Honor Among SEALs

by Dixie Lee Brown

  The moron only grunted.

  “It’d be less trouble for you and a whole lot easier on me if you untied these ropes.”

  Martin studied her through narrowed eyes and actually appeared to consider the suggestion.

  Kellie turned slowly, looking at the tall timber with its backdrop of dense, green vegetation. When she faced Martin again, she shrugged. “What good would it do me to run?”

  That seemed to make sense to him and stroke his ego at the same time. He pulled a knife from his belt and turned her away from him. The serrated blade slid through her bindings, and her hands fell apart. With immense relief, she massaged life back into her wrists.

  Martin snaked his arm around her, pulling her against his body, and palmed her breast with his large hand. Kellie tensed, drawing her elbow forward to plunge into his muscled gut. He squeezed, and she cried out. The knife appeared at the fringe of her vision as he set it menacingly at her throat.

  “Actually, sweetheart, I wish you would run. It’d give me an excuse.” He whispered the threat in her ear, and the hair stood up on her arms.

  Kellie remained perfectly still and quiet, allowing him to paw and grope her body, while she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat and tried not to hurl. Seemingly disappointed she didn’t fight him, he growled and shoved her away. She bit back harsh words that would serve no purpose and walked out in the same direction they’d been traveling. Her hands were free, though it had cost her pride. Now all she needed was a gun.

  A muscular man, at least six foot four and over two hundred pounds, Martin was no doubt strong, but clearly his expertise didn’t include walking straight up the side of a mountain. As the slope steepened and the going became tougher, his exertion took a toll on him. Every few minutes, he ordered her to stop and get on her knees while he dropped onto a stump or rock outcropping to catch his breath.

  Kellie watched him with interest. She’d have no problem outdistancing him, but he still carried the rifle tucked against his side, and she couldn’t outrun a bullet. They’d bypassed her family’s cabin and, for whatever reason, appeared to be heading for the house where she and MacGyver had stayed together. She thrust the memory from her mind. She couldn’t afford to be distracted from her purpose.

  According to Martin’s side of his phone call, Tony must be waiting in the house for her arrival, and she wasn’t too excited about giving him what he wanted. So, she kept an eye on Martin from beneath lowered lashes, pretending that she, too, was having trouble with the climb and needed the rest. Sooner or later, he’d let down his guard and turn his back…and she’d be ready.

  In the silence of the forest, broken only by Martin’s harsh grunts, she strained to listen for the sound of a helicopter. Nothing but the wind in the boughs over her head reached her ears.

  “Fuck this!”

  Kellie jumped as the expletive exploded from Martin. He hoisted himself off the ground, using the butt of the rifle for leverage, and stomped toward her. She rose and started walking again, but he grasped her arm and swung her to face him.

  His eyes were dark with anger. “That bastard, Palazzi, wants me to walk you up this damn hill while he relaxes on his ass in that grand house at the top. What do I get out of it? Nothing!”

  Quicker than she thought possible, he captured her wrists. Her hopes of freedom quickly disappeared when he trussed them together with the end of the rope he’d attached to his belt loop. “The hell with him. I’m going to take what I want.” He drew his knife again, brandishing it in front of her. “And you, sweetheart, you’re not going to make a sound, are you?”

  Kellie shook her head as despair drained her courage. The last thing she’d expected was for him to double-cross Tony. That couldn’t be very healthy. Nor did it seem prudent to protest her bound wrists while the knife flashed in her face.

  He took off through the forest, circling the hill instead of climbing straight up the side, dragging her behind him. It was all she could do to keep her feet underneath her as he covered the ground with purposeful strides. Every few feet, he stopped to inspect a low-hanging branch before moving on.

  Finally, he halted beneath the canopy of a large pine tree, its bottom-most limbs almost touching the ground. He examined the growth above their heads, then took out his knife and trimmed one of the smaller limbs that jutted from a large branch. “Yeah, this will do.”

  With a vicious jerk, he yanked her to a spot beneath the trimmed branch. Lifting her arms over her head, he stretched her until the rope binding her wrists slipped over the three-inch stub he’d created. When he let her drop, her toes barely reached the ground.

  Her shoulders screamed with the pain of the sudden weight, and she tried her best to bear some of it on her feet, but it was impossible for any length of time. Confused and really afraid for the first time since she’d been captured, she focused on his gloating face. “What are you doing? I’ve done everything you said. What more do you want from me?”

  He stepped toward her and pressed the knife’s edge to her throat. “Did I say you could talk?”

  A flick of his fingers sent a searing pain through the sensitive skin of her throat. She gasped to keep from crying out. Something warm ran down her neck. The bastard had cut her.

  “That’s just a little reminder…in case you were thinking of screaming your head off. Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s just a scratch. You’ll live…for a while anyway.” He laughed as he shoved his knife in its sheath and strode by her until she could no longer see him.

  Soon, she couldn’t hear him either, but where he’d gone was the least of her worries. The position she was in was suffocating her. She had to push herself up on her toes in order to force air into her lungs, but as soon as her legs gave out from the strain, she had to start over again. Before long, her vision blurred, and she lost track of time. How long had she been hanging there? Was Martin coming back or had he left her there to die? Surely it would be easier just to stop fighting.

  No! Never! One more time she stretched up and inhaled what oxygen she could. Again, her shoulders took the brunt of her weight as her wobbly legs gave out. Her arms and wrists throbbed with excruciating pain. The haze that dulled her mind thickened, but an indistinct sound made it through the cloud that was slowly separating her from the agony, and she latched onto the disruption. Footsteps crunched across dry pine needles behind her. Martin stepped in front of her, a malicious grin twisting his mouth into a sneer.

  “Miss me, sweetheart?”

  Kellie closed her eyes to shut out his gloating countenance.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I had to get some things straight with Palazzi. He’s not going to get you until I’m done with you. Whether you’re alive at that point—that’s up to you.”

  Any hope she might have had was gone, along with her strength. What little remained would be wasted replying to his self-adulation. Her silence seemed to please Martin. He laughed as he flipped his knife in the air, swiveled his torso and embedded the ten-inch blade in the dirt a few feet behind him.

  He coiled his fingers around her neck and crushed his mouth down on hers. Unable to stop her cry of surprise and revulsion, her lips parted enough for his foul tongue to slip through. He swallowed her protests as he plunged to the back of her throat.

  Kellie gagged and bit down hard.

  Martin roared and stumbled back, wiping at the blood that seeped from one corner of his mouth. “You bitch! You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that before I’m through with you.”

  “Go to hell!” No need to hold her tongue or hide her contempt any longer. She was going to die anyway. His rage-filled eyes reflected his murderous intent.

  Martin closed on her again, pressing into her personal space. He fisted his hands in the front of her shirt. With a jerk, buttons separated from fabric and flew everywhere. Intent on her bare flesh, he licked his lips as he spread the tattered edges
of her garment, then reached for the waistband of her jeans, jerking the button free, and ripped the zipper open.

  No! No way in hell! The will to fight kindled within her. It would be impossible to overpower him, but she could make him angry enough to kill her rather than let him rape her. With strength born of desperation, Kellie dropped all of her weight onto her arms, pulled her knees to her chest and kicked with everything she had. She struck him in the chest, knocking the breath from him in a rush and sending him stumbling backward several feet until he sprawled on his back.

  The momentum swung her the other way. The branch bowed just enough so the balls of her feet touched. Vaulting off of them, she leaped upward, wrapping one hand around the branch, and worked the rope over the stub of limb that restrained her. Free at last, she dropped to the ground. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her, but she didn’t dare stop. Every second counted as Martin scrambled toward the knife he’d stuck in the ground.

  She was closer. She could get to the weapon first. For an endless moment, she wavered in indecision. If she could retrieve the knife, maybe she could end this. But with hands tied and her strength severely diminished, he could easily overpower her. She had no doubt he would rape and kill her. Her flesh would be eaten by wild animals, her bones scattered, and Pop would never know what happened to her. It was retreat or die.

  Kellie whirled and ran, her hands still bound in front of her.

  Behind her, Martin swore viciously. The sound of heavy footsteps and the rustling of quick movement spurred her on. She blocked out the noise, concentrating only on what was in front of her, and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Surveying the house on the hill above him, where he was sure Palazzi waited, MacGyver heard the commotion long before getting close enough to see the source. A tall man, his voice raised in anger, stomped toward MacGyver, swearing into his cell phone and gesturing animatedly with his free arm. Clearly, he was not happy. The AK-47 strapped across his back, plus the butts of two semi-auto handguns visible overtop his belt, told MacGyver he wasn’t simply a tourist out for a hike. That, coupled with the vehement dialogue he was having with someone about “the woman causing trouble” meant MacGyver had stumbled into the right man at the right time.

  As he turned, MacGyver instantly recognized the hard features and muscular build. It was the second time in less than a week he’d stumbled onto this gangbanger. Dressed in black leather chaps and a vest with a Devil’s Doom rocker emblazoned across the back, he was all too familiar. He’d been at Wally’s Tavern a few days ago and had bullied Kellie into one hell of a hangover. It was either a really small world, or Palazzi had left nothing to chance on the day of his wedding.

  As the man ended his call and moved north through the trees, MacGyver plotted a parallel course and kept him in sight. After three minutes of walking, the man looked around and then disappeared beneath the low-hanging branches of a large pine. On silent feet, MacGyver crept closer until he reached a spot where he could see the man, facing away from him, through the boughs.

  The murmur of voices reached him seconds before the man let out a thunderous growl. “You bitch!” That could only mean one thing. MacGyver, giving up all pretext of stealth, darted halfway to the tree before he heard Kellie’s tormented cry.

  “Go to hell!”

  An instant later, the biker stumbled backward through the canopy of boughs and crashed onto his back ten feet from MacGyver. One glance toward Kellie confirmed she was very much alive, though trussed and hanging on a tree branch. Her shirt had been ripped open and blood stained her bra, but she was moving—struggling to free herself. His full attention returned to the man in front of him as single-mindedness settled over MacGyver like a calming breeze.

  The man, apparently unaware MacGyver was anywhere around, snarled and clawed his way to his hands and knees. He crawled steadily toward the hilt of a knife embedded in the ground a few feet from Kellie. Unwilling to pull a gun and make noise that might draw unwanted attention, MacGyver stalked his prey. Attacking his Kellie would be the last mistake the prick ever made.

  As the coward stretched to curl his fingers around the butt of the blade, MacGyver pushed forward through the drooping limbs of the pine, slammed his booted foot down on the man’s hand and claimed the knife for himself. With the echo of Kellie’s cry still etched in MacGyver’s mind, he had to restrain himself from grinding the fingers that had touched her into the ground.

  “What the fuck?” The man’s furious gaze snapped to MacGyver’s, anger slowly turning to recognition, disbelief and alarm.

  “Good. You remember me. You should have left well enough alone.” Resisting the storm raging through him, MacGyver stepped back and let him go. Flipping the knife in the air, he caught it by the blade.

  The man scrambled away and managed to get his feet under him. He stumbled, fell and continued to claw on hands and knees over the pine needles that cushioned the ground. Apparently, realizing MacGyver wasn’t following, he stopped and lurched to his feet, turning back with a wary glare. He started to go for one of the handguns that jutted from his belt, but MacGyver cocked a brow, and the man wisely reconsidered.

  A dark sneer distorted his features. “What the hell do you want?”

  MacGyver returned his stare. Bloodlust hit him so hard, his vision blurred, and he strove to regain the calm determination that always blanketed him during a mission. Kellie was okay and that was really all that mattered. Better than okay, she’d knocked her attacker on his ass when he’d clearly thought her helpless. Damn, MacGyver was proud of her.

  A smile pulled at his lips in spite of the turmoil within. It faded as he contemplated Kellie’s assailant. “You know what I want. Where’s Palazzi? You’ve got about five seconds to tell me something I’ll believe before I kill you.”

  The man’s arrogant grin surfaced, but he clearly wasn’t as confident as he’d been facing a bound woman. He scanned from one side to the other and up the steep slope of the hill, probably hoping to see reinforcements coming to his rescue. The glance and subsequent search of the house at the top was enough to confirm MacGyver’s theory. Palazzi waited a few hundred feet above them for this poor-excuse to deliver Kellie into his hands.

  MacGyver smirked. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He tested the weight of the knife in his hand.

  The coward started to sweat. Clearly, he was only brave when assaulting women. Kellie had, no doubt, corrected his thinking about the weaker sex. Would he learn from the lesson?

  As though in answer to MacGyver’s question, the man smirked. “Okay—yeah, Palazzi is in the house on the hill, but, by the time you get there, he’ll be long gone. See—I changed the game plan. Told Palazzi I’d deliver the woman to him when I was finished with her. We came to an understanding, and he’ll be clearing out of here as we speak, if he wants her back alive.”

  MacGyver tensed, striding a few steps to his right as he studied the man. “You won’t be making that delivery, so I’ll need to know where it was supposed to go down.” Apparently, he wasn’t as shrewd as MacGyver had given him credit for, if he believed he could screw over Palazzi and live to tell the story.

  “Is that so?” In the blink of an eye, the man reached for his weapon.

  MacGyver swung sideways and hurled the knife across the twenty-five feet that separated them. It slammed into the man’s chest with a quiet thud. Shock registered in his eyes before he toppled to the ground.

  Obviously, some people never learned. MacGyver eyed the crumpled form, waiting for any remnant of guilt or remorse to jab him in the solar plexus. Instead, gratitude flooded him. In the name of freedom, Uncle Sam had trained him to protect—his country, his brothers in arms and his loved ones, using any methods necessary. He’d worn his trident and uniform proudly and had no regrets. Today was no different.

  MacGyver turned away, noting for the first time Kellie had been successful in her bid
for freedom. He searched the brush and trees for any sign of her. Nothing caught his eye. No furtive movement. No sounds other than the wind through the treetops. Had she passed out? Shit! She’d been there only seconds ago, disappearing in the time it took him to make the world a little safer. Maybe she hadn’t seen him in the stress of the moment. Otherwise, why would she run? Possibly the victim of traumatic abuse, including blood loss, how was she in any shape to run?

  Damn it! MacGyver fumbled for his phone and pounded the button beside Travis’s number. “I found Kellie.” He blurted the words that should have soothed his soul.

  “Is she okay?” Of course, Travis would recognize the strain in his voice and know something was off.

  MacGyver refused to give in to his worst fears. Kellie had fought off her assailant long enough to get away. Whether the blood that discolored her clothing was hers or not, he hadn’t been able to verify, but her body language and glazed eyes—as though her strength reserves ran on empty—should have been a clue.

  That she’d run from him was the most troubling. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember an instant of recognition or even be sure she’d looked at him. “She may be hurt or in shock—confused at the very least. She took off while I was busy, and I didn’t see which way she went.”

  “Ground’s still wet. You shouldn’t have any trouble tracking her. Send me your location. I’ll ditch the car and come toward you. Maybe I’ll run across her on the way.” Travis’s concern was tangible.

  Obviously, MacGyver wasn’t the only one who’d gotten attached to the runaway bride. He stopped short of owning the depth of his feelings for her, mostly because it scared the shit out of him. But he had to find her, and she had to be all right.