The SEAL's Promise

by Grace Alexander

  "Ready to get back to your girl?"

  His girl. Not anymore. He couldn't let this happen again. "I'm ready to bug out of here. That's for sure."

  The boss his injuries. "Can you move?"

  "Give me a break. I can move fine." Maybe.

  "Right." Joseph pulled a subcompact weapon from his ankle holster and handed it to him. With a smooth inspection of the magazine clip, McKay reinserted it, then nodded.

  Joseph clasped his bicep, gave him an arm up, then they exited out the door. Each step behind Joseph torpedoed pain. McKay's arm burned, leg throbbed, and everything in between ached. He gritted his teeth and kept pace. They blew towards the front door.

  "We're coming out. Ready for cover," Joseph said into his mic, then turned to him. "We got most of 'em. New Jefe weaseled out. The money, the guns, all gone. The safe room is empty."

  Joseph pressed his earpiece, listened, and nodded for McKay to follow. They made their way into the darkening night. Fresh air and open heavens gave him the push he needed to keep stride with his debilitating limp.

  They reached the gate, rounded the corner, and moved fast to an idling Range Rover. Barrett popped up behind them, running backward and firing cover. Ahead, Raid ascended from a defensive position, weapon pointed forward until he slid over the front hood, then he jumped in the driver's seat.

  With everyone piled in, Raid sent dirt flying when he slapped the shifter into drive, jumbling hard down a makeshift road.

  McKay was breathing way too fast. Pain was a nasty mistress, messing him up in ways he couldn't have imagined. He tried to compartmentalize it and block it out.

  Then his stomach bottomed out. "Where's Cason?"

  If Cason got hurt hauling him out, he'd be angry. Angry at Cason for doing something stupid. Angry at himself for a million different reasons he didn't have time to list. Angry at everyone.

  "Relax, lover boy. Sniper's out doing his sniper thing. We didn't have eyes on any cartel leadership, so he's doing some recon to confirm."

  "Stop it with the lover boy." McKay cleared his throat. "Got any water in this rig?"

  "Touchy. Touchy." Raid laughed from the driver's seat, not necessarily looking out the windshield.

  "I was wrong to pull her into this. The last thing that lady needs is me in her life."

  Joseph turned from the front passenger seat. "That lady? You realize we just traveled halfway around the globe for that lady. Your lady."

  Barrett reached behind them and grabbed McKay a bottle of water and the first aid kit. He took a big swig of the water. "I need some penicillin."

  Joseph rolled his eyes. "Cry me a Colombian river."

  "On it." Barrett pulled the vial and a syringe from the kit. "What do you want for pain?"

  "I don't care. Something over-the-counter. Nothing narcotic. I need to be clear-headed."

  "Coming right up. Tylenol for the tough guy. Or is it Motrin for the moron?" Barrett dug through the kit, laughing at his joke. "The warrior games are over. Feel free to stone it up."

  "Nah. I need to think," McKay mumbled to himself but realized everyone heard him. Silence hung thick and heavy as Raid bounced them through the rainforest. Bushes slapped, underbrush dragged. The Range Rover revved, piercing the white noise.

  So this was self-doubt. Or was it self-pity? Either way, perfect timing.

  Joseph turned again and trained his eyes on McKay.

  "I'll say this once, so it'd be in your best interest to smarten up and listen. That's your girl. Not some random stranger. No one you need to be clear-headed around. I don't particularly like telling pretty girls to shut up and sit down, but I had to because she wanted in on this little rescue op. I don't know the first thing about love or anything mushy like that. But I know Tessa's your girl. So find your courage and handle this." He glared at McKay. "Now I feel like Oprah."

  "You sound like her," McKay muttered.

  Joseph snorted. "And, oh yeah, you're welcome."

  The muscles in McKay's face contracted against his will. He flexed his fists in his lap, trying to control gurgles of sanity-busting rage and emotion.

  Your girl. He called Tessa your girl. What was wrong with him? It didn't matter. She was just too precious for a man like him.

  ###

  Tight pain seized Tessa's wrist. Her eyes shot open, terrified. The scratchy mat, the rickety shack. Everything came into focus, including Bruno's twisted smile and the trails of sweat pouring down his temples. It was a sick vision.

  She bicycled her legs, trying to scamper away. Escape was futile.

  "You are awake." His breath stank of rancid milk and rotted flesh.

  "Help!" She pulled and kicked. "Help me!"

  "They left you. All alone, without so much as a weapon to guard yourself with. Tsk, tsk. Not smart on their part."

  She didn't even know he could speak English. Now, he taunted her.

  "Please don't—"

  He yanked her arm hard enough to make her shoulder joint pop out of place. Tears of pain, desperation, and exhaustion rolled free.

  Bruno shook her again. "Wretched woman. Shut up."

  "Help—"

  "You were promised to me."

  Tessa's lips trembled. Her heart screamed into her throat. Bile surfaced in the back of her throat.

  "I am in command. I am in control. And I will take my reward," Bruno shouted, almost releasing her to beat his chest.

  Thick fingers toyed with her sundress strap and snapped it, forcing it loose. His gnarled tongue licked his chewed lips, and he pulled her close to his face. She shut her eyes tight, pushing hard away from him.

  "No. Don't do this." He was going to attack her in a jungle shack. Her life was over. She didn't even wipe the cascading tears. The fear, the terror boiling in her mind and gut overpowered planning an escape.

  Bruno cackled. "Tears are my favorite part."

  She whimpered.

  Bruno released her wrist. Tessa fell onto the scratchy bed mat, then rolled away. She slammed against the wall. The shack swayed as if breathing in and out, trying to decide if it should remain upright. His gaze raked over her, sending ice-cold shivers in the humid heat down her spine. He scraped the wooden chair on the dirt floor, leaving a trail in the dust. The devil flashed across his face.

  "Sit here. Now."

  She shook her head. Her fists gripped the mat as she braced for his wrath. Blood thumped in her ears, drowning out his grotesque breaths. Her pulse pounded faster and faster, making her head dizzy.

  His calloused hand wrapped around her neck, and in one swift move, she was in the chair. The force toppled it onto the back two legs before it slammed back to earth. He yanked her one arm, then the other behind the chair, tying them secure. Too tight. It stung before both hands went numb. Pins and needles crawled up her forearms.

  Bruno radiated heat. "I was mistaken. I thought you might have more fight than this sniveling." He stepped in front of her but remained out of her toe's reach.

  She still tried to kick him away. Her tears stopped. Anger and hatred rushed in their place. He wanted a fight? She'd fight. She'd stay alive until Drake and Safehouse returned to kick his butt for her.

  She gritted her teeth against her disgust, drew back, and spit into his face.

  He slapped her face.

  Stars exploded. Her vision went white, then black. Her head bobbed, searching for equilibrium. Then she found it. "You'll pay for that."

  He rubbed his hands together. "You do have a fight."

  "Untie my hands! I'll show you." She jutted her chin up.

  A wicked smile curled his lips. "Let the fun begin."

  He pulled the knife from its holster, tossing it from one hand to the next, dancing it between his fingers. As if he couldn't contain his excitement, Bruno flashed behind her, cutting the blade into the bindings. The ties fell to the dirt floor, and her tense arms dangled numb and asleep. Completely useless.

  "You promised a fight. Do you want to run?" He laughed.

  T
he cold metal blade pressed against the back of her neck, its tip scratching her skin. She was sick of men with knives on her neck. Sick of the memories. The General. The Cartel leader. And now this fiend. Sick of it all.

  "You're in charge now? You are El Jefe?" she asked. "You make the deals?"

  "You try to distract me? To patronize me?"

  "No." She was trying to buy time.

  "Liar. You spit in my face. Promise a delightful fight. And now talk business." He yanked her hair and stepped in front of her. "Run, woman. Try me."

  Tessa faked like she would swing a punch but drew her knee into his crotch. Finally. Caught off guard, he hunched over, covering himself with his hands. This was her moment to run.

  Her feet pounded the dirt before her mind realized she was pushing through the underbrush. Leaves were thick, and she ran blindly as branches and brush smacked over her body.

  The air smelled fragrant and felt thick as she sucked it in. Clueless as to where to go and how to get there, she pushed through aching muscles and scattered thoughts.

  Bruno's angry voice bled through the vegetation, intermixing with the birds and insects, threatening and promising her worst nightmares.

  Everywhere, each direction, Tessa saw a maze of brilliant green branches and bright flowers. Her breaths and gasps burned. The sundress clung to her sweat-soaked skin. Thinking her lungs couldn't manage another breath, Tessa pressed up against a thick tree and slumped down onto bended knees.

  Her heart pounded loud enough that she wouldn't have been surprised if Bruno pinpointed her exact location. Sweat dripped into her eyes. It burned on her skin. She ignored it and clung to her inner strength. She would do whatever it took to stay alive long enough to watch Drake slice his throat.

  Nature surrounded her, deafening her. A loud bird screeched overhead. Prickled awareness hit, and her scream fought to escape, but a hand slapped her face.

  No.

  Another hard hand clamped her shoulder. Fear erupted inside her. She lashed out, clawing, biting, and kicking. She bucked, and she prayed. She wouldn't go down this way. Not after everything she'd survived.

  But she hit the ground anyway. Hard, face first, with inflexible hands holding her down, perhaps in her own grave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Rover slid to a stop in front of the shack. All the men fell out, except McKay. He stretched one leg, then the next. Raw agony weighed heavy on every level. Mental. Physical. Emotional.

  Barrett turned around. "You need a hand?"

  "Nah. Just give me a second."

  Luck had kept him alive to this point. Hopefully, penicillin would do the rest and keep his busted body free of a nasty infection. But his molasses-like moves had everything to do with his wounded heart and not his GSW hatchet job.

  Tessa was feet away. The only thing he wanted to do was gather her tight in his arms and kiss her beautiful face. He wanted to worship her brilliance and strength. He wanted to thank her, relish her, and care for her.

  But no matter what he wanted, he knew better. She was innocent. A perfect woman meant to make a normal man happy. The kind of man who came home every day for dinner, who pushed paper and typed on a computer. She deserved a partner with a safe, nine-to-five job who worried over normal, everyday problems.

  McKay's problems weren't in the same hemisphere as normal. His daughter was born from a sex trafficking ring. He'd fallen for a woman he'd abducted. Regular dinnertime didn't exist in his world. What woman would even want him?

  Not a smart one. And Tessa Thompson was the smartest woman he'd ever met.

  He goraned and decided that he'd take gunshot wounds any day over walking away from Tessa. The closer they came to the shack, the more he hated himself for getting close to her.

  He was the last to enter the shack. He took in the small space and his brothers-in-arms. Joseph, Barrett, and Raid. Faces pinched and etched with concern.

  "Where is she?" McKay looked around the bare room. He kicked the dirt floor. "Where is she?"

  No answers. Joseph bent over and picked up a plastic handcuff, smacking it against his palm.

  McKay stalked to a lone chair and threw it against the shambled wall. His arms roared. His wounds throbbed. The chair took out a few of the rotted wood wall slats. It splintered and scattered on the dirt floor like kindling.

  "Calm it down, McKay." Joseph didn't sound like he was listening to his own advice.

  McKay didn't plan to either. His fists balled tight. This was why he should have stayed away from her. How many times had the poor woman been attacked since he stepped into her life?

  "We're going after her. Now," McKay said with a level of anger he didn't know existed.

  "Go where? We need a plan."

  "I'm sick of your slow plans." He stormed toward the door.

  "You stop right there. What are you going to do? Canvass the entire jungle?"

  "There's that strategy to consider."

  "You've got straw for brains where this chick is concerned. Barrett, if McKay rolls out of here, you grab him and nail his butt to a chair."

  Barrett glared at Joseph. "Yeah, thanks, man. That'll be like catching Niagara Falls with a fly net."

  ###

  The hand over Tessa's mouth tightened and her heart raced. Adrenaline fueled her. She snapped her teeth open and shut like a crazed piranha, hoping to bite flesh and gain her release. Her elbow arched back and slammed into a brick wall of solid muscle. Her attacker wasn't fazed.

  No. No. No. She refused. This wouldn't happen.

  Summoning power, fortitude, and brawn, Tessa bellowed in exertion, pushed off her hands and knees, and slammed the back of her skull into his face. His teeth tore into her scalp, but his hands didn't let go.

  "Quiet."

  That tiniest whoosh of a word danced in her ear. It was in English without an accent.

  "Tessa. Stop. It's Cason."

  She opened her eyes, seeing all the dark around her. Her nostrils flared open, closed, open, closed, as she fought for breath and to understand what was happening.

  Cason. Safehouse.

  "I'll move my hand," he whispered. "But you can't make a noise. Got it?"

  She nodded as though her life depended on it. She had to tell him she was being hunted. His tight grip relaxed, but she was still pinned. Cason rolled next to her, dressed in a pile of leaves. His face paint blurred into his costume.

  She mouthed to him. Bruno. She pointed ahead. No, wait. To the right. No! Where was he?

  Cason cupped her hand. "I got this. Stay put. I'll come back for you."

  "Don't leave me. Please."

  He scanned the area, then moved to her ear. "You stick close. I'll scout him out; then he's done. You okay with that?"

  Tessa's lip pursed into a tight line, but the tears spilled over. His eyebrows bit together, and maybe he was more scared of her crying than finding Bruno. Whatever the reason, she was glad to stay near him. "Thank you."

  He lifted onto his elbows, tucked a rifle into place, and drew his legs beneath him, motioning for her to do the same, minus the gun. "Ready?"

  Tessa nodded, but she was suction-cupped to the wet ground.

  "Look at me, Tessa."

  Tessa stared straight ahead in the dark, then at him. His face was a shade above invisible. This should be easier. All she had to do was follow Cason. Then Bruno would die, and she could run back to Drake as fast as her legs would take her. But her body ignored her excellent plan.

  "Tessa, honey." He redirected her attention with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her chin toward him. "Focus on me. We've got a good man to get you back to. McKay should have my head because I haven't gotten rid of that guy yet. Put all your fear into a box. We've got places to go."

  "A reporter asked a sniper what he felt after he shot someone." Now wasn't the time for nervous chatter. She was losing her mind. But it was the only thing she could think of in this moment.

  He laughed quietly as the jungle wind. "And the sniper said recoil
."

  "You know that one too," she whispered.

  Cason nodded. "And, darling, you won't even feel that. Ready?"

  A smile crossed her face. "Yes."

  "Well, alrighty. Get up and on my six." He dropped his hand from her chin and readied his rifle.

  He slinked forward, looking more like foliage than a man. She was inches away, scared if he got too far ahead of her, he'd melt into the night. He paused. She held her breath. Nothing sounded. No birds. No insects. No scary night animals. The last of daylight abandoned them, and they were surrounded by the blackest of blacks.

  He pivoted quickly. She had no idea why. Her ears burned to hear something, anything. His silent steps crept forward as though following a well-laid trail. She sounded like a freight train pushing through a rail yard.

  What looked like a leaf-covered branch motioned her down. She dropped to all fours and flattened on the still-warm earth. Wet leaves pressed against her cheek. An insect crawled across her skin. She suppressed the urge to react and prayed for resilience.

  A soft flick sounded, followed by a click. Tessa couldn't hear Cason breathe. Couldn't see the leaves move. Time passed as she recited grade school limericks over and over, pretending she was anywhere else.

  The world around went brilliant for a spark of a second. A muffled pop punched the night. Cason didn't move. Neither did she. The night stilled after the momentary burst of artillery lighting.

  Another soft click. He rolled onto his back and sat up. "You all right?"

  "He's dead?" Her ears pounded with racing blood.

  "Yeah."

  She strained to hear any other dangers. "You sure?"

  "Did you question my incredible skills?" He snorted a laugh.

  "Sorry, Cason. Didn't mean to offend you."

  "I'm just playing. Of course, he's dead. And I don't see any other guys out there. Including our boys. They will pay when I find them."

  "We're way out in the jungle. How would they know which way to go?"

  "You weren't that hard to track, honey."

  "Do you think there's a problem with Drake?"

  "No way. I think they figured they'd had a long day, and I'd take care of this. Bet you they've wrangled dinner and are waiting for us to mosey on back."