Copyright © 2020 by Mittie Jane Crouch
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Deranged Doctor Design.
A Calamittie Jane Publishing Book
PHOENIX: LINEAR TACTICAL (Adventurer’s Edition with Bonus Epilogue)
This book is dedicated to Megan
Aka: Trouble Twin
Names have been changed to protect the guilty, but everyone knows half the material in this book is taken from our shenanigans.
It requires a special kind of stupid to do the stuff we do. I’m just glad I’ve got a bestie who’s as dumb as me.
Here’s to all the adventures left to come.
We’re just getting started, baby!
Contents
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
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Bonus Epilogue
Other Linear Tactical Books
Acknowledgments
Also by Janie Crouch
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Frankfurt Airport is paging Mr. Eugene Harrison. Please come to the international terminal security office located near baggage claim.”
Riley Harrison tightened his well-worn backpack strap more securely over his shoulder as the announcement repeated itself.
He stopped and raised an eyebrow at his two traveling companions. They’d just gotten off a flight from Spain and were only at the Frankfurt Airport a couple hours before connecting to Sri Lanka.
“Something I need to know about? There a reason Frankfurt Airport security is paging me when I’ve only been in the terminal for five minutes?”
Riley had been in trouble with multiple governments numerous times over the course of his career as an adventure and extreme sport athlete. Ten years of traveling all over the world to participate in and film adventure events and stunts had not always made the governments happy. Especially when Riley had sometimes used his celebrity status—ten million YouTube followers strong—to try to effect some sort of change in the countries he traveled to.
Michelle McGinty, Riley’s longtime producer, pointed a thumb in Damon’s direction. “Dumbass over here had a different girl in his bed every night while we were in Spain. Wouldn’t surprise me if one of them was married or an international spy.”
Damon held up his hands. “Hey, having a good time isn’t illegal in Europe.” He frowned. “Wait, is it?”
Damon Sullivan could ride circles around people on a skateboard, was willing to BASE jump from heights most people considered reckless, and was the top-rated stunt hang glider in the world—way better than Riley could ever hope to be. But Damon wasn’t ever going to be called a mental giant.
Michelle rolled her eyes. “No, not keeping it in your pants isn’t illegal in Europe, sadly.”
Damon looked decidedly relieved as he opened a bag of mixed nuts. The tall, slender man was always snacking on something. “At least they used your middle name.”
Riley rolled his eyes. “I doubt my full name would cause any riots.”
Maybe a few fans might have recognized his name if they’d paged him by Riley Harrison, but probably not even then.
Phoenix, on the other hand… Yeah, he was much more recognizable by that name. Phoenix was the person people turned out in droves for to watch perform all sorts of ridiculous stunts. And even more watched—and rewatched—him online.
But Eugene Harrison? Eugene wasn’t even on his passport, so security wouldn’t have known it. There were only a few people in the world who knew his middle name.
One of whom he was pretty desperate to see. Was always pretty desperate to see.
He tilted his head toward the baggage claim sign. “Let’s go see what trouble we’re in.”
Riley picked up the pace. He was already familiar with Frankfurt Airport—hell, he was familiar with almost every major airport in the world—so he knew where they were headed.
The gate agent working the counter in front of the office gave them a brief nod, obviously expecting them. She opened the door to the small office. Riley bit back his disappointment at the sight of the two men behind the table.
“Damn, Wyatt, look at Boy Riley’s crestfallen face,” Gavin Zimmerman said. “I think he was legitimately hoping we were security.”
Riley grinned and shook his head. “More like legitimately hoping you were Girl Riley. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
Both men came around the table and hugged Riley. Gavin Zimmerman and Wyatt Highfield were founding partners of Linear Tactical and Riley’s good friends.
Linear Tactical was a survival and defense training company that operated out of Oak Creek, Wyoming. Groups—both civilian and law enforcement—came from all over the country to train there. Groups came because of the facilities and equipment Linear had available, but also to work with the former Green Berets who made up most of the company’s employees, including these two men.
Linear Tactical taught everything from wilderness survival, to self-defense, to situational awareness, to weapons training. They were known as some of the best in the world.
But training wasn’t the only thing they did. And Riley knew that’s why Gavin and Wyatt were here.
The other stuff Linear Tactical did.
Michelle and Damon gave Gavin and Wyatt a wave from the door as the guys sat back down.
“I’m just glad to see you’re not the morality police,” Damon said.
Michelle narrowed her eyes at Damon. “You do know that the morality police is not an actual law enforcement unit, right?”
Riley raised an eyebrow at Gavin as Michelle and Damon bickered—per usual. “Speaking of law enforcement, Germany’s a long way out of your jurisdiction, Sheriff.”
Gavin shrugged. “Sheriff Nelson is temporarily back in the office to see how it goes with his health. I volunteered to help Wyatt, so I’m out of the sheriff’s hair. Nelson doesn’t need the temporary sheriff hanging around while he decides what he wants to do.”
Wyatt’s nod was solemn. They were obviously here for business.
Michelle picked up on that too. “How about if Einstein and I go grab a bite to eat? I have a feeling our plans are about to change anyway.”
Riley nodded. “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”
He turned back to Gavin and Wyatt once the door closed, and they all sat down around the small table. “You guys know I have a phone, right? You don’t have to fly halfway around the world just to talk to me.”
“But then we wouldn’t get to see your pretty face.” Wyatt grabbed his tablet and punched in a code. “How are you at sandboarding?”
The sport�
��which was basically snowboarding, but on sand—had been rising in popularity in recent years. It was always going to be limited because its geographic parameters, the need for sand and hills, meant it could only be pursued in certain locations.
Riley leaned back in his chair. “Not as good as I am at snowboarding, but better than I am at, let’s say, ballroom dancing. Why? What’s going on?”
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest. “We know you have a couple of days off before Sri Lanka. We were hoping you’d consider doing an unscheduled stunt stop in Egypt.”
Riley nodded. He already knew why the guys were here—not the specifics, but in general. And it had nothing to do with stunts.
Wyatt Highfield had been head of Linear Tactical’s kidnapping and corporate security division for as long as Riley had known him. Whereas most of the Linear team lived at the home base in western Wyoming, teaching survival intelligence to civilians, Wyatt had been floating around for years, going wherever he was needed.
Wyatt was amazing at what he did. He’d gained the nickname Scout in the Special Forces for a reason. He was able to read and defuse ugly situations. It had made him invaluable in ransom negotiations. And if things turned south, Wyatt had an innate skill for handling things quickly and quietly. He never drew attention to himself. But he almost always got the job done—and kidnap victims home.
If Wyatt was here, the situation was dire, and they needed Riley’s help. This wasn’t the first time they’d met in a tiny office somewhere.
Because of his profession and notoriety, Riley sometimes had access to places others couldn’t get into easily.
“Egypt.” Riley sat back and bridged his fingers together. “I’m assuming you guys have developed some sort of sand fetish and have decided to stalk me, looking for a private sandboarding show.”
Gavin chuckled. “Duh. That’s a given. We can work out terms later.” He tapped the electronic tablet again, then spun it so Riley could see the picture. “This is Andre Barton and his cousin Josh. Americans, both twenty-one. We believe both are currently being held by Sayed El Kadi—an international businessman, suspected terrorist, and local Egyptian tyrant—at his big-ass house-slash-compound about fifty miles outside of Cairo. Dude is a real bastard.”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand across his face. “Normally, we’d go the usual kidnap and rescue—K and R—route, see if Sayed made ransom demands, and work from there. But Andre is the son of a US ambassador. Went into the country despite being told not to. Relations between the US and Egypt are tenuous at best. We are being brought in to see if this can be handled off the record.”
“Are you sure the kid and his cousin are still alive?”
Wyatt nodded. “My best sources say yes. But a snatch and grab isn’t an option. Sayed’s huge property is walled, well-guarded, and fortified. Basically impossible to get into without help from the inside or a full military assault. So we need you.”
This was good. Maybe it would take his mind off the fact that yesterday, Wildfire—a.k.a. Girl Riley to the people of Oak Creek, love of his life to him—had canceled their scheduled video chat for tomorrow.
Long distance had been part of their relationship from the beginning—his profession required a lot of travel. But they’d both been committed to making it work, and it had worked very successfully for three years. Audio calls, video calls, text, chats, letters, visits—whatever either of them needed, they did it.
But for the past couple of weeks, Wildfire had been…distant. Their chats had been sporadic, her text responses shorter and shorter. And tomorrow, the first day he was going to be in a location with strong enough Wi-Fi for a video chat, she’d canceled, saying she had to work.
Yeah.
He wasn’t calling her a liar, but he wasn’t calling her a truther either.
So whatever crazy stunt Wyatt and Gavin needed him for to help Andre and Josh—Riley still wasn’t sure what sandboarding had to do with it—he was in. At the very least it would take his mind off what was happening, or not happening, seven thousand miles away.
“Okay, how can I help?”
“Kendrick worked his computer voodoo in Oak Creek and was able to hack some of Sayed’s files.” Wyatt typed something into the tablet again. “Nothing exceptionally useful, but when we saw that he was into some adventure sports, we immediately thought of you.”
“Let me guess, sandboarding?”
Gavin nodded. “Yes. But mostly FMX is his thing. He has his own FMX course inside his compound.”
Freestyle motocross. It wasn’t Riley’s specialty, but he could hold his own. He didn’t compete, but he’d done some stunts on his bike over the years. They were some of his most popular online videos.
“We’re hoping you could put the word out on social media that you’re making a last-minute trip into Cairo and hoping to do some sandboarding,” Wyatt said. “That usually draws your fanboys, and according to his internet search history, Sayed is one.”
“Even if he comes out to join me, he’s not going to bring his prisoners.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Your presence in Cairo will be a big deal to him. We think if you make it known you’d like to do some FMX while you’re in town, Sayed will issue an invitation. We’ll tag along as part of your crew and bust Andre and Josh out while you’re wowing Sayed with your FMX sills.”
“Doesn’t sound too difficult.”
Gavin glanced at Wyatt, then leaned onto the table with his forearms. “Phoenix, listen. We’re not kidding about the government wanting to keep this quiet. We’re here without backup. If we get caught, things will get ugly pretty damn quick. Sayed is known for being old-school brutal on his enemies.”
Wyatt nodded. “As in, ancient Egyptian old-school brutal. The locals are terrified of him.”
“So you’re asking me to get invited into a known psychopath’s house and distract him with my wit and good looks while you break out two kids who should’ve never been in the country to begin with, knowing we have no backup and are going to die horribly if we’re caught.”
Wyatt and Gavin glanced at each other, then both nodded. “Pretty much,” Wyatt said.
“This is the worst plan ever.” Riley leaned back in his chair and stretched his tattoo-covered arms up over his head. “When’s our flight?”
Chapter 2
Riley and his team had traveled to Egypt several times over the past eight years. He and Damon had gone hang gliding over the pyramids of Giza and scuba diving in the Red Sea. Damon had even attempted a crazy Jet Ski stunt in the Nile River—which had ended with him crashing into the riverbed and breaking his collarbone.
Denied by De Nile. They’d teased him about it for weeks.
Damon and Michelle hadn’t come to Egypt this time. They’d have a couple days off, then Riley would meet them in Sri Lanka.
Hopefully.
The sandboarding plan was both working and not working. Working, because his social media call had been answered in droves. Dozens of sandboarders, mostly teenage boys, and probably a hundred spectators had joined Riley at the posted time and location. Sayed’s name had already been mentioned more than once. It was only a matter of time until he showed up.
Where the plan wasn’t working was in how it was supposed to stop him from thinking about Girl Riley. He was supposed to be video chatting with her right about now, rather than getting desert sand in places he’d rather not think about. A couple of weeks ago she’d been messaging him about what color she was about to dye her hair this time—blue currently leading the race—and then something had changed.
Everything had changed.
And hell if Riley knew what or why.
He swerved to the left and pulled up into an unintentional half-cab 180-degree spin as some teenage kid cut into his path.
Riley wasn’t sure if the cutoff had been an accident or on purpose. Both happened, sometimes because someone didn’t know what they were doing, or sometimes because someone wanted to show off in front of the
big dogs. Riley tried to take it all in stride.
The natives out here with him weren’t so kind, yelling at the kid in Arabic, obviously upset with what he’d done. That was what usually happened if Riley just let it go. The sports world, even the extreme sports world, policed itself.
Riley added a mule kick near the bottom of the dune, a more basic stunt derived from skateboarding, then slid to a stop near a group waiting to catch a dune buggy back up the sand dune. Someone handed him a water bottle, which he opened and gulped.
“You going to yell at me too?”
Riley glanced to the side to find the boy who’d cut him off. Probably fifteen or sixteen years old. At least he was speaking in English so Riley could understand him.
“No. You either did it by accident or you did it on purpose.”
The kid side-eyed him. “Which do you think it was?”
Kid had a high-end board, but it was well used. His moves had been pretty decent for the three hours they’d been at it. He knew what he was doing. “I’d say on purpose. You’re both skilled enough and smart enough to have spun out of my way if you’d wanted to.”
The kid nodded but didn’t say anything.
“What’s your name?” Riley finished the water bottle.
“Omar.”
“You’ve definitely got some skills, Omar.”
The kid loosened up a little bit. “We practice a lot.”
Maybe this kid knew how they could get in touch with Sayed. “How about FMX? Any of that around here?”
Omar’s eyes lit up. Perfect. This is when Riley’s reputation would come in handy. “Yes. I’m better at FMX than sandboarding. You want to ride?”
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