One Intrepid SEAL

by Elle James

  Lawrence nodded. “So be it.” He lifted a hand and said something in Lingala. His guards lowered their weapons, though they didn’t appear happy about it.

  Diesel and his men relaxed their holds on their rifles and came forward.

  “Mr. Klein, I brought you and my brother here to see for yourselves what greed and corruption is doing to the people of our great nation.” He swept his hand to the side. “Come.” Lawrence waved to the SEALs. “You, too, will benefit from what you will see.”

  Reese waited for Diesel to join her, and then walked with Lawrence to where a guard held his brother at gunpoint.

  Lawrence touched the man’s weapon and gave him a low, brief command. The man stepped back, pointing his rifle at the ground.

  “You might think my methods were extreme, but what you will witness is a different kind of extreme.” Lawrence swept his arm wide. “Behold the men, women and children of our country.” Lawrence lifted his head and gazed at the swarm of people lining up in front of a giant cauldron.

  A man, using a long wooden paddle, stirred a mash of some kind of grain in the cauldron, barely heating it before ladling out portions into the bare, dirty hands of those waiting. Men, women and small children took what they were given and licked their fingers clean of possibly the only nourishment they would receive that day.

  “What is this?” Jean-Paul asked. “You have brought me to see people eating?”

  “I’ve brought you to see the people employed in our country’s mines—people who are more or less enslaved from the misfortune of their births, until the day they die.” Lawrence’s brows furrowed. “Look at them. Men our age reduced to skin and bone. Women who can’t feed their children. Children who must work for the food they receive. They dig with their hands, carry bags of dirt and minerals heavier than their own weight, and die in the heat and humidity, their bellies empty.” Lawrence drew in a deep breath and let it out. “This is your legacy, my brother.”

  Reese’s heart squeezed in her chest when a toddler with the distended belly of the malnourished, missed his portion because he couldn’t hold his little hands together.

  The mush plopped to the ground. The little boy scooped up what he could, dirt and all, before he was pushed out of the way.

  Reese wanted to gather the child in her arms and feed him as he should be fed.

  “I do not approve of these conditions,” Jean-Paul said.

  Lawrence snorted. “But you allow them to be. When was the last time you visited a mine?”

  “I visited one last year.” Jean-Paul’s frown mirrored his brother’s. “These were not the conditions I witnessed.”

  “The people you employed to run the mine showed you what you wanted to see, not the truth,” Lawrence said. “Now that you’ve seen reality, what do you plan to do about it? Surely you realize now why the people want a democratic election. They are tired of their needs being ignored. Tired of their children dying in mines when they should be going to school. Our country will not move into the twenty-first century at the rate we are killing our people.”

  Jean-Paul pounded his fist into his palm. “There will be change.”

  Lawrence crossed his arms over his chest. “Starting with allowing the election?”

  Jean-Paul scrubbed a hand down his face and nodded. “Starting with the election. But understand, brother, there are factions who would rather take this country by force and keep it stirred up and fighting from within.”

  “These people cannot go on as they are,” Reese whispered.

  “You think I want them to?” Jean-Paul demanded.

  Diesel cupped Reese’s arm. “The working conditions are deplorable.”

  “It’s all they have. Without this work and what little food they receive, they have nothing,” Lawrence said. “The problem cannot be resolved by banishing them from the mines.”

  “I will do what I can until the election,” Jean-Paul swore. “In the meantime, we must get more food to these people. I will work on a program to get the children out of the mines and into schools.”

  Lawrence turned to Ferrence. “I know you are here to negotiate interest in our country’s natural resources to include the products of this mine. If you are truly interested in securing access to our treasures, you must be willing to invest in the infrastructure that will provide jobs for our people, not the kind that employs our children.”

  Reese held her breath, wondering what her client would say about what he’d seen. Would he continue to be the privileged rich-man’s son, concerned only about his own well-being, or would he be the man and diplomat he needed to be?

  Ferrence nodded. “Although I can’t condone your method of bringing us here, I understand your desire to shed light on the situation. I will convey your message to my father and will work to insure we will help, not exacerbate the problem.”

  “That is all I ask,” Lawrence said.

  “My brother,” Jean-Paul stepped forward. “What is in this for you? Do you wish to take my place as president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo?”

  Lawrence shook his head. “If that were to happen, I would do my best for all of my people. But that is not why I brought you here. I brought you here because I could not allow this to continue. I have nightmares about the children I’ve seen die in the mud and dirt, just trying to work enough to be fed.” He shook his head again.

  Reese pressed a hand to her growling belly, her own hunger almost an embarrassment in light of the mine workers’ plight. They needed food, clothing and shelter—the very basics of human needs.

  The thump-thump of rotor blades whipping the air drew Reese’s attention to an incoming helicopter.

  “Your transportation back to Kinshasa has arrived.” Lawrence stepped back to glance at the aircraft as it hovered over a bare spot on the ground. As it descended toward the ground, a loud bang ripped through the air.

  The fuselage of the chopper exploded, sending the craft reeling to the side.

  People screamed and ran to get out of the way of the blades as they hit the ground, broke off and were shot through the air.

  Automatic weapon fire sounded from the direction of the road. Several trucks filled with men carrying rifles and rocket-propelled grenade launchers raced toward the camp.

  “Get down!” Diesel yelled.

  Bullets sprayed the dirt near Reese’s feet. For a moment, she froze, not sure what was going on, or where she should run.

  Diesel curled his arm around Reese and herded her toward a rise in the ground. He shoved her behind the berm and touched his hand to his ear. “Report.” He listened for a moment and then responded. “Get the Sabandos and Klein to cover. I’ll lay down suppressing fire until you’re ready.”

  Diesel stretched out on the ground and aimed his rifle toward the men leaping from the backs of the trucks. He popped off several rounds. With each shot, he took out a rebel fighter. The men rushed toward them, more bodies than Diesel could fend off with just one rifle.

  Soon, his shots were joined by others. The SEALs moved into defensive positions, forming a line, along with Lawrence’s guards.

  Reese kept her head low, feeling defenseless, unable to contribute to their survival.

  One of the men who’d piled out of the back of the second truck took cover behind the truck. He carried what appeared to be a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. The man lifted the weapon to his shoulder.

  “Holy hell.” Reese touched Diesel’s shoulder and pointed. “That man’s going to fire an RPG.”

  Diesel redirected his aim to the rebel fighter as he shifted the weapon to his shoulder.

  Reese held her breath, praying the rocket wouldn’t launch before Diesel had a chance to take out the operator.

  Diesel squeezed the trigger, hitting the man in the chest. He fell forward. His hand must have been on the trigger, because the RPG launched, hit the ground in front of him and exploded into a fiery blaze that shook the ground. The explosion pierced the truck’s fuel tank, sending fuel spewing
over the nearby fighters.

  The battle had barely begun when it ended, but Reese couldn’t remember a more intense fifteen minutes in her entire life.

  The few remaining rebel fighters turned and ran for the woods.

  Lawrence’s guards gave chase.

  When the dust and smoke settled, the SEALs rose from their positions.

  Reese glanced around, taking a headcount before she let go of the breath she hadn’t released since she’d started counting. All six SEALs were alive and unharmed. Klein hesitantly pushed to his feet, along with Jean-Paul and Lawrence Sabando.

  “You see,” Jean-Paul said, more calmly than one would have expected after the gunfire, “there are factions who would take what they can.” He walked to the two abandoned trucks and stared down at the dead men scattered around. He nudged one of the men with the toe of his shoe. “At least one of their leaders is now accounted for.”

  Reese rose from her position and stood beside Diesel. He took her hand and led her to where Jean-Paul and Lawrence stood beside the dead man.

  She recognized the man with the scar across his right cheek. “That’s the man who kidnapped me and Mr. Klein,” she said.

  “Bosco Mutombo,” Lawrence confirmed.

  The DRC president shot a glance toward Ferrence. “What is this?”

  Reese and Ferrence met gazes.

  Ferrence nodded and looked directly into the president’s eyes. “We didn’t tell you about the incident because you had enough on your mind with the conference. And we came out of it all right.”

  The president looked around at the SEALs. “I take it your friends assisted your escape?”

  Ferrence nodded.

  “Do I want to know what qualifies them to assist in your liberation and our battle today?” President Sabando asked, his brows furrowing.

  Reese and Ferrence shook their heads.

  The president studied Diesel and his team for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he snorted. “Americans.”

  “Well, from my perspective, we would not have survived without them.” Lawrence strode to Big Jake and held out his hand. “How can we send our thanks?”

  Big Jake shook the man’s hand and let go. “We’d prefer you didn’t.”

  Lawrence nodded. “Brother, does this convince you that Mutombo’s men were not working with me?”

  Jean-Paul drew in a deep breath. “It does.”

  “And, having seen the wretched conditions of the mining operations, do you see the need for change?”

  The DRC president frowned in the direction of the able-bodied miners who were headed into the mines to work. “I don’t like it when I don’t know what’s going on in my country. But it appears I have missed a lot. As far as I’m concerned, your rescuers were never here and my military succeeded in removing one of our country’s greatest enemies.”

  “With Bosco out of the picture, we will no longer waste resources on hunting him.” Lawrence stared down at the dead man, and then looked out at the mining camp, where some people tended to the wounded before getting back to work. “We should be able to concentrate on helping our people.”

  The president followed his brother’s gaze. “And we will.” Then he faced Reese and Ferrence. “For now, perhaps our guests would like to return to Kinshasa?”

  Lawrence glanced at the crashed helicopter. “Unfortunately, that helicopter was our transportation.”

  “I can have the presidential helicopter here in a few hours,” the president said. “All I need is a telephone.”

  “President, sir,” Diesel stepped forward. “My men have transportation waiting for us at the Kamenbe Airport. However, I would like to accompany Mr. Klein and Miss Brantley back to Kinshasa with you, if that’s possible.”

  Jean-Paul nodded. “With my brother’s approval, I will send my men to accompany your men and see to it you don’t run into any other rebel fighters.”

  Big Jake held out his hand. “Mr. President, we’ll see you back in Kinshasa.”

  President Sabando shook the man’s hand. “We will be there before nightfall.”

  The three hours it took for President Sabando’s helicopter to arrive gave those who remained ample time to tour the mining camp and take stock of the deplorable conditions.

  By the time they loaded into the helicopter, the president had put in an order to deliver food and provisions to the site. He made arrangements to make unscheduled visits to other mining sites in the near future and sent word to his cabinet members to move forward with preparations for the election to take place on schedule.

  Reese was able to settle back in her seat beside Diesel. With her hand held tightly in his, she slept all the way back to the capital city, putting off thought of what would happen next. She didn’t want to think of leaving Diesel and never seeing him again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Diesel loved the way Reese leaned her head on his shoulder and felt safe enough to fall asleep against him. He wished he could have slept as she did. Instead, his entire body was tense with thoughts of having to leave Reese soon.

  At most, he’d be in Kinshasa long enough to see Reese and Klein on to the first airplane out of the country, which could be as soon as the next day. That gave him only one more night with Reese. One night to cram a lifetime of memories.

  He couldn’t believe he’d known her for just a few days. But those few days might as well have been a lifetime. Deep in his heart, he knew she was the woman for him. But did they have a chance in hell of making a relationship work? Hell, did she even feel as strongly as he did about her? Yes, he could bring her body to life, but body and heart were two different things.

  Lawrence Sabando assured the president he’d released the dignitaries he’d herded into the van back in Kinshasa, shortly after they’d been taken away. None of them were harmed. His actions and those of his supporting fighters had been designed to frighten more than harm the people of the conference. He’d only wanted to make a statement that would be heard around the world and draw attention to the plight of the people of the DRC.

  Lawrence couldn’t promise his brother he’d go free after what he’d done, but he would work to insure his brother’s safety.

  Diesel had listened to the brothers speaking in English. The president had news that the rebellion in the city had been brought to order. By the time they landed on the grounds of the Palais de la Nation, where the president of the DRC lived, the city was calm, and people were back to their normal work and routines.

  “You are welcome to stay here for the night,” President Sabando offered. “But my driver is on standby and can take you wherever you would like to go.”

  For once, Ferrence looked to Reese first.

  “I’d like to go back to the hotel. My luggage is there,” Reese said.

  Ferrence’s brows dipped. “I too would like to go back to the hotel, as long as it’s safe.”

  The president nodded. “My people assure me the uprising has been dealt with and the city center is back to normal. I will order the car around.”

  “Thank you.”

  The president’s brows rose. “Mr. Klein, do you still wish to have the meeting with me?”

  Ferrence’s lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced from Jean-Paul to his brother, Lawrence. “Mr. President, I would love to, but I believe you have your hands full with the needs of your country. I won’t deter you from taking care of your people first.”

  Diesel could have been gobsmacked. After all of Klein’s determination to get a meeting with the president of the DRC, it shocked Diesel that the man declined—and politely, too.

  Both the president and his brother nodded.

  “Thank you for understanding,” Lawrence said.

  “I will put in a good word for you with my successor,” the president offered.

  “Thank you.” Ferrence drew in a deep breath. “Please, don’t let us keep you.”

  One of the president’s assistants hurried out onto the lawn. Moments later, Reese, Diesel an
d Klein were ushered to the drive, where a long white limousine awaited them.

  Shortly after, they were deposited at the entrance to the hotel.

  “Allow me.” Diesel scooped Reese up into his arms and carried her into the hotel. They stopped at the desk for key cards to their rooms. The hotel staff was apologetic about the events of the day before and offered to send a bottle of wine to their rooms, which they gladly accepted.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll call down for room service rather than go to dinner,” Ferrence said, as they rode the elevator up to their floor.

  “Good, because I don’t think I can go another step,” Reese said, her arm looped around Diesel’s neck. She gave him a pointed glance. “However, I can stand on my own two feet.”

  “I know,” he said with a smile. “But there might be broken glass or something sharp in the carpets.”

  “We’re standing on tile,” she pointed out with a smile.

  “Humor me, will ya? I’m trying to be a gentleman. I don’t get much practice.”

  Klein shook his head. “I’ll arrange for our flights to leave tomorrow, and then I think I’ll call my wife.”

  Reese’s smile faded. “If we aren’t meeting with the president, we really have no reason to stay.” Her voice trailed off. Though she had answered Klein, her gaze met Diesel’s.

  Diesel’s heart sank to the pit of his belly. Tomorrow was finally coming, the day he’d have to say goodbye to Reese. His arms tightened around her. If he could make the night last forever, he would.

  The elevator arrived at their floor. Klein waved Diesel through first. The walk down the hallway to their rooms was accomplished in silence. At their doors, Diesel final set Reese on her feet.

  Diesel held out his hand for Klein’s key card.

  For once, the man didn’t argue. He handed over the card and waited in the hallway, while Diesel made a quick perusal of his suite.

  Nothing seemed out of place or disturbed. In fact, the hotel staff had cleaned and made the bed. Everything was as it should be. When Diesel came out, he handed over the card. “You’re still a target. If you need to leave your room for any reason, let me know. I’ll go with you.”