TRITON: A Navy SEAL Romance (Heroes Ever After Book 2)

by Alana Albertson

  As swiftly as we could, we climbed into the first available Humvee, the up-armored metal camouflaging our surroundings. Luckily the vehicles were checked daily so finding ready-to-go Humvees was never a problem. Each vehicle contained four SEALs. I sat in the front passenger seat in the foremost vehicle, wanting the first opportunity at destroying our enemy. The vehicles couldn’t have moved any faster—we shot out of the base like bats out of hell, gunning it down the road. Our vehicles sped through the desert on the path the convoy had taken. Roadside bomb, my ass. Sure we had them all the time, but my gut told me this was no random attack. These Americans had been taken for a reason, to be made examples of. Soon enough we’d find out what we were dealing with.

  Pat saw it first. “Fuck, man.”

  Passing another mountainside hill, we approached the convoy, and a few soldiers waved at our incoming vehicles. Strewn on the side of the road, in the midst of a sand storm, were over a dozen bodies. The damage inflicted was ghastly. Soldiers, American men. All brutally shot, each one missing their weapons. No matter how many times we’d gone through this, it never got easier.

  Joaquín, our driver, stopped the Humvee. At the drop of a hat, Vic, Grant, and Shane jumped out first—they were Corpsmen and the best equipped to handle the situation. If there was any chance they could save one soldier, then their assistance would be worth it.

  I turned and gave the surrounding area a once-over, assessing my perimeters. Staring up at the steep mountains, I immediately recognized the path the assailants had used to attack. These bastards had executed their plan to perfection, outnumbering the soldiers. By blowing up the first two vehicles, the fire power raining down from the mountains had taken the rest of the men off guard. It must have taken seconds. And within minutes, they’d driven off with an entire cheerleading squad and one of our fucking vehicles.

  I exited the Humvee. Pat, Mitch, Joaquín, Erik, and I followed shortly behind the Corpsmen, our guns scanning the landscape, looking for targets. Following the briefing instructions we’d had back at the base, each man got to work. Some checked the area and others spoke to the surviving soldiers, getting any intel that would be helpful. The medics provided medical attention and assisted the horrified athletes and their coach.

  Shane stood to my side and checked one of the soldiers’ pulse as Vic and Grant tended to the other nearby men.

  “Dead.” My heart ached.

  “Same here,” Vic announced.

  “Fuck.” I knelt beside one of the men, closed his eyes, and prayed over his body. I wasn’t a chaplain, but being a reverend’s son compelled me to pray for his salvation, despite my faith being constantly tested at war.

  A SEAL pointed to the same tire tracks I’d seen. “The vehicles were definitely ambushed. The perpetrators came down that side of the mountain.” He pivoted, signaling down the road. “And followed that path. There must be a village close by.”

  “For sure this was a targeted attack,” Vic added. “The girls could be anywhere. One hundred bucks says the troop carrier was abandoned somewhere up the road. It’s too risky for them to be seen in it. And if you check the top of those mountains, you’ll see tire tracks going whichever which way. The rest of those motherfuckers hightailed it back into one of the villages or hidden caves.”

  I simply nodded. I didn’t need to speak. He was right. We’d done this enough not to know what happened. I needed to gather my thoughts, and as the squad leader plan of action with my men.

  I glanced around at my squad, every part of me filling with pride. I was in charge of the best SEALs. We respected and believed in each other. If anyone could save these women, we could. And we would.

  I started walking in the direction of the remaining troop carrier, praying along the way. I knew how frightened the girls must’ve been. I prayed to be guided to them, to Sara. And let me honor my word of keeping her safe.

  I approached the troop carrier and first spoke to the coach. The elderly man wore a somber expression. The many creases surrounding his sunken eyes and flat-lined, quivering lips seemed to deepen by the second. He reminded me of my Pops. Though I’d never seen my Pops this scared. Most of the players wore the same expression. As big as they were, understandably, the players were overwhelmed and had plenty of questions. I assured them all their questions would be answered when they were safely back on base. After directing a good portion of the Team to finish attending to the players and provide medical attention to whomever necessary, my men loaded the fallen soldiers. This was one of the hardest parts of the job. The body count was more than we anticipated, and it hurt like hell each time we loaded another fallen soldier.

  Once everyone was loaded and secured, the convoy took off back to the base. We rode in silence. Out of respect for the lives lost, and out of hope that we’d be able to save the other innocent Americans who had been taken by terrorists when their desire had been simply to entertain us.

  I often felt that the public saw us SEALs as killers, as sadistic psychos who enjoyed killing. But seeing war, seeing innocent lives taken filled me with rage. Fuck yeah, I wanted to kill. I wanted to kill the motherfuckers who’d murdered in cold blood these innocent men. The purposely ruthless and unfeeling manner in which their lives had ended was hard to swallow. These were sons, fathers, and husbands who would never come home to their families. The same motherfuckers who took great joy in taking innocent women would pay. Make no mistake, I wanted their blood on my hands.

  I’d promised Sara I would keep her safe. And I intended to keep that promise. Whoever took her took the wrong girl. Because I would tear this country apart to find her.

  This was exactly why I’d left football.

  I’d never win MVP, never win a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.

  12

  Sara

  The minutes agonizingly dragged on as the truck barreled down the road. The more time that passed, the more hopeless everyone became. Little by little, being helpless chipped away at me. We had been living on a knife’s edge since the truck had taken off. The whimpers of my friends could barely be heard over the engine. We’d broken off in pairs, holding the other. Maya and I huddled together, praying. I kept telling her I knew Kyle and his Team would find us, but internally I was losing my nerve. My heartbeat raced, my limbs shook, and my stomach knotted. With each bump on the road, the contents of my last meal swished in my stomach in a bubbling, boiling mess. Our cellphones had lost reception as soon as we’d left the base. Many lost power. I’d asked a teammate the time. Found out they’d been driving an hour. We rode deep into the mountains. Landmarks looked the same, making it difficult to decipher where we were. My mind worked overtime. Long hours of watching too much television contributed in playing havoc with my thoughts. I wrung my hands to prevent them from shaking. Tugged my ears when the ringing prevented me from hearing their path. These terrorists could be taking us anywhere, maybe they planned to rape us, or behead us on live television. Almost worse than the thought of dying was imagining my mother watching her baby girl’s throat be slit by some sadist. The thought sickened me. Scared me to my core. The fear filling my lungs till I gasped for air. My trembling breath mixed with a quiet sob.

  The vehicle slowed to a stop, and terror gathered in my belly. It felt like the rapid descent of a roller coaster crashing into the ground. My chest wall ached with the rattling pace in which my heart pounded. We were at mercy of these insurgents.

  Maya clutched my hand harder, her skin clammy.

  The ignition became silent. Doors opened and shut. Then a man with wiry hair and crazy eyes came into view at the back of the vehicle, an AK-47 with a ton of ammo wrapped around his chest.

  Kyle… Where are you?

  I stared at the grubby man. What were the motives of our captors? Ransom? Exchange? Or perhaps to humiliate and punish immodest American women.

  The crazy-eyed man scanned the back of the truck with his weapon. His erratic movements controlled every shallow breath I released.
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br />   “Mobiles!” he boomed in broken English, waving the weapon like a flag.

  We tossed our phones onto the floor of the vehicle. For a second, I allowed myself to believe that we were just getting robbed. Yes they had murdered the soldiers, but maybe the terrorists just wanted the vehicle and their weapons. It was clear my mind was playing tricks on me, holding onto false hope.

  But my gut told me my ridiculous theory was nothing more than wishful thinking.

  I heard the roar of engines and for a beat hope filled me, returned with a powerful vengeance. Was it our rescuers? Please.

  No. A bunch of swarthy men entered our vehicle, each branding an AK-47. The weapons served their purpose of intimidation.

  Snatched by the back of our necks, we got pushed off the truck. Crazy Eyes chose me to grab. The stench of his grimy hand revolted me. Trying to free myself from his hold, I lost my footing and fell to the ground, taking Maya with me. “Oof.” I winced. Dirt had kicked up when I met the ground. I could taste it.

  “Up!” Crazy Eyes barked. My eyes narrowed, and I wiped my knees and helped Maya to stand. We were marched away from the truck in pairs, the ten of us outnumbered by our captors. No matter how we were dressed, I felt naked.

  I held onto Maya. There was no way in hell I was letting go of her hand. At the moment, she was my lifeline. My mouth was parched from the heat as I focused on three beaten-up trucks, mud splashed on the exterior. The men didn’t waste any time. We were split into two groups of three and one of four, and I felt some solace knowing I had Maya for comfort. We were separated randomly, depending on who we stood by. Denise, our director, was to my left, and became the third hostage in our group being led to the proposed new transportation. At first we kept our heads down and did as we were told. I got the feeling they didn’t want us looking directly at them too much. And I for one didn’t want to cause any uproar. Denise clearly didn’t feel the same. We’d almost made it to the truck when she dug her heels into the ground, refusing to take another step. Making an abrupt stop, I stood at her back and gave her a little nudge, willing her to move. “I refuse to walk to my death. I won’t give them the satisfaction.”

  “Walk!” the bigger of the two terrorists ordered, his hot breath singeing my neck.

  “No,” she uttered rebelliously. My heart sank. Why was she doing this? Now was not the time to be difficult. All hope was not lost. It was small, at times seeming microscopic, but it was there. I believed that. I had to.

  Maya jumped when the men dug their weapons into our backs. We pushed forward but Denise wouldn’t budge. She was strong in her convictions, that I knew. I experienced it every day. But more than that, she was stubborn. Set in her ways.

  “Walk!” they ordered again, this time much louder. The muscles in my legs ached. My body shuttered.

  “Denise, please,” Maya implored, her voice barely above a whisper. She was ignored. I’d never seen her look so scared. Maya was a tough cookie, but this type of vexatious predicament could break even the strongest person.

  In the distance, doors shut. The rumbling of engines ensued. The other trucks took off with our friends. And I wondered if I’d ever see them again or if we’d all be taken to different places. Just then one of the two men grabbed Denise, seizing her head by the roots of her short hair. She let out a pained screech.

  “WALK!” He bared his teeth, letting out a deep grunt from the back of his throat. The rotten choppers were full of decay. I was certain the man had never seen a dentist a day in his life.

  She surprised everyone when she turned and spat at his face. The angry man retaliated by backhanding her, practically foaming, the corners of his mouth retaining the mass of small bubbles like a rabid dog. Her head reared back with the impact and simultaneous gasps left our lips at her bloodied cheek. She looked back at the assailant and was unrecognizable. Rage taking over, a storm brewed in her eyes. Please don’t do something stupid. It was too late. Advancing on him, she was shot, the sequence of hot bullets piercing her chest.

  I drank salty tears as the thug behind me pushed us forward with his weapon. Denise’s sudden death traumatized Maya and I had to haul her beside me, clutching her to my body like a child held a rag doll. I didn’t allow myself to look back. Couldn’t stomach the thought of getting another glimpse at our dead director. My heart hurt too damned much. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. It had to be a bad dream.

  Crammed in the sweaty vehicle, I had the burden of being placed immediately to the right of the driver, the barrel of his weapon an inch from my thigh. We started to drive. I couldn’t help thinking that one more pothole, one more unearthed bomb, and that rifle could go off and blast a hole through my leg or kill any one of us. The more I tried to push the thought out of my head, the more I fixated on it. Was this how we would die? Would we meet our maker like Denise had? Then be abandoned like roadkill. I thought of her body rotting before being discovered and swallowed back a fresh bout of bile.

  The crazy-eyed driver said something in a language I didn’t understand, but I didn’t need to be fluent in his native tongue. His words, the motions of his rifle translated into any language.

  The hours passed down the sandy road, the four of us confined in the same stench-filled space, and we were transferred to other vehicles at least three other times. Same routine, same driver, another mud-stained vehicle, the identical pinch of the AK-47 across his lap, its barrel at my side. Maya stayed silent, as did I. Affliction accompanied our every move. Tried to keep myself sane with thoughts of my family, desperately tethering myself to happy memories.

  As the day dragged into night, my sense of self and grip on reality began to loosen. Nothing I had accomplished in my life mattered to these kidnappers. I was no longer a woman, someone’s daughter. I was nothing more than a possession to be used for these men to get what they wanted.

  The only problem was I didn’t have a clue what that was.

  13

  Kyle

  “We’ve got every man on this, Lieutenant Commander Lawson. Drones are being sent out now, and we have Osprey helicopters surveying the terrain. We will find them.”

  I nodded while clutching the phone but my gut doubted the words of my Rear Admiral. He was the best the military had. Admiral Stevens had orchestrated some of the best rescues in military history. I was honored to serve with him.

  In reality, we didn’t know who took the women, why they took them, and where they were. No group had taken responsibility for the kidnappings, yet. I had my theories—the usual suspects—religious fundamentalists, radicals, terrorists. But I never wasted my time on conjecture; my decisions were made on facts, not guesses. My actions could mean life or death to these women—the gravity of the predicament and responsibility weighed heavily on my soul.

  “Thank you, sir. I’d like to be on the ground and have my Team be the first ones embedded when we discover their location.”

  “Roger that. I’ll update you when I hear anything new.”

  My first decision had been to return with my Team to base to formulate a plan, gather intelligence, and call in air support. There was absolutely no time to be spent on a wild goose chase. This wasn’t Hollywood—I wasn’t miraculously going to find her by the side of the road.

  Since the abduction, thousands of military personnel, both Stateside and in-country were working on this. For now, I could do little more than be prepared and wait.

  I grinded my teeth. The word burned. Wait. Safe on base, with a television, a computer, food, and my military family.

  I paced around the room. Every second that clicked on the clock grated at my nerves. Anger and worry consumed me.

  Pat placed his hand on my shoulder. “I get it. It’s personal. This is exactly how I felt when I’d left Annie in the brothel. But I found her. We’re going to find Sara.”

  I shook his hand off. I didn’t need his comfort—I needed to take action.

  Ten more agonizing minutes passed. Finally, the phone rang.

 
“Lawson, a terrorist group has taken responsibility for the kidnappings. The girls’ faces are plastered all over the media.”

  I clicked on the computer—pictures of the squad, numbered as if for execution. Their director was noticeably missing. Running a hand down my face, I studied Sara’s face intently, her beautiful blue eyes, her angelic smile. Rubbed across my chest. This fucking hurt. I would never forgive myself if I couldn’t save her.

  I’d always believed I was put on this earth for a purpose—save lives to make up for the ones taken.

  Sara was my duty, my mission. I would rescue her or die trying.

  14

  Sara

  I’d completely lost track of time, as the never-ending landscape of desert mountains rolled past the window throughout the day. Now the sky was dark. I tuned out most sounds except for Maya’s. Her sobs had stopped. She grew quiet as the truck seemed to slow down.

  I clutched the armrest as Crazy Eyes stopped the vehicle. Where were we? I quickly glanced around, hoping to see some type of nearby shelter, or at least the other vehicles behind us.

  But there was nothing.

  We were alone.

  The dark of night, the dust of the desert, imposing mountains and trails, and the smell of diesel were the only elements surrounding us. I felt small in comparison. It was the feeling of being swallowed whole. I wanted to close my eyes and be back home. End this nightmare.

  Crazy Eyes chuckled when my breath caught as the barrel of the AK-47 belonging to his accomplice pressed into my left shoulder from the backseat. “Walk.”

  It took me a moment to understand the word walk even though it was spoken in English. Walk? Walk where?