Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  Max stretched out beside her in the foxhole.

  “Now what?” she whispered.

  “Now we wait for the fireworks to begin.”

  She gathered from the chatter of the SEAL team that they were in positions all around the island. The plan was to converge on the bad guys wherever they ultimately came ashore. There was a fair bit of discussion of how to control fields of fire if Lissa’s prediction of four separate landing teams came to pass.

  Most of the technical language of known and unknown corridors and pie wedge angles made no sense to her, but Max seemed to approve of whatever he was hearing. The chatter wound down, and her defenders settled into waiting silence once more.

  Another ten minutes or so passed. Finally she asked Max, “How come the bad guys haven’t landed yet?”

  “They’re watching the island for any signs of movement to get an idea of what they’re walking into. They’re not in any hurry.”

  “Will they use heat-seeking goggles like we have?”

  “Most likely.” He added in light humor, “But they don’t have the cool bodysuits the SEALs have.”

  “What’s so cool about them?”

  “They block heat signatures from escaping.”

  “How?”

  “Classified technology.”

  She did her best to stay calm and alert, ready to react to whatever she was told to do. But then she felt a disturbance in the energies swirling around her. “Max, someone’s coming.”

  “The hit squad is on the move?”

  “No. A big boat or something is headed this way. It has a bunch of people on it.”

  “As in reinforcements?”

  “As in an army.”

  “You hear that, Ashe?” Max asked tersely.

  “Yup. Can she pick up a head count or direction of approach?”

  The SEAL named Ford interrupted. “I’ve got movement at 090 degrees. My pair is backing off.”

  Trina piped up. “Mine, too. The bass boat is backing off. Turning around.”

  Ashe spoke quickly. “Okay, so the four teams were doing reconnaissance. They’ll back off and brief a larger strike force. Max, does it sound logical that they’d come in hot?”

  “It’s their style,” Max replied tersely. “Particularly if they think they have a numerical edge.” Which, of course, they did.

  She gathered that coming in hot referred to charging in guns blazing, without any attempt at stealth, relying on brute force and overwhelming numbers to win the day.

  “We need a direction of approach,” Ashe said urgently. “If they have one large vessel, they’ll have to come ashore at a single beachhead. We’ll have to mass our firepower to hold off the assault.”

  She was no military expert, but even she knew that this was not good. The SEALs were widely spaced all over the island and it would take time for them to converge to defend against a major attack. In the meantime, whichever SEAL took the brunt of the initial push was going to be in deep trouble.

  She turned off her throat mike. “This isn’t worth it, Max. Let me surrender to these guys and save all of you.”

  “Negative,” he replied sharply.

  She noted that he’d pulled the assault weapon off his shoulder and had it lying ready beside him. The plan hadn’t included him participating in the firefight. He was supposed to worry only about protecting Lissa in the unlikely event that an assassin managed to slip past the SEALs. Apparently, that eventuality was looking a lot more likely now.

  He reached down to his ankle and passed her a pistol. He asked her quietly, “Ever handle a gun before?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. Put your thumb in this groove here. Keep your finger off the trigger until you plan to shoot. Prop your arms out in front of you straight, like so.” He positioned her body correctly and showed her how to look down the short barrel and sight the weapon. But then he said wryly, “Don’t shoot until your target is within a dozen feet, though. Less chance of you missing that way. And whatever you do, don’t close your eyes when you shoot. You have to look at your target.”

  He knew her too well. She could see herself squeezing her eyes shut and firing blindly in panic.

  “The gun will jump like crazy in your hands and be loud as hell. Ignore all that and just concentrate on firing your next round. One shot at a time. Got it?”

  “Don’t tell me any more. I won’t remember it.”

  “Right. Just one more thing.” He reached over and flipped a little switch on the side of the heavy pistol. “Safety’s off now. Your weapon is live.”

  She gulped as he switched on her throat mike again.

  About a minute later, a wave of violent intent rolled over her, crushing all the air out of her lungs. She whispered urgently, “They’re coming.”

  CHAPTER 15

  How she knew the assault force was making its move, Max didn’t know. But neither did he question it.

  Ashe announced, “Look sharp, everyone.” Which was probably as close to an endorsement of her skill as a SEAL would ever give a psychic.

  If only they knew the direction the attack was coming from. This had way too much potential to turn into a bloodbath. Lissa fairly hummed with tension beside him. He took several slow, calming breaths, but violence was close to the surface in him tonight, ready to explode at the slightest movement. No one was hurting her on his watch.

  “If only I could see them,” she breathed.

  She’d said before that violence triggered her visions. He sure as hell was feeling violent right now. Adrenaline roared through his veins, and the hunter within him ached for something to kill. He reached across his weapon to her and laid his palm on her cheek. “Find them, Lissa,” he murmured.

  Lissa glanced over at him, startled, but then her eyes glazed over with another vision. It took her a few seconds, but then she said, “The dock. They’re landing at the dock so they can run down it and come ashore fast.”

  “Got that, Ashe?” Max bit out.

  “Roger.”

  He waited for the team leader to pull his operators off the north end of the island and send them to the dock in the south, but Ashe was silent.

  “She’s not wrong, Ashe,” Max urged the SEAL.

  “You willing to bet your lives on it?” Ashe growled.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Go, Ford. Brand and Jackie, you, too.” Ashe’s voice sounded as though he was doing something strenuous while he gave the orders, like maybe sprinting at a dead run with sixty pounds of gear, gun and ammo.

  Max caught a glimpse of a figure running south through the trees. God, they were taking a huge chance. The whole north side of the island was wide-open now, completely undefended. If Lissa was wrong, the hit squad could waltz right up the driveway and mow her down without having to duck a single bullet. Never in his entire life had he felt so naked and vulnerable.

  A light hand touched the side of his neck. “It’ll be okay, Max. I’ve seen it.”

  She might catch glimpses of possible futures, but the hard work still had to be done to make them happen. And this fight was far from over.

  A patter that sounded like hail on a glass window made him start. Gunfire. It had begun.

  He was impressed at the lack of conversation among the SEALs as they went about their business. What few orders became necessary were spoken in calm tones.

  And then he heard a more ominous sound. The distinctive scream of man-portable missile fire. Holy crap. The fight had just gotten real. Fast.

  Ashe ordered his team to pull back under the withering fire to less exposed positions.

  Another barrage of gunfire exploded. Within it, he heard individual loud shots every thirty seconds or so. That would be Ford and Trina, the two snipers, working with th
eir big sniper rigs. He expected that each sharp report of sound announced a kill. He’d seen SEAL snipers at work before, and at the close range they were firing from tonight, neither Ford nor Trina would miss.

  “Fall back to Position Charlie,” Ashe ordered tersely.

  Ashe was starting to sound a wee bit tense. And there was only one more fallback position before the house. He started to seriously contemplate moving Lissa farther north, away from the firefight that could spill onto the lawn just in front of them at any moment.

  “Fall back to Delta,” Ashe ordered.

  Oh, man. It had taken less than a minute for the Russians to flush the SEALs out of Position Charlie.

  “Want me to pull back Lissa?” he dared to distract Ashe by asking.

  “Yes. Go.” Ashe was obviously under enough pressure not to be able to say any more.

  Max gestured Lissa to her feet and pointed into the heavy underbrush at their backs. He didn’t like having to send her first, but he needed to stay between her and the bulk of the firefight, which meant he would bring up the rear behind her. He mouthed, “Gun up. Be quiet.”

  She nodded. Her eyes looked twice their normal size. No help for it.

  They moved out slowly. The undergrowth was all but impassable, and each step was a struggle. He did his best to pull the brambles and saw grass back into position behind them to slow down their pursuers, and he prayed that it would be enough.

  “Fall back to the house,” Ashe ordered. “Arm the minefield.”

  Max swore under his breath. The SEAL team was having to resort to blowing land mines?

  He started counting seconds in his head as he and Lissa continued their painfully slow retreat.

  Kaboom.

  Dammit. Under a minute until the Russians had made it to the backyard. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of island left behind them to retreat to.

  Without warning, Lissa squeaked behind him. Or at least she started to. He whipped around as the sound cut off abruptly enough to send him into full kill mode. A black shadow had Lissa in its grip, hand over her mouth, using her body as a human shield.

  He took an aggressive step toward the attacker until the man muttered, “Easy, bro. It’s me. Bastien.”

  He exhaled hard. He’d almost killed the cop.

  Bastien mouthed, “Follow me.”

  The path that Bastien had used to approach them was relatively clear. All too soon, though, the cop halted. Black water yawned before them.

  “Now what?” Lissa wailed in a bare whisper.

  “Into the water,” Bastien answered grimly.

  “Oh, God,” Lissa breathed.

  Personally, he shared the sentiment. But he responded, “SEALs are most at home in water. We’re going into their best hunting ground, baby. It’ll be okay.”

  “But...alligators,” she whispered as they waded out into the cold water.

  “More afraid of you than you are of them,” Bastien replied in a voice so low it would only carry a few feet.

  When they were chest deep, Bastien paused to smear something black all over both of their faces. “Camo grease,” the former SEAL explained. “Your weapons will still work wet,” he added.

  They hid behind a fallen tree, and Lissa felt little bits of bark and dirt sticking to her face.

  Bastien transmitted over the team frequency, “We’re at Location X-Ray. Have fun, boys and girls.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked him off radio.

  “Now that the only moving targets on the island are bad guys, the SEAL team will cut loose.” And no sooner had the words left his mouth than a barrage of gunfire exploded in front of them. It was continuous and deafening and sounded like hell on earth. Before long the sounds of men shouting in Russian could be heard. They sounded panicked and disorganized.

  Lissa jolted as several men she didn’t recognize came into sight along the shore and commenced camouflaging themselves and setting an ambush with big, scary-looking rifles. They looked like the sniper rifles Ford and Trina had been carrying earlier.

  Max and Bastien traded wolfish smiles beside her. They let the men get entirely set and still, and then Max and Bastien eased out of the water far enough to brace their weapons on the big log in front of them. A nod between the two men and they opened fire on the unprotected backs of the hidden Russian snipers.

  She flinched violently at the noise and speed with which the Russians were killed. Bastien went ashore to check the slumped bodies, presumably for pulses, and then he disappeared into the trees.

  The gunfire wound down, and Max cautiously led her toward the shore, as well. They were maybe waist deep when something that felt like a fist grabbed her ankle and yanked her under the water violently.

  It was black and cold and she couldn’t breathe and the thing that had grabbed her was holding her under. She thrashed around in panic. Her lungs burned and her body screamed for her to breathe. She was going to drown!

  Her arm banged into something that felt like the vests the SEALs wore. Shock and comprehension roared through her. This wasn’t an alligator. It was a man. The bastard must be using scuba gear.

  Lights danced before her eyes, and her grip on consciousness was slipping fast. She fumbled at her hip, and her fist closed on the metal grip of the pistol. She yanked it out. Using the fist around her ankle as a guide, she pointed the weapon and pulled the trigger. Bastien said it would work wet. Hopefully it would work submerged.

  The gun jerked in her hand and she all but lost her grip on it. She fired again. It was going to be a miracle if she didn’t shoot her foot off. She fired a third time, her self-control at refusing to breathe in water all but gone.

  The fist abruptly released her ankle. She flailed around a moment more until her foot hit squishy mud. The bottom. She pushed off it hard and burst up to the surface with a mighty gasp.

  “Max!” she cried.

  He was nowhere in sight. Had there been another assassin lurking under the water who’d gotten him?

  A dark-faced man burst up to the surface like she just had, gasping for air. She started to swing her pistol in his direction, but then she caught a glimpse of pale hair. Familiar cheekbones under black greasepaint. Frantic eyes.

  She surged forward, impeded by the water.

  He did the same, wrapping her tightly in his arms when he finally got to her. “Thank God, Lissa. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “A man. Grabbed my ankle. Pulled me under.” She panted, still trying to catch her breath.

  “Let’s get you out of the water,” They swim-waded ashore and lay down beside the corpses of their would-be killers. Body warmth still emanated from the one pressed against her back.

  “Are you sure they’re dead?” she whispered to Max.

  “Oh, yeah. Bastien would have seen to it if they weren’t already dead when he came ashore.”

  “So many people dead. Why? I’m not worth all this carnage.”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about the spy protecting his identity at all costs. He’ll throw everyone he’s got under the bus to save himself. It’s classic spy behavior.”

  “Then why didn’t you just hand me over to the Russians to save yourself?”

  He stared down at her for a long moment. “Because I love you.”

  “You waited until I’m soaking wet, covered in swamp filth and black grease, shivering cold and stinking to high heaven to say that?” she groused. “You couldn’t have picked a slightly more romantic moment to have announced it?”

  He grinned down at her, equally wet, filthy, shivering and stinky. “There’s no time like the present. Besides, if I love you in spite of all that, you know I really mean it.”

  She rolled on her side and threw her arms around him. “I love you back, you crazy, wonderful man.”

 
“Who’s calling whom crazy?” he murmured against her lips. “I thought you were supposed to be the crazy one.”

  “Which makes you even crazier for loving me.”

  He kissed her with a reverence that all but made her sob. She broke it off to ask, “Are you sure about this? You know I’m going to figure out all of your secrets.”

  “I don’t have any left. Other than the fact that I’ll never be a good enough man to deserve you.”

  “Oh, Max. You’ve been good enough for me ever since the night you saved me from that mugger. Everything else you’ve done for me has been frosting on the cake.”

  He stared down at her in the darkness. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Dead sure.”

  He smiled a little. “Either a deeply unfortunate or exactly appropriate choice of words.”

  “I choose the latter. Now stop overthinking this and kiss me.”

  CHAPTER 16

  It took the SEALs, and the FBI team they called in, most of the night to clear the island, gather bodies and haul away the survivors. Max and Lissa were whisked off the island under a tarp in the bottom of a speedboat and then hidden in a hotel well away from the aftermath of the gun battle.

  At about sunrise, Lissa’s cell phone rang. Startled, she answered it eagerly. “Jennie, thank God. Maybe you can tell us. Is everyone on the island okay? The FBI won’t tell us a thing.”

  “Any number of Russians on the island are not okay. But all of our friends are fine. A few minor injuries here and there. Nothing to write home about.”

  Lissa relayed the news to Max, who gave a big sigh of relief. “So what can I do for you, Jennie?” she asked.

  “It’s what I can do for you. I found a picture of Markus Petrov. I’m going to send it to you now. Lemme know if he’s our guy.”

  In a second, Lissa’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text. She pulled up the picture and gasped. She put the phone back to her ear. “That’s him!”