by Sabrina York
But then an explosion from the stern rocked the boat. Everyone in the cubby gasped at the shudder of steel. A scream of metal reverberated, a harsh clunk, and then the engine fell silent.
“Oh God,” Nancy wailed. Her face was drenched in sweat, her expression wild.
“It’ll be okay, Nancy.” Lily patted her hand.
“No. It won’t. Don’t you see? They’ve blown out the propellers. We can’t run.”
“Someone will save us.”
Pierre snorted. “It could take days before help comes. Days.”
“We’ll be fine.”
She could tell the others were annoyed by her pronouncements, but Lily was used to that. Optimism annoyed a lot of people. They glared at her, all but Brandy, who wrapped her arm around Lily’s shoulder and tugged her close. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered. “Dear God, I hope you’re right.”
* * *
They knew when the pirates boarded. The sounds wafted down from the upper decks like eerie wraiths. The yells, the cries, gunfire. Pounding footsteps. Calls in some language Lily did not understand. Laughter.
Everyone stiffened as the invaders swarmed down to the hold. Lily held her breath as they ripped open crates, pillaged the cargo, and chattered about their booty. At least, that was what Lily assumed, since she couldn’t understand a word.
She nearly fainted when they left, but only because holding her breath had made her dizzy.
It got quiet then, except for the occasional shouts and mysterious thuds. Lily closed her eyes and rested, but she was too wound up to sleep.
Sometime in the night, they came back and began ransacking the hold, searching…for something. Her heart shot into her throat as she heard footsteps nearing their refuge; it swelled when the door to their hiding place rattled. The cubby locked from the inside, but only by a thin bolt.
A voice rang out. More footsteps echoed.
Another rattle. Harder this time.
Nancy made a peep, an anguished whimper. Pierre muffled the sound with his palm. They all sat as still as they could, as quietly as they could, praying the pirates would give up and go away. The tension sizzling around them was a palpable thing.
And then, with a horrifying groan, the teeth of a crowbar slammed between the door and the frame, and the barrier was wrenched open.
The weak beam of the flashlight was nearly blinding as the pirate shined it over them. When it flickered away from her eyes, making it possible to see, Lily froze. Her pulse leapt. The barrel of a rifle was pointed right at her head.
She glanced up at the pirate’s face muted in the shadows. He was a young boy, maybe fifteen, skinny and scarred. His clothes were ratty and hung on his bony frame. His pants were torn and he wore thin flip-flops barely large enough for his feet. There was a tinge of triumph on his face as he stared at them, but Lily saw a hint of fear as well.
“Out. Out,” he barked, waving the gun as he backed away. His compatriots, also young, huddled around him, their guns poised.
“Slowly,” Brandy said under her breath. “And hold up your hands so they know we don’t have weapons.”
Lily nodded and eased out of the cubby. Her muscles complained. They’d been locked in one position for hours. As she stood and stretched, she sent a wobbly, reassuring smile to her captors.
They did not smile back.
But then, she didn’t expect them to.
They were pirates, after all.
And she was their captive.
Chapter Two
Ryder “Stone” Maddox bent as he passed through the hatch into the war room of the USS Sierra Nevada. He grimaced. The rest of the squadron was already assembled, all but his team. Shit. That meant he owed the other team leaders a round. Rocco and Buzz smirked.
His team had been on training maneuvers in the Gulf of Aden when they’d gotten the recall notice and had to be flown in. They’d only just arrived.
Lieutenant Harper, the officer in charge, stood at the front of the room. As he waited to start the briefing, he chatted with an officer in full uniform who had his back to the crews.
This mission must be important, if the brass was here.
Of course, all their missions were important, but Stone could tell from the crackling energy, this one was different.
He frowned at his men; they winced and double-timed it into the room. Mason, Tate, Garrett, and Luke had their game faces on. Even Zack looked solemn. Only Drake shot him a grin. But then, Drake would.
The little shit had no concept of decorum. Never had.
At the request of Admiral Birch, Drake had just been assigned to Stone’s team. Whether Stone liked it or not, he was saddled with him. Not that Drake wasn’t one of the best. He was. But he and Stone had a history.
Goddamn it.
Harper glanced up as they took their seats. “Nice of you to join us, gentlemen,” he quipped. The officer at his side turned, and Stone stilled. Something nasty curled in his gut. Fuck a duck. Brandywine himself, the commander of the entire SEAL team.
Definitely important.
Stone shot a glare at his squad, warning them silently to be on their best behavior.
Most of them already knew. Most of them were familiar with Brandywine. He was a legend. Before his promotion into Command, he’d been a SEAL himself. They’d fucking studied him at the Naval Special Warfare Prep School.
Whatever this was, it was huge for him to be here.
Harper cleared his throat. “Okay, boys. Shall we begin?”
A boisterous “Hooah!” rang off the walls.
Harper turned on the overhead and a map of the Indian Ocean came up on screen. “The commander is on a tight schedule and wants to address you personally, but before he does, let’s go over the mission specs. This is a hostage rescue.”
A groan rumbled through Rocco’s team. No doubt they were hoping for orders to find Bin Laden…and kill him again.
Harper frowned at them. “Secure that,” he clipped.
Rocco glowered at his team. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“A Dutch cruise ship named the Avonturier, heading for Kenya, was boarded by pirates. The crew and passengers were taken prisoner…here.” He whacked the map with his pointer, smack dab in the middle of the ocean off the coast of Somalia.
Stone shared a look with Mason. His expression said it all. Another pirate attack. Awesome. They’d served on several rescue missions before, which was probably why they were here.
Buzz raised his hand. “Excuse me, sir. A cruise ship? In the Indian Ocean…off the coast of Somalia?” His tone made his opinion clear. If they were stupid enough to cruise in pirate-infested waters, they got what they deserved.
“The ship was blown off course during a recent storm. They were heading for Kenya carrying supplies for an Ethiopian relief project and…” His gaze danced to Brandywine. “A group of aid workers.”
“Missionaries,” Buzz muttered.
“According to our intelligence, they are being held here”—another whack—“on an island in the Bajuni Archipelago along the southeast point of Somalia.”
Stone frowned. Without thought, his hand shot up. Harper had always encouraged them to ask questions during briefings. He usually waited until the end, but this…
“Maddox?”
“Sir. They’re being held on an island?” Usually when the clans took ships, they held them offshore and the hostages remained onboard.
Harper nodded, his features harsh. “Lucky for us, this isn’t a typical pirate crew.” The bite in his tone did not bode well. “Apparently this crew is not affiliated with any of the known clans. The reason they’re not parked off the coast while they work on negotiating ransoms is because these geniuses refused to pay the local militia. After which they were asked, not so politely, to leave.
“Since they brilliantly blew the props in the attack, they had to travel by sail, which slowed them down. After being refused at each port, they landed on this island in the Archipelago and basically invaded, killing
any of the native Bajuunis who resisted.”
Stone’s hand shot up again. “Killing, sir?” Typically pirate crews avoided bloodshed if they could. The clans frowned on it as it was not profitable.
“Right.” Harper massaged his temples. “These fellows, apparently, are rebels. Or desperate. They’ve already broken multiple conventions your typical Somali pirate follows. Our intelligence says…” He glanced at the commander again. “At least one of the passengers and three of the crew are dead. The crew members were killed during the firefight and the passenger apparently attempted an escape.”
“How many hostages are there?” Rocco asked.
“Twenty-seven crew members and four passengers. From what we can tell, a total of sixteen pirates. There were originally eight, but when they landed on the island, they were joined by another crew.” Harper flicked a switch on the remote and a new map came up with the layout of the island. It was long and slender and the topography was fairly flat, but then most archipelagos were little more than glorified reefs. There was a village on each end and an X on the eastern shore, about midpoint, marked as the extraction point. “We believe the pirates are holding the hostages here.” He pointed to the village on the south end of the island. “Squads three, four, and five, this is your target. Your mission…take out the pirates and rescue those hostages.
“Squad two, you clear and hold the landing zone here. We’ll send Chinooks out for pickup when you radio in. Squad one, you’re tasked with clearing the village to the north. According to our drones, there’s not much activity there, but some hostiles have been spotted in the vicinity.”
Stone nodded, swallowing his disappointment. He’d hoped to be part of the frontal assault. Every SEAL wanted to be in the middle of the action pretty much all the time, but he knew each task was critical to the overall mission or it wouldn’t be a task. Clearing and securing the northern village would protect the troops at the extraction point as well as the ones working to the south.
But damn.
Harper scanned the company with a razor-sharp gaze. “Our top priority is the four passengers.”
“Wait,” Buzz piped up. “The four passengers?”
He shouldn’t have piped up.
Harper gored him with a glare.
“These are high-profile passengers.” Every head whipped to Brandywine who, until now, had not spoken.
“High profile, sir?” Something tensed in Stone’s gut. Crap. He hated anything high profile.
The commander nodded to Harper, who switched the screen. An angel appeared. No. Not an angel. A girl. A woman. Ethereal, beautiful with soft blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. The lines of her face were delicate and perfectly symmetrical. Even her teeth were straight. She held a puppy in her arms and smiled with a brilliance that should have blinded him.
Whistles rounded the room. Harper didn’t even bother to glare everyone down.
Goddamn, she was gorgeous.
Stone’s lust rose and he wrangled it back.
This was a briefing. She was a target. A high-profile target. The worst possible kind. There was no room for lust in his work. When the thought occurred that he probably needed to get laid, he pushed that away too.
He focused instead on the delicate features, the vulnerability in her eyes. Shit. A woman like this, in the hands of heartless pirates? The thought tore at him, and his resolve to do what he could to bring her home unharmed swelled.
“This, gentlemen, is Liliana Wilson.” Harper shot a hard look at each and every man. “What? Name not familiar to you?”
“No, sir.” A chorus.
“Maybe you’ve heard of her father? Senator Oberon Wilson?”
Silence settled on the assemblage.
Shitfuck.
A senator.
They were the worst.
And Wilson was the front-runner for the vice presidential slot in the next election. Could this get any worse?
“The other passengers…” Harper shuffled through the papers on his clipboard. “Pierre LeMarc, a French sociology student. Michael Tippet, an engineer. Nancy Sayers, a nurse and…” He glanced at the commander and toggled to the next slide. Another smiling girl. This one with auburn pigtails, a raft of freckles over her nose, a crooked smile…and braces. “Susan Brandywine.”
All eyes snapped to the commander. All but Drake’s. “Shit,” he muttered. “Is she seven?”
Brandywine’s expression tightened as he stared at the picture of the little girl. His little girl. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “This is the only photo I have of her. The last one her mother sent me. She is…older now.” His throat worked. “If you boys could bring my daughter home safely, I would be very appreciative.”
“Yes, sir.” The response was automatic. As though there was any possibility of failure. They were Navy SEALs for fuck sake. They never failed.
The commander nodded and checked his watch. Then, after a whispered confab with Harper, he sketched a salute to the men and left the room. When the door closed behind him, a ruckus broke out.
Harper silenced them all with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t want to stress this in front of him, but you all need to be aware. This is not your typical pirate crew. For most of these bastards, this is just a business. The crews try very hard to keep their hostages safe and in good health. They are respectful of women. These guys… Well, they’ve already killed one hostage that we know of.”
Stone’s attention tracked back to the picture of Susan Brandywine. He set his teeth as he thought of what could have happened to her, what could be happening now.
“Needless to say, time is of the essence. Team medics, be sure your bags are stocked. We have no idea what we’ll find.” Harper scrolled back to the slide showing the map of the island. Though it only flickered for a second as he toggled through, that vision of the angel hit Stone like a fist to the gut. Again.
“Okay. Here’s how it’s going to play out. It will be a nighttime incursion. We’ll be flying you in with a HAHO drop out of Lemonnier.” Not a surprise. If one wanted to be stealthy, a High Altitude High Opening was the best way to infiltrate a target, and Lemonnier was the closest airfield that could handle a C-17. That they were dropping in over the Indian Ocean, shooting for a tiny island, wasn’t a concern. With their gear and Mason’s navigation skills, they could land on a dime.
At Stone’s side, Drake gave a little chuckle. He loved nighttime drops—probably because jumping out of an airplane from a high altitude in the pitch dark was one of the most dangerous maneuvers they did. And Drake loved a thrill. He always had.
“We’re doing concurrent drops with the first team to the north.” Harper glanced at Stone. “The second team to the extraction point and the other teams to the south. Try not to tangle. Assault teams, once you land, clear the villages, collect your hostages, and make your way here, to the east coast at the center of the island for extraction. We’ll have choppers standing by on this carrier just out of line of sight.” He blew out a breath and his gaze rounded the room. “Any questions?”
“Yes, sir.” Buzz offered a snarky grin. “What if the mission goes tits up?”
Harper was not amused. But then, he rarely was. He was a damn good leader but took no shit off anyone. “Your first priority is those hostages. Whatever it takes to get them out.”
“And the secondary extraction point?” Stone asked. He had to ask. More than once, he’d needed one. Shit happened in the field. Shit happened a lot.
“If, for some reason, you can’t make it to the eastern shore, head for this promontory on the southern coast. At low tide, you can wade across to the next island, but watch your timing or you could be swimming.”
Buzz snorted. Harper narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I know you boys can swim with sixty-pound packs, but we don’t know if your hostages can. And if the tide is coming in, the current could be strong. Not to mention the sand sharks. Your best bet…don’t need the secondary extraction point. Okay. Everybody good?”
“
Aye aye, sir!”
“Good. Keep your ears on and your coms open. Anything else?” He scanned the assembly. “Nothing? Okay. We’ll deploy in two hours. Mess is still open,” he said with a wan grin. “Today’s special is Shit on a Shingle.” A groan rose. “Eat up, boys. For the next few days, it’s MREs. Dismissed.”
A rustle of activity rose as the SEALs all collected their gear and filed from the room. Drake gusted a laugh as he stood. He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. Stone had always hated that. Ever since they’d been kids. His grin was annoying too. “What do ya say, Ryder?” he chirped. “Pretty fucking exciting, isn’t it? Our first mission together and we get to rescue a senator’s daughter?”
Stone frowned. “Just don’t get your ass killed,” he muttered.
“Hey, I’m hardly a bubblegummer.” Drake smirked. “I did earn the Silver Star, you know.”
Hell yeah, he knew. Drake never let him forget it. Brought it up every chance he got. He’d graduated boot camp in a Hall of Fame company—perfect marks—and since he’d earned his trident, he’d been on one award-winning mission after another—including the one where he saved an admiral and his entire entourage.
It would be hell having him on the team because, damn it all, Drake was like a brother to him. Though all the guys on his team were like brothers, Stone managed to keep some emotional distance when it came to the missions. With Drake, it was going to be tough.
They’d grown up together. Their families were close. When they were younger, Drake had followed Stone around like a puppy dog. He’d joined the SEALs because Stone had. Drake’s mom still held him responsible for that.
If anything happened to Drake under Stone’s watch, Elaine would kill him. And then his own mom would kill him again.
Chapter Three
Excitement whipped through Stone as the C-17 fired up and lifted into the sky. The teams were seated in the belly of the plane in the order they would drop. His team was closest to the ramp, because they’d be jumping first.