Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  She blew her nose into the tissue and tossed it into the toilet. After flushing, she slid back the lock and took two steps toward the sink. The woman in the other stall hadn’t made a peep yet. Who knows? Maybe she was suppressing her nausea, too. The federal pen could make anyone ill.

  The stall door banged open and Amy jumped. Her gaze darted to the reflection in the mirror—the reflection of a knife blade glinting in the fluorescent light.

  Her blood turned to ice water in her veins as the face behind the knife came into focus. A stranger, a man who wanted to kill her.

  “W-what do you want? I don’t have the money. I don’t know what Carlos did with the money.”

  The man wiped his brow with his other hand, and his eye twitched. “You’re coming with me.”

  A pounding dread beat against her temples. If they believed she knew something, what would they do to her to get answers? She clutched her purse against her side. How would he manage to abduct her in the midst of the crowd, even if he did poke that knife in her side? If she made a run for it, would he stab her in front of all those people?

  Riley would never allow him to just walk away with her. But if he had her at knifepoint, would Riley make a move?

  “I have nothing to give you. No money, no information.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder at the door and ran the tip of his tongue along his lips. “Who is the man who travels with you and protects you? CIA?”

  She swallowed. Maybe she did have information to give them. The image of Ethan’s slashed throat and blood-soaked pillow flashed in front of her eyes. What information had he given them? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough, and she knew a lot less than Ethan.

  He gestured with his knife. “Let’s get moving.”

  “You don’t really believe you can march me off the grounds of a federal prison during a press conference with a knife in my side, do you?”

  “I have to do what I have to do.” A bead of sweat rolled down his face and hung off the edge of his jaw.

  He didn’t like this any better than she did.

  She shuffled back a few steps, but he lunged at her, grabbing the back of her neck with his free hand.

  He pressed the blade against her side and growled. “Walk next to me. If you make a move or cry out, I’m going to slide this blade right into your flesh.”

  Her teeth chattered and goose bumps raced across her skin. Her hip glanced off the door as he pushed it open and looked both ways down the hallway.

  Instead of turning left toward the murmuring crowd, the man veered to the right, his fist pressed against the small of her back and the blade pinching her side.

  Her breath came out in short gasps. He had no intention of walking her through the crowd and possibly past Riley. There must be a back door to this place, and the guards didn’t have to be as alert since the main gates to the prison remained locked.

  A woman’s voice called down the hallway to them. “Is this the way to the ladies’ room?”

  Amy craned her head over her shoulder and felt the blade poke her skin through her blouse. “Yes, that’s it, on the right. We’re leaving now. Enjoy the event.”

  “Shut up.” The man drove his balled-up hand into her back.

  Amy’s too-familiar response didn’t make the woman stop or ask if they knew each other. When they reached the end of the hallway, her captor pushed her toward an exit door at the bottom of a short staircase.

  She had to make some kind of move. She coiled her muscles and jumped over the three steps, crashing into the metal door. She shoved against the bar on the door and tripped outside. But her assailant tackled her to the ground and held the knife to her throat.

  “Don’t be foolish again. I don’t have orders to kill you, but I can cause you severe pain.”

  She swallowed against the blade and nodded as he dragged her to her feet. The exit door had deposited them at the side of the building with the open-air parking lot stretching to their left.

  Amy cast a wild glance around for Riley or some prison guards, but spotted only a few reporters smoking cigarettes at the corner of the building. They weren’t even looking her way.

  The man hustled her toward the parking lot, gaining confidence with each step away from the prison. They weaved through the parked cars, the knife a constant reminder of the threat that faced her.

  She wouldn’t get in the car with him. She’d fight him off with every ounce of strength she had. He’d already confessed that he didn’t have permission to kill her.

  But he could do a lot worse with that wicked silver blade.

  He reached into his pocket and clicked his remote. The lights of a nondescript gray sedan flashed from its parking space at the end of a row.

  He yanked open the driver’s door and pushed her ahead of him, the knife at her back. “Crawl over to the passenger seat. And don’t think about exiting that way. It’s impossible.”

  She looked across the interior of the car, zeroing in on the stripped panel of the passenger door. No door handle, no way to open the door.

  Tensing her muscles, she gulped. She’d have to make her move now. He’d cut her now, or he’d cut her later, after she gave them unsatisfactory answers to their questions. Might as well make his life as miserable as possible.

  She settled one knee on the car seat, bracing her other leg on the ground, ready to kick back. A scrambling noise behind them caused them both to freeze, and then her attacker grunted and tumbled to the side.

  Amy twisted around, landing on the driver’s seat, her legs splayed before her. Both fear and relief spiraled through her body as she saw Riley bend over the man and punch him in the gut.

  The man groped for his knife, which he’d dropped at Riley’s initial onslaught.

  She screamed, “Look out. He has a knife.”

  Riley dropped onto the man’s body, pinning his wrist with his knee. “Run, Amy. Get out of here.”

  She had no intention of leaving Riley in this parking lot with a madman. Turning toward the steering wheel, she laid on the horn with both hands.

  The stranger, knife in hand, swiped across Riley’s midsection, ripping his shirt. With his other hand, he grabbed Amy’s ankle and yanked her from the car. She gripped the steering wheel, hanging on, her palms sweaty.

  Riley scrambled to his hands and knees, and the stranger kicked him in the throat. As Riley grunted and tumbled to the side, Amy’s attacker launched forward, landing on top of her and waving his knife in her face.

  Riley swayed to his feet. “I’m not going to let you take her.”

  With Amy crushed beneath his weight, the man brought the knife to her throat. Riley cursed and froze. He wouldn’t make a move if he feared the man would cut her.

  Amy took a deep breath and twisted her head away from the knife, ducking beneath the steering column. He yanked her hair and nicked her shoulder with the knife as he tried to pull her head back onto the seat.

  Blood dripped onto the console. Amy gasped, but she worked an arm free and cinched the man’s wrist, digging her nails into his flesh until he hissed in pain.

  Riley threw open the passenger door and hooked one arm around her, dragging her from the car as he elbowed her attacker in the temple. With his knife still clutched in his hand, the man lunged toward them.

  Amy jerked her head up at the sound of boots on the pavement. Two guards from the prison shouted as they jogged toward them.

  Their assailant shoved them the rest of the way out of the car and gunned the engine. The car lurched forward, the passenger door slamming shut from the force of the forward motion. Exhaust filled Amy’s nostrils as Riley yanked her out of the way of the tires grappling for purchase on the asphalt. He covered her body and rolled to the side.

  The car squealed out of the parking lot and flew over the speed bumps, and Amy looked up to see it careen onto the road leading off the prison grounds.

  With hands hovering over their weapons, the guards approached Amy and Riley. Amy slumped against R
iley, panting against his chest. Riley hugged her close, murmuring in her ear. Her blood soaked through his shirt, and he must’ve felt the moisture because he glanced down and sucked in a breath.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m all right. It’s not deep.”

  He was already ripping off his shirt when the guards arrived, looming above them. “What the hell happened here?”

  Riley staunched the bleeding of her arm with his shirt, and then squinted up at the prison guards. “It’s a long story.”

  * * *

  “DO YOU THINK ANYONE believed that terrorists infiltrated the press corps at the prison and tried to kidnap me?”

  Riley lifted a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter one way or the other. It’s not as if a bunch of federal prison guards are going to track down terrorist operatives.”

  “At least they didn’t arrest us for fighting in the parking lot.”

  She carried a glass of water to the couch and sank against the cushions. Riley had explained to her about the suspicious reporter and his badge, and how he had rushed to the ladies’ room to find her. That woman in the hallway had saved Amy and didn’t even know it. When Riley had stopped her coming out of the bathroom, she’d pointed down the corridor and told him about the chatty woman and the surly man.

  Smacking his fist into his palm, Riley said, “I should’ve stopped at my car first and retrieved my weapon.”

  “If you had done that, it might’ve been too late.”

  “Maybe. I just didn’t want the guy to see me in the parking lot. I crouched down between the cars the whole time I was tracking you. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of you for a second.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Riley was turning into her guardian angel, and did she ever need one. “How’s your shoulder?” He swept his beer from the counter and twisted off the cap.

  “It’s fine.” Amy picked at the snowy-white bandage peeping from the collar of her shirt. “They’ve moved on to the next step, haven’t they? That man tried to kidnap me today. They’re going to find out what I know, whether I know it or not.”

  Riley sauntered into the living room and slumped on the couch next to her, holding up his bottle. “Sure you don’t want one? If ever someone needed a drink, it’s you.”

  “I need my wits about me.” Her knee bounced, and she hunched forward on her elbows to stop it.

  “Those aren’t wits. Those are nerves.” He ran his hand between her shoulder blades. “Besides, you don’t need wits anymore. You’re getting out of town, remember?”

  “You don’t have to persuade me.” She shivered, and Riley massaged her neck.

  The attempted kidnapping today had convinced her to leave. Maybe fate dictated that she pull up her roots every ten years or so and move on. Her future didn’t include hearth and home or stable and serene. She shot Riley a sideways glance.

  And it didn’t look like her future would include him, either.

  “Good, because I’m just about done persuading you.” He sipped his beer. “My next plan included throwing you over my shoulder.”

  Closing her eyes, Amy leaned against him, soaking up his strength. She wouldn’t mind that at all. If she could trust this man with her life, she could trust him with her heart.

  He slipped an arm around her. “Does Colorado sound good? There’s no snow there—yet.”

  She dropped her head on his shoulder, allowing her hair to fan across her face. “Cabo sounds better, and there’s no snow there—ever.”

  His body stiffened, and she held her breath. Had she gone too far? After today’s rescue, she’d decided to tell him exactly how she felt. She’d weathered many calamities in her life. She could handle a broken heart.

  “Cabo?”

  “That’s where you live, isn’t it?” She flattened her hand against his belly. “Unless you’ve been lying to me all this time. Do you really own a dive boat in Mexico?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “But what?” Her confidence and resolve evaporated. She pushed away from him and jumped up from the couch. “This is just a job? It’s in your nature to protect a damsel in distress? You only slept with me to make me feel better?”

  She clenched her teeth, curling her hands into fists, bracing for the rejection, feeling foolish that she’d set herself up.

  “But I’m not done with this job yet.”

  Amy blinked. “What does that mean?”

  “I was called out of retirement to find my friend, Jack Coburn. The trail started with the Velasquez Drug Cartel and its deal with a terrorist cell from Afghanistan. I have to find out how they plan to use that money. It might lead to Jack and it might not, but right now it’s all we have. When the job is done, when Jack is safe, then I can think about the future.”

  Looking down, her hair creating a veil around her face, Amy asked, “What’s in your future, Riley?”

  The couch squeaked as he rose. His body heat warmed her skin as he stood inches away from her. His scent of fresh soap and a hint of the sea—always a hint of the sea—flooded her senses.

  He cupped his hand at the ends of her hair, her dark strands pooling in his palm. Then he scooped her hair away from her face into a ponytail behind her, tugging on it so her head tilted back, her face exposed to his scrutiny.

  “Don’t you know what’s in my future, Amy?”

  A gleam of blue shone from under his half-lidded eyes and his lips quirked at one side. She trailed her fingers along the reddish-gold stubble of his chin and whispered, “Me?”

  He kissed her fingertips. He kissed the bandage on her shoulder. He kissed her mouth.

  “It took you only one guess. I thought I’d have a tougher time convincing you of my intentions than getting you to leave San Diego.”

  “What exactly are your intentions?” She tugged on his earlobe and tucked his long hair behind his ear.

  He rolled his eyes. “You still have doubts?”

  “I’ll always have doubts, Riley. Is that going to drive you crazy?”

  He nuzzled her neck. “You already drive me crazy.”

  “I’m serious.” She cradled his head with her arms. “Will my insecurities wear you down?”

  “You’re not going to have any insecurities with me. I’m not going anywhere, Amy. I won’t abandon you.”

  She murmured against his hair, soft and damp from his shower. “What if I abandon you?”

  “I’ll come after you. It’ll give me a good excuse to throw you over my shoulder.” He kissed her hands and pulled her back toward the couch. “You do have to abandon me for a while, though. Let’s get Ian’s ex-wife, Meg, on the phone and see if she can take you in.”

  After two unsuccessful calls to Meg’s house and her work, Riley tapped his phone against his palm. “Rocky Mountain Adventures, the place where Meg works, told me Meg’s on vacation.”

  Amy’s pulse ticked faster. Once she’d decided to leave town, she couldn’t wait to get out, even if that meant leaving Riley behind. He’d come for her when this ended, when he found his friend.

  “That’s okay. I can find someplace to stay. I still have a lot of money at my disposal.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want you staying alone. I can send you to my sister and her husband in Hawaii. You’d get along great with them. They own a surf shop and spend most of the day surfing and hanging out at the beach.”

  “Do you come from a laid-back family? Surf shops in Hawaii. Dive boats in Cabo. What prompted you to enlist in the navy?”

  “My dad was not laid-back—anything but. He was an admiral in the navy and ran our household like a tight ship. My sister, Leah, rebelled against all of that. I followed in Dad’s footsteps, and then decided my sister had the right idea.”

  “Except when it comes to rescuing friends.”

  “Except that.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  “My mother remarried after my father died. She lives in Florida. My dad died of a heart attack at sixty-tw
o. That’s what being a type A personality gets you.”

  She folded her legs beneath her. Riley had two sides pulling at him. Maybe that’s why they’d hit it off so quickly. They’d each recognized a kindred spirit. “A type A personality also allows you to control your destiny. I don’t think you would’ve been satisfied kicking back in Cabo all your life. Your father wouldn’t have been, either.”

  “You’re right.” He tugged her hair. “When the call came from Colonel Scripps about Jack, I jumped at the chance. I told myself I was responding to a friend in need, but I was also responding to my own need—my need for excitement, thrills and chills.”

  “I think it’s also your need to feel useful, Riley, to have a hand in carving fate. Even your marriage to April was a challenge.”

  His nostrils flared briefly. Have I gone too far? She treaded on hallowed ground whenever she mentioned his marriage.

  He blew out a breath and slid open his cell phone. “Sister in Hawaii? Does that work for you?”

  “Will it work for her?”

  “I told you she takes things in stride. She won’t even raise an eyebrow.”

  After a conversation during which Riley seemed to do all the talking with very little explaining, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table. “Done. We’ll put you on a flight tomorrow, and you can give Leah a call when you get there.”

  “You didn’t tell her much.”

  “She knows not to ask too many questions.” He clicked his beer on the table. “Are you ready to turn in?”

  She set her water glass on the table next to his half-empty bottle. “It’s our last night together. How...? When...?”

  “We’ll be together again when my job is done.” He pinched her chin, and she closed her eyes.

  She’d be safe in Hawaii, and he’d still be chasing terrorists and drug dealers, facing danger every day. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, and she’d have to stand by that. She’d have to respect his commitment to finding his friend.

  After all, that’s what she loved about him. Why she loved him.

  She covered his hand with hers. She’d never been in love before—never had the courage—and now, she didn’t have the courage to tell him. Not even knowing she had to leave him.