Protecting Stella (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  Protecting Stella (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

  A GUARDIANS series crossover Novella

  Victoria Paige

  Contents

  Foreword

  About this Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Connect with the Author

  Also by Victoria Paige

  Acknowledgments

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Edited by: edit LLC

  Content Editor: Edit Sober

  Proofreader: A Book Nerd Edits

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Special Forces: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  About this Book

  For police officer Stella Hunt, a routine patrol ends when a roadside encounter brings her face to face with a dangerous stranger. Shots are fired and, in the ensuing bloody mess, she's catapulted into a world of conspiracy and hate.

  Former Navy SEAL Jake Banning is having a bad day. A covert op gone sideways means the only way to live another day is to abduct a cop. What he hadn't counted on was his heart getting hijacked by the fiery officer with mesmerizing blue eyes.

  Captor.

  Savior.

  Lines are crossed and emotions become blurred.

  Jake's actions put a target on Stella's back.

  And when the price of freedom becomes too high, she must decide whether to leave or stay.

  As for Jake, the mission was everything before Stella.

  Now salvaging the op is secondary to protecting her at all costs.

  1

  Stella Hunt strapped on her holster, getting ready to go on patrol for her double shift. Having graduated from the Academy within the past year, she didn’t have enough seniority to choose her off days, and she was fine with that. She’d patrolled with a partner during the peak summer season on the boardwalk. Now that it was February, her solo outings on the night shift had been peaceful. Her current rotation was in Pungo—a rural community with vast stretches of farmland in the southern section of Virginia Beach.

  Checking herself a second time in the mirror, she patted her severe bun, making sure it was snug enough so it wouldn’t unravel under her service cap.

  Voices filtered from the dining room and the buttery aroma of the chicken pot pie Gram was heating reached her nose. Stella regretted she couldn’t stay for dinner. At other times her grandmother would have accommodated her evening shift, but they had guests. At least Stella would get to say hello.

  She exited the bedroom, touching her hair again.

  In the kitchen, sitting around the center island, were their friends Matthew “Wolf” Steel and his wife Caroline. Wolf was a Navy SEAL and had worked with her brother Sam and was like an older sibling to Stella. Caroline was his sweet and pretty wife—a brilliant chemist like Gram.

  Stella was a geek herself and had followed in the footsteps of her grandmother, Pearl, until a tragedy hit them, and she quit college to become a police officer. A huge source of contention between Stella and her gram, she felt it every time her gram’s eyes turned cold at the sight of her in uniform.

  “There she is.” Wolf’s eyes lit up as he got up from the stool and met Stella halfway, giving her a bear hug, and then he stood back to give her a once-over. “You look kickass in blue, Stella. Sam would’ve been proud.”

  It was the first time she’d seen him since the funeral. Her eyes blurred as she blinked back unbidden tears. “Thanks.”

  Caroline came over and gave her a hug. “Wolf’s right. Sam always said you were a little firecracker.”

  Stella’s height was five feet flat. And with Sam well over six feet, he and Wolf used to tease her about being the runt of the litter.

  “All right. You two need to stop.” Stella wiped the tear that fell and gave a brief laugh. “I’m about to go on patrol and I can’t do that if I’m crying.”

  Caroline’s brows furrowed in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  Silverware clattered, pulling everyone’s attention to Pearl. Her grandmother’s lips forced a smile. “Are you sure you don’t have time to stay for dinner? It’s your favorite from Honey Grazer—their new pot pie with curry?”

  “I know,” Stella replied, smiling at her. “I can smell it. Puff pastry.” She rubbed her tummy. “I don’t want to be too stuffed. I’ll grab a wrap later at the country store.”

  Pearl tried to hide her disappointment but failed and that curled a tendril of guilt in Stella’s stomach. She should go, but somehow, she couldn’t leave with that expression on her grandmother’s face. “Save me a bite though? Please, Gram?”

  At her words, Pearl’s face visibly brightened. “I sure will, dear.”

  Stella walked over and embraced her, feeling her slight frame underneath her fingers, knowing that the reminder of Sam shook her too. Pearl was all willowy elegance and at five-six, a half a foot taller than her. It made her wonder sometimes how she’d been short-changed in the height department. After giving Wolf and Caroline another quick hug, she grabbed her peaked cap from the coat stand.

  “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Stella said. “Keep Gram entertained, Ice.” Stella had picked up Wolf and his team’s nickname for Caroline. It had nothing to do with her eyes being silver but more of the spectacular way they met. “Are Tex and Melody flying in tonight too?”

  Tex was from Virginia Beach, but moved to Tennessee after he married Melody.

  “I got a call from Mel.” It was Caroline who answered. “Akilah came down with the flu and she has to sta
y behind.”

  “Oh, that’s a bummer.” The Navy was holding its Trident Run. It was a public event that included many retired and active duty sailors, to show solidarity within the community after politics had plagued their ranks. “I’m off that day, so you can be sure I’ll be cheering you guys on.”

  “Counting on it, Stella.” Wolf gave her a light punch on her shoulder.

  She headed to the door but paused to look back at Gram and caught her watching her leave. The years had turned Pearl’s hair silver—which she maintained in a sleek pixie cut—and creased the corners of her eyes and mouth with shallow lines, but otherwise her skin was alabaster smooth like her namesake. Stella marveled at the seventy-year old woman who could still manipulate chemical equations like nobody’s business. Despite their contentious relationship over her job in law enforcement, Stella couldn’t ask for a better grandparent in every other aspect of her life.

  She gave Gram a smile and a nod and left the house.

  A rickety two-story structure—a hundred-year-old general store—stood at the intersection of Little Indian Road and Princess Anne Highway. It had stayed vacant for the past several decades, needing extensive restoration. For the residents of Pungo, it was part of its rural charm and it would be a blasphemy for developers to change the look—or worse, tear it down.

  Across from the landmark was a gas station with a convenience store. It was Stella’s favorite stop for a quick bite in Pungo. She backed her cruiser into the shadows so she had an unobstructed view of the gas pumps. The shop was painted barn red that gave it the appearance of a country store. It was open until midnight and she cruised through this intersection a couple of times during her shift.

  A bell chimed as she stepped in. She spied Hamid behind the counter where Cajun fried chicken sat under a heat lamp. He owned the store with his wife Soosan, who was the cashier behind the counter of cigarettes and scratch-it lottery cards.

  “Officer Hunt, good evening,” the man called out. Hamid stood at the same height with Stella, his dark eyes always welcoming. That was one gratification of patrol work despite its ungodly hours, giving store owners the peace of mind of being watched over.

  “Chicken samosas are on special tonight.” He waved to the rectangular glass display positioned between the shelves.

  Missing the chicken pot pie didn’t seem such a disappointment now. Samosas, after all, were the perfect hand-held snack food made of spiced potatoes, onions, and lentils.

  “Sounds good to me,” Stella replied and helped herself to the self-service hot food area.

  The entrance bell chimed again just as she was wrapping her two samosas in waxed pocket wraps. Glancing up, she stilled. Two men walked in and brought with them a tension that saturated the store. Hamid greeted the newcomers with considerably less enthusiasm than he did her. The shorter of the two men had dirty blond hair in the style of an overgrown mullet. Stella wasn’t sure if it was greasy on purpose or just lack of hygiene. Both men were wearing leather jackets. The taller of the two was twice as wide and, as her gaze trailed past the rock band tee stretched across a muscular chest, her eyes locked on the most arresting face she’d ever seen. A rugged mountain man, not only in looks but in size.

  A strong jaw was shadowed by a few weeks growth of beard. Dark hair that curled around his neck was longish as if he needed to see his barber. Tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed and used his fingers as his comb and yet it suited his features.

  Bed. Why did she think of bed in reference to him? Now another kind of awareness prickled her skin.

  Inappropriate thoughts zinged at her from nowhere. No. It was from the massive sex appeal emanating from every inch of the man five feet away.

  Which made Stella think of the last time she had sex.

  A disappointing time.

  Too late, she realized she was still staring as arrogant brows shot up over blue eyes a shade darker than her own with lashes so thick, they were wasted on a man.

  “Gentlemen,” she greeted, and congratulated herself on the coolness of her tone even as she was reeling from the effect of Mountain Man before her.

  “What’s good here, officer?” the skinnier one asked, unaffected nonchalance laced his voice. The frown his companion shot his way raised alarms in Stella’s head, but it gave her a perfect opening.

  She closed the display case. “I’m having a samosa if you’re feeling adventurous.”

  “Is that curry?” the man in slim-cut jeans asked. “Not the usual convenience store fare.”

  The frown on Mountain Man deepened, but his forehead smoothed when he caught Stella looking at him. He turned to look at the rack of beef jerky.

  “First time in Pungo?” she asked.

  Slim Jeans realized his mistake and took his time to answer. “We pass through here often.”

  Lie.

  “Where are you guys from?” Stella asked, walking to the counter where Soosan was casting furtive glances their way. She probably had her finger on the alarm. These two dudes spelled trouble with a capital T. Stella’s instructor at the Academy said the spidey-sense that predicted trouble would come with time and experience. With these guys, the tingle was more like a sting of a thousand needles.

  “I mean, Pungo is a foodie destination,” Stella added. “The Honey Grazer is just a quarter mile up.”

  “Right,” Mountain Man muttered and held up a couple of beef jerky packs. “As you can see, we’re far from foodies. Go grab what you need, bro,” he told his friend and stalked off in the direction of the coolers.

  “Sorry,” Slim Jeans grinned, revealing a mouthful of overlapping teeth. “Later, officer.”

  Stella exchanged a look with Soosan and paid for her samosas, then she sauntered over to one of the two cafeteria-style tables by the windows and slid into a bench to eat her snack. Interesting that there was no vehicle in front of the store, and she could not see one within her line of vision. The two men paid for their items and walked past Stella’s table on their way out.

  Slim Jeans smiled his crooked-tooth grin again and waved a mock salute. Mountain Man didn’t even acknowledge her.

  Craning her neck, she peered out the glass pane to see which direction they headed. It was on the other darkened side of the store opposite to where Stella parked. Scarfing down one samosa, she resealed the waxed paper pocket and stood to determine the make of the vehicle.

  She was by the entrance when a dark van pulled onto Princess Anne Highway.

  “Thanks for staying,” Hamid said, walking to her side.

  “Have you seen these guys before?”

  “I couldn’t say. We get a lot of people passing through. I’m always behind the food counter,” the store owner said. “Soosan,” he called, then spoke to her in their language. “She said she hasn’t seen them either but maybe the taller one? She thinks he was in here not two weeks ago.”

  So, there was a possibility they were not just passing through.

  “Okay, I better hit the road and do my patrols,” Stella said. “I’ll do another round here at eleven.”

  “Thanks, officer.”

  “Woohoo, that’s a pretty cop,” Tom Gould crowed beside him, punching the steering wheel with glee. “I wouldn’t mind dipping my dick in that cop pussy.”

  Jake gritted his teeth. He found himself instantly protective of Patrol Officer Hunt—at least, that was what her nameplate said. She was coolness personified in her tight bun and pressed uniform that belied her hotness in a curvaceous tiny form. But he had no doubt that she could stick a baton up this bastard’s ass if he spoke to her that way. Still, Jake couldn’t shake off the electricity that pinged between them when their eyes met. Her crystal blue eyes flared with something, and that something he’d felt all the way to his cock.

  “Shut up, Gould, and watch the road.”

  “Huh, did I hit a nerve? You never reacted this way when I talked shit about the girls at the titty bar.”

  That was because Jake was trying to keep a low profile.
But it was getting harder and harder to keep from punching this asshole as he kept up his sleazy commentary. Working undercover as a dock worker for the Port of Virginia, he chummed it up with Gould who was in charge of shipments coming in from Europe. And from following his movements in the past few weeks, he was connected to Krieger United LLC—a trucking company that was a front for a neo-Nazi gang.

  A gang Jake was trying to infiltrate because they were the go-between for a European arms dealer and the Central American cartels the Guardians were after.

  “We have a van full of illegal weapons—guns that Schneider needs to ship off to the cartels and you want to call the attention of a cop?”

  “Tension was thick in that store, man,” Tom grumbled. “Tryin’ to diffuse it.”

  He glanced over at Jake. “If it weren’t for me, Schneider wouldn’t have agreed to bring you in. But something tells me he won’t be using you as his dock connection. You can be the gang enforcer because this undercover shit? Man, you suck.”

  Unknown to Gould, his dig had hit the bullseye. The CIA passed Jake over when he applied for a spook position. He went for it despite the warning from his SEAL buddies who told him that the agency rarely hired guys who stood out in the crowd like he did. Forget Hollywood’s depiction of military action heroes—the CIA wanted the every-man look and their ability to blend in. Because of Jake’s height of six-four and his bulk, he barely made it through BUD/S where the tallest and shortest faced more challenges than most. Hefting that boat upside-down during Hell Week certainly was easier when everyone was the same height.