Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  His chances of escape were dwindling by the second, yet he couldn’t bring himself to run. More and more, this seemed like a test. As if Allah was testing his loyalty and how devout he was to Islam. He’d passed every one of those tests placed before him. This was his chance to truly prove how dedicated he was to this cause.

  The security teams had a lot of ground to cover and a whole hell of a lot of places to check before they reached the ship, but he knew there would be more men coming, and once they fanned out he wasn’t sure how much time he had before they boarded his boat.

  No sooner had he thought it than an announcement came over the ship’s PA system, announcing that all crew members were being ordered to go ashore while a security check was conducted. Rahim’s mouth tightened as he hung there, deciding what he should do. Seconds later men began streaming down the ship’s gangplank, and when he checked, he could see the same thing happening in the neighboring ships. Security agents dressed in dark fatigues converged in groups on the dock, assembling to begin the hunt.

  Time to find a better hiding spot.

  He was partway down an access ladder when he caught the faint throb of rotors in the distance. He froze, training his gaze on the sky. The thumping became louder and louder until the unmistakable silhouette of a helo broke through the low hanging cloud deck in the distance. Rahim stayed where he was as it came closer. Too early for it to be his ride out of here. Coast Guard? He watched it take shape, the sleek outline of a military-issue Blackhawk.

  Hidden in the shadows, he pushed back the anxiety clawing at him and watched as it flew toward the ship, hovering over a clear spot near the bow on the main deck. Strong gusts of wind battered him from the powerful rotor wash. Shielding his face with one hand, he squinted as four men dressed in black fast-roped from the belly of the helo and slid to the deck. Rahim focused on each man in turn, and when the first one turned around, he held his breath.

  Jihad.

  His betrayer said something to the others then waved the helo off. Even though they couldn’t possibly see him up here, Rahim shrank back against the cold, steel ladder, breathing fast. How had they known he was on this ship? Bracing his shoulder against the ladder, he shrugged off the backpack and took out the pieces of the rifle. His hands were slightly unsteady as he put them all together and loaded a full magazine into it. He shoved the four spares into the various pockets on his cargo pants and slowly climbed down toward the deck, ready to begin the hunt.

  But first he had to find a way to isolate Sandberg from the others. This had to be between only the two of them. It was clearly what Allah wanted. Then Rahim would send him to hell where he belonged.

  * * *

  Wade knew Rahim was here. He could feel it.

  Where are you, you slippery bastard?

  They’d traced the cell phone signal from the dock, and based on the direction he’d been heading, this was the analyst’s best guess as to what ship he’d boarded. Agents on the ground had already spoken to the crewman in charge of checking credentials, and he’d confirmed that someone matching Rahim’s description had come aboard less than half an hour before. Teams of Feds and SWAT guys were already on scene, along with snipers and field agents from a half dozen other government agencies. HAZMAT and military personnel were being dispatched also.

  He was horribly aware that he was acting as human bait. Robert had had Aaron call his contact within Rahim’s network again, to “leak” the intel that U.S. authorities knew where Rahim was and that Sandberg was part of a team being dispatched. They were all counting on that being enough motivation to make him stay and fight.

  Standing on the deck of this ship with his three teammates, Wade felt like he had a neon sign blinking over his head.

  Here I am, Rahim. Come get me.

  They’d kept his team purposely small in the hopes of lulling Rahim into a false sense of security. All the guys were former Tier-One operators from either the SEALs or Delta, and two of them were currently serving on the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. They all knew the score: provide backup and assistance where necessary, but give Wade enough room to lure him out into the open. Upholding standard policy, Robert had been adamant in his instructions to Wade before boarding the Blackhawk with the others.

  The CIA wanted Rahim captured alive, but that was laughable and they all knew it, so Wade hadn’t made any promises he didn’t intend to keep. The bastard would absolutely put a bullet in his own brain before allowing himself to be captured, and he’d take out anyone he could before then.

  If it came down to either dying in order to bring Rahim in or taking him out and walking away to get back to Erin, he wouldn’t even have to think about what his decision would be.

  Knowing he couldn’t afford to let thoughts of her distract him, Wade locked the door on his mental vault and focused on his quarry. He knew Rahim better than anyone. If he were in Rahim’s shoes, where would he hide? It’d been a long, long time since Wade had trained to take down a ship. Even though there were teams already checking out the lower parts of the ship, Rahim currently held the advantage. He could be fucking anywhere on this monster of a boat.

  Wade signalled to the others. They split into two-man teams and began methodically moving their way along the cargo hold. The containers were arranged in horizontal rows, each placed tight to the one next to it with no room for a man to hide between them, leaving only narrow corridors between the rows. Snipers positioned up on the crane platforms and other observation points had eyes on the ship and its cargo, and would alert him if they saw anything suspicious. That didn’t do much to ease the buzz of unease in Wade’s gut.

  He and his partner moved their way cautiously from row to row, receiving occasional updates from the teams sweeping the interior of the ship. Intel came in that the bridge was clear, as were the mechanical, medical and crew areas. Two other teams were moving up to the cargo deck to assist in the search, where they’d move toward the bow.

  Wade and his team kept moving toward the stern. With the butt of his M-4 tucked firmly against his shoulder, he swung around and checked each alley created by the rows of containers.

  “I got movement,” one of the snipers suddenly said via the earpiece. “Eighty meters to your two o’clock. Zeroing in on that position now and will advise. Over.”

  “Copy that.” Wade took a deep breath and continued forward, his muscles drawing tight as he braced himself for what was coming. The tactical vest he wore wouldn’t save him if he was slower on the draw than Rahim. Wade had never seen him miss anything he aimed at. And right now it could be Rahim who had his crosshairs lined up on Wade’s face.

  His boots made hollow thuds against the steel deck despite his effort to walk softly, and to him they seemed to echo far too loudly.

  “Sniper at your one o’clock!”

  Wade instinctively dropped to one knee and swung the barrel of his rifle around just as a shot rang out and buried itself in the deck a foot away from his left boot.

  Danger Close: Chapter Twenty

  “Shit.” Wade jerked back and took cover behind the container.

  “I don’t have a clear shot, but he’s pinned down in there,” one of the other snipers reported. “You gonna move in and trap him?”

  That would just end badly for everyone. Rahim would kill any and all of them he could before he died, but it was him he wanted more than anything. Even more than the chance of escaping alive. “No, give me time to draw him out,” Wade ordered him. These guys were all pros and would hold off on taking a kill shot unless it was the only available option left. Wade prayed it wouldn’t have to happen. They needed to know where the bomb was. Time was running out. “Anderson, you see him?” he asked one of the guys who’d gone around the other side of the containers.

  “Negative. Has to still be in that corridor though.”

  “Copy.” He spoke to the man behind him. “Cover me, but give me some room to flush him out.”

  “Roger that.”

  Even though he had plen
ty of backup and even though he’d mentally prepared himself to face this, forcing himself to move out into the open went against every one of his instincts. His mind and body were screaming at him to stay behind cover.

  His sense of duty wouldn’t allow it. Rahim was his responsibility and no one else’s.

  Taking several deep breaths to psych himself up, he got to his feet and mentally reviewed his next move. Calling on every bit of strength and speed he had, he overrode the warnings blaring in his brain and burst out from behind the container. He took two running strides and dove. Bullets thudded deep into the steel deck as he rolled and scrambled behind cover of the next container.

  “Are you hit?” one of his teammates demanded over the earpiece.

  “Negative,” he panted, though it had been damn close. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer against his sternum and the adrenaline was pumping fast and hard through his bloodstream. Only two more rows of containers separated him and Rahim.

  He got to his feet again, ignoring the tremor in his muscles as he made his way quickly down the corridor to the other side. “Coming out on your end, Anderson,” he whispered. Rahim could only cover one end of the corridor at a time. Wade could only hope that he hadn’t anticipated his latest move. How do you want this to go, brother? Just you and me?

  He was putting everything on the line, betting that Rahim would be unable to resist the lure of going one-on-one with him. Too much hinged on this capture. Wade was ready to finish this.

  On another desperate burst of speed he tore out from behind cover and sprinted for the next row of containers. Sunlight and shadow flickered past as he ran. A burst of rounds blasted the air. Two tore past him close enough for him to hear the whistle of them and plowed into the container inches above his head. He was focused on the edge of the next container, timing the moment he would dive behind it when a sudden flash of movement came ahead of him from the shadows.

  “He’s at your twelve o’clock,” a sniper reported.

  Everything went into slo-mo.

  Rahim emerged out of the shadows, his silhouette outlined against the rust-colored containers for a split second as he jumped to the deck. His boots hit with a solid thud. He turned slightly toward Wade, his expression hardening when they made eye contact. Both of them had their rifles up. Rahim fired as he whirled. Wade ducked but not in time to avoid the bullet that slammed into the lower portion of his vest. The round punched into his body armor like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from his lungs and dropping him to his knees. Pain tore through him as he let the momentum carry him to his belly. Fighting to drag air into his starving lungs, Wade brought his rifle muzzle up and fired two rounds at Rahim’s running legs.

  His aim was off slightly but he still managed to wing him in the calf. Rahim crashed down face-first on the deck. Over the roaring in his ears, Wade hauled himself to his feet and raced after him. Everything slowed even more. His focus narrowed to his quarry and the weapon in his hands.

  Forcing himself to stop to steady his aim, Wade tucked the stock into his shoulder and pushed out a wheezy breath as he squeezed the trigger. A metallic ping rang out. Rahim yelled in pain as the rifle fell from his grip and clattered to the deck. Wade skidded to a stop and dropped as Rahim spun back to get it, his right hand bleeding from the bullet wound.

  “Put your hands up,” Wade called out in Pashto.

  Rahim’s vivid blue eyes flashed with raw fury.

  “Holding on target,” the sniper added. Wade blocked out the distraction and the knowledge that his teammates were all waiting for the order to engage, dying to get into the action.

  “You’re surrounded,” Wade continued, his voice a breathless rasp as he fought past the pain throbbing in his belly. Only a few dozen yards stood between Rahim and the stern of the ship. The bastard knew he was surrounded, that his only option for surviving was to surrender.

  They both knew he’d never do it. Still, Wade had to try.

  They’d narrowed down the bomb’s location to one of seven possibilities. But they didn’t know which one, and they didn’t know how long they had to find and disarm it. If Rahim planned to do the suicide by cop routine, Wade had to somehow get that vital piece of intel from him first. “There’s no way out. Give it up, brother.” The last word came out by habit.

  Rahim stared back at him, pure hatred in that familiar, chilling gaze. His lips peeled back over his teeth in a feral smile that said he was looking forward to what would happen next. “Just you and me finish this,” he rasped back. “And you’re not my brother.”

  A chill snaked down Wade’s spine at the venom in those words. Before he could take a single step Rahim’s uninjured hand flashed down and came up with a pistol. Wade reacted instantly, dropping to one knee to get out of the line of fire. A searing pain hit his left forearm a split second before he squeezed the trigger again, knocking off his aim just enough that the bullet skimmed Rahim’s right upper arm as he whirled and raced for the stern.

  He distantly registered the blood trickling down his arm and dripping from his wrist. A taunting shot. Rahim knew the leverage he had over Wade and the others, and that all the firepower in the world couldn’t get it from him if he died.

  Rahim wanted this up close and personal, the two of them locked in a death struggle. And as it was the only way Wade could get what he needed, he had no choice but to give it to him. Erin’s face flashed through his mind. Her warm, loving smile lighting up the darkest parts of his heart and banishing the ghosts and regrets he carried with him. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to her.

  Rage and icy determination filled him as he stared at Rahim.

  Let’s do this.

  Letting out a guttural roar, Wade surged to his feet and tore after his enemy.

  * * *

  They needed him alive.

  They’d confirmed it the moment Rahim had taken that first shot and no one had returned fire. They needed him to find out where the bomb was, and he was the only way to make that happen.

  Grim resolve curved Rahim’s lips into a smile as he ran. Even if he survived what came next, he would never reveal the bomb’s location, not under any form of torture.

  It didn’t matter that he was outmanned and outgunned. Even as they congratulated themselves on cornering him, he had still won.

  With that burden lifted from him, he felt suddenly lighter, stronger. His boots pounded against the steel deck, the reverberations ringing up through his wounded leg, in time with the throb in his bleeding hand. He barely felt the pain. He was more than ready to die and become a martyr for Islam. And Allah was rewarding him by ensuring he would get his final wish—a battle to the death with the man who had betrayed him.

  The thud of rapid footfalls behind him told him Sandberg was close and gaining. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going to shoot him in the head. Weren’t going to risk wounding him badly enough for him to die. They were willing to allow Sandberg to sacrifice himself, and likely many others, in the hopes that they could capture him. The hairs on the backs of his arms stood on end as goosebumps raced across his skin. Sixty feet away, the stern of the ship loomed. He raced straight toward it without slowing, anticipating the moment when Sandberg caught up to him.

  Another shot rang out. Pain exploded in his left shoulder. The impact knocked him off his feet. He gritted his teeth against a cry of pain as black dots swarmed his vision. His chin glanced off the deck as he sprawled out on his stomach. Rising above the agony, he rolled onto his side and reached for the pistol he’d dropped. A heartbeat later, a heavy weight slammed into him. The back of his head bounced off the steel, momentarily stunning him.

  He distantly heard the clatter of a weapon then Sandberg was on him. All his reflexes kicked in, his body in full survival mode, giving him an almost supernatural strength he’d never felt before. He grabbed hold of the powerful forearm shoved against his windpipe and twisted to the side in time to avoid a hook to the jaw. Sandberg hissed in a breath as his
fist connected with the deck instead, and in that split second Rahim went on the offensive. He drove his knee up, hitting Sandberg where the round had impacted the vest.

  Sandberg grunted, his forearm slipping sideways off Rahim’s throat. Rahim bucked and flipped them over, reversing their positions. His weight landed hard on Sandberg and he used it to his advantage, pressing his left elbow into the wound on Sandberg’s forearm. Face turning red from the pressure around his throat, his enemy’s eyes filled with silent fury and a resolve Rahim had to respect. They heaved and twisted, bodies deadlocked as they grappled for superiority in this desperate struggle.

  The pain began to bleed through the haze of rage and adrenaline. Rahim’s muscles shook with the strain.

  “Where’s the bomb, asshole?” Sandberg growled in English.

  It was the first time Rahim ever heard him speak it. He gritted his teeth and let out an answering snarl, enraged all over again that this man had duped him for so long. He’d trusted him, implicitly and without reservation. The pain and humiliation of it was more than he could bear. He was going to inflict it all back and then some before he died. “Fuck you,” he managed past the sudden restriction in his throat.

  Feeling his strength beginning to wane, he dug down deep and twisted with all his might. An angry roar tore out of him as they rolled. Sandberg scrambled to stop them, his boots slipping on the deck. Rahim kept pushing, inching them closer and closer to the side. Finally they reached the tipping point and went over the edge. A moment’s freefall, then they hit a small platform on the rear starboard part of the ship. The impact knocked them apart and squeezed the breath from his lungs.

  Move, move!

  He narrowly avoided the elbow to the head as he jerked to the side. Lashing out with his boot, he connected with Sandberg’s kneecap, a spike of elation flashing through him at the man’s pained shout. Sandberg lunged for him and again Rahim rolled them, ready to take Sandberg over the edge and into the freezing gray-green water below.