Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  “Sometimes I wonder. Sabine can be quite a handful at times.”

  The best kind of woman. “You were pretty vague on the phone.” Enough small talk. “Why am I taking a vacation to Anguilla?”

  “The missing woman is Colonel Roth’s daughter. Colonel Roth is my boss. And that’s classified.”

  Travis had to take a second to dissect Cullen’s declaration, a loaded one at that. Everyone who worked for TES knew Cullen had high-ranking government officials backing his organization. Cullen never spoke of them. He never spoke of the man he frequently met, and he kept those meetings—and the identity of the man—a closely guarded secret. One Travis had discovered long ago and kept to himself. Now the very colonel who made TES possible had tasked Cullen to rescue his daughter.

  He glanced around at the chilly mountain landscape, finding Cullen’s version of a secure place to disclose classified information amusing.

  Nothing like a little pressure. What if the woman were already dead? “What’s her name?”

  Cullen handed him a sealed folder. “Everything you need is in here.”

  Travis took it from him.

  “I don’t think I have to tell you how important this assignment is.”

  Fantastic. “I’ll find her.” Dead or alive, he’d find her.

  “I know I can count on you. I’d have removed you from another assignment to send you. You’re the only one I want down there.”

  “I’m flattered, especially after what happened with Haley.” Haley Engen was another operative that Cullen had frequently partnered him with because he knew Travis would keep her safe. She had enough trauma in her past, and Cullen hadn’t wanted any more harm to come to her. Travis had a background full of rescue experience, except things with Haley hadn’t gone all that well.

  “You would have been shot on that mission with or without Haley.”

  When he and Haley had been followed and the tires of their Jeep were shot out, he’d spun the vehicle so that the driver’s side would take the bullets. Had he been alone, he wouldn’t have done that. He would have been able to take out the attackers. He’d done his job. He’d protected Haley. And he’d do it again if he had to. But there was a big difference between rescuing a package and having her for a partner. He’d thought of Haley as a package. That had been his mistake. It’s what had distracted him enough to miss being followed until it was too late.

  “You’ve done more extractions than anyone else, and you have a zero failure rate,” Cullen went on. “You’re the best man for the job.”

  Travis wondered if that was more of a handicap than an attribute. There was a reason he’d gotten this good. One he didn’t talk about.

  “You sure you’re back to full health?” Cullen asked.

  “I’ve told you more than once that I am. I’ve been ready to get back into it for months now.”

  “You needed refresher training.”

  Cullen had insisted he train like a new operative. He had run him through a program that had him stronger than he was before he was shot. But that was Cullen. He cared more about the welfare of his men than he did about the importance of an assignment.

  “If she’s alive, I’ll bring her back,” Travis said, and he watched as Cullen read his meaning.

  “I’d sure hate to have to tell Colonel Roth that his daughter is dead.”

  He didn’t doubt that. “Like I said. If she’s alive...”

  Cullen smiled wryly and looked toward a waiting plane on the airstrip. “That’ll get you where you need to be by late afternoon or dinnertime. You have a car and hotel reservations for the next three nights. Odie set it all up.”

  “Of course she did.” Odelia Frank was TES’s number-one intel officer. She’d finally broken down and married Jag Benney, an ex-Delta man like Cullen and the type of man she’d vowed to never end up with again after the death of her first husband, who’d also been an operative. If TES wasn’t such a secret organization, a soap opera could be written about its personnel. Travis wanted no part of that script.

  Just when he was going to ask about gear, Cullen said, “Everything you need is on board. And you’ve got clearance when you get there, so take whatever you think will be necessary.”

  That would save him a lot of time. “Tell Odie thanks for me.”

  “You don’t have to thank her. She knows who Roth is, remember?”

  Right. And now he did. Nothing like a little pressure. Giving Cullen a salute, he turned and headed for the plane and saw a stewardess waiting at the top of the stairs. One thing Odie was good at was making his job as easy as possible. Logistics rarely got in the way.

  “Contact me as soon as you know something,” Cullen called after him.

  “Will do,” he answered over his shoulder.

  “Oh, and just so you know, there’s a hurricane on its way to Anguilla.”

  Incredulous, Travis stopped at the bottom of the stairs and faced Cullen.

  “Helga,” Cullen said with an cynical grin. “You might not make it out before she hits. Odie said the airport will probably close before the night is over.”

  Fantastic. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Should only be a Category 3, maybe 4.”

  “Is that all?”

  Cullen held up his hand and turned for his vehicle.

  Climbing the stairs, Travis nodded to the woman there. She went about closing the door and he took a seat.

  He pulled out a folder from the envelope Cullen had given him. The first thing he saw was a picture of a stunning woman. After choking on a sip of water and noticing the stewardess look back at him, he looked again at the photo.

  She was standing on a deck at the top of three shallow steps leading to the lush landscape of a yard, her hand curled around a post. Blooming clematis tangled over a lattice rail. Thick blond hair fell wispy around her face to her shoulders, and sparkling blue eyes smiled at whoever had taken the shot. She had a wide, toothy smile that showcased her beauty. Tall and leggy, she wore a black sundress that came to the top of her drool-worthy thighs, and the dress had a scooped neckline where subtle cleavage teased.

  He placed the photo facedown on the open folder and read the report on the next page. Host for the hit show Pop’s Place, she featured family restaurants passed down from generation to generation. She had a public job, which struck him as odd given her supersecret father’s ties to TES. He imagined that must be an issue from time to time.

  She lived in New York City. Not married. No kids. Traveled to Anguilla a lot, this time to shoot an episode. She had a cottage on the island, so she hadn’t stayed at the same hotel as her crew. She was having an affair with a restaurateur. Dietrich Artz, or “Deet” as she called him, owner of Artz Eatery. Landon, her cameraman, said she’d called early this morning to let him know she was going to have breakfast with Deet at his restaurant before meeting him at the airport. Now she wasn’t answering her phone.

  Odie had included a quick and brief background report on Deet, complete with photos of him and his wife and brother-in-law. Married...

  He wondered if Raeleen knew that.

  Her name was Vivian. She had parents and a brother on the island. Deet’s parents were deceased. He and Vivian had no kids. Deet had taken over the restaurant when his father developed cancer. His mother had died of breast cancer a few years earlier. Artz Eatery had been in business for twenty years.

  No motive from what he could see, yet. Odie’s handwritten note said she was still gathering financial information. If there was a motive, they’d probably find it there. The last of the details in the report included Raeleen’s address and home phone, cell and passport numbers.

  He turned over the photo of Raeleen and stared at the picture again. Figures, his first assignment after recovering would involve a successful, beautiful woman. The irony kille
d him. The last woman to captivate him like that was his partner on his previous assignment. This one was none other than Colonel Roth’s daughter. She probably didn’t have a vulnerable bone in her amazing body. He’d go in, get her and bring her home. Mission accomplished. Nothing would deter him from that.

  * * *

  Travis drove his rental past Artz Eatery. The small parking lot was empty except for one car. Turning into an alley that ran alongside the building, he parked near a loading dock in the back. There were two more cars back here.

  Reaching over to his duffel bag on the passenger seat, he lifted out his Mark 23 and tucked it behind him in the waist of his jeans. Getting out of the car, he made sure his short-sleeved dark blue shirt hung over the weapon. He noticed the lack of activity in the area and remembered Hurricane Helga was on the way. Looking up at the sky, he saw that the clouds were growing much heavier. A strong breeze lifted his dark blond hair. He didn’t have much time before the storm reached land.

  Going to the back door, Travis tested the knob and found it unlocked. Opening the door, he listened and heard nothing. All clear. He entered the kitchen.

  Two rows of stainless-steel counters filled the cramped space. Pots and pans hung above ovens and ranges along the adjacent wall. Only a few lights were on. He moved to the entrance of the dining area, cracking open one of the double swinging doors. The room was quiet and still. With the overcast sky and sparse lighting, it was dim.

  The doors swung closed as he walked forward. Old stools lined a bar to the left. Bottles packed glass shelving, and beer taps jutted out in the center of the bar. Four bistro tables with fake pink flowers were partially hidden by a half wall.

  In the dining room, chairs were placed up on the tables...all but one. There, two chairs were on the floor, tipped on their sides. And among them, two feet. A woman. He hurried over, fearing he’d discover the colonel’s daughter. But as he got closer, it was clear that this woman wasn’t Raeleen. He knelt beside her. Seeing her face now, he recognized her as Deet’s wife from the report Odie had put together. While questions began firing away in his head, he felt for a pulse.

  Nothing. But her skin was still warm.

  Whoever had killed her could still be here. Travis stood, scanning the empty restaurant.

  Hearing a sound in the kitchen, he quietly pulled the slide back on his pistol, ready to fire now. He went to the double swinging doors and pushed one open. Seeing nothing, he entered, moving in a circle with his pistol aimed.

  A man sprang up from behind the far row of stainless-steel counters and Travis ran after him. The man reached the back door. Travis pushed it shut and punched the man’s kidney. He yelped and slid in pain to the floor, leaning against the door.

  Travis straddled him and aimed the pistol at his head.

  “Don’t shoot!” the man pleaded, holding up one hand as if to ward off a bullet.

  That’s when Travis recognized him from the file on Raeleen.

  “You’re John Rey, Vivian’s brother.”

  The man stared up at him with intensifying fear. “Who are you?”

  Crouching, Travis patted the man’s pants, checking for a weapon. Finding none, he let John push himself up to stand against the door. But he wasn’t ready to let him try to sneak outside.

  “Give me your car keys, and go stand over there.” Travis gestured toward the counters.

  John dug into his front pocket, where Travis had felt the keys, and handed them over. He moved to the nearest counter.

  “What do you want?” John asked. “Are you the one who killed my sister?”

  So, he’d only just arrived like him. He must have hidden in the kitchen.

  “I’m looking for Raeleen Randall. Do you know where she is?”

  With the mention of Raeleen, John’s eyes popped wide with a fresh wave of fear.

  Travis stepped closer, intending to intimidate the man. It wasn’t hard. John whimpered and cringed away, easily overpowered. Too easily. This was no professional. Had Vivian’s killer kidnapped Raeleen? Surely it couldn’t have been this man. And yet, he clearly knew something.

  “Where is she?” Travis demanded.

  “I’m not the one you want.” John’s voice quivered.

  “Where is she?” he repeated.

  “D-did her father send you? S-she told me about her father. Look, we can make a deal.”

  Travis went still. “If she told you about her father, I might have to kill you.” He wouldn’t, but the scare tactic seemed to be working.

  “No! Please.” John had trouble catching his breath. “I—I thought she was lying.” He leaned backward as though trying to get away, putting his hands on the edge of the counter. “Please...I—I had no choice.”

  No choice in what? Kidnapping Raeleen? Then who had killed Vivian? And why? “Where is she? I won’t ask you again.” Travis put the gun against John’s forehead.

  “Please, mister. They killed my sister….” He began to sob. “My sister...” He turned his head, trying to escape the gun.

  “Who?”

  The man only sobbed wretchedly.

  “Who killed your sister, and where is Raeleen?” He was done messing around. He needed answers. Now.

  “I—”

  Just as the man began to compose himself and Travis was sure he’d become a fountain of information, a sound he knew too well interrupted. Silenced gunfire. John slumped against him. Travis took his weight, dropping the keys and dragging John quickly behind the protection of the industrial kitchen counter. He lowered John down to the floor just as another bullet pinged.

  John was having trouble breathing, this time not from fear. He reached for Travis, his eyes large with disbelief and horror.

  “Hang on,” Travis told him. “Just hang on.”

  Remaining crouched, he moved past John to the edge of the counter and peered around the corner of the metal cabinet, gun ready. The double doors swung shut and he heard chairs toppling. He emerged from cover, jogging to the kitchen entry. There, he pushed one of the doors open to check the dining area.

  The front door swung open and a shadowy figure slipped outside. Travis followed, peering out into the darkening night. Whoever had shot the dead woman’s brother jumped into a car that was already screeching away from where it had been parked in the street. Two. Three. Four men.

  Travis stepped outside and aimed for the rear right tire. Return fire ruined his aim, forcing him to duck behind a huge planter outside the front entry. The car vanished down the street. Cursing, Travis checked for witnesses before going back into the restaurant. Not seeing any, he locked the front door behind him and hurried into the kitchen.

  Behind the counter, he knelt beside John Rey. His eyes were open and blood ran down one side of his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Blood pooled underneath and around him. Too much blood.

  Travis cursed and reached for his cell phone to ask Odie to call the local police. He couldn’t do it himself. He didn’t have time to answer their questions. He had to find Raeleen.

  John lifted his hand weakly and stopped him. He muttered something unintelligible.

  Travis leaned closer. “One more time, buddy.”

  He gurgled something that sounded like “Nighthawk.”

  “What was that?” Nighthawk? What did it mean?

  John’s eyes rolled and a final breath left him. Silence filled the kitchen.

  Travis felt for a pulse. There was none. He’d seen death enough times to know when it was useless to try to revive someone. Regretfully, he closed the man’s eyes. Whatever John Rey had gotten himself into, he wasn’t the bad guy. Neither was his sister. Was Deet? Travis hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the men inside the car that had sped away. John had kidnapped his brother-in-law’s lover for a reason. Raeleen was leverage for something. Why or how, Travis
couldn’t begin to guess.

  Looking away from John’s dead face, his gaze landed on the car keys, where he’d dropped them on the floor. A charm hung from the ring. A lighthouse.

  Lighthouse, not Nighthawk. John had tried to tell him something.

  Chapter 2

  The sound of heavy boot steps made Raeleen stop pacing the small confines of the lighthouse service room. Who could it be? Was it that man again? She didn’t think so. He was small and wouldn’t make that much noise. She probably wouldn’t have even heard him over the wind. She searched for any type of weapon. There was nothing more than a few essentials—dry food, bottled water, a portable toilet. Her kidnapper had obviously planned to leave her here through the hurricane.

  She’d tried to kick the door down and yelled for help, but to no avail. The horrible sounds outside strung her nerves into a tight live wire. Black clouds had disappeared with the setting sun, and the storm had gathered intensity. With each beam of rotating light from the lantern room above, she got a glimpse of the angry sea. Talk about unsettling.

  The boot steps stopped on the other side of the door. Her heart thumped madly. She went to the portable toilet, removed the empty plastic bag and folded the frame.

  Seconds later, the door was kicked in. Raeleen jumped and backed up until the wall stopped her, lifting the toilet frame above her head, ready to strike.

  The biggest man she’d ever seen entered, pistol drawn. From gigantic black boots, up the trunks of his thighs, to a thick, muscular torso and hulking arms, he was a spectacle. Tall and imposing. His dark blond hair was windblown, and his blue eyes met hers with unflinching alertness, a gold hint in them intriguing her.

  “I’m here to bring you home,” he announced. “My name is Travis Todd. Your father sent me.”