SEALs of Summer: Military Romance Superbundle - Navy SEAL Style

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Good, ’cuz Dad said I could send you a lizard from the islands. They sneeze salt water out their noses. Do you think they shoot blood out of their eyes too? That’d be cool.”

  “What?” She bolted up. Blood nearly shot out of her own eyes at the impending international incident. “Jacob, tell your dad that the animals on the Galapagos Islands are endangered. No touching.”

  “All right.” He sounded bummed. “No salty-snot lizard. But what about a penguin—?”

  A loud crash cut him off. The screech of tires and subsequent crunching of metal and glass made Jenna death-grip the phone. A series of loud pops exploded through her ear piece.

  “Kat! Pull up the satellite.” She punched a button to put the call on speaker and cranked it up so that Kat could listen, too.

  “He’s been shot!” It was Andrew’s wife, Marcella. Her normally silky voice grated like nails on glass.

  Shot? Who? Jenna grabbed her cell phone and called her man who was supposed to be tailing the family out of the market. “Roberto! What’s going on?”

  “Don’t know. The driver went off course. Luis, Franco, and I are on the way now.”

  “Hurry! It sounds like they’re being robbed.” The screeching of tires drowned out Roberto’s next words. “Jacob! Can you hear me? I need you to tell me what’s happening. What can you see?”

  Jacob didn’t answer.

  A man coughed in the background, a wet, choking sound. The driver she had hired mumbled, “Gunmen… They…are…CRAF.”

  Jenna’s heart went cold. The Colombian Revolutionary Armed Forces, or CRAF, was a guerilla militant group notorious for kidnapping the rich for ransom. The Harmonds were in serious danger.

  “OhGodohGod. Is he dead?” Marcella shouted while young Anna screamed over and over, making it impossible for Jenna to decipher what was happening.

  “Holy Lord, Jenna, what’s going on?” Kat pounded computer keys, trying to get a satellite lock on the family’s location. Her blue eyes were wide with fear. Straight out of college, Kat had never been in a crisis at EXtreme Adventures before. Jenna had been involved with a few doozies but nothing like this.

  Breathing sounds, fast and shallow, came through the phone followed by a whisper, “Men with guns. All around us.”

  “Jacob?”

  “I’ve got satellite!” Kat called.

  Jenna raced to Kat’s desk. She had to see, had to know. More loud pops followed a series of military-style Spanish commands that had her heart jackhammering her chest.

  “They’re surrounded.” Kat pointed at the grainy picture on her monitor. “Three cars. All unmarked.”

  “Who are you?” Andrew’s voice exploded out of the speaker. “What do you want? Take your hands off me!”

  More shouting and gunfire.

  “Roberto! Are your men there yet?” Jenna’s cell phone threatened to slip out of her sweaty hands.

  “We don’t see them, Jenna.”

  “Dammit!” She looked at Kat. “Our helicopter. Can we get it there in time?”

  Kat shook her head, nervously chewing her thumbnail. “Half an hour at best to get it in the air.”

  “Call the police in Ecuador on your cell. Give them the satellite coordinates. Tell them to hurry!”

  “Let go of me!” Marcella wailed.

  “Touch her again and I’ll—!” Andrew’s commands were cut off when three large men slammed him up against the car. As he fought back, Jenna scanned the satellite feed. Where were Roberto and the others?

  “The policia are on the way.” Kat’s voice had a tremor to it, but Jenna didn’t glance her way. She couldn’t take her eyes off the monitor as if looking away would break the connection. And she’d lose them.

  Anna screeched bloody murder when her little figure was yanked out of the car.

  Don’t think about a thirteen-year-old girl in the hands of guerillas. Focus! Squinting hard at the scene, she tried to make out every dot, every figure. The satellite feed blinked and was intermittently delayed. Jenna bent over the computer screen, willing the horror to stop.

  A gun went off and a body slumped forward. No! They shot Andrew Harmond! They didn’t kill him. She wouldn’t let it be true.

  The men dragged him and tossed him into one of the unmarked cars. It sped away from the picture, getting lost under a thick canopy of trees.

  Jacob’s deep breathing shuddered over the phone. “They grabbed Mom and Dad. Anna.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and made her voice as calm as she could. “Listen to me. They’re going to grab you too, Jacob—”

  “No! I don’t want to go.” His cries ripped through her.

  “They’re going to grab you too. But I’m coming. I promise. I’ll get you out of there.”

  The line went dead. Helplessly, she watched the last two cars on the satellite image disappear into the jungle. Seven minutes later, Roberto and his men arrived. Twenty minutes after that the Ecuadorian police showed up.

  They were all too late.

  *

  Mack’s legs itched to scout a perimeter, his eyes longed for night-vision goggles, his fists desperately needed to rearrange something—preferably a bad guy’s face—and his gut…He patted his belly. Shit, his gut was huge. He needed action and combat, not this sitting-at-a-desk torture.

  The phone rang.

  Some little old lady probably lost a cat again. A guy might think finding missing persons (and cats) was a perfect job for a Navy SEAL on extended leave. That guy would have to be thinking out of his quickly spreading ass. He’d also have to give a shit about cats. This job just wasn’t him. He was Lieutenant Commander Mack Riley, Gold Knight, premier assault expert, and a leader of warriors who had real balls and guts and would die for one another. DEVGRU, commonly known as SEAL Team Six, was more than a job—it was the skin that fit him perfectly, in all the right places.

  He was on extended leave due to a blowout with the Commanding Officer. The CO was not exactly thrilled to catch two of Mack’s guys in bed with his daughter during an overnight in Kuwait. Mack tried to reason with the CO but instead got a verbal thrashing for not keeping his men on a tighter leash and the entire team got a “vacation” out of the deal.

  Shit, he hated being inactive. Once his term was up, he’d re-up again. He couldn’t wait to get back out there.

  The phone rang again.

  His squadron nicknamed him Riles because he never got riled about anything—not organizing covert strikes, combat, hostage rescues—it was all good. But now? After coming home because of a bunch of political bull crap he had no role in, he was pissed off. His skin felt too tight, especially around the ass.

  Another ring.

  He grabbed the phone. “What!”

  “Uh, Mack? Mack Riley?”

  “Speaking. What’d you lose, lady? Your purse? A cheating husband? Fur-ball?”

  There was a long pause. Too long. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to go for a ten-mile run, pound the punching bag in the garage, or get a life.

  “Mack?” The way the caller softly repeated his name turned a screw in his gut. A long spike-covered screw.

  He bolted to his feet. “Jenna?”

  “I need you.”

  It was as if a cold hand grabbed his balls and twisted. Jenna Collins?

  “Are you there?”

  Barely. “What do you want?”

  There was a pause. She’d heard the anger in his voice. Good.

  She let out a breath. “My clients from the travel agency are missing in Colombia. CRAF took them hostage. Do you know who CRAF are?”

  That’s why she was calling? Troubles at her job? It was pretty ironic given their history. “Of course I know who they are.”

  “I figured you would. I’ve contacted the Chief of Police and Mayor in Quito, the U.S. Embassy in Ecuador, the Red Cross in South America, and a missing persons hotline in South America. No one seems to be able to help.”

  “And?”

  “The U.S. gover
nment won’t get involved, either. Something is going on behind the scenes. Political crap that could get my clients killed. The administration said they can’t send in the SEALs yet, but they won’t say why.”

  “And?”

  She groaned. “And I need your help, Mack. Please. It’s a family with two young children. We have to get them out of there!”

  We? “So pay the ransom when CRAF call. It’s not that hard, Jenna.” He was being heartless, but he couldn’t help himself. His insides were a ball of hot electric wires. She’d virtually gut-shot him and left him for dead. How could she expect his services now?

  “That’s just it. There’s been no ransom call. Nothing. Total silence. I’m starting to think they took Andrew Harmond for another reason. But then…” she paused. “They shot him, Mack. I saw it on the satellite feed. His body hunched over, dragged away…” Her voice choked with horror. “What if he’s dead? What will happen to little Jacob and his sister? Will they kill the whole family?”

  Something inside him responded to the sadness and fear he heard. Shut it down, Riles! He couldn’t go there. He squashed the feeling immediately. “Billionaire Andrew Harmond is your client? Trust me, it’s all about the money. CRAF will call. Pay the ransom and you’ll get your clients back. Good-bye, Jenna.”

  “Wait! You won’t help me?”

  “Shit, no. Why don’t you call your daddy?” It was a cheap shot, but he hung up anyway.

  He sat motionless for a few seconds, and then he picked up the phone and slammed it down again three times. He hoped he broke the damned thing. Her clients were missing? Who friggin’ cared? Not him. After the butt-load of silence—no letter, no postcard, nada—she’d called out of the blue. Was he supposed to jump up and do her bidding? Hell, no. She’d have to get someone else to find her lost family because he wouldn’t touch this missing persons case with an IED.

  The phone rang again. Crap, it still worked. Maybe if he threw it against the wall… Fire flicked behind his eyeballs as he snatched the receiver. “I said no, Jenna! Find some other sorry-assed shmuck—”

  “I knew she’d call you.” The deep voice rolled with a Southern gentleman’s twang. “It had to be one of us, and Jenna is too stubborn to call her old man for help.”

  “Admiral Collins?”

  “You are helping my daughter with this fiasco. Isn’t that correct, Lieutenant Commander Riley?”

  Mack pinched the stress headache burning between his eyes.

  “The girl is stubborn and handles things her way. Always been the case. She’s independent and mighty proud. Even before her mother passed…” The admiral sucked in a breath through his teeth as if talking about his wife’s death still punched him in the balls. “…even before, Jenna demanded to be in charge. But my little girl has no idea how bad this thing is going to get in Colombia.”

  “What do you mean?” He didn’t bother asking how the admiral knew what Jenna had told him. He learned a long time ago that the admiral had eyes and ears all over the damned world. And the NSA had access to phone conversations. Nothing surprised him.

  “Civil war is breaking out over there between CRAF and the drug cartels over cocaine rights. It’s a bloody turf war that’s going to get a whole lot bloodier. Jenna’s right about behind the scenes politics in the works. She doesn’t know the worst of it. No one does. Yet.”

  Intrigued, Mack sat up straighter. What could be worse than a billionaire and his family taken hostage by militant guerillas? “What’s happening, sir?”

  The admiral chuckled. “That’s need to know, son.”

  Mack rolled his eyes. Just like the brass to clutch information tight and hard against the chest, dragging out just enough bits and pieces to keep men fighting and dying for a cause.

  “Right now all you need to know is that Jenna is my life. I’ll do everything in my power to protect her. Understand? Get in there and offer your advice, son, whether she wants it or not. There must be dozens of ways to rescue the Harmonds from those damned guerillas. Head up the team, go to Colombia yourself, and do whatever works for you, but keep her safe until this is all over. And for God’s sake, do not let her leave this country.”

  Every curse word Mack knew rolled through his brain. He clenched his teeth. “Is that an order, sir?”

  “Let’s just say that I could talk to a certain Commanding Officer on your behalf. I hear he is threatening to bench your whole team for a very long time. Let’s imagine eternity, shall we?”

  Mack groaned.

  “I bet you’d like to get back out there sooner than later. Am I right?”

  Blackmail! The sonofabitch would probably call it “dangling a carrot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This feels like old times, son. Similar shit, same team members. You should get a better group of friends. Do we have an understanding?”

  Mack ground his molars. “She won’t listen to me.”

  “At least she’s talking to you. It’s a good start. I wouldn’t tell her that you and I had this conversation, though, unless you want a wildcat with a burning tail on your hands.”

  Mack knew exactly what the admiral meant. He’d seen that little kitty in action and had the scratches to prove it.

  “Good luck, Lieutenant Commander.”

  He’d need more than luck.

  Jenna Collins didn’t get to yank his chain, not anymore. That ship had exploded into thousands of pieces eighteen months ago, sinking his heart with it. But the quiver in her voice when she said she needed him was…intriguing.

  Jenna didn’t need anyone, especially not him. She’d made that as clear as a nuclear explosion. The Jenna Collins he’d known wasn’t afraid of anything, not her tough-as-nails admiral father, and certainly not him. It was one of the things he loved about her. Dammit! Had loved about her.

  Chain yank.

  If he had any sense, he’d run like hell, but the admiral’s promise to rescind the extended leave order in exchange for helping Jenna couldn’t be ignored. He also needed to understand why Jenna had called him for help. That was a first. The softness in her voice had stirred up memories. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her long curls dripped through his fingers like golden honey before fanning across his sheets. He could almost smell her soft skin and feel her lips blazing a hot trail down his belly before taking him in her mouth, so perfectly he didn’t know where he ended and she began.

  She needs me? Grinning, he headed toward enemy lines.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Zoom in. Zoom out. The satellite images on Jenna’s monitor didn’t miraculously produce a road, a trail, or any damn clue about CRAF’s whereabouts. Somewhere in that impossibly thick vegetation, CRAF had a home base. They couldn’t simply disappear into the jungle.

  “What did the senator say? Is he willing to help us?”

  Kat rubbed her eyes, exhausted. They both were. It had been one long hairy day. “Which one?”

  “Tonell. The guy who graduated from Vassar with Andrew Harmond. Duncan talked to him this morning. Tell me the senator’s going to help us.”

  “Last I heard, he said he’d get back to us.”

  “He’d better. What about the field crew? Anything new there?” Jenna had called all the packers and guides she knew in South America.

  “They’re working on it, Jenna. It might take a little time for the word to get out.”

  “We don’t have time! Why won’t anyone help us?”

  “Because there’s a war on, and no one wants to get shot?” Kat asked sheepishly.

  Jenna had never felt so out of control in her life. Time clicked by without any real results, and no one seemed to be able to do anything. In the meantime, CRAF and cartels had started shooting each other in what the journalists had dubbed the Coke War. Bombs were going off in Cali and Bogota with the Harmonds right in the middle of all that mess. It was insane! Jenna didn’t do sit back and wait. She didn’t do helpless, either. Planning, problem solving, conquering—those were he
r M.O.s. This day threatened to destroy her.

  She needed to get Jacob and his family out of there before they were hurt. She needed…

  Oh, God, Mack Riley.

  The thought made all the blood rush to her toes. She missed every inch of his lean, tanned, sexy body. But Mack was mulish, strong-willed, and selfish. He’d rather make her suffer for her sins than rescue her clients.

  She pounded her desk. “Fine. I’ll save them myself!”

  “You’ll get them out of Colombia?” Kat raised her thin eyebrows. “All by yourself? In the middle of a war?”

  “I have to.” She’d do whatever it took to save the Harmonds. She had promised Jacob. Her eyes flooded with unshed tears.

  “Yeah, I’m thinking it’s time for a break. And food! I’m starving, aren’t you? I’ve got a few granola bars in the car. Want one?” Kat was already moving toward the hallway on a mission to stop her boss’s waterworks.

  Not trusting her voice to answer, she nodded. She hadn’t eaten all day and was feeling shaky. Had Jacob eaten anything? Was he still alive? She was tired and an emotional wreck. Kat’s heels clicked down the hallway.

  You are the boss of your life. You control the outcome. Jenna mentally replayed the self-help CD she listened to before bed and in the car. Nothing worked. No matter how hard she fought them, the tears leaked out anyway. Dammit, crying at work? Unacceptable. But she couldn’t stop any more than she could reach out and strangle a CRAF guerilla with her bare hands.

  Plopping down in the middle of the floor, she sunk her head between her legs and tried to take deep-belly yoga breaths to staunch the flow of tears. It didn’t work. She covered her face with her hands and berated herself for losing control.

  Footsteps came toward her. Kat was back. She was too embarrassed to remove her hands from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  A deep voice rolled over her. “It’s a start.”

  Two hands encircled her arms and lifted her to her feet. The world was a soggy, blurry mess, but she’d recognize that incredibly handsome face anywhere. The strong jaw, full lips, and piercing blue eyes all made regular guest appearances in her dreams and played active roles in her fantasies. The scar on his chin, however, was new.