SEALs of Summer: Military Romance Superbundle - Navy SEAL Style

by Sharon Hamilton

  But the guerillas out there were bottom-dwellers. They hadn’t gone through Hell Week in BUD/S training. They didn’t have hard-won Trident pins pounded into their chests. They didn’t risk their lives for their country, or justice, or freedom. The guerillas were nothing more than yellow-bellied mongrels who kidnapped women and children for ransom. Who does that shit? Worse, they’d hurt the love of his life.

  Mack wanted to rip their heads off.

  “B-2s, ETA?” Willy asked in the headset.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Charlie replied.

  “You guys cover me while I go in. Then get the hell out of here,” Mack ordered.

  “Hell no,” Tavon growled.

  Mack only moved his eyeballs toward Tavon. “Have Ty fly you all out of range until the air strike is over then come back and get me and Jenna. I’ll rescue her and the kids. We’ll go to ground if we can. It’s our only chance.”

  “Double hell no,” Willy said.

  “Triple to the hell no,” Charlie pitched in.

  Mack’s lip twitched. He knew that’s what they’d say. SEALs don’t leave team members behind. Ever. Even if their lieutenant commander orders them to. They were all going to stay put and see this thing to the fiery explosive end.

  Charlie pointed toward a wooden cabin that was hotly guarded. He held up three fingers.

  “Hostages?” Mack whispered into his headset.

  Charlie nodded and pointed toward the ground. All three hostages were on the floor. Good, maybe they’d be safe and clear of errant gunshots. Or did Charlie mean they were passed out on the floor? Injured? He swallowed hard and forced his insides to stop quivering.

  “Ready?” Mack asked.

  Before the others could respond, a commotion broke out in the CRAF camp. Two men started arguing and a shoving match began. One of the men pointed to the sky and hollered like a crazy man. Had he seen the B-2s? Sweet Mother, were the bombers already here?

  The man kept yelling and pointing at the sky. Suddenly, his terror got the best of him and he took off running from the group. The other guy didn’t say a word. He pulled a pistol out of the back of his pants and shot the runner in the back. The runner cried out, pulled up short, and landed in the dirt. He lay there twitching and begging for mercy. The shooter’s chest puffed up like a fighting cock’s. He stood over the downed man and put a bullet in his head.

  What in the hell was that about? The rest of the guerillas stood stock-still, as if waiting for…what? Why didn’t they move? React? Speak?

  Then it hit Mack. The shooter was CRAF’s leader—the big honcho himself. He obviously didn’t want any of his men to leave. He knew the bombs were coming and yet he still demanded his men to stay put and fight it out with B-2 Stealth Bombers. He was a total psycho.

  “Leader, oh twelve hundred,” Mack whispered.

  “Agreed,” Tavon replied.

  Mack’s blood went hot. Was this the guy who’d slapped Jenna? If not, he was the one who’d ordered it done. Mack looked through his Leupold ten-power scope and put the honcho in his cross hairs. It would be a pleasure to end the world of this filth.

  “Three, two, one, execute!” Mack ordered.

  He pulled the trigger and for the first time in his life, nothing happened. What the hell? The three hundred Win Mag jammed? It was a first. Shit, this day was getting better and better. The crack of gunfire went off all around him. The team was moving in, taking their shots. Guerilla rats scrambled.

  Through his scope, Mack saw that the leader was on the move. Mack didn’t hesitate. Pulling out his SIG SAUER P-226, he ran toward the fighting. He’d kill that honcho one way or the other and save the girl.

  Or die trying.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‡

  Gunfire shattered the jungle, coming close and closer to the shack where Jenna and the kids were being held. Guerillas? Cartel fighters? Jenna listened with all her might. An explosion went off and CRAF guerillas yelled. Another explosion. Rapid fire. It was chaos out there.

  She smiled.

  “Is it the Air Force?” Jacob whispered. It was clear the kid was terrified. “Are those the bombs?”

  It wasn’t the Air Force. It was Willy and his bag of tricks. “No. Those aren’t the bombs. My friends are out there and coming to rescue us. They are Navy SEALs.”

  “No way! Really?” All the worry evaporated from his voice.

  “Why would we be happy about stupid seals? I want the Air Force to fly us out of here. I want to go home!” Anna whined.

  “Not sea mammals, dummy. Navy SEALs—the toughest, baddest dudes in the military.”

  Jenna couldn’t fault that description. To her knowledge, they were also the sexiest, buffest, damnedest good looking men on the planet. And one of them in particular had her completely wrapped around his finger. And any other body part he wanted her to wrap around.

  “That’s right, Jacob. They’re coming to get us out of here, but to be safe we still need to take cover.”

  “Because of the bombs? If the SEALs are here, won’t the bombers turn around and go back?” Jacob asked. He was a smart kid.

  “No. The air strike is still on.” She had no idea how much time they had, but her gut said none.

  Hurry, Mack!

  *

  CRAF knew they were coming. That was the only explanation for how quickly the guerillas responded to the team’s attack.

  The guerillas either had good intel or just suspected this was how it would go down. Mack guessed the latter. After all the crap those guerillas had pulled, they had to know the U.S. military would come after them sooner or later. But there was no way in holy hell that they would ever have predicted how hard Mack and his guys were coming. This wasn’t just war. This was personal. Those CRAF sons of bitches had taken a team member and beat the shit out of her on television.

  They were going to pay hard.

  “Go! Go!” Mack ordered and the team spread out, firing as they went.

  Bullets flew at them right and left. The team kept moving.

  CRAF bodies added up, but those who stayed alive kept firing rifles, handguns, semiautomatics of every shape and size. Mack could tell by the snap, snap that went off around his head, that there were a couple of submachine guns in the mix too. Those bad boys fired subsonic rounds that traveled faster than the speed of sound. It was as if someone was clapping sharply in his ears.

  Mack aimed, fired, dropped a man, and repeated. Over and over. He didn’t slow, didn’t stop. Everything around him was a blur of bullets, screaming, and death. The guerillas kept firing their shit at him, and he kept punishing them for it.

  “Mack! Oh three hundred!” Tavon yelled.

  He turned in time to see five guerillas lock and loading behind a truck. Tavon took out one of them—that left hand of his was turning out to be pretty damned accurate—but the other four hostiles were still actively firing. They had AK-47s and a rocket-propelled grenade. Mack tried his long-range three hundred Win Mag again. This time it worked. He hit his target and the man holding the RPG was dead on his feet. A second after his body hit the ground one of his guerilla buddies picked up the RPG and aimed it at them again. Son of a bitch! Mack took aim.

  Willy lobbed special grenade magic from his bag of tricks. The truck exploded. Three guerillas went airborne in a fiery blast, just like in the movies.

  “Nice,” Charlie said.

  “Some of my good stuff. I’m saving the best shit for the end. You know, the grand finalé,” Willy gloated.

  Mack put a bullet between the last guy’s eyes before he had a chance to launch his grenades. “Where’s the head honcho?” During the truck blast he’d lost sight of the leader.

  “Don’t know, brother. I lost him too,” Tavon said.

  “I believe he’s….” Charlie used his computer. “There. I’ve got him. He went inside the wood cabin. One figure standing inside the door, three curled up in the east corner on the floor. Scratch that. Two now standing. Close together. Looks like—”
He gazed up and all Mack could see was the anguish on his face.

  “What! Dammit, what do you see?”

  “It looks like he’s using Jenna as a human shield.”

  Mack was running before his mind registered that the soles of his boots were hitting the ground. Bullets were still flying at him. He zigged and zagged, shooting as he pounded through the dirt and brush.

  “Wait, we…need to think…this through.” Tavon was running behind him, shooting between words. “Don’t go in alone.”

  Explosions were firing off too. His guys would have to handle CRAF back there without him. There was no time to plan. No time to think. Jenna needed him. Now.

  *

  Someone opened the door to the cabin and stepped inside. From the sound of his shoes on the floor, he moved quickly and was agitated.

  “Not him,” Anna whimpered. “Please. No. He’s the bad one.”

  “Stay away from us!” Jacob demanded.

  What was going on? Jenna wished for the hundredth time that she wasn’t blindfolded.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  Instead of an answer, someone grabbed her elbow and yanked her to her feet.

  “Hey! Ow!” Jenna squealed.

  “Let go of her!” The sound of a struggle behind her meant the Jacob made a movement toward the bad guys.

  “Jacob, no!” Anna squealed. “They all listen to him. Don’t make him mad.”

  Were they hurting Jacob? She elbowed and kicked the man holding her, struggling with all her might to break free.

  “Stop. I will kill you,” a man snarled in English. He savagely pinched her arm.

  She froze. The kids went silent.

  “Listen, let them go,” Jenna pleaded. “Please. They’re just children.”

  Fingers gripped her chin, digging into her jaw. “Shut up, mujer!”

  Was he the leader? What was he going to do with her? Oh, God. Anna said he was the bad one. How much worse could he be than the ones who had smacked her around?

  Her heart pounded. She wished she could see the monster. She had half a mind to kick him in the shins, but knew she didn’t dare, not with the kids to worry about. She held still, listening with all her might for auditory clues. Why was this guy here? What did he want?

  “You come with me.” The man started yanking her across the floor.

  “No!” Anna and Jacob both yelled. “Don’t go!”

  She didn’t want to leave the kids. She pushed back against him and dragged her feet. The man heaved, grunted, and called her every dirty Spanish word she’d ever heard, plus more. He seemed surprised that she was strong enough to make it difficult to move her. Really, creep? Is this the best you’ve got? She smiled. Yoga, swimming, kick boxing, and weight training kept her in shape. She was strong. This guy seemed to be flabby and was easily winded. She pulled her lips up in a snarl and elbowed him in the ribs.

  It must have been the smile that infuriated him.

  She didn’t see the blow coming. The leader of the CRAF guerrillas punched her in the stomach, knocking the air out of her lungs. She doubled over trying to breathe, but nothing happened. Fear set in. Only one other time she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her.

  When she was seven she swung on the monkey bars in the small backyard on the base. Pretending to be a great gymnast, her hand slipped off and she landed flat on her back with air exploding from her lips. She couldn’t breathe and thought she’d die right there. If she died, who’d take care of her mother? Who’d pray for Daddy to come home safe from the battlefield? Who would find her dead body?

  Her burning lungs felt like they did when she was seven years old, only this time a maniac was yanking her by the hair while she tried to breathe. And two kids screamed behind her. They could die if she didn’t protect them.

  The man laughed. A horrible, scary laugh that sent shivers up her spine as he dragged her toward the door.

  “See, mujer? Better to do as I say.” His voice blew into her ear, causing an involuntary shudder to crawl up her sweaty back. “Have you learned your lesson yet?”

  Jenna had a bad feeling the lesson wasn’t over. She might not live through the rest of it. She gulped air trying to move oxygen in and out of her lungs.

  The door opened.

  Air rushed across on her damp body and tugged at the tank top and panties that were sticking to her skin. Shock made her suck in a big breath and got her lungs working right again. The musky smell of the jungle came in with the blast of air. She caught another odor—metallic and thick—that threatened to flip her stomach. Blood. Outside, the screaming and the unmistakable sound of gunfire and grenades didn’t end.

  The creep came to a jerky halt. Moving behind her, he snaked his arm around her neck. “Stay back! Or she dies.”

  The cold pressure against her temple could only be one thing—once again she had a gun to her head.

  Jenna didn’t have to be told what was going on. She knew who had come through the door.

  “Mack.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‡

  It was Mack’s worse nightmare—Jenna, blindfolded and nearly naked, trembling in the arms of a killer holding a gun to her head. In the back of his mind he kept thinking about those bombs. If they dropped right now, this second, would the honcho’s trigger finger twitch? Would he watch Jenna die? The kids were crying in the corner.

  “Hi, babe. Just sit tight, don’t move. This thing is almost over.” He focused through the scope of the Sig 226 that he pointed at the assailant’s head.

  “I knew you’d come for me,” she said softly.

  His heart twisted into a knot. “Of course I did. You okay?”

  “Yes, but I’m ready to leave this rat hole.” Jenny flinched as the assailant threaded his fingers through her hair and yanked her head backward.

  Mack’s finger twitched on the trigger. “Release her. Now!”

  The man shook his head. “I have a better idea. You leave.”

  Mack cocked his gun. “I’m not screwing around with you. Let her go!” Dammit! He was seeing red and tilting dangerously into the out of control zone. He had to calm down. Jenna’s life depended on him handling this situation right. If his heart rate rose any higher, it would affect his shooting accuracy. In close quarters like this, he couldn’t afford to miss.

  “And if I don’t?” Honcho grinned. “She is your woman, no? You don’t like the way I touch her?” The honcho ran his left hand up Jenna’s side and cupped her breast.

  “Get your hands off me, creep!”

  The bastard was messing with Mack’s head, trying to unnerve him and make him do something stupid. Or maybe he was buying time while his guerilla backup surrounded the cabin. Whatever the case, Mack couldn’t fall into the trap.

  “You heard her. Let her go now, and I won’t make you eat your own balls.”

  “Go to hell, American pig!” Honcho snarled.

  You first, you slimy piece of shit. Mack took a deep breath and forced his heart rate back down. Focus. Relax. “Listen, man. You are completely surrounded. It’s over. Drop the gun.”

  “Leave. Or I put a bullet in her brain. And then I will shoot the young ones!” The man motioned toward the kids huddling in the corner.

  “No! Do as he says!” Anna cried out.

  “Be quiet, Anna,” Jacob whispered.

  Mack couldn’t be distracted by the kids or the terrified whimper that came from Jenna’s lips. “I’m going to say it again. Drop. Your. Weapon.”

  Honcho yanked Jenna even closer. “Shoot me, and you kill your mujer.”

  Mack took a long look at Jenna. His strong, brave girl was so fragile, so completely out of control, in the hands of a madman. But worse than that. She was in his hands too, wasn’t she? He didn’t have a clean shot and couldn’t pull the trigger. How would he live with himself if he shot his beloved Jenna? He’d never survive it. Well, he’d only survive a second. Then he’d turn his weapon on himself. This trip to South America had taught him ma
ny things. Not the least of those was that he was still madly in love with the admiral’s daughter. He’d learned the hard way. There was no living without her. He wasn’t going to try.

  Mack lowered his weapon.

  “Kick your gun to me and get over there. Face to the wall!” Honcho ordered.

  *

  Wait. What was going on? It sounded like…no. “Mack! Don’t surrender!”

  “It’s okay, babe.”

  “No, it’s not. Don’t you dare give up your weapon. He’ll kill you.”

  “There are worse things than to be dead. I can’t risk hurting you.” Mack’s voice was soft. She could hear his sadness and anguish. Something clattered to the floor. His gun!

  “Against the wall!” the creep ordered.

  “Please, don’t hurt him.” Her insides shattered. The man she loved with all her heart was about to be murdered. She whimpered. The guy would surely turn the gun on her next. They’d both be dead in a matter of minutes.

  And then she heard it, a soft click. It didn’t surprise her that the creep didn’t know what was coming. Her senses were becoming more and more acute. Her hearing especially was getting better every minute that she was blindfolded. And if the creep didn’t hear it…Hope flickered way down deep. It was a plan, a risky one, but one she was prepared to die for.

  “Count to three, Mack,” she ordered.

  “Shut up!” the creep elbowed her in the spine. “On your knees, pig.”

  “Count, Mack. Please, just do it.”

  “One, two, three—” His voice was muffled. His face must have been against the wall.

  “Execute!” she finished and slammed her head backward as hard as she could, head butting the creep in the nose. He roared in pain and she saw stars. He squeezed tighter, but she was still able to duck. A single shot rang out through the crack in the door. Something zipped past her cheek. She braced for the creep’s bullet to lodge in her brain, but instead his weight pulled off and away from her. There was a sickening thump when the creep’s skull hit the floor behind her.