Off the Grid

by Monica McCarty

  He’d then proceeded to question her about what she knew about John and his mission. When she didn’t give him an answer he liked—which was most of the time—he struck her across the face.

  “Wrong answer.”

  “I can’t tell you something I don’t know. John didn’t tell me anything.”

  One of the four other men she’d seen going in and out of the room—the guy who was looking at her computer—came over and whispered something in Mick’s ear that caused him to hit her again. This time with his fist on her cheek with enough force to draw blood.

  She’d been trying not to make a sound, conscious of people listening, but she couldn’t stop herself from crying out this time. She saw stars—or more accurately, black spots and flashes of light.

  “You’re lying,” he said. “We just found the unpublished article on your computer. You know the one to which I’m referring—the one where you mention survivors. Who are they?”

  Obviously, her rudimentary attempt to hide her articles hadn’t been much of a deterrent, but her paranoia hadn’t extended to this type of situation. God, what had she done?

  “If you were spying on me you should know that I made that up. I lost my job because of it. Didn’t you read the paper?”

  “Your boyfriend’s alive. Were you lying about that, too? Why shouldn’t I believe there were others?”

  “Even if there were, do you honestly think he would have divulged information like that to me?”

  “Then what reason do I have to keep you alive?”

  “None.”

  He laughed at her bravado. “No. There you are wrong. I suspect your boyfriend will be much more forthcoming with information when you are the one suffering for his answers.”

  “He isn’t my boyfriend. If you were watching me as you say, you would know that.”

  He shrugged indifferently. “Maybe not. But for your sake, I hope you are wrong or you are going to have a very long and unpleasant death.”

  Brittany was doing her best to be brave, but there was nothing she could do to stave off the chill of terror at the thought of being tortured to death. But he’d just given her the opening she needed to convey to anyone who was listening the number of men she’d seen. “Are you sure it won’t be your death?” She looked around. “I hope you have an army hiding on this ship. Five men versus one SEAL aren’t very good odds.”

  Mick just laughed. “I think I like my odds—even with a broken wrist.” He held up an impressive-looking gun, which he’d pulled from his waist, and pressed it to her temple.

  But her terror turned outward when she heard a voice on a radio. “He’s here.”

  Mick radioed back. “Is he alone?”

  A pause. “Looks that way.”

  “Make sure. Then bring him over. Search him first. Search him well.”

  Mick’s men were watching the warehouse from the ship, ready to unload if John attempted a rescue. But he’d come alone. Exactly as she’d warned him not to.

  She prayed Mac had gotten her message and was listening. But she dared not check the phone in her pocket.

  God, what if she’d accidentally turned it off with the moving around?

  As much as she didn’t want to see him, Brittany couldn’t prevent her heart from leaping to her throat when John was led into the room. He still managed to look intimidating, even with his hands zip-tied behind his back and being led in at gunpoint by one of the men who’d been in the room earlier.

  None of the other men had spoken to her directly, but from what she’d heard, they spoke English as well as Russian. With the tattoos and leather, they looked more like Russian Mafia than soldiers, but from what she knew of the Russian Mafia, that might not be a good thing.

  John didn’t even glance in her direction. He kept his eyes fixed on Mick.

  He must be furious with her for getting him into this. She wanted to apologize. Wanted to tell him she was sorry for not listening to him. Sorry for writing that stupid article in the first place. She’d never meant for anything like this to happen.

  “I’m here,” John said calmly. “Now let her go.”

  Mick laughed. “Right. You didn’t really think that was going to happen?”

  John held his stare. “No.”

  “And still you came alone?”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “You could have left her to her fate. It’s what you should have done.”

  There was a soft thud outside the door. Mick’s head turned at the same time as the door opened.

  “And you should have brought more men,” John said as the room exploded in gunfire. Brittany was pushed from the chair to the ground as John launched himself between her and Mick.

  * * *

  • • •

  Two SEALs—one with his hands tied and no weapons—against five armed guys wasn’t exactly best-case-scenario territory, but it was a damned lot better than the worst-case scenario John had been facing before he’d received the call from Brittany’s mysterious friend, who’d only identified herself as Mac.

  Mac had been the one to give Brittany that tracking program attached to the photo.

  She’d also—thank God—given Brittany a burner phone that Brittany had managed to access. It not only pinpointed where she was being held, but it had also given Mac an inside voice into what was happening on the ship. Brittany’s voice.

  Mac had been feeding him information, but John realized that she’d been keeping information from him. Like Brittany getting the crap beaten out of her.

  John hadn’t trusted himself to look at her, but even out of the corner of his eye he’d seen her bloodied cheek and bruised face.

  He was relieved when he heard the body drop outside and knew that the LC had successfully snuck onboard—for a SEAL there wasn’t a better place to rescue a hostage than a ship—as he was having a hard time not launching himself at the bastard who’d hurt her.

  He hoped Buddha and his crew weren’t far behind, but for now it was just John and the LC.

  They had the advantage of surprise. Mick and his crew had anticipated a rescue attempt at the warehouse, not on board the ship, as they didn’t realize John knew where Brittany was actually being held.

  With his hands tied behind his back, John used his body like a battering ram, knocking the bastard off his feet and into the wall. He followed with a kick to the head that landed with a satisfying crunch.

  John heard the sound of two shots behind him and knew that the LC had taken care of the two other guys. “The big one,” John said, turning over his shoulder. “He has a knife.”

  The LC fumbled around while John kept his foot on Mick’s neck. He was unconscious, but the LC wanted him alive. A few seconds later, the LC had the knife and John’s hands were free.

  “He’s mine after you are done with him,” John said to the LC. He was already heading toward Brittany when the LC nodded.

  The next few moments were a blur. John cut the zip ties that had been used to bind her feet and arms, and then she was in his arms. He didn’t know what he was saying; all he knew was that she was safe.

  “God, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I love you so much. I never should have left.”

  The bruised and bloody face that looked up at him was filled not with wonder and happiness at his words but with outrage. “You have got to be kidding me. I’ve been waiting for five years to hear those words out of Mr. Good Times’ mouth and now you say them? In a room full of dead guys and me looking like this?”

  John tried not to smile, but it was damned hard. “I think you look beautiful.” He stroked her bruised face gently with the pad of his thumb. “These will heal, but you are alive.”

  She was trying not to smile, too, but her eyes were glistening with tears. “If you think you are getting away with telling me you love me like that, you are more crazy than he
is.” She waved at Mick, who was being interrogated by the LC.

  From the look of anger on the LC’s face, he didn’t seem to like what the bastard was saying.

  “Should I hire a marching band?”

  “That would be a good start.” Her expression softened, the teasing slipping away. “I was thinking more along the lines of you cooking dinner, a glass or two of wine, and . . .” She leaned up to whisper something in his ear that sounded really good.

  He couldn’t wait to get her in bed again and show her how good.

  “You’re on.” But he wasn’t going to let himself off the hook as quickly as she had. When he thought . . . He shuddered. “God, when I think of what you’ve gone through. I’m so damned sorry.”

  “I heard what he said to you,” Brittany said. “He didn’t rape me.”

  John was relieved she’d escaped that. But her poor face. His chest squeezed as he wiped some of the blood from her cheek. “He’s still going to pay for this.” He gave her a long look. “I really do love you, Brit.”

  “I know.” She gave him a wistful smile. “I just wasn’t sure you ever would.” Suddenly her expression changed. “Oh no!”

  “What?” he asked.

  But she was already pulling her phone out of her pocket as she said, “Mac, are you still there?” Pause. “Oh my God, I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you.” She listened for a while before turning back to him. “She thinks I let you off too easily.”

  He lifted a brow.

  Brittany grinned. “She said you should be crawling naked with the marching band and twirling a baton.”

  He was about to reply with a joke that any guy would make when hearing the word “baton” in the same sentence as “naked,” but that’s when the room exploded for the second time.

  They’d made a mistake. There were six guys, not five. The LC had cleared the ship, but there must have been another guy keeping watch from the warehouse. Maybe one of the guys had warned him on the radio before being killed. John didn’t know. All he heard was the shot from the door, and the LC’s grunt of surprise as he went full plank to the floor.

  Before John could grab the LC’s gun and take down the shooter, there was another shot from outside. The shooter fell.

  John had the gun in his hand and aimed at the door when a woman ran through it. Fortunately, he recognized Kate and the man who came in after her—his former chief, Colt Wesson—before he pulled the trigger.

  She screamed when she saw Taylor lying on the ground and ran toward him. “Oh God, Scott, no!”

  Colt came to a sudden stop as if he’d just run full speed into the proverbial brick wall.

  Which was why it was John who reacted when Mick raised a gun and pointed it toward Kate.

  John fired. He heard Brittany cry out as the bullet hit Mick right between the eyes, taking a good portion of the top of his head along with it.

  She buried her head against him and sobbed. John comforted her even as his gaze met the LC’s.

  “I’m okay,” Taylor said.

  “No, you aren’t,” Kate said. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

  Kate turned to Colt, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You were a corpsman. Do something to help him.”

  Colt looked as if he’d just seen a ghost. Two ghosts actually. “You let me think they were dead. All this time. How could you fucking do that?”

  “Because I asked her to,” the LC said. His face was getting paler, and despite his protestations, John suspected it wasn’t just a flesh wound.

  Kate was getting more and more upset. “Are you just going to stand there and watch him die? Do something. For God’s sake, Colt, do something. Please.”

  John wasn’t a corpsman, but they all had some medical training. He started to look around for supplies.

  Colt stopped him. “There should be a medical bay somewhere. See what you can find.” He rattled off a list of items to look for as he knelt down and started to help Kate pull off Taylor’s shirt.

  John started to tell Brittany he’d be right back, but she shook her head. “I’m coming with you. I want to help.”

  The commercial fishing vessel didn’t have a medical bay, but in one of the storerooms they found most of what they needed. By the time John and Brittany returned with the supplies, Colt had already stopped the bleeding and the LC looked much better.

  John helped him as Colt used what they’d found to clean out the wound—the bullet had gone straight through his shoulder—and bind it.

  “Good to have you back, Dynomite,” Colt said as they finished up.

  “Good to be back, Chief,” John said. Colt might not be on the Team anymore, but he was still a SEAL.

  They helped Taylor get to his feet. “Thanks,” Scott said to Colt.

  There was an awkward pause as the two men who had once been as close as brothers exchanged a long look. John didn’t know exactly what had happened, but what he suspected didn’t reflect well on the LC.

  Colt shrugged in explanation. “She loves you.”

  His words seemed to make Taylor angry. He turned to Kate. “This has gone on long enough. He still loves you. Tell him. There isn’t a reason to keep it a secret anymore. If you don’t, I will.”

  Kate’s mouth thinned with defiance. John thought she might argue. But after exchanging a glance with Taylor, she must have seen that he meant what he said. “Of course I love him,” she said to Colt. “Scott is my brother.”

  Well, motherfucker. John let out a low whistle of surprise. That was the last thing he would have expected to hear. Who would have thought?

  Apparently not Colt. He looked as if he’d just been the one to get shot.

  Brittany nudged John and gave him a “what’s going on?” look. He shook his head, signaling that he’d fill her in later.

  It was at that point that the cavalry arrived. Buddha and the other hired operators would see to the cleanup. “Go,” Colt said to them. “I’ll take it from here. The fewer people that see you, the better until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

  “I’ll take them to my place,” Kate said.

  “What about the ambassador?” Colt asked.

  “He’s gone,” Kate said.

  Colt nodded with an even more grim set to his mouth, and John suspected his former chief was having a hard time assimilating the information coming at him. John didn’t blame him. John wouldn’t want to be him right now. Colt had fucked up—fucked up big-time, from what John could tell—and now he’d have to pay for it.

  John had been in the same position an hour ago, and it wasn’t fun. But even if it took the rest of his life, he would make it up to Brittany.

  “Is it over?” Brittany asked. She’d washed most of the blood off her face, and Colt had fixed her up with a few butterfly bandages. John was relieved to see the cut wasn’t too bad. The bruises would fade. But he knew the memories were going to be harder to erase.

  He took her into his arms and kissed her. He knew what she meant: was it safe for him to come out of hiding? He wasn’t sure yet. But Mick’s involvement pointed to Russia being behind the leak. “I sure as hell hope so.”

  “Can we go home?”

  Home. He knew exactly where that was going to be. “Soon, sweetheart,” he said with a kiss. “Very soon.”

  Thirty

  I could definitely get used to working like this.

  Brittany set her computer down for a moment, not only to take a sip of wine but also to enjoy the view. It didn’t get much better than the ocean at sunset from a rooftop deck with a gentle breeze sifting through the warm California air.

  Since she’d arrived, her story seemed to be writing itself. She just may get that Pulitzer yet. Although that had never been what it was about. It had been about finding the truth, and she’d done tha
t. Since she no longer had a job, she decided to tackle her next story freelance. Although, thanks to Kate, the door was open if she wanted to go back to the Chronicle. Kate had spoken to Jameson and explained that for national security reasons Brittany had had to bury the story, but as soon as they had the okay, she would have the exclusive.

  But Brittany wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. The freelance idea had merit—especially if that meant she could stay in California. For almost a week Brittany had been in San Diego at Brandon’s old beach house, which unbeknownst to her, he’d bought a few years ago. There were so many things she didn’t know about her brother, but she hoped John would help fill in the blanks for her when he arrived later tonight.

  Brandon had rented the beach house out to some of the local SEALs while he was stationed in Hawaii, but he’d planned to come back to it someday. Now, with his death, it belonged to her. As the SEALs who were renting it out were currently deployed overseas, John thought it was the perfect place for her to recuperate while he and the other survivors decided how to handle the discovery that Russian agents were apparently behind the failed mission.

  No one knew she was here. Although Mick was dead and appeared to have been acting alone, she still had a couple teams of SEALs looking out for her. John hadn’t been able to call in favors, as he was still supposed to be dead, but his former chief, Colt Wesson, had done so on his behalf. The guys stationed at the base in Coronado were only too happy to keep any eye on a former Teamguy’s sister.

  Brittany thought it was one of them “stopping by to check in on her” when the doorbell rang.

  It was UPS, and whatever it was required a signature. She signed illegibly, and the delivery guy came back with two big boxes. One was addressed to the family of Brandon Blake and the other to the family of John Donovan. They’d been sent from the base in Hawaii.

  Brittany reeled back as if she’d just slammed her recently healed face into the door, realizing it was their personal effects.