A.L.F.A. Instincts

by Milly Taiden

  Tumbel growled, and for a second, she blinked at his features. Fuck, he was close to losing his control. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, Candy—”

  “It’s Sergeant Major to you, Director,” she sneered, standing defiantly in front of him.

  “Fine,” he rumbled low and deep, curling his hands into fists at his sides, “Sergeant Major, I haven’t told my men about our discussion. And this whole mess is bogus. If we could just talk with Pommer, he will explain our special circumstance.”

  “Pommer has no say in this decision. I report directly to the president,” Candy retorted now slapping her hands on her hips.

  “That’s not what I mean.” Tumbel looked as frustrated as hell. She smiled. “Relax, Tumbel. I’ll do this gently.”

  A voice came over her shoulder. “Can we watch you do it gently?”

  “Day,” Tumbel snarled so roughly, her jaw almost dropped open. She couldn’t believe that sound came from him. It was so animalistic. “Go over there.” He pointed to the other side of the room.

  “Sergeant Major,” he continued in that low, churned-gravel tone that was starting to make her skin hot. She’d never been turned on by a man calling her “sergeant major” until now. “Let’s hold off until after the ceremony. Can we at least do that?”

  He was so cute when he was trying to sound composed, but she saw the lust in his eyes. She raised her hand, wanting to brush his bangs from his eyes. When she realized she was moving closer, she crossed her arms over her chest hoping to hide her silly intention. What happened to her go-to personality?

  Being a hard-nosed bitch around this guy was nearly impossible for her. What was up with him? She cleared her throat and tugged on her green uniform top. She could do this. She’d been in a lot worse circumstances and come through rather unscathed. It would be the same here.

  “I think we should do this beforehand, Tumbel.” She sounded like such a bitch in her own ears. A horny bitch wanting to jump every bone in this man’s body. God. She was disgusted with herself.

  A noise like firecrackers popping in the distance reached the room. Her mind told her instantly that it wasn’t explosives, but gunshots.

  CHAPTER 5

  Candy stood in her office with Tumbel’s three men. Her mean, angry side was ready to show them who was boss: She was. But the gunshots halted her. The men stiffened, looked at one another, and bolted for the door. Were they seriously going to run into enemy fire without having a plan?

  “Stop!” To her surprise, the men obeyed. “Leaving this room without having a clue about what is going on will get you killed. You all know that as trained paramilitary. Now get your asses back in here.” Of course, the guys deferred to their boss, waiting for his say.

  “Fuck, she’s right,” he said. “You can’t rescue your mates if you’re dead as soon as you walk through the door.”

  While he argued with his team, she dialed the security room. It picked up on the first ring. “Dotson, shut down all elevators and lock exterior doors, except the main entrance.”

  “Already done, Sergeant,” Dotson responded.

  “Good. What do we have?” she asked while she brought up the security camera footage on her laptop. “Tumbel, come here. This is no prank.”

  Dotson responded, “Looks like four armed men entered through the catering staging area. They shot into the air. Nobody is hurt, as far as I can tell.”

  “What about our perimeter guys?” she asked. Suddenly, she was very scared for her men. A good plan of attack usually involved taking down the outer defense first, then infiltration.

  “They seem fine,” he said. “No, their uniforms. They are different. Wait.” Candy locked onto the in-house wireless cable signal. She saw the same images Dotson did in security. The masked men in the lobby were collecting cell phones.

  Suddenly, a tall man put the tip of his automatic rifle to a man’s head. Candy didn’t breathe. Please, no deaths. The bad guy reached into the man’s coat and pulled out a hand gun. A shot lightly echoed from a distance and the man crumbled to the ground. Those around the fallen man scuttled away. The masked guy looked around, saying something. Dammit. She didn’t have audio on this remote site.

  She snatched up the phone. “Dotson, what is he saying?”

  “He said if anyone else has a gun, they need to put it on the ground or he’ll shoot them when he finds it on them.”

  “This is a federal building,” Candy said. “It’s illegal to carry firearms into this facility. No one else should have one, according to the guest list.”

  “What about the guy who did have a gun, then? Why did security let him through?” Dotson asked.

  “He was an agent with another department, cleared to carry a concealed weapon,” she said. She knew the agent by sight, but never talked with him. Then a thought hit her. “How could he know who’s carrying, anyway?”

  “Shit,” Tumbel said. “When I came in the front doors, I saw one of the caterers—who I thought was a caterer—standing close by, watching. He would’ve seen everyone who came through the metal detector.”

  Candy turned to him. “Can you pick him out?”

  “Not in these images. They are too fuzzy and far away,” he said.

  “Ma’am,” Dotson cut in, “another thing, he has a thick accent. Somewhat hard to understand.” A clue. Their bad guys were from another country where English wasn’t the main language.

  “Do you know what language it could be, Dotson?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. I don’t,” he replied.

  “That’s fine.” She didn’t expect him to know but thought she’d ask anyway.

  “Ma’am, look at the lower right exterior camera.” Wide views of the outside of the building showed men standing guard. Dotson zoomed in the camera’s focus on the bushes alongside the building. There was something there, but she couldn’t tell what.

  Then she recognized the face of one of the guards. He lay in the shrubs, his body sprawled out like he had been thrown carelessly. She felt positive the three other guards were in similar conditions. Candy swallowed the shot of pain coursing through her. In war, there were casualties. And now she had a clear goal: Take down the bastards who’d killed her guys. No jail sentences, but fast execution.

  “I see it, Dotson,” she whispered on the phone.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice wavering.

  “Hey,” Josh leaned against her, “what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  Candy held a finger up telling him to wait a minute. With Josh closer to her, she had to hold herself together. There was no time to get emotional. Now she had to think and strategize on what to do. “Dotson, stay put. Do not open the door unless it is me and then only if I’m alone. You got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She hung up and closed her eyes. A deep breath helped her put everything into perspective and prioritize.

  Tumbel’s team gathered around her, looking at the computer screen. “We have four gunmen inside. Outer defenses have been taken over by the enemy—”

  “You mean . . .” Tumbel said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

  With a jerk, she leaned away from him until his hand moved off. “I told you not to touch me,” she tried to say the words calmly but knew they came out like an ice-cold demand. It didn’t matter. Best for him to learn now. People didn’t touch her. Ever. “And yes, all four guards have been compromised.”

  One of the guys behind her said to call 911. Tumbel snorted. “We are the 911, Hamel.”

  Yes, that was true. She was the one in charge of the situation and she had to find a quick, peaceful resolution.

  One of the men leaned over her, tapping the screen. “There, our mates are there.”

  Candy looked at the camera shot. So not good. One of the bad guys had his gun pointed at a woman in Tumbel’s group dow
nstairs. She was going to be the first casualty.

  CHAPTER 6

  Candy stared at the image of the “mates” on the screen. The one at gunpoint was calm and poised. “Which one is she?” Candy asked.

  “That’s Amerella,” the one named Dubois said. “My mate.”

  What the hell was up with this “mate” thing? Made them sound like a bunch of animals.

  “She’s been at gunpoint so many times, this is nothing for her. Living in a mobster family unfortunately prepares you for this kinda thing.” Despite his words, Candy felt the tension roll off him like water. Mobster? One of their fucked-up missions was with the mafia. She hadn’t read the particulars of the reports that had been messed up, but now she wondered if Amerella was connected to that.

  Amerella said something and turned her back to the gunman, looking bored at the whole thing. The woman was brave. A sense of pride for all womankind spread through Candy. Women were stronger nowadays. They didn’t back down from fights when they stood up for what they believed. They did whatever it took to keep their loved ones happy and safe. Exactly what she had been fighting for the past twenty years of her life. Equality.

  She watched as Amerella loaded a plate with finger foods and handed it to the man. Then she returned to the floor with the other two girls by the table. The guy stared at her for a moment then walked away. The tension in the room dropped.

  Hamel flicked the lights off. She should’ve thought about that. Giving away their presence on the floor above the action wasn’t good. If they sent someone up to check out the office, she’d have to kill him. Since no one had come yet, she hoped those outside hadn’t paid much attention to a light being on.

  The laptop gave off enough light for her to see. The others walking around her office were on their own. How they hadn’t tripped over furniture yet surprised her. They didn’t have any night-vision goggles, did they? Dubois then hurried to the side window.

  “I see the guard’s body on this side. Dead.” He went to the other window. “Damn. Same thing.” He gave a heavy sigh.

  “How can you see that at this distance?” she asked. “It’s dark outside.” The men shuffled, but said nothing. Movement on the laptop screen drew her attention. The guests were lying facedown on the floor with their arms extended past their heads. Well, shit. Candy scooped up her phone and pressed the speed dial for the White House security.

  “Hey, Candy—”

  “We have a hostage situation at the NIB,” she spit out. “This is not a drill. Repeat, not a drill.”

  “What? Fuck,” the man on the other side of the line said. “Call me when you have intel.” The phone beeped that the call had ended.

  “Who was that?” Josh asked.

  “White House security,” she said. “Protocol is to immediately inform the Secret Service about any threatening activities. They’ll then call in reinforcements to protect the president and his wife.” He probably knew protocol, but she said it more for her own benefit than his. She pressed another speed dial number.

  “Dresden here.”

  “This is Sergeant Major Candace Obermier. We have a hostage situation with four inside and four outside at the NIB.”

  “Shit. Candy, what the hell is going on over there?” Dresden said.

  “Dres, this is bad,” she replied. “The NIA is having a dedication ceremony tonight.”

  “Yes. I was invited as head of national security,” he said.

  “Before the ceremony began, four armed men took over the lobby, holding everyone hostage. My four outside men are down, replaced by their men, I’m guessing. Pommer and several other high-ranking officers are here. This could get ugly if our top guys are retired permanently. We need help now.”

  “Dammit, Candy. You know it will take a couple hours to put together an operation with men, munitions, and planning.”

  “Yes, sir. Until you arrive, the Alpha League of Federal Agents are with me in my office one floor above the scene,” she said.

  “You’re with the ALFAs?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hell, Candy. You don’t need me, then. Let those boys take care of it. They’re more than qualified.”

  “Sir, I’m sure they are, but—”

  “I’ll have a group of my guys go over there to assess and do what they can. But without knowing Director Tumbel’s plans, we would only be getting in the way. I’ll have them there in an hour.” Her phone went silent. She tossed the phone on the desk and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling back the strands that had fallen from her bun.

  Time to make a plan, then, she thought.

  Josh stood back and said, “It’s time to make a plan.”

  She looked up at him. The side of his lips tilted up and he winked at her. Fucking god, her heart sputtered. Disgusted with her weakness, she got up and moved away from him. He was too alluring, too enthralling, and the man hadn’t even done anything but wink! She was in so much trouble.

  Hamel paced. “We need more intel on the situation before we can assess anything. Then we need to figure out the best way to get our mates out.”

  “Whoa, there, buddy,” she said. “We’re getting everyone out, not just your wives or mates or whatever the hell you call them. Leave no man behind.” Due to the darkness in the office, she couldn’t see his reaction. Probably a good thing. “Okay, we have to get closer to the terrorists and listen in. See what we can find out.”

  “Shimmy down the elevator shaft?” Day asked.

  “Good thought,” she replied, “but the with the doors closed and the concrete encasing each shaft, it’ll be impossible to see or hear anything.”

  “Is there a way to get over or under them?” Tumbel asked.

  The answer slapped her upside the head. “Yes, there is.” She felt her way around her desk toward her chair, scooped up her phone and pocketed it. “The lobby ceiling has been reinforced with steel beams and there’s enough space to walk.” She put her hands out, blindly, feeling her way. “Where’s the damn door?”

  Light slipped into the room from the door opening. Tumbel breathed deeply, then motioned to her. What the hell was up with these people’s heavy breathing? She was starting to think none of them were playing with a full deck of cards.

  “The hall is clear,” Josh said, stepping back. “Lead the way, Sergeant Major.”

  Candy stopped at the light’s cusp and said, “I can do this on my own, Tumbel. Your team isn’t needed for this.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “My guys will stay and watch the monitors. But I’m going with you.” She put a hand on her hip and stared at him. Was he really going to make an issue out of this? she wondered.

  He pointed to the hallway floor where he stood. “If your cute fanny isn’t out here in five seconds, I’m grabbing your hand to drag you out.” That got her moving. No way did she need him touching her again. But she had to admit his touch was pleasant. Nothing like her father’s or that of some men she’d had to deal with on the base.

  Focusing on what she was doing, she scoured the hall, looking for an air return duct. She knew one accessed the space above the lobby ceiling to suck out the hot air that built up in the summer months. On the other side of the elevators, she hit pay dirt. A large opening covered by a metal grating was cut into the wall several inches from the ground. She leaned over and grabbed her shoe.

  “You need to take your shoes and socks off if you’re going down with me.”

  “We’re going down that?” He pointed to the grate.

  “Yeah,” she said, “you scared?”

  His face hardened and she almost laughed at his change in expression. “No. I’m just not sure I’ll fit.”

  Candy shrugged. “If not, you stay up here, then.”

  Again, his face morphed, but this time his brows came down and his lips pursed. “I’m not letting you go alone. Yo
u have no idea what you might run into.” She did, but there was no telling him that.

  After opening the metal grid and removing the air filter, she wiggled her way in, feet first. Since getting a desk job a year ago, she’d put on weight. More than she ever had, even though she ran daily and worked out regularly. It was just the feminine body she had. Her mother was the same way.

  The jerk laughed at her the entire time she stuffed herself into the vent shaft. She’d see if he even had the guts to go through with this. She’d kick his ass if he chickened out.

  CHAPTER 7

  Josh could not believe he was going to crawl down an air duct. What the fuck was he thinking. Fuck was exactly what he was thinking. Damn animal and its one-track mind. Good thing he had the wolf to blame. Otherwise, he’d have to kick his own ass for being so chauvinistic. He needed to pull his shit together. He growled at his mating needs. He was a professional. The last fucking thing he needed was to mess up what they were doing because his animal had taken control of the situation.

  Taking his shoes off, he chuckled as he watched his lovely mate stick her ass end in the air and crawl backward into the shaft. “You need to use the friction from your skin to keep from sliding down.”

  Ain’t she a little genius, he thought. Friction on skin—sounded sexy as hell to him. “You do this often?” he asked. She snorted at him and disappeared down the hole.

  “Okay, Tumbel,” he said to himself, “you volunteered for this craziness.” He scooted closer to the vent and repeated Candy’s movements. He scraped his knee putting his leg inside the hole. “Oww, shit, that hurt.”

  “Shhh,” Candy called up. “You voice carries in here.”

  He looked down. “Sorry,” he whispered. What the hell was he thinking when he said that he could do this? There was barely enough room for him to get a grip on the walls. But just like his mate had said, he used the friction between skin and metal to inch his way down. This would be a total disaster if he fell.