Mad Max (SEAL Team Alpha Book 12)

by Zoe Dawson

  The guy actually blanched this time and said, “Just so we’re clear.”

  “Oh, we’re clear,” Fast Lane said, and if he could have gotten away with it, and maybe even if he couldn’t, he might have punched the pencil neck in the face, jeopardizing his bars. His LT might be an officer, but there was something wild and deadly in his boss. Every man on this team knew Fast Lane would go to hell and back for them. His loyalty, leadership, and dedication to protecting every man on his team was without question.

  The pencil neck ran like a startled gazelle back toward the building.

  “You scared the bejeesus out of him,” 2-Stroke drawled, enjoying the scene of the scared rabbit disappearing into the structure.

  “I have bigger balls than he does,” Anna said.

  The three of them laughed sharply. It had been a long time since a woman had amused him as much as Anna did. He wished they could be friends, but there was no way that was even in his lexicon with the way he reacted to her.

  “Fucking wanker,” Dodger said, the humor in his voice clear. “I swear to God, if Max—”

  “Dies?” Anna turned those ghostly gray eyes on him.

  “I’m going to squeeze that pencil neck until it breaks,” Fast Lane said. “Find a deep hole, fill it with lime, and bury his ass in it.”

  “Yeah, plant fodder,” 2-Stroke said.

  She touched Fast Lane’s arm. “We don’t have much time. The Paraguayans are releasing your HVT. They’re going to expel you from the country and have no intention of rescuing Max. In fact, they’re giving Al’Irada free rein to go after him and use him as a bargaining chip for their second in command, Azmaray Khan Isa Khel. They call him the Tiger of Waziristan, and he’s currently in Gitmo.”

  “He has other names,” Dodger said. Butcher, merciless, and zealot to name a few, but Anna didn’t have to know that. It was obvious she’d been sent here to warn them.

  “Who sent you?” Fast Lane asked.

  “They didn’t really identify themselves. They just showed up at my shoot and pulled me aside, said I needed to get a message to you before the shit hits the fan. They alluded to the higher-ups that wanted your HVT in a deep, dark hole, namely Gitmo. I think. I can’t be sure.”

  “The CIA used you to get a message to us?”

  “Yes, I believe so. Any other route would have been suspicious.”

  “Fuck the Paraguayans and their lying tongues,” Fast Lane said low through clenched teeth. “They tell you what they want us to do?”

  “Yes. Your orders are to pretend to leave the country, then rendezvous at the Hotel Rosa. It’s this hole in the wall where they’ll meet you and get you outfitted.”

  “For what?” Fast Lane asked.

  She took a hard breath. “We’re going to split up and you, Pitbull, Dragon, and Hemingway are going after the HVT.”

  “We?” Dodger asked, his gut clenching with a vengeance.

  “Yes,” she said. “You, me, 2-Stroke, and Saint will go after Max.”

  Max was sure he had a fever. He was losing his grasp on reality and slipping in and out of consciousness, feeling lightheaded, cold sweats making him shiver like it was twenty below instead of a hundred in the shade. Headache, muscle aches, weak as a kitten. He tried to move, tried to get his eyes to focus. Dr. Beautiful was out there on her own.

  Jugs had gone with her, his ears pricked, his attention on the men. He pushed the folds of the sleeping bag away from him. Feeling sick, the pain stabbing like hot pokers into his side, he sat up, pulling his sidearm. His M4 was somewhere in the jungle, lost when he’d flown to the ground…fallen, he corrected himself. He was pretty sure he couldn’t fly.

  He brushed the sweat out of his eyes, his body shaking as he peered through the underbrush. He wasn’t letting that woman run off into danger without overwatch. She was as fearless as Jugs.

  And beautiful.

  Her dark hair was in a tight French braid that ran down her back or curled over her shoulder. Part of it had touched his face when she’d leaned over him to help him sit up, the strands soft and silky against his skin. She had expressive almond-shaped eyes in an oval face, the irises rich, dark espresso brown. The spitting image of Disney’s Esmeralda.

  He was burning up from just the sight of her.

  Every move she made seemed like a slow, deliberate tease. He had felt her reaction to touching him, and at times, he was sure it wasn’t as professional as she had been trying to convince him it was.

  He appreciated maturity—intellectually and physically, like Mak, Pitbull’s wife. Renata possessed both brains and a body that was soft, lush, and womanly. He needed a solid woman as he was a big guy, all over—from his wide shoulders to his large hands and long fingers to his taller than average frame loaded with hard-packed muscle.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t anything like the easy, forgettable women he met at the All In Sports Bar and Grille. A woman he could enjoy for a few weeks until he had his fill, then leave her behind. No, this beautiful, sexy woman was packed with too many complications, and he had to keep his focus on getting himself well and getting back to the team. There was no doubt they would be looking for him.

  Damn, she was a freaking vision, like an angel of mercy sent to help him. He wasn’t one to give into defeatist thoughts, but he was in some big trouble back there.

  He couldn’t hear what she was saying or see what was going on. It irked him that he wasn’t his usual badass self, the one putting his life on the line. The guy with the gun and the know-how to get out of almost any predicament.

  When he twisted the wrong way, he muffled his cry and fell back onto the litter, pain radiating in agonizing waves from his left side until he could barely breathe.

  He heard the brush rustling and forced his eyes open. She was standing there…he blinked several times…with a horse-faced woman in a straw sombrero with bright festive flowers around the brim.

  “Who is this?” he mumbled.

  “Luna,” she said with a smile.

  He clutched his side as another wave of pain swamped him, and he groaned as his synapses shorted out. “We don’t need another woman to drag me around the jungle.”

  Renata’s eyes turned from triumphant to worried, her smile fading. “Max? Are you all right?” She knelt down, touched his forehead, and as the wave crested, he worked at dealing with the excruciating pain. He let it wash over him, trying to think of it as a swell of warm ocean water. He loved the ocean, the clear blue, the salt, the buoyancy. He felt as if he were floating now.

  “Max?” Renata said. Her voice had gotten frantic. “This isn’t a woman. It’s an ass.”

  He frowned. “That’s no way to talk about someone who’s going to help us,” he said. “Even if she’s wearing a funny hat.”

  “No, Max. She’s a donkey—an ass.”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her, not comprehending, then his vision seemed to clear. His jaw dropped open, then snapped shut again. For the first time since he’d met this woman, he was shocked speechless by this unpredictable bombshell, and it took him a moment to speak.

  “A donkey? Damn, I’m losing it.” Sure enough, the woman had turned into a gray donkey with soft, brown eyes and the sweetest horse face he’d ever seen. The long ears had been poked through the cutouts in the hat.

  “There were several men moving a herd on the road, and I bought one to pull you faster. They even threw in a harness. I was told there’s a farm about a mile from here. That’s where we’re going. Hopefully, we can get a car, and I can drive you to the hospital.”

  She touched his forehead and the look on her face was alarming. “You’re burning up.” Then she went to light speed as she pulled his litter around, and he was lifted, then suspended into the air. Before he grasped that they were moving, he looked up at the blue sky, the pain clawing through him, and he drowned in the blue of the ocean.

  Renata pushed Luna as fast as the donkey could trot, looking back to make sure Jugs was keeping up. He was keeping up, li
mping a bit, but there was no time to waste. Max had an infection and he needed surgery. She pushed her exhausted body, her boots kicking up dust on the road, panting, her head throbbing from exertion in the heat. To her right, she saw the beginnings of a fence, then a dirt road that twisted back into the jungle.

  She led the donkey off the road onto the side lane and kept up her speed. Jugs padded along, panting, but still keeping up. The jungle opened to a large green field and dark brown slatted fencing, with grazing horses. In the distance she could make out a large orange grove. As she continued, she passed under a sign inscribed, “La Granja Roja.”

  A woman was tending to beds of gorgeous flowers and succulents. She turned at the sound of Luna’s hooves on the tan, terracotta, and tangerine flagstone driveway. Stopping the donkey short, Luna danced a bit sideways, then stood still.

  The woman rose, and a spill of dark hair from beneath the hat rippled across her back. She was dressed in a navy blue tank top and a pair of jeans. She ran over. “¿Lo que ha sucedido?” she asked in a worried voice.

  Renata replied to her in Spanish, explaining everything as fast as she could. “Do you have a car I can borrow?”

  The woman’s face fell. “No, my husband took the car, and he won’t be back for a week. I’m so sorry. I’ve been doing my rounds on horseback.”

  “Do you have a telephone?”

  “It’s not working. That happens sometimes after a storm. It can take a while for service to be restored. Cell phones also don’t work out here.”

  “Did you say your rounds?”

  “Yes, I’m a large animal veterinarian.”

  “Do you have facilities here?”

  “Yes, I have a full…” Her pretty blue eyes widened. “You want me to operate on him?”

  “No, I can do that. I’m a doctor.”

  She looked relieved. “Come this way.” She rushed away from the beautiful house toward a bright red barn to the right. Renata pulled Luna after her. The woman threw open the door and motioned Renata inside the brightly lit, fully modern barn. The donkey’s hooves hit the concrete with a clopping noise, and the litter scraped harshly.

  “Do you have an X-ray machine?”

  “I have all modern equipment. My husband supplied me fully. So, yes, I have an X-ray machine and a fully stocked operating room. He also built the house and the barn. I see patients here and do operations.”

  “You are a lifesaver.”

  She nodded and directed Renata down the wide corridor until she stopped in front of a big door. “Unhitch the litter and we’ll get him inside, then I can take care of your donkey. She needs water, and I have some alfalfa for her. I’ll be right back.”

  Renata undid the knots she’d used to attach the litter to the harness and dragged him through the open door. The woman took the bridle and led the donkey away.

  She took in the immaculate room, the two metal operating tables, the cabinets and machines and the hydraulic system overhead, and was close to tears.

  Jugs lay down on the cool concrete and watched her anxiously. He sensed his partner was in serious trouble. The woman came back moments later and flipped a switch and the room lit up with bright lights.

  “I’m Dr. Carolina Rojas.”

  “Dr. Renata Cavalcante.”

  “The table lowers, so we can roll him on. I can assist you. I don’t know human anatomy, but I sure know the basics of bleeders, suction, and sutures.” Renata pulled him to the first table, and Carolina hit a button on the side of the table, and it began to lower. “Comes in handy for goats and other heavy livestock,” she said.

  “That would be so amazing for you.” As soon as it was at floor level, she came around and helped Renata lift Max by the sleeping bag and transfer him to the table, then she went back to the control and the table started to rise. As soon as it was at the right height, the table stopped.

  “Let’s get him stripped down,” Carolina said. She went to a cabinet and pulled out a plain white sheet, then opened a drawer and removed two stethoscopes. She came back to the table. She bit her lip when they removed the sleeping bag, revealing his camouflage pants, but she didn’t say anything. “We can use propofol to keep him under. We’ll give him a lower dose which will induce sleep, and he can breathe on his own,” she said, offering her one of the stethoscopes, winding the other one around her neck.

  Renata asked, “Do you have any midazolam?”

  “Yes, I have that. You think that’s a better choice?”

  “Yes,” Renata said, taking a deep breath. “It will be much easier to keep him under with that drug combination. Without proper monitoring, too much propofol could be deadly.”

  “Okay, I’ll defer to you. I have an anesthetic machine that does that calculation for me.”

  Together they got his T-shirt off and Carolina dropped it into a container she had near the table, along with his boots and socks. Renata reached for his waistband and undid his pants, while Carolina carefully lifted his hips. Carolina pulled off both articles of clothing. Then she took a soft breath. “Wow,” she said. “I’m happily married, but…wow.”

  Renata had to agree with her. The man was ripped and endowed in all the right places from his wide chest, tight waist, lean hips, thick thighs, and well-defined calves. He even had beautifully formed feet. She tried not to look at his groin, but it was just too tantalizing. She had to completely agree with Carolina’s assessment. Wow.

  Carolina went to a sink and started running the water. She came back with a bucket and sponges. “Would you like me to shave him? I’m an expert,” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, please,” Renata said. Carolina got to work, then the two of them washed him thoroughly, taking special care around the wound area. As soon as they were done, Carolina unfolded the sheet and draped it over him. She walked to a steel cabinet and unlocked it, removing a couple of vials.

  “After my husband cut himself out in the field with a machete, I started stocking freeze-dried human plasma. I’ll get that all ready, do an IV, and start the midazolam. I have a digital X-ray machine.”

  “Blood pressure cuff?”

  “Yes, I had one I used on my dad before he died.”

  While Carolina was getting him prepped, Renata checked his blood pressure and was satisfied with the readings. She used the X-ray and immediately located the foreign matter in his body as well as the bullet. The damage was minimal. The bullet lodged in the skin of his waist just below his last rib, missing vital organs. She could see the rib was definitely cracked, but not broken. Thank God the bullet ricocheted away from his torso. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That’s a good sound.”

  “Yes, I’ve located what we need to remove and where. So less invasive.”

  “He’s all set,” she said. “We can get scrubbed up in here.” Carolina led her to a small room with two sinks, surgical gowns, gloves, and masks. Renata hadn’t done this in more years than she wanted to count. She’d quit medicine for a reason—not because of incompetence, but she just didn’t enjoy it. Her family had pushed her and pushed her, but when she realized it wasn’t what she wanted to do, she’d bailed and had never been happier. But Max’s life was on the line. She had suspected there was foreign matter in the wound, and it would need to be extracted. There would be damage, but a low-powered round would slow faster and definitely do a lot less damage.

  She scrubbed for two minutes, and Carolina helped her don the sterile scrubs, mask, and gloves, then dressed herself as best she could.

  “I disinfect the operating room after every surgery.” Her voice was muffled, but clear.

  Together, being careful not to touch anything, they walked back out to the operating room.

  Renata didn’t normally allow nerves to affect her performance. She’d always been steady and calm in a crisis. It was why she’d made an excellent doctor, but the thought of making a mistake here with Max made her nervous. She hadn’t brought him all this way to lose him. That was for damn sure.


  She took a steadying breath and walked up to the table. Carolina rolled over a steel table full of surgical tools, along with a suction machine.

  She looked down at his face, her heart doing that little skip she couldn’t seem to stop. “I’ve got you, Max.”

  4

  “Exactly why do you need to go?” Dodger asked, his voice like a crack of gunfire in the silence since she’d delivered her jaw-dropping answer.

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, her chin raised because apparently his voice was challenging and angry and Anna was pissed at him to begin with.

  Well, she could stew. He didn’t have to answer to her. He wasn’t rocking the boat with Max sitting there, judging every move Dodger made with his beautiful sister. But he knew Max’s reaction without ever having to see the big man in action. He would be off the bloody rails. Dodger would die inside if anything happened to Anna on his watch.

  “You’re all going to become National Geographic members with credentials. It will keep us incognito so we can search for Max.”

  “Bollocks!” Dodger said, and Fast Lane and 2-Stroke turned to look at him. Fear like he’d never felt before worked under his skin, the wound tearing and burning to anger. He drew in a lungful of air. “You’re not suited to go traipsing around in the jungle with who knows what hostiles we’ll encounter. This is a bloody cock-up!”

  “Dodger—” Fast Lane said in that steely voice no one on the team could ignore. Dodger ignored it. This was Anna’s life they were recklessly playing with.

  She held up her hand. “Like it or not, Petty Officer Graham, I’m your go-between for the men in black. Deal with it.”

  She tried to move around him, but he shifted to block her path. “This isn’t some photoshoot, Anna. This is life-in-danger, middle-of-nowhere, no-backup, physically challenging shit!”

  “This is the only way to go after Max, and I’ve been in some hairy situations. Don’t you judge what I do or what I’m capable of. I’m not going to refuse to help because this is dangerous. Max is out there, and this is a good plan. I can pull it off.”