply popped out. No, she wasn’t okay. The response to become automatic as Rayne, and all her other friends, had constantly asked about her physical condition.

  “Keep talking. Going to try to wiggle my way to you.” Melina sounded so confident.

  Mary was oddly comforted by the fact she wasn’t alone. Maybe Melina Warrior Princess could figure out a way for them to escape before this Pablo Valez showed up to take possession of his new purchases. Perhaps these men wouldn’t hurt them. No one wanted to buy damaged merchandise. Right?

  When the van came to a sudden stop, Mary fell over hard onto her shoulder. She felt Melina next to her and together they were able to sit side-by-side, supporting each other as the van wound its way through Killeen.

  The van finally stopped and idled for a few minutes before creeping forward. The unmistakable sound of a garage door closing could be heard over the men speaking in Spanish. They were probably discussing how they were going to spend the money the Valez dude would be paying them.

  At the opening of the side door, Mary’s entire body began to shake uncontrollably. This was it. She was hoisted over someone’s shoulder and carried for what seemed to be several minutes. She could feel them going down a long set of steps.

  Of course they’ll keep us in the basement. En suite bedrooms with maid service would be too much to ask.

  Suddenly, Mary was flying through the air.

  She landed with her bottom on a chair. The men exchanged a few words, again in Spanish. Damn, she whished she knew their language so she could understand what they were saying.

  “Let me go,” Melina threatened a few feet away. As the other woman fought the men, Mary’s imagination ran wild as to what they were doing to her. The men yelled words Mary didn’t understand, and Melina shrieked back in the same
language between yelps and screams. Were they touching her? Trying to rape her? She heard a chair scrape then fall over followed by more harsh, deep voices. Would she be next?

  Mary dragged in a stuttered breath.

  Fuck. There was no air in the bag that covered Mary’s entire head. Some kind of drawstring secured it around her neck. She sipped air and tried to stop her shaking body.

  “Now sit there and shut up.” The man had spoken in English.

  Footsteps drew closer. “P…p…please don’t hurt me,” Mary begged.

  “Cooperate and we won’t have to,” the man ordered.

  “Wha…what are you going to do to me?” she managed to ask.

  “We tie you to the chair. You be good, no kick, no fight us, and we take bag off.”

  Getting rid of the fucking bag, being able to breathe again, she’d do as she was told. “Okay.” She gasped for air. “But you promise…” Gasp. “To take this thing off my head?”

  “You no fight, right? Not like the other bitch.” The words came inches from her cheek.

  The shudder started with her head and ended with her tied feet bouncing on the floor.

  “I’ll… I promise not to resist.” Then she quickly added, “Just get this fucking bag off my head.”

  When the two men chuckled, she realized one was on each side of her. She felt her ankle restraints released. That freedom only lasted a millisecond before hands grabbed her calves and pulled them apart. She was immediately retied to the legs of the chair. Automatically, she slammed her knees together to feel less vulnerable.

  The process was repeated with her hands as her captors wrapped her arms behind the back of the chair and retied them.

  She was about to remind them of her hood when she felt cold hands at her neck.

  “You be a good girl and hold still.” He felt even closer than before.

  She swore she could smell cigarette through the black material. She closed her eyes fearing what came next.

  A second later, the bag was snatched from her head, pulling with it a few strands of hair. With her eyes still closed, she forced in a breath. Then another deeper one. The place smelled musty, unused.