Her Chosen Protector: Navy SEAL Romance (Night Storm Book 3)

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  Max’s lip ticked up into a half-smile. Which was really saying something. Then he dropped his hand on Asher’s shoulder. “I know I can count on you, Ash. I need you, but only if you can perform.” He gave a head tilt toward the computers, and Ash continued over to look over Kane’s shoulder.

  Shit, the kid really was good. Besides the floorplans, he had the electrical and the security system. But Ash saw immediately what Rafa meant about security sucking. Yeah, the gates might be reinforced steel all along the perimeter, but it didn’t go deep enough into the foundation. Anyone with a little bit of C-4 and a willingness to crawl could easily break in.

  All he had to do was point on the screen and Kane nodded.

  “Let’s just hope that the secret police force is lazy.”

  “What? What are you seeing?” the kid asked.

  “We need to call your aunt,” Asher said without answering his question. “We need to find out what the situation is like on the inside.”

  Raiden and Nic came in carrying some food that they passed out to everyone assembled around the room.

  “Kid, call from your phone,” Asher said. “Then we’ll arrange something more secure.”

  He dialed and set his phone down on the table and put it on speaker.

  A strong, self-assured woman’s voice answered. She had an American accent. “Rafael, are they there?”

  “How’s my aunt?”

  “Who’s this?” Asher asked.

  “I’m Eden York. Your aunt is doing pretty good, don’t worry. Her throat is swollen, so she’s writing things down for me.”

  “We can’t talk on this line,” Rafa said without giving anything away. “Somebody else is going to give you some instructions, okay?”

  “Yes,” came her immediate reply.

  “Ma’am, I need you to work with someone who has a phone that isn’t being tracked. When you find that person, call back this number. We’ll take it from there.”

  “Won’t they track it once they call Rafael’s phone?”

  “We’ll take care of things,” Asher assured her.

  “Okay. Give me a few minutes, and it will be done.” She hung up. Asher liked her. No fuss, no muss, just down to business.

  Raiden and Nic came back with a second load of empanadas and succulent shrimp wrapped in corn pancakes. Now that his head wasn’t hurting as much and his stomach had calmed down, Asher was starving, and he was ready for more. Raiden must have read his mind, or heard his stomach growling, because he shoved a plate into Asher’s hands.

  “Eat.”

  Raiden then pushed another glass of ice water his way. “Drink.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Leo snickered up until the point that Raiden crouched down to check his knee and started whispering to him. At that point, all humor left Leo’s face. Asher knew what was coming. Max strolled over to where the two of them were talking, and then he called Kane over. Yep, Leo had just been benched, and he was hating life.

  Leo was not someone who stayed behind the scenes and did coordination, he was the jump-out-of-the-seat-early action dude, which is what got him in this predicament in the first place. Now he was going to have to stay behind and man the fort.

  He got up from the couch and attempted to walk without a limp to the table. He did a pretty good job but fooled no one. He sat down between Asher and Rafa, and Kane stood behind the three of them. Rafa started pointing out things to him on his computer. Leo mustered up some fake enthusiasm.

  Rafa’s phone rang. Asher answered it. “Answer the next call that comes in.” Then hung up.

  He called out from his satellite phone and put it on speaker.

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  “Mike Carlson. I’m one of the Senior Specialists with Nomad Security. Señora Azua, Eden, Heinrich Becker and I have the phone in a private area. Who are you?”

  “I’m Asher Thorne, Petty Officer First Class of the United States Navy. You have an entire team of SEALs here. What’s the situation?”

  “We have ten civilians here at the bank. That includes Señora Azua who is wounded.” Carlson answered.

  “How bad?” Kane clipped out the question.

  “A bullet zinged her across the neck,” Eden jumped in. “No internal damage, but she’s hurting and it’s beginning to bruise around the wound. I’ve got ice on it, so it doesn’t swell any more than it has, I want to make sure her airway stays clear.”

  “Have you checked down her throat?” Kane asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of background do you have? Medic?” Kane continued to drill her.

  Here it goes. I hope she’s not a screw-up, cause Kane will eat her for breakfast.

  “A year of school that dealt specifically with animals. This included anatomy, physiology, and first aid. Let’s not forget I was the one on my father’s ranch who patched people up. I’ve got this.”

  “Besides pray, what are you going to do if her throat swells up and she can’t breathe?” Kane asked skeptically.

  “I’ll just have to do a tracheotomy, now won’t I?”

  “A lot of cows have needed those, have they?”

  “No, but I watched Grey’s Anatomy a bunch of times, doesn’t that count?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Look, don’t be an asshole. I will not let her die, I will get done what needs doing. I’ll YouTube what I need to, or I figure one of you very capable SEALs will walk me through the procedure. Are we done here?”

  “Okay, sounds like you have it covered as well as you can,” Kane relented.

  “Carlson, this is Asher again. How many non-civilians do you have with you?”

  “There’s me and one other man from Nomad Security, then there are four bank guards. Before you ask, we have plenty of firepower. They were worried about the zombie apocalypse, so they acquired an armory. And I’m not kidding.”

  “About the zombies, or the armory?” Ash wanted to know.

  “Carlson, you’re out of line,” Eden cut in. “With the gangs around here, it’s been like the wild west, and who in the hell was the Señora going to depend on, the secret police? She wasn’t just protecting the assets of this bank, she was protecting each and every one of her employees.”

  There was a long pause.

  “She wrote all of that out?” Asher asked.

  “She didn’t have to; anyone with two brain cells to rub together would know what was up. And by the way, she has just written down that Carlson is an asshole and that I was right.”

  From across the room, Lenora and Cynthia’s laughter joined Rafa’s.

  “Seriously, you don’t want to mess with my aunt. She will cut you up.” Rafa said.

  “Sounds like Eden will, too,” Asher muttered.

  “Now that the armory has been explained, let me tell you about the people we’ve lost.” Carlson’s voice was subdued. “My man was driving three other members of the financial contingent. We couldn’t get anyone to respond via cell or radio, then there was a report on the police band radio of a black SUV that was in a bad wreck with no survivors. We have to assume that’s ours. That could be a smokescreen. We could have people who have been taken by the secret police.”

  Asher heard a woman gasp. Was that Eden?

  “How did that happen?” Asher asked.

  “Patel said Rivers’ SUV had their tires shot out by the secret police. When he turned around to get them, their car had been rammed. He couldn’t stick around.”

  “Is there anything else?” Asher asked.

  A man answered with a distinct German accent. “I have been in contact with my Chancellor and she assures me that all of the Western allies have been in contact with the American government and have our own special forces members ready to work with you if that is required.”

  Asher winced. The idea of having international teams of Spec Ops descending on Caracas made him cringe, and when he looked around the room, he saw that everybody else was feeling the same way. What was worse, they all knew damn good an
d well that his call had been monitored by Madura’s men.

  Great, just fucking great.

  “Is this Heinrich Becker?” Max asked.

  “Yes, I’m the head of the IMF,” he answered. “And you are?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Max Hogan of the United States Navy SEAL Team. Myself and six of my men will extract you from the bank and take you to the airport where a plane will be waiting. You will then be transported to Puerto Rico.”

  “What about my six bank employees?” Señora Azua whispered in a harsh voice, then she started to cough. There was a long pause.

  “She’s right, Lieutenant Hogan. Are you planning on pulling these people out of Venezuela? What about their families, are you taking them as well? Have you thought this through?” Eden wasn’t strident, she was calmly asking questions on behalf of Suzanne Azua, making sure she was acting in the woman’s best interests.

  Max ran his hand through his close-cropped hair.

  “One of my men is going to make sure that Señora Azua gets the care she needs. That will be priority number one. Her being here in Venezuela will be natural. As for the other bank employees, they can come here to the Azua hacienda and leave at different times, so that they get home safely.”

  “How will you accomplish this?” Eden persisted.

  “We just will,” Asher jumped in. “It’s our job.”

  “But—”

  “Eden, you gotta trust us, we know what we’re doing. Can you do that?”

  Another long pause.

  “It goes against my nature, but I’ve got to believe in something. This is a shitstorm. Please just make sure you come through for these people. Please.”

  Chapter 5

  Leland clapped his hand on Eden’s shoulder after the line was disconnected. “They’re good. I might not know these men in particular, but I’ve served with SEALs before, and I believe in them. They’ll come through, just watch.”

  Eden was able to muster up a fake smile. Blindly believe in her dad? Her brothers? Hell, even Lori or Jenny, absolutely. But these guys? Hell, no. It was up to her and whoever else she deemed worth a damn.

  After Leland turned to talk to the other two men, Eden looked around the room to see who else might have half a brain cell during a crisis. Carlson was a definite yes, despite the fact his boss was a sniveling weasel who had abandoned everybody and headed for Aruba. Probably Patel. The bank guards? Too soon to tell. Leland with his military background sounded good… She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the pressure building up in her sinuses.

  Suzanne, who was resting against the arm of the couch beside Eden, tugged at Eden’s sleeve. She glanced up and saw that the men were deep in conversation. When she turned back to Suzanne, the woman made a gesture with her hand indicating she didn’t want them involved.

  Curious.

  Eden scooched over so she could hear Suzanne.

  “I,” Suzanne started to cough. Eden looked at her and noted that blood was seeping through the sky-blue pashmina.

  Dammit!

  “Use the notepad, Señora.” She nodded to the pad of paper Suzanne had grabbed from her purse.

  The woman started to shake her head in defiance and more blood seeped. She let out a slight moan of pain, not enough to get the men’s attention, but enough for Eden’s eyes to light up.

  Suzanne held up her hand to ward off the admonishment she was about to receive, and instead picked up the notepad and a pen.

  Tear this up after you’ve read it, she wrote in Spanish.

  Eden nodded.

  In the car, before I was shot, I texted my bank security passwords to my nephew. He’s a hacker. He’ll help the SEAL team to get into the bank.

  Eden took the written page, folded it, and put it in her skirt’s little pocket. Then she bent close to Señora Azua’s ear. In an almost non-existent whisper, she asked, “Why didn’t you say this in front of the men?”

  I don’t trust Becker or Carlson.

  Eden closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Really? We have a traitor in our midst? What the hell? That made no sense, why would anyone be on Maduro’s payroll? What could possibly be in it for them?

  She took the paper the Señora had written on and shoved it next to the other piece of paper.

  Eden made sure the men were still not looking at them, then whispered to Suzanne again. “Why wouldn’t you trust them?”

  Too many things went wrong while the Nomad Security Company was in charge. Becker hasn’t been working in Venezuela’s best interests during meetings. It’s almost as if he has investments with Maduro.

  Holy shit! That put an entirely different spin on a meeting she had translated between Becker, Dr. Nilsson, and the head of the Central bank.

  Looking at the men out of the corner of her eye, Eden skipped the pocket of her skirt and actually shoved that piece of paper inside her bra, which was deeper than her pockets.

  “Leland?” Eden whispered.

  Suzanne gave her a thumbs up.

  Thank God. She really liked the man and had been counting on him as an asset.

  “Hector?”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes, then wrote on her notepad.

  He’s useless. Guards are good. See if Torres is here. He’s excellent.

  The woman slumped back onto the arm of the sofa. She was spent. So was Eden. What the hell? Two possible traitors? There they were, the three of them, acting like fraternity buddies. All the time she’d been pretty sure Becker had known French and had been pleading ignorance so he could get out of talking to Schlessinger, but she’d never guessed that he’d had this much of a grasp of Spanish. Definitely not enough for the three of them to be conversing in it. How could I have missed all of those red flags?

  Suzanne grasped Eden’s hair and pulled her head down so she could whisper in her ear. “Family emergency code word is burning.”

  Suzanne’s eyes fluttered closed and she slowly slid sideways against the back cushion of the couch.

  Dammit. What did that mean? Code word? Sure, I had a code word with Jenny and Lori when we were ten, but the Azua’s have one now? What the hell?

  Eden grasped her hand and Suzanne gave a slight squeeze. Then she gestured for Eden to come close again. “I told you, no talking,” Eden whispered vehemently.

  “Is Señora Azua okay?” Carlson asked.

  “She’s conscious. Just tired. I think rest is the best thing for her.”

  Leland got up from his chair and towered over the sofa. “Do you mind?” motioning for Eden to get out of the way. “I’m going to reposition her.” He gently picked Suzanne up into his arms.

  Eden snagged the two decorative pillows from the couch and placed them at one end so that he could lie her down in a more comfortable position. After he was done, she watched as he took off his suit jacket and laid it over the woman.

  Before she had a chance to say anything else, she saw Schlessinger barreling into Azua’s private office. Great.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded in French.

  The three men looked at her, as if answering him was her problem.

  “Monsieur Becker can explain. I need to find the first aid kit for Senor Azua,” she said as she brushed past the obnoxious man.

  She heard Becker’s sigh as she left the room. Serves him right.

  Asher sucked down another glass of water with some Tylenol. Thank God the jackhammer in his head had toned down to just a bongo drum. It made it easy enough for him to really assess where the bank gate was the most vulnerable. Rafa was right; once they got past the gate, maneuvering around the building would be easy with the security codes that he’d been provided. Still, how to get into the gate without alerting the secret police—that was the problem.

  “It’s got to be done here at the southwest corner,” Kane said for the fourth time. His voice was seriously beginning to grate on Asher’s last nerve. He loved Kane, but the man didn’t know explosives like he did.

  �
�Kane, it is definitely more vulnerable there, but everybody and their brother will see what we’re doing. If we set the charges, here, here, and here,” Asher pointed at the three different stress points clustered together behind the building, “we can get the same effect.”

  “Yeah, but the odds of getting it just right are astronomical.”

  Asher shot Kane a disparaging look. “Do I go about doubting your computer geeky expertise? No. I just assume that somewhere, sometime, you ate a bunch of computer parts as a child and you are now part cyborg. Just quit second-guessing me and let me do my job.”

  Kane gave him a humble look. “First, I’m not a cyborg.”

  “No, he’s an android,” Cullen spoke up.

  “Second, I’m sorry. Totally out of line.”

  “Yep, you were,” Cullen chimed in.

  Both Asher and Kane said shut up at the same time. Cullen laughed.

  “But even after you do your magic—which of course you will because you are exceptionally good at your job—we still need to keep the secret police off our ass. That requires a diversion,” Cullen reminded them.

  “You mean something that includes an alligator?” Asher asked Cullen.

  “Nah, something with a little more bite,” Cullen grinned.

  Asher noticed Rafa watching them all talk, with a confused look on his face. Asher realized that even though the kid knew some English, this was going way over his head. What was worse, Leo was being left out. Not good.

  “Leo, you’re in charge of figuring out the diversion. Use Cullen’s experience as a professional dumbass to see what you can come up with.”

  “Leo, my services are at your disposal,” Cullen dipped his head with a grin. “First, we have to decide what costumes we want to wear to mingle in with the other people at Carnival.”

  “Oh God, my headache is getting worse,” Ash complained. “Time to leave you to it,” he got up from his chair. He and Kane headed over to Max.

  “Did anything new come in from Carter at CIA?” Max asked as he stepped away from the Azua women.

  Kane shook his head. “He’s been silent for the last hour since I told him we have all the details on the bank. He’s pissed as hell that Bradshaw skipped out to Aruba. Nomad Security has a pristine reputation internationally, so the fact that this happened is raising flags all over the world.”