CHAPTER EIGHT
CONSIDERING THEY WERE talking about Oklahoma football, Kurt should have been riveted to Sports Center on ESPN, but he’d barely heard a word the television analysts said. It was on the other side of midnight and after spending three long weeks in the sandbox, he should be in bed. But he was too busy thinking about Melissa to think. Had she listened to his message? Erased it? Hell, was she even home? For all he knew, she could be out with some guy. The thought made him want to punch something.
Shit.
Kurt was about to reach for his beer when the phone rang. He froze, his heart immediately kicking into another gear. Maybe it was Melissa. Then again, with his luck, it was probably HQ calling with another mission.
He grabbed the cordless handset from the couch where he’d tossed it after calling Melissa and pouring out his heart on her answering machine almost four hours ago. Or making an ass of himself; he wasn’t sure which.
“Travers.”
“Kurt… it’s Melissa.”
Relief flooded him. “Man, am I glad to hear your voice. You must have gotten my message.”
“I don’t know if she did or not,” a man said on the other end of the line. “But I’ve got one for you.”
Kurt bolted upright on the couch, his hand tightening around the phone. “Who the hell is this?”
“I’m kinda hurt you don’t remember me, seeing as we went a few rounds in the parking lot of that restaurant a couple weeks ago.”
Son of a bitch.
It was Big Mouth. Kurt could have kicked himself for not recognizing the asshole’s voice.
“If you hurt her, I will find you and I will kill you in the most painful way I know,” Kurt said. “And I know a lot of them.”
Big Mouth snorted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I ain’t gonna hurt your pretty girlfriend. Not if you do like I say, anyway.”
Kurt clenched his jaw. “What do you want?”
“Yeah, now that’s more like it,” Big Mouth said. “Meet me at the Broken Bottle Bar in fifteen minutes.”
Kurt had heard of the sleazy bar, but had never been there. “It’s going to take me at least twenty minutes to get there from where I am.”
“Then you better drive fast because I said fifteen. And come alone or else I’ll do a lot more than hurt your pretty girlfriend.”
With that, Big Mouth hung up.
Fuck.
Kurt knew there was no way in hell Big Mouth was going to be alone at that bar, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have time to round up the guys on his Team. Besides, Mack was the only one who even lived remotely close.
He dialed his friend’s number, praying Mack was home.
“Hunt.”
“Mack, it’s Kurt. Get your ass down to the Broken Bottle Bar ASAP.”
Kurt didn’t have time to wait for a reply. Instead, he tossed the cordless phone on the couch and scooped his keys up from the table in the entryway, then headed down the hall and out the exit door of his apartment building.
Luckily it was the middle of the night, so there wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road. Even so, Kurt barely made it to the bar in time. The place was a crappy hole in the wall that had seen better days. Since it was near closing time, the parking lot was empty except for a few cars. If this were a mission, he and his Team would go in with a plan, but he didn’t have time to come up with one. Not with Melissa in danger. So instead, he got out of the truck and walked right in the front door.
The interior of the bar was dimly lit, but he immediately spotted Melissa. She was sitting in a chair with her hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth. She looked terrified, but unharmed. The sight of her in such a vulnerable position was enough to almost bring him to his knees—and piss him off more than he’d ever been. If he had any doubts that what he felt for her was real, they disappeared in that moment.
Kurt would have run over to her right then—caution be damned—but Big Mouth was standing beside her, looking smug. The lowlife didn’t appear to have a weapon, but Kurt didn’t want to risk it. There were two more guys by the bar, and another at a table a few feet behind Melissa. The way they were eyeing Kurt with blatant hostility told him they almost certainly were part of this set-up.
Big Mouth snickered… and Kurt immediately felt like smashing in his face. “Didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come alone. Not that I blame you. This is one fine piece of ass you got here. I could see myself dragging my balls across broken glass for a chance to screw a woman like her.”
Kurt balled his hands into fists, fighting to control the anger building up inside him. “I’m here. You can let her go now.”
Big Mouth laughed and looked around the bar. “You boys hear that? He thinks he’s the one running the show.” His gaze slid back to Kurt as the other three men chuckled. “That’s not the way it’s going to work, asshole. The first time we met, I was a little drunk and you took me by surprise. This time, I’m going to put a beat down on you like you ain’t never had. I’m going to whup up on you like a redheaded stepchild right here in front of my boys. And when I’m done with you, I’m going to have some fun with your woman. If you ain’t unconscious, you can even watch. Then after that, I’m tossing both of you in the bay. We’ll see how well your ass floats with a concrete block tied to your fucking neck.”
Giving Kurt a self-satisfied grin, he half turned and ran a finger down Melissa’s cheek before bringing it to his mouth to lick it off. “Damn, this bitch is sweet.”
Kurt ground his jaw as Big Mouth took a step toward him—and away from Melissa. He hadn’t necessarily shown up here with the intention of killing this shithead, but now that might just change.
Big Mouth advanced on him confidently, that stupid grin spreading halfway across his face. Kurt wondered if he’d be as confident if he knew the guy he was coming at was a Navy SEAL. Probably. This moron seemed too stupid to know what a SEAL was.
Kurt moved to the left a little, into a more open area. There were a lot of small tables around them, but all the chairs had been placed on top to make room for cleaning, so there was plenty of space to work.
He was surprised Big Mouth hadn’t pulled a weapon. He was also a little shocked the other three guys hadn’t gotten up to join in the fight yet. Kurt guessed Big Mouth wanted to do this man to man. That was fine with him. Though he doubted Big Mouth was going to think so highly of the idea in a few seconds.
Big Mouth charged when he was about ten feet away, roaring like a hippo in heat and probably thinking he sounded scary. Actually, he just sounded silly.
Kurt waited until the man was about two feet away, then he stepped to the side and brought his right hand up in a quick ridge hand strike that landed solidly just below the idiot’s throat. Big Mouth went down hard, hitting the floor with a thud. The air that wasn’t knocked out by the impact of Kurt’s stiffened hand exploded as the man connected with the wood.
Big Mouth was still coughing and choking as he reached behind his back for something. Kurt saw the move coming and kicked out viciously just as a small handgun came into view. The weapon skittered and bounced across the floor, thumping into a far wall hard enough to knock a dent in the wood.
From his position on the floor, Big Mouth glared at his buddies. “What the hell are you idiots doing just standing there? Kick his ass!”
The other three men immediately came running, but Kurt didn’t give a crap. He was so angry at that point that he would have taken on a whole platoon full of shitheads to protect Melissa.
The first guy came in swinging like a psycho, but that ended when Kurt picked up a chair from a nearby table and smashed it into the man’s head. It wasn’t a fair move, but Kurt wasn’t here to fight fair. He was here to kick some ass and take Melissa home.
The other two were a little smarter. They split up and tried to come at Kurt from two sides at once. It might have worked, if this were the first time something like this had happened to Kurt. But he’d trained for this kind of stuff for years.
Grabbing another chair, he tossed it at the guy on the left, then turned and punched out the guy on the right. By the time the first one was done getting the furniture off his face, Kurt was waiting there to flip him over his hip and smack him face first into the edge of a table.
Big Mouth had finally climbed to his feet and was looking around like he was searching for something. More help, maybe. Or even his weapon. When he didn’t find either, he turned and ran for the door.
Kurt caught him in two steps, twisting him around and punching him repeatedly until he’d got all his anger out. Unfortunately for Big Mouth, it took a lot of punching to get to that point. By the time Kurt dropped the piece of shit to the floor, the guy’s face looked like someone had put it through a meat grinder.
Served the son of a bitch right.
Turning, Kurt hurried over to untie Melissa. The minute she was free, she was on her feet and in his arms, holding onto him tightly, her face pressed against his T-shirt. As much as he hated to pull away, he forced himself to step back and gently lift her chin.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did that asshole hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. What about you?” She gasped at the sight of his red and raw knuckles. “Your poor hand! It’s not broken, is it?”
Kurt couldn’t help smiling as Melissa cradled his tender hand in her delicate one. “Nah. I’ve hurt it worse than this playing football with the guys on the Team.”
She gave him a skeptical look and probably would have called him on it, but a voice interrupted them.
“Guess you didn’t need my help after all. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have rushed.”
Kurt turned to see Mack standing just inside the door, an amused look on his face as he took in the four men sprawled on the floor.
“Call the cops, would you?” Kurt said. “There’s a payphone in the back by the restrooms.”
Mack headed that way, giving them a nod as he passed.
“That’s a guy on the Team. I’ll introduce you later,” Kurt said, turning back to Melissa. “First there’s something I need to tell you.”
He would have continued, but she put a finger to his lips, shushing him.
“Me first,” she said.
* * *
Melissa hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but she’d spent the last thirty minutes terrified for her life and Kurt’s. While her captor had been waiting for Kurt to show up, he’d taken great pleasure in telling her exactly what he was going to do to her after he killed her boyfriend. If she hadn’t been gagged, she would have told him that her boyfriend was a Navy SEAL and that Kurt would be the one beating up him and his equally slimy friends. But when Kurt had walked into the bar alone, looking even more handsome than she remembered, it was all she could do not to beg him to turn around and walk out so he wouldn’t get hurt.
If she hadn’t been sure she was in love with him before, she was now. And after what happened tonight, she wasn’t waiting any longer to tell him.
“I got your message,” she said softly. “I was coming over to see you when that jerk grabbed me.”
Kurt frowned. “How did you know where I live?”
“I heard you give your address to the cops that first night and remembered it.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I had no intention of stalking you, I swear.”
His mouth twitched. “You can stalk me whenever you like.”
If he only knew how close she’d been to doing that these past few weeks. “Did you mean everything you said? On the answering machine, I mean.”
“Yes.” Now he was the one who looked a little embarrassed. “I know I rambled on, but everything I said was true. I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you those things before I left your place that night.”
Melissa shook her head. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to sleep with you. When you said you had to go on a mission, I got scared and I lost it. I’m never going to be thrilled about the job you do, but I know it’s who you are. I’m willing to deal with it to have you in my life.”
He did a double take. “Are you sure?”
She reached up to caress his hair-roughened jaw. “I’m sure. I’m still a little scared—and will be every time you leave to go somewhere—but I’m sure. More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
This near him, it was easy to forget they were standing in the middle of a seedy bar. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, then opened them again as she remembered something.
“The tape on my answering machine ran out right as you were about to say something,” she said, taking a step back to look up at him. “What was it?”
Kurt smiled. “That I love you.”
Melissa felt her heart do a little dance at his declaration. She smiled. “I thought that was it, but I wanted to be sure. I love you too, in case you didn’t know.”
Falling in love with a man after only two dates was crazy. But Melissa knew what was in her heart. She was in love with this man. And that was the only thing that mattered.
Kurt pulled her in for a kiss that made her wish they weren’t in the middle of that same seedy bar. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little nervous about the journey she was about to embark on. Being the wife of a Navy SEAL was going to be hard, but for a chance to be with a man as special as Kurt, she could do it.
* * * * *
I hope you enjoyed Kurt and Melissa’s story!
Fast forward twenty years later and Navy SEAL Kurt Travers is now Master Chief of an entire platoon of hunky Navy SEALs in Coronado, California. One of those SEALs is Chasen Ward, and he falls hard and fast for a woman he rescues from terrorists.
Here’s a sneak peek at SEAL FOR HER PROTECTION, Book One in my SEALs of Coronado Series, which is FREE right now for a limited time.
He saved her once. Can he save her again?
Investigative journalist Hayley Garner is no damsel in distress. Fiery, feisty and tough, she can handle herself in the field. But when she’s kidnapped by terrorists, she knows she’s in real trouble. Then in sweeps sexy, rugged Navy SEAL Chasen Ward to rescue her from certain death. After getting her to safety, he disappears into the night before she can even thank him.
Weeks later, Hayley encounters Chasen again and finds herself falling into a passionate romance with the hunky hero out of her dreams. But ever since she's returned home, Hayley feels as if someone's watching her. Is it post-traumatic stress or does she have reason to be afraid?
PROLOGUE
Nigeria, Africa
FROM WHERE SHE sat on the floor, Hayley Garner looked around the dank, smelly pigsty of the makeshift prison cell, seeing nothing she hadn’t seen the last three days. It was dark outside now, but the single bare lightbulb hanging from one of the overhead beams allowed her to make out the rough concrete block walls and the two pieces of corrugated sheet metal hastily attached to the brick covering what had once been windows.
She’d left the security of the city of Maiduguri to get the real story of what life was like in the war-torn area, especially in the small villages beyond the limited reach of the Nigerian Army. But getting captured by the Boko Haram terrorists she was here to write about was never part of that plan, and now she was in serious trouble.
She hugged her knees and stared at the door that served as the only way in or out of the room. It was impossible to look away from it for more than a few seconds at a time because she was terrified one of the terrorists would storm in at any minute and catch her unaware. Though she had no idea how she was supposed to prepare herself for what she knew was coming soon.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, berating herself for ever having left the dorm rooms at the university where she’d been staying with the other international journalists. But she’d been sent by her paper back in the States to get real stories, not the fabricated stuff the local military command had been trying to sell them, and the only way to do that was to go outside the city.
According to the official word, Boko Haram was a decimated fighting force, barely hanging onto a few tattered strongholds out in the jungles along the far eastern edges of Borno State, but all it took was one look at the terrified faces of the locals—not to mention one moment spent listening to the sounds of intense fighting outside the city at night—to convince her that was all crap. So she’d slipped away, made a deal to get a vehicle, and headed toward one of the local villages that had recently been attacked in the hopes of getting something real. That’s when she’d been ambushed by the Boko Haram and her Land Rover had flipped over. She’d been knocked unconscious and woken up in this nasty place. While she had a cell to herself, she wasn’t the only woman being held captive. The screams of the other female prisoners echoed in the air at all hours of the day and night. She shuddered to think what was happening to them.
For the first day or so, she’d held out some hope the men who’d rammed her Land Rover off the road a few miles south of the village of Dalori would ransom her back to the government in return for weapons, money, or food—maybe even a prisoner exchange. That hope had faded quickly when the terrorists had come into her prison cell to taunt her with her fate. They took turns shoving her around, laughing as they told her in words she barely understood what she was in for as soon after the “colonel” returned from wiping out whatever poor, defenseless village had attracted his unfortunate attention.
In three short days, Hayley had come to hate the tiny space she was being held in, hate the single naked bulb over her head that flickered but never went out, and hate the door standing between her and freedom. Worse than all of that, she hated the creak of the door opening. Because at some point, it would mean the horrible men were done taunting and laughing at her. Then things would get much worse.
Hayley knew they were going to kill her because they’d already done that many times with foreign captives, especially journalists. The thought terrified her, but not nearly as much as what they would probably do to her before they got around to killing her. They’d done a lot of horrific things to a lot of women in general, foreign ones included.
Her only hope lay in escaping, but she couldn’t imagine how that would even be possible. Not only was the one door in the room never left unlocked, but her ankle had been twisted badly in the car wreck. Her foot and ankle were purple from her toes to mid-shin and if it wasn’t broken, she’d definitely torn ligaments and tendons. Putting any weight on it was excruciatingly painful and walking on it was nearly impossible. Running on it was out of the question.
But, if she were going to try, now was the time. The camp she was in had grown completely quiet. Even the sounds of pain and suffering had fallen silent.
She slowly shoved herself to her feet, gritting her teeth as the pain in her ankle almost stole her conviction away. She fought back another wave of tears. She was getting out of here, dammit. Clenching her hands into fists, she took a step toward the door
Outside, there was a deep, low thud followed by a sharp cracking sound reverberating through the night.
Hayley froze. She’d reported from enough battlefields to recognize an explosion when she heard one. What the…?
Abruptly, the light bulb overhead flickered once then died away, plunging the windowless space into total and claustrophobic darkness. It wasn’t until then she realized the electricity in the place had come from a generator. She only knew it now because the constant droning sound she’d taken as background noise was gone.
Outside, the encampment erupted in a barrage of gunfire and loud, angry shouts. It was sporadic and wild, like there were people shooting in every direction at once. Had the Nigerian Army come for her?
She heard yelling right outside the door of her prison cell, then the rapid pop, pop, pop of semi-automatic weapons fire. It was quickly followed by the thud of something slamming hard enough against the door to jar it in its frame.
Her heart thudded in her chest as fear poured through her. If the terrorists thought they were about to be overrun, would they try to take her with them or simply kill her? Which would be worse?
Before she could decide, the door burst open, not swinging into the room but flying off its cheap hinges and hitting the floor.
Hayley jumped back in surprise, falling against the rough block wall and barely staying upright. She stared hard into the darkness but couldn’t see anything more than a big silhouette of a man slipping through as silently as a ghost.
She was trying to decide if she should run around the guy when an American voice stopped her cold.
“Hayley Garner, US Navy SEALs. We’re here to take you home.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs in a rush, the adrenaline that had been keeping her going for three days draining out of her right there on the spot. Legs wobbly, she slid down the wall and would have hit the floor but the big guy in military gear was suddenly at her side, catching her.
She couldn’t see much of him, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering into the room from the hallway, she realized he was wearing night vision goggles. No wonder he could move so fast in the dark.
The SEAL slipped one arm behind her back, gently holding her up. “Are you injured? Can you walk?”
She opened her mouth to answer when another round of gunfire cut her off. It sounded like a flat-out war was going on around them. How had this guy gotten in here by himself?
“Ma’am, are you injured?” he asked urgently.
She nodded but then figured he probably needed more info. What the hell was wrong with her? She usually had it more together than this even in stressful situations.
“Yes,” she finally got out. “I did something to my right ankle. I can’t put any weight on it.”
Hayley expected him to curse. Maybe get on a radio and call for backup—or a stretcher. Instead, he wrapped his left arm around her more tightly then slipped his right hand behind her knees and scooped her right up off her feet like it was nothing—all while still holding some kind of short rifle
“Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on tight,” he instructed as he headed for the door. “This might get a little bumpy. Sorry if it hurts.”
She started to tell him she didn’t care how bumpy it got, she just wanted to get the hell out of there, but she didn’t get the chance because he took off running down the hallway with her in his arms like she was a rag doll.
He was saying strange words in hushed tones as they ran, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to her. He must have some kind of voice-activated radio so he could talk to the other members of his SEAL Team. He was saying something about coming out of objective Bravo and that he’d be taking the primary lane of movement toward the alternate extraction point. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was sure as heck glad he did.
Hayley didn’t know what to expect when they came out of the building she’d been held prisoner in for three days, but what she found was definitely not anything close to what she imagined.
It was completely chaotic, with fires burning, explosions rocking the buildings around them, and men carrying AK assault rifles running everywhere and shooting in all directions. It didn’t take a genius to figure out none of the men were on the SEAL’s side. They were Boko Haram terrorists shooting into the darkness and trying to hit the ghosts attacking them.
Her savior lifted her higher in his arms, tilting his weapon up a little with his right hand and taking out the first two men who came running at them. Then he turned right and hauled butt toward the edge of the camp. Crap, he could really move.
Hayley held her breath, sure someone was going to kill them, but every time one of the terrorists even turned to look in their direction the man went down with no evidence of where the shot had come from. She didn’t know where the shots were coming from either, but somewhere out there in the darkness, she and her SEAL had a couple of guardian angels.
As they ran, Hayley thought she might have caught sight of several other SEALs either running toward the fight or carrying rescued prisoners like her away from it.
A few minutes later, she and her rescuer were outside the encampment and in the surrounding desert. They’d barely crested the top of a sandy hill when she saw a blur of movement coming down from the sky. A staccato thump, thump, thump she could feel in her chest told her it might be a helicopter, but it was much quieter than any she’d ever heard before.
Then a big black shape dropped to the ground at the bottom of the slope and Hayley realized it really was a helicopter, albeit a lot stranger looking than she was used to seeing, made up of sharp angles and sleek curves. Before she knew it, a door in the side of the thing slid open and her SEAL handed her off to another guy in dark clothes and NVGs.
“Watch her right ankle,” her SEAL told the man as he flipped up his NVGs to help get her in the canvas seat of the aircraft.
Other SEALs appeared out of the darkness, carrying rescued women of their own. Off to the side, about fifty feet away, Hayley saw yet another one of the strange helicopters being loaded with more women, each carried in by a SEAL.
The journalist in Hayley tried to look everywhere at once, hoping to take everything in and remember it. There wasn’t very much light coming from the interior of the helicopter, but in the little there was, she saw her savior had the most beautiful blue eyes God had ever given a man.
“These people will get you and the others to safety,” he said as he checked her seatbelt one last time.
“Aren’t you coming, too?” she asked when he started to back away.
The urge to reach out and grab him was nearly impossible to resist. But every seat in the helicopter was taken up by her and the other women. There was no room for the SEALs.
“We’re not leaving yet,” he said, and all Hayley could do was lock on his amazing smile and beautiful blue eyes. “My Team and I have a lot more before we’re done here. Take care.”
With that, her SEAL turned and ran back toward the terrorist camp—and the shooting. Then the door slid closed and the super quiet helicopter lifted away in a fast ascent.
That’s when it finally hit Hayley she was going to live through this, and she’d found the story she’d come to Nigeria for.
SEAL FOR HER PROTECTION
Want more hunky SEALs?
Check out the other books in the SEALs of Coronado Series!
Also Check out MY SEAL BODYGUARD!
When someone breaks into romance author Peyton Matthews’ Virginia Beach home to steal her newest manuscript, her publisher hires Noah Chase, a former Navy SEAL and the newest member of GAPS to be her bodyguard.
Peyton thinks the idea of needing a bodyguard is ridiculous, but she can’t help appreciating how gorgeous Noah is. And while she thought that having a stranger hanging around 24/7 would mess with her creativity, the Navy SEAL definitely comes in handy when she’s choreographing fight scenes. All that hand-to-hand action and rolling around on the floor with him gets her pulse racing, but while Noah is falling for Peyton too, he doesn’t act on it. He needs to keep his head in the game and focus on the job or he could end up getting her killed. She might not think she’s in danger, but his gut tells him differently.
The threat to Peyton is closer to home than she realizes however, and it will take all of Noah’s SEAL training to save her life.
For more Military Heroes check out my X-OPS and SWAT Series!
X-OPS
Her Perfect Mate
Her Lone Wolf
Her Wild Hero
Her Fierce Warrior
Her Rogue Alpha
Her True Match
Her Dark Half
Exposed
SWAT (Special Wolf Alpha Team)
Hungry Like the Wolf
Wolf Trouble
In the Company of Wolves
To Love a Wolf
Wolf Unleashed
Wolf Hunt
Wolf Hunger
Wolf Rising
ABOUT PAIGE
Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She and her very own military hero (also known as her husband) live on the beautiful Florida coast with their adorable fur baby (also known as their dog). Paige graduated with a degree in education, but decided to pursue her passion and write books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines who fall in love with them.
She is represented by Bob Mecoy.
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