“Be careful,” she mouthed.
She followed his order, squeezing behind a few disarrayed boxes. Peering between them, she watched Zone kneel down in front of her attacker. His hand struck downwards, fast like a snake coming at its prey, and the tied man’s head dropped sideways. She’d barely processed what Zone had done when the lights gave a strange hum, dimmed, and went out, and she was back in darkness once again.
This time, she wasn’t as afraid. Zone was here, even though she couldn’t see or hear him. She pinched herself. Ow. Okay, she hadn’t fallen asleep and dreamed him up. He was really, really here. Her eyes tried to pierce the veil of darkness.
“Copy.” His voice floated to her.
It was just the merest whisper but it was reassuring to know he was close by. He must still be communicating with members of his team. What was his plan? She was worried about her father. Was he injured? Zone hadn’t said he was, just that he was coming up with the pirate. No, not pirate. Zone’s questions had planted the suspicion that whoever had her father was one of their own. The idea that someone close had betrayed them explained the coincidence of the pirates’ appearance just after most of the media had left and before the Navy ship’s arrival to pick them up. She tried to remember who had been with them as they rushed down. Johnson? No, he was still on deck, instructing the other men. Sandow? No.
Panfilo. Rebecca bit her lip. Panfilo had been her personal guard for a few months now, accompanying her as she traveled back and forth from the States. He was a big man and was hired for his fighting skills. She needed to warn Zone.
The stairs doorway creaked. She froze, holding her breath, her eyes straining, trying to see. The footsteps sounded hesitant, as if the owner was unsure. A thud.
“Keep moving,” a voice commanded. Then she heard her father’s gasp.
Rebecca put a fist over her mouth. Panfilo. And the first set of footsteps, the one she heard stumbling, must be her father’s.
The other stairway was through another door just around the corner. She hadn’t dared climb them when she was alone, afraid that the noise of treading the metal steps would attract the other pirates. Zone would know they were heading that way.
Everything happened at once.
She heard Zone’s crisply worded “Now.” The lights came back on. She saw her father and Panfilo, both looking up, eyes squinting in surprise. Then Zone was there, reaching in, snapping Panfilo’s arm back, and everything became a blur. She bit down on her knuckles as she watched the men struggle. Panfilo still had his weapon but his hold on her father had loosened as he fended off Zone’s hits. Someone pushed her father out of the way.
Panfilo kicked out. To her relief, Zone averted it while still managing to hold on to Panfilo’s hand. Then Zone swung the arm sideways and she heard a crack. The weapon dropped to the ground. But Panfilo didn’t make a sound as he fought back with a vicious side punch that connected. He bent down to retrieve the gun but was slammed hard into the wall by Zone.
She had only seen beautifully choreographed exhibition fights, never like this, with life-or-death consequences. Zone had placed himself between her father and Panfilo, giving her father a chance to escape. Panfilo took the moment to dive for the gun on the floor. Zone fell on top of him and they rolled around, each trying to gain the upper hand.
When Panfilo’s hand covered Zone’s face, trying to push his fingers into his eyes, Rebecca couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed the boxes aside, forgetting about everything except the urgency to help her man. She ignored her father’s calling her name, her gaze riveted on the deadly struggle. Zone had somehow pried the man’s hand away from his face. He head-butted Panfilo and, with a grunt, rolled on top of him. Move countered move. Another roll. Another. Her heart stopped as a gunshot rang out. Zone’s body slumped and stopped moving for a long moment.
No! No, no, no, please God, no!
Rebecca choked out the strangled sobs that were stuck in her throat. Her feet felt like lead. Then she saw Zone sit up. His hand moved to his belt.
“Hostile down. Ambassador and Miss Powers safe. Is all clear to go up on deck? Over.”
“Zone,” she breathed out, relief making her knees weak. She fell into her father’s arms. All she could say was, “Dad. Zone.”
“With your permission, sir.”
“Of course.”
Suddenly it was Zone carrying her. She looked up, his face smeared with red, green and black, and never had he looked so good. She said his name again and felt like an idiot for having broken off with him because of a stupid argument. He wasn’t a killer; he’d put her and her father’s lives before his.
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “Your father’s safe and you’re going to be okay.”
“I didn’t faint. I can walk,” she said.
“I much prefer this.”
He held her against his chest and it felt so good to hear his heartbeat. She reached up and touched his face. “I’m sorry about our argument. I was wrong.”
He smiled that sinfully sexy smile, making her forget the rest of the planned apology. He shook his head, mouthing “okay” before setting her on her feet at the stairwell.
“Thank you,” her father said, “for coming here in time. I never realized anything was wrong and let Panfilo into the safe room when he said it was him. It’s Zone, isn’t it? I barely recognize you without that bandanna.”
“Yes, it’s me, sir.”
“All clear.” Someone said from above. “We’re escorting the Ambassador to our ship ASAP. His security detail will have to be verified.”
It made sense that the SEALs weren’t going to trust anyone right now. They went out on deck and Rebecca watched as the ambassador shook hands with the men dressed exactly like Zone. Only four of them against all the pirates? She knew about the SEALs’ training, of course, but reading about their skills and watching them in action—okay, just one, but at close quarters—were two different things.
Contrast to the suffocating silence while she was hiding, there was now a frenzy of activity on deck. Those who had accompanied her father. The crew. The rest of the security detail. The only group not moving were the four SEALs, who stood and kept their attention on the Ambassador. She listened to their quiet exchange while her father went over to talk to Johnson, his security chief.
“All hostiles accounted for. All the security detail,” one of them said. “The media’s flying in. Let’s hope we get off before they arrive.”
“Yeah. At least we have our best make up on for their cameras.”
“Damn, Cumber, we should’ve brought our Hollywood shades, man.”
“Unlike you guys, I look great with or without them. Nice first shots there, three for three.” The tallest of them thumbed toward the far end of the deck. “What happened to your face, Zone? Pirate got you?”
“Small resistance,” Zone replied. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“He was busy talking, I bet.”
“Busy something-something, I bet.”
“Can’t blame him. I heard he and the Ambassador’s daughter were . . . acquainted.”
“Dude, he practically begged Hawk to let him come with us. Bet you they’re more than—”
She tugged at Zone’s belt. He took a step back and lowered his head so her words were for him alone.
“You’d better text me your next shore leave. We need to talk,” she murmured. “After today, I definitely prefer you as the pirate.”
His smile was slow and hot, the kind that promised more than talking. Instead of being in shock or hugging her father, she was standing in her bare feet, grinning foolishly like some infatuated teenager. But his smile . . . and that mouth . . . she went on tiptoe and kissed his chin. If there weren’t three other SEALs looking at them with interested smirks, she’d have jumped back into his arms and kissed him silly. His head turned. His lips brushed against her ear.
“Arrrrr,” he said.
Epilogue
Despite their best
efforts, the media never got close to the SEALs. Rebecca saw a newspaper article detailing the incident at sea. There was a picture of the Ambassador and her. There were pictures of uniformed personnel escorting them to the boat that took them to the Navy ship. The four SEALs with the camouflaged faces weren’t there. One moment, when she’d turned after joining her father, she saw them still standing watch in the shadows. Next, they were gone.
It was like a dream.
The man climbing off the motorcycle to meet her was more of a fantasy, though. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his familiar figure in leather jacket and jeans. He took the jacket off, hooked it over his shoulder, and headed her way. He didn’t look as scary without that camouflage, but now she understood why she had been drawn to him when they first met. It wasn’t just the undercurrent of danger and the hint of darkness behind that devastating smile. It was the way he walked—was walking now—that sure confident stride that never hesitated when he first saw her. She smiled. The way those legs filled out the worn jeans wasn’t half bad either.
He stopped in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, lifting her head for his kiss. Warm. Tender. A lover’s embrace.
“Hey,” Zone said, when he finally broke the kiss. His voice was husky.
“Hey. Miss you.” And she didn’t just mean since the hijack at sea.
“I love your emails. Sorry I’m not good at writing back.”
“I didn’t expect you to reply all of them.” She figured a SEAL was busy all the time doing dangerous stuff. They started walking towards her apartment building . “I’ve been reading a lot about what you guys do.”
“Is that right.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yes. And Dad has been telling me all kinds of stories too. I think he’s afraid I’d get serious with you, and now that he knows you’re not just a self-defense instructor . . . ” She trailed off, shrugging. She didn’t have to explain political life.
“He approve now, huh?” Zone sounded amused. “Elite soldier much better sounding than part-time immigrant, right?”
She made a face. “You’re not going to argue with him about politics again, are you?”
“I’d rather do other stuff, actually.” He leaned closer. “Like play pirate. You gonna invite me in?”
She flushed at the heated look he gave her. She wanted him too. It had been too long. But things needed to be said and that was why she had met him down here and not up at her place, where it would be too easy to succumb to temptation.
She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Why do I get the feeling we aren’t going to talk when we go up? You agreed to dinner, remember?”
He growled mockingly. “Me hungry,” he said, emphasizing his accent. “Very. Sweets, you look good enough to eat.” He held up a hand and added, “But if you want to talk, we will. I already emailed how I feel.”
She laughed as she pulled out the card to unlock the building front doors. “Oh. You mean, ‘everything is cool. I want to be with you’ is how you feel?”
“I’m not great with words, I know.” He shrugged. “The last time we discussed my job, when you found out what I do, we ended up arguing.”
And she still felt ashamed of her thoughtlessness. “I know and I’m . . . ”
“Quit apologizing, Rebecca. I’d rather we argue than not talk at all. Just don’t give me the cold shoulder again. That’s the part I didn’t like.”
They went inside and were silent as they waited for the elevator. She studied him and he looked back solemnly, as if that was all that was on his mind. She wasn’t fooled at all.
When they were inside the elevator, she said, “It’s the political brat in me. I promise to curb her tongue from now on. Like I said, I’ve been reading up about the SEALs. I wanted to know what you are, what you do, and not be ignorant anymore.”
He sighed. “But you know me. I’m Zone. I’m crazy about you. I enjoy apple pie and ice cream. I love watching soccer. And right now, all I want to do is spend the night with you, showing you what an absolutely normal male I am.”
His words warmed her insides. Sure, the man didn’t say much but he’d always been good at showing her what he meant. They reached her floor and the door opened.
“Zone, we’re talking about a long-distance relationship. With my dad’s new appointment, I’ll be traveling a lot the next year or so. It’s going to be tough for us.”
They paused outside her door. He turned. Tipped her chin up with his forefinger. “It’s tough to be in any relationship. Ours will be challenging. All along, I’ve been willing to give it all I got, even with your dad’s disapproval. The most important thing I want to know now is, are you tough enough to be with me?”
She met his eyes squarely. “Hey, you saw me knock down a bad guy twice my size. You think I’m not tough enough?”
His smile was slow. “Remembering you moving like that made all those hours on the floor mat with you worth it. Let’s try it in bed. Are we through talking yet? ‘Cause I’m hungry.”
She opened the door. “Welcome home, sailor.”
“Arrrrr.” In one smooth move, he threw her over one shoulder and strode in, one foot kicking the door shut behind him.
Rebecca had her very own secret pirate. Not many women could boast that.
SEALed by Fate
Marliss Melton
Operation “Dumb Broad” was underway. The instant the Mark V-1 Special Operations Craft slid onto a deserted strip of shore along the Rio Grande River, Lt. Sam Sasseville stripped off his night ops jacket, stuffed it inside the gunwale locker, and leapt ashore with a lightweight pack.
Dressed to resemble a civilian, he wore black jeans, his pockets filled with extra ammo, and a baggy black T-shirt concealing the SIG Sauer P226 holstered to the small of his back. A Gerber blade was tucked inside his right sock, and his pack contained a helmet, radio, NVGs, MRE’s, baby wipes, and a clean T-shirt.
Sam’s jungle-green eyes appeared black under the drizzling night sky. His thick head of dark hair and the swarthy skin he’d inherited from his Cuban grandmother simplified his infiltration into the Mexican province of Tamaulipas.
Two of his teammates, Harley and Teddy, had a harder time disguising themselves as locals. Harley, who was fair and bald, had slathered himself in bronzing lotion and covered his shaved head with a bandana. Teddy, who was African American, wore a floppy hat to disguise his onyx skin. Only Vinny, a full-blooded Italian, merged into his present surroundings as easily as Sam—provided he kept his mouth shut. That would be the hardest part of the op for Vinny.
The lapping of water muffled the SEALs’ trek across the mud to the predetermined location, deep in the scrub brush. As the K50S water jets on the Mark V carried the craft silently back to the Gulf, the squad rallied up, squatting to keep their heads low. They wouldn’t need the Mark V again. If everything went as planned, they would exfiltrate the country via helo.
Sam checked his watch. He pulled his sat phone from his back pocket and called up headquarters.
“Homeplate,” said the ops officer, who sat before a computer monitor at the Spec Ops Headquarters back in Virginia.
“This is Striker Team Lead, checking in, sir. We’re at the infil site now, waiting for the OGA vehicle, over.”
“Roger that, Team Lead. Keep me posted, over.”
“Here it comes now,” Harley said. He’d been sweeping their perimeter through the high powered scope on his sniper rifle. “Right on time.”
Over the patter of rain, Sam detected the rumble of a car engine as it drew closer. Twin beams sheared the tops of the scrub brush around them. The other government agent, or OGA, was a DEA officer who’d volunteered to help out. He would escort them into Matamoros, the lawless town situated across the U.S. border from Brownsville, Texas. There, they would initiate a twenty-four hour reconnaissance, monitoring the movements in and around the site, before sweeping in to recover their target.
Then the OGA would drive like hell to a dist
ant exfil point, where a Navy Seahawk would be waiting to swoop them all safety.
Piece. Of. Cake.
Sam slipped his sat phone back into his pocket, maintaining a tight leash on his temper. This whole goddamn op shouldn’t be happening at all if Senator Paul Scott’s idiot daughter had left Matamoros when the Embassy issued a mandatory evacuation for Americans. If not for her, he’d be headed for Malaysia now as part of the team tasked to take out an infamous Malaysian arms smuggler. Instead, he was playing nursemaid to a humanitarian aid worker who didn’t have any sense of self-preservation. This mission had “Complete Waste of Time” stamped all over it, damn it. Sam hadn’t fought to become a SEAL so he could waste his time. He’d done it to be part of something meaningful. And this was so not it.
What annoyed him most was if Miss Scott were anyone other than the daughter of the President’s golfing buddy, Sam and his squad would be well on their way to Malaysia right now. He’d renamed this mission “Operation Dumb Broad” in honor of her idiocy.
“That’s our guy,” Harley confirmed, lowering his weapon. The OGA vehicle came to a stop and dimmed its lights.
“Go,” Sam growled. As the officer in charge, it was up to him to call the shots.
Vinnie darted out of hide first, providing cover for Teddy and then Harley, who leapfrogged his position. Sam brought up the rear and was the first into the rust-colored taxi, taking shotgun. His three companions squeezed into the back seat, grunting at the tight fit. Cigarette smoke filled the car’s interior. They slid on seats covered in plastic. The car even had a working meter.
“Welcome to hell,” drawled the DEA officer, tossing his Marlboro out the window. Engaging the meter like he intended them to charge them for every kilometer, he hammered the accelerator. The crucifix hanging from the rear view mirror swung wildly.
Beyond the slapping windshield wipers, the glow of Matamoros beckoned them into danger.
Madison Scott jerked to her elbows and plumbed the dark dormitory for a threat. Something had wakened her. Her heart was trotting with terror, but the room looked exactly as it should beyond the mosquito netting.
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