Protecting Olivia

by Riley Edwards

  Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Stoker Aces Production, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Special Forces: Operation Alpha remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Stoker Aces Production, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Protecting Olivia

  RED TEAM

  and

  SEAL of Protection

  Kindle World Crossover

  RILEY EDWARDS

  BEFORE YOU BEGIN

  Thank you for purchasing Protecting Olivia. I’m beyond thrilled to write in Susan Stoker’s Special Forces: Operation Alpha universe. I’ve been a fan of Susan’s for many years and have read every book she’s published (multiple times.) While I’ve tried my hardest to stay true to her original characters (because, hello, they are already awesome) I am not Susan, I wrote them as I, the reader, experienced them. I want fans of the SOP series to feel like they’re visiting old friends when they see, Tex, Wolf, Abe, and Caroline. I hope that I did her beloved characters justice. But please remember, I’ve taken some liberties.

  I hope you enjoy the world I’ve created for you as much as I loved writing it.

  Sign up for the Riley’s Rebels mailing list and stay up to date on releases, sales, and giveaways.

  http://eepurl.com/cBkqKn

  Dedication

  To Extortion 17

  The world lost 31 Heroes 06 Aug 2011. SOC SEAL John W. Faas was among the crew that died that day. Even in death, John continues to inspire all those who knew him and love him. He is not forgotten - never forgotten. His sacrifice and that of his family’s reminds us that freedom is never free.

  We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.

  Prologue

  Chapter one

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peak – REDEEMING Violet

  Prologue

  “Are you sure?” Timothy Clark asked Violet Myers one more time.

  “A hundred percent. The call logs initiated from the prison have been erased. I double checked,” Violet huffed.

  She wasn’t an idiot. Not by a long shot. She’d worked at the FBI’s BAU for six years before she’d gone to the CIA where her propensity for information gathering and behavior analysis was put to better use. That was why’d she’d been chosen. That and she was weak. Too bad for her she wasn’t smart enough to get herself out of her current situation.

  “Good,” Timothy spoke into the cellphone speaker in his hand before turning to me. “Everything is ready,” he unnecessarily told me, as if I couldn’t hear Violet over the speaker.

  “Outstanding. May I?” I motioned for him to hand me the phone.

  He easily obeyed handing me the phone. Timothy Clark was a fool and had no sense of self preservation. His usefulness had run out, and just like anything else that was no longer valuable, it was time to dispose of him. Setting the phone on the table careful not to disconnect the call, I pulled my Browning M1911 from the holster and raised it level with Timothy’s head.

  The shot rang out in the room, and I relished the ringing in my ears. It reminded me of my days in the Army. When I had sworn allegiance to Bolivia, until my county had turned her back on me. And I found someone who could appreciate my abilities. Why had I been trained to kill, if not to kill?

  “Oh God. What was that?” Violet asked.

  “Plans have changed, Ms. Meyers. You will be dealing with me directly from now on,” I informed her.

  “Where’s Timothy?” she asked.

  Stupid woman. Why did people always feel the need to ask questions when they already knew the answers?

  “Gone. I’ll be in touch soon.” Before she could inquire any further I disconnected and pocketed Timothy’s phone.

  “Clean this up,” I yelled to Juan. “Wrap him in plastic and shove him in the wall.” I laughed at the thought of the girl sitting in a room with a rotting corpse in the wall. “Drywall the rest of the wall and use the extra wallpaper to finish it off.”

  I chose this house because it was secluded and had been foreclosed on. The bank had turned the utilities on now that it had been placed on the market. It was perfect for what I needed. It looked like the previous owners had been in the middle of renovations. Three of the four walls had been wallpapered, but the forth had been stripped down to the studs. It could’ve been a beautiful home; too bad it wouldn’t be standing when I was done with it.

  “Carlo?” I yelled to one of my men. “Are you ready? It’s time to get the girl and bring her home.”

  Chapter one

  Leo

  Jesus H. Christ. I was going to kill my sister. She was always getting into some kind of crazy shit. She blamed her friends for the trouble they got themselves into, but I knew her ass was the ringleader. When Arabella crooked her finger, people ran – they always had. The older she became, the worse it got. Now at twenty-one, her ass was out of control.

  My ma needed to hurry up and marry her off so someone else could drag their ass out of bed at midnight to bail her out of jail. Tonight’s bond was for trespassing and destruction of property. Pretty tame night for Bella. Her brand-new Jeep Wrangler was in police impound covered in mud after she and the lame brain pack, or Giamope as Ma likes to call them, decided to go mudding on private property. Her little ass was lucky I knew the desk sergeant, and he processed her paperwork fast. Another five minutes and I would’ve left her there to spend the night. I was exhausted and just wanted to get into bed.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I ignored it without even pulling it out. I did not want to listen to Ma tell me how she named her only daughter Arabella because it meant answered prayers, and after two boys, Ma thought that her prayers had indeed been answered when she had finally had a girl. Only now, Ma believed she should’ve named Arabella the devil. She was not wrong in that assessment. I adored my little sister, but she was a menace. We did this little song and dance every time Arabella was arrested.

  The phone vibrated again, and against my better judgment, I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. Fuck me, Garrett in the office at two in the morning was worse than Ma calling me to complain about her choice of names.

  I slid my finger across the screen to unlock my phone and entered my security code.

  “Yo.”

  “Sorry to call in the middle of the night, but Tex called. He was poking around and came across some information. Looks like your case just broke wide open. Shit’s about to go nuclear. Meetup is at the barn house. I’m calling in Z,” Garrett rushed out.

  I liked Garrett. He was no-nonsense, straight to the point. He could bullshit with the best of them but knew when it was time to cut the shit and work. Now was one of those times.

  For the past three weeks, we’d been trying to track down Olivia Cox, the only daughter of Pamela Cox. Pam was the First Lady’s White House aide and best friend. This was not the type of operation that Z Corps would usually take. More
than that, this type of case was not usually assigned to the company’s best-trained operatives. The Red Team was typically reserved for high-priority Ops; top secret missions that required our unique skill set. A missing persons case shouldn’t have been assigned to us. But when the POTUS asked Zane for a favor, he couldn’t turn him down. I was beginning to think the spoiled twenty-five-year-old party girl went on a bender and was in Las Vegas living it up. But her mother was worried sick, and that meant the First Lady, Clarissa Anderson, was worried, too. If Mrs. Anderson was worried, the President would fix it so his wife would rest easy.

  Well shit, so much for sleep. I was so close my keys were already in the front door, yet I was so damn far away from my bed. “Copy that, I’ll be there in ten,” I responded.

  The line went dead, and I pocketed my phone, pulled my keys from the lock, and headed back to my truck.

  The drive through downtown Annapolis was easy this time of night. There was no traffic around the Capitol building or any midshipmen wandering the streets happy to be off the Naval Academy grounds, even if only for a few minutes of freedom. Once I was out of the narrow streets of downtown Annapolis, I gunned the engine, enjoying the loud rumble of my newly installed exhaust. I hoped like hell we’d be stateside long enough for me to enjoy a few road trips.

  Zane had a safe house located on the South River. It was a rundown barn on a five-acre lot. What made this particular barn unique was the basement. It was more of a fallout shelter than a basement, actually. It was fully kitted out with an armory, bunks, food, and water supply. We could easily hide someone there if necessary. We also had secure comms in and out of the bunker.

  I pulled up to the building noting Z and Garrett were already there. Z’s Rover and Garrett’s GSX R750 motorcycle were parked next to a black sedan and a Porsche Panamera both with Washington DC plates. Christ Almighty, it was never a good sign when someone from DC paid us a visit.

  I hurried and parked, anxious to find out why the hell it was so important to meet at two in the fucking morning. Yeah, I was tired and cranky. Making my way to the exterior door of the barn, I placed four fingers on the biometric scanner discretely placed under what looked to be a realtor’s lockbox and impatiently waited for it to accept my fingerprints. The lock slid open, allowing me access to the interior of a dusty old barn; it was complete with straw bales, horse stalls, and the earthy musk smell one would expect. I didn’t bother turning on the overhead light since I’d been here a hundred times and knew where the door was to the basement.

  I fought back a sneeze and entered my eight-digit code, not that it mattered if I made noise. Whoever was in the basement already knew I was on the premises. There were perimeter alarms that had alerted them to my presence the moment I drove onto the property.

  I opened the basement door, and my footsteps echoed as I rushed down the stairs and stopped at the final door. Placing my face inches away from the retinal scanner, I silently cursed Z. He was an over-the-top son-of-a-bitch when it came to the security. No one gained entrance to the inner sanctum of any company building uninvited.

  All eyes snapped in my direction when I walked in the room. Any thought I had of sleep in the near future was shot to hell.

  “Panther. Good to see you, son.” A brisk voice called out from the crowd of people.

  “Mr. President. Nice to see you as well, sir,” I replied.

  I quickly scanned the room, noting the President only had a two-man personal security detail, Gerald and Aaron, and no other secret service agents. He had a bad habit of sneaking off White House grounds, only taking his personal guards. I believe the last time the Secret Service agent in charge tried to talk to him about it, the President kindly reminded him of his years as a special operator and his time in the CIA. There might’ve been some expletives used on the President’s end telling the agent where he could shove an inanimate object if he didn’t like it. He was one tough old man.

  Peter Newton stood off to the side looking disheveled and out of place in his pressed blue jeans and polo shirt. I had never seen the Attorney General in anything other than high-dollar designer suits.

  It was still hard to believe that my boss, Zane, and Tom Anderson, the President of the United States, were close friends. I had known Zane a long time, and it wasn’t until recently I found out just how deep his ties were to the President.

  Our last mission was educational. Closely guarded secrets about a failed Russian op that resulted in the capture and torture of Jasmin Parker and Zane were brought to light. The torture Jasmin endured led to her losing her memory. I didn’t know if I felt relief I could finally stop lying to Jasmin about her past, or if I was pissed as hell that Zane and Lincoln had kept their own secrets. Not a single person on our team knew that Zane had a brother. We certainly didn’t know that Lincoln Parker, better known as Ghost, was that brother. We also didn’t know that the President was Jasmin’s uncle. One could say that the last month had been informative.

  “Leo. Glad you’re here,” Zane said from his place across the room.

  “Transport en route?” the President asked Gerald.

  “Yes, sir. ETA two minutes,” he answered.

  “Great, let’s go up,” the President instructed.

  Wordlessly the President’s detail went for the door, Garrett followed with two desert tan Blackhawk messenger bags over his shoulder. I knew he had no less than four laptops and a tablet shoved in those bags. He gave the words computer geek a whole new meaning.

  Zane trailed the President and the Attorney General, stopping at the door he turned to me. “You good?” he asked.

  “Five by five,” I answered. “Where are we going?”

  “Tex’s place.”

  “In Pennsylvania?” I inquired. I had never known Tex to invite anyone to his home.

  “Roger.”

  “Who called in Tex?” I asked.

  “He called us. He found something that requires a face-to-face. He requested the AG. Tom called and said he would be accompanying us.”

  “Well, hell. That cannot be good. Garrett said Tex had intel on the Cox case,” I informed him. “One more thing. How did Tom know the AG was coming in?”

  “Now that is the million-dollar question. I hate going in blind. Hopefully, Garrett will have something before we get to Pennsylvania. But if Tex wants a sit-down, shit has gone sideways. Everyone knows he prefers to conduct business via the dark web or phone. Hell, I’ve only met the guy once in person, and that was only because his man Wolf needed some intel from me. What I do know is the AG called us tonight and wanted a meeting, too.”

  “Did the AG say what about?” I asked.

  I had never met Tex in person either. He had assisted on a few of my ops in the past, but only to provide intel and that was done over a secure server. Zane made a good point; if he wanted to meet in person, something was really wrong.

  “Peter received an email tonight. He refused to forward the message and wanted Garrett to view it on his computer only. Garrett ran the email and found the location origin. Brace, brother. It’s gonna be a long night – the POTUS, the AG, and Tex.” Z stopped and shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  By the time we made our way back outside, the Eurocopter EC155 was touching down. Luckily for us, this was going to be a short flight. The EC only held eight normal-size men. Both Z and I were well over six foot, and Tom’s personal protection wasn't much smaller than us; it was going to be a tight fit.

  Garrett was the first to rush the helicopter, no doubt he wanted to climb aboard and start scouring the dark web for information. I, however, just wanted to get in and catch a quick nap before shit hit the fan.

  In under a minute everyone was aboard, and we were underway.

  Chapter Two

  Olivia

  Every inch of my body ached, muscles I didn’t even know I had screamed in protest when I tried to sit up. My head was pounding from lack of sleep and food. The overwhelming stench of rotting garbage and…somethi
ng else in the room made my stomach lurch, and I started to gag. It was hard to tell what the “something else” was with the amount of dried vomit that was now crusted in my hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I was allowed to take a shower. It had to have been days, but for all I knew, it could have been weeks.

  When I was first brought here, I was given a daily bath and a tray of food. After the guard had caught me trying to pick the lock on my handcuffs with a plastic fork, I was no longer allowed food, or a bath, or the luxury of looking outside. The windows were now plywooded over, preventing even the tiniest sliver of daylight into the room. I had no idea what time of day it was, or how many days had passed since the windows were covered.

  It had to have been past the morning hours if the guards were still sticking to their original schedule. There sitting next to me was a single bottle of water and V8 juice. That’s what I was supposed to live on, fucking vegetable juice and a small water.

  I opened my water and took the first tentative sip, waiting to see if my stomach would reject the liquid. I would only get one bottle, I knew better than to drink it all at once even if my dehydrated body begged me to.

  Yelling outside the door made me jump, and the tiniest bit of water splashed and hit me in the face. What I wouldn’t have given to dump the bottle over my head and rinse some of the grime off of my face and hair. But that wasn’t an option; the only water I would spare for cleanup was on my wrist. It was a waste now, I was sure of it. The angry red welts from the cuff rubbing had turned into open sores that were oozing pus. They were most definitely infected; it was pointless to continue to try and clean them. But I couldn’t stand the disgusting sight and needed to wash it anyway, even if it was in vain.

  The yelling continued, growing louder and louder. These fucking idiots screamed and fought with one another every day. They had to have been the worst kidnappers in the history of kidnapping. The idiots obviously knew that I was a nobody. Sure, my mother worked as a White House aide, but no one would risk their political career on an aide's kidnapped daughter. Not to mention the government didn’t pay ransom.