The SEAL's Promise

by Grace Alexander

  Nausea punched her again. No, food wasn't the best idea. She'd just throw it up, preferably all over Joseph.

  She swallowed against the queasy ripples. Water might be a prudent plan.

  With the concentration required for brain surgery, Tessa placed one foot in front of the other, hobbling as close to Joseph's path as her stupor-slicked mind could manage. She stumbled through the egress into a gang of mercenaries, all who looked like they ate rusted nails for Sunday brunch and bent steel for fun.

  Her awful cartel-gifted sundress, splattered in blood and dirt, stood out as strangely feminine in the sea of muscles, guns, and testosterone. Tessa fingered the scab from Valencia on her neck. She apparently presented a shocking image. The room hushed soon as they caught a glimpse of her.

  A blond in a cowboy hat tossed her a package that crinkled before it went airborne. Somehow she caught it, unaware of what it was, and her arm hurt fiercely from the motion. All eyes locked on her, then hers pinned on Joseph's.

  "Wet wipes," Blondie said. "Think of it as a shoddy sponge bath. Use however many you need."

  She pivoted and looked at him. His face was painted in greens, grays, and blacks, smudged and sweaty. Brilliant blue eyes beneath it all. Somewhat human compared to the others.

  Tessa cleared her throat. Her gaze stole back to Joseph. The sinewy muscles in his jaw flexed, and he took a step toward her but didn't open his mouth. Her chest felt tight; anxious energy flooded her fingers.

  She had many things to say and order him to do. But her mind couldn't string them together. Threats loomed close to her tongue, but unable to complete menial oratory tasks, she rushed at him. Tessa balled her fists and slammed into him like a battering ram.

  The impact was like she ran fist first into the side of a mountain. Sheer physics would have bounced her off if he didn't grab her arms. But, other than his hands cuffed on her biceps, Joseph didn't acknowledge her tirade.

  What kind of men did McKay have as teammates? Anger pulsed in her temples. Her molars hurt from gritting her teeth. She pulled from Joseph, struggling and vibrating with rage. He loomed impenetrably. The man didn't flinch or react. He didn't even offer a single expression.

  "What's your plan?" Finally, her vocabulary returned.

  The steadfast boredom on his face stoked the embers of her irritation further. Red-hot anger choked her. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating, surrounded by these insufferable men.

  "Calm down, Tessa." His words were condescending. Patriarchal.

  She'd calm down just to tell him to fat chance.

  "Shove it." In her mind, it came out like words launched from a flamethrower. In reality, she wheezed. But wheezed loud. That was something.

  Again, no reaction from a void-faced Joseph, but Blondie laughed so deep the crappy shack quaked. With focus like a laser beam, she drilled into him.

  "Laughter?" She arched her brows and shook her head. "You think this is funny? Why don't you take your face painted butt and get a move on, Cowboy, and go help Drake."

  Blondie-the-Cowboy doubled over in near-hysterical cackles. If she had the strength, she'd have stalked over and kicked him.

  "This explains so much." He leaned up enough to extend his dirty hand. "Tessa, I'm Cason."

  She cut him off. "I don't care who you are."

  Were those tears in his eyes? What was so funny? She'd knock sense into them after they helped Drake.

  Cason slapped his leg. "I know you don't." He was laughing so hard he had tears. Now, it was his turn to gasp for breath.

  "You're ridiculous," Tessa snapped.

  Joseph and two others watched her watch Cason the Cowboy. Blondie. Whatever his name was, the jerk. They were all jerks. Ugh, this was frustrating.

  "We're going after your boy," Cason said as he sobered. "But we don't want to get killed doing it. Give us a minute to strategize. There are a whole lot more hombres with automatic weapons set to rapid fire rock-n-roll than we'd planned to tangle with."

  Silence ticked by, one second after the next. The sweltering Colombian heat made the air heavy. All their eyes bore down on her.

  She crossed her arms, trying to make sense of everything. "What did you mean by this explains everything."

  He grinned again. "Yup. It certainly does."

  She pointed her finger at him. "Don't mess with me, Cowboy."

  He laughed. "There you go again. The only woman who McKay could ever fall for would be one who tries to push around the team, giving them pet names like 'Cowboy'."

  "McKay," she drew out the name until she had everyone's attention, "hasn't fallen for anyone." She gave each man a hard look. "I appreciate what he's done for me. It's as simple as that."

  Cason shook his head. "Yeah, we've heard that one before, darling."

  "I'm not your darling, Cowboy."

  Cason failed to hide his laugh. "I'd say you have him wrapped around your pinky finger." He held out his hand and swung it side to side, whispering, "Hang on, McKay. Hang on."

  "Give me a break." She narrowed her eyes on Joseph who still hadn't given her a reaction to make sense of. "Do you have anything to say here?"

  Joseph cleared his throat. "There's nothing to say."

  Tessa rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

  "But," he continued. "We need your help."

  She perked up. "What can I do?"

  "Recount everything, everyone you crossed paths with. Give us even the most irrelevant detail. Anything that you can recall."

  "Give her a minute to clean up," Cason said.

  Joseph shook his head. "No. She's smart enough to do more than one thing at a time." He grabbed a bottle of something red. "Hydrate and start talking."

  Wasn't he the Prince of Manners? Then she thought of Mateo and his irrational decorum. She'd take Joseph any day, and twice on rescue day.

  Tessa took the bottle and eyed it. Gatorade? Powerade? Something sugary to replenish electrolytes, no doubt.

  "Drink," Joseph demanded.

  "Bossy." But she took a big sip and coughed. It was syrupy-sweet but fizzy. The warm temperature did nothing to make it more palatable.

  "Bug juice." Cason laughed.

  Her nose wrinkled. "You laugh a lot."

  His eyebrow crooked as Tessa mentally corrected herself. No, he didn't laugh a lot. He laughed at her a lot. Either way, she saw Joseph waiting for her to finish and gagged down as much as she could. "This is disgusting."

  "That'll keep you alive, hon. Just the way McKay requested."

  Tessa opened the package of wet towels, started on her face, and systematically moved down to her feet. She dug at the grime under her fingernails and ended with a mound of towelettes on the dirt floor.

  Joseph peppered her with question after question after question. None made sense, but then again, she wasn't used to planning an offensive attack. She couldn't wait to do whatever came next. Shoot, she couldn't wait to finish this bottle of bug juice. She took another huge gulp and shook in disgust, not wanting to know what was in bug juice. But if she finished it, maybe she'd earn a bottle of water or a protein bar or anything edible.

  Last sip down, and Tessa crushed the plastic bottle and held it up. Proof positive she finished the awful thing. "Can I get something else now?"

  Joseph nodded.

  Cason opened a bag. "We've got beef-flavored stew, beef-flavored bbq, beef—"

  "Don't offer her what you don't like." A man she didn't know rolled his eyes.

  "Is it actually beef?" she asked.

  Cason ignored her question but relented to the other man. "All right, fine." When he wasn't laughing, he seemed ready to tear something apart. "Tessa, spaghetti with sauce, cheese tortellini—"

  "What are you talking about?" She crossed her arms; positive they were making fun of her.

  "MREs, babe. Bag o' nasty. Meals rejected by—"

  "She gets the point, Cason," Joseph said. "Give her something that'll taste okay and move on."

  She noted he didn't say tasted go
od.

  "Spaghetti it is." Cason threw a pouch at her.

  Every camo-clad, weapons-strapped man watched as she caught it and ripped the package open. The contents looked like spaghetti and sauce, but they smelled like plastic. It didn't matter. She was starving. They didn't offer a fork, and she didn't expect it. The taste was as appealing as the fuzzy, warm bug juice.

  She looked up. There may have been a crumb of approval in Joseph's grumbling face.

  He blinked it away before she could confirm, then he spoke up. "So, this is the team. You already met Cason, sniper and all-around funny guy. You can also thank him for blowing Valencia's brains all over you. Raid's our wheels guy. Barrett, you can thank for not eating beef tonight. He blows stuff up and says there's an art to it. And you talked to Talon on the phone. Tech guy extraordinaire."

  "And you?"

  "Me?"

  "Yeah. If everyone has a specialty, what's yours?"

  "I'm a master at everything."

  Of course. She glared at him. "What about Drake?"

  "McKay?"

  "Yeah, that's his name. What's his specialty?"

  "Escape and evade. Blow stuff up. McKay's a survivor and will stay alive when most men beg for death."

  "What is it with you, guys? He's not invincible." She rolled her eyes but was secretly praying Joseph was right.

  "Give him credit. With a handful of help from us, he'll be home playing house with you soon enough. Unless…" He shrugged.

  Her breath caught in her throat as if the stale, hot air were vacuumed out of the shack. His pure indifference made her head spin. She'd wring his neck. No matter if he was master of everything.

  "Easy there, Tessa." Joseph's lips twitched. "I mean unless he shows up before we bug out."

  "What?"

  "It wouldn't surprise me if McKay dragged his busted self through this door."

  "Oh." Tessa's cheeks flashed hot.

  "So, if you're done with dinner, let's get down to business. Valencia's gone. Our intel says that Bruno Hernández, his number two, would take over. Seen him? Heard of him?"

  "Yeah. I was his if Drake didn't turn over the list." The memory caused a cold sweat in the jungle heat. She pinched her eyes shut to fight off the revolting reaction her body produced when thinking of Bruno.

  The men fidgeted, obviously unaware of how much she knew of her almost-fate.

  "So, you met him?" Joseph asked. "He's on the grounds?"

  She nodded. "He's there."

  "And is he a leader? Or is he a fall guy?"

  "Not much of a leader. Nothing I'd think a cartel number two should be." Tessa wrung her hands together. "Not that I know much about it, I guess."

  "Give us something. You're a psychologist. What can you tell us?"

  Deep breath in, out. She blocked her repulsion and analyzed her memories. "Where Mateo was a narcissist, Bruno was a need-driven fiend. His interest lies in what they called their product, and Mateo kept him in line with promises of…well, of me." She took a deep breath. "He may have the brawn to keep men in line but not the brains. And he knows it, too. Strategy won't be his thing. But torture? That's his modus operandi."

  "Good job, Tessa. That's great."

  "Why would that be a good thing?" Tessa scrunched her forehead.

  "Because McKay can handle a little torture, and he's smart as they come."

  "But he's hurt bad. He told me so."

  "He'll do what it takes to make himself ready for our arrival. He knows the drill." Joseph turned toward the table and their drawings. "All right. So they have a leader. They have plenty of men. We need another blitz attack to create a diversion. We figure out where our boy is, grab him, and hightail it on home."

  Tessa cleared her throat. "They kept me in a room that looked like it was for…captives. Top of the stairs and down a long hallway, locked from the outside. No windows."

  "Smart girl. So we get into that room. Barrett, I need diversionary explosions here, here, and here." Joseph pointed to the schematics on the table. "A fiery blockade near this section, where his men congregate."

  "Roger that." Barrett narrowed his review on the map.

  "Cason, position here," Joseph said. "I want you to cover me on the way in, pick off anyone you see in the house and provide cover on our way out."

  Cason gave a chin lift. His cowboy hat rode low over his shaggy hair, piercing eyes, and camo-painted face.

  "I want wheels here, Raid. Double-check that armored Rover. I gave it quite a beating when Tessa and I hauled out of there."

  Raid cracked his neck right, then left. "Ain't nothing gonna take that Rover down. But I'll give it a once-over."

  "Barrett, you'll go in with me. Raid, you follow behind."

  "What about me?" She hated interrupting him, but he edged her out of their discussion.

  Joseph didn't skip a beat. "What about you?"

  "What will I do?"

  "You'll sit your behind on this chair." He tapped the back of a ratty chair. "And wait for us to come back with your boy."

  "I don't think so." She puffed out her chest and straightened her shoulders — anything to make Joseph change his mind.

  He coughed a sarcastic laugh. "I'm not giving you an option here, Tessa. This isn't a game, and you'll do as you're told."

  "I didn't say it was a game." She took a step forward. "I'm just supposed to sit here and wait?"

  "No two ways about it. You'll stay put. The rest of you, let's go." He motioned toward the door.

  "I could—"

  "You can't."

  Tessa slapped her hands onto her hips. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

  "Honestly, I don't care. We don't have time to debate this."

  "Aren't you bossy," she muttered.

  He cracked the tiniest smile. She saw it, but it faded faster than his shutdowns. "Call me all the names you want. But if you went back out there and got hurt, McKay would have my hide."

  "Yeah, you're so scared of him. I see that."

  "You don't get it, honey." Joseph crossed his arms. "He's not here, which means it's our job to make sure you're safe. We watch out for our own. Today, that means you don't move. He'd have every right to take a cheap shot at me if a single hair on your head gets hurt under my watch."

  "You're still bossy."

  "And you're a subordinate. Sit your sassy self down."

  Sassy? Joseph speaking in anything other than black and white seemed a deviation. Tessa rolled her eyes but didn't respond. Cason ambled by her and winked. At least she had a friend in him. Joseph was a jerk. And who knew about the others.

  They filed out the shack door. Joseph turned to her before leaving. "Sit down. Don't move. Don't leave. You may hydrate. That's all."

  She hated him. Frustrated tears burned her raw eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. She hated losing control. Hated her emotions when they ran rampant. But none of that mattered as she sat alone.

  Insects buzzed throughout the shack. Tessa ignored the rickety chairs and packed dirt floor. In the corner of the room was a makeshift bed. Really, just a thatched mat.

  Exhaustion clawed in the silence. It overpowered the nerves that tormented her stomach. The bed called to her with burden-easing promises.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  McKay blinked against the vibrations of an attack. The bursts and pops sounded dull in his cinder block cage, yet they were a strong reminder that Safehouse was close, Tessa was safe. Somewhere, somehow, they had secured her. They wouldn't stage an assault if she weren't.

  Sweet, sweet, Tessa.

  Or instead, poor, sweet, Tessa.

  He blew a hard sigh, strong enough to empty his desperate lungs. What had he brought into her life? Nothing but danger, trauma, and brutality. He was to blame for every perilous misstep she'd had since the kidnapping at the airport.

  He should have left her alone on day one. Smoky-eyed and tear-gassed. She was a smart girl. She could have talked her way out of that motel room when Lexington's fin
est arrived, lights gyrating.

  Any cop, assuming they were red-blooded and male, would have tripped over themselves to take her statement and offer her comfort. All McKay did was throw her in the backseat of his truck.

  What kind of person was he? The kind who selfishly exposed her to the underbelly of a world she shouldn't know existed.

  His life was too dangerous. His judgment was inherently disjointed when it came to her. Anna, he could protect, but Tessa? She was different. She had a life, a job. Maybe even a mortgage. Everything was fine before he came along. And now? Very much not fine.

  She was rat-holed in a jungle safehouse. A deep ache, worse than the field mended gunshot holes, festered in his stomach.

  Dread. Terrible, gut-wrenching dread. He squeezed his eyes shut. The realization was a knockout punch to the temple. He needed to protect her from evil and violence. And from him.

  He'd have to walk away.

  His mind double-timed. A shrapnel-snarled explosion ripped his heart to pieces. He didn't deserve a woman who sacrificed herself for his daughter. He sure couldn't handle the responsibility of risking her life again. If he ever lost her, it would be the hardest battle he'd fight.

  Nothing good ever came easy. Or something like that. He'd be miserable, but that wasn't the point. She'd be safe.

  McKay pushed onto his elbows, ignoring his fatigued muscles. His head spun. The blasts were closer. He needed to put on his cartel-surviving game face if he was going to hobble out of this prison.

  He rubbed his eyes and ran his bloodied hands through his gritty hair. He needed a few vacation days after this mess subsided.

  A booming shout bled through the solid door. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, back up."

  Had he ever been so happy to hear angry Joseph? The deadbolt exploded. A thump of a boot later, and the door flung open.

  "About time you showed up."

  Joseph huffed. "You're more trouble than you're worth. I swear."

  "Tessa's safe?"

  "Safe and sound, and a pain in my rear end."

  He smiled. Tessa had busted Joseph up one side and down the other. He'd pay to see that entertainment.