Code Name_War 0f Stones
Page 25
Katy’s fist pressed against her chest as if protecting her heart from detonating and Winston’s guts churned, unable to defend her.
“Looks like lunch is served,” the General said, as if calling his family to the table.
A soldier kicked Katy in the back of her leg and she dropped to her knees. She winced, landing on the rough ground and her delicate shoulders jerked with her stuttered breaths.
Scared of what was to come next, Winston couldn’t hold his tongue. “You fucking sadistic bastard. Enough. She proved herself.”
“But she must be thirsty,” the General chided.
The soldier picked up the twitching tail close to the severed end and squeezed. The head, unable to hold on, toppled to the ground, its jaw still jerking.
“Open, young lady,” the General ordered.
Katy’s terrified gaze swept to Winston.
“It’s not poisonous. Your will is stronger than his.” He spit out the words, not with reassurance, but nearly insane with anger. He shook as much as her with pent-up aggression. A warrior was all fight and rarely flight. What he needed was a weapon with a single bullet. The one he’d put between the General’s eyes.
The other couples present watched with disgust, no doubt wondering which of them would be next. Some women looked away. Others stared, like her friend Eliza, unable to unlock her gaze from the horror.
Katy squeezed her eyes shut and shook like a leaf.
“Open wide,” the General taunted.
When she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, the blood dripped from the body of the snake, splashing onto her face and dribbling onto her tongue.
“Swallow,” the General bellowed at her.
Katy’s fingers dug into the ground, cutting through the hard-packed soil.
When she didn’t comply, the General shouted at her again. “Swallow.”
She did. For a moment. And then she retched, throwing up what little food was in her system. A clumpy glob of blood and bile splattered onto the ground.
“Safe word.” The General loomed over her.
Winston swallowed heavily and shook his head. “Give it to him, Katy. Give him the word.”
A growl of rage built in her throat and vaulted from her mouth at the same time she flung a handful of dirt and sand in the General’s face hovering above her. He stumbled backwards, not expecting her aggression.
“Bitch.”
“Fuck you! Fuck you, you narcissistic psychopath.” She staggered to her feet as the General swept the sand from his face, blinking. His eyes watering. “This will end, and when it does, I will be there to watch them gas you to death!” She spit on the ground and swept her forearm across her mouth.
The General thrust his hand in the air. “Put them in the—”
The sound of vehicles cut off the General’s order. The soldier removed the weapon from the back of Winston’s skull, and he pushed himself to his feet. Katy ran to him and he clutched her in his arms. Everyone’s attention glued to the Jeeps. A pale hope that help had arrived lingered for only a few seconds.
There could only be one reason why a slow, evil smile grew on the General’s mouth, and it was confirmed when Lt. Stone and his partner exited the two military Jeeps that had come to a stop behind them.
Katy cried silently into Winston’s chest. Fuck. He’d been sure that his lieutenant would be the one to make it out. To get word to Coronado. Hope, what little he’d clung to, drained into the hot sand beneath his feet.
The soldiers muscled Lt. Stone and Sloane toward their group. This was going to get worse before it got better.
“Let us talk with our partners,” Winston yelled at General Northcott.
The General chuckled. “Too late for that, Winston. What I need just arrived.”
* * * *
Damon held his rage in check as he and Sloane were shunted toward the group of remaining couples. A soldier gripped his arm while two others made sure he didn’t fight his way to Sloane while they led her to a pole erected in the center of the compound. They tore the t-shirt from her body, ripped her pants from her legs and turned her to face the pole, then chained her wrists to an eyebolt screwed into the wood above her head.
The General stood on the sidelines, a brutal scowl on his face, before swaggering toward Damon, hate boiling in his eyes. “You killed my men, Stone,” he growled.
“And they earned their sentence. How many of my people did you kill? Nine? You murdered nine American men and women, and three civilians to prove a fucking point?”
“Someone had to step up and do the hard thing.” He punched his chest. “It’s more than a point.” Spittle sprayed from his mouth. “I don’t stand alone, and this exercise has the backing of the President of the United States!”
“Bullshit!” Damon fired back. “You honestly think the President would allow this type of torture? You’re insane.” He took a step toward the General, but the ends of three barrels bit into his back. “You’ll be doing hard time for this.”
The anger mellowed in the General’s beady eyes. “I don’t think so, Squid.”
“In this country we don’t order men to rape women to test bogus theories, but you did, didn’t you? Let Sloane go.”
“You know how to accomplish that.”
“I don’t give a shit about a goddamn word. No one bought into being terrorized for your twisted scheme. You’re running lone wolf on this. And when you fail, you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up on death row.” He paused. “That is, if I don’t kill you first.”
“My theories are based on fact. I won’t fail. I’m not about to let this country go down in flames because a bunch of bleeding hearts want fucking votes,” the General railed, losing control. He swung around. “Begin.”
Damon’s heart cinched into a tight ball. “Begin what?”
A man slid between the soldiers, and what he carried in his hand made Damon’s blood go cold. “Me, General. Untie her and put me up there.” He struggled against the Grunts restraining him.
“No, Lieutenant. She’s going to feel every lash until she gives up the word, and you’re going to watch. No more than five and she’ll be caving in, but you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Women can’t handle pain. They’re weak!”
“For the love of Almighty God, stop this. Stop this,” he yelled.
The man with the whip took a couple steps back from Sloane and raised his arm. The leather cut through the air, snapping against her naked body. Her long, brunette hair rained down her back, but it wouldn’t protect her.
Damon jerked at every strike. With each slice, a short cry of pain left Sloane’s throat. He closed his eyes, his body a tight coil ready to explode. Given one chance, he’d kill the General and end this.
“She’s tough,” the General muttered.
“She’s had enough,” Damon roared.
“She’s had enough when she says the word.”
Seven lashes. Eight. Nine.
The whip cut through the air.
Ten. Eleven.
“Jesus,” someone hissed from behind him.
Each slash on her skin erupted in a gruesome red welt. Blood trickled from some of the wounds, following the beautiful curves of her body. Drizzling down the backs of her legs and sprinkling the sand.
Every time the soldier raised the whip, it disemboweled Damon, thrashing his nerves to shreds.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
“Stop him!” Katy cried. “Please, stop this.”
They watched Sloane’s body quiver and lurch when the wicked end of the leather snapped and struck its target.
The General’s brows shot upward, his expression conveying his shock.
Each lash accompanied by a groan or a gasp from the men and women witnessing the barbaric act.
Twenty lashes.
Damon closed his eyes and his breath caught in his chest. Sloane’s legs gave out, and the iron chains cut into her wrists as she dangled from them. The soldier with the whip faltered.
No one said a word.
The SEALs watched, their expressions resembling etched stone while the women buried their faces in the men’s chests, not able or unwilling to watch any longer. But he saw it all and felt it all, and he was numbed by her bravery.
“Give your partner the word, Seaman, or this will continue until your skin is ripped from your back,” the General yelled.
When all the General got was silence, he jerked his head at the soldier to continue.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
“You’ll kill her,” Damon thundered, and the rage in his soul let go. Thrusting himself forward, the soldiers acted quickly and brought him to his knees with their boots and the butt end of their weapons.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four.
Blood trickled across the patchwork of welts. A morbid mosaic of torture.
“The word,” the General yelled.
Everything stilled, even the wind seemed to stop, wait, and listen.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Seaman…Austen…” Her head fell forward, pressed against the wood. Her shoulders convulsed and jerked with silent tears. “Daddy,” she cried out. “Oh God, Daddy, please…”
“Stop,” Damon roared, seeing the soldier draw his arm back. Her mind was fracturing.
The General threw up his hand and the soldier dropped his arm, the whip lying like a slithering snake on the ground.
Damon couldn’t control the rage eating through his mind and body. Tearing the General into bloody pieces wouldn’t begin to dissolve it.
The General took a position in front of him. “You’re coming apart SEAL. This is what the enemy does. They have zero compassion, and you all,” he said gazing at the men, “would fail in your duty in order to save a woman. They don’t belong in war. They don’t belong on the front line. They weaken you.”
Damon grit his teeth. Strained against the men pinning him down on the ground. Raising his head, he glared up at the General. “What…do…you…want?”
“There’s one more test,” the General said, looking far too assured of himself.
“What—test?” The soldiers backed off, and Damon rose to his feet, towering over the General.
One step, one move, and the General would be dead, but so would he and Sloane. Percentage of failure—too high.
“To prove whether I’m right or I’m wrong,” the General countered. “Are you willing?”
“And what is the outcome, either way?” Damon asked, his gaze glued to Sloane. She leaned against the pole, her dainty fingers gripping the chains that bound her wrist. Whatever it was, he’d do it.
The General smiled. “The exercise will be complete.”
Damon took a slow scan of the eight men standing behind him, waiting for his decision. He had to make the call not knowing what the test was, or even if the General would allow them to live afterward, providing they passed. In combat negotiations, you didn’t give power to the enemy. Damon and the other men weren’t giving anything away, the General already had it.
He nodded once, then his eyes honed in on Sloane.
She’d be scarred for life. Every time she looked in the mirror, she would hate him. Despise him for dragging her into this exercise.
As he gazed at her tortured body, his heart shattered. He’d failed the most important mission of his life. The daughter of a legend. The most important woman in his life. The woman he now knew he loved.
While the other couples were herded away, he stood his ground. He had no words to describe the void in his heart. Who would she be when they released her from her shackles? Every slash on her back his fault because he’d chosen her. He’d promised to bring her home safely. Place her in the arms of her father, but that wasn’t the truth. He wanted her in his arms. To see her every day, even when she bristled and gave him hell. He’d finally found the only woman whose fire lit his. He slammed his eyes closed but it did nothing to ease his regret.
Long ago, while one hundred and eighty men wrung the bell and walked away from fulfilling their dream of becoming a SEAL, he didn’t. Now, all his choices had been ripped away, but one.
Sloane was now his bell. She would survive, and he was going to ring out and give his life to make it so.
Chapter Twenty-four
“What did our daughter say?” Kayla’s fingernails dug into Thane’s arm deep enough to break skin.
Their family and friends waited, the Austen’s living room tense with unease as Thane shoved his cell into his pants pocket.
“Dad.” Adam growled with impatience. “Was that Sloane? Where is she?”
It had been a long time since the drums of war beat in Thane’s chest. Although the vibration of fear twining around his pounding pulse was a new addition. He clutched the cell in his pocket, crushing the protective metal case. Slowly, he turned a gaze on his wife. The woman who’d steered his life in the right direction. The only woman to give him a reason to live—until a nurse had put Adam first and then Sloane in his arms at the hospital.
“She’s alive.” He gripped Kayla’s shoulder, harder than he should have. She winced but refused to release her hold on him, demanding the truth with her eyes. “I’m going to bring her home, sweetheart.”
Taut lines of fear creased his wife’s brow. “Where is she, Thane?”
“Not far.”
Kayla’s breathing slowed, her body taut. “Is…is she hurt?”
He shook his head. His daughter’s message only long enough to tell him her location and that she was in danger before someone disconnected the call, but Kayla didn’t need to know that. If Sloane could yell like she had, then she still had breath to fight, and his daughter would fight. “You know Paulson’s wife. Call her. Find out where her husband is.”
Kayla knew better than to ask more questions. She usually did, never accepting the limit to what he could or should tell her, but she nodded and broke from his grasp, headed for the phone.
He surveyed the rest of the room. “I need your help,” he said, looking at the faces of his old squad.
“Dad, I’m coming with you.”
“Stand down, son. You’re staying here.”
Adam pushed his way from the back of the group and got right into his space. “You think you can actually stop me?”
Thane knew a time would come when his son challenged him. He thought it would have been during his teens, but now Adam was a grown man and a SEAL. The days of skateboards and first kisses long past.
He spoke quietly. “Son, if I’m not here, you have to be. For your mother. Do you understand?”
“The girls—”
“No. You—only you, will be able to deal with her if something goes wrong.”
Adam’s tropical blue eyes, filled with fire and the will to fight, told Thane his son understood but didn’t want to be left behind. It had been a very long time since Kayla had a PTSS episode. There would be no question if it came down to a choice between himself or his daughter’s life. He’d step into the line of fire so his daughter could survive. Either way, Adam would keep Kayla from slipping into a dark place.
Looking at Adam was like staring at a picture of himself forty years ago. So alike, yet so different. Given time, given enough missions, maybe he’d fall prey to the addiction where SpecWarOps pushed everything else that mattered aside. Yet, when he glimpsed Kels in the crowd of faces, he somehow doubted Adam would lose himself in warfare. His son might look like him, but he had his mother’s heart. One that couldn’t be broken, and gripped life by the throat and wouldn’t let go.
If Sloane was in trouble, Thane would not allow his son to walk straight into a trap Northcott may have set. Clenching his jaw, he shot a look at Greg LaPierre. A man who had once been his worst riva
l but had become his closest brother. There would be no chance in hell he could keep Greg from helping him find Sloane.
“Ghost.” Mace stepped up. “We don’t have a loadout room anymore, but—” He threw a glance toward Tinman, who nodded. “Depending on where we’re headed, I’ve probably got what we need at my place.”
The rest of Alpha Squad and Greg circled Thane. “She’s on Palomar Mountain.”
“Warner Springs?” Fox asked.
If she was, Sloane would have said so, but she hadn’t. She’d said Palomar. “Undetermined.”
Fox scrubbed his silver beard. The glasses perched on his nose gave him a studious look, but he was still the best damn tracker the SEALs ever had the honor of employing. “Admiral, there’s a lot of empty land out there. You think she’s at the S.E.R.E training facility?”
“I don’t think so, Fox. As I recall the cell service out there is spotty, but we’ll cover the territory, starting from the facility, unless I hear otherwise.”
“You going to tell them what’s going on?” Greg asked.
The rest of the team turned crunched brows of confusion toward Thane. “Debrief in the SEAL Cave.”
The women in the living room divided to let them pass. Adam kept in step with the men. Five years ago, Thane may have been able to order his son to stay put, but family always stretched the rules of engagement.
As they passed through the kitchen, he heard Kayla on the phone say, “Then can I have her cell number? This is very important.”
Exiting the patio doors, Mace followed him. Thane slowed his pace and asked Mace to call Stitch, and then aimed for the Cave.
Thane inhaled deeply when they were all secure inside. “We’ll wait for Stitch to come, but I can tell you now, I never believed anyone would sanction an exercise to reinstate the ban on women in combat.”
Fox snorted. “Are you kidding? You think that’s what’s going on?”
Thane nodded.
Sitting on the couch, Fox shook his head and propped his forearms on his thighs. “Ghost, if they took a vote, every fucking man in this room and on the teams would say that women definitely have a place in the forces, but who the hell would want to send the finer sex into the shitholes where we’ve been? I’m the last guy to be sexist. Christ, I’ve been under my wife’s thumb for the last thirty-five years. And I like it there. She’s no wallflower, couldn’t be to harness me, but she’s the last person I’d shove a weapon at and order to take out a tango.”