Renegade: Special Tactical Units Devision (STUD) Book 3

by Sandra Marton

  Bang! A shot rang out.

  Dec spun around and saw one of Amjad’s men go down right behind him. The shot had come from where Annie was hidden. Must have been one of the guys from Rescue Two…

  Dec swung towards the boulders. His heart damn near stopped.

  Annie was on her feet, arms extended, still holding the Glock in a two-handed grip.

  Dec shouted her name, ran to her, pried the Glock from her fingers and pulled her down to her knees with him.

  “Annie, goddammit, you could have been killed!”

  “He was going to shoot you, Declan. He was going to kill you!”

  Her teeth were chattering. Her entire body was shaking. How in hell she’d steadied the Glock long enough to take a kill shot was beyond him to comprehend.

  He cursed and gathered her against him, held her to his pounding heart.

  The guy with the hoist hit the ground right next to him.

  “Dude,” he yelled, “I gotta get the lady out of here.”

  “No,” Annie said, “no!”

  Dec knew the promise he’d made, but they were in the middle of a firefight. Getting her out was all that mattered.

  “Anoushka. Get in the hoist.”

  “Not without you!”

  Bullets whizzed by. Declan and the guy who’d descended from the Black Hawk both spun and fired. Nick and Chay raced up and joined in.

  “Get her out of here,” Dec shouted.

  “No,” Annie said. “Declan, don’t—”

  He shoved her into the hoist and secured it. The rescue guy grabbed onto the line, looked up and signaled.

  The line began to rise. Up, up, up…

  Hands reached out and pulled Annie to safety. Her rescuer vanished inside the Black Hawk with her.

  The big bird pulled away and quickly gained altitude.

  Dec stared after it. The sounds of the battle faded.

  All he could think of was Annie.

  They were separated again. But this time it wouldn’t be for long. It would take a couple of hours for the docs on the super-carrier to evaluate and stabilize her, more hours to arrange her flight home.

  He’d be with her long before that.

  Chay knocked him to the ground.

  “Dude,” he yelled, “you want to play at being a target or you want to finish these fuckers off?”

  “Amjad?” Dec asked.

  Chay shook his head. “We haven’t seen him.”

  Another burst of small-arms fire raked the ground ahead of them.

  “Go,” Dec shouted, and crouching and weaving, he and Chay ran back to deal with the remaining terrorists.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Rescue Two settled on the deck of the Harry S. Truman.

  The end of the fight had been predictable. Amjad’s pieces of crap hadn’t been able to stand up to the firepower unleashed by the guys on the Black Hawk and by those on the ground. The ones who hadn’t gone down had fled. That their leader had not been with them was a disappointment, but taking out this bunch had been a real victory. They were Amjad’s elite strike force and this had been an embarrassing defeat for him.

  Only one of the Americans had been wounded. Not really wounded—something hot had lightly traced its way across Maguire’s upper thigh.

  “Good thing it didn’t hit further up,” Danny Sullivan said solemnly. “I mean, dude, how much skin did you lose? Two inches? Translate that into man meat, hell, you’d be dickless.”

  Everybody laughed, including Dec, though his laughter was tempered by a growing sense of anxiety.

  All he could think about was Annie.

  The men clambered out of the bird and headed for one of the flight deck elevators. They were going straight to a debriefing. Dec knew he was expected to join them, not just to talk about the firefight but about what had happened to him during the last few days.

  And Stuart had ordered Dec to report to him immediately.

  All that would have to wait until he saw Annie. He needed to be sure she was okay, that the docs had begun whatever treatment she required.

  Most of all, he needed to hold her in his arms.

  The elevator doors closed. Dec reached out and hit the button for deck two.

  Alex Spanos shook his head. “That’s the medical deck. Debriefing’s on—”

  “I know. I’ll be there in five.”

  “Listen, dude, the guy running this show, this Colonel Stuart, is a real hard-ass.”

  “You’re not telling me something I don’t already know.” The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. “Five minutes, that’s all.” He looked at the faces of the men in STUD One and saw worry in their eyes. “Tell Stuart that Qaram is planning to invade Suwaith.”

  “Shit,” Chay said. “That’s not good news.”

  Dec nodded. “Tell him I’ll give him more details in five. But I promised the princess… I promised Annie…” Dec cleared his throat. “I have to see her, okay? That’s it.”

  He stepped out of the elevator. The doors shut and the remaining five STUDs looked at each other.

  “He’s got it bad,” Maguire said.

  Spanos blew out a breath. “Real bad.”

  “Remind me never to let a woman get her hooks in me,” Romano added.

  All the guys nodded. All except Chay.

  He knew this wasn’t about getting hooked. It was about finding the half of yourself you hadn’t even known was missing, and that was impossible to explain to any man who hadn’t been there, done that.

  A few months back, he’d shocked himself, shocked pretty much everybody who knew him by falling in love and getting married, which was probably why only he understood that Sanchez was willing to risk an official reprimand to make sure his woman was okay.

  Only problem was that Dec’s woman was a princess.

  You had to think that might tend to complicate things.

  * * *

  “What do you mean, she isn’t here?”

  Dec was standing toe to toe with a corpsman. The kid, nineteen on a good day and with peach fuzz trying to set up shop on his chubby baby face, was visibly intimidated.

  No surprise there.

  Dec had at least four inches in height on the boy, at least twenty pounds of muscle, and enough attitude to catapult an F-18 off the flight deck without any additional help. Plus he knew he probably smelled pretty bad—he’d been wearing the same clothes for who knew how long and now blood had been added to the stink of dirt and sweat.

  So, yeah. The kid was intimidated. And that was fine with Dec. He’d been passed from corpsman to corpsman, each one telling him no, there was no Princess Anoushka here; no Annie Stanton; no female, civilian or otherwise, who’d been brought in by helicopter during the past couple of hours, during the past week, the past month…

  Bullshit.

  Maybe this had to do with security. Yes. That made sense. Annie was a princess. She was, as Stuart had put it, at the center of an international cluster fuck.

  Dec took half a step back. He’d give the kid a little breathing room.

  “Okay, son, I get that this is a security issue. Get me the officer on duty. He’ll clear this up.”

  “Sir. This isn’t a security issue. It isn’t one because there’s no Anna Stanley—”

  “Annie Stanton,” Dec said in a dangerously flat voice.

  “That’s what I meant, sir. She isn’t here. No princesses, either. I don’t know who told you somebody like that would be here, sir, but—”

  “I’ll handle this, sailor.”

  The kid shot up straight. Dec could almost hear his heels click together.

  “Sir. Yessir.”

  Dec turned to get a look at the man who’d caused such a reaction. The guy was tall and thin, with an equally thin mouth. Hell. It was Stuart. Who else would be wearing an army uniform adorned with silver eagles on board a US Navy ship?

  “Corpsman,” Stuart barked. “Dismissed.”

  The kid started to salute, apparently realized y
ou weren’t supposed to salute indoors, managed a hoarse Yessir and scurried away.

  Stuart had not taken his eyes off Dec. His gaze was cold, focused, and accusatory.

  “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir. I came to check on the princess.”

  “Did I not order you to report to me as soon as you boarded this ship?”

  “You did, sir. But I promised the princess…”

  Stuart did a classic about-face. “Follow me,” he snapped.

  “Colonel Stuart. I was assigned a mission. It involved the welfare of—”

  The colonel swung back towards Dec. “How does ten days in the brig sound?”

  “The welfare of the princess is my responsibility!”

  “Twenty days,” Stuart snapped. “And if you think I can’t do it, just try me.”

  The man meant what he said. That was clear. Dec was almost uncontrollably angry, but what good would he be to Annie if he were locked up?

  Stuart strode away. Dec had no choice. He followed.

  Three minutes and several decks later, they were inside a small office. A desk, two chairs, a file cabinet. Nothing distinguished it from any other office Dec had ever seen except for the slim gold laptop computer that sat on the desk.

  Stuart sat down. Opened the computer and glowered at the screen. Dec stood across from him, his posture stiff. He knew that keeping him standing this way, unacknowledged and silent, was deliberate.

  Did the colonel consider himself an expert at tactical games? If he did, he’d never had a STUD for an opponent.

  Seconds passed.

  Dec kept his cool. He concentrated on thinking about Annie, what he’d tell her when they finally let him see her, how it would be when they were in California, when they began their new life together.

  “You are entitled to know that the subject of your rescue mission will recover.”

  Dec let out a breath. Stuart had yet to look up from the computer.

  “She has a bacterial infection. Something she probably picked up from the filthy conditions her captors kept her in. It has a fancy name, but it’s treatable.”

  Dec nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Silence. Stuart kept looking at the screen. Finally, he closed the computer and raised his gaze to Dec.

  “Did you actually believe you had a future with the Princess of Qaram?”

  “Is the colonel asking for a discussion of my personal beliefs?”

  “You had an order. You were to free the Americans and bring them to safety.”

  “We accomplished our mission. One American was dead by the time we reached the target. We rescued the remaining three.”

  “Did you hear what I said, Sanchez? You were to bring them to safety.”

  “Which we did.”

  “Which we did, sir.”

  Dec had been staring at the wall above the colonel’s head. Now, he brought his gaze straight to the man’s face

  “Which we did, sir.”

  “Incorrect. Five men in your unit delivered the ambassador and his wife to safety. You led the princess into further danger.”

  “I did not lead her into further danger. Sir.”

  “Did you put her on the helicopter with the ambassador and his wife?”

  Dec didn’t answer.

  “Did you instead take her into the mountains where she was attacked by a pair of killers?”

  “She was not attacked, Colonel. I dealt with—”

  “Did she spend two nights and three days in a godforsaken wilderness with you where anything could have happened to her?”

  “Colonel. You don’t know the whole—”

  Stuart shot to his feet.

  “Did you take her into a situation in which she faced capture?”

  “Goddammit, Colonel, it wasn’t like that! She begged me not to put her on the helicopter with the ambassador. She begged me not to send her back to her uncle. She—”

  “She begged you,” Stuart sneered.

  Dec could feel his face heat. “Yes. She begged me. Do you have any idea what her uncle had done to her? What he’d planned to do with her? If you’d just listen—”

  “Your mission is over, Sanchez. You and the rest of your unit are heading back to Camp Condor tonight.” The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “If you were part of my command, I would have you court-martialed, but your commanding officer has requested disciplining you be left to him. Out of respect for him, I have agreed.” Stuart took his seat and opened his computer. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  “Where is Anoushka?”

  “I said, dismissed!”

  Dec took a steadying breath. “Colonel Stuart. Where is Annie?”

  Stuart looked at Dec. “If you are as smart as your CO seems to think you are, Sanchez, you will do an about face and walk out of this room without another word.”

  “Goddammit!” Dec leaned forward and slammed his hands on the desk. “Where is she?”

  Stuart’s face turned purple. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m a man who made a promise. A STUD operative who made a promise. Where is Annie Stanton?”

  The colonel picked up his telephone. “I want Security here immediately!”

  “Where is she, Stuart? If you sent her back to her uncle, Jesus Christ, if you sent her to him—”

  The door flew open. Hands grabbed Dec’s elbows. Lifted him off his feet. Carried him backwards out the door.

  “Let go of me,” Dec snarled. “Goddammit…”

  “Shut up, Sanchez,” a familiar voice growled. “Just shut the fuck up.”

  Dec blinked. “Olivieri?”

  “Olivieri,” Chay said. “And Spanos. The others are right behind us. You keep fighting, we’ll hang onto your arms, they’ll take your feet and we’ll carry you out of here like a package. Is that what you want?”

  Dec’s shoulders slumped. “Shit!”

  “Yeah. Exactly. Maguire? Get that door.”

  Chay and Alex, with Dec locked between them and the others hard on their heels, stepped into a room. It was some kind of break room. Nothing in it but a coffee pot, a platter of doughnuts, a couple of tables and some chairs—and a surprised-looking sailor with a doughnut in her hand.

  Aidan Maguire glared at her. “Out,” he barked.

  The sailor scurried out the door. Danny Sullivan kicked it shut while Chay and Alex dropped Dec in a chair. A second later, the five STUD operatives stood around Dec in a semi-circle, all of them glowering, all with their feet apart and their arms folded over their chests.

  “Sanchez,” Spanos demanded, “what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

  Dec rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. I was a little out of line.”

  Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “A little?”

  “Stuart is an asshole!”

  The men looked at each other. “What a revelation,” Olivieri said.

  “Yeah,” Maguire said, “we can always count on Sanchez to figure out the tough stuff.”

  “He’s also a colonel connected to the DOD, to State, to CIA and NSA…dammit, he’s probably got a hotline straight into the Oval Office.” Romano shook his head. “He didn’t just want to throw you to the wolves, Dec, he wanted to stand by and watch them rip you apart.”

  Dec rested his arms on his thighs and looked down at the floor.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You guess? You guess?”

  “Okay. You’re right.” Dec looked up. “You guys saved my ass.”

  Olivieri shook his head. “Black saved your ass.”

  “Black?”

  “Stuart contacted him. Told him you were—what’s the quote, Danny?”

  “An undisciplined, dangerous, out-of-control misfit psychologically unsuited to remain in the service.”

  “But I added that you were a handsome devil,” Aidan said.

  The lame joke broke the tension. Everybody laughed,
even Dec. Then his laughter faded.

  “Fuck,” he said softly.

  “Fuck’s the word, dude.” Spanos rolled his eyes. “Black said yup, you were all that and more.”

  “Great.”

  “But he also said you had a chest full of fruit salad and he knew Stuart wouldn’t want the press to somehow learn that an army officer who’d washed out of Delta Force twenty years ago had brought charges against a highly decorated Special Ops hero.”

  Dec sat up straight. “What?”

  Romano shrugged his shoulders. “Seems our captain and the colonel knew each other way back when.”

  Dec grinned. “Go figure.”

  “Exactly. Go figure.”

  More silence. Then Dec looked from one of his buddies to the other. Each of them made eye contact and then looked away. He figured the question he was going to ask might as well have been tattooed on his forehead.

  “Where is she?” he said softly.

  Throats were cleared. Feet were shuffled. Looks were exchanged.

  “Chay? Where’s Annie?”

  Chay Olivieri sighed. “They never brought her here, Dec. They flew her straight to Qaram.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Unit One was on American soil less than eighteen hours later.

  The five members who’d gotten out with the ambassador and his wife had reported to their captain by Skype three days ago.

  Now he wanted another report. On the firefight? Maybe, but they all doubted it.

  This would be about what had gone wrong on their primary mission.

  Everybody knew it.

  Black texted them while they were heading home. He said they’d have twenty minutes to shower, change clothes, grab coffee—whatever they could do in that time frame—and then report to his office.

  He was waiting for them in the big, handsome room that had once been the library in what had once been a palatial private residence on the beach. The view out the windows was incredible: the long stretch of sand, the blue Pacific, waves lapping against the shore.

  The room might as well have been a janitor’s closet for all anybody cared.

  The only sound was the low hum from a ceiling fan rotating slowly overhead.

  Normally, you’d stand before Black’s desk when you were summoned here. “At ease,” Black would say, or he might just wave a hand at one of a pair of chairs drawn up to the desk.