Romanced by a SEAL: Hot SEALs

by Cat Johnson

  ISIS in Mosul was a problem Jon had hoped GAPS could help solve.

  The camp Fire Base Bell was set up to protect was home to Iraqi and Kurdish Peshmerga troops, as well as US advisory forces. Those included US Navy SEALs, if the information Zane had about the most recent casualty was correct.

  The review committee hadn’t agreed to let GAPS come here months ago, and they wouldn’t even take Zane’s request for a meeting now.

  Just one of the many reasons Jon had agreed to take this assignment. If GAPS couldn’t help through official channels, Jon would in ways that were a little . . . less official. He could get more accomplished like this than with the government and the military looking over his shoulder anyway.

  Inside one of the Humvees, squashed shoulder to shoulder with two men who didn’t speak English, he realized he would never have had this kind of backstage pass to an ISIS attack had he come here as an advisor on a GAPS contract.

  He could only hope he lived long enough to pass on all he’d learned to the organization that had sent him in. But first he had to either stop this attack or get word to the good guys it was coming.

  The last thing he wanted was to be on the ISIS side of the line when air support swooped in, but if he couldn’t sneak away that was exactly what would happen.

  Sneaking away before the attack would be the best course of action. Breaking away might not be all that hard.

  The quickly assembled attack unit was sloppy at best, comprised of fighters not all that concerned about discipline and leaders who valued quantity over quality.

  Jon snapped to attention when the lead vehicle in the caravan stopped and the rest followed. They must be close to the line and they were stopping to plan and regroup.

  In that most recent attack near Erbil, ISIS had crashed through a Kurdish checkpoint with armored vehicles and had barreled directly into the small town where the US advisors had been meeting with locals.

  Jon had to think they wouldn’t deviate much from what had proven to be a successful offense for them. Successful if they didn’t consider that air support took out most of their fighters later that day. But it seemed the Islamic State treated fighters as an expendable, renewable resource so they probably didn’t care how many they lost.

  That this was a predictable enemy worked in his favor and as the entire convoy ground to a stop somewhere that had to be very near where he needed to be, Jon liked his odds.

  Jumping down from the Humvee, weapon in hand, Jon took in his surroundings.

  Chaos was a good word for the situation around him. Abu Salah emerged from a vehicle, shouting in Arabic to the troops in an attempt to organize the fighters.

  They fell into a formation, Jon among them. Slouching to hide his height, he forced himself to blend in rather than stand out.

  Once he imitated the stance of the other fighters, it was easy. They all wore the same black clothing and they’d all been supplied with a black hood for the attack. Looking the part was apparently more important to the leaders than actually having qualified men.

  Jon stood as instructions were relayed in Arabic. Then the translators broke off from the group and repeated the information—in French. In Russian. In Belgian.

  Finally, Abu Jamal approached to personally deliver Jon’s instructions in English. “Warrior. Walk with me.”

  Jon tipped his head and followed the man to the edge of the light provided by the temporary encampment. Then Jamal continued into the darkness. There was a brief moment of doubt as to why he had been separated from the group.

  Was this it? Had he been compromised?

  The sound of Jamal unzipping the fly of his pants was followed shortly by the man’s sigh as he relieved himself.

  Jon wasn’t going to be killed. Jamal just had to take a piss.

  He let himself breathe again.

  “Long drive,” Jamal said.

  “Shorter than I expected actually,” Jon replied.

  Abu Jamal let out a snort. “Yes, the Americans dare to set up a camp this close to us. Just a few miles from where we stand is the checkpoint where Kurdish dogs think they can keep us at bay. But we will show them.”

  “When? When do we attack?” Jon kept his voice steady even as his heart thundered at the turn of events.

  He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. Alone in the dark with Jamal. Just miles from the Kurdish check point. And he was about to have the last detail he needed. The answer to the one remaining question.

  When.

  “Just before first light.” Abu Jamal supplied that final answer Jon needed.

  Of course. They would have to wait until closer to dawn. The coalition forces had night vision equipment. Heat detection. The ability to see targets even in the dark. With night vision goggles, darkness was a friend.

  But ISIS, for all they had stolen, was not so well equipped. They needed the first light of dawn for the fighters to see. More importantly, the wait until dawn would give Jon all the time he needed.

  Abu Jamal continued as he zipped his pants, “Abu Salah gave me a message for you, Warrior. Bring him back a hostage, preferably an American, and you may have the honor of taking the man’s head. It is quite an honor for you.”

  The words sent a chill down Jon’s spine, even as his anger sent the blood rushing through his veins. Before Jamal could turn back to camp, Jon made his move.

  Swift and strong, Jon had him in a headlock in one quick smooth move.

  While Jon choked him out, Abu Jamal managed to say, “I should have known.”

  As Jamal’s body grew heavy against Jon’s, he considered Jamal’s gasped, muffled observation. He couldn’t really disagree on that point. The signs had all been there that Jon was a professional fighter.

  Jon answered Jamal, though by then he was probably past hearing. “Yeah, you should have.”

  Abu Jamal’s mistake would cost him. Jon dispatched with his enemy quickly and silently with one twist and snap of his neck.

  Chances were good no one would even notice Jon was gone but they might notice Jamal missing.

  Shaking as the adrenaline surged through him, Jon flung the dead weight of Jamal’s body over his shoulder and carried him deeper into the darkness. Far enough away that no one from the camp would stumble upon him should they need to similarly relieve themselves.

  With that move buying him time to get away and to the checkpoint Jon dumped Jamal on the ground and then faded into the shadows of the night.

  He ran full out, as fast as he could in the darkness lit only by stars and the smallest sliver of moon. Adrenaline and training made it so his gun and ammo were barely a noticeable weight as he quickly covered the few miles.

  When the lights of the checkpoint came into view, he knew he had a choice to make. Put down his weapon—his best defense—and walk into the checkpoint with his hands up, or keep the gun and risk having the good guys shoot him for being armed.

  He was, after all, coming at them from ISIS-held territory dressed like a jihadist.

  Thank God he didn’t sound like the typical ISIS fighter.

  Laying the weapon down, Jon drew in a bracing breath and yelled, first in English and then in his passible Kurdish as well as in fairly decent Arabic, “I’m American. Don’t shoot!”

  It was the one phrase he knew in nearly every language.

  With his gun in the dirt behind him and his hands held high in the air as he walked, he only hoped the words worked to protect him now.

  CHAPTER 14

  How any doctor could think that a piece of paper masquerading as a gown was enough to make an otherwise naked patient feel covered and comfortable was beyond Ali. But she had plenty of time to contemplate the point as she sat on the edge of the table and stoically ignored the stirrups on either side of her while she waited . . . and waited.

  What was taking the doctor so long anyway?

  She was sure her blood pressure was getting higher the longer she sat there.

  It had been bad enough the nurse h
ad weighed her and written down what Ali knew was the heaviest she’d ever been in her life. But now the doctor was probably going to make a comment on her elevated blood pressure too.

  Finally, the door swung open and Doctor Meredith Bergman came through. Young. Pretty. Thin. Tall. If the doctor weren’t so damn friendly and nice, Ali would have really resented her.

  It wasn’t the doctor’s fault she had flawless porcelain skin and hair like gleaming golden silk. It was, however, her fault she’d kept Ali waiting so long that she now felt like she was going to hyperventilate.

  The doctor laid the chart on the counter and turned to Ali. “So, according to the test results, you were right.”

  “About what?” Ali swallowed hard, hoping she had been right about something else, instead of what she feared she’d been right about.

  Doctor Bergman smiled. “You’re pregnant.”

  Ali felt the room sway. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to need to take a blood sample just to make sure your hormone levels are where they should be.”

  Ali barely felt as the doctor held her arm and siphoned out a tube of her blood. Normally the sight would have turned her stomach. Today, her stomach already churned but she was in too much shock to care.

  She’d convinced herself her period was late from stress. It had been a good excuse. She’d liked that reason. Liked it so much she’d put off taking the home pregnancy test for days after she suspected she should have.

  When she finally did, that little plus sign appeared on the stick and she couldn’t put off making the appointment with her doctor any longer.

  Even then, she’d held tight to her hope that the test had given a false positive. Maybe even because of that damn St. John’s Wort she’d been taking.

  But hearing it definitively from the OB/GYN dissolved that last bit of hope.

  With the reality of a baby facing her, Ali was having trouble breathing. The doctor noticed and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a shock.” Ali raised her eyes to meet the doctor’s concerned gaze. “I’ve been on the pill for almost two years.”

  “Yes. It’s rare but it’s been known to happen. Obviously stop taking the birth control immediately if you haven’t already.”

  Ali nodded and swallowed hard, worried because she hadn’t stopped taking the pills until after she’d taken the test. “Will it be okay? The baby, I mean?”

  “It shouldn’t affect the baby but we’ll keep a close eye on things. And I recommend you stop taking the St. John’s Wort and any other herbal remedies you might have forgotten to list.” The doctor glanced at the chart and back up.

  Point taken. She had done this to herself by trying to self medicate. Unknowingly, but even so, she’d made this bed and now she had to lie in it.

  Lie in it alone apparently since she still couldn’t get in touch with Jon even if she had wanted to tell him about the baby, which she really didn’t.

  God. This was an absolute disaster. Jon hadn’t even wanted to talk about the future for just the two of them, so she was pretty sure having an unexpected baby was not going to be on his to do list.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  Ali rallied every last bit of strength she had left in her and forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  She managed to maintain the façade through the remainder of the appointment, but by the time she paid her insurance co-pay and made an appointment for the first of her prenatal visits, Ali was drained. She drove home in a daze.

  Truth be told she probably shouldn’t have been driving at all. Her mind wasn’t on the traffic but she somehow made it to Jon’s condo without incident.

  Jon’s condo. It was where she’d been living since the lease on her place had ended but it still felt like his—not theirs. Here, she kind of felt like a guest who’d overstayed her welcome.

  Ali suddenly missed her old rental. It hadn’t been that great—not like Jon’s tricked-out, state of the art place with the automatic lights and security system worthy of Fort Knox—but it had been truly hers.

  The confirmation of the pregnancy had drained her of all energy and will. She certainly didn’t have the brainpower to contemplate her current living situation, or if she should change it.

  It was all she could do to kick off her shoes and dump her purse on the counter. She locked the door but after a weary glance at the keypad didn’t turn on the alarm. It seemed beyond her at the moment.

  Besides, Jon wasn’t there to yell at her about it anyway so . . .

  Ali went directly to the sofa and flopped back on the pillow. She didn’t even bother grabbing the remote control from the coffee table. There had to be hundreds of channels available to watch but she couldn’t think of a thing that would take her mind off this.

  Laying her hand over her belly, she felt the rounded mound beneath her fingers. Stress combined with Ben & Jerry’s ice cream had been the main contributor, but now she knew Jon had had a little something to do with it too.

  She felt the tears fill her eyes and yanked her hand off her stomach, transferring it quickly onto the sofa cushion next to her as if that would make it all go away. She let out a snort, knowing it wouldn’t.

  On the bright side, she finally had one reason to be glad Jon had disappeared without a trace. As long as he was gone, she wouldn’t have to tell him the bad news.

  Bad news. No baby should be considered that.

  She moved her hand back to rest on her abdomen when she realized what she’d thought. “Sorry, baby.”

  Sighing, Ali dropped her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. Worrying wouldn’t change or solve anything.

  Maybe a nap would.

  Ali didn’t know how long she’d been out before she was jarred awake. She opened her eyes to find the living room completely dark except for the dim light coming through the window from the streetlights outside.

  As her brain started to work a little better, it finally registered what had startled her awake. Someone was knocking on the door.

  Pounding was a better word really.

  Jon’s safety lessons were ingrained in her. She moved toward the door and put one hand up to the alarm keypad, just in case.

  Pushing the panic button was the best she could do if someone tried to force their way inside, since she hadn’t armed the security system. Even while he was absent she could imagine Jon’s disappointment and judgment over that move.

  One glance through the peephole had her letting out a loud frustrated breath. It was Darci and Chris.

  Ali used two hands to unlock the deadbolt and open the door.

  “What are you pounding about?” she asked as she stepped back and let them into the condo.

  “Why don’t you answer your cell phone?” Darci’s eyes were wide as she countered with a question of her own while Chris closed the door behind him.

  “I didn’t hear it.” Ali frowned and then remembered she’d put it on vibrate in the waiting room at the doctor’s office so it wouldn’t ring in the middle of her visit. It was still in her purse so of course she didn’t hear it as she slept. “What’s so urgent?”

  Darci glanced at Chris. That move alone was enough to have Ali’s heart pounding.

  “What? Tell me.”

  It was Chris who answered. “They found Jon.”

  Found.

  She’d waited for weeks for word on Jon but found was not the word she wanted to hear.

  Found how? His body? Him alive? Him injured? So many questions that Ali never got an answer to as the room swayed around her.

  The last thing she saw was Chris reaching out to grab her as she fell, while Darci shrieked. Then her vision dissolved into black.

  CHAPTER 15

  Camp Swift, the US camp marked only by a hand painted wooden sign, was located in the middle of the larger ramshackle Kurdish military base.

  The understated facility belied its importance. It was positioned perfectly for joint
forces ground troops to operate out of in the effort to retake Mosul and defeat ISIS in northern Iraq.

  Considering how critical the location, the camp was not impressive by any stretch of the imagination . . . and Jon had never been so happy to see any place in his life.

  That had been true two hours ago when the Kurds had brought him here, even with his hands bound behind his back.

  It remained true now, even as the senior American commander in Makhmour stood screaming at him so violently the spit from the force of his words had already hit Jon in the face and chest a few times.

  At least Jon had been taken to the top guy at camp. That was something.

  “You private contractor assholes think you can come over here and be some kind of a hero! And then when the shit hits the fan you expect us to swoop in with our men and our equipment and rescue you. Well, you’re not going to pull this bullshit in my warzone. I will not put one US life on the line to save the likes of you or any of your friends. Since you’re lucky enough, by some miracle, to be alive, you go home and tell all your Rambo buddies that.”

  He didn’t remind the officer that he hadn’t needed any rescuing. He’d made it to the Kurdish checkpoint without incident all on his own, without any help from him or his men or his equipment.

  This wasn’t the first dressing down he’d gotten from a superior officer. Since GAPS often worked in theater with US military, it probably wouldn’t be his last.

  Jon stared straight ahead, and took the accusations without comment while standing at parade rest.

  It was the one standing military position he could do with his hands still zip-tied behind his back. He had a feeling the angry commander in front of him needed the reminder that Jon had once been a decorated sailor, no matter what he looked like now.

  The first thing Jon was going to do when they cut him loose was shave this damn beard and trim his hair. He had enough of looking like a terrorist. It might have helped him while in the ISIS camp, but the look wasn’t doing him any favors now.

  “Do you understand?” the colonel asked. More like shouted in the way that officers always seemed to have down pat.