Reclaiming Izabel (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  “What does your husband have on me?” Mitchell repeated the very first question he asked when they’d woken her up. “He must have given you a damned good excuse… why he didn’t choose you—”

  “Your tactics aren’t going to work—”

  “He made you a widow for three years and you’ve been faithful to his memory, haven’t you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You’re a woman who loves deeply,” he continued. “But a man like Drake Maddox—do you think he’s been faithful?”

  Izabel burst out laughing, ignoring the chagrin and waves of anger coming from Mitchell. Admittedly, her amusement was tinged with a bit of hysteria, because she was close to losing her freaking mind trying to keep a brave front. It helped that she’d built up some hate against Mitchell and Tierney ever since she found out about them.

  She shook her head. “You don’t know a man like Drake. If you did, you wouldn’t have abducted me. He will come for me and you will be sorry.”

  Mitchell snorted derisively. “What a cliché statement.”

  He stood and looked at the burly shadow in the corner. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. I admire that in a woman, but not in someone from whom I need information.” The pitying look he gave her sent a riff of fear through her. Coop emerged from the darkness and dragged a desk beside Izabel. He opened a small black case, revealing columns of syringes. “I abhor torture, but I’m all about incentive. I truly believe you don’t have anything useful to give me, but I know who does.”

  “Wait,” Izabel whispered, panic choking her. “What are you doing?”

  “There are different types of interrogation,” Mitchell said casually. “I don’t like blood and I’d hate to mar your perfect skin so we’ll stick to the pharmaceutical kind.”

  He glanced at her as Coop held up a big syringe.

  “You’re not afraid of needles, are you?”

  Chapter 18

  Viktor and the Guardians tracked Izabel to Providence Forge. After receiving instructions from the AGS boss, Drake guided his Escalade, headlights off, onto an unpaved road and parked behind two black SUVs.

  “Gear in the back,” Drake told Marcus. They met behind the vehicle’s tailgate and Drake opened a custom-built compartment. He handed Harrelson a vest and put on his own.

  Marcus gave a low whistle. “Whoa, this is pretty badass.” He picked up the special edition H&K submachine gun.

  “Sorry, bro, that’s my baby,” Drake muttered. “Here …” He handed him two handguns and a rifle. If circumstances were different, Drake would have laughed at Harrelson’s disappointed expression, but levity was nowhere to be found in the situation.

  When they were geared up, they joined Viktor’s huddle with his men where they were looking at a diagram he had on his tablet. It was the layout of the house.

  “Tim got us the floorplan of the farmhouse,” Viktor informed the newcomers. “Brick and Edmunds are scoping INFIL points. Drone indicates seven heat signatures. Two perimeter guards. Three inside.”

  “You said seven,” Drake said. “Izabel and—?”

  “Suspect it’s Mitchell.”

  “Doing his own dirty work?”

  Viktor shrugged. “The clusterfuck he’s in? I’m not surprised. No self-respecting military contractor would harm the wife of a brother.” He pressed on his earpiece. He was receiving transmission from either Brick or Edmunds.

  Drake tried to discern the farmhouse behind the cover of the tree line that served as their staging area. It was sitting on maybe twenty acres. His phone buzzed once in his pocket and he slipped it out.

  It was a message from an unknown number. Attached to it was a video. Terror unlike he’d ever felt before seized his lungs in a vise as the contents of the recording unfolded.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Drake said hoarsely. “Jesus … Izabel … no… no … no…”

  Izabel was squirming helplessly to get away from a big guy who held a syringe. When the man stabbed his wife in the neck, Drake wanted to roar and Izabel’s scream was the final hammer that shattered his nerves. His vision misted red as he watched her convulse.

  Another message followed. “Let’s talk.”

  “Gonna kill those motherfuckers!” Drake charged forward, totally feral. Two bodies flew at him and took him down. He grappled against them, threw one off, and punched another. Someone grunted and Drake found himself pinned and then he was choking.

  Surprisingly, that was when his vision cleared to see Viktor’s face snarling down at him. It was his forearm crushing his windpipe. “Get a grip, Maddox!”

  “They’re killing her!” he snarled back.

  “Tyrosine Penthanol. Not. Gonna. Kill. Her.”

  He closed his eyes. That didn’t sound any better because it was a torture drug. It caused unbearable pain, a fire through the veins like flesh-eating acid.

  He wanted to howl, to rage, to cry. He tried to reel it in, to find his calming center, but he was lost in a storm of fury and despair. Mitchell had found the one thing that would break him and send him to his knees.

  Boots scraped the gravel beside them.

  “I’ve got this,” Marcus Harrelson said from above them.

  Viktor pushed up and away from him. Drake remained on the ground.

  Breathing in.

  Expelling out.

  A hand appeared in his vision. Drake stared at it for two beats, then grabbed it, letting Marcus haul him up straight into a close hug.

  His former commander murmured in his ear, “Don’t let Mitchell win, Lieutenant. This mission isn’t over until we get every single motherfucker who murdered our brothers.” Marcus drew back, keeping a firm hand clasped over his nape to give him a supportive once-over shake. “We’ll get Izabel back. Got it?”

  Drake gave a brief nod.

  “Hooyah, Brother.”

  “Hooyah … Commander.”

  Drake found his calm.

  They took out the two perimeter guards with simultaneous suppressed sniper rounds.

  Mitchell’s men never saw them coming.

  The team converged through two INFIL points on the one-story farm house.

  Brick and Edmunds busted through the front door and gunned down two of the mercenaries.

  Marcus shot through the window and killed the merc who delivered Izabel’s pain shot. Drake wanted that job, but he wanted to be the first one to get to his wife. He crashed through the second INFIL point—the window of the same room—just as Marcus took his shot. He rolled, gun drawn and had it pointed on that motherfucker Mitchell, noting that Izabel was slouched on the chair … unmoving and soundless.

  Drake coated his heart in ice, as the compulsion to shoot Mitchell on the spot screamed inside him. His gun hand shook as the other man stared at him in stark fear.

  “I should kill you …”

  “She’s alive,” Mitchell said in a thin voice. “She just passed out—”

  “Shut up you worthless piece of shit,” he snarled, finger sliding close to the trigger.

  Viktor turned into the room leading with the muzzle of an assault rifle. Drake’s hand spasmed on his gun.

  “Maddox,” Viktor’s voice reached him in the vacuum, and only then did he tear his eyes away from Mitchell as the task force chief tipped his chin. “Got this. Go to Izabel.”

  Viktor barely finished his words when Drake snapped out of bloodlust and turned to his wife. He dropped to a crouch, slid the Ka-Bar from his boot, and cut the flex ties. She fell limply into his arms and he scooped her up.

  Without another word, he walked out the room. Guardians filing in gave him a nod of sympathy.

  “Is she all right?” Marcus asked, coming in from the front door and hurrying over to him.

  Drake couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat.

  All he could do was stare at Izabel.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  “She’s gonna be all right,” someone said beside him. “Medic!”

 
; Wetness streamed down his cheeks and splashed on her face.

  Izabel’s forehead furrowed and her lids fluttered.

  His heart clenched and then expanded as a pulse of hope pushed through.

  “Iza …?” he whispered.

  Chapter 19

  Blood Oil

  Crude oil prices soar with the arrest of Exetron Oil CEO Lawrence Mitchell. Charges of treason are being considered by the DoJ for his role in the massacre of JSOC operators three years ago that became the greatest loss of life in a single day in special operations history. Details in the breach of operational security remain classified. Mitchell denies all allegations saying he never signed off on any agreement between Allison Tierney and deceased terrorist leader Youssef Hamza that would allow Exetron Oil freedom to operate in Africa without threats from Boko Haram.

  Tierney has been released from the hospital after an apparent drug overdose. She was immediately arrested by the authorities upon her release. The Vice President’s former Chief of Staff is alleged to be the mastermind behind the Syrian massacre of Navy SEALs and Green Berets. If proven guilty, she will also be charged with treason.

  Is the price of our military lives worth the low cost of oil?

  Chapter 20

  Six weeks later

  The front door slammed and jolted Izabel from her task in front of her iMac Pro.

  “Iza?”

  Biting her lower lip and controlling a sneaky grin, she quickly closed the file she had open on her computer and stood, looking forward to seeing her husband after he’d been gone for two days.

  “Baby?”

  She quickened her steps to meet him, but Drake had already darkened the entrance of her office at the estate home.

  The impatience on her husband’s face quickly softened into an expression of sheer pleasure at the sight of her. Izabel’s own heart stuttered.

  She’d missed him.

  Drake swept her into his arms and planted a deep crushing kiss against her mouth. He quickly pulled away, a wry smile on his face. “I must say, wife, I’m quite disappointed that you weren’t rushing to meet me at the door, seeing as I’ve been gone for two days.”

  “I was in the middle of something …”

  “Was it more important than saying hello to your husband?” he growled. His eyes tracked down her body as if assessing what she was wearing. A kimono robe covered her camisole and sleeping shorts, showing a lot of leg.

  Izabel’s lips twitched. “I take the fifth.”

  “You’re going to pay for that.” He spun her around. Izabel’s laughter caught as the sting of his palm smacked her ass.

  “Ow!” she yelped even as a throb started low in her belly, but it was the smolder in his gaze that made her pussy clench.

  She held out an arm to hold him off as he backed her into the room. A mixture of coyness and excitement dared her to tease the simmering mountain of potent male before her. “Drake … now, is that a way to say hello …?”

  The corner of his mouth crooked up. “I’ll teach you how to say hello, wife.”

  He lunged and she sidestepped, his fingers catching the robe that ripped from her body. Izabel squealed with laughter even as she knew she was destined for a hard fuck and she did the only thing she shouldn’t have done.

  Run.

  She dashed through the office and up the staircase, consciously aware that Drake was following her in swift stalking strides.

  “Not a good idea to run, baby,” he called.

  What was she doing?

  By the time she reached their bedroom, she was breathless, not from running away from her husband, but from the intense electric ball of anticipation that charged through her body.

  Footsteps sounded behind her and she spun around.

  Drake had removed his shirt and Izabel marveled at the chiseled muscles rippling beneath his skin as he unbuckled his belt, all the while holding her eyes.

  He unbuttoned his jeans and lowered his fly.

  Izabel’s mouth watered at the sight of the dusting of hair leading to the bulge behind his boxer briefs.

  He pounced.

  She playfully shoved at his chest and she felt a rumble beneath her palms before he robbed her of air as his mouth dove into hers and devoured her in a savage kiss. A hand dipped into her shorts and fingered her pussy.

  He growled in approval because she was slick as hell.

  Both of Drake’s hands shifted under her ass, lifted her, and she anticipated she’d be fucked against the wall. But then he walked to the bed and dropped them both to the mattress. She lost his kiss for a hot second, felt the cool air kiss her pelvis as he removed her shorts, and then he swallowed her gasp as he impaled her in one deep thrust.

  She sobbed into his mouth as he circled his hips and ground into her, rubbing the throbbing need at her core. Her release came fast and hard, blinding in its sheer intensity. Her inner muscles were still spasming when Drake lifted one of her legs around his hip and powered into her. He fucked her into the mattress, relentless and harsh.

  He wrenched his mouth from hers. “Can’t get enough of you. Never enough.” He canted his hips to go deeper, his eyes blazing with fierce intensity. Drake bore down in one final stroke and emptied himself inside her. He collapsed on top of Izabel, pinning her under him as his body shook with the last tremors of his release.

  Then he rolled to her side and pulled her against him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Missed you.”

  “I can tell.” Izabel smiled against his skin.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

  Izabel sighed dramatically. “I guess.”

  Drake’s fingers dug into her ribs. She jerked because she was ticklish there.

  “Stop that,” she laughed.

  He was back on top of her, straddling her thighs. “Did you miss me, sweet Izabel?” The devilish glint in his eyes made her laugh harder because just the threat of getting tickled was enough to invoke that reaction.

  Drake’s eyes softened. “I love seeing you laugh.” He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love you, baby.”

  She looked up at the gorgeous man before her. “I love you too, Drake.”

  “So, how did it go?”

  Izabel’s question dragged him out from the sands of sleep. Drake yawned and hugged her tighter. “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Jesus, Izabel, I’m tired,” he grumbled. “Let your man sleep.”

  “It’s barely eight. Have you even eaten?”

  She tried to untangle their limbs, but he only locked her tighter. He smiled inwardly when he heard her huff.

  “Tell me what was discussed.”

  While he was away, Drake appeared at the Senate Intelligence Committee hearing with Marcus Harrelson and Viktor Baran. The public outrage that erupted with the arrest of Lawrence Mitchell and Allison Tierney brought the hammer down on their lawmakers to fix what was broken in Washington.

  “Viktor gave them a two-hundred-page report of what was broken in the DoD and the CIA. It’s a major overhaul, baby. The enemies are learning to adapt, getting more sophisticated, and our government entities are not flexible enough to address the threats. We don’t need cold-war era espionage. We need more analysts who understand the motivations of people who join ISIS, how they get their funding, and how they communicate. The DoD also needs to change their strategy in training their military. Only JSOC is keeping up, but what about the other branches? This was proven in the Iraq war, and the growing threat from ISIS.”

  “Is anything going to be done about the oil lobby?”

  Drake stroked her hair away from her face. “With the global economy playing a key role in overall security, every company or trade association will be scrutinized in their spending.” He went on to tell her what he was allowed to say since it had been a closed hearing. “Bottomline, big changes are coming to Washington.”

  Izabel sighed. “Well, let’s hope it’s not all talk.”

  Drake hoped
so too. “Enough about me. How’s the construction of the Glen Ford neighborhood coming along?

  Izabel smiled. “The Solace Foundation has finally broken ground on the apartment complex.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Also, it was Kyle’s last day today,” she added quickly.

  “It’s about damned time,” Drake said, keeping his voice level and trying to control the anger that rose in him every time he remembered the architect’s role in Izabel’s abduction. Though Izabel saw him as a victim, Drake viewed him as an idiot.

  “He’s really sorry about what happened and apologized again before he left,” Izabel said.

  Drake didn’t say anything. When Marcus discovered how the fake maintenance guys got into the building, Drake lost his mind. Allison Tierney had been watching Izabel and the people around her, picking out who she could target. She’d zeroed in on Kyle. Tierney’s MO had always been “sex as a weapon” and she had a bevy of high-paid escorts who she had used to seduce lawmakers she wanted to blackmail. In the case of Kyle, she used them to swipe his keycard, allowing access into the company. The architect hadn’t even found out it had been duplicated until Marcus barged into his office and hauled him off for questioning. It was only through Izabel’s pleading that kept Drake from beating the shit out of the guy.

  He was also in awe at his wife’s resilience from her ordeal. Although the first week or so brought her nightmares, she was able to put the incident behind her with the help of Doc G and Drake.

  She was a true blue SEAL wife.

  Izabel’s foot rubbed against his hairy legs.

  “Cold?” Drake murmured.

  “Hmm …” she pressed closer. “Just miss the feel of you.”

  “So, what took you so long to get to the door?”

  “Not this again,” she groaned, giving an emphatic pained sigh.

  Drake chuckled. “What are you hiding from me?”

  She swatted his chest. “What makes you think I’m hiding something?”