Kidnapped by the SEAL: HERO Force book seven

by Amy Gamet

  He ran to the other room just in time to see the door bust open as if it had been propelled with great force, two men in black with ski masks entering the space. Noah fired twice into both men and they each went down but quickly got back on their feet.

  They were wearing body armor.

  Holy fuck.

  He had the ammo to deal with it, Kevlar-piercing rounds that could go right through bulletproof plates, but they weren’t his default ammo and sure as shit were not in his gun.

  Only head shots would save him now.

  He thought of Hannah and Brady in the next room. He had a hell of a lot worth saving, and he thanked his lucky stars he was a sniper. Two more bullets had the two tangos down, this time permanently. Blood and brain matter were splattered in dark splotches on the wall around the doorway, but men kept coming and Noah kept firing.

  The men fired, too, and Noah knew he might be hit. Adrenaline was a funny thing, blocking out all sorts of wounds at the time of impact. Time was his saving grace. His attackers had just as much time to kill him as he had to kill them, and Noah was faster.

  He was counting bullets, a habit that had kept him alive more than once. The magazine held fifteen rounds. He’d reloaded after his run-in with the cop on the side of the road, another habit that had served him well. So far, he’d put thirteen into these black-clad intruders.

  Fourteen.

  One shot left.

  Three more men came at him.

  How many of these guys were there?

  He fired at the first, killing him instantly, then Noah lifted his leg in a roundhouse kick that caught the second man off guard before he could fire his weapon. The third held his gun trained on Noah’s head. “Freeze, motherfucker.”

  Noah put his arms in the air, one of the men coming around behind him and securing his wrists with zip ties.

  The one with the gun come closer. “Where are they?”

  “Who?”

  The man behind him punched him in the kidney. “Dr. Fielding and her kid. They weren’t at their place, so we figured they’re here.”

  “No.”

  The one with the gun snickered. “You check the bedrooms. Mr. Ryker and I will wait here.”

  Noah hoped they’d hidden, hoped against hope they could avoid being found, but he worked to keep his concern from showing. He narrowed his eyes. “You sure know a lot of stuff.”

  “Like your name? You gave that to the police officer you killed when you handed him your license.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “We went looking for him when he didn’t show up as expected.”

  “And this condo,” said Noah. “How did you find me?”

  “How many Rykers do you think there are on this island? The first one that came to mind was Lizzie. Some coincidence, I was just here a few weeks ago. Standing just like this.”

  Every color in the room seemed to converge to a single point in the middle of the man’s ski mask. “You killed her,” Noah said.

  The man laughed. Noah forced himself to notice details. Eyes so brown they were nearly black. The man’s frame and build. His hands and skin tone. His height. His shoes. He was considerably taller than the other man, nearly as tall as he. This was his sister’s killer, standing not more than five feet away, and if Noah got away, he sure as fuck needed to know who to go after.

  “I did. That was messy, though I see you took out the carpeting.” He cocked his head at the condo walls. “Not this messy, but still. I imagine it was difficult.”

  The other man’s voice came from behind Noah, and he twisted around to see him. “I can’t find the kid, but I got the doctor.” Sure enough, he held Hannah’s elbow, her wrists clearly bound behind her back, as well.

  “Where’s the boy?” asked the man with the gun.

  “With my in-laws. They evacuated for the hurricane.”

  “All right, then. Let’s get a move on.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To the roof. I figured you should die the way you killed my brother.”

  That piece of information clicked into place, tying everything together in Noah’s mind. “Manning was your brother, and you killed Lizzie? He was in love with her.”

  “That’s why he pussied out. Somebody had to do it. Now let’s go.”

  22

  It was hot in the stairwell, the smell of rot and water ubiquitous in the air around them. Noah trudged up the stairs, his mind strategizing his escape. He had several options, but Hannah complicated every one, so he took his time, deliberately making the men slow down so he could think.

  Lizzie’s condo was on the second floor of a six-floor building, and they were nearing the top. He met Hannah’s eyes just as the group rounded the final landing before the roof access. She was scared, he could see that. But if he wasn’t mistaken, she also looked pissed off, and he found himself admiring her spirit in the face of intense stress.

  It was possible they were both going to die, being marched up these stairs like the damned to the gallows.

  Not if I have anything to say about it.

  The lead man reached the door, a heavy metal lock hanging from a chain securing it closed. He cursed and stamped his foot.

  “Shoot it, dumb ass,” said the other man.

  The first did as he was told, the blast echoing off the concrete walls of the stairwell like an explosion. The door opened to the orange rays of the sunrise streaming over the horizon.

  But there was something else—the faint thump-thump-thump of helicopter rotors in the distance. Noah glanced at the men, wondering if they recognized it or if it would need to get closer before they realized there was a chopper nearby. It was probably a news crew or a disaster relief effort of some kind, but Noah added signaling them to the top of his list of options.

  They just needed to stay alive long enough to do it.

  “Sit down, Hannah,” Noah said.

  She turned to look at him and dropped to the ground. So did Noah.

  “Get the fuck up,” said the taller of the two men.

  “Why can’t we just shoot them here?” asked the other.

  “No. I want them to feel the fear Eric felt, to know what it’s like to see that muddy water rushing up to meet you, the concrete right beneath. They will suffer for what they did.”

  The sound of the chopper was closer now, and the men noticed. “What the fuck is that?” asked the shorter one.

  “Probably just the goddamn Weather Channel,” said the other.

  The rays of sun hit the side of the chopper and Noah saw the dark green color for the first time. His eyes shot to Hannah’s, then back at the chopper. That was no weather station. It wasn’t first responders, either. That chopper was military, and it was heading right for them.

  Hope lit in his breast that it might be HERO Force, though he didn’t know how they could have found him. But there were two armed tangos on the roof and it was high time Noah gave them a run for their money.

  He got up on one knee. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he growled, coming to a stand. He bent at the waist, lifting his zip-tied hands high over the back of his head, then slammed the loop made by his arms and conjoined hands over his buttocks. The zip ties snapped, and in one continuous movement he grabbed a knife from his tactical pants and straightened, elbow bent. He whipped the knife at the shorter man, the gun falling from the tango’s hand as he was struck just above his heart.

  The taller man pulled his gun, training it on Noah. “You son of a bitch,” he said. “What are you, some kind of killing machine?”

  The chopper had finally gotten close enough now to rouse the tango’s alarm, and he turned around to see it, raising his gun at it.

  The red HERO Force logo was clearly visible on the side.

  Noah swiftly moved behind him and twisted his neck, breaking it with a practiced yank, the crack of bones loud enough to be heard over the chopper. He let go and the man fell to the ground.

  He moved ba
ck to Hannah, cutting through her zip ties with a second knife from his pants.

  “How many knives do you have in there?”

  “This is my last one.” He pulled her to a stand. “We have to get out of the way so they can land.”

  “Land?”

  They moved to the stairwell entrance and the chopper descended, landing in the middle of the roof like a leaf falling to the ground. Noah yelled to be heard over the noise. “HERO Force.”

  “The men you work for?”

  He nodded. The sound of the rotors slowly died down. “Stay low,” he said, moving toward the helicopter. Her hand on his arm stopped him.

  “I have to get Brady.”

  “I’ll go with you. Hang on.” He jogged to Cowboy and Booger, coming out of the cabin. “How the fuck did you know I was here?”

  “Little interview you did with your wife on TV.” Cowboy pointed to Hannah with her chin. “Who is she?”

  “Hannah Fielding. A doctor. She saved my life. Come on, I’ll introduce you, then we need to go find my son. He’s still downstairs.”

  “Your son?” asked Booger.

  “Not mine, hers. That’s what I said.”

  He didn’t see the look the men exchanged behind his back as he moved back to Hannah, anxious to get downstairs.

  23

  Hannah sat near Noah in the helicopter, Brady tucked between them. The boy had been inconsolable after she pulled him from behind the dryer, where she’d hidden him just seconds before the man in black came bounding through the door.

  He’d heard the gunshots and feared she was dead, and that reality crushed her heart. She wouldn’t be able to take that memory from him. She could only pray it would become less pronounced with time.

  Like the memory of his dad dying on the carpet?

  She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. Thank God he’d stayed put and hadn’t seen the blood that covered the living room. She’d shielded his eyes with her hands on their way past.

  There was nothing she could do to make any of this better except hold her son tightly and kiss his sweet head, telling him it would all be okay. He seemed to be sleeping now, and she was grateful for that.

  The helicopter pitched and Brady squeezed her hand more tightly. Not sleeping, then. He’d taken hold of her hand in one of his and Noah’s in the other when they’d gotten on board, the moment too tender for her to object or even apologize to Noah for Brady’s behavior. There was simply the little boy she loved, clinging to the people who were pivotal in his safety.

  She couldn’t even allow herself to consider what could have happened if things hadn’t gone their way. Losing Joe had been difficult, but losing Brady was unimaginable.

  Her eyes wandered around the cabin. The chopper was enormous inside, far bigger than she would have thought from looking at it, but she wasn’t much for flying and sincerely hoped they’d make it to Atlanta soon.

  And where exactly do you think you’re going to stay?

  She hated relying on the kindness of strangers, but that was what she’d have to do. She hoped Noah would take them in for the night, but she knew they were likely to need shelter far longer than he might want to provide it.

  Atlanta was only four hours’ drive from Hilton Head, and the hotels were likely to be full of evacuees. But it didn’t matter now—she’d stay anywhere if she had to—they were alive and everything else would sort itself out somehow.

  She snuck a glance at Noah, his stubbled face now inching closer to an actual beard. Was he happy their time together was coming to an end, or was he reluctant for them to part, like she was?

  Don’t be clingy.

  It was sex, that’s all. Not even a date or anything that might imply even a temporary commitment. They’d been caught up in the storm and the situation and had done something they would never have done under ordinary circumstances.

  Bullshit, Hannah. You would have slept with that man any time.

  But would she have? Was he really that attractive, that interesting to her, or was it just the stress and heat of the moment that had captivated her? She and Joe had dated for years before getting married, but she’d known he was the one for her an hour after meeting him.

  She didn’t trust her ability to tell right now.

  In that moment she wanted so desperately to go home, back to her apartment and the safety she imagined she’d find there, but it was an illusion. Her haven was gone, the building flooded and the windows shattered. God only knows what had happened to it since she left it. She felt untethered, as if without that apartment she had no idea where to go or how to provide for her family.

  Her son.

  It was just the two of them, and she’d do well to remember that.

  24

  Noah sat at the HERO Force conference table, his hands at his sides, dangling toward the floor. There wasn’t a single part of his soul that remained untouched over the last forty-eight hours, from his love for his family and the safety of a child to lust and feelings for a woman he had no right to be feeling right now.

  He leaned his head back and stared at the recessed light over his head, the intense beam overwhelming his retina. Lizzie was still gone, but he now knew who’d killed her, had snuffed out the life of that man as surely as that man had done to her.

  I’m not done.

  I need to find Joe’s killer.

  Even as the helicopter had taken them back to Atlanta, he knew he would need to return. His vengeance would not be complete without giving Hannah the same vindication he was experiencing now, not to mention her safety.

  The men in black had known her address, had been to her condo before coming to his. They knew where she lived. And while those men were dead and gone, Noah knew there was someone higher up who had ordered her death, just as they had ordered his own. Hannah didn’t know the men had been to her place and he wasn’t about to tell her.

  Cowboy walked into the room and sat down heavily at the head. “Drink?”

  “I’ll take a water.”

  Cowboy opened a small fridge and put a bottle in front of him. “You doing okay?”

  “Nope.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  Noah looked down at the bandages, barely able to see blood seeping through the gauze over the blue afterglow of the light bulb. “Fine.”

  “Two bullets in two days. I think that’s a record. Where’s my fucking boat?”

  “In the chopper.”

  “Where’s Hannah?”

  “In my office. Brady fell asleep and she wanted to be there in case he woke up. Kid’s going to have nightmares for months.”

  Cowboy leaned back in his chair. “If not years.”

  Noah sighed heavily. “I’m going back to the island.”

  “What for?”

  “The people who killed her husband. When they came after us, they went looking at her place, first. I’ll turn myself in to the cops as soon as I get back. I promise.”

  “That’s right. I’m harboring a fugitive.”

  “I’ll be gone in an hour.”

  “Hannah said she couldn’t wait to get home. Does she know the tangos were looking for her?”

  “No.” Noah gulped down half the water in one long pull. “And you’re not going to tell her.”

  Cowboy narrowed his eyes. “Who is she to you? On TV they called her your wife.”

  “The reporter just assumed and we didn’t correct him. I was too busy begging her to come with me even though I’d kidnapped her and Brady at gunpoint.” He explained the details of what had happened.

  “Do you care about her?”

  “Fuck.” He laughed without humor. “Ask me what you want to know, Leo.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “It’s only been a couple of days.”

  “I’ve seen it happen faster than that.”

  Noah thought of Brady and the tough road the boy had ahead of him. He thought of Hannah,
starting from scratch after the waters receded, needing to get her family back to some semblance of normal. But try as he might, he couldn’t picture himself in that scene, teetering noncommittally on the edge of their existence as Brady got more and more attached. He stared into space.

  Don’t forget. You’re going to prison.

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t love her.”

  Cowboy said nothing, Noah’s words seeming to echo in the space like a judge’s final ruling. It was his decision to make and for all their sakes he had to make it a good one. He wasn’t what they needed right now, no matter how much he wanted to be there.

  “They’re going to need someplace to stay,” said Cowboy.

  “Hawk offered them his house. He’s going to Paris on the red-eye tonight.” He stood. “I know what I’m doing, Cowboy.”

  “I’m sure you think you do.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “I saw the way that kid looks at you. He worships you, man.”

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “And her. Hannah.” Cowboy stood and crossed his arms. “She looks at you like that, too. You and she are like mirror images of each other, staring all googly-eyed like you’re on a damn Hallmark card.”

  “Like you said, we’ve been through a lot.”

  “And if it’s more than that?”

  “What’s your fucking problem, huh? You playing cupid while I go to jail? You think that’s what she wants? To get hooked up with somebody who’s going to make her life even harder than it already is?”

  “No.”

  “Because that’s the shit I’m dealing with here. It doesn’t matter if I care about her. It doesn’t matter if I don’t. All that matters is that I get the fuck out of here as soon as goddamn possible and Hannah and her kid stay here.”

  Movement in the open doorway of the conference room made him turn his head. There stood Hannah. She lifted her chin, her green eyes full of pain as she stared him down.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned to Cowboy. “We’re ready to go to Trevor’s whenever you can take us. Brady’s just using the washroom.”