Escape with a Hot SEAL

by Cat Johnson

  The entire area was in ruins with vehicles mangled and buildings crumbling. Just down the block, at what must have been ground zero for the explosion, was a crater at least a dozen feet deep.

  Then there was the human toll. This was the Afghan capital’s diplomatic district on a weekday during rush hour. Banks, embassies, government buildings, markets—and all the people who’d be among them.

  They needed to get down there and do what they could to help until emergency vehicles arrived. Even from this distance he could see the casualties were horrendous.

  His unit might be trained to kill but they were also well trained in first aid in the field. In situations like this, a simple tourniquet could mean the difference between life and death for the victims.

  He’d just had the thought when Grant topped the staircase. “Get downstairs and outside. Triage the wounded. Help whoever can be saved.”

  “And if we encounter a threat?” James Mack McIntyre asked.

  It was a good question. Thom had been wondering about the rules of engagement himself. They hadn’t been briefed for how to respond to an attack while inside a foreign embassy located in one of the busiest and supposedly safest neighborhoods in the capital.

  Grant’s nostrils flared as he said, “Do what’s necessary.”

  As the sound of booted feet thundered down the stairs Thom couldn’t help but think that had the explosion come a couple of hours earlier, as they were arriving, it could be him and his platoon lying in the street bleeding out. And if it had come one minute later as he and Brody crossed the street to get food, it could have been him down there in bloody pieces.

  It was a sobering thought, one that had his heart pounding until he pushed through the door and out into the sunlight clouded by dust and smoke.

  All the what ifs that had been running through his brain fled. He had the reality of the bomb’s aftermath to deal with.

  After crossing the courtyard and running through the gate of the high walls, which had done much to protect the embassy from the blast, he saw the full extent of the horror close up.

  As the sound of police sirens in the distance grew louder, his boots crunched on shards of glass. He skirted the worst of the debris in the rubble-clogged street.

  At the sight of the first bloodied victim, training and adrenaline took over and he went to work to save who he could. Hopefully, there was no one out there lying in wait, set on preventing him from doing that.

  CHAPTER 5

  The waiting and wondering was driving Ginny crazy.

  She’d been walking around with the cell phone in her hand for the past two weeks. All day, every day. Bringing it with her to the bathroom. Propping it up within reach of the shower stall. Obsessively charging it and checking it had signal. Sleeping with it next to her head with the volume on high so she wouldn’t miss a call should it come while she slept.

  What else could she do? If she missed a call from Thom while he was away she’d just die.

  She remained attached to the device like it was another appendage even though Molly did roll her eyes at Ginny’s neurotic dependence on the device every time they were together.

  Easy for Molly to judge. She didn’t have a boyfriend running off to God only knew where doing life threatening things Ginny wasn’t even allowed to know about.

  Molly didn’t have to maintain a long distance relationship where the only connection was contingent upon a stupid electronic device—or a smart device, as the case may be.

  In fact, Molly was currently between serious boyfriends and having a great time going out on dates with practically a different guy each weekend, so she didn’t have to worry about anything at all.

  A realization slapped Ginny in the face like a bucket of cold water. It was only a couple of years ago, before she’d met Thom, that she’d been the one going out on dates with a different guy each week from one dating website or another, and absolutely hating it. And she had been insanely envious of Molly who’d been the one with the steady boyfriend.

  Now, the situation was reversed but Ginny still envied aspects of her friend’s carefree, worry-free life. Apparently it was true that the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence.

  Ginny was so busy ranting inside her own head about so many things that when her cell phone rang while in her hand she jumped.

  Her gaze shot to the display as Thom’s name and photo appeared and she nearly dropped the phone trying to swipe the screen to answer the call.

  She was breathless as she pressed it to her ear and said, “Hi.”

  “Hey, baby.” He sounded less excited to be speaking with her than she was to finally hear from him. Ginny wrote that off to his being tired.

  No matter how he sounded, it was an enormous relief to hear his voice. To know he was safe.

  “Are you home?” she asked. Sometimes he called while in transit when he could find cell signal or internet while traveling.

  “Yeah. We got in real late last night.”

  “Oh.” Ginny glanced at the clock. It was already the afternoon. He’d been home for almost a day and he was just getting around to calling her now? She pressed her lips together, determined to not comment on that and decided to change the subject. “So have you thought about a date for our visit?”

  Memorial Day weekend had come and gone, and he’d been away for it, but having new plans would make her feel so much better about having missed their visit.

  “Um . . .” That single syllable from Thom’s lips had Ginny’s hopes falling. “Hold off on that for a little bit.”

  She bit her lip before saying, “Okay.”

  At a loss for what else to say, she remained silent. She knew better than to ask about where he’d been or what he’d done. It was pointless to press him to make firm plans for a visit. Experience had taught her that when dealing with the military, plans changed—often.

  She heard the noise of male voices around him and asked, “Do you have to go?”

  “Yeah, I should. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

  Ginny drew in a breath through her nose and let it out. “Okay.”

  “I love you.” Those words from his mouth usually never failed to soften her heart, even through the worst of the disappointment and sadness. But today, they didn’t do as much as usual to make her feel better.

  Even so, she said, “I love you too.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  “Bye.” She’d just said the word when the cell went silent as he disconnected.

  Now that the relief from learning he was safe was starting to fade, she went cold inside.

  Ginny tossed the cell to the sofa cushion and stood. She stalked toward the kitchen area, freed from carrying the cell in her hand for the first time in weeks.

  She’d see him again, one day, and the moment she did she’d forget what this overwhelming disappointment felt like, but right now, it was time for some comfort food.

  CHAPTER 6

  Thom disconnected the call with Ginny and walked to the break room.

  He threw his six-foot frame into the chair and sank back into the cushions of the chair next to Brody.

  Brody took one look at Thom’s face and said, “Call not go well?”

  “Nope.” Thom had heard the tone of Ginny’s voice change from the start of the call to the end.

  She was losing patience with him, with this whole long distance thing, and he didn’t blame her. Relationships were hard enough when two people lived in the same state. Forget about with hundreds of miles in between them.

  “Need to talk?” Brody asked.

  “Nope.”

  “A’ighty, then.” The energy drink was barely up to Brody’s mouth when Thom spun in the chair to face him.

  “If I don’t ask her soon, she’s going to give up on us. I can feel it.”

  Brody lowered the can again. “Is that the reason you wanna get married? So she won’t break up with you?”

  “No, of course not. That’s not it. I want to be with her
. Married to her. More than anything.”

  “Good God almighty, you’re making my head hurt. Bro, if you want to marry her, then ask her.”

  Thom threw his hands in the air. “I can’t get to her. I’m trapped here for who knows how long thanks to this new assignment. And I’m sure as hell not asking her to come down knowing we’ll likely be gone again soon.”

  It just figured that sometimes they’d go months between ops with nothing to do but train at Little Creek to keep their skills sharp, but now that he really needed to see Ginny, the platoon was getting back-to-back assignments.

  “Hey, I just said to do it. I didn’t say it would be easy. You’ll figure it out.”

  That advice was less than useless.

  “Great. Thanks.” Scowling, Thom pressed back against the cushions, frustrated with the situation and annoyed with Brody whether he deserved it or not.

  “Sure. Anytime,” Brody said, his tone upbeat.

  Thom had to hand it to him, the man didn’t get insulted easily, even with as hard as Thom tried.

  But Brody was right about one thing, Thom was going to have to figure out how to make this work and soon.

  First chance he got, he’d ask Grant for leave. If and when he got it approved, he was jumping in the SUV and heading the seven hours north to lock this relationship with Ginny down. Make her at least his fiancé if not his wife.

  Dawson stuck his head into the break room. “Yeo. Meeting room. They’re ready to start.”

  It seemed their short reprieve between briefings was done.

  “A’ight. Thanks.” Brody hoisted himself out of the chair and pitched his can into the recycling bin. “Break’s over. Time to go.”

  This morning had been a post-mission debrief about Kabul. They had reviewed everything that had gone wrong and went over how they could handle it better next time. This briefing they were walking into now was to prepare them for the next mission.

  Usually the action was scarce enough to make the guys itch to get going somewhere. Thom hoped this new heightened level of activity was seasonal—just a result of Ramadan—and not the new normal. Because the way things had been going lately, a couple of months of good old boring trainings were looking pretty damn good.

  Thom hoisted his tired body out of the chair and followed Brody out the door and into the meeting room.

  By the time he arrived, he saw the man reputed to be the platoon’s computer guru, Will Weber, up in front of the room. With him stood Grant and the other unit’s commanding officer Mike Groenning.

  There were empty seats on either side of Rocky, so Thom pulled out one chair while Brody took the other.

  “What’s Willy Wonka doing up there in front?” Brody asked, tipping his chin toward Will.

  Poor Will had turned blue during drown proofing in BUD/S making him look just like the girl who’d ate too much candy in the Willy Wonka movie. After that, with the first name William he had no hope of avoiding the nickname.

  Rocky lifted his shoulders. “No clue. You know as much as I do.”

  Thom leaned forward to answer Brody next to Rocky. “Might be cyber related somehow if they brought in the computer wizard and his toys.”

  Currently Will had not one but two oversized laptops set on the table in front of him and was punching keys with one hand on each keyboard. Behind him, the blank screen was bright white with the illumination of the projector.

  “I’d say you’re right.” Rocky laughed. “Damn, look at all that shit he’s got.”

  Brody shook his head. “Yeah, well, he can keep it. I don’t even like using a damn smart phone. I miss my old flip phone.”

  “You’re nuts.” Rocky snorted, shaking his head at Brody.

  “Everybody here?” Grant asked in a voice loud and commanding enough to silence the low chatter in the room.

  Next to him, Groenning nodded. “Looks like. Go ahead, Weber.”

  “All right, guys. So here he is. Meet your next worst nightmare.” A picture flashed on the screen of a child and the room broke out in laughter.

  Fitz, a guy from Will’s unit, said, “A kid?”

  “He was a kid then.” Will glanced from the group to the screen. “On screen, my friends, is the last known photo of Osama Bin Laden’s son, Hamza. The only son born to him by his third and reputedly favorite wife. He’s about twenty-eight years old now and the next best hope for al-Qaeda.”

  “Then why are there no current photos?” The question came from another of Will’s teammates, Tompkins.

  “Because he’s smart, making him a triple threat.” Will spun away from the screen to face them. “Hamza can trace his bloodline back directly to Mohammad on his mother’s side. He’s Osama’s son. And, as I said, he’s no dummy.” Will counted off the three points on his fingers. “More, unlike others in the terrorist group, he’s never been critical of Daesh so he hadn’t made an enemy of that group’s supporters. And he’s encouraging more violent, less coordinated, lone wolf violence against the West in a clear attempt to woo away the followers from the weakened Islamic State.”

  Grant took a step forward. “He’s got the heart and the ear of the mujahedeen. That, combined with his lineage, makes Hamza the one figure who could unify the fractured Islamist militants and that makes him dangerous.”

  “And he’s still pissed about Abbottabad and vowing revenge for the death of his father and half brother,” Will added. “He’s not ever seen but he sure as hell is heard and what he’s saying is resonating with the younger generation of jihadists. In fact, Hamza posted a statement calling for attacks against major Western cities just two weeks before the bombing in Manchester.”

  “Damn,” Rocky blew out the curse softly beneath his breath.

  “In addition to there being no confirmed recent photos, his location is also unknown,” Groenning added.

  “However . . .” Will stepped toward his computers again. “I have a lead.”

  Thom smiled. He had no doubt. If anyone could find Osama’s heir apparent, Will could.

  The picture on screen changed to a satellite image of a stately building with a walled courtyard. “This is where I believe Hamza lived for part of the time his father had him stashed away in Iran for safe keeping after 9/11. Right up until just before we took out Osama and Khalid in Abbottabad. It belongs to a family friend. It’s also where I think we’ll find clues to where Hamza could be now.”

  “Mark your calendars, boys.” Grant grinned. “We’re going in during the next new moon.”

  Sad but true, Thom knew exactly when the next new moon would be. These new moon raids had begun to become the norm.

  Just this calendar year there had already been two. Both in Yemen. The first, in January, had become a clusterfuck of epic proportions and had ended with a flag draped coffin for one of his SEAL brothers and not much, if any, useful intelligence. The second, in Marib in May, had been successful, yielding a slew of information.

  Given those odds of success, fifty-fifty by his calculations, Thom knew what he was going to have to do.

  Grant was moments away from dismissing them, he hoped. The two commanders were up there in deep discussion with each other while the dozen men in the room cooled their heels and waited to be cut loose.

  Thom sat on the edge of his seat waiting for that moment and when it finally came, he almost sprinted to get to Grant, bobbing and weaving against the tide of guys trying to get out of the room while he was trying to get farther in.

  “Sir, can I talk to you?”

  “Sure.” Grant nodded. “What’s up?”

  “I’d like to officially request leave to travel to see Ginny in Connecticut.”

  Grant pressed his lips together and drew in a deep breath. “We’re heading out to Iran. There’s no doubt about it. Unless someone way above my pay grade calls it off, this op is a go.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s why I thought now might be a good time to take a couple of days. We won’t be at the top of the list to get sent anywhere else because we’re
scheduled to leave so soon for Iran.”

  Shaking his head, Grant laughed. “That’s actually some real good reasoning you came up with there.”

  Not sure if it was a compliment or not, Thom said, “Uh, thank you.”

  “Just a couple of days?” Grant asked.

  “Yes.” If he had to he’d drive up one day, ask her, and drive home the next. Not ideal but better than nothing.

  “Mind if I ask what’s so pressing you have to get to Connecticut? And keep in mind you can tell me to mind my own damn business, though that might not help sway me in favor of giving you this leave.” Grant grinned.

  “I’m going there to propose to her.”

  Grant’s eyes widened. “Wow. Not what I was expecting.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Thom let out a short laugh. He knew his divorce and the aftermath was no secret. “I know it’s last minute but I don’t wanna wait if I don’t have to. She had plans to come down here to see me over Memorial Day—”

  “And we were in Afghanistan instead.” Grant nodded.

  “Yeah. I figure I owe her a visit and I’d like to do it before we leave.”

  “Your parents are up there too, correct?” Grant asked.

  “Yes, sir. In Massachusetts. About two hours away from where Ginny lives.”

  Lips pressed together, Grant nodded. “Command allows you ninety-six hours to visit parents before deploying. I’ll extend that and give you the whole weekend instead of making you be back by Saturday. Be back on base and at the team meeting at zero-eight-hundred Monday.

  Thom’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say.”

  “No need to say anything. Now get out of here and have fun.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will.”

  He turned for the door and heard Grant say, “Keep your cell on. Just in case.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Thom said, “Always do, sir. Just in case.”

  Monday. He had the whole weekend.

  Even though he was exhausted from running on next to no sleep, he practically sprinted to his vehicle in the parking lot.