Chapter 9

 

Patrick stretched his tight muscles as he stood, adjusting his communications gear and putting on his flak vest and helmet. Nothing like an uncomfortable fourteen-hour flight across the Atlantic in a cargo plane. Next he’d hop on an armored convoy with the rest of his men to the forward-operating base deep in the Afghani desert. He’d gotten only a few hours of shut-eye, dreaming he was on the beach with Rebecca and the kids. His gaze scanned the cabin, watching the other men on his team gearing up. He clenched his jaw.

He was about as far from Virginia Beach as he could be at the moment.

Just the other damn side of the world.

He took one last glance at the maps of the insurgents’ camp before pocketing them. He’d already memorized the details of where the buildings were located, his mind calculating all the possible scenarios of how the rescue op would play out.

One thing was certain—they wouldn’t be leaving without the American woman.

His gut churned at the idea of her being held hostage for over a week. When Rebecca had a stalker last year, he’d been beside himself with worry, needing to assure her safety at all costs. Every man on the team had stepped up, watching her 24/7. Imagining harm coming to this other woman had him seeing red.

He grabbed the rest of his gear, readying to disembark, but the CO’s voice in his ear instantly had him on alert.

“Understood,” he said quietly into his headset as he received some instructions from Little Creek.

“Listen up, men,” Patrick rumbled. All eyes swept to him. “We’re going in sooner than planned. The Pentagon moved up the timeline since Delta is already on the ground.”

“We’re moving in immediately, Ice?” Christopher asked.

“Affirmative. As soon as we rendezvous with Delta and go over the last-minute specs. These guys will get us to base,” he said, cocking his head toward the opened ramp on the cargo plane and the armored vehicles waiting below, “but once we’re there, we’re gearing up to go in and rescue the hostage. Two Black Hawks are already standing by.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Brent muttered, his eyes heating. “The sooner we get her out of there, the better.”

Patrick nodded, his blood pressure rising. Brent’s own sister had been killed years ago by a jilted ex-boyfriend, but none of the men took the idea of harm coming to a woman lightly. She’d been held captive for over a week, and there was no telling what her condition was.

He slid on his night-vision goggles and deplaned, his boots pounding on the metal ramp before walking across the dusty ground. A couple of strides more and he was hopping into one of the Humvees.

Their eyes swept the desert as the convoy rolled out, scanning the area for any signs of trouble. It would be a suicide mission for any of the locals to attempt to attack a large convoy, but that sure as hell hadn’t stopped them before.

After thirty minutes of speeding across the quiet desert, they were hustling into base and strapping on their gear.

“You checked the coordinates, Flip?” Patrick asked, calling Evan by his nickname.

“Yep, programmed right into everyone’s GPS. We’ve pinpointed the hut the American woman is suspected to be held hostage in within a matter of inches.”

“Good. We can’t leave a damn thing to chance. There’s been a lot of movement around the camp today, and SecDef is worried the insurgents know how valuable their hostage is. He could just be projecting, but recent chatter indicated they were raising the ransom to $100 million.”

“It’s on the news,” Christopher said, walking over in his flak vest and gear. He rested his HK416 assault rifle on the table spread with maps.

“Shit, already?” Evan asked.

“All over fucking CNN,” Patrick confirmed. “They ran a story this morning saying an American woman is being held hostage, but it’s been nonstop coverage all day. Hell, even Rebecca knew about it when I went to say goodbye to her this morning. It’d be too much of a damn coincidence for them not to figure out where we are. Operational security or not, the media handed this info to everyone on a silver platter.”

“Damn it,” Evan muttered. “Ali’s always worried enough when I deploy. It sure as shit doesn’t help that it’s splashed all over the news. They can practically watch it unfold in real time.”

“Guess we know why they moved up this rodeo,” Matthew drawled, adjusting his headset. He shucked his flak vest on, glancing down at the maps.

“Let’s get this fucking show on the road,” Brent said, eyes blazing. “Every minute we waste is another minute harm could come to the hostage.”

Patrick nodded, his gut churning. He didn’t like the idea of a woman in harm’s way, but the fact that the media had latched on to this story didn’t bode well for any of them. The insurgents holding her hostage could’ve realized she was a high-value target. Maybe they thought it would help them in negotiating with Washington, but maybe it would have the opposite effect. They could be all the more eager to harm her, knowing just how valuable she was.

The CO addressed them over the headsets from back in Little Creek. “Delta should be ready to roll out. They’re on the move now.”

Patrick’s gaze swept to the door as Delta team came into the room, already dressed in their tactical gear. He shook hands with Hunter, the leader of the Delta team. Some of the men on Patrick’s team already knew Colton, another member of Delta. Introductions were made amongst the two SEAL teams, and then they got down to business.

“The Alpha team will be sweeping in from the mountains,” Patrick said, pointing to the map. His gaze slid over the coordinates, his face hardening. “We believe the hostage is being held right here.”

“We’ll be infiltrating the camp from the opposite side,” Hunter said, his voice deep. “C-4 and I will head for the hostage in case something goes wrong on your end. The other men will be back-up as we sweep through the camp.”

“If everything goes FUBAR, head for the mountains,” the CO said over the headset. “We’ll track your coordinates via GPS. Black Hawks will be sent in after you hunker down. Priority number one is rescue of the American woman.”

“Roger that,” Patrick ground out.

The two teams moved out, Patrick leading his men in a quick jog to a waiting Black Hawk. They quietly flew through the night, the insurgents’ camp coming into view in the distance through their night vision goggles.

“Two minutes out,” the pilot said over the headsets.

The low “whoosh, whoosh” of the helicopter blades penetrated his thoughts as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Mountains came into close view as the pilot swept close, attempting to avoid detection of the insurgents’ camp. Grinding his teeth, Patrick stood as Evan opened the hatch for them to jump out into the dark night.

They hit the ground running, disconnecting their chutes within seconds. Patrick moved forward in his combat gear, letting his finger hover over the trigger of his HK416 assault rifle as he eyed the insurgents scattering around the camp like ants coming out of their nest.

His narrowed gaze swept the area, tracking everything through his night vision goggles—the buildings surrounded by the wall they were readying to infiltrate. The men moving around. The mountains off to the right.

The sliver of a moon provided the smallest hint of light. And while there was activity buzzing on the outskirts, most of the camp remained asleep. Unaware.

His boots quietly scuffed across the dusty ground, barely making a sound as he and his men silently moved forward. His weapon moved back and forth as he scanned the area, flanked by Mike. The rest of the men on his team moved in groups of two behind him.

Patrick muttered a curse as he scanned the area. “Two guards on the outskirts,” Patrick said quietly into his mouthpiece.

“Both heavily armed,” Mike said. “Assault rifles, looks like grenades and a rocket launcher.”

The other men on the two SEAL teams provided updates on their positions, and then suddenly the word from their CO back in Little Creek came to move in.

Gunfire broke out on the desert side of camp, where the Delta Team was. Matthew and Brent took out the guards on the mountain side as Patrick and Mike swept into the camp area, near where they believed the American hostage was being held.

Patrick’s gaze slid over the ramshackle huts. The scent of gunpowder and burning wood filled the air. Shouts from men on the other side of camp filled his ears.

“We’re making our approach. Third hut over,” Mike said on his headset.

“One guard outside,” Patrick said.

A breeze blew through the otherwise still night air. Gunfire sounded in the distance.

Mike’s laser scope aimed at the guard from one hundred feet away, and a moment later, the man slumped over.

“Man out,” Mike said. “We’re heading for the package.”

Patrick’s gaze swept the area, the view slightly grainy through his night vision goggles. A movement from near the hut caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes. Turned his head slightly to the left.

“I’m going in,” Mike said as he moved to the right, kicking open the flimsy door.

A woman’s scream pierced the air, and suddenly there was an explosion.

Pain pierced Patrick’s side as he was blown off his feet. Air whooshed around him. His head thudded on the hard ground, a few rocks digging into his back through his body armor. He heard the shouts of his men. Gunfire. Rebecca’s face flashed through his mind. And then as his head bounced off the hard earth a second time, everything went black.

 

***

 

Rebecca yawned, feeling drowsiness wash over her. The adrenaline of the past few hours had kept her awake at Alison’s side, but now that she was alone in the quiet darkness of her car, she was ready to crawl into bed and fall fast asleep.

Maybe not ever wake up until Patrick came home and pulled her into his strong arms.

She pulled out of the parking garage and onto the deserted road, ready to head a few miles to Patrick’s house near Little Creek. She’d spent hours at the hospital as the doctors had tried to get Alison’s contractions under control. Fortunately, the medicine in the IV drip seemed to finally be working. As the contractions had slowed and eventually stopped, Alison had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

And Rebecca had quietly snuck out, telling the night-shift nurses to call her immediately if anything changed.

It had been a long day and even longer nerve-wracking night, and Rebecca was eager to crawl into bed. She’d sleep better after checking on Abby and Logan, despite knowing they were in good hands with Patrick’s sister. And at the moment, snuggling up under Patrick’s sheets, inhaling his clean, masculine scent, sounded like the next best thing to having him beside her.

She slowed to a stop as the light changed red, her eyes scanning the empty intersection. It was kind of eerie to be driving alone this late at night. Her finger slid to the automatic lock, checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten to lock the car doors.

Seconds ticked by, and she yawned again, watching the desolate streets around her. Everything looked scarier at night, but she was just being silly, she admonished herself. She was exhausted and letting her imagination get the better of her.

Everything was perfectly fine.

Finally, the light changed to green, reflecting off the inky black asphalt.

She pulled forward and drove through the intersection, jumping in her seat as her phone suddenly vibrated from inside her purse.

Had something happened with Alison and the baby?

The number flashing on the screen was one she didn’t recognize, and a feeling of dread washed over her.

“Hello?”

“Rebecca? It’s Captain Ryan Mitchell.”

Rebecca swerved, her hands fumbling with the phone and steering wheel as her chest seized in fear, and she quickly pulled to the side of the road. She automatically put her car in park, trying to remember how to breathe.

A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. There was no reason for Ryan to call her in the dead of night unless it were a dire emergency. Her heart felt like it was about to pound out of her chest it was beating so hard, and she could barely muster a few incomprehensible words.

“What?” she asked again, her ears ringing.

“Are you driving? I’m at the hospital looking for you. You need to pull over.”

“I did. I just pulled over.”

“There’s been an accident,” he said bluntly.

She gasped, her vision beginning to tunnel. Cool air blew from the vents on her car. The radio played dimly in the background. The rest of the world kept on turning. But just like that, in a flash, her life would never be the same.

She gotten a similar call when her husband had been killed years ago.

An accident.

A middle-of-the-night phone call.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as she took in a gasping breath.

“What?” she whispered, realizing that Ryan was still talking.

“Patrick was injured and is being medevac’d to a hospital in Landstuhl. I was trying to catch you in person but figured I’d better call because I need to get back to base.”

“What happened? Will he be okay?”

“I don’t have the details yet. I just received word about the injury. I went over to Patrick’s house, assuming you were there with the kids.”

“No, Sarah is watching them.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Yes, I spoke with her while I was there. I’m at the hospital Alison is staying at, but the nurses told me you’d already left.”

“Oh my God,” Rebecca whispered, fresh tears beginning to fall.

“Rebecca, we don’t know anything else yet. We don’t know anything about his status or condition other than that he’s alive. Go home and wait there with Sarah. I’ll try to find out more and update you as soon as I can.”

“Oh my God,” she said again. “This can’t be happening. It can’t. He promised me that he’d be okay. He promised he’d be okay!”

“Rebecca. Hell, I shouldn’t have told you this over the phone,” he muttered. “Do you need me to come get you? I’ll drive you to Patrick’s house then head back into base. You can wait there with Sarah.”

“No,” she said absently. “No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

She gulped, swallowing back a fresh wave of tears. “I need to get home to the kids. And you need to get back to find out about Patrick. Just promise me you’ll call me as soon as you know anything—no matter what the time, day or night.”

“I give you my word. I’m sorry, Rebecca. This is the worst type of news to get, but he’s holding on. He’s fighting. Patrick is one of the strongest men I know. There’s no way he’s giving up without a fight. And the doctors in Landstuhl are the best.”

She took a shaky breath and exhaled, steeling herself to drive home.

“Right. You’re right. He’s going to be fine.”

“I’ll contact you as soon as I know anything else.”

The phone went dead as she stared out her windshield into the darkness. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. Patrick had been fine when he left—walking out the door in his combat boots and fatigues like he was ready to take over the world.

To think of him hurt and lying alone in a hospital bed?

She shuddered.

“He has to be all right,” she whispered.