Trapped (Delos Series Book 7)

by Lindsay McKenna

  Ali didn’t realize how unsafe she’d felt until Ram’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders. He’d not used his strength—which was impressive—to bully her, or hold her against her will. No, he’d lightly placed his arms around her and then waited, letting her decide whether she wanted to remain in his embrace.

  His actions were exploding all of her anxiety over meeting him again, and she saw that he wasn’t the same man she remembered. Now, she pointedly studied him, searching his eyes, digging for something that would tell her this was only momentary.

  But Ram was different. He stood unmoving, casual, and relaxed, holding her gaze with nothing but compassion radiating from his sea-green eyes. Ali could feel his male heat pouring from him, and she welcomed it. Damn! She had been so icy inside with worry for Cara. Now, she was warmed by his nearness in the sweetest, most unexpected of ways.

  As she searched his face, she saw no lust, no expectations, no desire. Just compassion. That jolted her because Ram had rarely shown sympathy to anyone. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten that mangy Afghan puppy, Mazzie, that he’d saved by tenderly caring for it after it had broken bones in its paw. His gentle handling of the wounded animal was one of the few times he’d revealed a soft spot under his tough, hard-as-nails mask. He was also wonderful with the children of the Afghan villages, always carrying hard, wrapped candy in his pockets for them.

  That puppy and the children had truly brought out his gentle side, she supposed, not really believing until that particular moment that he had one at all. He was so damned tied up within himself that even his team found it hard to connect with him. Ram did his job as a SEAL and did it well, but none of them tried to forge a deeper connection with him. The team did solidly connect while out on a mission, but there were no warm, fuzzy feelings shared with Ram when back at J-bad. He was the outsider and seemed to want it that way.

  When they returned to base, nobody teased Ram the way they did each other. It now occurred to her that he must have felt lonely with no one to talk to. At the time, she didn’t think he cared. But now she wondered if she’d missed some signals.

  In fact, Ali often wondered why Chief Lockwood had assigned Ram to her for their previous missions. After all, she was the exact opposite of him in every conceivable way. Over the deployments with his team, she’d learned to care for the local Afghan villagers. As they all got to know each other, their children loved her, raced toward her through the opened gates of the village when they saw the team coming, arms open, huge smiles lighting their faces. And always, Ali carried candy in her pockets, knowing they would ask her for some, and that she would dutifully place one in every outstretched hand.

  Ali remembered one time, at one of the villages that some of the boys were brutish and struck the little girls, pushing them back so they could get to the candy first. Ram had quickly waded into them, seething. He spoke Pashto well enough, and he seemed like a storm rolling through that crowd of boys surrounding the girls. He made the boys back off and sit down. Then, his expression softening, he gently called the frightened little girls forward for their treats. He made sure each little girl got two pieces of candy, not one. And then he had them sit off to one side to eat while he ordered one boy at a time to stand beside the little girls. They only received one piece of candy. Then, Ram made the boys sit opposite the girls as they ate their second piece. He was a fierce protector of those girls, breathing hard, hands on his hips, fire in his narrowed green eyes as he glared at the chastened boys.

  Ram knew that the boys had been taught to subjugate the little girls, but he would have none of it Ali was to discover—funny how she remembered that just now.

  “I—uh . . . ” she muttered, embarrassed, taking another step away from him. Ram released her, his arms going to his sides. Ali wasn’t about to tell him she’d been wounded in the arm. That was her secret. She wore a long-sleeved blouse to hide the dressing around it.

  “It’s okay,” he frowned. “You’re under a lot of stress with Cara being taken hostage. I’m really sorry it happened, Ali. Come on, let’s get down to the baggage claim. We have a briefing at 0900 this morning.” Hesitating, he asked, “Are you up to briefing with us?”

  Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Yes, of course. I’ll be fine.” She wanted to thank him, but his brusqueness stopped her. Ram seemed just as perplexed over their embrace as she was. Dizzied by his nearness, how strong and capable he felt with his arms around her for those precious moments, Ali knew she was not in a good space emotionally, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth and say a word. She had to be on top of this situation in order to rescue Cara. Whatever she felt would have to be stuffed down, at least until this was all over.

  *

  Ram and Ali sat in the briefing room at the end of the table joined by all the mission specialists who were going with them. On the huge wall-sized screen was a PowerPoint presentation and a map of the drug lord’s fortress. Fascinated, Ram watched her change like the chameleon he’d always considered her to be. Now, she was all business with the four other men on their team as she briefed them.

  Wyatt Lockwood sat in on the mission along with two other ex-SEALs who were familiar with Sonora. He always pooled experts from his employees by places where they’d worked, so that the teams could get the deepest, most valuable info for each mission. And this one was no exception. What was important was Ali’s knowledge of Azarola’s fortress, especially the entrance and egress points. Just that knowledge alone could mean life or death for the hostages, as well as for themselves, when they tried to free them. Ali had provided priceless intel and Ram’s heart glowed with pride over her skills as a combatant.

  No one had known that she had discovered a hidden tunnel on the east side of the fortress where the jungle abutted against the ten-foot wall that surrounded the dwellings inside it. She’d spotted two of Azarola’s soldiers a month earlier through her binoculars. They were walking about a tenth of a mile from the entrance, and suddenly, they were gone. They must have ducked into something, but she couldn’t tell what it was because she was hiding high up in her tall pine tree. Wherever they’d disappeared to, the jungle had effectively hidden them from her sight.

  That night, she followed the GPS coordinates she’d taken where they’d disappeared into the jungle, and about ten minutes later, she spotted them back inside the fortress, with no idea of how they’d gained entrance. She showed the team still photos of the two gates to the fortress. Both had been closed and never opened, so the men couldn’t have gotten inside through one of them. That was when Ali realized there had to be another entrance.

  Snooping quietly through the jungle, Ali had found the closed door that led straight into the grounds of the fortress, the entrance/exit behind a large garage where vehicles were repaired.

  She’d worn camouflage paint over her face, neck, and hands and skulked around at three a.m., getting the layout of the exterior within the walls. She’d also timed the sentries on duty, and moved only when she knew she was out of visual range.

  Ram watched admiringly as Ali’s hands moved the red laser pointer to underscore her briefing. The four men were all ex-SEALs like himself. They came from various teams, but they were Sonora and Mexico specialists who had spent actual time there. Further, they all spoke Spanish. One, Dave Barnett, spoke German as well, and would be an invaluable resource once they reached the three German hostages inside the fortress with Cara. Wyatt had chosen the best team he could assemble, and each member’s skills complemented the others.

  Ram saw no distrust of Ali from the faces of his teammates. Instead, they listened intently, typing notes on their Toughbook laptops, asking good follow-up questions. They were clearly satisfied with Ali’s thorough answers. She had left nothing to chance.

  When the briefing was over, Ram introduced her to the members of the team. She stood relaxed at his side, and nodded as he brought each one forward and shook each ex-SEAL’s hand. He knew how stressed she was and how well she hid it, keeping her game face
on.

  Ram knew each of the men and had worked closely with Wyatt on bringing such a highly specialized team together. Fortunately, because Artemis was funded by the billionaire owners of Delos Charities, Wyatt Lockwood could afford to hire the best and pay them what they were worth. Each security contractor hired by Artemis was making a quarter-of-a-million dollars a year; the norm for a security ex-SEAL’s salary was usually around a hundred-thousand dollars a year. Artemis demanded the best and got it. In return, they didn’t have a problem paying the highest salaries in the security industry worldwide.

  Ram was glad because this mission was a tough one. Lockwood said they had a fifty-four percent chance of carrying it off. That was damn near “chance” odds and Ram didn’t like it for a lot of reasons. Then, when he found out Aliyana was going to be on the team, his emotions got involved, much to his chagrin. As always, he wanted to shield her, not have her in the line of fire. He once mentioned it to Wyatt, though he knew that Lockwood didn’t believe Ali would accept anyone else’s protection.

  Laughing, Wyatt just gave him that Texas cowboy grin of his, slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Torres, you’re dealing with a wild filly. You’ll never tame her with that attitude. Just let her run free and then she’ll come to you when she’s ready, on her own terms.”

  Ram had never spoken to anyone—not even Wyatt—about his yearning for peace. He certainly wouldn’t suggest that he wanted a deeper relationship with Aliyana. He was sure Lockwood would have laughed his ass off, shaken his head, and pronounced him “loco.” Ram was sure he was, too, for such pie-in-the-sky idealism. Now, having a more peaceful relationship Aliyana didn’t seem like the pie-in-the-sky dream he’d cherished for so long.

  Standing nearby, Ram listened without comment as each man came forward. Tyler Hutton was all smiles as he shook Ali’s hand. “Nice to see you again. Just like old times back in Afghanistan, isn’t it?” He gave her a quick “hello” hug.

  As Tyler stepped back and released her from their mutual hug, she said, “I’m so glad you’re going to be with us, Tyler. It’s a lot easier working with a buddy from combat days in the sandbox.” He had been a combat-medic SEAL in Afghanistan, and they had worked with Tyler’s team from time to time on joint missions. He was a known factor, and that gave her relief because he could be trusted out on ops if Cara or one of the other women had medical issues—Tyler would be there for them. She liked the sharp clarity in his light-blue eyes. And like all the men, his black hair was military short, his posture straight and proud.

  “I’m glad to be working with you and Ram again, Ali,” he said, soberly. “I’m sorry your sister is in this jam, but we’ll get her and the other ladies out of that mess.”

  Ali reached out, squeezing his hand. “It’s nice having you with us.”

  Randy Cross, married with two kids, was their drone operator. He would fly the Raven, a small drone the actual size of the bird it was named after, routinely used by SEALs on ops.

  Randy’s job was vital because the Raven would be outfitted with various camera lenses, including infrared ones, that could detect body heat. The camera lenses could be switched to penetrate the darkness, enabling them to identify their enemy and see their location and numbers.

  Randy was going to fly the Raven after he climbed into her hideout in that big pine tree. He’d release it eighty feet above the tree, giving him a perfect view into the fortress. He’d also be high enough up to avoid discovery.

  “Hey, I’m Randy Cross, Ms. Montero. I’m your drone driver,” he grinned widely, his white teeth gleaming as he thrust his hand forward to shake hers.

  “I love drone drivers,” Ali said, smiling up at the nearly six-foot-tall ex-SEAL with short red hair. “I think you’ll find my perch in the pine tree comfy compared to where you’re usually hidden during an op with a Raven.”

  Chortling, Randy released her hand. “I can hardly wait to see it. You do know your name precedes you in the best of ways? Your reputation is legend,” he said, cocking his head, his gray eyes warm with welcome.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cross.”

  “Shucks, call me Randy or Ran, as the guys in my team used to call me. I’ll answer to either. One thing you should know, though? I RUN toward a fight, not away from it.”

  Her smile grew and she chuckled with everyone surrounding them. “I like Ran. You look like a marathoner, lean and all legs.”

  “Lean and mean,” he agreed with a wide grin.

  Ram had seen every man she met melt under her spell. Ali had always been a quiet, steady kind of person and SEALs liked that type. In addition, she was beautiful, tall, and confident. He fully understood how everyone she met basked in her presence. Ali never flirted, however, remaining the consummate professional in such situations.

  Ali turned toward Ram. “Great choices for your team. Did you help pick them?”

  “Yes,” he nodded as he scooped up the mission packets off the table and handed her one. Each member of the team also received a tablet with the same intel and maps on it, along with a thumb drive they wore around their necks on a leather thong.

  The briefing was over. Now, it was time to get their equipment together and prepare to leave.

  “I’m really impressed, Torres.” Ali followed him out of the room after everyone else left. They moved toward the elevator down at the other end of the hall.

  Ram looked around him. The hall was empty for once, and he kept his voice low. “You okay with calling me Ram, now? I noticed you were okay with calling the other guys by their nicknames.” He saw sudden turmoil in her eyes and she looked away for a moment, considering his request.

  He suddenly realized that, during their years on Lockwood’s team, they never referred to one another unless it was with their last name only. It was unusual, since teammates always had nicknames. He began to feel sweat accumulate beneath his armpits. Had he been too bold with her since she’d allowed him to hold her briefly?

  Dammit, he was still like the proverbial bull in the china shop with her. He ached to have some kind of peaceful connection with Aliyana. He wanted to somehow break down old barriers . . .

  “We need to go to the armory and get you a weapons bag, fill it with what you want, plus get you a level-four ceramic plate Kevlar vest.”

  She gave him a quick look, relief in her eyes. That said it all. But Ram’s heart felt as if it had dropped down to the soles of his feet. He hadn’t realized how important his request was to him, much less to her. It served to put him on notice that he was unraveling emotionally in her presence. And that wasn’t good. He felt frustrated because no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it completely.

  “Yes, the armory would be great,” she said. “I need one of everything. My M4, which has a sawed off barrel for ease of use, is at the Mexican Marine company I work with.”

  “I understand. We don’t have time to customize one for you, but I know Joe, the armorer, has a lot of M4s and I’m sure we’ll find one with a short barrel that you’re comfortable handling.”

  He saw Ali’s face become calmer and was grateful for little things. At least now he had some idea of how she felt, which was better than nothing. Baby steps, he warned himself, not sure where he wanted their relationship to go. What little there was of it. Patience was the key.

  “If we have time to fly that Black Hawk to Captain José Gomez’s company, I could pick up my weapons bag,” she suggested.

  “No, we won’t have that kind of time,” he replied. “Sorry,” he quickly added, sliding a glance in her direction. He saw a momentary glimpse of surprise on Ali’s face, and realized that he’d never, ever, apologized to her when they worked together before.

  Her full lips softened. His body automatically did too. He tasted the keen edge of his mounting frustration, and he had no one to blame but himself.

  “That’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me, Torres.”

  He managed a slight grimace. “Maybe I’ve grown up a little,” he said lightly, not
wanting to get into a verbal sparring match with her. Not with this impending mission before them. Ram needed her complete cooperation on this one, especially since Cara was involved. She chewed her lip, then met his gaze for a second.

  “Maybe you have.”

  “You always said there was hope for the hopeless. Remember that?” he said, wanting to tease her just a tad. He’d never teased her before, but Ram was desperate to get some kind of smooth ground between them, not start another skirmish with Ali.

  She gave him a warm look—the first ever—and his heart swelled with powerful emotions that nearly overwhelmed him.

  “Yeah, I used to say that from time to time to you, didn’t I?”

  “I guess it was when we were with those Afghan kids. It was hard watching them deal with the shitty world around them.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I just can’t imagine growing up in that kind of environment.”

  Without thinking, Ram snorted and growled, “I sure as hell can.” And then, before he could take those emotional words back, he saw Ali’s eyes widen slightly as she slowed her pace and stared wonderingly up at him.

  She was surprised. No, stunned! Ram had rarely talked about his childhood with anyone. As she digested his unexpected words, her expression softened.

  “Is that why you went after those boys when they started beating on the little girls?”

  She remembered! Ali’s insights had always been accurate.

  “I can’t talk about it now,” he said abruptly, instantly regretting his tone. He’d felt Ali reaching out to him with a symbolic olive branch. And dammit, he’d blown it again with his defensiveness and gruffness.

  “Maybe some other time,” he stumbled. “Right now, we need to focus on getting Cara and those other women out of there.” Why was she staring at him like that? Her eyes were again filled with sympathy toward him, and that was a first for them both.