Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Who the hell is texting me now?” Frowning, Rick reached into his pocket.

  “Your parents?” Chris suggested. “This shit is probably all over the news.”

  “No. Mom and Dad are on a cruise. I couldn’t call them even if I wanted to—which I don’t. Not until I have something concrete to report.”

  Jon hoped the definitive news Rick was waiting to report would be the safe rescue of all the hostages, Darci and Ali included.

  Rick glanced down at his cell and his eyes opened wide. “Holy shit. It’s not her number, but it’s from Darci. Listen to this. One gunman. Speaking Pashto on satellite phone. Suicide vest, one automatic weapon. Four hostages in vault.”

  Jon moved closer to listen as Rick read the contents of the text aloud.

  Suicide vest. Pashto. Satellite phone. This was no ordinary bank robbery. Men interested in getting away with bags of cash didn’t strap bombs to themselves.

  Jon let out a long low whistle. “Judging by that evidence it sounds like a possible terrorist to me.”

  A smile spread across Chris’s face. “I reckon it does, boys.”

  Zane grinned. “Seems to me that would put this situation right smack in our jurisdiction, no?”

  “I do believe it might.” Jon already had his phone out as he glanced at Chris. “I’m calling your brother on base.”

  Chris let out a short laugh. “If anyone can convince the command to do what we want them to, it’ll be him.”

  Brody, Tom and Grant had stayed at the base to take care of all the work that needed doing upon the return from the Ethiopia mission. The shit that the rest of the team had bailed on to go be with Rick. Brody could try and rally support from command.

  “SITREP?” Brody answered the phone on the first ring, not bothering with hello.

  “Oh, I got one hell of a situation report for ya.” Jon relayed what they’d learned. He had to pull the phone away from his head as Brody whooped in his ear, before he disconnected to go talk to command.

  Yeah, they were celebrating because this new information meant they might be able to do something about the situation, but it wasn’t exactly good news.

  What they had was a possible radical Muslim extremist armed and wearing a suicide vest, taking orders from God only knew who by phone while locked inside a building with four innocents. They had to move fast before whoever was on the other end of that phone pushed the detonator on this jihad.

  This revelation changed the situation drastically. The police hostage negotiator wasn’t working with some disgruntled customer pissed about mortgage rates or a foreclosure. There was no hope of talking this guy into giving himself up. He was prepared to die for whatever his cause was.

  He hadn’t responded to them yelling at him for hours. There was no hope of negotiations. If the terrorists had wanted to make demands, they would have done so already, and they would have sent an English-speaking hostage-taker.

  Nope. This situation called for quick, precise action. Exactly what Jon’s crew trained for.

  Now, all they needed to do was convince someone with some authority of that.

  “Do I tell the commander on the scene about this or wait for word? You’re active duty. This is your call.” Rick glanced from Jon to Zane.

  Jon answered first. “I say we wait for Brody to call back.”

  “Agreed. We keep this info under our hats until command gets back to us.” Zane let out a snort. “Let’s hope some hero doesn’t take a shot and blow the vest in the meantime.”

  “All right, so we wait for word to come down. If it’s a negative, then we’ll move on to other options.” What other options that might be, Jon had no clue. He eyed Rick. “That okay with you?”

  “Yeah.” Rick drew in a deep breath. “I hope for once command decides things sooner rather than later.”

  In a clear case of be-careful-what-you-wish-for, the cell in Jon’s hand buzzed and Brody’s name came up. A decision that fast might not be good news. When the military took action, they generally thought about it for far too long first.

  Crap. Hoping he was wrong, Jon answered, “Yeah?”

  “No go.” The anger was clear in Brody’s tone. “They say given the location has already been cleared and the chance of outside casualties minimized, and the small number of hostages inside—none of whom are high profile—the tactical teams currently on site are sufficient.”

  “Fucking bastards.” Jon breathed the curse to himself, but of course Rick heard and understood what it meant.

  Wearing an expression of dazed resolve, Rick let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  Chris moved to Rick and laid a hand on his shoulder. “She said they’re in the vault. That’s the best place to be if it detonates.”

  Eyes still on the building, Rick shook his head. “Not if it explodes inside the vault with them.”

  What could Jon say to that? Rick was right. There wouldn’t even be enough pieces to bury if that happened. He swallowed hard as regret filled him faster than he could deal with it.

  Why the hell had he denied himself getting to know Ali better? He could have kept it casual while he was in Jalalabad. Just emails, maybe the occasional phone call or video call.

  And on New Year’s Eve he should have scooped her up and made love to her until the sun came up. Then spent the morning with her doing it all over again . . . Until he got recalled for the hijacking. Just as he’d gotten called in early to deploy the day he’d met her in July. His reasoning for not getting serious with her crept back through the regret.

  There had to be a balance between work and personal life. Thom and his ex-wife obviously hadn’t found it. Had Grant? He seemed happy, but he was still kind of a newlywed, so that had yet to be proven.

  If there was a way to make it work, Jon wouldn’t mind exploring it with Ali.

  Now it might be too late.

  “Fuck. What’s going on?” Zane’s question brought Jon’s attention back to the situation.

  A civilian dressed in Muslim garb was being brought through the police lines.

  “That’s the guy who works in the twenty-four hour market on the corner,” Rick answered.

  “What the fuck are they doing?” Jon frowned as they handed him the megaphone. “Making him the interpreter?”

  Chris watched the action. “Someone must have called and told the police the hostage-taker wasn’t speaking English.”

  Someone probably being the very command who’d refused to let Jon’s unit—or hell, any unit available from Dam Neck or even Little Creek—step in.

  “That’s crazy. He could be saying anything to the gunman, and they won’t know.” Rick’s panic visibly rose. “Hell, he could be an accomplice.”

  It was true. Jon knew a few words and phrases but not enough to interpret the fast amplified babble now spewing from the megaphone.

  “Shh. Let me listen.” Zane was the most proficient in the language. “They know who you are. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

  “What happened to stalling? Asking for his demands? Calming him down? Trying to convince him to release the hostages?” Tangling his hands in his hair as if he was ready to tear it out, Rick looked ready to crawl out of his skin.

  Jon had to fight the urge to rip the megaphone from the hands of the ad hoc interpreter who was fouling everything up.

  “We got more worries, boys.” Chris tipped his chin towards the sidewalk. “They’re moving in with an assault team.”

  Off to the side of the entrance, out of view of the bank windows, well armed black-clad men were stacking up.

  Before Jon could react, the point man blew out the bank’s front glass and the S.W.A.T. team rushed forward. The sound of automatic weapon fire was fast obliterated by a blast that rocked the building.

  Debris both large and small reached where they stood all the way across the street.

  As police and civilians alike ducked for cover, Rick took off toward the explosion, which m
eant Jon, Zane and Chris were right behind him.

  In the post-blast confusion, it took the guys in charge a few seconds to notice them running in. Then they were on the megaphone calling them back.

  “His sister is inside!” Chris shouted over his shoulder as he ran side-by-side with Jon. It felt like it had on so many missions before Chris had retired—them running together, toward the danger rather than away from it.

  Zane glanced at the police as he moved toward the other side of the street. “If they fucking shoot at us, I’m gonna be really pissed.”

  It would be pretty ironic to survive all they had, only to be gunned down by the good guys in the street of their own town. The dust and smoke from the blast hung in the air and obscured Jon’s vision, but there was no sound of weapon fire.

  Jon came to a halt outside the building, wanting to see where the tactical team inside was before adrenaline and jumpy nerves had them shooting at anything or anyone who came upon them—if anyone was still alive and conscious after being so close to that blast.

  “Darci!” Rick did not stop like Jon did. He plowed through the smoke and rubble.

  “Fuck.” Jon hesitated barely a second before he followed Rick in.

  Rick seemed to know where he was going so Jon followed. He heard Zane and Chris shouting for medics. The assault team must be down, but still alive.

  “She said they were in the vault.” Rick skidded to a stop and reached for the vault’s massive door mechanism.

  Jon internalized the significance of the fact that the vault door was closed and intact. The bomb had obviously blown out in the lobby of the bank, which meant the hostages could be fine, having been shielded from the impact of the blast.

  Rick yanked on the handle and the door swung open. In seconds, Darci and Ali spilled out. There were two men inside as well, but Jon couldn’t drag his eyes off Ali. The sheer relief at the sight of her nearly took him off his feet.

  “Oh my God.” Rick enveloped Darci in a hug. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jon took a step forward to where Ali stood, shell-shocked, teary-eyed, and the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head but didn’t speak. She was shaking so badly she was vibrating. He reached out and pulled her against him, wrapping both arms around her and squeezing tight. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “We closed the door.” The simple statement was muffled against his chest, but at least she was talking.

  He forced out a laugh. “I saw. Good job.” What he didn’t add was that it might have saved their lives.

  Ali glanced up at him. “We heard shots.” She was speaking much more loudly than she should be. Her ears would be ringing for a while as a result of the blast. “Tim closed the door just as we heard the bomb go off.”

  Jesus, they’d just gotten it shut in time. Jon pushed that thought out of his mind. What ifs didn’t matter now. She was safe.

  “I’m going to have to congratulate Tim. He’s a real hero.”

  Thank God for whoever this Tim guy was. Though deep down Jon felt a little jealousy rise up. He hated that a stranger had saved Ali because he wasn’t able to.

  No, that was wrong. He was able, but he hadn’t been allowed to. The anger rose again. Jon tamped it down. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. All this dust isn’t good for your lungs.”

  He dropped his hold on her but she continued clinging to him with both arms. That was fine with him. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he turned them toward the exit and the devastation. He shielded her face with one hand so she wouldn’t see the gruesome damage that blast she’d so narrowly escaped had wrought.

  “The EMTs are going to want to check you out.” He tried to get a look at her pupils to make sure they weren’t dilated, which would indicate a possible concussion, but her head remained pressed against his chest.

  “I’m fine.” Again, she nearly shouted the response, proving the vault hadn’t completely protected those inside from all effects of the blast.

  “Let them do it anyway. Okay?” He squeezed her shoulder tighter.

  “Then you’ll take me home?” Those big, soulful eyes he wouldn’t mind staring into for hours met his. After taking note that her pupils looked normal, Jon began to allow himself to stop worrying about her.

  He nodded. “Then I’ll take you home.”

  This time he had no intention of leaving.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  The cell phone vibrated in Jon’s pants pocket.

  He hopped off the sofa where he’d been watching some cartoon on the television with the volume turned all the way down and moved toward the open bedroom door. Ali was still motionless beneath the covers.

  Jon pulled the bedroom door closed before hitting the button to answer the call. “Hey, Rick. How’s Darci doing?”

  “Eh, she’ll be fine. I personally think she’s kind of excited to have a war story of her own after watching us have all the excitement for all these years.”

  Jon laughed. “Could be.”

  “Where are you now? Home?” Rick asked.

  He’d moved to the kitchen and was currently searching for sustenance. “Nah. I’m at Ali’s place. She’s still sleeping and I didn’t want to leave.”

  He didn’t want her waking up in a panic in an empty house. After the living nightmare she’d been through, there was a good chance she’d be haunted by bad dreams or wake up disoriented.

  “Yeah, Darci’s wiped too. Christ, Jon. I could have lost her. I still can’t wrap my head around that.”

  Neither could Jon, one reason why he’d tucked Ali into bed last night and held her until she’d fallen asleep. Then he’d stayed, watching her sleep for hours before dozing himself. This morning, as she slept on, he finally let himself leave the room.

  Rude though it might be to go through her kitchen to scavenge for food, he hadn’t eaten since before boarding the transport the day before and he was starving. He spotted a box of some kind of cereal he’d never eaten before and reached for it.

  Bacon and eggs would have been his preference, but he didn’t want to go overboard while helping himself uninvited. Figuring cold cereal would have to do, he poured a bowl full and splashed in milk from the carton in the fridge.

  Jon quietly opened drawers until he found a spoon. He dug in . . . and wrinkled his nose when it tasted like he was chewing on hay. Something that was that bad had to be healthy, so he figured at least he wouldn’t starve until he got something decent to eat.

  “You been watching the news?” Rick asked.

  “No. I’ve been avoiding it. It’d only piss me off more.”

  Rick snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, no kidding. Two of the assault team are in critical condition.

  Jon shook his head. “They’re lucky they’re not dead, the way they went in there like that, guns blazing. Christ . . .”

  “I know.” Rick’s silence after those two solemnly spoken words told Jon they were both thinking the same—all the survivors were lucky to be alive.

  The only casualty had been the hostage-taker, and he’d taken with him the reason why he’d been there.

  Jon’s team, well-trained specifically in hostage rescue missions, would have done things so differently. Knowing the hostage-taker was talking to someone on the phone, they could have put men on the roof with listening devices to monitor what was being said. Once they’d been privy to his goals, his plans, and his timeline, they could have decided the next course of action. They might have been able to take him out without the vest exploding. Hell, they might have even been able to take him alive. Gotten that all important information of who was behind this and if there were more events like it planned.

  Now, all they had was a dead hostage-taker, a destroyed building, a critically injured S.W.A.T. team, four traumatized civilians, and no answers. Not to mention a juicy story for the media to speculate on and manipulate to their liking.

  “God, I’m ti
red.” Jon let out a sigh.

  “So go lie down.”

  “No, I don’t mean I need to sleep.” Even though he did. “I mean I’m tired of the bullshit. We should have been sent in there. If not us, then one of the other teams.”

  “I know. Preaching to the choir, dude. But there’s nothing any of us can do about it.”

  “Isn’t there?” The solution came to Jon like a light being turned on overhead.

  “What are you talking about? As long as you’re under their command, you follow their rules.”

  “Exactly.” Jon nodded, his pulse racing as an idea formed. “I don’t want to leave while she’s sleeping but after Ali is awake, I want to call a meeting.”

  “What kind of meeting?” Rick asked.

  “A team meeting.” Jon smiled as he said it, liking this idea more and more.

  “Uh, I’m not on the team anymore. Remember?”

  Jon shook his head. “For this, that won’t matter. How about we all plan to meet today, noon, at the bar. I’ll contact the rest of the guys.”

  “All right. Call me intrigued. I’ll be there.”

  “You’d better be there. I’m gonna text the guys, and then go check on Ali. See you later.”

  “Later.”

  Jon disconnected that call and then wrote a single group text to Brody, Chris, Zane, Thom and Grant.

  I need to talk. Can you all meet at the bar at noon?

  He hit send and then powered through the remainder of the cereal. While he worked to chew through each fibrous mouthful, the responses came back. He had to hand it to the guys, not one asked why and not one said no.

  These men always had his back. He hoped they’d agree to continue to do so after he told them his idea.

  Finally finished with the torturous breakfast, he rinsed the bowl and spoon he’d used and stuck them in the dishwasher. Satisfied he’d left the kitchen as clean as he found it, he crept back to Ali’s bedroom door and pushed it open just a crack.

  “I’m awake.”