Code Name_War 0f Stones

by Natasza Waters

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah drummed her clear-polished fingernails on the government issued maple desktop. With the door to her office open, she had a clear view of Sloane’s empty work area. Yesterday, she’d been whisked away by the CIA’s men in black, compliments of one nasty looking general, not to mention the Navy’s stamp of approval. Sarah considered notifying Admiral Austen. Sloane lived by herself in a condo near The Landing. Had she been allowed to call anyone before disappearing into a non-descript black SUV and out the gates of N.A.B Coronado? Would her parents worry if she didn’t call daily? Continuing to drum her nails on the hard surface, Sarah knew one thing for sure. Her brightest and no-nonsense administrations seaman was MIA since thirteen hundred hours July sixth.

  Sliding a gaze toward the armadillo, so named because of its grey hard shell and enough buttons to cover the exterior like a thick coating of scales, Sarah’s phone could complete every communication task known to mankind from transferring to conference calls to dial-backs. She lifted the receiver with one single purpose: to call the number listed as Sloane’s emergency contact highlighted in yellow on her monitor.

  Last night over a pitcher of Sangria and a heaping plate of nachos, she described to her husband what happened on the Grinder. She explained how they’d been called to muster but little information was shared by the brass at the time, except that it was an exercise and required the men to choose a woman to be their partner.

  During the process, she had positioned herself in the front line and four spots to the left of Sloane. A SEAL known as Rodeo, had come sniffing around Sarah after Lieutenant Stone chased him away from Sloane. When Rodeo, a handsome looking guy by most women’s standards, stood front and center, Sarah deliberated his brow raise, seemingly giving her the option to refuse him. She did, on the premise that she was happily married and the exercise seemed like the candidates were being picked to fill the Arc. She had barely shaken her head, but Rodeo got the gist and moved on to choose a woman from the IT department who’d helped them last month when the link to the pay system went down.

  Through dinner, Jake listened thoughtfully and agreed the way they’d enlisted the exercise candidates seemed odd. Being the sensible thinking kind of guy he was, he’d allayed Sarah’s fears.

  For about an hour.

  She tossed and turned in her sleep all night finally giving up at three a.m. and stared out the bedroom window at the streetlight in her comfortable and safe neighborhood. Was Sloane safe?

  Sarah shed another glance around the Admin office. Her staff conducted their daily routines. Hesitancy led to clarity and Sarah dialed her husband.

  “What’s up, sweets?” her husband, Jake, answered after one ring.

  Without a howdy-do, she said, “Sloane’s not back yet. I thought this exercise might turn out to be a few hours, maybe overnight at most.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Sarah. Your minion should be back soon.”

  “She’s not my minion. She’s my friend, and I just received an email from the base Executive Officer. Mysterious at best and it worries me. Basically,”—Sarah clicked on the minimized icon of the email and the message filled her screen—“it says, ‘say nothing, do nothing, forget what you saw.’ I half expected a PS: Blow up your computer after reading this. It’s addressed to the staff in charge of fifteen departments. Fifteen women were taken for the exercise.”

  “Honey, Sloane will be fine. Whatever is going on, she’s got one of the best trained special warfare operators by her side. What could go wrong?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whenever anyone says, ‘What could go wrong?’ it usually means everything could go wrong. I think I should call her father, Admiral Austen, and make sure he knows where she is.”

  “You don’t even know where she is.”

  “True, but Sloane’s dad could find out, and if he doesn’t like what he hears, he’ll do something about it.”

  “Listen to me. As much as we all despise the CIA’s Black Ops, they serve a purpose. Usually, it’s about protecting our country.”

  “By any means possible,” she added. When Jake paused, her fears took a frantic step closer to the panic button.

  Jen swept into her doorway. “Ma’am, we’ve got problems.”

  Sarah nodded for her to explain.

  “The pay system is down again. None of us can get access and today is the last day to input the data. We’re three quarters done, but if this doesn’t get fixed, about five hundred hard working men and women aren’t going to get paid.”

  Sarah released a deep breath of frustration. “Jake, I gotta go. Mayday in progress.”

  “So I heard. Don’t worry about Sloane. She’s in good hands.”

  “Hope you’re right. I’ll give it another day before calling her parents. I don’t want to alarm them without cause. See ya at home.”

  Sarah disconnected and hit the handy quick call button to the IT department. Whatever happened to the days when giving a sailor his paycheck was easy?

  * * * *

  Instead of losing her temper, which she could easily do slung over Damon’s shoulder, Sloane tapped on the hard muscle roping down his back. “Lieutenant, please let me down. This position is getting a little hard to bear on the stomach.”

  Although his stride was deliberate and didn’t show any sign of tiring after two hours, she needed to get off his broad shoulder. Never mind the fact he balanced her with a callused palm positioned on her bare ass, causing the wrong type of friction for the situation they were in.

  “Going to behave yourself?” he asked, slowing his gait.

  Calmly, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disrespect my part in this or talk to me as if I’m three-years-old.”

  Curling his hands around her hips and a little heave, her feet touched the ground and she did a one-step stagger to regain her balance. The other couples continued to follow the narrow animal trail through the tinder dry forest in a westerly direction ahead of them. Sweat covered Damon’s handsome features and Sloane was certain she wouldn’t win any beauty pageants with zero makeup and perspiration coating her own body beneath the heavy camo jacket.

  Damon deliberated her statement while his brilliant eyes seared every bit of exposed skin on her legs. “I do respect your thoughts, but this has turned into a mission, not an exercise which means the balance of decision-making falls on me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s both. And if you take command and hustle me out of this exercise, I can’t help you.”

  Damon’s head bowed and he peered at her from beneath a swath of blond hair covering his forehead. “You’re the daughter of a legendary SEAL. I’m sure you know more than most, but you don’t have the experience. You’re young, Sloane. You push paper all day.” He put his hand in the air as if to stop her from interrupting. “I know that might sound insulting to you. It’s not meant to be. It’s fact.”

  “I’m not arguing about your years of service or my lack of field training. I’m saying there’s more at stake here than whether I get a bruise or a sprained ankle.”

  “Women in combat.”

  “Yes. The General can use this exercise to damage the lifted ban on women in combat. He’s targeting the Special Forces.”

  Damon’s tongue slid over the bottom row of his teeth and he inhaled a deep breath. “I might have reservations as well.”

  “I understand that too, but you can’t deny that the Marines are successful. They trained their female ranks to the same degree as the men.”

  “They’re not SEALs.”

  “No, but their Special Recon is top shelf.”

  The two other couples double-backed when they noticed she and Damon had stopped for a rest. Randeen clued into the conversation quickly when they were within hearing.

  “Whether you want to accept this or not, Sloane, the Lieutenant probably views the issue like the rest of us. We’re not worried about betraying our wives or girlfriends by working in close quarters situations, but our missions can be hard
as hell.”

  “They are,” Sloane agreed with confidence. “But Sally Homemaker wouldn’t volunteer to be a SEAL. We don’t all fit one mold and I would hope only those dedicated and worthy will make the cut, but they should be allowed to try.”

  Winston piped up. “This political convo should be enjoyed over drinks—back in San Diego. Let’s keep moving.”

  “And fully dressed,” Katy added.

  Sloane pinched her camo jacket at the waist, far too large for her, and yanked it taut. “Wonder if this would go good with moss green pumps?”

  The girls laughed, appreciating the absurdity of their fashion situation.

  With her temper in check, Sloane paused to listen to the forest. The small insects buzzing and a chirp from a bird hiding in the branch of a pine tree settled her nerves. She needed to convince Damon that removing them from this exercise would serve no purpose. “The General wants us to fail. We will fail if we leave. There has to be another way.”

  Anger simmered in Damon’s expression. “Rape is not an exercise, Seaman Austen.”

  She sighed. “No, it’s not, but we need to prove to the General that no matter what he does, we won’t break.”

  “This is not a debate. I will not risk your safety over politics.”

  Randeen and Winston nodded in agreement.

  “We’re past the point of no return. The Lieutenant responded with deadly force,” Randeen offered. “Now it’s about survival and evasion from the General’s team.”

  Katy groaned with disgust. “So we’ve switched from an exercise to S.E.R.E training.”

  A crack of a twig turned all three SEALs’ heads in the direction where it had come. Sloane could only see Damon’s eyes, but they scanned the forest with a distinct pattern to cover the area.

  Sloane shrugged at the other girls. When no one jumped out of the crooked pines, she said, “Nothing about our predicament resembles training. Lieutenant Stone is correct. This is a mission, which means I think we should split up.”

  “We stay together,” came the Lieutenant’s harsh response.

  “I’m suggesting we separate so if we are being tracked or there’s a search party up ahead, we won’t all be caught at the same time.”

  Katy hadn’t said much during their breather, her energy drained with no food or water for a day. A willowy figure and little reserve to draw from, she leaned against Winston not to be close, but because she needed the support. She gazed up at him, a SEAL with plenty of muscle to help the woman he didn’t mind at his side. “I don’t want to separate either.”

  Winston chewed on the left side of his cheek, considering her request. Sloane knew SEALs didn’t just follow the ranking officer blindly. All of them offered options. Presented them. The Lieutenant was still in charge and would make the final decision, but the theory that three heads were better than one broadened the possibilities.

  From all the stories her father told over the years, the ones he could share, Sloane knew he’d tramped through jungles and deserts many times on his own. “Then why don’t you four stay together. Lieutenant Stone and I will continue in a northerly direction for a few miles before turning east for the highway.”

  Damon’s gaze slid to each man, deliberating.

  Winston nodded and so did Randeen. Damon leaned over to look her in the eyes. “We’re leaving this forest. Our mission is to extract you, Eliza and Katy. Understood?”

  A lopsided grin lifted one side of her mouth. “Clearly, Lieutenant.”

  “See you back at Breakers for a cold one,” Winston said, and led the way with his arm wrapped around Eliza’s shoulders and Randeen a few steps behind, gripping the second rifle Damon had carried since last night.

  “Men!” Damon called. Both men stopped and turned. “Don’t hesitate. I don’t know what the outcome of all of this will be, but the General isn’t going to stop now.”

  The seriousness of Damon’s tone relayed the message: kill or be killed.

  They both gave a two finger salute and carried on down the trail.

  Looking into the sky, shielding her eyes, she said, “It’s got to be around two o’clock.”

  Damon’s eyes glittered a tropical blue. “Your father taught you a lot, didn’t he?”

  She laughed. “Actually, it’s Mom who taught me to read Mother Nature.” Damon headed north and she walked beside him, picking her way to avoid as many sharp sticks in her bare feet as possible. “We camped every summer. Mom wanted us to see British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes Dad was with us. Sometimes not. But we spent our school vacations in the great outdoors.”

  “Do you spend a lot of time with your mom’s family in Canada?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “She doesn’t have any. Uncle Greg is the closest I have.”

  “Captain LaPierre? I saw him at your parents’ BBQ. I didn’t realize he’s your uncle. We didn’t talk, but I heard he’s about to retire.”

  She nodded. “He’s not my real uncle. Well—” She paused. “He’s my Godfather. It’s a long story.”

  Damon continually scanned their surroundings. “We’ve got time.”

  That, they did. A few more miles of picking their way northward and then maybe five miles east to the highway. “Why do you want to know about my family?”

  He stepped over a tree laying across the trail and offered her a hand. Sloane accepted and avoided putting a foot on the trunk. The wood had disintegrated with the bite of insects and the harsh extremes of heat and cold. “Because I want to know you.”

  Most gals would probably flutter their eyes at his comment. She shrugged her indifference. “My mom was married to a man named Daniel LaPierre. Uncle Greg’s brother.”

  “So he is your uncle, in a way.”

  “In a way. Daniel stabbed my mom twelve times in the back during a PTSD episode, nearly killing her.”

  Damon’s eyes widened with shock.

  They’d reached a small clearing and she looked across the treetops toward the highway. From this altitude, she saw where they were heading. At least the next portion of their trek would be downhill. She unzipped the camo jacket and flapped the cloth, her body slick with sweat. He’d already seen her naked, no point in being bashful if he caught a glimpse.

  “During their ten years of marriage, Daniel abused my mom. Broke her bones. Beat her up. Like I said, it’s a long story, but Uncle Greg and my mom are close. Basically like brother and sister.”

  “Sounds like your mom was lucky to survive.”

  Sloane nodded. “Mom and Dad both say they were lucky to find each other. How did your parents meet?”

  Damon grinned, then looked out over the landscape. “My mom owned a coffee bar. Her business partner was a baker. Together, they scraped up enough money to open a store on Orange Street. Dad was a Marine, and he hated to cook. He’d drop by every morning whenever he was stateside. Eventually, he got up enough nerve to ask her out for dinner. Thing was, all the single guys were doing the same. Mom was a good looking woman.”

  “Obviously.” When his brows quirked together, she added, “You’re extremely handsome. Just stating a fact. Not intimating anything else, Lieutenant.”

  Damon didn’t seem to know how to respond. Instead, he pointed down the mountainside. “We’ll head for that town. Find a phone and call in support.”

  Sloane’s heart raced not because she could see civilization, but because she wasn’t sure what would happen to Damon for killing that soldier. Even though the General was responsible for ordering his men to rape them, a hearing of ranking officials would say Damon had a choice. She’d make sure the authorities understood it was a do or die situation.

  “Sloane.”

  She turned to face him and he swallowed thickly, reached with both hands and closed the jacket to hide her nakedness.

  “Sorry.” She zipped the jacket closed.

  He chuckled nervously. “We’re not going to make the town before nightfall. There’s a building about a mile down the slope. See i
t?”

  She already had and nodded.

  “We’ll make our way there. Probably an equipment shed, but we can rest for the night.”

  “I want to keep going. The other couples are trapped. We need to free them.”

  She wasn’t going to argue about a pit stop to catch a breather. Her feet ached and she was thirsty as hell. With any luck, they’d find water. Hungry and tired, taking cover for the night sounded good, but the clock was ticking.

  Thirty minutes later, they stood outside the shed, the walls weathered to a grey color. Junk lay in piles surrounding what Damon surmised to be an equipment shed. A heap of old vehicle tires lay piled in a jumbled mess a few feet behind the building. Rusted bits of equipment, tractor parts and wheel rims lay in another pile.

  Damon palmed a large rock and with one thwack broke the flimsy lock on the garage-like door. Leaving him to investigate the contents of the shed, she walked the perimeter of the twenty-by-twenty building. With a sigh of relief, she found a spigot on the right side, halfway down the wall and in the shade. Turning the knob, water gushed out. Thank God. Dropping her jacket on the ground, she cupped her hands and splashed water over her face, quenching her thirst at the same time. Lifting her filled palms, her skin shivered as the water spilled down her body.

  Cool and refreshing. Soon a puddle formed around her bare feet. The sting only lasted for a second or two, but the chill was worth the discomfort.

  “I found—” Damon stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “Jesus woman, how much restraint do you think I have?”

  Her mouth gaped. “I’m hot as hell, Damon. Give me a break.” She splashed more water over her shoulders and loved the refreshing drizzle between her breasts. His gaze hooked onto the droplets and watched them roll over her nipples. She scoffed. “It’s not like you haven’t seen a naked woman before. I’m sure you can handle it.”

  “Naked, yes. But…” He set his gaze on the bush line. “Please, put the jacket back on.”

  “Nope.” Sloane picked up the jacket and shook it out. “Don’t like it, don’t stare.”