Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mason (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The 13)

by Anne L. Parks

  “Obviously,” her mother snided.

  The statement sent a burst of rage through Jess. “Don’t worry, Mason will find us.”

  “And who is Mason?”

  He’s everything…

  “He’s a Navy SEAL on the team,” Jess said. “He’s been protecting me. He won’t stop until he finds me—finds us.”

  Her mother’s eyebrow quirked up, her features softened, and a smile spread across her face. “You love him.”

  “Yes, I do,” Jess said without hesitation. “With all my heart.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “He told me he did.” Of course, he had been talking in his sleep at the time. But that counts, right?

  “I’m happy for you,” she said. “I hope you are able to have a long blissful life together. Provided we get out of this mess.”

  So close…the woman was a master of nearly making Jess feel loved before snatching it away. “I told you, Mason will find us. He’ll save us.”

  The door at the top of the steps creaked open. Jess grabbed her mother’s hand and squeezed. No matter how they felt about each other, or the amount of contention between them—at that moment they were all each other had. Jess may not understand her mother, but she damned well didn’t want to her to die.

  Please find us, Mason.

  * * *

  Yurik walked through the spacious cabin owned by his cousin, William Hutton, and pulled the gloves from his hands. The thought of his imbecile cousin sitting in jail awaiting trial for funding terrorism sent white hot rage through his already tense body. Within a few months, the RRA had come from the shadows not as a roaring lion but as a whimpering mouse.

  First, it was the discovery of the use of Hutton’s charitable organization as a front for laundering money to fund the organization, which led to the destruction of a training facility in Colombia, and the death of Yurik’s uncle, Grigory Petrov.

  Then, during the takeover of the US Embassy in Jordan, Yurik’s nephew, Andrew, was shot and killed by a female CIA analyst. The takeover had ultimately been a failure after Yurik’s nephew failed to secure the Ambassador as a hostage. A small group of American special ops had thwarted the RRA’s mission and Alrick had been taken into custody.

  The worst, by far, was the murder of his son by that little cunt, Jess Baylor.

  “Where is she?” Yurick asked through a clenched jaw. The plan had not gone exactly as planned, and two more members of the RRA were now in US custody. At least he had procured Jess Baylor. And now, he was going to deal with the woman who had murdered his son.

  And she was going to regret ever pulling the trigger.

  “Downstairs with the other woman,” Alexei said, and escorted him to the basement door.

  “Is everything set up?” Yurik asked.

  Alexei nodded. “Yes, just as you instructed.” He was a good soldier for the cause, and Yurik could imagine the young man would be an asset to them in the future. He was much like Yurik—driven. Ruthless, bordering on cruel.

  Everything he should be to ensure the organization was successful.

  Yurik followed Alexei and the other man, Tomas, down the stairs. In the back corner, the two women huddled together. Yurik’s gaze landed on the younger of the two. His blood boiled like lava right before a volcanic eruption. The woman who had stolen his son. His legacy.

  Why should she live when his son was dead?

  Oh, the things he had planned for her. She would beg for death before he was through with her.

  Chapter 20

  Abbott found an empty summer home two miles from Hutton’s cabin. The owner agreed to allow them use of the place as a safe house and command center. Dex, Mick, Noah, and Colt set up a triage area, in case there were any injuries. Every time Mason overheard them discuss various scenarios they may encounter, he visualized Jess beaten. Shot.

  Or worse.

  What if they were already too late, and Jess was dead? He hadn’t told her how he really felt. She was the first woman who had grabbed his heart and owned it—and she had no idea he had completely fallen head over heels in love with her. Why hadn’t he told her how he felt before this op started?

  Because this whole thing petrified him. Ultimately, what he feared most was that she may not share his feelings. So, he had decided not to let her know how he felt, because he didn’t want to face rejection.

  Fucking coward.

  He glanced at the large kitchen island. The medic team had cleaned it off and lined the opposite counter with various medical instruments, towels, and other things. All he could envision was Jess’s body, blood seeping out of bullet holes, dripping into puddles on the expensive tiled floor. Her eyes vacant, looking straight at him, but not seeing him. The light gone. Never having the chance to tell her that she had changed his life forever. To thank her for allowing him to love her, even if it was for such a short time.

  No. He couldn’t think that way. He shook his head of the visions, and just imagined her. In his bed. Alive. Calling his name as he brought her to a climax. In the kitchen, smile across her face—did she realize she smiled constantly while she cooked?

  He had to see her that way. He couldn’t go into the mission worrying they were going to be too late. That caused anxiety. Anxiety forced men to forget the plan and make bad decisions. Bad decisions would be what killed Jess. Not the RRA.

  He closed his eyes and ran through the plan over and over in his mind. Most every part of the training had become muscle memory. Entering a building. Where to go. When to shoot. It was the variables—the things that were exclusive to each op that had to be committed to memory.

  Riley set up a forward staging area in the great room, and hooked up her laptop to the massive TV hanging above the fireplace. Smaller screens from other rooms in the house were filled with information, as well. They were connected to the TOC back in Newport, and Riley would be able to monitor everything Holt was able to see. This was not the optimal planning scenario. Usually they wanted weeks—days even—but they were forced to come up with a plan in a few hours. It was starting to get dark, and time was not on their side.

  The team preferred to go in under the cover of darkness. During a raid of the RRA training compound in Colombia they had been forced to go in during daylight hours. The mission had been a success—they had rescued Mia Rowland, killed a top RRA leader, and blown up the compound—but it was by pure luck they had gotten out almost unscathed. Mia had injuries from being kicked in the ribs by steel-toed boots, and Ben Wells had been shot in the leg.

  No deaths, though—and that was what really made it a success.

  Mason stared at the map of the property. One road in. Two level cabin. Just over five thousand square feet plus a basement. Mason would bet good money that was where Jess and her mother were being held.

  If they were still…

  He closed his eyes, and banished the thought from his mind.

  Enter through the woods at the back. Send probes to determine manpower, firepower, any obstacles they might encounter. Locate all points of entry into the house.

  Each member had a job. A position. Mason was on the team that would head straight to the basement. Riley and Lance had tried to talk him out of doing it, most likely worried how he would react if they were too late.

  He was firm, however, and convinced them it was better for him to be the first to find her. No matter what he found when he got there.

  “Hanscom has two helo’s at our disposal,” Riley said. Mason opened his eyes. The couches and chairs in the room were filled with the other members of the team. All eyes were on Riley as she stood in front of the large TV screen. “The property we are on butts up against the Hutton property here—in the back corner. No fence, so no obstacle there.” She used a laser pointer to show where the property came to a point along the north end. “The land plat shows the only structure on the property is the house. There are several points of entry into the house at ground level. The covered drive has a door that leads into a vesti
bule. The back side of the house has a covered deck with French doors leading to the interior from each of the three bedrooms—here, here, and here—” she pointed to three doors along the southwest side. “Two sets of French doors flank the fireplace and lead into a great room. And a final set off a breakfast nook on the southeast end of the structure.”

  Jake, the Captain in charge of planning and training, stepped up next to Riley and took the laser pointer she offered. “The back of both properties—this one and Hutton’s land—are dense forest. That should aid our ingress and provide ample cover. So far, we have not seen any activity in the woods, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any.”

  “We’ll make our way through the woods,” Lance said. “Break up into teams—Lucas and Jake take the northwest side of the house; Gabe and Ben, you’ll be a the back; and Noah and Dex, check the northeast side. Scope the area and report back. The rest of us will hang back in the woods until we get a signal to come forward.”

  “While this is a rescue mission, it’s also a kill/capture. None of these guys can be free this time tomorrow. Whether that means they are still breathing or not will be determinative on how things go down. But, this much is clear, gentlemen, no one gets away. Once Jess and her mother are recovered, and the tangos secured, we’ll go through the house and intel gather.”

  “Any questions?” Riley asked.

  Heads shook back and forth.

  Lance grabbed his M-4 from the table beside him. “Let’s move out.”

  Chapter 21

  Mason crouched behind a tree at the back of Hutton’s property. The probe team advanced on the house. Now the rest waited for confirmation of whether or not the intel was good. Once they had all the information, they could move in.

  Rescue Jess. Kill the terrorists.

  There was no other plan, as far as he was concerned.

  “We have movement,” Ben said over comms. “Two tangos inside the house.”

  “Any sign of the friendlies?” Lance asked. They stayed clear of using the term hostages during an op. Sometimes words could be mistaken over comms. Hostage may come out hostile and put men into action. Usually someone ended up injured or dead, and no one wanted to be responsible for killing a hostage.

  “Negative. Whereabouts of friendlies are unknown.”

  Mason glanced over at Lance. He knew there was a basement, and had a strong feeling Jess and her mother were being held there. But doubt filtered through his mind. Under any other circumstances the lack of hostages sitting in the great room in full view of the windows wouldn’t have been questioned. But they were in the middle of BFE, where the closest neighbor was over two miles away without a line of sight into the house.

  What if they were wrong? What if Jess and her mother weren’t here?

  The answer sent a chill through Mason. He locked down any thoughts of her being killed in some other part of the world, while he sat, safe, in upper Maine.

  “Be advised we have a barn on the northwest corner of the house, approximately two hundred feet from the west entrance. Maybe thirty by thirty. One point of entry on the south side.”

  “Fuck,” Mason said. “How did we miss that?”

  “It’s under the trees,” Lucas piped in. “Satellite imaging wouldn’t have picked it up. And they may not have filed the proper permits to build it.”

  “Six,” Lance said, using Lucas’s code name for the mission. “Can either you or Seven see inside the structure?”

  “Negative, Three—” Jake said. “Hold the phone, we have a new tango exiting the house and carrying something large into the barn. Something big…can’t quite make it out.”

  Mason’s heart thrashed in his chest. His breathing hitched. Was it Jess? Was she already dead and they were disposing of the body?

  “Tango A and B are still in the house,” Ben said. “I didn’t see where our barn Tango came from inside the house.”

  Two minutes later, groans came from Jake and Lucas. “Tango C in the barn set up a light,” Jake said.

  “Fucking bright light,” Lucas added. The men were wearing NVG’s—night vision googles—which picked up scant bits of light and amplified it. Bright lights would blind the men.

  “Tango C is leaving the barn and reentering the house.”

  “Can you get inside the barn?” Riley chimed in over comms.

  “Not at this time, Lilypad. Tango C is returning with what appears to be another light,” Jake said.

  Ben broke in over comms. “Be advised, Tango C came from the basement.”

  “Tango C is leaving barn and closing the door. He has reentered the house.”

  “We have eyes on Tangos A and B and a friendly leaving the house via the south sliding door from the great room,” Gabe whispered. “Friendly has her hands bound and is not dressed for the cold weather.”

  “Two, you and Four fall back to the woods and keep eyes on them,” Riley instructed. “Do we have an ID on the friendly?”

  “Older female,” Gabe said.

  Mason wasn’t sure how he felt. On the one hand, Jess’s mother was still alive—for the time being—but was being led to her death. But it wasn’t Jess.

  Was she still alive?

  Guilt swamped him. Sweat rolled down his back between his shoulder blades. If Jess was already dead, was it wrong that he felt some relief in not having witnessed her death like he might be witnessing her mother’s?

  “Tangos A and B and Friendly A are on a direct course to your position, Three,” Ben said.

  “Copy, Two. Stay back. We don’t need to tip them off to our presence and send word back to the house.”

  Mason, Lance, Mick, and Colt fanned out. They walked through the forest without a sound. Ghosts under the cover of darkness.

  “Gents, Apollo and I have done a quick recon on the barn. He signaled explosives inside the premises. I can confirm C4 and charges in the southeast corner of the structure,” Sean said.

  “Enough to bring down the building?” Jake asked.

  “Affirmative,” Sean replied. “And probably the house, as well.”

  “Good to know,” Lucas said.

  “Tangos have halted,” Ben said. “Tango A is talking, but not sure what he’s saying—shit!”

  A shot cracked through the air not far from Mason. The sound reverberated through the trees.

  “Go, go, go,” Lance said into comms. The group moved swiftly toward the area of the gunshot. Lance was in the lead position. He stopped behind a tree, his arm straight out behind him with his hand up. Mason, Mick, and Colt halted.

  Mason peered cautiously into a small clearing. A man Mason didn’t recognize watched the events in front of him. He pointed the barrel of his rifle at the ground. “What are you waiting for? Finish the job.”

  A woman writhed in pain on the ground.

  “Oh, no, I’m not going to kill her. No, I will let nature take care of Mrs. Baylor.” A man stood over her. He leaned closer to the woman. “I shot you in the shoulder on purpose. You will bleed out slowly. Your scent will attract the wildlife. Pray you die before they find you. Being ripped apart by a bear or wolf will be a slow and painful death. I will hear your screams, though. I will hear your screams, and it will make me very happy knowing you will soon be with your murdering cunt of a daughter. She’s also going to die slowly, painfully. Think of that while the life drains from your body.”

  Mason wanted to charge the man. Rip him limb from limb. Beat him to a bloody pulp. But he couldn’t chance taking the two terrorists out now. As far as the team knew, there were only three tangos. If these two didn’t return, the remaining tango would kill Jess before looking for his comrades.

  The only thing that gave Mason any comfort was the knowledge that Jess was still alive. So was her mother. If they played this the right way, both women might survive.

  The Russians left. Ben informed the team when they passed he and Gabe and made their way back to the house.

  Mason darted from his cover and dropped to the ground next to th
e woman. Blood seeped from her shoulder. The snow under her was bright red.

  “Are you Alicia Baylor?” Mason asked, slicing the zip-tie from around her wrists and carefully rolling her onto her back.

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice rough.

  “Is Jess Baylor inside the house?”

  She nodded. “In the basement.”

  Mason took a deep breath and steadied his emotions. “Is she…is she alive?”

  “When they took me away, she was.” She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Are you Mason?”

  He stilled. How the hell does she know my name? “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She said you would come. She said you would save us.” Her fingers curled around his upper arms and she tried to pull him closer to her. “You have to save Jess,” she whispered.

  A large lump lodged in Mason’s throat. “I will,” he choked out. “I promise.”

  The comms crackled.

  “We have eyes on all three Tangos,” Jake said. “They’re heading into the barn with the other friendly in tow.”

  Jess.

  Mick and Colt were busy attending to Jess’s mother. “We need to get her back to the forward,” Mick said to Lance.

  Lance nodded. “You and Colt take care of her.” He looked at Mason. “You ready?”

  Mason nodded. Rage fueled him. Relief swam through his veins. He had one more chance to save Jess.

  To save them both. And start a future.

  * * *

  A man shoved Jess into the barn. She stumbled and fell to the ground. Dirt choked her. Her hands were still secured behind her back. Yanked her up by her arm, she was forced to kneel. Jess slid her gaze around.

  Lights were secured to the tops of poles. The sheer brightness of them burned into her eyes. In between the stands, she could barely discern a video camera on a tripod.

  “Do you know who I am, Ms. Baylor?” the man asked. He had a thick Russian accent.

  “No.”

  “My name is Yurik Stepanov. You knew my son, rather briefly, before you killed him.”

  Jess’s blood ran cold, and fear swept over her. “It was self-defense.”