Saved by a SEAL (Hot SEALs Book 2)

by Cat Johnson

  “Bye, Missy.” He disconnected the call without another word as Missy sat with the phone in her hand, still reeling.

  ~ * ~

  Zane put his cell down on Jon’s kitchen table and glanced up at his friend. “Sorry about that. Okay, so back to options for possible financing.”

  Jon raised a brow. “Wait a minute. Give me a second to recover first.”

  “Recover from what?”

  “That phone call. Damn, that was harsh. I’ve never been witness to this end of one of your relationships before.”

  Zane frowned, particularly annoyed at Jon’s emphasis of the word relationship. His friend should know by now that Zane didn’t do relationships. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been around to watch you sweet talk women right into your bed, but I’ve never been there for the big dramatic finish at the end. You know, the dumping afterward.”

  “I wasn’t dumping her. There was no relationship to end.”

  “She know that?” Jon sent him a doubt filled look.

  “Of course, she did.” Zane answered Jon, but in reality, he wasn’t so sure.

  He’d never promised Missy anything, but women with far less of a personal connection to him than Missy, had in past assumed that one night together meant they were on the road to happily ever after.

  Zane had made the assumption that he and Missy were on the same page, but he’d never spelled it out for her. Between her initiating their kiss in the car, and then her undressing him at her boss’s house, there really hadn’t been a good opportunity to discuss expectations or the future.

  In his experience, those kind of discussions tended to be a mood killer. Bastard that he was, Zane usually didn’t want to risk ruining what could be a hot night. It seemed easier to just clear things up the next day, if necessary.

  That had always worked for him before, but none of those women had been a childhood friend. He sighed. Yes, he was a dickhead. Maybe Missy would realize that and be happy she’d dodged a bullet. She’d only be bound for heartbreak by trying to build something lasting with him.

  Zane was incapable of being one half of a happy couple. With no experience, and no interest in getting any, what hope did he have of making a long-term relationship work?

  None.

  He glanced up at Jon. “Do you want to talk about my track record with women or about finding the money to get GAPS off the ground?”

  “Can’t we do both?” Jon’s grin made Zane want to knock the cocky expression right off his face.

  “Joke all you want, but we’re both running out of time, you know. We’ve got to either turn in our separation papers or reenlist, and soon.”

  Getting out of the military without a firm plan of what to do next didn’t sit well with Zane, but neither did re-upping, which would push their plans for GAPS out for years while they waited out the new contract.

  The whole situation was starting to give Zane a headache. “Fuck.”

  “Was that in reference to the company or the girl?”

  Zane let out a frustrated breath at Jon’s question. Truth be told, it was a little of both, but to fix the mess he’d created for the company, he’d have to forget about Missy. He pushed the guilt and memories away, put Missy out of his head, and grabbed the pad of paper and pen on the table.

  “There’s only one thing that’s important. Funding GAPS. Is it after ten yet? I’m calling the firm that handles my trust fund. We need some expert advice on financing.”

  “Trust fund?” Jon’s eyes popped wider.

  “Don’t look so excited. The principal is locked down tight. I can only draw on the interest, but I’m hoping by some miracle there’s a loophole about borrowing against it.”

  Jon drew in a breath. “Dude, I really owe you for all you’re doing.”

  “Shut up. We’re equal partners. I’m doing it for me.” Besides, Zane hadn’t done anything yet except fuck up his father’s investment and break an innocent girl’s heart.

  He reached for his phone to call his lawyer. Maybe he’d be able to fix one out of two problems he’d caused.

  CHAPTER 14

  Missy drew in a swallow from the bottle of water. It had already been a long day and she wasn’t done yet. It felt good to be able to take a break for the basic necessities, such as cold water and a trip to the bathroom.

  “Thank you so much for helping me monitor the exam today.” Diana, a volunteer from Great Britain, sat opposite Missy in the teachers’ break room.

  Missy waved her coworker’s thanks away with the flick of one hand. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “No, it certainly is not. You came here to teach English, not proctor a physics exam for your desperate friend.” Diana was about Missy’s age and they had indeed formed a friendship over the past weeks.

  Missy laughed. “As long as you don’t need me to teach physics, we’re good.” Besides, it wasn’t as if she was otherwise occupied. Certainly not with contacting Zane.

  Nearly a month after the fact, that sore spot now caused more of a dull ache than the sharp pain it had immediately after that night . . . and that phone call.

  “I was surprised so many girls missed the exam, though.” Missy focused herself back on work, which was what she’d been doing since she’d arrived at the school in North Eastern Nigeria.

  “Sadly, I’m not.”

  Missy frowned. “You’re not?”

  “No. There’s a lot of unrest in this region. There has been for years, but recently it seems to be escalating. It’s not surprising more and more parents are opting to pull their daughters out of school.”

  “Escalating how?”

  “Abubakar Skekau, the leader of the Boko Haram, put a video on the internet a couple of days ago saying girls should not be in school. That they should be married instead . . . at age nine.”

  Missy couldn’t believe her ears. “Nine? That’s crazy.”

  “Believe me, I agree. Unfortunately, he has a legion of followers in the organization who believe he takes his orders directly from Allah, and they are willing to do whatever Shekau says, including killing and kidnapping. Fear of the Boko Haram is enough to frighten many people.”

  “What exactly is this Boko Haram?”

  “They’re an Islamic organization against the Westernization of the country.”

  “They sound like nut jobs to me.”

  “Well, they’re jihadist nut jobs—as you say—who have the backing of Al Qaeda.”

  Though she hadn’t heard of this Boko Haram before today, Missy had most definitely heard of Al Qaeda. No wonder Zane had acted so concerned about her coming to Nigeria. At least, he’d pretended he was concerned on the date he’d been required to go on with her in exchange for his father’s deal.

  That memory brought with it a good dose of anger, which helped with the hurt. Knowing the history and the issues between Zane and his father, and that he’d backed out of the deal rather than lie to her, she would have had no problem forgiving him had things worked out with them. But now, after he’d had sex with her and then given her the big heave ho on the phone, that initial deception seemed like just one more mark against Zane.

  Missy had made the decision that day in her bedroom to put the mess with Zane behind her. Lesson learned, albeit one that took her a bit too long to grasp. The cutest boy at the country club did not grow up to be the best match for the starry-eyed young girl who followed him around like a puppy. She’d finally learned that lesson and learned it well. Zane was one scar she’d carry forever. Missy only hoped it would continue to fade with time.

  As far as her decision to come to Nigeria, the reality was there were small groups of violent radical factions in every country, including the United States. Missy had volunteered to teach at a government secondary school located in a Christian village. It seemed unlikely the school or the village would even be on the radar of some Islamic terrorist organization. Besides, she’d been there almost a month and nothing more exciting th
an the ever changing weather had happened during that time.

  Coming from winter in Virginia to Nigeria, where temperatures topped ninety degrees with eighty percent humidity and lots of thunderstorms, had been pretty eventful. Then there had also been Missy’s first attempt at learning how to tend the beehives the school maintained. But even that had ended uneventfully, with not even a bee sting.

  Diana glanced at her watch. “Ready to go back?”

  “Yes.” Not really. Proctoring an exam had to be one of the most boring jobs on earth, but it was time to get back to work.

  The afternoon was rapidly ticking away and the students had yet to take the second half of the test. The one consolation was that Missy was sure the girls, all in their final year of schooling, were less anxious to get back to the testing room than she was.

  Boredom. That was the main danger in Chibok, that and insanely frizzy hair from the humidity. Otherwise, Missy expected that would be all she had to worry about for the remainder of her stay.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was already dark when Zane pulled into a spot and parked. Though to be fair it wasn’t that late. It was just February, when the sun still set too damned early for his liking. But the days were lengthening with every passing square on the calendar.

  All that did was remind him the time for him to either reenlist or get out was growing near, and they still had no financing for GAPS.

  He was coming to the realization that their dream would remain just that. An unfulfilled dream.

  Even if Zane did go back and groveled to his father, it wouldn’t do any good. Not if the old man stuck to his original conditions for the loan. Zane wasn’t going to take advantage of Missy like that, and wouldn’t be able to anyway, even if he were willing to. After that phone call, which Jon had pointed out had been harsh, she probably hated him.

  How he’d handled that situation was one of Zane’s biggest regrets. If he could turn back time . . . What would he do if he could do it all over again?

  Negotiate a different deal with his father to begin with. And as for Missy, he would have never hurt her. He definitely would not have had sex with her, for both of their sakes.

  The memory of that night still haunted him. He’d relived it more times than he could count. Even after all these weeks he could still remember every detail vividly. Memories kept him up nights while he was alone in his bed . . . and he had been alone. Zane didn’t feel like going out and hooking up with a stranger or even one of his usual back-up girls.

  It must be the winter blues. It was the only explanation.

  That the team had seen no real action since the hijacking back in January wasn’t helping. The good news was, by all indications that was about to change.

  Zane walked into the meeting room to see Jon, Thom and Brody already there. He nodded a greeting to them and sat. “Anyone know what’s up?”

  “No clue.” Jon shook his head.

  Brody let out a snort. “Hell, I don’t care what it is. Any action is better than no action at all, I always say.”

  Grant, the senior member of the team, entered the meeting room and stood at the head of the table. Zane hoped he had something good for them. Opening a folder he’d dropped onto the table, Grant glanced at the papers inside, and then up at them. “We have a TIP situation.”

  TIP. Trafficking in Persons. Of all the many horrors that Zane had witnessed in his time with the teams, human trafficking was one that turned his stomach most. Forcing innocents, usually children, into a life of labor, or the sex trade, or child soldiering, were sins that he hoped had many traffickers burning in hell.

  Grant continued, “Twenty four students, all females aged sixteen-to-eighteen, and two teachers, one American and one British, both also females, were taken three days ago from a government secondary school in Chibok in Borno State, Nigeria. Boko Haram has claimed responsibility.”

  If Grant was still talking, Zane didn’t hear. He was too occupied reviewing the details. Students and teachers were being taken right out of schools in Nigeria. He knew he should have convinced Missy to not go. He’d told her it was dangerous but he hadn’t stressed just how dangerous it could get.

  Boko Haram was full of sick motherfuckers who thought nothing of killing women and children, as well as men and boys. They’d killed hundreds of students in just the past few years, as well as prevented thousands more from attending school through threats alone, and the Nigerian government seemed completely ineffective in stopping them.

  Attacks were the worst in North Eastern Nigeria where Boko Haram had fortified camps in the refuge provided by the Sambisa Forest.

  Shit, what region was Missy teaching in? Zane didn’t know. He hadn’t asked. He should have.

  “The girls and teachers were reportedly loaded into trucks by the militants. Observation by locals in the region puts the possible location where the kidnapped girls are being held in the Konduga area of the forest, but I doubt they’ll be there long. The girls will likely be sold.”

  Sold off to be wives or sex slaves. All for the bride price of just over ten bucks.

  “Now here’s the bad news.” Grant paused and looked from man to man.

  Zane’s brows rose. If what he’d just heard was the good news, he was afraid to hear what Grant had to say next.

  “One of the teachers is the daughter of Senator Greenwood.” The roaring in Zane’s ears was so loud he could barely hear Grant’s words as he continued. “The assumption is that Boko Haram doesn’t know who they have or they would have already made demands in exchange for her. Time is of the essence. It’s crucial we get to this woman before they figure out who she is.”

  Zane felt Jon’s hand on his back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Meanwhile, Zane was far from okay.

  Even if Boko Haram didn’t realize who Missy was, the dangers, the horrendous possibilities, were still unimaginable. She was a blond-haired, blue-eyed, attractive twenty-five year old woman in the hands of human traffickers. She’d be considered a valuable commodity in the sex trade in too many parts of the world for him to even fathom, even without the added value of who her father was.

  “The family has kept the abduction quiet. Only essential personnel know. But if it leaks . . .” Grant didn’t have to finish the sentence. They all knew what would happen if the news got out. The demands would come, under the threat of her life.

  Would the President go against policy and negotiate with terrorists, given who Missy was? This president had already done so once for the American soldier held hostage by the Taliban. Zane could only hope Missy would be as lucky.

  “What’s the plan?” Thom asked.

  He was grateful to Thom for speaking up, since Zane wasn’t sure he had the air in his lungs to ask the question.

  “We’re to prepare and hold.”

  “Hold?” Zane asked, a bit more loudly than was appropriate.

  “Yup.” Grant nodded.

  “Hold where?”

  “Here.”

  “Here?” Zane couldn’t control the shock in his tone. “Why not there?”

  Grant leveled his gaze on Zane. “Those are the orders.”

  “Why? You just said time is critical.” Zane couldn’t believe what he was hearing, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

  The military had a long history of taking the hurry up and wait approach when it came to action. He should be used to it by now, but putting Missy’s life in greater danger by having them cooling their heels in the States rather than on location bordered on insanity.

  “Apparently there’s a British journalist trying to broker a deal. A trade. The girls and teachers in exchange for Boko Haram prisoners being held. The president wants to avoid boots on the ground if possible.”

  Zane fought to control his rising blood pressure.

  “In the meantime, prepare your kits and stay close.” Grant flipped closed the folder and picked it up.

  The meeting was over yet the only action Zane could take was to pack. Sure, th
e items he packed would consist of breeching charges and state of the art weapons, but it still wasn’t enough to soothe his restless need to move.

  “Well, guess I’ll get to it.” Brody stood.

  “Yup.” Thom followed suit.

  After Thom and Brody had both walked out of the door, Jon stood. When Zane stayed seated, Jon asked, “What’s up with you?”

  “It’s Missy.”

  Jon frowned, so Zane elaborated. “Missy Greenwood. Senator Greenwood’s daughter. The kidnapped teacher is the woman—”

  “You grew up with. The one your father wanted you to date in exchange for the money.” Jon finished Zane’s sentence as his eyes widened with realization.

  Zane continued, “And the woman you heard me dumping on the phone the morning after I slept with her.” Only they hadn’t actually slept. He hadn’t even given her the courtesy of spending the whole night with her after they’d had sex.

  “Jesus, Zane. I’m sorry, man.”

  Zane shook his head. “Dammit. I knew I should have tried to talk her out of going. Nigeria? A girl like her doesn’t belong in a place like that. Fuck!”

  Hindsight was twenty-twenty. Having such clarity after the fact felt excruciatingly painful.

  “Come on.” Jon tipped his head toward the door. “The only thing we can do right now is be ready to go when the order comes.”

  “I know.” Zane clenched his jaw.

  This was exactly why they’d dreamed up GAPS. So they could make their own decisions. Use their skills to take action, without waiting for the politicians to finish their tap dancing.

  If he’d done what his father had asked, if he’d built a relationship with Missy and had gotten the million dollars, they’d be able to go get her now. He could have turned in his separation papers already. He had enough time stored up, he could have put in for terminal leave for the last two months of his contract.

  Rick and Chris were already ready to go, he and Jon could have worked it out somehow. They could all be on a plane to Nigeria right now, on the way to get Missy back. Zane and the team could walk into that forest encampment armed to the teeth and shoot until not one damn member of Boko Haram was left standing.