“Tomorrow we have a night shoot. What about the night after that? We can make it a working dinner.”
“I guess that would be okay,” Sienna began, still hesitant over the idea of being out with Adam, even if it was work related.
He didn’t give her the chance to reconsider, pouncing on the opening. “Great. I’ll see you later.”
Sienna watched him turn and walk away, already regretting her decision.
* * *
A helicopter ride to Norfolk, a flight to Italy, and now another flight to take them to their final destination in Abolstan, a country known for its hostilities toward Americans. Craig thought Brent had been joking when he’d told him to catch as much sleep as he could on the flight over the Atlantic, but that had literally been their only downtime since their meeting with Admiral Mantiquez yesterday.
Three missing American doctors had been the catalyst for the briefing. What had started as a goodwill gesture by a group of medical personnel working in Turkey had turned deadly when a band of rebels had crossed the border from Abolstan. A nurse had been killed during the brief skirmish, and two others had been injured. Latest intelligence indicated the missing three doctors were still alive, but no one was sure how long their captors would keep them that way.
The news had barely hit the airways before the navy had devised a plan of action. Craig could hardly believe it had been less than twenty-four hours since they had shipped out, his time in Virginia now feeling like a fading dream. An image of Sienna flashed in his mind, but a signal from Brent forced him to push it aside.
The high-altitude, high-opening parachute jump would take all of his concentration. Now that the two-minute warning had been issued, he and his teammates switched over to their oxygen tanks, checking, double-checking, and triple-checking their equipment. The gear strapped to his back and his weapon at his side made it difficult to get comfortable. Then again, he doubted comfortable was a word many SEALs truly understood after joining the teams. As the seconds ticked down, they all stood in preparation for their jump that would initiate from 28,000 feet.
Craig took his place in the middle of the line. He knew he had been placed there deliberately because he was the least experienced in the group. The first two of his teammates would have the responsibility of guiding them the forty miles to their landing site and ensuring the site was clear of enemy presence. The last two would have the challenge of making sure they were able to follow the rest of their teammates in while also ensuring that no one had any trouble during their descent.
Besides the danger posed by the enemy, he and his squad first had to battle the possibility of hypoxia and decompression sickness that could occur from a potential lack of oxygen or an inability to regulate it during the jump.
One of the crewmen on the plane opened the door, his face also covered by a breathing mask. A blast of cold air filled the compartment, and Craig reminded himself to keep his breathing slow and steady. Seth gave Craig’s shoulder a squeeze, a silent signal that he had his back.
Dozens of details ran through his mind, the various instructions that had been drilled into his head while in SEAL training and the anticipation of what would come next. The next signal came, and Tristan stepped out into the darkness of night, followed immediately by Quinn. One by one they jumped, with Craig fourth in line.
He stepped free of the aircraft, counted off five seconds, and popped his parachute open. Instantly the straps jerked hard against his shoulders, and he tried not to think of the soreness that would remain there over the next few days. Instead, he activated his GPS as he joined his teammates on what would be a nearly hour-long descent, a ride that would hopefully allow them to silently insert behind enemy lines while the aircraft that had dropped them would continue on undetected.
15
Sienna pressed herself against the outside wall of the office building, the shadows of the nearby streetlight coming within feet of her position. She let herself believe someone inside was really in danger and that their life depended on her.
The director would show clips of the guards inside, most of their efforts focused on the main entrances instead of the window she would use to make her way inside. She looked to the right and then to the left before she crept forward, coming to a stop below a window that was slightly ajar.
Her fingers gripped the sill, and she placed one foot against the side of the building to prepare for her climb. She pulled herself up enough to peer through the pane, holding an expression that revealed both curiosity and concern.
“Cut!” the director called out. To her relief, he added, “And print.”
Sienna relaxed her body, letting her foot drop firmly back to the ground. The next scene, beginning with her climbing through the window, wouldn’t be shot for a couple more days. After three takes with this scene, she was relieved she could leave it behind and focus on the next one.
“That’s it for tonight,” Marcus announced. “Make sure you have your call times for tomorrow before you leave.”
The woman assigned as Sienna’s assistant stepped forward. “I already have that for you, Miss Blake.”
“Thank you, Toni.” Sienna took the paper Toni offered her and read through the shoot schedule, her emotions mixed when she saw her call time wasn’t until nine. She checked Adam’s and saw that he would report at the same time.
The idea of sleeping in past five in the morning was appealing, but she hoped Adam wouldn’t see the later call time as an excuse to draw out their dinner together.
She saw George approaching and said to Toni, “I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“I will. Thanks, Toni.” Sienna joined George and started toward their car. What she wouldn’t give to be able to go back to her room and fall face-first into bed. She sighed.
“Are you ready for your date tonight?” George asked after they were both in the car.
“Not really, and it’s not a date.”
George cast her a sidelong glance. “Is something going on between you and that Navy SEAL?”
“Maybe.” Sienna’s shoulders lifted. “It’s hard to know where we stand since he had to ship out.”
“How long until he gets back?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, and I’d love to know the answer to it.”
* * *
Craig stood at the edge of a side street a short distance from the local restaurant. He pretended to ponder the specials scrawled on a board near the entrance as he really watched the foot traffic on the street.
The strip of businesses in downtown Khalar bustled with activity. Women with hijabs and niqabs carried baskets filled with food, fabric, and other goods traded in this part of town. Two businessmen holding briefcases emerged from an office across the street, and some kind of tradesman loaded tools into the back of his truck.
The location they were most interested in was three doors down. That was where intelligence believed local mercenaries were holding the three American hostages.
“What do you see?” Craig asked Quinn through his lightweight headset, unnerved by his lack of visibility of the target.
“Two men guarding the front entrance,” Quinn said in his typical no-nonsense tone. “Brent, what does the back look like?”
“One guard in the back. With the way he’s staggering, I think he may have spent the afternoon bending his elbow instead of worrying about who else was in the alley.”
“An armed drunk can be unpredictable. We might be better off trying for a front-door approach.” Seth’s Southern drawl sounded through the earpiece.
“Unless I disarm the guy in back first,” Damian said.
“You sound like you have a plan,” Brent responded. “Care to share?”
“Did I ever mention that one of my uncles was an alcoholic who liked to carry his revolver everywhere he went?”
“I remember the drunk uncle but not the armed part,” Se
th replied.
“Watch and learn.”
“Be careful,” Brent cautioned before giving him the go-ahead to follow through with his plans. “Craig, shift to the alley in case he needs backup.”
“On it.” Craig strolled a few steps to the edge of the sidewalk and turned the corner. He fought the urge to quicken his pace, forcing himself to do the opposite as he reached the back of the building.
He came to a stop and took a quick peek around the corner to identify the guard’s current location. “I’m in position,” Craig said quietly. “The guard’s heading away from me.”
Damian’s voice sounded through his earpiece once more. “When I tell you, step out into the alleyway and start toward him. Ask him a question or wave at him. Anything to get his attention for a minute.”
“Roger that. Standing by.”
Craig edged out of sight, his heartbeat quickening. The thought of Damian approaching an armed man out in the open was unnerving, as was his role as the distraction. What if the guard felt threatened and pulled his gun before Damian disarmed him? Craig pushed those doubts aside, reminding himself that they trained for situations like this. He trusted Damian, and he knew Brent and his assault rifle were hidden out of sight on the roof above them.
“Now.” Damian’s voice was quiet and firm.
Craig rounded the corner, a little surprised at how slow the guard was to notice him. Apparently he had been drinking his afternoon away. At the edge of his peripheral vision, Craig saw Damian angling toward him from the other direction. When the guard finally looked up, Craig said one of the few phrases he knew in Arabic: “Excuse me.”
The guard staggered a step toward him, his focus now completely on Craig. Damian’s pace quickened, and he deliberately bumped into the larger man.
“Sorry,” Damian said. Through the earpiece, Craig could hear Brent coaching him in Arabic how to say, “Didn’t see you.”
The guard grumbled for a minute before brushing off Damian’s presence and focusing again on Craig.
“Craig, speak to him in French now. That’ll throw him off long enough for you to take him down.”
Craig complied, switching to one of the languages he was proficient in. “Excusez-moi.”
Sure enough, the man’s eyes seemed to blur with confusion. He reached inside his jacket, his confusion increasing when he apparently didn’t find what he was looking for.
“Looking for this?” Damian asked from the edge of the alley. He held up the gun he had apparently lifted from the man’s pocket.
The man’s attention shifted again, and Craig used his close proximity and a right cross to send the man tumbling to the ground. Though he remained conscious, he was too stunned to let out a cry of warning.
Damian rushed forward as Craig clamped a hand over the man’s mouth. A moment later, Damian injected a sedative into the guard’s arm, and the man slumped to the ground.
“Back is clear,” Damian announced.
“Secure the guard,” Brent ordered. “Seth and Jay, get into position. Tristan and I will come in through the upstairs windows.”
“Almost there,” Jay responded.
“Wait for my signal,” Brent commanded.
Craig secured the guard’s hands, surprised that his own hands were steady. They had bypassed their first obstacle, but the challenges would only become more difficult as they moved closer to their objective.
16
Sienna crossed the third-floor lobby and headed for the hotel restaurant. She was surprised to see Adam sitting in one of the chairs by the entrance, one leg crossed over the other, his agent seated beside him and his bodyguards hovering nearby. She was ten minutes early and hadn’t pegged Adam for the type to be so prompt.
She approached him, noticing the man by a far window with a camera in hand. She had hoped her dinner with Adam would go unnoticed, but apparently that hope wouldn’t be fulfilled.
Adam and his agent stood as she approached, George taking his usual position a short distance behind her.
“Sienna, you know Murray, don’t you?”
“Yes. He used to represent Carter Wells.”
“That was some time ago,” Murray said, extending his hand to shake hers. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.” She motioned to the restaurant. “Are you joining us for dinner?”
“No, no. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” Sienna said.
“I was actually hoping to chat with the two of you for a minute before you eat though.”
“Oh? About what?”
“The Oscars.” He motioned for Sienna to take a seat. She lowered herself into a chair, and Murray and Adam both sat again before Murray continued. “You and Adam are both going to be attending next weekend. I hoped you might be willing to be Adam’s date.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither of you is involved with anyone at the moment, and it would be good publicity for the movie.”
“So it’s a publicity stunt.”
“In a manner of speaking. Both of you are young, attractive, single. The speculation about you being seen together could go a long way to generate interest in the film.”
“I think we’re already generating interest.” Sienna inclined her head slightly toward the photographer on the other side of the lobby.
“This can work in your favor.” Murray stood again. “I’ll let you discuss it over dinner. Adam, I’ll call you later.”
“Sounds good.” Adam stood again and signaled the hostess before offering Sienna a hand. “Shall we?”
“I guess we shall.” Sienna put her hand in his, feeling very much like she was playing a part. When they started toward their table, she realized she was playing a role. Even though she had known Craig only for a week, she wished he was the person holding her hand. It took everything in her to pretend she didn’t mind being here with Adam instead.
* * *
Something didn’t feel right. Craig approached the now-unguarded back door. Everything about the scene made it look safe to enter, but his gut kept churning a warning.
He took a small flashlight from his combat vest and shined it around the edges of the doorway, looking for any sign of trip wires or booby traps. Nothing.
He reached for the doorknob but stopped short of making contact. The thought surfaced that he couldn’t get himself killed doing something stupid, not when he had an amazing woman waiting for him at home. He hoped Sienna was waiting for him at home. He checked the door again.
“What’s wrong?” Damian asked. “We’re all clear.”
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s just nerves,” Damian said. “You’ll get used to it.”
Craig tried to force himself to continue. Before he managed to follow through with his intended action, Brent’s voice came over his headset. “Stand by.”
“Is something wrong?” Damian asked.
“The guards at the front of the building shifted their positions. Tristan and Seth, they’re far enough apart that you should be able to disarm them both without a problem,” Brent said. “Taking a couple more guns out of the equation will increase our chances of getting the hostages out alive.”
Brent and Quinn talked Tristan and Seth through their steps to help them close in on their targets without being obvious. Craig could imagine the well-timed strike and its choreography as their other teammates gave them a verbal play-by-play. Almost simultaneously, Tristan and Seth announced their tasks’ completion.
Craig thought of Sienna’s script and the rehearsal they had gone through on a similar scene. Annoyed that he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, even in a time like this, he tried to refocus on his task. Flashes of the fictional world Sienna would help create continued to surface, an eerie feeling continuing to flood through him.
“Is this feeling too easy to anyone else?” Craig asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted speaking them.
He was the new guy, the one who was still learning. He should be relying on everyone else’s expertise instead of questioning their judgment.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Seth said.
“The pedestrian activity on the street has slowed down,” Quinn added. “Do you think these guys staged a trap?”
“Make sure the guards are secured. Then I want everyone to move back to a safe distance. Let’s see what happens.”
Craig and Damian had only taken a couple steps when Jay’s voice sounded through their comm gear. “Brent. We may have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The heat signatures inside the building are gone.”
“Gone as in something is running interference with our equipment, or gone, gone?” Brent asked.
“Gone, gone.” Jay took a brief moment before he continued. “We showed six heat signatures when we arrived. Sometime between when Damian disarmed the first guard and now, they all left.”
“We know there are a lot of tunnels beneath this part of town,” Seth said. “Maybe they took the hostages out that way.”
Brent responded with a more pessimistic view. “Or maybe the hostages weren’t here in the first place.”
“What do you want to do?” Seth asked.
“Fall back.”
Craig picked up his pace, putting more distance between himself and their original target. A door to a nearby building creaked open. Fingers gripped the edge of the faded wood. A head slowly emerged, peering through the narrow opening.
“Damian. Eleven o’clock,” Craig said, indicating the possible threat. “Third building down from the target location.”
The next few seconds flashed by in a series of disjointed images. The ground shook, and a wave of heat blasted through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Craig saw the building he had nearly entered now engulfed in flames, pieces of debris flying in every direction. He dropped to the ground to avoid getting hit, the smell of burning wood assaulting his senses.
“Shooter!” Damian shouted, his voice nearly lost beneath the sound of a second explosion.
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