Reclaiming Izabel (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  “Allison?”

  “Allison Tierney,” Viktor said silkily. “Rumor has it, Vice President Colbert is being groomed to run for President.”

  “What does Allison have to do with anything?”

  “She had operational knowledge of the mission.”

  “She was present at the briefings, yes.”

  “Do you know that some of Colbert’s biggest supporters are the oil companies operating in Africa?”

  “Same for every other fucking politician,” Marcus said, then squinted his eyes. “I know who you are, Baran … what you do. I heard rumors of a shadow force operating unplugged from the DoD and CIA. That’s you guys. Am I right?”

  Drake stepped back as Viktor took the floor. Apparently, there was a political angle none of the team was aware of.

  “You mentioned Youssef Hamza,” Harrelson stated as the name of the terrorist registered. “Wasn’t he …?” He turned to Drake. “Sudan?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is about Sudan,” Marcus swallowed hard. “I heard he aligned himself with Boko Haram.”

  “He became the puppet master behind every modern terrorist network.”

  Harrelson bowed his head, giving it a shake before he glanced back at Drake. “I gave the order that killed his family.” His lids slid shut and tears escaped the corners of his eyes. “Dianne, Adam, and Joe—they’re dead because of me.” His shoulders shook as he was wracked with sobs.

  Viktor and Drake exchanged glances.

  What’s next?

  Viktor gave Harrelson a few minutes to collect himself before he spread the photos on the table.

  “These are pictures of Tierney and the CEO of Exetron Oil,” Viktor said. “Boko Haram has been giving the company problems.”

  Ignoring the photos on the table, Marcus looked at Drake. “Tell me Hamza is dead.”

  He nodded and it was only then that Marcus looked at the photographs. “Ally mentioned their problems with Boko Haram in passing.” He sniffed as a shudder went through him. The revelation had shocked his system and his lips were bloodless.

  Drake leaned in close as he picked up the second time his former commander used Tierney’s name with familiarity.

  “What exactly is your relationship to Tierney?” Viktor asked.

  “When Dianne and I …” His shoulders droop as if in realization. “Good God … I’m such a fucking idiot. Ally and I had a brief affair …”

  Oh shit, Drake thought. Viktor went in for the kill.

  “You had an affair with Tierney while you were separated from your wife? Can you give us a timeline?”

  “Three months, on and off, but we were together the week up until we deployed.”

  “Did she stay with you at the hotel?”

  “Yeah …”

  “Did she have access to your phone?”

  “I’m so stupid,” Marcus muttered. “I never thought Ally …”

  “Could the signal be coming from Tierney’s burner and not Marcus’s?” Drake asked. This could certainly be a game changer. Marcus didn’t have motive; Tierney did.

  “Possible,” Viktor said. “The numbers are different, but she could have used different burners.”

  “So, she already had operational information because of her position as Chief-of-Staff,” Brick interjected. “And she’s the one feeding information to Hamza? But, why even bother with Marcus?”

  “The Teams,” Marcus looked up at them with a tortured expression. “She was very interested in our personal stuff. Family life. I’m an idiot,” he repeated. “She played me … I thought she was sympathetic to our lives … the challenge of getting deployed and coming home. Something Dianne had grown to resent and what tore our marriage apart. Jesus … she played me.”

  “Hamza had a very detailed file on every single member of Fire Team,” Viktor said. “Granted Tierney has access to every SEAL’s file, but this is personal to Hamza. He wanted to hit the SEALs where it hurt.”

  “I’m gonna kill her,” Marcus whispered fiercely, eyes flaring. “I’m gonna kill that fucking bitch.” He shook his restraints again. “Let me go!”

  “Not so fast,” Viktor said. “I’m not quite convinced you had no part in this.”

  “Are you insane?” Marcus roared. “Get me out of this fucking chair.”

  Drake was torn but his surge of sympathy for Marcus could in no way eliminate his ex-commander as a suspect. The way his life was so fucked up spoke for itself.

  “Maddox,” Viktor said. “Step outside, please.”

  He was ready for a break. Already raw from his situation with Izabel, it gutted him that he’d misread Harrelson’s situation. They were brothers. He should have trusted him, but these past three years had changed Drake in a fundamental way. The concept of brotherhood had been lost since they’d operated sometimes on their own.

  Marcus was still losing his shit when they exited the room. When the door closed, Viktor crossed his arms and braced his legs.

  “What do you think?”

  Drake laughed in self-deprecation. “You’re asking me?”

  “Do you trust Harrelson?”

  “I did,” Drake said. “Then I didn’t. Now? I’m not sure any more.”

  “Gut?”

  He blew out a breath. “I knew he was having problems with Dianne, but I didn’t expect he would have an affair.”

  “He was separated.”

  Drake knew he wasn’t being fair, but if Izabel asked him for a separation, the last thing he’d do was fall into bed with another woman. Instead he’d do everything to win her back, to find out where he’d failed and fix what was broken.

  “Not everyone has what you have with Izabel, Maddox,” Viktor said as if reading his mind. “Don’t let that cloud your judgment on the matter at hand.”

  “I trusted him with my life.”

  “Would you trust him with your life now?”

  “No.”

  A blond brow shot up.

  “Marcus isn’t in a good place, and a hair trigger from losing it. He’s only six months out of rehab and got murder on his mind.” Not that he blamed the man. “Using him as an asset now is risky …”

  “But … ?”

  “It could also be an advantage. He’s got motivation.” And there was a fire in Marcus’s eyes the last time he demanded to be freed.

  Drake’s phone buzzed and saw that Tim had sent a text. Izabel was awake.

  “I need to get back.” Drake had his own problems to deal with. “I’m the last person to make a decision about Marcus.”

  “Agreed.” Viktor nodded toward the elevator room. “Go to Izabel. Spend time with her. Did you inject her with the BloodTrak serum?”

  BloodTrak was a tracker created with nanotechnology that bound to the host’s blood cells and was untraceable by most tracker wands.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Take her to see Carter or get her out of town …”

  “How about her job? The police have to be looking for them.”

  “We’ll handle it. For now, we’re putting the blame on the local chapter of the Fuego Gang.” Fuego was the notorious Latino gang with ties to the Mexican cartel and had been known for violent executions.

  “Will her abduction jeopardize the project? It might spook the bank and the foundation sponsoring the development.”

  Viktor’s mouth turned up at one corner. “I think we’ve given the cops a reason to tighten the leash on the gang’s activities. I’d say we’ve done the development a favor.”

  Drake chuckled despite his apprehension that Izabel wouldn’t see it the same way. “Better see how the wife is doing.”

  “Good luck.”

  Chapter 11

  “Izabel?”

  Drake approached his wife carefully. She was huddled at the edge of the cot, knees drawn to her chest with her arms around them. He glanced back at Tim and mouthed, “What happened?”

  The analyst hitched his shoulders; worry creased his forehead.

  “Iza?�
�

  “I have a headache,” she whispered, voice scratchy.

  He glanced at the glass of water and the Advil on the small table beside the cot and tried not to sigh.

  “You hooded me.” Brown eyes glared at him.

  “Iza—”

  “You tranq’d me.”

  His mouth thinned as he clenched his jaw. Drake had no defense because he did do those things.

  “You’ve changed.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, lips quivering. “The Drake I knew would never do those things. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.” She rubbed her forehead.

  “And I never would,” he gritted. “You were going to hurt yourself fighting me.”

  “Why didn’t you blindfold me instead?”

  Drake glanced back at Tim, who’d moved to the far end of the room to give them privacy. He took a step closer to Izabel.

  “Because that’s our thing,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t want to taint our memories of something beautiful.”

  Her lips twisted into a sneer that made him bristle. “So you decided it was better to scare me than to ruin our silly sex games?”

  Silly? He could be an ass and remind her how much she enjoyed being blindfolded, naked, with her hands gripping the brass frame of the bed while he spread her legs and devoured her pussy.

  Dammit. He probably shouldn’t have thought of that memory either. His craving for her taste was becoming unbearable.

  “I didn’t think you’d react that way. I was with you, Iza. You knew I would never let anything hurt you.”

  “Don’t you get it? You’re not familiar. How many times do I need to tell you! You’re a stranger.”

  “Then it’s time to get to know your husband again.” He reached out to caress her face, but she jerked away from his touch. He lowered his arm, beating back the weight of bitterness and defeat that was threatening to bury him. He nodded to the water and Advil. “Take that and let’s go.”

  “Where’s Marcus?” It was as if a cloud lifted from her brain and she grew alert. “What have you done to him? Why did you hurt him?”

  “He’s a SEAL. What we did to him was nothing.” At least, nothing compared to Marcus finding out his part in his family’s death.

  “You may have gotten him fired.”

  “Good!” He stalked out from the confines of the divider. She didn’t immediately follow him, but the slamming of the water glass indicated she’d taken the pill. Her footsteps echoed behind him before he was treated to glaring eyes.

  “How can you say that? He’s your friend.”

  “After this, I’m not so sure. And I mean, it was good if he was fired because he could do better things.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re recruiting him? Was kidnapping us some kind of test?” She warily took in their command center, pursing her lips before returning her eyes to his, waiting for his answer.

  “That’s not how it works.” He stepped into the elevator and she hurried in beside him.

  “My purse …”

  “In my car.”

  The sounds of the elevator echoed loudly in their silence. Drake pulled the scissor gates open just as Marcus, flanked by Viktor and Brick, emerged.

  “Marcus!” Izabel cried as she ran toward their friend before Drake could stop her.

  Jealousy stabbed his chest and an unexpected fury locked his muscles because, if he could’ve moved, he would have hauled her against him. Viktor read the situation, moved between Izabel and Harrelson, and stopped his wife from reaching Marcus.

  “Who the hell are you?” Izabel screeched.

  “Your husband’s boss.”

  “He’s not my husband.”

  Viktor smirked. “I agree.”

  Glaring at the other man over the top of Izabel’s head, Drake walked up to his wife, gripped her shoulders, and pulled her against him.

  “Marcus, are you okay?” She tried to look past the mountain that was Viktor.

  “I’m fine, Izzy. Go with Drake.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, Iza, let’s go.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders, firmly gripped her upper arm, and led her toward the back exit.

  “Drake,” Viktor called.

  He and Izabel turned and the task force chief pointed two fingers to his eyes.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  Brick approached them and handed him a hood.

  Mutiny was written all over Izabel’s face as her eyes dared him to put the covering over her.

  “I have no choice.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  Drake was beginning to hate those four words with a passion.

  And with her eyes cutting right through the heart of him, he put the offending layer over his wife’s head and prepared for a hellish night.

  “This isn’t the way home.”

  “I’m not taking you to your house.”

  “Drake, what’s going on?”

  He’d removed the hood the second they got on the interstate. She didn’t like the black sack, but she didn’t freak out or argue this time. Drake wondered if he should have just asked her that first time instead of throwing the hood over her head. Admittedly, a wrong move on his part, but it had been instinctive since he’d done it countless times on terrorists they’d captured and brought back to base. Had he changed that much?

  “I can’t take you back until Viktor releases Marcus. The cops might be staking your house and I can’t risk it.”

  It was two in the morning and Drake wasn’t taking any chances.

  “So, I’m your prisoner.”

  His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Yup.”

  “Can you at least tell me if Marcus’s going to be okay?”

  “Such concern for the commander.” He couldn’t keep the bite from his voice.

  “He didn’t look okay.”

  Drake didn’t respond. He was beginning to resent Izabel and was afraid he might lash out at her. So he concentrated on driving. Dealing with a wife who didn’t want to be his wife anymore, who showed more concern for his friend than for him, was the biggest mindfuck of his life.

  The silence in the car was choking and he was relieved to see their exit coming up.

  “Drake?”

  “Not now,” he bit out.

  “Why are you mad?”

  “Think on that for a minute.”

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  Jesus Christ.

  She huffed in her seat and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look out the window. He resisted the urge to speed down the ramp leading to the house he’d rented, but the surging adrenaline in his system needed its own outlet; he just didn’t know how. And he was afraid he might take it out on Izabel. Being alone with her was not a good idea at the moment.

  The house that Tex found for him was on a thousand-acre rural development. Horse fences lined the roadway, until, finally, they came upon the stone columns that marked the property entrance. He was gratified to hear the catch in Izabel’s breathing as they drove through the subdivision. The full moon was high and it spilled its light on the sprawling meadows. A large part of the acreage remained untouched to give the residents privacy and the country-estate flair.

  He turned their Escalade onto a paved driveway and he stopped in front of an all-brick Georgian house.

  “I packed some of your clothes,” he told her. He got out of the car. Izabel did the same with her eyes riveted on the house. After getting the overnight bags from the cargo, he slammed the tailgate closed and walked up beside her. The front of the house was illuminated by landscaping lights, and the covered porch was lit.

  “Why?” She turned to face him, her eyes suspiciously glassy.

  “I wanted to remind you of what we once had.”

  “By throwing one of my designs back in my face?”

  “That was not my intention.” And not what he expected would be her reaction. He was at a loss at what to do anymore. Nothing made her happy. Maybe she was r
ight—he had changed; she had changed, too.

  Frustration surged up inside him. He refused to accept defeat.

  He unlocked the heavy door and threw it open. The foyer chandelier was already on and it didn’t take him long to find the other switches to flood the house with light. It had a beautiful interior, one he knew Izabel would appreciate, but, at the moment, she was seething.

  “Do you remember what we used to do?” He dropped the bags to the floor and got into her space. Not waiting for her answer, he continued, “On the weekends—because my wife was such a workaholic—we’d fill up our coffee mugs and drive to some of your projects. We’d each point out what we liked and wanted to go into our dream house and what we didn’t.” Her eyes grew distant as if remembering. A telltale smile softened her lips, so he pressed on. “You lost interest in our routine months before my deployment and I didn’t know why.”

  She looked away from him and stared at the floor. Drake bent over and unzipped one of the duffels and pulled out crumpled sheets of vellum.

  When she saw what was in his hand, big tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

  “I found this in your trash can in the office,” Drake said softly. “I checked the date, it was the month I left.” He struggled to push the rest of his words out. “Three years ago.”

  Izabel opened her mouth, a deep exhale escaped in what could be described as a soundless cry. Tears fell faster and she shook her head. “You had no right to go through my office.”

  “You lost interest because you’d already designed our dream house—”

  “Stop!” She yelled. “Why don’t you just stop!” Her eyes flared angrily. “We can’t go back to what we used to be—”

  He dropped the ruined plans of the house and grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me why. Why won’t you even try?” He thought of the architect after her. “Is it because of that man?”

  “What man?”

  “The one who kissed you!”

  “Kyle?” Hearing the man’s name snapped the last threads of his control. Rage hazed his vision and, before he knew it, he grabbed Izabel by her ass, lifted her, and walked her toward the dining table.

  “What are you doing?” she cried. “Put me down!”

  He dropped her on the table and slammed his mouth on hers in a ferocious claiming kiss. He wanted to erase the other man’s touch. Izabel was fucking his.