Navy SEAL Rescue

by Susan Cliff

  “What if he wants to take me to America?”

  “Does he make you happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go with him.”

  Layah didn’t mention the obvious—that she had Ashur to consider. She’d already spoken to both her parents at length about his guardianship. They wanted the boy to stay in Verin Dvin. Layah hadn’t decided her own fate, but his was secure. He seemed to like it here with Aram and his grandparents.

  William returned before Layah was ready. He said hello to her mother in Arabic, and he called Layah a treasure. Her mother beamed with approval. Layah gave her the tulips. Then she took him by the elbow and walked away for a private talk.

  “You’ve been practicing Arabic.”

  “I wanted to impress your mother.”

  “You did.”

  They fell silent, watching Aram and Ashur try to rescue the football out of the tree. “Does Ashur like it here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you?”

  Her throat closed up with emotion. “It is peaceful.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets, contemplative. Now that she’d calmed down a little, she could appreciate his appearance. He looked fantastic clean-shaven. He’d gained weight, and it favored him. His clothes fit well. He was devastatingly handsome.

  While she studied him, he studied her. “You’re more beautiful than I remember.”

  “I’m wearing makeup.”

  “Are you expecting?”

  The question robbed the breath from her lungs. “Is that what you came to discuss?”

  “No. I have other topics.”

  “I’m not expecting.”

  “Okay,” he said, smiling.

  “Are you relieved?”

  He shrugged. “I could go either way.”

  She kept walking toward a cobblestone path in the distance. He followed, grasping her hand. The warm contact tingled through her palm and danced across her skin. She could smell his aftershave, or some other enticing male scent. He was wonderfully tall. She felt the overwhelming urge to stand on tiptoe and kiss him.

  “I can’t stop staring at you,” he said.

  “How long are you here for?”

  “I have three more weeks off. We can stay here, or go somewhere else.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then your visa will be approved.”

  “My visa?”

  He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I made some inquiries for you and Ashur, based on the promises made by Team Twelve to Hasan. INS was already in the process of approving visas for two of Hasan’s family members. We owe you.”

  Layah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d hoped there would be no criminal charges pending against her. Securing a visa was beyond her wildest dreams. It was incredibly difficult for an Iraqi national to begin the citizenship process in the US.

  “There’s a catch,” he said. “I told immigration officials we were engaged.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  He fumbled in his pocket for a velvet box. Taking a deep breath, he got down on one knee and presented it to her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, glancing around them. They were alone.

  “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  She took the box and opened it. There was a diamond ring inside, sparkling like a star.

  “I love you, Layah. I can’t live without you. I told you I’d do anything for you, and I will. I want you to come to California and be my wife.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again. She shut the box. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  “I have to talk to Ashur.”

  William arched a brow. “You’re going to let him decide?”

  “No. I’m going to think about it, and ask him how he feels. This is important.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  She rushed away before he could draw her into his arms and make her melt. She’d been ready to throw herself at him the moment he’d appeared. She needed a minute to collect her thoughts. It was important to be calm and deliberate in her decision-making process. She returned to the picnic area and found Ashur. He walked along the path with her.

  “William asked me to marry him.”

  “Who’s William?”

  “Hudson. William Hudson.”

  “Oh.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  He just shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s okay, for an American.”

  “He wants us to live with him.”

  Ashur’s brow furrowed. “Us?”

  “He can get you a visa. You can come to America.”

  “No. I like it here.”

  She took a deep breath, fighting tears again. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I never thought you would stay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of him.”

  “I’m your guardian.”

  “You’re not my mother. I’ll be fine without you.”

  Her face crumpled with sorrow. Ashur didn’t pull any punches.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, putting his arm around her. “You’re my favorite aunt.”

  “I’m your only aunt.”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  She hugged him close, weeping on his thin shoulder. By the time she was finished, she’d made her decision. Ashur was doing well here, and he might not adjust to another move easily. He could always come visit. Maybe in a few years, when he was ready for college, he’d reconsider.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and returned to William’s side. She opened the box to remove the ring and place it on her finger. The diamond sparkled cheerily. She held her hand in the sun to catch the light.

  “Well?”

  “My answer is yes. I will marry you.”

  He let out an excited whoop and lifted her off her feet. They whirled around in a circle. “I love you,” he said, setting her down.

  She stroked the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Since when?”

  She thought back, trying to pinpoint the moment. “When you put your arms around me and Ashur to protect us from bullets. I knew then that I would no longer pine for Khalil. You had replaced him in my heart.”

  “I don’t expect you to forget him.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  “Is Ashur coming with us?”

  “No. He wants to live here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You are?”

  “He’s grown on me.”

  “You are a good man, William Hudson.”

  “You’re a good woman, Layah Anwar.”

  “We are lucky to have found each other.”

  “I’m the lucky one.”

  She wanted to argue, but he crushed his mouth over hers in a passionate kiss. She kissed him back with relish, her toes curling. They were both lucky. Lucky to have escaped, lucky to have survived, and lucky to start a new life together—forever.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the first TEAM TWELVE story

  from Susan Cliff

  STRANDED WITH THE NAVY SEAL

  Working on a cruise ship was supposed to be the perfect distraction for chef Cady Crenshaw. Instead, it made her the perfect target. Abducted and thrown overboard into foreign waters, she has only one shot at survival...and it comes at the hands of an irresistible ally.

  Navy SEAL Logan Starke’s protective instincts were locked and loaded the moment he met Cady at the ship’s bar. When a violent struggle to take down her capto
rs leaves Logan and Cady stranded on a deserted island, he leaps into rescue mode. But the hot sand and the even hotter attraction between them can’t be denied...and temptation could be the deadliest threat yet.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HER ROCKY MOUNTAIN DEFENDER by Jennifer D. Bokal.

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  Her Rocky Mountain Defender

  by Jennifer D. Bokal

  Prologue

  Roman DeMarco sat at the table in the kitchen of a cramped studio apartment. Like an ever-present fog, the smell of overcooked eggs crept in from the hallway. In the distance, a baby’s wail pierced the still afternoon. He lifted his weary gaze to the window. The view was of the stained brick building next door. Roman had lived under an alias—Roman Black—paying rent and sleeping in this apartment for almost half of a year, yet this place wasn’t his home.

  Turning his gaze back to the table, Roman held up his latest creation. It was a powerful ELD, or electronic listening device. He hit the power button. A small rectangular screen glowed and filled with boxy script. It held two words: Signal Obtained.

  During his years as an intelligence officer with Delta Force, Roman had bugged many rooms. But this next target had proved to be uniquely difficult.

  As far as Roman was concerned, he loved the challenge. The targeted room—underground and made of concrete—was the first problem. Any signal coming from the room needed to be strong, and using an easily hidden, thumb-size ELD was impossible. It left Roman to fashion his own device. The bug might be larger than he wanted, but the battery should be powerful enough to last fourteen days. Or so he hoped.

  “Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three,” he said.

  He pressed a small button on the side. His words were replayed. “Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three.”

  He turned the device over and examined the back. Two powerful magnets lined each side of the ELD. He moved to his refrigerator and held out the black box. Like a live thing, the magnets pulled, and the ELD wiggled in his grasp. He let go and it sailed an inch from his hand, connecting with the appliance’s metal casing. He smiled to himself. If things went as planned, Roman was about to reclaim his former life.

  It couldn’t come a day too soon.

  Chapter 1

  Boulder, Colorado.

  9:45 PM

  May 5

  “There you go,” Roman DeMarco said. He poured whiskey into a shot glass and slid the drink to a customer. Moving to the next person, he cast his gaze at the room. It was still early in the evening, but more than two dozen patrons filled The Prow.

  No, patron wasn’t the right word; it gave the bar an air of respectability it didn’t deserve. This place was the last stop on a person’s long, downhill slide to the gutter. Only a few recessed lights over the bar illuminated the windowless room. The smell of stale beer, body odor and desperation hung in the air. The constant thump, thump, thump of a rock song pounded through the stereo system, the bass so deep that the sticky floor reverberated with the chords. The occasional cackle of drunken laughter cut through the music—the sound more manic than merry.

  Singles hunched protectively over their drinks, while couples cast furtive glances at each other and moved toward darkened corners. The words, The Prow—spelled out in neon letters three feet high—were superimposed on the front of an illuminated sailing ship as it cut through a glowing wave. The sign hung on the back wall and cast a bloody light on a motorcycle club shooting a game of pool.

  It would have been easy for Roman to feel disdain for these people, the forgotten of the world. But he didn’t, not at all.

  He wasn’t your average bartender. No, as an employee of Rocky Mountain Justice, a private security firm, Roman was at The Prow to gather information about the bar’s owner, Oleg Zavalov.

  Five months prior, RMJ had gained information about Nikolai Mateev, a Russian drug lord who was wanted all over the world. The recent intel suggested that Zavalov not only laundered money for Mateev, but employed his great-nephew, as well. But what RMJ needed was proof—and that meant putting one of their people on the inside. With dual specialties in electronic surveillance and languages, Roman was the perfect man for the job.

  It was hard to break through, though. Zavalov, mistrustful by nature, kept a tightly knit duo of two Russian nationals with him all the time. One of them was indeed Nikolai Mateev’s great-nephew. Beyond that, in five months Roman had gleaned woefully little information about the suspected money laundering. Yet, he hoped that once he planted that ELD in Oleg Zavalov’s office, all of that would change.

  Now all he needed was an excuse to get into the locked basement and plant the bug.

  A regular, a cop who drank for free, approached and slammed down an empty glass. “Another beer,” he said, running a hand through his thick blond hair. Worse than anyone else was the cop who turned a blind eye to the rampant crime in this place for free beer.

  Roman faked a smile.

  “Sure,” he said, grabbing the glass. He turned to the tap and pulled down the handle. Foam spit and gurgled from the tap. An empty keg was the perfect reason to get into the basement.

  “This one’s spent, Jackson,” he said to the cop. Jackson. Roman could never figure out if it was a first or last name. “Give me a minute. I need to get a new keg from the basement,” Roman said, turning to the manager as Jackson shifted his attention to a group of women nearby.

  The manager held out a ring with three keys and Roman took them with a nod. He unlocked the basement door marked as private, and flipped on the light switch. The golden glow of a single bulb illuminated a set of dilapidated wooden stairs, cinder block walls and a patch of gunmetal-gray concrete of the basement floor.

  A hallway with four doors was laid out at the bottom of the stairs. The back door, controlled with an electronic lock, led to the alley behind the bar. On the left there was a locked door to the beer cooler and next door, a storage room filled with cheap liquor and stale snacks. The final door, the one that led to Oleg Zavalov’s office, was on the right.

  Roman didn’t waste any time. He quickly unlocked Zavalov’s office door and slipped inside. Using the penlight he kept in his back pocket, he withdrew the ELD and powered up the device. A small green screen began to glow. One word appeared: Acquiring.

  “Damn.” He moved closer to the door. Still no connection. He glanced at his watch. He’d been gone less than two minutes, but how much longer before his absence was noticed upstairs?

  The inset screen still glowed green as one word scrolled across its face.

 
Acquiring.

  Acquiring.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. He glanced at the screen one last time. Signal Obtained. Roman placed the ELD under the top of Zavalov’s desk, an imperfect place, but the best option he had. The door creaked open, giving Roman a split second to think up an excuse for being in a room that was unquestionably off-limits.

  * * *

  Madelyn Thompkins wasn’t in the habit of sneaking down rickety staircases in dive bars. But this was the opposite of habit: according to social media, her sister, Ava had been at The Prow less than an hour before.

  No one had heard from Ava since she checked out of rehab in their hometown of Cheyenne, Wyoming, four months ago. So to have her turn up in Boulder, where Madelyn was enrolled in med school? It was an opportunity she couldn’t squander.

  Despite the crummy neighborhood and the sketchy bar, Madelyn came straightaway. A quick search of both the main bar and the bathroom turned up nothing. It left her with two choices: give up on her first chance in months to find her sister, or explore the entire building—even the parts that were off-limits, like the basement hallway she was standing in. Then again, when she thought of it that way, Madelyn didn’t have a choice at all.

  She pushed the slightly ajar door fully open and peered into the room. A figure, shrouded with the dark, moved. She wasn’t alone. Her pulse spiked and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

  “Hello,” she called out. The room swallowed her words. “I’m looking for Ava Thompkins. Do you know her?”

  “You aren’t supposed to be here. This place is for employees only,” a man said. “The sign on the door says ‘Private.’ Can’t you read?”

  She hadn’t come this way for nothing. She fished her phone from her cross-body purse and pulled up her sister’s latest picture and post. Turning the screen to the room, she asked, “Do you recognize this woman?”

  Suddenly the man was in front of her. He had short, dark hair, and was clad in a form-fitting black T-shirt and snug jeans. He was big—well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms. The outline of his pecs and abs were unmistakable.

  “I’m the bartender, so I see a lot of people,” he said, giving a noncommittal answer. “What’s she to you?”