Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Not going to shit? Are you serious?” Brandy threw out her arms, encompassing the sea. “Do you notice anything missing?”

  “Missing?” Lily rumpled her brow.

  Brandy sighed. “Were you not paying attention during the orientation?”

  Um. No? She’d been preoccupied, thinking about the children she could save. Imagining living in a hut for three months and glorying in the freedom of not being watched all the time.

  It had been such an alluring thought, she’d left without telling anyone—Jeremy, her mother, her father… Daddy was going to have apoplexy when he got the letter telling him where she’d gone. It had been unfair to send a letter, but if she’d told him in person, he would have stopped her.

  “Lily…”

  “Umm hmm?”

  “The convoy? The convoy we’re supposed to be a part of until we reach Kenya?”

  Lily glanced out at the glassy waters, deep blue and dancing with speckles of sunlight. Beautiful. And yes, empty. A trickle of unease sifted through her. “Where did they go?”

  “Where did we go is the more pertinent question. We must have gotten separated during the storm. Blown off course.” She frowned. “We’re probably lost.”

  “The captain knows how to steer a ship,” Lily said, trying not to so sound too patronizing. Yes. Lily was an optimist and Brandy was a pessimist, but there was a fine line between pessimism and paranoia. “He’ll get us back on course. We can hardly miss Africa. It’s quite large.” This last bit, she whispered in a confidential tone.

  Brandy was not in the mood for Lily’s quirky humor. But then, she rarely was. “I’m not worried about missing Africa. I’m worried about where we are. Alone. In the middle of the Indian Ocean.” She sent Lily a meaningful look.

  It didn’t mean anything. “And?”

  “Oh Jesus God, Lily. Don’t you watch the news?”

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “It’s too depressing.”

  “These waters are notorious for pirate attacks. And here we are. Unprotected.”

  A shiver walked up her spine. Lily forced a laugh, but even to her own ears, it sounded hollow. “Pirates. Really?” She studied the horizon. Nothing. Nothing but ocean and sky as far as the eye could see. There probably were pirates out there, but the sea was vast. The pirates would never find them.

  At least…she hoped.

  Lunch was charming. The buffet had been set out on the deck so the passengers could enjoy the beautiful day. It featured a delicious soufflé along with a fruit salad and some cold chicken. Lily enjoyed it immensely. A great part of her enjoyment was reveling in the cool ocean breeze, the kiss of the warm sun, and the amusing banter of the other members of the team.

  They were an eclectic group, all young people who felt the need to serve. Michael was a Civil Engineer, just out of the University of Washington. Since they’d attended the same school, they had a lot to chat about. Nancy was a nurse, like Brandy, so they talked business, which Lily found a little boring since she didn’t understand most of the terms they used. She had no idea what a tension pneumothorax was, and from the sound of it, she didn’t want to know.

  Pierre, the lone Frenchman, was very handsome…and quite a flirt. He tried flirting with Brandy, but that went nowhere—Brandy never had much patience for flirty men—so he turned his attention to Lily.

  As a result, lunch was charming…until it was interrupted by a flurry on the deck.

  At Captain Garnier’s barked command, a hubbub erupted. Lily stilled, her lemonade halfway to her mouth; she stared at the seamen, scrambling to their stations and pulling out fire hoses.

  Garnier rushed over to their table. “Quickly,” he said in his thick accent—Lily had been trying to place it for days. It seemed so rude to ask where he was from. “You must go below. Now.”

  Brandy bristled with energy. “What is it?”

  “We’ve spotted two crafts. Approaching quickly. It could be nothing, but I must ask you all to vacate the deck.”

  “Is it pirates?” Brandy was like a dog with a bone.

  The soufflé in Lily’s belly heaved as she scanned the calm waters.

  Garnier frowned. “We don’t know. We must follow procedure. Please.” He gestured toward the bridge. “Down below. There’s a hidden cubby in the storage hold. It should be large enough for all of you.” He waved at a crewman. “Enrique will show you where it is.”

  Pierre leaped to his feet. “Nonsense. I shall stay and fight.”

  Michael shot a glance around the table. “I should probably stay and fight too.”

  “Don’t be daft.” The captain snapped. “My men are trained. You are not. Now go. And take some food and water.”

  Lily’s pulse surged. “Food and water?”

  He threaded anxious fingers through his beard. “We don’t know how long this will last. And if they are pirates and they take the ship, you will be glad for it.”

  Everyone did as he said, skittering toward the stairs to the hold. All but Pierre. He thrust out his chest and set his chin, and headed for the railing.

  Lily gaped at him in shock. If the captain said they should hide, they should probably hide. Perhaps it was foolhardy of her to follow Pierre instead of the others, but she felt the needling urge to convince him to go below. To safety.

  “Pierre,” she said as she tugged his sleeve. “We need to go below.”

  He waved her away with the slash of a hand. His gaze was trained on the approaching boats. They seemed to fly toward them, skimming the waves, jouncing and soaring over the water. There were four men in each craft, and they all had rifles, though one man had what looked like a grenade launcher.

  Lily’s heart leaped into her throat. Her breath caught.

  Pirates.

  Dang it. She hated when Brandy was right.

  The sailors scuttled about, preparing their hoses to repel the onslaught. As the tiny boats neared, a cry went up and streams of water blasted from the lower deck. The pirates changed course, zipping around the bow of their ship to keep from being swamped. In response, they fired several shots. The sharp retorts echoed, twined with the cries of the sailors.

  “Down!” Garnier bellowed. “Get down!”

  Several more shots rang out, hitting the hull and the bulwarks with dull, staccato pings. Lily flinched with every one.

  All this happened in a matter of seconds, but it felt like minutes, hours, as though time had slowed down. Her pulse thudded in her ears. Something bitter tickled the back of her throat.

  “Please, Pierre!” she wailed.

  He shot her a frown, but then, grudgingly followed.

  They scampered across the deck to the hatch that led to the lower decks, keeping low—bullets were whizzing by with alarming rapidity. A bullet slammed into the hatch, burying itself in the steel just above their heads, leaving a smoking hole. Pierre eeped and pushed past her. He scampered below, nearly bumping into Brandy as she bounded up the stairs.

  As her gaze landed on Lily, she cried, “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Collecting Pierre. He wanted to watch.”

  Brandy caught her arm and dragged her down the stairs. “Heaven protect us from innocents and devils,” she muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. What the hell were you thinking? Going after Pierre? You need to take care of your own ass. For pity sake, Lily, those were real bullets out there.”

  Lily swallowed, but she didn’t respond. Her throat was too tight.

  “A bullet doesn’t care who your father is. Understand? And when bullets are flying, anyone can get shot. Trust me. I’ve patched up more than one patient who took a stray.”

  “Well, I didn’t get shot.” There had been a close one, but she hadn’t been shot.

  Brandy led her down another set of stairs and another. It seemed to get darker as they descended into the hold.

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “It smells here.”

  Brandy gusted a sigh. “Get used to it,
Lil. We could be here for a while. The pirates don’t just go away. They stay. They follow you. They continue attacking until you outrun them or until help comes.” She pinned Lily with a dark glower. “We’re in real danger here. People die in situations like this. They get taken prisoner. Held as hostages. For years sometimes.”

  Lily’s stomach lurched. “Held-held as hostages?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh dear.

  If she were taken hostage, someone would, in all likelihood, notify her father.

  He was going to be furious.

  As they ducked into the small cubby in the bow of the boat, behind a pallet of crates marked “Iodine,” an explosion rocked the ship. Lily teetered to the side and stepped on someone’s foot. It could have been Michael’s, but it was hard to tell, because they were all entwined. There was barely room for her to fit.

  “Close the door,” Pierre trilled. The panic in his tone was unmistakable. It was probably a good thing he had not stayed above to fight. He wasn’t alone in his terror though; the scent of fear gripped them all.

  Lily arranged herself on the hard wood floor, hunching in so there was more room for the others. The air was already stale with so many people in such a cramped space. And it was warm. She ignored her discomfort and the sounds of the battle, the thrum of the engine, the muted retorts of rifle fire, calming herself with her familiar mantra. What would happen, would happen. It always did. Worrying about it, when one was helpless, was pointless. Best to plan for any contingencies. She drew in a deep calming breath and started running scenarios in her head.

  It would be all right. No doubt Garnier had sent a distress signal and the French fleet—or whoever patrolled these waters—would come and chase the pirates off. All they had to do was hold out until then.

  The engine revved then, and the ship sped up. Yes. They could outrun them.

  But then, an explosion from the stern rocked the boat. Everyone in the cubby gasped at the shudder of the steel. A scream of metal reverberated, a harsh clunk, and then the engine fell silent.

  “Oh, God,” Nancy wailed. Her face was drenched in sweat, her expression wild.

  “It’ll be okay, Nancy.” Lily patted her hand.

  “No. It won’t. Don’t you see? They’ve blown out the propellers. We can’t run.”

  “Someone will save us.”

  Pierre snorted. “It could take days before help comes. Days.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  She could tell the others were annoyed by her pronouncements, but Lily was used to that. Optimism annoyed a lot of people. They glared at her, all but Brandy, who wrapped her arm around Lily’s shoulder and tugged her close. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered. “Dear God, I hope you’re right.”

  They knew when the pirates boarded. The sounds wafted down from the upper decks like eerie wraiths. The yells, the cries, the rapid retort of bullets. Pounding footsteps. Calls in some language Lily did not understand. Laughter.

  Everyone stiffened as the invaders swarmed down to the hold. Lily held her breath as they ripped open crates, pillaged the cargo, and chattered about their booty. At least, that was what Lily assumed, since she couldn’t understand a word.

  She nearly fainted when they left, but only because holding her breath had made her dizzy.

  It got quiet then, except for the occasional shouts and mysterious thuds. Lily closed her eyes and rested, but she was too wound up to sleep.

  Sometime in the night, they came back and began ransacking the hold, searching…for something. Her heart shot into her throat as she heard footsteps nearing their refuge; it swelled when the door to their hiding place rattled. The cubby locked from the inside, but only by a thin bolt.

  A voice rang out. More footsteps echoed.

  Another rattle. Harder this time.

  Nancy made a peep, an anguished whimper. Pierre muffled the sound with his palm. They all sat as still as they could, as quietly as they could, praying the pirates would give up and go away. The tension sizzling around them was a palpable thing.

  And then, with a horrifying groan, the teeth of a crowbar slammed between the door and the frame, and the barrier was wrenched open.

  The weak beam of the flashlight was nearly blinding as the pirate shined it over them. When it flickered away from her eyes, making it possible to see, Lily froze. Her heart leapt into her throat. The barrel of a rifle was pointed right at her head.

  She glanced up at the pirate’s face muted in the shadows. He was a young boy, maybe fifteen, skinny and scarred. His clothes were ratty and hung on his bony frame. His pants were torn and he wore thin flip flops barely large enough for his feet. There was a tinge of triumph on his face as he stared at them, but Lily saw a hint of fear as well.

  “Out. Out,” he barked, waving the gun as he backed away. His compatriots, also young, huddled around him, their guns poised as well.

  “Slowly,” Brandy said under her breath. “And hold up your hands so they know we don’t have weapons.”

  Lily nodded and eased out of the cubby. Her muscles complained. They’d been locked in one position for hours. As she stood and stretched, she sent a wobbly, reassuring smile to her captors.

  They did not smile back.

  But then, she didn’t expect them to.

  They were pirates, after all.

  And she was their captive.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Ryder “Stone” Maddox bent as he passed through the hatch into the war room of the USS Sierra Nevada. He grimaced. The rest of the squadron was already assembled, all but his team. Shit. That meant he owed the other team leaders a round. Rocco and Buzz shot him a smirk.

  His team had been on training maneuvers in the Gulf of Aden when they’d gotten the recall notice and had to be flown in. They’d only just arrived.

  Lieutenant Harper, the Officer in Charge, stood at the front of the room. As he waited to start the briefing, he chatted with an officer in full uniform, who had his back to the crews.

  This mission must be important, if the brass was here.

  Of course, all their missions were important, but Stone could tell from the crackling energy, this one was different.

  He frowned at his men; they winced and double-timed it into the room. Mason, Tate, Garrett, and Luke had their game faces on. Even Zack looked solemn. Only Drake shot him a grin. But then, Drake would.

  The little shit had no concept of decorum. Never had.

  At the request of Admiral Birch, Drake had just been assigned to Stone’s team. Whether Stone liked it or not, he was saddled with him. Not that Drake wasn’t one of the best. He was. But he and Stone had a history.

  Goddamn it.

  Harper glanced up as they took their seats. “Nice of you to join us, gentlemen,” he quipped. The officer at his side turned, and Stone stilled. Something nasty curled in his gut. Fuck a duck. Brandywine himself, the Commander of the entire SEAL team.

  Definitely important.

  Stone shot a glare at his squad warning them silently to be on their best behavior.

  Most of them already knew. Most of them were familiar with Brandywine. He was a legend, after all. Before his promotion into Command, he’d been a SEAL himself. They’d fucking studied him at the Naval Special Warfare Prep School.

  Whatever this was, it was huge for him to be here.

  Harper cleared his throat. “Okay, boys. Shall we begin?”

  A boisterous “Hooah!” rang off the walls.

  Harper flicked on the overhead and a map of the Indian Ocean came up on screen. “The Commander is on a tight schedule and wants to address you personally, but before he does, let’s go over the mission specs. This is a hostage rescue.”

  A groan rumbled through Rocco’s team. No doubt they were hoping for orders to find Bin Laden…and kill him again.

  Harper frowned at them. “Secure that,” he clipped.

  Rocco glowered at his team. “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “A Dutch cruise ship named
The Avonturier, heading for Kenya was boarded by pirates. The crew and passengers were taken prisoner…here.” He whacked the map with his pointer, smack dab in the middle of the ocean off the coast of Somalia.

  Stone shared a look with Mason. His expression said it all. Another pirate attack. Awesome. They’d served on several rescue missions before, which was probably why they were here.

  Buzz raised his hand. “Excuse me, sir. A cruise ship? In the Indian Ocean…off the coast of Somalia?” His tone made his opinion clear. If they were stupid enough to cruise in pirate-infested waters, they got what they deserved.

  “The ship was blown off course during a recent storm. They were heading for Kenya carrying supplies for an Ethiopian relief project and…” His gaze flicked to Brandywine. “A group of aid workers.”

  “Missionaries,” Buzz muttered.

  “According to our intelligence, they are being held here,” another whack, “on an island in the Bajuni Archipelago along the southeast point of Somalia.”

  Stone frowned. Without thought, his hand shot up. Harper had always encouraged them to ask questions during briefings. He usually waited until the end, but this…

  “Maddox?”

  “Sir. They’re being held on an island?” Usually when the clans took ships, they held them offshore and the hostages remained onboard.

  Harper nodded, his features harsh. “Lucky for us, this isn’t a typical pirate crew.” The bite in his tone did not bode well. “Apparently this crew is not affiliated with any of the known clans. The reason they’re not parked off the coast while they work on negotiating ransoms is because these geniuses refused to pay the local militia. After which they were asked, not so politely, to leave.

  “Since they brilliantly blew the props in the attack, they had to travel by sail, which slowed them down. After being refused at each port, they landed on this island in the Archipelago and basically invaded, killing any of the native Bajuunis who resisted.”