Mountain of Evil_Trident Security Omega Team_Prequel

by Samantha A. Cole

  The same statement had worked last night with Darrell and Jessup, and thankfully, it worked again this morning. The father continued to dig through her things. “Billy Ray, take her behind that rock over there.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  As the other men ate and gathered up their belongings, Billy Ray untied the rope at her waist and led her to where his father had indicated. A blush stole over his cheeks. “I won’t watch, but don’t try to get away. Pa will be mad.” True to his word, he turned his back to her, but still stood only a few feet away.

  She felt a little relief since his brothers hadn’t given her the same courtesy yesterday. She’d used her coat to cover herself as best she could then. Undoing her snap and zipper with her restrained hands, she used the large rock for support as she pushed her jeans lower. Once she squatted, it took her a few moments to finally relax enough to urinate. Within minutes she was decent once more.

  When he heard her moving around, Billy Ray asked if it was okay if he turned around. Despite being held hostage by him and his family, Mallory found his question endearing. “Yes. Thank you.”

  She gave him a small smile when he faced her and his cheeks turned pink again. Yes, he was the weakest link, and if she was going to make it out of this alive, he was the one she’d have to win over. With the others, she didn’t have a chance.

  Billy Ray escorted her back to the makeshift camp. The contents of her backpack were spread out on the ground. While her car keys were there, she’d left her wallet in the glove compartment of her Toyota, so the men still thought her name was Susan. The SIM card had been removed from her camera and broken in half, and her satellite phone had been impaled by her hunting knife. Her bear spray had been taken from her yesterday and was currently hanging from a belt loop of Darrell’s camo pants. The older man pocketed her compass then began to put everything else back in her bag.

  Mallory wondered if he’d give her water and food. There was only one way to find out. “Can I have one of the waters and the granola bars? If we’re going to be walking again, I need them for energy, otherwise I’ll slow you down.” She didn’t give a crap about that, but she would need to keep her strength up to escape when a chance arose.

  A faint thumping resounded overhead again, getting louder every second. The helicopter zoomed past them and Mallory’s heart sank. If they were searching for her, they wouldn’t have been going that fast. But it was enough to worry her captors.

  The father stood and shoved one of the waters and a granola bar in her hands. “Eat it on the way. Let’s move out.”

  “Shit,” Jessup muttered while glaring at Mallory. A chill went down her spine. “You better be a good fuck and worth the wait, bitch.”

  Oh God. Now she knew what her fate would be if she didn’t escape. Opening the granola bar, she quickly ate it, even though her taste buds thought it was sawdust. Guzzling half the water, she hydrated her body to prepare it for the run of her life, because if it failed, she would suffer until these men finally killed her.

  *****

  Leaning against a tree, Lindsey Abbott chewed the apple cinnamon bar she was having for desert after an MRE lunch. She’d gotten used to the ready-to-eat meals during her time in the Marines, but after dining on civilian food for the past year, the three-cheese-tortellini, that’d been her favorite of the disgusting meals, tasted a lot worse than she remembered. At least, it came with a pack of M&Ms she’d save for later. They’d been hiking for four hours with a fifteen minute break at the two hour mark, and had another four to five hours to go before they reached the spot Ian had mapped out for them. It was a rock outcropping where they’d have some shelter from the elements for the night.

  The rest of the team was scattered around her, finishing off their own meals, and she made a mental note to stay far away from Foster after seeing he’d ended up with a chicken burrito bowl. It was almost a surefire bet that in a few hours his digestive system would be revolting against the meal. From the sly smirks the rest of the team was sending his way, they surmised the same thing. Being former military at times like this was definitely an advantage.

  A few conversations combined with the sounds of nature, but Lindsey closed her eyes and rested her head against the tree, ignoring how strands from her brown ponytail caught on the bark. Her thoughts were miles away, back in Tampa, with the man she’d almost gone to bed with the other night. Mousaf Amar, head of security for the royal family of the small North-African country of Timasur, had made the trip to Florida with King Rajeemh and Queen Azhar, and their two adult children. It was Her Royal Majesty’s first visit to the states since an unexpected illness last year, and Lindsey had finally met the regal woman after being on details for the king, Prince Raj, and Princess Tahira. Trident provided additional security for the monarchs whenever they were staying in their Clearwater Beach mansion. And there was something about the dark-skinned, brown-eyed Amar—everyone called him by his surname—that made the female operative’s heart race, and girlie-parts stand up and take notice.

  It’d been a long time since she’d felt an instant attraction to a man, but that’s what had happened when she’d first met Amar six months ago, when Princess Tahira had been in town. Lindsey had walked into the Trident conference room where her team, Ian, Amar, and Brody Evans from the Alpha Team were preparing for a briefing about an event the princess was attending. While all heads had turned at her arrival, and her team busted her chops about the female-cut tuxedo she was wearing, a warmth of awareness had come over her. It’d been the result of the appreciative gaze coming from the one person in the room she hadn’t met yet. Amar’s eyes had roamed her body, setting off tingles and goosebumps, and hell, that was from ten feet away.

  When Brody had introduced them, Amar’s smooth-as-silk voice had mesmerized her. It’d taken everything in her to remember where they were and why they were there. Since that night, the two of them had danced around each other whenever Amar had been in Florida—sometimes for days, other times for a week or two. Lindsey wasn’t always assigned to the royal detail, but some visits involved public events, and it was easier for her to be with the queen or princess in case either woman needed to use the rest room.

  Two other female bodyguards had been recently added to Trident’s Personal Security Division, and they’d been on-duty with Lindsey and a few of the company’s men the other night. The royal family had attended an invitation-only gala at the Tampa Museum of Art. They’d loaned the museum an exhibit of Timasurian art and artifacts to be displayed for six weeks, and the event had been the big debut.

  As they’d been doing over the past few months, Lindsey and Amar had found themselves having intellectual and professional conversations before and during the detail. What had been different this time was they’d met for a drink after both their assignments had ended for the night. One thing led to another, and they’d ended up at her apartment around 3:00 a.m.

  While I fished my keys out of my purse, Amar clutched my hips and pulled my ass flush against his groin, then nibbled on my neck. The heat of his mouth sent delicious chills down my spine as I tilted my head to the side to give him easier access. His lips were soft, but I could feel the power in them that could take me to amazing heights of ecstasy. It was pure seduction at its finest. With the distraction, it took me longer to locate my keychain, but I was determined to find it and move this party inside where we didn’t have to worry about prying eyes.

  “Sei una donna molto bella,” he whispered in my ear as my hand closed around the keys and I triumphantly pulled them from the bag. I’d learned over the past few months, that in addition to his military training, Amar had attended Harvard for two years before finishing up his degree in Italy. Schooled in both Eastern and Western cultures, he spoke five languages fluently, and each one sounded like foreplay to me no matter what he was saying when he spoke—even if I didn’t understand the words.

  Opening the door, I hoped like hell I wasn’t violating any company rules. The Sawyers had made it perfectl
y clear that the flirtatious Princess Tahira was off-limits to the men of Trident, but never had anything been said about her head of security. Technically, he wasn’t their client, the royal family was, and it wasn’t as if I was going to walk into work tomorrow and announce I’d slept with the man. Although if his form of seduction was any indication of how he fucked, I may not be able to keep a silly “I got laid” look off my face.

  When the door shut, Amar pinned me against a wall in the small foyer, and his mouth descended on mine. As our tongues tangled, I dropped my purse, and we both began to disarm ourselves. Safeties were engaged on the guns before they thumped to the carpeted floor along with our holsters, extra ammo, and knives. We then reached up to undress each other. As much as I wanted to rip the crisp, dress shirt from his sculpted torso, I figured he couldn’t return to the Clearwater Beach mansion that way. My fingers fumbled along the buttons as the room filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing.

  Once our suit jackets and shirts were off, Amar reached into one of my bra cups and lifted my breast free. Bending down, he took the taut nipple into his mouth and laved it with attention from his tongue, teeth, and lips. My head fell back against the wall as I dug my nails into his muscular back, eliciting a groan from him. It vibrated through my skin and went straight to my core, increasing my desire.

  While one hand held my breast aloft for him, his other trailed down to where I was hot, wet, and wanting. I lifted one knee to his hip, and ground my pelvis into his palm. Through my dress pants, his fingers teased me, and I begged for more—almost incoherently. “Please, Amar. Feel … you make me … feel alive … more.”

  “With pleasure, mia dolce.”

  His mouth switched to my other breast while he found the button and zipper of my pants. Just as he was about to slide his calloused hand down into my panties, a cell phone rang loudly, and Amar froze, then cursed. “Damn it. I’m sorry, my sweet, but I have to answer that. At 3:00 a.m. it must be important.”

  I nodded as I gasped for air and relaxed against the wall that was somehow holding me upright, since my knees were quivering with excitement and need. I was pleased to see he seemed just as affected as he caught his breath. “I-It’s okay. I understand.” Probably more than any other woman he’d ever been with.

  Taking a step back, he bent at the waist and grabbed his jacket from the floor, quickly locating his cell before it stopped ringing. Without looking at the screen, he answered the call in a frustrated bark. “Amar.”

  After a few moments of him asking questions and then getting answers, I realized our night was over before we ever got to the really good parts. Disconnecting the call, he gazed at me with eyes filled with desire and regret. He reached up and cupped my chin, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I’m so sorry, mia dolce. A bomb threat was called into the mansion. They’re evacuating, and I need to be there.”

  Turning my head slightly, I pressed my lips against his warm palm. My voice was still husky as I said, “I understand. Do you need help? I can follow you there.”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. You’ve had a long night. Climb into bed and dream of me.” After kissing me gently on the lips then my forehead, he quickly got dressed and was gone.

  “Hey, AAAboooott!”

  She startled at Foster calling her name in classic Lou Costello style, and glared at him. “What, Shades?” The team had all agreed the call sign fit the man to a ‘T.’

  “Are you coming with us, or do you want to nap for a little while longer?”

  Glancing around she realized everyone had finished eating and was geared up. She was the only one still sitting on the ground. “Yeah, I’m coming. I’ve had all the beauty rest I need. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a few more hours.”

  “Personally, I think he could have days of beauty sleep and it wouldn’t help,” Mancini quipped.

  As she’d intended, that got the banter and jabs going again. Standing, she put the remnants of her meal in a plastic bag and sealed it. She tucked it into her deployment bag which she then swung onto her back and picked up her sniper rifle. Within minutes, they were on their way.

  CHAPTER 5

  Never had Foster felt so out of shape. Between high school and college sports, the Secret Service, and now Trident, he’d kept his body in peak physical condition over the years. But with the ups and downs of the mountain landscape, and the lower oxygen levels, he felt like he’d spent the past year scarfing down nothing but Big Macs for a documentary of what not to eat. It didn’t help that his gut and ass were on fire from the MRE he’d eaten earlier.

  The rest of the team had clearly known what was up the first time he’d needed a pit stop since their laughter echoed off the surrounding landscape. He was obviously going to need to do some research on MREs. It was evident there was a method to choosing which ones were safe to eat. No one else seemed to be in gastrointestinal distress but him. It was as if an alien being had taken up residence in his abdomen and was trying to dig its way out.

  Finishing from his third trip into the woods for some privacy, he joined the others taking their last fifteen minute break of the day. They should be reaching what would be their campsite in another two hours or so. Glancing around, he saw McCabe was on the satellite phone again, most likely with Ian, getting an update on the missing hiker, since they weren’t supposed to be using it for non-emergencies.

  Taking a seat on a large boulder next to Morrison, Foster pulled the water pouch out of his deployment bag and took a long pull on the straw-like tubing attached to it. “So, how much longer do I have to deal with the fucking shits?”

  The man chuckled. “You should be all right by the time we reach camp. Just be glad you didn’t have the cheese omelet. That crap gave me the runs for almost twenty-four hours on my first tour of duty. On top of the fact it was the most disgusting thing ever. Never ate it again. I’d rather starve.”

  Foster had gotten very comfortable with the team over the past year, dispelling any doubts he’d had about leaving the Secret Service. It’d been a job he’d loved for years until some bad shit went down about thirty months ago during a trip to Jamaica protecting the Speaker of the House’s family on a vacation. The man’s twelve-year-old daughter had been the target of an Al Qaeda kidnapping attempt. While Cain had been able to save her, two other agents had been shot and killed. The ensuing investigation revealed that as the supervising agent, he’d done nothing wrong, but Cain would live the rest of his life knowing two men had died under his command. He’d leapt at the chance to join Trident after he’d heard through US covert spy T. Carter that the company was looking to expand. Foster had gotten to know the man at several top secret meetings at the White House, and at Club X, an elite, private, BDSM club in the Georgetown area of Washington D.C. Carter was good friends with the original Trident team as well as a Dom at The Covenant. Apparently he had memberships to lifestyle clubs all over the world. It was amazing how many movers and shakers in politics and business were into kink, and the general public had no idea.

  Up until that horrible day when he’d lost two subordinates and almost lost an asset, Cain had been having an ideal life—at least it was his ideal. He’d had a respectable and exciting job, and been promoted to supervisor two years prior. His personal life suited him too—the BDSM lifestyle allowed him to get what he needed, when he needed it, and his contracts with submissives always had an end date on them. He’d grown up the child of two very unhappy people who, instead of getting a divorce like normal couples who couldn’t stand each other, had stayed together and lived a miserable co-existence. As a result, Cain knew he’d never follow in their footsteps and put a ring on a woman’s finger.

  He’d discovered the lifestyle ten years ago, at the age of twenty-five. As a new agent, he’d been assigned to help protect a visiting foreign dignitary for a month. The man had a dark, sexual appetite and his security detail had been required to accompany him to Club X. Guarding the asset there on numerous occasions, Cain had
discovered a whole new world he’d never known existed. While he wasn’t drawn to the darker play, the milder power exchanges suited him perfectly. After the detail was over, he’d filled out a membership application for the same club. Upon having it approved, he’d apprenticed under a few more experienced Doms until he’d learned and tried every type of play that had called to him.

  The lifestyle grounded him. It also gave him the chance to have temporary hookups, with a contract, an end date, and no expectations of him beyond that. Long-term relationships weren’t his thing. If that meant he’d eventually die alone, so be it. With any luck, he’d go out in a blaze of glory one week before retirement, whenever that might be.

  When McCabe disconnected the call, it drew Cain’s attention. “Did they find her yet?”

  His teammate shook his head. “No. The dogs lost her scent, but the direction they were heading in was almost straight for us. The weird thing is, they haven’t found a single trace of her beyond the scent. No sign of her backpack, camera, or anything else she had with her.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Knight said. “Any chance she’s mentally ill or suicidal?”

  Again, McCabe shook his head. “Not according to the family. Her uncle’s the local sheriff, and Ian said it would be extremely out of character if she disappeared on her own. Anyway, if we do cross paths with her, it will probably be sometime tomorrow. Let’s load up and get moving—that is, unless you have to shit again, Shades?”

  Foster gave him the middle finger and prayed like hell the man wasn’t jinxing him. Hoisting his pack on his back, he adjusted the straps. From the satellite photos and maps they’d studied, they were near the top of a hundred foot cliff they’d have to rappel down in order to make it to the site where they’d be making camp. After free-roping out of the chopper, that sounded like a piece of cake. At the thought, his intestines roared. Son of a fucking bitch.