Heart of a SEAL (Uncharted SEALs Book 8)

by Delilah Devlin

  “If all goes well, once you have her, head to the encampment. Hopefully, the rest of the team will be mopping up at that point. You can all catch a ride in the trucks. Can’t take the risk of sending helos that far into their territory.”

  His mind already plotting the steps, Sam stared at the drop zone. He’d be several clicks out from Ash’s position. She had to stay ahead of her pursuers. She was fast…and smart. He prayed she’d hold on long enough for him to reach her.

  Deke lifted his chin toward the exit. “Now, get your ass out there.”

  Shooting to his feet, Sam grabbed his pack, his helmet, and rushed toward the door. “Tell her I’m coming. Tell her she can do this, Deke.”

  “I have no doubts she’s capable, man. I wouldn’t have asked for her if I didn’t believe it.”

  As Sam made his way quickly to the dirt airfield, his mind ran through all the scenarios she might face. If the hostiles got close enough, he knew she’d surrender. He just hoped they’d see value in keeping her alive. But if she maintained some distance, he knew she’d fight. He’d seen her on the range and observed her train in live-fire situations. She was agile, and a great shot. Although not as physically strong as the men, she compensated with speed and an uncanny awareness of her surroundings. Like she’d trained for combat for years, not weeks.

  He’d been proud of the comments the Charter cadre shared as they’d evaluated her performance, even as he’d cringed. They could see the possibilities. How she could be deployed. So could he, and despite the reassurances he gave her that he was okay with her becoming an operative, he wasn’t. Not deep inside. He’d known there’d would be times he couldn’t keep her safe. But he’d counted on being with her, on the same team, watching her six. Not sitting with his butt glued to a chair in an ops trailer as he watched his worst nightmare unfold.

  The ground support crew rolled back hoses as he approached. The blades began their slow windup. He couldn’t think of the fate of the other crew and Ash’s team. Later, they’d pay their respects and go back in to recover the remains. For now, they had a team member in trouble, and a mission to complete. Seeing Jax waiting at the open door, he ducked beneath the blades and took his place, sitting with his legs hanging over the helo’s side. He’d be the first down the rope. The first on her trail. Giving Jax a thumbs-up, he drew a deep breath. His heart settled into a steady, thrumming beat.

  The helicopter lifted, dipped to the side as the pilot headed into a crosswind, and then they flew only meters above the dark forest canopy.

  He glanced at his watch. Wished he had a pilot’s headset to drown out the engine noise and the whomp of the blades, because he would have loved to hear what was happening. But maybe this was best. Deke was better positioned to talk Ash through what she had to do to survive. He’d keep calm. Tell her what she needed to know. Keep her moving and apprise her of where the pursuers were. The bastards had the advantage of knowing the particulars about their territory. They could easily push her toward a trap.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering the last time they’d been together, alone in her tiny barracks room. She’d asked him whether she was ready for this assignment. If she’d been anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated to reassure her. She’d sailed through some SEAL-worthy training. Rigorous, exhausting drills. She’d been pushed by DeGrasso, because he’d groused about having to babysit a girl. But management had let him make the call. Impressed with her progress and stamina, he’d given her the green light. He’d sent her into this hell.

  Not that he’d told Ash any of that. She hadn’t needed to hear doubts had existed, even that pushback from some team members was stated until they’d seen her in action. Hell, he’d been proud of her performance, although struggling to keep focus entirely on her mastery of each situation she’d faced while she’d looked so damn beautiful, even covered in dirt and mud. Her brown eyes sparkled with confidence. After so many months living on the island they called home, her skin was a lovely tan. Her frame that hid a wiry strength and agility was deceptively slender. He’d had to aim laser, killing glares at every man on her team to signal he was aware they’d noticed how attractive she was—and he wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect.

  Only Jax, due to their long friendship, dared let loose a low whistle when she’d emerged from a muddy hole, her uniform glued to her gentle curves.

  On that occasion, Sam had elbowed him hard in the gut.

  Jax had bent double then gasped, “Just sayin’, your woman looks…like she’s gonna make it.” He’d reached out and grasped Sam’s upper arm as he pulled himself upright. “No need to fight me. Suri knows I’ve noticed how fit I think your wife is. Fact is, I think Suri’s a little jealous. First, Ash joins Charter. Then Piper—although Piper was a no-brainer. Only way to keep that woman out of trouble is knowing exactly where she is…at all times.”

  They’d both shared grins over Wolf’s wife. The former bounty hunter had already more than proved her courage under fire, taking out a cartel assassin when Wolf had suffered injuries.

  Jax slapped his thigh, pulling Sam back to their current situation.

  The other man held up his hand, fingers spread. Five minutes from the drop zone.

  Sam nodded and reached back for the rope another team member tossed his way. Once he’d clipped his carabiner to the rope and dangled the end over the strut outside, he flipped down his goggles and peered into the forest below, which gave way to a sea of rice paddies, their borders looking like long, undulating snakes.

  Baby, I’m almost there. He prayed Ash was still okay, still moving during the time he’d been kept in radio silence from Deke’s transmissions. When the helicopter hovered and then lowered in altitude, he turned and pushed off the strut, sliding toward the ground.

  Ash could feel her strength waning. She’d been running too long, zigzagging through the jungle, not wanting to get too far from where she’d fallen, because she knew the team coming to her rescue would have to cover the distance. The men tracking her drew closer. She could hear their booted footsteps crunching through the thick vegetation. She hoped the group was large enough that they couldn’t hear her movements as she dodged away, hiding behind trees, keeping her distance, but being slowed by the fact she continually checked their progress behind her.

  Tension gripped her shoulders and back. Her thighs and shins burned from running and crouching. Deke had been silent for a few minutes after telling her a team was on the way, that she had to hold out just a little longer, that if she made her way northwest, she wouldn’t be too far in front of them for the team to reach her in time.

  Easy for him to say. The men trailing her had split into two groups and aimed to hem her in. So far, she’d remained well ahead of them. But they had the advantages of numbers and of knowing the terrain. When she heard crunching nearer than she’d expected, she darted forward, never seeing the ravine until she was sliding on her ass down the side of the steep bank. She slipped into brackish water, making a loud splash, and then waded across because going back was no longer an option. Tucking her weapon into her holster, she grabbed handfuls of rotten vines and dirt to pull herself up the other side.

  “Find cover,” Deke said, his voice tightening. “To your west.”

  She ducked behind a fallen tree and drew her HK .45-caliber ACP, pointing it over the trunk. She drew comfort from the feel of the gun in her hand. Outfitted with sound suppression and a laser sight, the weapon possessed real stopping power. Looked like she was going to need it. And soon.

  Tilting her head, she strained to hear movement in the brush. Struggled to calm her breaths, not wanting any sound to draw their attention, but her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she knew she could miss something. Clamping her lips closed, she drew a long, steady breath. Then another. Then held the next, head cocked in the direction she’d last heard movement.

  A soft pfft sound came from nearby, and she dropped to the ground, pushing as close to the trunk as she could
and hoping the men closing in weren’t equipped with night vision equipment, or worse, infrared, because then they’d spot her.

  “Ash,” Deke said softly. “Team’s close. Be careful where you aim.”

  Her jaw sagged, and she let out ragged breath of relief. But it was too soon to celebrate. Gunfire erupted around her, followed by the softer, thuddier sounds of suppressed fire. Her body tensed. Flares from explosions from the ends of rifles showed between trees.

  And then in her headset, she heard the team counting off as they took down the hostiles. “One.” “Two.” “Three.”

  Bodies rushed past, too quickly for her to discern friend from foe. All wore uniforms that appeared neon green. Disgust filled her over the fact she couldn’t join the fight, that she lay pressed to the dirt while men risked their lives to save her.

  “Ash, you’ve got one at three-o’clock.”

  She rose to a crouch and strained to see, heart pounding, muscles tensed. A figure crossed in front of her, shorter than any of the men she’d trained with, and wearing a bandana around his head, rather than a helmet. She sighted and squeezed the trigger.

  The man approaching fell to his knees, paused, and then went face down in the dirt.

  “Eight.” A familiar voice said over the Comms.

  Another distant pfft sounded.

  “Nine.”

  At last, stillness settled. And then quick, running footsteps headed straight for her, but she recognized his shape, and the way the soldier moved. With a soft gasp, she pushed up from the ground and opened her arms.

  Sam swung her up and held her hard against his chest, their goggles and helmet clacking together. “Fuck, am I hurting you?”

  His breath rasped against her neck, and she laughed. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

  “Not to break up the reunion,” Deke said, “but shit’s going down at the compound. Everyone on channel two.”

  With the switch, they heard the rapid conversation of the team conducting the assault on the camp.

  Sam let her down. “Stay on my ass,” he commanded then he turned and dashed through the forest.

  Although she’d been bone-tired just minutes ago, a spurt of energy, a second wind, had her flying behind him. Just as she’d trained with DeGrasso, she mirrored Sam’s moves, staying close, running when he did, slowing when he checked his direction. At last, they broke into a clearing beside a compound that looked like a primitive fortress with huts made of small logs, and towers on two corners. One wall had already been breached, evidenced by a large section of fence lying on the ground.

  She and Sam slipped through the opening, weapons raised, slowing as they entered the fight.

  Half an hour later, the Charter teams had cleared the area. The kidnappers still living had been herded together, hands zip tied behind them. The transport trucks they’d driven in to move the hostages were now being used to load the gang members.

  Ash sat beside the two nuns who couldn’t stop reaching for her arms and hands. German and Irish women, they spoke in rapid English, harsh sobs making their bodies shake, thanking her and her team members. Ash noted that although both ladies were in need of a bath and clean clothing, they appeared healthy and uninjured.

  Reaching out, she gathered them closer to comfort them. Their gratitude wasn’t something she was used to receiving from the people she protected, and pride flared in her chest. “Just a little longer, ladies,” she said in a calm tone. Deke had instructed them to drive toward the rice paddies. Helos would return to transport everyone back into Viet Nam, including the kidnappers who would be turned over to the authorities there.

  The medic accompanying their team quickly assessed the other hostages’ conditions, but he gave the go-ahead to load up.

  Ash sat amid the hostages beneath the canvas canopy, fighting to still her own tremors, as the vehicle bounced along. Adrenaline, which had kept her moving, was fading. Soon, she knew she’d crash. But hopefully, not before she had to face her next trial—boarding the helicopter that would take them to safety.

  The drive gave her time to think about the moments after the explosion. How her ears had rung, and then how sound had been muffled for long minutes afterward. She remembered the heat at her back, and the darkness below her as she’d glanced toward the stars and stepped out. Everything happening too fast for her to say a prayer.

  She’d survived the crash, and her fall to hard ground. Evaded enemies tracking her through the jungle. Earlier, she’d felt like a superhero, bolstered by Sam’s voice in her ear, and an echo of Marc’s. Yes, she’d heard his voice, too.

  Not that she’d admit it to another human being. She’d come too far. If hearing Marc, if dreaming about him occasionally, still, meant she was a little crazy, then she’d own the label. Besides, she found comfort in the fact he hadn’t entirely faded away, that she felt him sometimes. Looked for him out of the corner of her eye. She thought Sam might understand, and she thought he probably deserved complete openness from her, but Marc was her past. Her burden. One she accepted. And thinking that some part of him might still be nearby, even if only in her mind, was also strangely comforting.

  The truck hit a pothole, and she was nearly unseated. Looking out into the night, without the benefit of her night vision goggles, she noted the darkness wasn’t nearly as dense, and the built-up borders of the paddies curved across the expanse of the fields.

  She moved to the rear of the truck bed, waiting as it pulled to a halt.

  Doors slammed, and Jax appeared below her. He unpinned the back gate and held up a hand to help her down.

  She arched a brow, a gesture likely wasted in the dark, and jumped. She barely contained a gasp as a twinge of pain shot down one leg. Maybe she had suffered some injury after all.

  Jax’s chuckles were soft. “Wasn’t suggesting you needed any help, but you did just have a long fall.”

  So, maybe she’d been too quick to think he was treating her differently from his other teammates because she was a woman, but she preferred to prove she really was all right. Although now, she conceded she’d need to see a doctor to make sure.

  As they helped down the hostages, Ash noted her team had set up a perimeter, men positioned in a wide circle, weapons aimed outward, with some at the tree line. Although, satellite should give them plenty of warning concerning anyone approaching, the team ran things by the book. Ash liked that. The men never took anything for granted. Lessons learned the hard way, she supposed. Or training so deeply ingrained, they’d be wary and attentive to their surroundings anywhere they were.

  At last, the whomp-whomp sounds of approaching helicopters could be heard. She couldn’t help herself, but as they settled to the ground, she closed her eyes.

  A strong arm slid around her waist and drew her against a solid wall of muscle. “I’ll be right beside you.”

  She attempted a smile as she glanced upward. His face was in shadow, bent toward hers. She wasn’t sure how much of her fear she betrayed.

  His head turned toward the still smoking, mangled wreckage a football field-length away, revealing his handsome profile in starlight. His arm tightened.

  Judging by his stern expression, she guessed this was his first time seeing it. “I’m back where I started,” she whispered. “Feels like I’ve been running in a circle.”

  After releasing a breath, he placed a kiss against her forehead. “Deke’s arranging a flight to Tokyo, where you’ll be checked out.”

  “Will you be with me?” she said, knowing her voice sounded small and needy.

  “He knows he can’t stop me. Wouldn’t even try. If the injured one was Nicky, he’d insist as well.”

  “Good,” she said, leaning against him. For just a moment, she let him take her weight. She was too tired to stand alone. “The nuns?”

  “Will be fine. They’re being met by members of their church.” Sam gave her a quick hug. “Time to go.”

  Stiffening her spine, Ash let him release her, trailing her fingers along his arm, and
then she followed him across the field to the open door of the helicopter.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  A week later, Ash entered the office of Charter’s mandated counselor. A final checkmark on their list of tasks she had to accomplish before they cleared her return to duty. Activities all too familiar. She’d had psych evaluations after police shootings, had been sidelined for weeks after Marc’s murder as she’d struggled to push past her guilt over his death. She supposed, that with her history of PTSD, Charter management was just being cautious.

  Still, she rankled at the situation that yet another psychologist held her future career in her hands.

  She’d spent four days in Tokyo being examined. The results of the MRI and CT scans had confirmed that she had sustained injuries—two small fractures to disks in her lower back. She’d avoided surgery—but the specialists Charter had contracted injected glue to stabilize her disks while she healed. The morning after she’d arrived in Japan, she’d awoken with a backache which worsened over the next two days. She’d been given muscle relaxers, but chose to use them sparingly, preferring to endure the dull pain that had her moving slowly rather than fogging up her brain. Assured she’d be out of commission only weeks, not months, and that the pain would fade much sooner, she’d been put on another plane to Charter’s Dallas headquarters.

  Already, she moved easily, although she was aware of twinges in her lower back if she twisted a certain way. If she could just get through today’s appointment without any red flags, she’d be free to return home. Something she yearned for. The island near the Caymans, and the white strip of beach that was home to several other Charter team members, was a restful haven.

  Ash walked to the seat in front of the large wooden desk, aware Cynthia Russell was already judging her expressions and posture. Could the woman tell how much she hated this? No doubt, she’d have to recount her experience in Cambodia. The moments before the crash. Her actions afterward. She only prayed Cynthia wouldn’t decide to draw parallels between that experience and the one that had driven her from New Orleans.