Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “Don’t make sound,” he growled.

  Hell, the Russian accent was more than passable, it was pitch-perfect and downright scary.

  27

  “No bodyguards my ass,” Finn breathed into his mic. “I count three.”

  “You’re losing your touch, son,” Clint huffed out a laugh. “There’s a shadow coming out from behind the pillar out front of the mansion—bet you ten to one, that’s a fourth bodyguard.”

  “Shit, you’re right.”

  The senator’s house was surrounded on one side by a state park. Finn was up in one of the trees with his sniper rifle, surveilling everything. Clint had made it onto the grounds and was behind the water feature that was made up of hundreds of pieces of granite. Seriously, who thought that would be a good idea? It made for a prime launching point for an attack. With his cammo garb and face covered in black paint, he was going to be impossible to spot, especially when he was behind the lights that shone onto the fountain. Currently the three guards were stationed up at the house and only one guard strolled the perimeter of the fence, and he took his sweet time to do it. Clint clocked him at twenty minutes for each rotation. Finn had caught a big ole whiff of marijuana, which meant he was toking up when he was in the shadows. So he wasn’t going to be a problem.

  “Finn, you have to be right, because that guard patrolling the perimeter is getting slower and slower. He hasn’t made it back to the front for a half-hour. I think he’s napping.”

  “Probably.”

  They watched as a burly man in black slacks and a t-shirt stepped out of the shadows and talked into a walkie-talkie. It was obvious when he got pissed. He motioned for one of the other guards to go around to the back of the mansion.

  “I’ll go wrap up those two,” Finn said. “You can take care of the two in front,” he said to Clint.

  “I’m on it.”

  Their plan was no blood, just a peaceful in and out, with the senator so scared he’d turn on his mother. Clint waited a long five minutes until Finn said he had the two men subdued, then he pushed one of the granite stones off the top of the water feature into the pool of the fountain. It made a god-awful noise.

  “Go check it out,” Shadow Man said to the other guard.

  The other man pulled out his gun and slowly made his way to the fountain.

  “Come on, don’t be a pussy, it was probably a racoon, but you have to check it out.”

  The other man didn’t speed up. He continued to wave his gun back and forth as he crept forward. Clint was on the other side behind the lights, watching the man as he got closer. It took him long moments until he finally looked into the pool. Clint was careful as to the position of the next rock and the man. Then pushed it so it hit his back and he plunged into the water. He was going to be out of commission for a minute.

  “What the fuck?! Jason, what happened?” The man on the porch didn’t move an inch. From the back of the fountain, Clint broke the two lights that shone on the fountain’s pool, then pulled the bodyguard from the pool. He gasped for breath as Clint applied zip ties to his wrists and feet.

  “If you stay here and shut up, you won’t die tonight. Got it?”

  The man nodded.

  “Jason!” Shadow man yelled again.

  What a shitty leader. Not even bothering to help his man. He pulled out his walkie talkie. “Mike, can you hear me? What’s the status on Lou?”

  He was met by silence.

  “Somebody answer me.”

  Clint saw Finn at the corner of the mansion’s porch.

  Perfect.

  “Jason’s over here,” Clint yelled out. “If you want him alive, you need to come and get him.”

  “Who are you?” Shadow Man demanded to know, but he didn’t move a step. So much for a diversion.

  “We want to talk to the senator. Either let us in, or you’ll be in the same boat as Jason, Mike and Lou. Is that what you want?” Clint asked.

  Clint saw him hesitate. Then he turned around and ran for the massive front door. They couldn’t let him inside the house. He’d be one more obstacle between them and getting to the senator, but they didn’t want to kill him either. Finn pointed his rifle and took a shot. The man fell to the ground, yelling in pain.

  It took a moment for Clint to figure out what had happened. Finn had shot off the top of one of the ornate large door handles and it must have hit Shadow Man.

  Score for Finn.

  Clint and Finn rushed the man.

  “How many more guards inside?” Clint demanded to know.

  “None,” he said weakly.

  Finn kicked him in the ribs where the handle had hit, and he shrieked in pain.

  “Tell the truth.”

  “Two. But they’ll have heard everything on the walkie-talkies. You’re toast. There’s no way you’ll get to the senator.”

  “Where does the senator sleep?”

  “Upstairs, third bedroom down the hall on the right.”

  God, he wasn’t bright. Clint picked him up, not caring if his ribs were broken. He pulled him out into the yard. “Point to a window.”

  “It’s on the other side,” he whimpered. “He likes to look over the park.”

  “God save me from idiots.” He hauled him around to the other side of the estate and made him point. It was perfect, plenty of stone handholds to get to the window. He shoved the guard to the grass and zip-tied him after throwing the walkie-talkie into the bushes.

  “Finn,” he said into his mic.

  “Yeah?”

  “I can make it to the senator’s room. I’ll meet you there.”

  “You’re leaving me to take out the bodyguards. You are a true friend.” Clint could hear the smile in Finn’s voice.

  Lydia and he had done a lot of research on the senator. No family, no women or men friends who might be spending the night. Nope, this guy was totally boring. So, they felt safe confronting him.

  But, Clint was cautious because the bodyguard intel was totally off. You never knew. He climbed up to the third-floor window. It was February, so the window wasn’t open, but when he looked he saw that it wasn’t locked either.

  He could see the senator sleeping soundly by himself. So at least something was going right tonight. “How you doing Finn? Can I go into the senator’s room yet?”

  “Give me three more minutes, I’m still searching for the second guard.”

  Clint waited three minutes. Still nothing.

  “You okay?”

  “I don’t think he’s on the first floor, I’m going to check the basement.”

  Clint watched as the senator rolled over and made a grab for a pitcher of water beside his bed.

  “Can’t wait. Gotta go now,” Clint said.

  So much for stealth, time for surprise.

  Clint slammed the butt of his pistol against the glass. It shattered and he saw the senator drop the pitcher. Clint used his gloves to pull out the shards of glass that would otherwise rip his hands to pieces, then dropped and rolled into the room, his gun at the ready. He was met with the senator holding a peashooter.

  “Really? I don’t think that’s going to do much against my Kevlar, you greedy son-of-a-bitch. But you can try while I shoot you with my Glock. We’ll see who wins and who loses,” Clint laughed.

  “Who are you?” the Senator demanded in a supercilious nasally tone.

  People voted for this asshole?

  “I’m your worst nightmare.”

  “I pressed my panic button. In less than one minute, six men will be in here to blow you to hell. Then we’ll see who is whose nightmare.”

  “Like they haven’t been dispatched,” Clint said sarcastically. “Seriously, hiring people from Rent-A-Cop was not your best choice.”

  Clint was watching the senator carefully so he saw the second he twitched. Clint moved, but he moved into the shot. Not only had he shot low and to the left, he’d shot two feet to the left.

  Goddammit.

  Clint’s shoulder hurt like a moth
erfucker. He lunged and wrestled the goddamn senator to the floor.

  “Didn’t anybody ever teach you how to shoot, you dumbass?”

  The senator looked up at him blankly.

  The pain, the rage, the adrenaline overwhelmed Clint. He wanted to kill the man who was cowering below him.

  “What do you want?” he finally whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I want you dead. Isn’t that what you’ve been planning for others? You fucking puppet master. Isn’t that what you do? Arrange things all your way, for nothing more than money, not caring who you hurt, or who you kill?”

  Shit, he was so fucking off script. Reign it in. Get it back in line. You can do it, Archer.

  “So you want me to repent? Is that it? You want to toss me into jail?”

  “Maybe I do.” Clint stared at him for a long time, trying to get his head back in the game.

  “Tell me!” The senator screamed up at him, spittle hitting Clint’s face. Clint kept thinking of how to dig himself out of this hole. He knew his lines.

  Wait.

  Maybe.

  “I understand being in a jam. But you’re not in a jam, you’re a greedy fuck who is screwing over everybody and doesn’t care who you kill. I’m doing this for my family. I don’t have a choice.”

  “What do you want?!” The senator screamed again as he looked frantically at his bedroom door.

  “They’re not coming. All your bodyguards are gone. It’s just you, me, and the Russian mob.”

  His eyes got so wide, white was showing all the way around. Yep, nothing like the Russian mafia to put the fear of God in someone. Then the man swallowed. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “Your secretary is dead. But we have a souvenir for you.” Clint rustled around in his backpack and pulled out a smallish-sized box. He opened it up with a flourish and allowed a hand to fall out on top of the Senator.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhh, get that off of me! Please. Get that away from me.” Clint picked up the fake hand with his gloved thumb and forefinger.

  “Recognize this ring? Isn’t it Mrs. Sugarman’s?”

  The Senator started to cry. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  The door to the bedroom opened and the senator looked at it with such hope. But it was Finn. He looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with someone. “Found the guy. He’s down for the count. Oh good, is the senator going to come through for our bosses?”

  “I was just going to find out.” Clint continued to hold the hand just inches away from the man’s face.

  “Anything. Just let me live. What do they want?”

  “They want the deal you’re planning on giving the Kazakhstanis.”

  “But I can’t get the sanctions lifted off of Kazakhstan, the secretary of state won’t allow me to lift them,” he whined.

  “That’s bullshit. We know what your boys are planning. Tell us how it’s happening, we want to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “I can’t.”

  Clint dropped the hand so that it palmed the senator’s face. He screeched like a little girl. His hands were trapped by Clint, so he could only shake his head back and forth to dislodge it. “Anything, I’ll tell you anything.”

  Finn had his phone ready to record everything. “Talk.”

  “I was going to make a killing with the Kazakhstanis once the tariffs were changed, but then they weren’t. They were pressing me for their investment. When Devon and I couldn’t deliver, they demanded that I remove the sanctions against their country. They thought I could just wave a magic wand since I was the leader of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. The goddamn bitch of a secretary of state is standing in my way. Unless I can get rid of her, my life is worthless. Devon swears he has someone who will assassinate her before she goes on her trip to Africa. I’ve given him money to arrange it.”

  Clint laughed. Of course Devon asked for money, the little shit was always finding ways to get his palm greased.

  “Well, now you’re going to do the same thing, only for our bosses. I need you to make a call to Devon, right now. I need you to explain that the bosses have changed. I need you to tell him that we need to know all of the details. Got it?”

  “He won’t tell me,” the senator whined.

  “I don’t care if you go to the Senate floor missing three toes. You’ll get this done.”

  Clint’s shoulder still ached, but he was damned proud of himself for having pulled off the con, despite the initial slip. He looked up at Finn who gave him a thumbs-up. They got it all on tape.

  “Don’t make another sound.”

  Lydia loved keeping to the script of the Kazakhstani meeting. Devon was hog-tied in front of her and the heel of her very sharp stiletto was positioned close to the little shit’s eye.

  “I would like to kill him,” she said in Spanish to Drake.

  “English!” he snapped at her.

  She repeated herself in English.

  “I know. But the boss might need him. It depends. We will see.”

  “What do you mean?” Devon begged. “I swear, I can help. Please. Trust me.”

  Drake laughed. It was the evil villain laugh from the Bond movies. Devon trembled. Lydia’s heel scraped his nose and drew blood.

  “You will take phone call,” Drake said as he held up Devon’s cell phone. “If you are good little boy, you might be allowed to live and serve my bosses. If you aren’t, I will allow Carmen to kill you.”

  “Do you promise?” Lydia said throatily. “I haven’t done anything fun in weeks.”

  “If he screws up, you can take your time with him, Milaya.”

  “I love it when you speak Russian to me,” Lydia cooed.

  Drake had unknown talents coming up with Russian endearments. She just knew he was smirking underneath the mask. She wondered what was taking Clint and Finn so long to call. Please God, say everything is okay. It should be simple. No bodyguards, no family, just snag the senator and have him call.

  The phone in her hand started to play the first few bars of the Stars and Stripes. She looked down at the display and saw that it was Senator Leonard. She put it on speaker as she answered. “Yes?” she asked in a thick Spanish accent.

  “Carmen?” Clint asked.

  “Yes, my love. My Russian darling is here with me as well and he has this little man tied up at my feet. I want to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. May I?”

  Lydia looked down at Devon, his trembling even worse than before. But she kept her foot up so she didn’t actually take out his eye. More’s the pity.

  “Where’s….where’s….what…”

  “Do you have something to say?” Drake yelled at Devon. “If so, just say it!”

  “What happened…to the…”

  “My love, I think this little worm wants to know why you have the senator’s phone,” Lydia purred.

  “Oh. Is that what he’s stammering about. Well, let’s have him talk to the senator.”

  “Devon,” a new voice came on the phone. He sounded as scared as Devon. That fake severed hand must have done the trick. Seriously, one trip to the costume store and everything falls into place. Lydia tried to make her grin look evil.

  “Senator,” Devon responded. “What’s going on?”

  “Never mind. You have to tell me what plans you’ve made in regard to the secretary of state.”

  Lydia watched Devon closely. Scared as he was, she saw him start to scheme. Little shit. She scraped her heel from the corner of his left lip, up over his scratched nose to the corner of his right eye.

  “Please, be careful,” he wailed.

  Drake knelt down beside Devon and pulled out the knife he’d used to cut the rope that he had used when tying up the little man. “You think her heel is scary?”

  Drake used the tip of the knife to pluck the first three buttons off his orange-stained shirt. Then he scraped off some of his wispy chest hair.

  “I’ll do anything, please don’t hurt me.”

  “Answer the
senator’s questions,” Lydia said in the thick Spanish accent.

  “Devon, listen to me.” The senator sounded more in control. “I need all of the details of what you have planned. It is imperative that you tell me everything right now.”

  “We agreed you wanted plausible deniability, sir.”

  Drake yanked open Devon’s shirt and played the knife around Devon’s nipple.

  “I’ll talk. I’ll talk.” Weasel-Dick cried.

  “I have the SEAL; you know the one. I’ve been blackmailing him.”

  “How?” The senator demanded to know.

  “I faked the tape of when we were in Syria. I threatened to take it to the Navy Brass to get him arrested, kicked out, or something. Anyway, I’ve got him by the balls now. He’s going to be in D.C. in a couple of hours. I’m going to tell him that his target is the Secretary of State. I have all the details of where she is flying out, the whens, the wheres, the everything.”

  “You really think he can kill her?” The senator asked.

  “Absolutely. They’re trained to kill. This will be a cakewalk for him. I saw what he accomplished in Syria.”

  “Tell me the whens and wheres,” the Senator demanded.

  “She’s leaving tomorrow at midnight out of DCA.”

  “Security is damned tight at that airport, how in the hell is your SEAL going to accomplish a kill there?”

  “Not my problem,” Devon defended himself. “He’ll get the job done. You know their motto, the Few, the Proud, the SEALs.”

  “That’s the Marines, you moron.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s going to get her off your back, and then you’ll be able to lift the sanctions, and the Kazakhstanis won’t kill us,” Devon said breathlessly as he looked between Drake and Lydia.

  “Our plan has changed. The Russian mob is going to take care of our friends in Kazakhstan, and instead, we’re going to lift the sanctions in Russia.”

  “Will we get our money?” Devon whined.

  “We’ll come out of this with our lives, is what we’ll get. They want to be in charge of your asset.”

  “I figured everything out. I have the tapes. He’s mine,” Devon cried out.

  “They’re there with you, right? I have men here in my goddamn bedroom. I have my secretary’s severed hand on the carpet beside my head. They’re not fucking around. You give them everything they want, or we’re both dead.”