Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  “Boss, not a good idea.” Costa adjusted his grip on Randi.

  If she could slip away, knock the gun out of his hand or toward the ceiling... She didn’t even know if Zendaris was armed.

  “What are you talking about, Zendaris?” Gage shifted his body toward Costa.

  “My wife. My wife was in that munitions factory. She’d foolishly dropped by to show me some bauble she’d bought. She was there, Booker. The noble agents of Prospero murdered my wife.”

  “Your fault, Zendaris. She shouldn’t have been anywhere near that factory.”

  “But she was. Why do you think Randi’s still alive? I used her to lure you here. I could’ve had Costa take care of her in that hospital room. Now you’re going to pay. You’re all going to pay. I missed my chance with Stark and Douglas—screw-ups.”

  “They sacrificed an opportunity to nail you for the ones they loved. Did you do the same? Instead of protecting your wife, instead of keeping her out of danger, you were careless. How did she even know about the munitions factory?”

  “Shut up!”

  “Let him go.” Randi twisted in Costa’s grasp. “I lied. I started remembering about us, but I lied to him. Told him I was your nanny. I didn’t tell him anything about you, about our life together. I just want to go home with you now. I don’t want them coming after you for the death of this agent.”

  Gage jerked his head toward her. Did he realize she was lying now? She’d do anything to save him.

  “That’s very touching, Miranda. Weren’t you just insisting to me moments ago that you were my nanny?”

  “I—I don’t remember. I’m confused. I’ll go with you now. Let’s leave this place.”

  Her fingers had been clawing at Costa’s arm, trying to keep it from closing off her throat. Now she dropped one hand to her back pocket where something was poking her.

  She traced the outline of the metal file through her jeans. She had to act now or Zendaris would kill Gage. She slipped her fingers in her back pocket and pulled out the file.

  She drew her arm back and swung it across her body to stab Costa in the arm that held his weapon.

  He cursed and squeezed off a shot, the gunfire deafening in the cavernous room. Gage lunged at Costa, knocking him off his feet. Randi went down with them, pinned between the two men.

  Zendaris launched from the corner, something gleaming in his own hand. He loomed above the bodies grappling on the floor. Raising the knife with both hands, he plunged toward the back of Gage’s neck.

  Randi screamed. At the final moment, Gage twisted to the side, dragging Randi from Costa’s body. The gun exploded again as Zendaris sank his knife into Costa’s chest.

  Warm blood spattered the side of Randi’s face and she choked out a cry. Gage rolled on top of her and grabbed for the gun in Costa’s hand.

  He swung it toward Zendaris, collapsed on top of Costa, his hands still wrapped around the knife’s handle. Gage held the weapon to Zendaris’s ear and scrabbled to his haunches.

  “They’re dead, Randi. They’re both dead. It’s over.” He grabbed the black ski mask on Zendaris’s head and peeled it off.

  Randi rolled to her stomach and hitched up to her elbows. “It’s not over, Gage.”

  “It will be. It’ll be okay. You’ll regain your memory, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, Randi. I’m not giving up on you. I’m not leaving you.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s not over.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She pointed a steady finger at the face of the man lying in a pool of his own blood. “That’s not Zendaris.”

  Epilogue

  Randi surveyed the sketch artist’s finished product—a handsome man with a strong chin, aquiline nose and dark, brooding eyes.

  She released a sigh. “That’s him. That’s Nico Zendaris, my former employer.”

  Gage leaned across the table and kissed her. “Great job.”

  The sketch artist packed up her supplies and smiled. “You’ve been a dream to work with, Randi. I’ll leave this sketch to you two.”

  The artist nodded at Gage and J.D., Gage’s fellow team member from Prospero.

  Gage smoothed a corner of the drawing. “How’s Jessica doing since she came out of the coma?”

  “She’s recovering. I’d like to go back to Houston to visit her and apologize.”

  “Collateral damage in a dangerous game.” J.D. clenched his hands. “Zendaris doesn’t care who he hurts.”

  “The kids will be okay, won’t they?” Randi grabbed Gage’s hands. “You won’t use Nicky and Angelina to get to Zendaris, will you?”

  “We don’t do that, Randi.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “I don’t even know if the story that imposter told about Zendaris’s wife dying at the munitions factory is true.”

  J.D. drummed his fingers on the table. “It makes sense. He’s had a personal vendetta against the four of us in Prospero Team Three since we disrupted that deal. It goes way beyond business.”

  J.D. had come in from an extended vacation with his fiancée just to hear Randi’s report on Zendaris and to see the sketch firsthand.

  How did his fiancée feel about that? Is that what life would be like with Gage? Would she have an opportunity to find out?

  “Do you think Zendaris gave the imposter authorization to reveal the story?” Gage picked up the sketch. He couldn’t seem to leave it alone.

  “Nothing happens in that organization without Zendaris’s stamp of approval.” J.D. flicked the sketch with his finger. “I think Zendaris’s stand-in was in Colorado, too. I didn’t come face-to-face with Zendaris. He wouldn’t put himself in jeopardy like that—not even to kill us.”

  Randi shivered and squeezed Gage’s hands tighter. “Do you think my information will help you find him?”

  “Your information is the best we’ve had on this guy yet. Once you started remembering, your level of detail on the house, his associates, his habits—amazing. I always knew you were amazing.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them.

  “Even when you thought I was a stripper and Zendaris’s mistress?”

  J.D.’s brows shot up and he coughed. “You thought she was a stripper?”

  “Sort of an inside joke.”

  “Okay. Count me out of the inside jokes.” J.D. pushed back from the table and circled an arm around Randi’s shoulders. “You are amazing, darlin’. Thanks for helping us out, and I apologize for whatever this guy put you through.”

  “I plan to make up for all of it.” Gage hopped up from his chair and clasped J.D.’s hand.

  “Gage didn’t put me through as much as Dr. Murdoch and Lawrence Jessup at that CIA house of horrors in Panama. Is anything being done about those people?”

  J.D. slipped his jacket off the back of the chair. “The CIA director is launching an investigation, and the Agency is leaving the heavy lifting to us when it comes to Zendaris and those anti-drone plans.”

  Gage snapped his fingers. “I heard Deb has a line on those missing plans.”

  “I heard the same thing, but then she went off on some unexplained leave of absence a few days ago. Her lead probably fell through because if Deb had those plans in her sights, she wouldn’t let up.”

  “Now you need to continue your leave of absence. Go back to your fiancée.”

  J.D. wiggled his eyebrows. “Gladly.”

  When the door slammed behind J.D., Randi dropped her gaze to the table, avoiding the eyes in the sketch, and traced the grain of wood with her fingertip. “You know, I overheard you tell your sister that you had to keep me close to form a bond of loyalty with you so that I’d tell you everything about Zendaris when the time came.”

  “You’re kidding.” Gage smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’m an idiot, Randi. I didn’t mean a word of it. Elle had caught me out in an unprofessional situation, and I was just trying to save face.”

  “I wasn’t sure. I was so dependent on you I didn’t know whether or
not that dependency was the reason for the sparks between us.”

  “You’re not dependent on me now.” He pulled her into his arms and sealed his lips over hers. Then he cupped her face in his hands and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I think those sparks are still there.”

  “They are.” She pressed her thumb to his lower lip. “But I wouldn’t say I’m no longer dependent on you. Now that I have my memory back, I need you more than ever.”

  “And now that you’ve given us everything you know about Zendaris, I find that I still need you more than ever.”

  He kissed her again and she felt the truth of his words on his lips.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the exciting conclusion of Carol Ericson’s Brothers in Arms: Fully Engaged

  miniseries next month.

  Look for CATCH, RELEASE

  wherever Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

  Navy SEAL Security

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Amy Prescott—A San Diego County lifeguard, Amy gets embroiled in a drugs-for-arms deal that brings her past crashing down around her. Can the sexy navy SEAL who comes to her rescue keep her safe, or will falling for him torpedo her well-ordered world?

  Riley Hammond—A former member of the covert ops team Prospero, Riley has a single-minded mission—locate missing Prospero member Jack Coburn. However, when his mission lands him on the beach of a lifeguard with plenty to hide, he’s not sure whether to interrogate her or take her in his arms.

  Carlos Castillo—The ex-boyfriend Amy dumps when she finds out he’s married, but Amy soon discovers Carlos has a lot more to hide than a wife.

  Ethan Prescott—Amy’s half brother is the heir apparent to their father’s criminal enterprise. Although Amy hasn’t seen him in years, he knows all about her and is willing to jeopardize her safety for his own means.

  Eli Prescott—Amy’s father sits in prison a broken man, but do his connections and influence extend beyond the bars of his cell?

  Farouk—Prospero’s former nemesis has expanded his business model and taken his terror worldwide, and this time it’s personal.

  Colonel Scripps—Prospero’s coordinator, the colonel knows he can summon all of the former team members with one call. He just hopes it’s not too late to save Prospero’s leader, Jack Coburn.

  Jack Coburn—The former leader of Prospero and current hostage negotiator has run into a little trouble. Can he depend on his brothers in arms to save him, or is he going to have to save himself?

  To K.F. and L.F., the best Los Angeles County junior lifeguards on the beach.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Jack Coburn could think of about a thousand tastes more pleasant than his own blood—so he spit it out. The behemoth facing him sneered and readied his ham-hock fists for another round of punch-the-stupid-American. Lurch had to be the biggest Afghan Jack had ever seen in his life, and he’d seen plenty.

  Jack hadn’t escaped his captivity from a small, airless tent to be thwarted here. He dug his boots into the dirt outside the cave and tensed his muscles. If he could take care of Lurch and drag his body into the scrubby bushes that clung to the side of the mountain, he could get back to eavesdropping on the conversation in the cave.

  And if he’d correctly heard the name they’d dropped in there just before Lurch materialized, he had to listen in on the rest of that discussion. His life depended on it, as did the lives of his brothers in arms—the whole gang from Prospero.

  Lurch charged forward, and Jack met his assault with a kick to the substantial gut. Lurch staggered back, emitting a guttural cry from his throat. The howl unleashed several pairs of footsteps from the front of the cave, and Jack spun around to meet his adversaries.

  The Afghans gathered in a semicircle around Jack and, as he waited for the gunshots, a muscle ticking wildly in his jaw, he whispered, “Bring it on.”

  The men closed in on him and the stench of their sweat permeated his nostrils. Or was it his own sweat?

  Still, not one of the fierce mujahideen raised a weapon. Licking his lips, Jack took two steps back to the edge of the cliff and glanced over his shoulder at the outcroppings that dotted the long way down to the village where he’d been staying. Would his young friend, Yasir, be looking for him?

  The leader of the group brandished his sword. He growled in the Darwazi dialect, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Jack pretended not to understand the man’s words. He spread his hands and smiled, nodding like a fool and taking another step toward the precipice.

  Even if they believed him to be harmless, they’d never let him live. And once they compared notes with their brethren, the men who’d captured him two days ago, they’d torture him for information.

  If he had to die sooner rather than later, he’d prefer to die swiftly and while in control of his own destiny.

  So he stepped off the ledge and into the dark abyss. Before he hit the vicious rocks below, one thought pierced his brain.

  Sorry I failed you, Lola. Whoever you are.

  Chapter One

  A dark shape bobbed on the water, outlined by a muted orange sunset, and then disappeared. A seal? Amy squinted at the horizon, spotting another object in the fog-shrouded distance. That one had to be a boat.

  She leaned the flag in the corner of the lifeguard tower and grabbed a broom. After sweeping the sand out the door, she dumped the hot water from the bucket onto the beach. They kept the hot water available in the tower to treat stingray stings, but with the kids back in school and the summer crowds gone, they didn’t really need it. She liked to follow the rules in case anyone challenged her. She didn’t need trouble. She’d had enough.

  She lifted the receiver of the red phone and called the main lifeguard station up the coast. Zeke Shepherd picked up on the first ring.

  “This is Amy Prescott in tower twenty-eight. I’m out of here.”

  “Hey, Amy. Catch any excitement on your last day?”

  “Not unless you count an older couple out for a walk with their metal detectors and a couple of joggers. This fog is starting to roll in pretty fast. It drove everyone away about a half hour ago.”

  Zeke snorted. “I hate tower twenty-eight once the summer’s over. No people, no action. Do you want me to pick you up in the truck and give you a ride back to your car?”

  “No, thanks. I’m jogging back.”

  “You’re in such good shape you should’ve kicked that guy’s butt when you found out—”

  Amy cut him off. “See you later, Zeke.”

  Had every lifeguard in San Diego County heard she’d been duped by a married man a couple months ago?

  She slammed the receiver back in its cradle. She might as well have Gullible Sap tattooed on her forehead. For all the precautions she usually took with relationships, Carlos had really played her.

  Reaching up to unlatch the cover of the lookout window to swing it down, she glanced at the ocean. The animal on the water had moved closer to shore and now looked bigger than a seal. Amy snagged the binoculars from the hook and turned them toward the object.

  A breath hitched in her throat. Two scuba divers had broken the surface and seemed to be struggling toward the beach. Had one of them lost air? Embolized?

  Amy shimmied out of her sweat pants, yanked the sweatshirt over her head and dropped them both on top of her open backpack. With her heart racing, she lifted the phone off the hook and left it dangling. Of course, she’d already told Zeke she was leaving, but prot
ocol prevailed. If someone did call the tower, the busy signal would indicate a rescue.

  Grabbing her orange rescue can, she sprinted down the ramp of the lifeguard tower and churned up dry sand on her way to the ocean.

  The divers, still struggling, had moved closer to the shoreline. Amy high-stepped over the waves and plunged into the chilly water, dolphin-kicking her way to the two people.

  One diver had his arm around the other diver’s neck, the man flailing in his grasp. That technique would kill him, not rescue him.

  Amy shouted as she neared the duo, and the stronger diver looked up. The person in his arms slumped and he released him into the water. Adrenaline pumped through Amy’s system as she shot forward and caught the disabled diver before the next wave rolled in, dragging him back out to sea.

  She hooked one arm around his chest while offering the rescue can to the other diver. He shook his head and plowed through the water toward the beach with a strong stroke.

  He seemed to have a lot of strength left; why hadn’t he helped his buddy? He might be disoriented or in shock. She’d call the station as soon as she got this one to shore and revived him.

  Still clutching the unconscious diver, Amy rode the last wave onto the wet sand. The other diver had reached the beach ahead of her and now struggled out of his gear, dropping his tank to the ground.

  Rolling the victim onto his back, Amy called out to the other man. “Are you okay?”

  He ripped his mask from his face and tossed it onto the sand. “Don’t bother. He’s dead.”

  His cold words felt like another splash of ocean water on her face. Then she took in his heaving chest and a jagged rip along the side of his wet suit. He probably needed medical attention for shock.

  She flipped up the mask from the injured man’s face and tipped his head back, placing one hand on his chest. His companion spoke too soon. A feeble heartbeat struggled beneath the diver’s wet suit.

  A warm, sticky substance oozed through her stiff fingers and she gasped. The man’s wet suit sported a huge gash down the front and blood seeped from the tear. What the heck had gone on out there?