Safeguarding Miley

by Melissa Kay Clarke

  "Morning," Miley gave her a nod then dropped into a chair.

  "You're up early," Caroline smiled and placed her phone on the table. "Can I get you something to eat?"

  "I got called into work. Where's Summer? I saw the rest of them still passed out."

  Caroline grinned. "She's probably in the shower. The first night is the worse. It's the rip-the-bandage-off stage of coping. We get the massive drunk out of the way, then we can do retail therapy, spa days, things like that. I've found this whole thing works better when we lean on each other. I was talking to Livy about it a few days ago. The team girls have to stick together, form our own posse as it were. It doesn't make it better as much as it makes it easier to cope."

  "That makes sense. What are you doing up looking so put together?"

  "Work," she frowned. "We've been working on isolating a compound that could be a stepping-stone to a breakthrough in human regeneration. Preliminary tests are promising. Maybe in another ten or fifteen years, they'll be able to assist in regenerating severed limbs."

  Miley thought about Alcide's father and his amputated leg. Something like this could be a life changer for him. "That's awesome."

  "It's still a long way off, but our portion of the research is coming to a close. That's why I was more of a mother hen than a party girl last night. I knew this morning was going to come too fast."

  Livy walked into the kitchen and smiled. "Hey, guys."

  "Morning. How'd you sleep?" Caroline motioned toward the coffee pot.

  Livy shook her head. "Not too bad. Those blow-up beds are surprisingly comfortable."

  "Annabeth still out?"

  Livy's eyes sparkled. "Yep. While I was in the shower, she commandeered your bed, Miley. I expect they won't see her for a few hours. You ready?"

  "Yeah, let me get my shoes on." Miley thrust her feet into her favorite pair of sneakers. She started to tie them when she felt something give. Raising her foot, she groaned. The entire bottom sole flapped in the air.

  "Uh-oh. Bad day to have aerated shoes. It's coming down hard outside." Livy stood. "I'll go grab another pair for you."

  "All I have here are my sandals and a pair of flip-flops. We'll have to run by Alcide's to get another pair of sneakers. I can't wear open-toed shoes at the clinic." Miley let out a huff. "Of all the days..."

  "You look like the same size as me. Just borrow a pair of mine to get you through the day," Caroline smiled. "I have several pairs in my closet. Take your pick." She stood and grabbed her keys. "I hate to run, ladies, but science waits for none."

  They said their goodbyes then Miley went into her friend's bedroom. It felt a little strange to invade her private space, so she quickly grabbed the first pair of sneakers she found then retreated to the kitchen. Summer was sitting at the table with her head in her hands groaning softly. Livy chuckled.

  "Good morning, Summer."

  "Not from my point of view," she muttered.

  Livy placed a cup of coffee in front of her and winked at Miley. "You ready?"

  She quickly slid the shoes on and tied them. Caroline's feet were a little longer than Miley's, but the shoes fit well enough. "Yep, let's go."

  Loran Hoxha sat in his car, watching the door for a sign of Miley. He knew she was in the house, had been for the last few weeks, but she was too well guarded, and he didn't have enough muscle to get past the man who lived there.

  He'd bided his time, waiting for an opportunity for her to be alone, but it never came. First, she had been with that corn-fed redneck Montgomery until he had disappeared one day and she moved to this house. Yesterday, one of his men had informed him that the big brute who lived here had strolled out of the house with a large duffle bag, got into a car with several other men and disappeared to the local Navy base. Shortly after, several women had arrived including Miley, and they hadn't left.

  Rubbing his eyes, Loran felt the strain deep in his soul. His older brother was dead, and the money from their operation in Wyoming confiscated. Just to add insult to injury, the network of officials Tariq had in his pocket had been rounded up as well. Damn his brother for keeping such meticulous records! All of Tariq's manipulations, masking, money laundering and network of paid officials, hit men and assorted connections that he worked to put into place over the last decade were slowly being uncovered and shut down.

  Maybe Tariq suspected Loran's plans, but there were many things his older brother would never have known about. True, his pockets weren't as deep as his brother's had been, but that was only a matter of time. Already, he had lined up enough business to get him well on the way to becoming king of his own kingdom. He would begin with dumping in Utah until he had enough money to move into his new passion - breeding race horses. He had a plan in mind on training them in a way that he could ensure he could influence the outcome. All it would take would be a cocktail of specific drugs, specialized training, a few well lubricated palms, and a veterinarian with his best interests at heart to keep an eye on his empire.

  "And every king must have a queen," he muttered.

  As if called from his mind, the door to the house opened, and Miley stepped out. She opened an umbrella and rushed to a truck parked on the roadside. Another woman hurried behind her and climbed into the driver's seat. The truck started then pulled away.

  Finally.

  Loran followed them through the rain-drenched streets until the truck stopped at the animal clinic where Miley worked. Pulling into the partially hidden alley nearby, he turned off his car and waited. Now that she was not being guarded, he could put his plan into place.

  Loran's patience was paid off when he saw Miley walk out of the clinic several hours later, heading to the local diner she favored for lunch. She walked quickly, head down, umbrella almost sitting on her head. The rain played into his favor as the few people on the street were similarly hurrying, paying no attention to their surroundings. He grinned.

  It was just too easy.

  Chapter 23

  Cowboy was exhausted.

  All he wanted was to see Miley and his bed. No, he wanted a shower, then Miley -- in his bed. He closed his eyes as he laid his head back against the bulkhead. Normally, he would have slept on the ride back, but he was still too keyed up. Well, that and Toad slouching beside him snoring like a freight train.

  He must have finally drifted off because he was suddenly jostled awake by turbulence. Straightening in his seat he rolled his head, stretching the stiff muscles in his neck.

  "What time is it?" he shouted over the engines.

  "Almost six Cali time. We should be landing in the next half hour or so," Hick grunted. He pulled out his cell and stared at the screen showing his fiancée, Annabeth. "This was a long one. Damn, but I'm glad to be coming home."

  "You and me both," Cowboy replied.

  "You and Miley coming to the house for Thanksgiving? I was supposed to ask the crew before we left but with everything that happened, I didn't think it was that important."

  "I don't know, Hick. She may want to go home to Missouri and see her folks. I'll ask her."

  "What about the rest of you?" Hick asked.

  "I'll get back with you," Railroad answered. "I still have a lot to get finished."

  "You can take a break, but all right. How about you, Bruise?"

  "I'll check with Livy. You know Auntie Nat. Cooking is one of her big things."

  "Bring her and Jayden. The more, the merrier."

  "I'll see," Bruiser replied.

  "I'm free," Toad chipped in. "Always good for a meal and you still owe us."

  "Good. Finch?"

  The quietest member of the team lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I got things to do."

  Toad walked over and dropped to the seat beside him. "When are you going to come clean? You've been moping around for months now. Bruise won't say anything. What gives?"

  "Toad," Bruiser hissed with a shake of his head. "Let it go."

  "Hell no. He's a member of this team. We're brothers. You need to l
et us help you."

  "It's none of your damn business," Finch hissed as he lurched to his feet. "Leave it alone."

  "No."

  Toad jumped up, but Cowboy put a hand on his arm. "He'll tell us when he's ready."

  Toad growled but walked away, flopping onto a crate further in the bay.

  The co-pilot appeared in the doorway to the bay and motioned to Bruiser. Standing, the leader made his way over and bent his head in, bracing against the struts to hear what the man said. He nodded and followed him to the front.

  The tension in the space eased as Toad pulled out his cell and began playing a game. Finch sat with his back to the rest of the team, his shoulders hunched over stiffly. Cowboy closed his eyes again and leaned back, hoping to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye before they landed.

  He felt someone drop into the bench beside him. Cracking his eyelids, he saw Bruiser staring at him with trepidation on his face. "Cowboy," he began. "I got a call from Dixon on the comms."

  Cowboy sat up, dread turning his blood to ice. "My Dad?"

  Bruiser shook his head. "No. It's Miley. She's missing."

  By the time the wheels touched down, Cowboy's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. He'd tried to call both Miley and Wolf, but neither answered. He had, however, talked to Annabeth via Hick. All she knew was that Miley went for lunch and never returned. The women were all worried to death.

  Finally, the plane rolled to a stop. Before the door was completely open, he grabbed his bag and leaped to the ground. "Cowboy, wait up," Hick called out. Cowboy ignored him and hurried to his car in the parking lot. Wrenching the door open, he tossed his bag in and hopped in. Bruiser reached in and plucked his keys out of his hand.

  "Give them back," Cowboy snarled.

  "I'm not going to let you take off like this. The last thing she needs is you getting into a wreck because your head is in the wrong place."

  "What if it was Livy? Would you stand around twiddling your thumbs or would you get out there and look for her? Let me have my keys."

  Bruiser shook his head. "It was Livy at one time, remember? You and the team had my six then, and we have yours now. We're going to get her back but going off half-cocked isn't the answer. We need intel, not hot heads."

  Cowboy's hand slammed into the steering wheel as a strangled scream erupted from his throat. A part of him knew Bruiser was right, but it was tiny compared to the portion that demanded he go and do something.

  "Man, he's right," Hick said from behind Bruiser. "We're going to get her back. But we have to be smart about it. We can't play into this asshole's hands. We need to know what's going on and make an appropriate plan. However, I think we need to go to Wolf's. The women are scared and upset. Annabeth is beside herself."

  "That's another thing. Where is Wolf?"

  Bruiser let out a held breath. "His team was called yesterday. The bastard was smart to wait until she was unguarded to strike. The women have been keeping close, but she was at work."

  Running his hand through his hair, Cowboy nodded as some of the anger flowed out of his body. It wasn't going to do any good to rail at his team or the women. It wasn't their fault. It wasn't even Wolf's. "I shouldn't have left her," he muttered.

  "You had to go," Bruiser told him. "You're a SEAL. We go when we're told. You know this, and so does Miley. Scoot over. I'm driving." He turned to the others. "We'll meet at Wolf's. I know we've had a hell of a last few weeks, but this can't wait."

  "We're with you," Railroad affirmed.

  Cowboy reluctantly scooted to the passenger side as Bruiser dropped into the driver's seat. Within minutes, they were flying through the streets, on their way to Wolf's house.

  Halfway there, Bruiser's cell rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he shoved it at Cowboy. "Answer it."

  "Yeah."

  "Hey, Bruiser, it's Tex."

  "Give us some good news, man," Bruiser said.

  "I have good and bad news. First off, are you aware of Wolf's team's women's special clothing?"

  "What are you talking about?" Cowboy wondered what clothes had to do with his woman's disappearance.

  Tex let out a long drawn breath. "You do know about all the trouble with the ladies? Everything they had gone through?"

  "Yeah," Bruiser answered. "We shared a mission not too long ago, and they told us about it. What has that got to do with Miley?"

  "After the girls kept getting into trouble, I ordered some trackers for them which they voluntarily carry at all times. They have them in jewelry, clothing and even shoes. This afternoon, I noticed one of Caroline's trackers heading outside the city even though another was at her lab. I called to check on her, and she was fine, in the lab, so I thought it was a false positive and maybe needed replacing. It wasn't until she called me back a couple of hours ago frantic because Miley was missing that I put the two together. Miley borrowed a pair of Caroline's shoes. She just happened to grab a pair with a tracker in it."

  "Then you know where she is? Oh, thank God." Cowboy felt a little of the fear melt.

  "That's the bad news. I know about where she is but not exactly."

  "What do you mean?" Bruiser barked. "If she's wearing a personal tracker, you should know where she is within a few hundred yards."

  "The panic button she used before was a burst transmitter utilizing radio bands or RDF. It's designed for a specific location within a tightly defined area - a distress call. This one is a constant beacon using an identification signal that is piggybacked off a satellite feed. The range is greater. Thus we can see where she went when she left the metro area. The last location recorded was in the San Bernardino Mountains. Because of the high concentration of metals and varying elevations, the signal bounces around creating ghost images. I know approximately where she is, just not exactly which signal is her. I'm working on weeding out the false responses, but it's going to take a little time. That's a lot of rough terrains to sort through. "

  Bruiser growled. "At least we know where to start."

  "Hopefully, by the time you get in the area, I'll have it whittled down," Tex continued. "Meanwhile, Digger is doing his thing, combing through data and trying to find anything that can lead us to Hoxha while I'm working the technical side. Kid's got skills. He knows his way around the information highway. As soon as we know something, we'll let you know."

  "Thanks, Tex."

  "We'll get her back, Cowboy."

  "Damn right we will."

  The line went dead, and Cowboy dropped it on the seat between them. Neither said a word as Bruiser parked Cowboy's car on the curb in front of Wolf's house. Behind him, the rest of the team parked and they all exited. He'd never been so thankful for his team as he was at that moment. They were all exhausted but dropped everything to help him and Miley. This was what brotherhood was about.

  Railroad clapped a hand on his shoulder. "All right. Let's get this show started."

  "Yeah, let's get Miley back," Toad agreed.

  "We've got this," Hick said with a nod.

  "She's as good as home," Finch added resolutely.

  Cowboy let out a held breath, releasing the weight of guilt and anger he had been shouldering since learning of Miley's abduction. He glanced around at the faces of his team, brothers that were closer to him than any blood connection. If anyone could do it, it was this band of men. They were tired from lack of sleep, homesick from being gone for weeks and mentally drained, but ready to step in no matter what was needed. He nodded to them, letting them know how grateful he was.

  "Let's do this," he murmured as he turned toward the house where Annabeth, Olivia and the other women stood waiting in the doorway. As he watched Bruiser and Hick greet their women, he gave them a tight smile.

  "Never again," he muttered.

  Come hell or high water, he wasn't leaving her side again until he was sure the Hoxha problem was done.

  One way or another.

  Chapter 24

  Miley paced her tiny prison. At least this was a regul
ar room and not another dirt floor shed. The floor was covered in a thick, shag carpet in bright purple straight out of 1975. It matched the faded striped wallpaper and threadbare chair by the window. The bed was worn but serviceable with clean sheets and a green and gold spread. The clash of colors made her head hurt, but that was the least of her problems. Stopping in front of the window, she wrapped her fingers around the thick bars mounted on the inside casement and tugged. Not even bracing her foot against the wall and pulling with all her might had helped. Miley was stuck.

  She couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to fall for the old "help me I'm lost" trick. When the man had approached her on her walk back to the clinic, she hadn't thought anything about trying to help him find a street on his paper map. With her attention on the map, she didn't see Loran come up behind her. Looking back now, she wanted to kick herself. In a world of smart electronic devices, nobody used paper any longer. That should have been her warning.

  "Idiot," she muttered as she made another round in the room. Thrusting her fingers into her hair, she berated herself again for the stupidity. Alcide was going to give her hell over this when he came for her. That he was coming she was certain; it was only a question of when.

  When he got home.

  When he realized she was missing.

  When he figured out where Loran had taken her.

  When he would rescue her.

  Several months ago, she would have been mad at herself for not only accepting but desiring a man's help. However, Alcide wasn't just any man - he was hers, and that made a difference. He didn't think of her as weak, and he would never hurt her. She had come to realize, a hand up is not the same as a handout, and she would gladly tell him the lesson she learned. She was even looking forward to revealing her insights to him - face to face.

  Plus, a tiny part of her wanted to see him hand Loran his lunch.

  Her incessant pacing stopped as the door opened. Loran strolled through followed by his two goons. Miley neither knew their names nor cared to. "Let me go," she growled. "You can't keep me here."