SEAL to the Rescue

by Paige Tyler

  She followed him through the crowded diner, not missing the fact that Holden had conveniently forgotten to answer her question. A part of her was glad. That way, she could keep lying to herself and believe he was innocent and that this was all some kind of horrible mistake.

  Holden led the way outside and along the sidewalk. It wasn’t very crowded at the moment and they had the walkway mostly to themselves as they headed back to his Jeep, Kendall matching her gait to his, letting her hip brush against his muscular thigh.

  Why the hell did being with him feel so right?

  And why did everything have to be so complicated?

  Kendall was so lost in those thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the roar of a car engine revving nearby, immediately followed by the squawk of spinning tires. She jerked her head up just in time to see a black sedan sliding across several lanes of traffic, right toward her and Holden. Then she saw the man in the back seat and the automatic weapon bucking in his hands, the flash from the muzzle bright enough to see even in the sun.

  The windows of the shops behind her and Holden exploded into a million pieces and a strong arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her to the ground. Holden tried to keep her under him, attempting to put his body between her and the incoming rounds. But she fought him, every instinct she had screaming at her to protect him instead.

  The result was an awkward impact with the concrete, her head slamming down so hard she couldn’t even hear the shooting anymore. Then everything faded to black.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE MOMENT KENDALL opened her eyes, she wished she hadn’t. The bright fluorescent lights right over her head nearly blinded her, making her jerk to the side in a lame attempt to escape the torture. That only made her head throb more than it already did. She instinctively squeezed her eyes closed and reached a hand up to check her head, if for no other reason than to make sure it was still there, as well as shoo off the angry pixie with the jackhammer who was going hog wild on her noodle.

  “She’s awake,” a soft voice said.

  Strong hands grabbed hers before she could get to that pesky chick with the jackhammer. A shadow hovered over her and she opened her eyes again to see Holden leaning over her, blocking the fluorescent glare and regarding her with a serious case of the worries.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  His voice was so soft she could barely hear him over the hubbub of voices around them. Somewhere in the background, she heard someone say something about getting the doctor. That must mean she was in a hospital. Part of her wanted to look around and see whether she was in an ER or an actual room, as well as check to see who else was there. But then she decided she’d rather spend her time gazing into Holden’s beautiful eyes. He was obviously concerned she was seriously injured, which made Kendall feel really good for some crazy reason.

  “Like a thousand-pound gorilla just finished tap dancing on my head,” she said in answer to his question. “What the heck happened?”

  He frowned. “What do you remember?”

  She thought a moment. “I remember a dark sedan sliding coming straight toward us, then someone in the back seat shooting at us. I think I hit my head on the ground when you pulled me down. I did hit my head, right? I wasn’t…?”

  “You didn’t get shot,” he said, reading her mind. “You hit your head on the sidewalk. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough for the doctor to be concerned you might have a concussion.”

  She breathed a little sigh of relief. “I’m not sure about the concussion thing, but I definitely have a throbbing headache.”

  “You smacked your head on the pavement,” a man’s voice said. “You didn’t think it would feel good, did you?”

  Kendall looked over to see a middle-aged man in a white lab coat with a well-trimmed beard and a draped stethoscope around his neck. Without a word, he came over to the bed and shone a bright penlight in her eyes. That really helped her headache. Not.

  As she did her best to avoid the light, she took the opportunity to look around the room, stunned when she saw Kimber, Dalton, Kyla, and Wes standing along the back wall of the tiny space regarding her with as much worry as Holden had. They were all here for her?

  After the doctor finished torturing her with the light, he checked her heartbeat and pulse, then ran his fingers under her hair, seeming to take great pleasure poking the bump on the back of her head.

  “Everything looks good,” he finally said, stepping back to nod at her. “But you have a mild concussion, so I want you to remain here for the night so we can keep an eye on you.”

  Kendall opened her mouth to protest, but the man was already heading for the door, saying he’d start the paperwork to get her a room. Holden leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. The gesture was so tender she wanted to cry.

  “You guys have to know how lucky you are, right?” Dalton asked, crowding around the bed with everyone else. “You could have been killed.”

  “I heard a cop out by the desk saying it was probably a random drive-by,” Wes said, looking at Holden. “Do you think that’s what it was?”

  The muscle in Holden’s jaw flexed. “I saw the shooter and it wasn’t Isaac, if that’s what you’re asking. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone. This wasn’t a random drive-by. That car was parked across the street and pulled out as soon as we left the diner. That shooter was aiming at us. Another inch one way or the other…”

  Kendall knew why Holden might think Isaac was involved, but that couldn’t be right. The FBI might want to do everything it could to help secure her cover, but even Isaac wouldn’t try and kill her to do it.

  “No way,” she said. “My ex might be a total dick, but he doesn’t know people with automatic weapons. And he definitely doesn’t have the money to hire someone to kill us. Hell, half the time we went out, I ended up paying. It might be nice to think he was involved, but it wasn’t him.”

  Holden looked like he was more than ready to argue that point, but his phone rang before he could say anything. He looked pissed at the interruption, but as he’d already told her before, not answering his phone wasn’t an option for him. Still, she was surprised at the confusion that crossed his face when he saw the number that showed up on the screen.

  “I have to take this,” he murmured, giving her an apologetic look before walking out of the room.

  Kyla and Kimber took the opportunity to ask if Kendall was thirsty, hungry, or needed them to bring her anything from Holden’s place. She smiled, trying to convince them she was fine, but truthfully, it was kind of overwhelming having this many people around worrying about her. She had friends in the Bureau, but she wasn’t sure how many of them would go all out for her like they were. It was nice. But also, a little painful, too. It was going to be hard losing all this when everything came out into the open.

  She’d finally agreed to let Kyla bring her a book to read when she peeked around the women and saw Holden standing out in the hallway. He was still talking on the phone, and he looked pissed. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could tell from the tension in his body that he was this close to going ballistic at whoever was on the other end of the conversation.

  Kendall was still trying to figure out what that was about when Dalton’s cell rang. He was still reaching for it when Wes’s went off, too. They both glanced at their call screens, then walked out into the hallways to answer their phones.

  “Crap,” Kyla said softly.

  “What’s wrong?” Kendall asked, suddenly worried as her friends visibly tensed.

  “The guys all getting calls at the same time is normally a sign of a short notice call-up,” Kimber whispered, her eyes locked on Dalton. “They’re going somewhere.”

  Kendall thought she might start hyperventilating. “Holden can’t go anywhere. He just got back.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Kyla said. “I’ve been around them long enough to know that.”

  Kendall praye
d they were wrong, but thirty seconds later, Holden, Dalton, and Wes came in, grim looks on their faces.

  “I have to go.” Holden leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry I have to leave you like this. Promise me you’ll be careful and rest as much as you need to.”

  Kendall heard Wes and Dalton talking softly to Kyla and Kimber, likely saying words similar to Holden’s. She nodded, wanting to ask all the questions she knew he couldn’t answer. Where was he going? Was it safe? When would he back?” She bit her tongue, not wanting to waste time on the unimportant stuff.

  “You’ll be careful, right?” she asked. “And call as soon as you can?”

  Holden kissed her gently on the lips. “I will, baby. Promise.”

  Then Holden and his buddies were gone, leaving a deadening silence in the room.

  “They’ll be okay,” Kimber whispered.

  Kendall prayed she was right. Because right then, all she cared about was Holden coming back safe and sound.

  Then reality came crashing in, as she realized the FBI’s number one suspect was disappearing only days before the Dark Web auction was supposed to take place. Isaac was going to have a cow.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HOLDEN SAT LOW in the Zodiac with Wes, riding the ocean swells and studying the large ship ahead of them as it chugged due west toward Baler Bay on the eastern coast of the largest of the Philippine Islands. The running lights of the Buffalo Soldier Class cargo ship were on, making it look like everything was completely normal, but it was impossible to miss that there wasn’t a soul wandering the decks of the large ammunition carrier. And considering there was supposed to be a crew of twenty-one contract mariners aboard, the lack of movement worried the hell out of him. There was a good chance that most of them had already been executed.

  According to the CIA briefing they’d received on the sixteen-hour flight across the Pacific, the ammo ship had reported in approximately twenty-two hours ago, declaring they were having problems with their communication and global position equipment, and that they might have to take both systems offline to make repairs. A short time later, the ship had gone radio silent and its GPS transponder had stopped broadcasting its location. Since the ship had reported technical problems in advance, it was likely no one in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command would have taken note of the issue if they hadn’t been waiting for something like this to happen.

  Within hours, the Navy and CIA had satellite confirmation that the vessel loaded with nearly twenty-thousand tons of Air Force bombs had diverted off course and was heading straight for the Philippines. The CIA’s worst fears had come true. A group of terrorists had captured a ship full of explosives. The area they were heading to wasn’t heavily populated in comparison to any major port in America, but a blast involving this much explosives anywhere in Baler Bay would level the nearby cities and the people living near that part of the coastline wouldn’t survive.

  “We’re moving toward the bow,” Dalton’s voice announced softly in Holden’s earpiece. “We’ll be in position in ten minutes.”

  “Understood,” he answered as Wes turned the Zodiac and headed toward the stern of the ship, the engine on their small inflatable whisper quiet. “Be ready to go on my word.”

  In the other Zodiac with Sam and Noah, Dalton replied with a low, “Roger that.”

  Silence descended again as Wes worked their boat toward the ship, avoiding the worst of the heavy wake churned up by the vessel’s massive propellers as he lined up their approach to the aft port side. Coming in this way was dangerous since the bridge was so close. If a terrorist wandered out, there was a good chance the guy would see him and Wes, but it was worth the risk. Once they were over the rail and on board, they’d be able to engage the people who’d hijacked the vessel within thirty seconds. Getting control of the bridge was critical to the success of this mission.

  Holden lifted the 40mm grenade launcher to his shoulder, mentally doing the calculations necessary to make the shot. Putting a foam-covered grappling hook over the top of a moving ship’s deck railing while bobbing up and down in a small rubber raft—without bouncing it off a wall or porthole—was kind of tough.

  “You going to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Wes asked, talking just loud enough to be heard over the waves slapping against the sides of the boat.

  It took Holden a couple seconds to realize his friend wasn’t communicating over the team’s internal comm system. He looked over his shoulder to see Wes staring back at him in the green glow of his night vision goggles. Holden flipped off his own mic.

  “What are you talking about? You sat through the same mission brief I did. We’re boarding a ship to take down an unknown number of terrorists, hopefully without getting ourselves blown to a large, red mist.”

  Wes snorted as he steered the boat forward. “I know what we’re supposed to do on this mission. I’m asking you what the hell’s been eating you since we left San Diego. And don’t try and tell me it’s nothing. I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something has you pissed. Is this about what happened with Kendall and that drive-by?”

  Holden ground his jaw. He wasn’t mad at Wes. He was pissed at the man who put Kendall in the hospital.

  “It wasn’t a random drive-by,” he said. “It was a warning. Though if Kendall and I had ended up dead, McKinney would have been fine with that, too.”

  “McKinney is the one who tried to kill you?” Wes repeated. “You’re shitting me.”

  The way Wes said it made it sound like people trying to kill Holden was an everyday occurrence. Which, now that he thought about it, was pretty close to the truth. Except this wasn’t some terrorist looking to put a bullet in him. It was someone he never would have expected.

  “He’s the one who called me at the hospital,” Holden said. “He wanted to make sure I knew he was the one who sent those guys after me. The fact that Kendall was with me was irrelevant to him.”

  Wes stared at him. At least, it looked like he was. It was hard to tell with NVGs on. “Why the hell would McKinney try to kill you? I know it got ugly there for a bit, but you said he’s like a father to you or something. Besides, you stole that little piece of tech for him.”

  Saying things had gotten ugly with McKinney when he and Wes had asked to borrow the equipment to break into Kimber’s office was an understatement. McKinney had incorrectly assumed he was going back to working for the old man permanently. When Holden informed him that he wasn’t, he and Wes had gotten into a tussle with McKinney’s muscle.

  There’d been a minute there when Holden thought the only way the situation was going to end was with someone dead. Probably more than a few someone’s. But fortunately, the fight ended before it got to that. Holden figured McKinney had accepted the reality that stealing something for him in exchange for using the gear had been a one-time deal.

  Maybe he hadn’t.

  Holden glanced at the ship. They’d be in position within a minute or two. He flipped on his comm for a second and let Dalton know, then flipped it back off and turned back to Wes. “I think McKinney’s nervous the people we stole that thing from are going to find him through me. He said the drive-by was a reminder of the kind of reach he has and that if I do anything stupid—like rat him out—he’ll kill me. I think that’s bullshit. I think he wanted his goons to kill me yesterday and since they didn’t, he’s calling it a warning.”

  “What are we going to do?” Wes asked.

  They were getting closer to the ammo ship, so there wasn’t time for a complex answer. He hefted his 40mm grenade launcher, checked to make sure the safety was off, then gave the simplest response he could.

  “I’m going to make sure McKinney understands that if he ever comes close to harming a single hair on Kendall’s head again, I’ll fucking erase him from existence.”

  Holden knew Wes was about to commit himself to helping with something that would likely land the both of them in prison. If they were lucky. As much as he appreciated that
, Holden couldn’t let him do it. Before Wes could say anything, he flipped his comm on and gave Dalton the go order then refocused his attention on his target, squeezing the trigger on the grenade launcher and sending the grappling hook sailing over the railing forty feet above him. There was a barely audible thud, then he was pulling the steel cable back in, setting the foam-covered claws into the space between two rails and attaching the small motorized ascender.

  “Let’s go shoot something,” he said, thumbing the button on the ascender and allowing it to jerk him out of the boat and up the side of the ammo ship.

  * * * * *

  There were four terrorists on the bridge holding the ship’s captain and two of his senior officers at gunpoint, making them sail the vessel closer and closer to Baler Bay. Two other crew members were lying dead on the deck.

  He and Wes didn’t announce themselves, didn’t try to make the other men drop their weapons or give themselves up. They simply stepped onto the bridge and shot all four of the terrorists in the head.

  “How many more are there?” Holden asked, stepping around the dead bad guys and approaching the captain.

  The man’s eyes were locked on the bodies on the floor, seemingly mesmerized by the growing pools of blood. Finally, he looked back up at him and Wes.

  “At least half a dozen that I’ve seen, but there are probably more.” Gray-haired, with weather-worn skin, he had a beard and mustache. He motioned towards the front of the ship. “They’re all in the main cargo holds, rigging the munitions to blow. They locked most of the crew in one of the topside MIL-CON containers, but they took some of the engineers down with them below deck. Don’t know why though.”

  Holden could think of several reasons the terrorists would want a handful of ship engineers and none of them were good. He pushed those thoughts aside and relayed the limited information he had to Dalton and his guys, then helped Wes clear the four bodies. It was doubtful the terrorists on the bridge were wearing any kind of improvised explosive device, but the only way to make sure was to search the corpses by hand. Once that was done, they checked the terrorists’ weapons and handed then them off to the ship’s crew.