Sarah grinned at the young girl in her first physical therapy session in the morning.  The girl had recently gotten a cast off her leg after falling and breaking her ankle, and Sarah was working with her to help the child regain strength and mobility.

“Thank you so much,” the mother said as they were leaving the brightly adorned therapy room they used for children.  “We’ll work on the exercises you taught us.”

“Wonderful.  Keep up the good work, kiddo!” Sarah said as she knelt down by the girl.  “I’ll see you and your mom next week.”

She glanced down at her tablet and noted she had half an hour before her next client arrived.  She walked down the hallway to the small breakroom and microwaved a cup of hot water for her tea.  She’d felt jittery all day yesterday after drinking the super strong coffee at Morgan’s.  Give her some nice jasmine green tea any day.  She pulled a cup of overnight oats from her thermal lunch bag and sprinkled some chia seeds on top.  She’d meant to eat her breakfast as soon as she arrived to work but had gotten distracted texting Morgan instead.

Good grief.

Apparently Mike from the weekend had been drunk-dialing her all Sunday night.  Which was exactly why Sarah didn’t give out her number to random men she just met.  Shouldn’t that guy have been back in New York anyway?

She pulled her mug from the microwave, dunking the tea bag in, and ate a spoonful of oatmeal.  She’d gotten home waaaay too late last night, but on the plus side, she’d avoided the notorious traffic on the bridge and tunnels from VA Beach leading back to Norfolk.  She needed a private helicopter to fly home or something.

Right.

Like that wasn’t a waste of gasoline, she thought with a smirk.

Maybe Ryan could’ve rounded up a Navy one for her.  Those guys probably flew between bases and practiced jumps into the ocean with it or something, but it could’ve made a quick flight to Norfolk, right?  There were plenty of shipyards around here.  Hmmm.  Patrick never told her anything about his SEAL training, but suddenly she was picturing Ryan piloting a helicopter around VA Beach.  Taking in aerial views of the sand and water.  She didn’t like the man much at the moment, but still, the image of him in uniform piloting a helicopter was kind of sexy.

Ha.  Her mini cruiser served her just fine, thank you very much, and she still was amused at the idea of Ryan trying to fold his large frame inside.  Too bad their night had ended with his acting like a complete ass.  Typical man.  The rest of them were having a little fun at the beach and he’d stood there scowling like their chaperone or something.  Then run off to the office.  Base.  Wherever the hell he went.

It was amazing he’d even come with her to grab a drink.  It if wasn’t written in his 24-hour military schedule, it didn’t happen.

“How was your weekend?” her coworker asked, walking into the breakroom.

“Great!  Can’t go wrong with the beach.  I got in plenty of sun, sand, and drinks at the oceanside bars.”

“And how about the barbeque?  Did you meet any hot Navy men?”

“Ha.  I told you my brother is a Navy SEAL.  His friends wouldn’t look twice at me—besides, all the men on his team are spoken for.”

“Maybe you should move to Coronado,” her friend said with a grin, referring to the Navy SEAL base on the other side of the country.

“Right.  Knowing Patrick, he knows half the men there as well.  I don’t need a military guy anyway—too straight-laced and uptight.”

Peals of laughter filled the air.  “Sarah, I’ve dated my fair share of military men—they’re all over Norfolk.  And not one of them was uptight.  They were all about boozing and babes.”

Sarah shrugged, standing to go rinse her reusable container and coffee mug in the sink.  “All right, I’ll give you that.  The higher they rise in the ranks though, the bigger an asshole they are.”

“Spoken like a woman who knows.”

“Just an observation.”  She glanced at the clock on the wall.  “Anyway, I’ve got my next patient in ten.  Catch up over lunch?”

“Sounds good.  See you later!”

Sarah rounded the corner and headed down the hall to her next appointment.  As she passed by the TV in the reception area, news of a missing American woman flashed across the screen.  Sarah’s gut clenched as she stopped to listen.  According to CNN, a recent video had surfaced, allegedly of an American woman being held hostage in Afghanistan.  Although she’d been missing for more than a week, this was the first time the media had reported it.  Her eyes widened as she saw how young the woman was—probably just in her mid-twenties.  All alone being held hostage in a foreign land.

She shuddered.

Word from the Pentagon is that troops will be sent in on a secret rescue operation to obtain the missing American woman, the anchorman said.

Sarah rolled her eyes.  Yeah, some secret.  Just announce it on CNN for the entire world to hear.

As you know, the anchorman continued, the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.  Options include awaiting her release, which doesn’t seem likely, or sending in troops to rescue her.

“Who will go in after her?” the anchorman asked the former military intelligence officer they were interviewing.

“Most likely the Special Forces will be sent in to conduct an operation such as this—possibly the Navy SEALs.”

Sarah froze.

“They’re trained for instances like this—rapid deployment, secretive operations, hostage rescues.  That’d be my guess in a situation like this.”

And this just in, the anchorman continued, the group claiming responsibility for the kidnapping are demanding $50 million for her release.  No word on the condition of the hostage, although it is believed video footage will be released soon.

Sarah’s stomach churned as she hurried down the hall to her next appointment.  Hostage rescue.  Navy SEALs.  She knew Patrick’s team got sent on all sorts of dangerous missions—most that never played out on national television.  They dealt with dangerous men all the time.  Situations she couldn’t even dream of. 

There were other SEAL teams.  It wouldn’t necessarily be Patrick.

She had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake though. 

She’d call him after work.  He couldn’t fill her in, obviously, or even let her know if he was in fact leaving.  But she’d feel better when she heard his calm assurances over the phone.

Worry niggled at the back of her mind for the remainder of the morning.  Her intuition had never proven her wrong before.

***

Ryan grit his teeth as he watched the news coverage splash across the big screen in the bull pen.  Leaked information like this was what got men killed.  Reporters wanting the biggest scoop were putting his men in danger.  Were putting the hostage in danger. Nothing like telling the enemy they were coming.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pounded his fist on the table in frustration.

“It gets me every damn time when they put that shit on the news,” Patrick grumbled beside him.

“It’s all about ratings,” Ryan grumbled.  “The networks don’t give a crap about the boots on the ground or lives in danger.  Forget the secrecy of the mission—they want to break the story first.”

“Damn fools,” Patrick said.

The secure video connection went through a moment later, and Ryan and Patrick were staring at a roomful of generals and admirals in a secure conference room at the Pentagon.

“We’re sending your team in,” Admiral Davis barked.  “Team Delta as well.  Chatter confirms the hostage is in the camp shown in the sat imagery.  It’s all over the damn media.  We’re going to retrieve the hostage before they move her to a secondary location or make good on their threats.”

“Understood,” Ryan said. 

“Word hasn’t leaked yet that she’s the Senator’s daughter, but with the way this shit storm is brewing, it’s only a matter of time.  I want her out of there before that makes the evening news.”

“The Blackhawks are on standby,” Ryan said in a clipped tone.  “My SEAL team will be on the next C-17 out of Virginia.”

“Team Delta is already en route,” Admiral Davis continued.  “You’ll meet up at base in Afghanistan, and the teams will go in at 2300 tomorrow night.”

“Sir, we’ll retrieve the Senator’s daughter,” Patrick assured him.

“I don’t doubt it,” the Admiral said.  “We all know how pressing this matter is.”

The connection disappeared, and Ryan turned to Patrick, who had a frown on his face.  “Notify the rest of the team we’re deploying immediately.  Flights leaves in two hours.  I’ll be watching the takedown of this op live.”

“Understood,” Patrick assured him.  “We’ll coordinate with Delta once we land?”

“Affirmative.  You’ll have specs and coordinates to review on your flight over.  Hash out the final details there.  You’ll each be approaching the camp from opposite directions.  We don’t want them getting wind of this op and heading out with the hostage.”

“I’ll notify the rest of the men,” Patrick said.

Patrick walked out of the bull pen, and Ryan’s gaze was drawn back to the live newsfeed.  Hell of a Monday morning.