by Susan Stoker
“Drive safe,” Rocco said, then hung up the phone.
Rex closed his eyes and thought about the last time he’d seen Avery. He’d gone over to the hospital to say goodbye before her mission. She’d been laughing with another nurse when he’d seen her, and he’d been struck once more by how pretty she was. Her bright red hair shone in the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital and every time he saw her, he swore more freckles had popped out on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
He’d approached and, after seeing him, she had smiled so big, he felt as if he was truly the center of her world at that moment.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey back,” she’d responded.
“Heard you’re headed out soon.”
“Yeah. The day after tomorrow.”
Rex had opened his mouth to ask if she wanted to get some coffee or something before she left, but just then an alarm sounded from one of the rooms, and she gave him a look of apology. “Sorry, I need to go check that out.”
“It’s okay,” Rex had said. “Be safe over there, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
She’d given him a look he couldn’t interpret, but eventually nodded. “I’d like that,” she’d said.
Then she was gone. Hurrying down the hall to check on her patient.
“I should’ve asked her out,” Rex said out loud, opening his eyes and resuming packing for the unexpected mission.
He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He knew more than most how short life was. How quickly things could change. He’d been an idiot, and he hoped like hell he’d have a chance to fix things. He knew without having to ask for details from Rocco that they’d be going in to rescue Avery and the others.
“Hang on, Avery,” he whispered. “Just hang on. We’re comin’ for you.”
Avery Nelson blinked, but just like the last two hundred thousand and twenty-three times she’d blinked, nothing changed. She still couldn’t see anything. Not a spec of light anywhere. Her head was throbbing, and she knew she’d gotten a concussion when an RPG had hit the clinic she’d been hunkered down next to.
The large piece of concrete that had fallen and hit her on the head hadn’t done her any favors. She’d been disoriented, and when one of the terrorists who’d attacked the convoy had run across her, she hadn’t been able to protect herself. He’d forced her into one of the trucks carrying the American weapons and had driven up into the mountains with her, the guns, and two other hostages from the convoy.
She’d been thrown into one of the hundreds of caves in the mountainside and beaten to within an inch of her life. She hadn’t seen the other two hostages since she’d arrived, but she’d seen plenty of terrorists.
They’d stashed the weapons that had been in the trucks they’d stolen from the convoy in a cave near where they’d been holding her. And everyone who came to get a weapon had been invited to gawk at her. To hit her if they wished. To torture her.
As a part of her training, she’d been taught how to withstand torture. How to stay strong in the face of adversity. But she was almost at the end of her rope.
The men had taken her boots, and she was in nothing but the dark tan T-shirt she wore under her desert camo uniform and her cargo pants. She hadn’t been raped, but the beatings and the mental torture had been just as bad.
They’d enter the small alcove where she’d been tied up and sit just out of reach to eat their lunch. They’d pour out bottles of water at her feet, then laugh as she fell to her knees to try to suck the liquid off the ground. They’d bring her moldy bread and rotting meat, and take great pleasure in watching her attempt to keep from throwing it up.
The only thing that had kept her alive this long was the fact they left her alone at night. They’d make sure the chain around her ankle was secure, then leave her with only one guard outside the cave. When darkness fell, she’d silently crawl over to the wall of the alcove and lick the water dripping down the sides of the rocks.
She’d spied it her first day as she’d lay in the dirt in agonizing pain from the rock that had fallen on her head back in town and from the beating she’d gotten. The men didn’t seem to even notice it. That water was her salvation. Without it, she wouldn’t even have been able to stand. Her body would’ve begun shutting down by now.
As a nurse, she knew better than most what the human body was capable of, and without water, it was doomed to fail.
But yesterday, her hell had been different.
No one had come to pick up any weapons. No one had thrown stale and moldy food at her, laughing when she ate it as if it were the best thing she’d ever tasted.
In the early afternoon, a group of men had arrived but they didn’t come into the back alcove where she was being held. Then there was silence after the men left.
Avery felt her hopes rise. If they left her alone, even for an hour, she would find a way to get out of the shackle attached to her ankle and get the hell out of there.
But instead, not too long after they’d left, there had been a large explosion, leaving Avery in pitch dark.
She’d been in darkness ever since. Without being able to see the sun rising and setting, she had no idea how much time had passed. Didn’t know if it was day or night.
But she wasn’t going to give up. No way. Those assholes thought they’d killed her or buried her alive, but they were wrong. Their mistake was not shooting her in the head before they’d blown up the entrance to the cave.
Ever since she’d managed to use a rock to smash the links of the chain attaching her ankle to the floor of the cave, she’d been gradually, one rock at a time, doing her best to unbury herself.
It was slow going, but Avery didn’t stop. Big rocks. Small rocks. Rocks so big she could only roll them out of the way by sitting on her ass and using her feet and legs to push. It didn’t matter if she had to dig her way to China, she was getting out of this cave.
Except, with every day that went by, she got weaker and weaker. Her pants were loose enough that they were almost falling off her hips. She wasn’t dehydrated, as she had all the water she could drink, thanks to the drip along the wall in the back alcove. But soon, even that wouldn’t be enough.
Shaking, Avery forced herself to crawl toward where the opening to the cave had been and pick up another rock. She cradled it to her chest and shuffled backward, placing the rock behind her and off to the side, along with the others she’d moved so far.
She was exhausted, but refused to give up.
Eventually something had to give. Either the terrorists would come back—which was highly unlikely since they assumed she would die in their man-made tomb—or she’d move enough rocks to get out of her prison. What would happen then, Avery had no idea. The area was most likely crawling with terrorists or sympathizers. How she’d get back to the American base, with nothing on her feet but a pair of socks, she had no idea. But she wasn’t going to quit.
Blinking once again and hoping like hell she’d see some sliver of light coming from the rock pile, which would mean she was close to breaking free, she sighed in disappointment when the utter blackness didn’t abate.
Crawling back to the pile of rocks, Avery picked up a small one and threw it as hard as she could behind her. She was scared, tired, hungry, and her head was throbbing. But she couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t.
As she continued, she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone knew she was missing. If anyone was looking for her.
Stopping for a moment, Avery sat back on her heels. She closed her eyes, not that it made a difference, since darkness was darkness, and prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life.
I’m here. I’m right here. Please, someone find me.
Then, taking a big breath and wincing at the pain in her bruised ribs from the beatings she’d endured, she picked up another rock.
*
Find out if the SEAL team can find Avery in Securing Avery.
(And of course Securing Kalee is coming up as well…poor Pha
ntom!)
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And as a bonus…want to find out more about Eva Dawkins? The pilot? Where she is now? What she’s doing? If her ex continues to be a threat? Or if someone ELSE is a threat?Riley Edwards has written her story in my fan-fiction world and this story is one you will WANT to read! Pick up Maximus now!
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Also, be sure to check out a sneak peek below of my NEW Delta Team Two series starting in April with Shielding Gillian!
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Shielding Gillian
Shielding Gillian
Blurb:
As an event planner, Gillian Romano’s an expert at rolling with the punches and solving unexpected problems. But her flight getting hijacked while returning from a job is definitely out of her skill set. Passengers are being murdered, and when she’s chosen by the terrorists to be their mouthpiece, even more innocent lives rest on Gillian’s shoulders. Only the calm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line keeps her sane, forging a bond with a stranger she’s never seen but trusts with her life.
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Walker “Trigger” Nelson and his Delta Force team have spent years training for close-quarter hostage rescue. When they get called to South America to attempt to save an airplane full of hostages, he doesn’t expect to meet a woman who rocks his world in the middle of the op. Gillian’s cool head and bravery in the face of certain terror—and possible death—blows him away. Any outcome that doesn’t include Gillian leaving that plane alive and well is not an option.
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After their safe return to Texas, both Trigger and Gillian are excited to find out if their instant chemistry can survive the real world. Neither realizing that someone isn’t happy with the outcome of the hijacking, and is watching, waiting, for a second chance to strike.
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** Shielding Gillian is the 1st book in the Delta Team Two Series. Each book is a stand-alone, with no cliffhanger endings.
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CHAPTER ONE
Gillian Romano closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. She was exhausted…but in a good way. The event that had taken months of her life to plan had gone off without a hitch. She’d been extremely nervous as it had been in Costa Rica, but because everything had gone smoothly, she knew she’d most likely have a lot more business coming her way.
The CEO of Pillar Custom Homes out of Austin, Troy Johnson, had contacted her a year ago to inquire about her organizing all aspects of an appreciation trip for the company’s prestigious clients.
She’d said yes, then immediately freaked out. As an event planner, Gillian was used to organizing weddings, birthday parties, and nonprofit galas in the Killeen and Austin area. Mr. Johnson had gotten her name from the president of a local animal shelter who’d hired her the year before to throw their annual fundraising dinner. The president had been using Pillar Custom Homes to build his house, and he’d passed her name along.
Mr. Johnson had invited a dozen of his most prestigious clients and their families, as well as some of the most influential names in Austin real estate. Gillian had been responsible for all aspects of the trip. From flight and transportation arrangements, to booking the private hotel suites and setting up entertainment for the four-day trip. It had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done—especially considering the fact that she was doing most of her planning remotely—but everything had turned out beautifully, if she did say so herself.
Smiling, Gillian let out a long sigh of contentment. She’d seen the last of the guests off the day before and had spent one day in the beautiful Costa Rican resort soaking in the feeling of a job well done and getting in some well-deserved R&R.
She was now heading home and couldn’t wait to tell her best friends—Ann, Wendy, and Clarissa—all about how beautiful Costa Rica was and how well the event had gone.
Gillian was in one of the front rows of the plane, right behind first class, as she’d splurged on getting a seat with a little more leg room. She was by the window, and the young couple sitting next to her had fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d taken off.
Her eyes popped open when she heard an odd sound up in the first-class section of the plane. Looking over the seat in front of her, she saw that almost all of the passengers in first class were standing. She wasn’t alarmed—until she heard one of the women let out a sound that made the hair on Gillian’s arms stand up. It was a keening mixture of disbelief and terror.
Before she could do more than furrow her brow, a man appeared in the front of the cabin. He was holding a rifle, and he pointed it up in the air and said something in Spanish, which made people all around Gillian shout out in horror and several began to cry.
Frozen in fear, Gillian couldn’t believe what she was hearing when the man switched to English and said, “On behalf of the Cartel of the Suns, my name is Luis Vilchez, and my friends and I have taken over the plane and will be landing in our homeland of Venezuela. Stay calm and don’t do anything stupid, and you might live to see another day.”
Gillian blinked. Her plane was being hijacked? How was this happening? She never in a million years would’ve thought after 9/11, when airlines had tightened security, that this would happen.
But then again, she wasn’t in the United States. Hadn’t she been surprised when she realized that she’d forgotten to put the small pocket knife Clarissa had given her for protection into her checked luggage, and she’d made it through the Costa Rican security with it in her purse?
But how did he get a rifle onboard? Was he a passenger? Looking closer, Gillian realized he was one of the flight attendants. Shit. Now that she thought about it, she figured he could probably have been able to smuggle the weapon onto the plane any number of ways…especially if he had help from someone who worked at the airport.
He nodded at someone in front of him, and when Gillian turned to look behind her, she saw there were three other men standing in the aisles with wicked-looking rifles as well.
Shit, shit, shit.
Swallowing hard, Gillian startled when there was another scream from the first-class area, and she whipped her head back around. The man who’d addressed the plane looked behind him then turned to face the passengers again. He pointed his rifle at a woman sitting in the first row. “You. Collect everyone’s passports. Now.”
The woman stood up and looked visibly shaken.
“Get your passports out now!” the hijacker said loudly. “You will give them to his woman.” When no one moved, he scowled and, without further hesitation, turned to the man sitting in the aisle seat in the bulkhead row and shot him in the head.
The man fell over, and there were more screams and moans of terror from her fellow passengers. Gillian knew she was in shock. She couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t do anything more than stare wide-eyed at what was happening right in front of her.
“I said, get your passports out…now!” the hijacker yelled in both Spanish and English.
The couple next to her leaned over and immediately began to rummage through their bags, and Gillian did the same. She held out the small blue book as the woman selected to collect them walked down the aisle. Her hand shook as she held it out, and for just a second, she caught the other woman’s gaze. She looked absolutely terrified.
In all the confusion and panic amongst the passengers, Gillian hadn’t thought much about what the hijacker said a few moments ago, but now she did. They were going to Venezuela. She wasn’t really up on current events, but even she knew the country was in serious turmoil at the moment. And the guy had said he w
as with a group, “cartel” something or other. That usually meant drugs.
Too scared to take her eyes off the hijacker, Gillian felt herself breathing too fast. This was really happening. The men who’d taken over the plane had already hurt people. Killed someone.
She felt the plane take a hard right turn, and ridiculously, she put out her hand to brace herself. It wasn’t as if she was going to fall out the window or something.
Somehow either the pilots were in on the plot to take over the plane, or the hijackers had gotten to them, and they really were turning around and heading back toward South America. She briefly thought about pulling out her cell phone and trying to see if it would work, but then had no idea who she would call. Nine-one-one? No, that wasn’t an option. Her friends? What would they be able to do? Besides, she had no idea if the phone would even work this high up.
“Women in the front, men in the back!” a new voice demanded from behind her.
Gillian turned to look and saw the other hijackers were separating the passengers. The woman next to her whimpered, and her husband whispered something to her…obviously trying to reassure her.
The man’s arm was wrenched upward by one of the hijackers as he was shoved toward the back of the plane. Gillian stood immediately and let herself be pushed forward. She stumbled into the first-class cabin—and froze at the carnage around her.
Almost all of the men and women had been killed. Apparently while the passports were being collected and in the genera chaos, their throats had been slit. She also saw three flight attendants lying motionless as well.
She had one second to be thankful the plane wasn’t full before her arm was grabbed in a bruising hold. Looking up in panic, Gillian stared into the stone-cold brown eyes of the hijacker who’d so calmly shot the man in the bulkhead row.