Forty Days & One Knight: Trident Security Omega Team Book 2

by Samantha A. Cole

  Darius sidled up to her and sat on the next stool. “You know, a little por favor goes a long way in here.”

  She glared and frowned at him. “Who the hell are you?”

  “An American who knows how to get another beer without raising my voice.”

  An unladylike snort erupted from her, and then she indicated with a flash of her hand for him to order for her.

  After about fifteen minutes of flirting, Lindsey’s character decided to get even with her cheating boyfriend and invited Darius to accompany her to a hostel up the street. They pulled on their heavy jackets and then Darius threw some pesos on the bar for a tip. On their way out the door, the knowing smirks they got from his cartel comrades said their charade had worked perfectly. Darius waved to one of them. “Hey, Torres. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsey saw Darius leer at her ass and grin. He raised his voice a little louder. “Better make that two hours.”

  There were cat calls and whistles as they strode out into the cold night air. “Ride her hard, amigo!”

  Once they were about a block away from the bar and certain no one was following them, Lindsey shook her head at Darius. “I need a shower. I can’t remember the last time I felt so skeevy.”

  He put his arm across the back of her shoulders and pulled her in close, sharing his body heat. “As always, Costello, you did good. Next time, though, don’t go so easy on Romeo. He needs a good ass-kicking every once in a while.”

  “That he does, but he made me promise to let him block the kick to his gonads.”

  Lindsey loved the esprit de corps she’d found with the men of Trident Security, especially the Omega Team. While she’d been close to some of her teammates in the Marines, she’d also dealt with sexual harassment in the Corp as well. There were many men who had thought she was a little piece of puff, unable to do the same job they did, but she’d proved them wrong, time after time. What had gained the respect of the unit she’d been assigned to for several tours in Iraq and Afghanistan had been that she’d placed first in her sniper school and had saved their asses on numerous occasions as a result. There were several from her team that she’d kept in contact with since opting out and joining Trident. She’d been surprised when none of her new teammates had given her a hassle over the fact she was a woman. They didn’t take it easy on her in training—which was actually a sign of respect—and they’d never given any indication they thought less of her as a woman. In addition to being her co-workers, the men of Trident had also become her friends. They laughed and joked with her, hung out with her, and had never hit on her. She felt they were more her brothers than her real brothers had ever been. Their significant others had welcomed her as well. The women had never given her any indication they felt threatened by Lindsey’s status as the only female on the teams, aside from TS’s helicopter pilot/mechanic, Tempest “Babs” Van Buren. In fact, they often invited the two women to their girls’ nights out, which was always a load of fun.

  Darius and Lindsey chatted and laughed as they walked into the hostel via a side entrance, and he followed her up the stairs to where the others were waiting for them in one of the rooms. There were a few more people than she’d expected there to be, and they were all standing around the small bedroom. Members of both the Alpha and Omega teams were there, in addition to several men she’d never seen before.

  The first person Darius held his hand out to and greeted was Ian. “Hey, Boss-man. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “Actually, you were the bearer of good news, in a way.” He stepped to the side and that’s when Lindsey noticed Mousaf Amar. Her heart rate picked up as every cell in her body became aware of the man she hadn’t seen in several months, and she almost missed Ian’s next words. “The King had already been notified of the princess’s kidnapping. We had boots on the ground in Jamaica with Amar when Romeo called us.”

  The head of Timasur’s royal guard gave her a friendly smile before he shook Darius’s hand. “How is Her Royal Highness, Knight?”

  Lindsey wasn’t put off by the tepid acknowledgement of her presence. The two had ended up in each other’s arms several months ago, after dancing around each other for quite some time. However, before things could really heat up, Amar had been called away on an urgent matter at the royal family’s estate in Clearwater Beach. That had been the last time they’d had a chance to be alone together. Since she didn’t think anyone knew of their attraction to each other, she was grateful he was keeping it under wraps, just as she was. However, she wished her body would get the message to keep things hush-hush because it was reacting to simply being in the same room with the man. His deep, smooth voice had her female parts tingling.

  Darius took off his coat. “Holding her own, at the moment. She’s in an underground prison area, with her two cousins and the other women the cartel plans to auction off. She’s not aware of my presence, and I’m trying to keep it that way until it’s time to rescue her. I can’t have her giving away my cover.”

  “Understood.”

  “Other than that, she’s a tough cookie. So is the taller of the two cousins—”

  “Lahana,” Amar supplied. “Nala is the younger one.”

  Darius nodded. “Yeah, Nala’s the one that’s been freaking out a bit—which, of course, is completely understandable.”

  “She is only nineteen and the daughter of Queen Azhar’s sister. The cruise was the first trip she’s taken without her parents or her brothers. Lahana is twenty-four and the daughter of the king’s brother. She has been afforded more freedom since turning twenty-one, however, on trips like the cruise, the women are always accompanied by at least one of their family members. In this case, it was Farid and a friend of his.”

  Darius, Lindsey, and Val all rolled their eyes. They’d met Farid on more than one occasion, and they all had a dislike for the man who seemed to think anyone who wasn’t considered royalty to be beneath him. He treated the staff at the Clearwater Beach mansion like dirt. The only person he would answer to there was Amar or whomever oversaw security at the time, as long as it was someone from the royal guards—the contract agents, i.e. the employees of Trident Security—were peons according to the little twerp. He’d also crudely hit on Lindsey a few times, which made her despise the creep even more. Not wanting to cause problems between Trident and the royal family, she’d kept that to herself, however, she’d made it painfully clear to Farid the last time he’d propositioned her and put his hands on her that his actions were unacceptable. The man had needed to ice his bruised balls after that encounter.

  Taking control of the meeting, Ian quickly introduced Darius and Lindsey to several members of the royal guard and three Deimos operatives she’d only met once. Surprisingly, the only two US black-ops spies she, personally, did know weren’t there.

  “Where are Carter and Jordyn?” Lindsey asked, glancing around the room. The couple was supposed to be in attendance for the upcoming raid.

  “They got held up on something else,” Ian replied. “Moving the time-frame up had us scrambling. We have several eyes on the compound, with more bodies on the way. Babs is also en route to Bolivia to contract a helo from a merc she used to serve with—I want a fast way to exfil the hostages. So, there will be plenty of boots on the ground by zero hour.”

  Lindsey hoped so—with all the surprises as of late, there was always a chance things would go FUBAR. As if it wasn’t already fucked up enough.

  Stepping over to the bed, Darius stared down at several maps that had been spread out. Locating the one depicting the Diaz estate, he put it on top of the others. “All right, let’s start breaking this down. I’ve got two hours max to rock Costello’s world and then get back to the bar.”

  Several men chuckled, and Lindsey grinned as she playfully smacked Darius on the back of his head. “In your dreams, Batman. In your dreams.”

  8

  The door to the cell area opened, and Secada dragged Lahana in by her upper arm. T
ahira jumped to her feet. Her cousin’s hair was in disarray, her eyes were red and swollen, and she had a bloody, fat lip. Bruises covered her face, arms, and legs. Her gaze was vacant, as if she’d been drugged. Tahira hoped she wouldn’t be able to remember the assault. That would probably be best from the looks of things. Lahana was still wearing her bathing suit, but her sarong and sandals were missing.

  As Secada unlocked the door to their cell, Tahira felt a rage she’d never experienced before. “What did you do to her? You bastard!”

  The man sneered cruelly at her, while shoving Lahana into the cell before closing the door behind her again. She fell to the floor, and Tahira dropped to her knees beside her, pushing Lahana’s hair back from her abused face. Secada shut the cell door again. “Nothing she didn’t enjoy.”

  Before she realized what she was doing, Tahira was on her feet and lunging at the man, her arms extending past the bars. But Secada took a step back, out of her reach. “Hmm. Your cousin was feisty, but it looks like you’ll be even more of a challenge. Maybe tomorrow night, you and I will have some fun.”

  A combination of fear and rage coursed through Tahira and flared in her eyes. Secada cackled loudly as he turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Oh, yes. I definitely think we’ll play before you’re sold, princesa.”

  The door clanged shut. Spinning around, Tahira joined Nala who’d crawled over to Lahana. The injured woman was moaning in pain as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lips and hands trembled as she grabbed Tahira’s arm. “H-he h-hurt me, T-Tahira.”

  With tears welling up in her own eyes, she petted Lahana’s long, dark hair with a soothing motion. “I know he did. I am so sorry, my cousin. There is nothing I can do to change what happened. If only I could take away your pain, I would. Just know that I am I here for you. Nala and I will take care of you.”

  Tahira’s head whipped around at the sound of the door opening again. One of the guards strode in with a bucket and some rags and set them down just outside of their cell. He pointed at Tahira, and there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his eyes or voice when he said, “Clean her up. We’ll hide her bruises with makeup and clothes for the auction.”

  Without another word, he left. Silence filled the air, broken only by the occasional sob or whisper from one of the other women. Tahira reached between the bars, grabbed one of the rags, and wet it. Returning to Lahana, she gently wiped her face, neck, shoulders, and arms. Angry red welts circled her throat.

  “Did he strangle you?” Tahira asked.

  “Y-Yes. While he—he was . . .” Lahana gulped and cried harder, and Tahira could figure out what she’d left unsaid. “I—I almost passed out, and all he did was laugh.”

  She did her best to clean away the evidence of the assault. She could see Lahana’s eyelids getting heavy. “It is over now . . . you will be okay. Just close your eyes.”

  In the next cell, Melinda sat on the floor next to the row of bars that separated her from the three cousins. “If he gave her the same stuff as the others, she’ll sleep for a few hours. If she’s lucky, she’ll forget what happened when she wakes up—some do, some don’t.”

  Tahira nodded, her heart heavy with sorrow for Lahana. When they were rescued, she would make sure her cousin received the best care, physically and emotionally. And she was certain they would be rescued. Once the royal guard discovered the three women were missing, they’d move heaven and earth to find them. Amar would immediately bring in every special operative he knew to help. Ian Sawyer would be his first call—over the past eighteen months or so, Tahira had become close to the retired Navy SEAL and his wife. She no longer saw him as a guard, but as an older brother or uncle who cared for her well-being. She cared about his employees, as well. In fact, she looked forward to her visits to the United States when the Trident Security teams would join her bodyguards in watching over her. Yes, she loved to tease many of them—taking them shoe shopping was one of her favorite ways to rile them—but she trusted them completely and thought very highly of them. They were honorable men and many of them had found their soul mates. She loved to discover when one of them had fallen in love. Sometimes she knew before they did just from studying their auras. Yes, Ian, Amar, and their teams would find them—Tahira just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  “Then I will pray that she does.”

  Several months ago . . .

  Darius took a bite of the sandwich he’d just made and then glanced toward the hallway leading to the foyer as the sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. He’d pulled “Princess duty” tonight after several guards, stationed at the Clearwater Beach mansion with Her Royal Highness, had come down with some stomach virus that had them puking and shitting up a storm. The captain in charge had contacted Trident Security to fill in for the incapacitated guards, and Darius had pulled one of the short straws. So, there he was, at two o’clock in the morning, wondering who else was up besides the two bodyguards from Trident’s Personal Protection Division, who were walking the perimeter of the gated estate, and the one monitoring the security cameras in a little cottage in the backyard. No alarms had gone off and all the windows and doors were locked up tight, so whoever it was belonged there.

  A shadow flashed a moment before Princess Tahira sashayed in. She gasped when she spotted him, then relaxed again. “Darius Knight, shame on you for startling me. I did not realize anyone was down here.”

  He stood in respect of her title, but he couldn’t keep the slight sarcasm from his voice. “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness. Next time I’ll leave a sign at the bottom of the stairs to let you know I’m in here taking my dinner break.”

  Giving him a small smile, she strode over to the commercial-sized refrigerator and opened the door to the freezer, pulling out a pint of Häagen-Dazs ice cream. As she moved about the kitchen, he finally noticed what she was wearing. No sexy lingerie or satin pajamas for the glamorous princess. Nope, she was wearing cotton lounge pants with Hello Kitty all over them. The matching pink T-shirt was a size too big for her. Glancing down, he saw she had a pair of fuzzy, pink slippers on her feet. Her face was devoid of makeup, and her hair was held back from her face by a black, fabric band. She looked cute, and he quickly shook the thought from his head. This was Princess Tahira—the woman who could make his life miserable with the mere mention of two words . . . shoe shopping. Thank God there were no stores open at this hour.

  After grabbing a spoon from a drawer, she approached the table and took a seat across from him. “Please sit, Darius Knight. That is if you do not mind me joining your repast.”

  Sitting, he picked up his sandwich again. “I don’t mind at all, Your Highness, as long as you call me either Darius or Knight, not both names together.”

  “I apologize. It is a habit I have had for a very long time, but I am trying to break it when I am in the United States. Obviously, I am still working on it.” She put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, savoring it a moment before swallowing. “Do you have a preference? Darius or Knight?”

  He shrugged as he chewed a bite of his sandwich. A sip of soda washed it down. “Nope. Whatever you want to call me is fine. You can even use my nickname.”

  “Batman? No. I would feel silly calling you that . . . besides, I am a Superman fan.” He chuckled at that surprising fact. “I think I will call you Darius. It is a strong name, and it suits you. Did you know that it means kingly or wealthy?”

  “No, I didn’t. It’s a family name. My grandfather was Darius and his grandfather was too.”

  “Hmm. Maybe there is a royal bloodline in your family from a long time ago. In fact, Darius the Great was one of three Persian kings to have that name.”

  He snorted and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but if I’m in line for a throne somewhere, there’s probably a few thousand people who are ahead of me.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying their food, but Darius found he wanted to hear her talk some more. He had a feeling he was seeing a girl-next-door q
uality to the princess she rarely showed the public.

  “So, where did you get the habit?” When she raised her perfectly-arched eyebrows at him, he clarified, “I mean, calling people by both their given name and surname.”

  “Ah. It started when I was about ten. As a member of the royal family, I am constantly being introduced to people—sometimes dozens in a single day—and many of them have the same first or last name. I found it easier to remember their names if I repeated both names in my head several times after hearing them for the first time. Some people have photographic memories, I have a memory for names. I see them in my mind like you might see them in a . . . oh, what is that thing called again? It is a bunch of small cards on a wheel.”

  His brow furrowed, and then a light bulb went off in his head. “A Rolodex?” he asked.

  She smiled triumphantly. “Yes! That is it. A Rolodex. It sits on a desk, yes, with names and phone numbers on the cards?”

  “Yup. You remember those things? I haven’t seen one in ages.”

  “When I was little, my mother’s secretary had one; I liked sitting at her desk and spinning it.” Tilting her head, she studied him for a few moments. “You are a very handsome man.”

  Darius stood, picked up his empty plate, and carried it to the sink. “Well, that didn’t take long,” he murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “For you to hit on me.” He cleaned the plate in the sink, then set it on a rack on the counter to dry. “You do know that Ian threatens all his operatives with unemployment and castration if they mess around with you, right?”

  “Mess around? You mean if they try to get me in their beds. Yes, I do know that. Although, I do believe the warning is that my father will see to the castration. However, I was not hitting on you, as you say. I was merely making an observation. It is not often I can let my guard down and act like a normal woman.”