SEAL Hard

by J. M. Madden

  He shifted around to the second rear tire and did the same thing, then to the second van. There were three vans and he wanted to flatten all the rear tires if he could. He got to the third van and began releasing tire pressure when he heard a man begin walking toward his position. The man was grumbling, as if he didn’t appreciate being the one to retrieve the vehicle. It was easy enough to listen to him and track his position because the guy never shut up. Jack waited until the kidnapper opened the car door and began to climb in before he circled the corner of the van and walked toward him.

  “Hey, I totally agree,” he said, smiling all friendly like as he plowed a fist into the young man’s face. He crumpled instantly and Jack shoved him inside the van. Then he waited.

  It only took about a minute for a second man to come out, calling to his friend in Dari, a Persian language spoken only in Afghanistan. Jack knew enough to get around the country and a few curses, and that was about it. Right now the driver he’d knocked out was definitely being cursed.

  Jack had thrown the man into the back of the second service van and left the driver’s door open invitingly. Just as he planned, the second man leaned his head into the door and looked for driver number one. Jack walked around the vehicle and waited for the man to straighten up when he saw the empty van. As the man turned, Jack slammed his fist into the man’s nose and he went down like a ton of bricks. Grinning, Jake turned from the van and didn’t have a chance to react as he took a hard slam to his own face. The hit didn’t knock him down but the gun stock to the head did. He crashed onto his bad knee and wavered.

  “Ah, yes, I should have known,” Mustafa muttered as he circled the vehicle. “What is your name so I can add it to the list? And where is Andrea? Did you bring her with you?”

  “Fuck you.” Blood began to run down his neck from the gash in his head. “You’re going to die, you piece of shit.”

  “Language, language.” Mustafa stopped in front of him, hands folded in front of himself. “This is nothing to do with you personally, although I believe you were the one to take out my brother, yes?”

  Jack knew it was bad, but he grinned. “Oh, was that your brother at the beach? The one that cried like a baby and said his family were all hanzeer bacha for dragging him into this war?”

  Mustafa’s face hardened. “He would never say that. He supported our cause.”

  “Apparently not,” Jack laughed, “if he’s calling you sons of swine as he dies.”

  Mustafa turned to a man on his left. “Tie him up. Very well. And put him in the van with the children.”

  Mustafa spun away, obviously angry. Jack grinned at the guy that moved in on him, M4 held across his chest like he knew how to use it. This was the guy that had bashed him on the head. Yeah, Jack decided, he might have to take that gun from him. It was American military issue anyway. Reaching up, he gripped the side of the van’s door frame and pulled himself to his feet. His knee was screaming because of the position he’d been in, although it had given him perfect access to his backup weapon. Shuffling to his feet he turned and fired his backup pistol at the man’s chest. Guy was dead within seconds, a bullet through the heart.

  Jack retrieved the M4 and stashed the pistol. Men were yelling now and scrambling to take cover. He still didn’t know exactly how many had been in the office area, but it sounded like there were a few. And unfortunately, they were in there with the kids.

  There was a compact explosion and the overhead door between the two halves of the warehouse blew apart, announcing the arrival of the SEAL fire team, then Jack heard the sound of cans spinning across the floor. He slammed his eyes shut just as the flash bangs went off and the black-clad men began to move in. Flashing ‘friendly’ hand signals he ran out, weapon raised toward the office, but they beat him there. Gunfire erupted and he prayed the kids were all out of the line of fire. A SEAL went down in front of him, holding his leg. Jack took a second and dragged him out of the hallway and out the door, then he moved in behind the others.

  “There are six kids in here somewhere!” he called and got nods of acknowledgement. He had no idea who these guys were, but it was his old team. Falling into the rear position as they worked their way through the line of office doors, Jack fell into the rhythm of the routine movements. Jack thought that the door he’d seen led to a single office space. Instead, there were a bunch of them, all looking the same as the last. There was a single shooter at the end of the hall, trying to keep them back, but the forward operator took him out. Silence rang for a moment, then the gunfire started again, as if they’d reloaded.

  They were in a dangerous position here, because of the bottleneck of the hallway. Jack prayed that the kids were not within range. It also limited their ability to use grenades or any other type of explosives. With a hand signal, the lead operator sent a second operator into one of the offices and Jack heard another controlled explosion. The terrorists were now being fired upon from two different directions. He heard children screaming, then more gunfire. Jack wanted to move forward. Apparently the lead SEAL did as well. Ducking their heads they moved forward, taking out the shooter at the head of the hallway. They broke into the final room where the kids were being held and he saw blood everywhere.

  Then he heard the sound of the motorcycle starting up and taking off.

  No fucking way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As soon as they saw the SEAL Team Four fire squad move in she could tell Mike wanted to help them, to provide backup.

  “Go,” she urged. “We have no idea how many guys are inside. They could have dozens in there with the kids.”

  Mike scowled, his face torn with indecision. “An average sleeper cell isn’t that big. Jack would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m not going anywhere. This lot is deserted. Those kids need your help more than I do.”

  The part about the kids seemed to sway him and he finally nodded. “You stay in this truck.”

  “I will,” she promised. “Go help Jack and the kids.”

  Mike let himself out of the truck, gun held low and at the ready. He was halfway across the lot when she heard the explosion and gunfire. He took off into a hard, low jog, moving surprisingly well considering he was retired. Pausing at the corner, he made sure his way was clear. Just before he disappeared into the same door Jack had, he bent over and did something to the motorcycle Mustafa had come in on. Then he was gone from her sight.

  Andrea knew that the men who had responded were trained for scenarios exactly like this, but she still had to worry. More than likely the kids had had active shooter drills at school, and she hoped something they’d learned would help them in this situation. She pulled out her phone and sent Dylan a text, just in case. She let him know that the good guys were on their way in and that she was outside. She told him to keep his head down and to try to protect the younger kids.

  And Jack, well, Jack meant more to her than she thought he knew. She didn’t like that he was still taking jobs for the government, even though this one exception had supposedly been because of her. She didn’t pray very often, but she did now for his safety.

  The gunfire continued for what seemed like forever, then there was another large bang and more gunfire. Even though she was across the parking lot she could still hear everything, including the children’s screams when they started.

  Andrea tensed, knowing that she could do nothing for them here, but she would not be an asset inside the building. Not right now. Maybe after everything had settled. Should she call in an EMS squad? Or call Silas? She doubted Jack had him on the line right now. Maybe the SEALs were talking to him, or he was monitoring their radio transmissions. More than likely he had everything lined up and was just waiting on a response from his men.

  Andrea had been staring at the warehouse for so long that when she finally saw movement she didn’t really believe her eyes. There was a figure running toward the motorcycle carrying a large bag in front of him.
No, that wasn’t a bag; that was a child. There was a flash of blonde hair flying as the man climbed on the motorcycle, started it and took off through the parking lot, the little girl flailing. He passed incredibly close to where she hid as he made a big loop and for a second, their eyes met.

  Mustafa. She’d recognize his cold eyes anywhere. This was the man that had started all this mess. He’d invaded her coffee shop and ruined the security of her home, then killed a person behind her home who was trying to help her. This was the man that had kidnapped innocent children in the hopes of protecting his family or archaic beliefs. She didn’t care what his reason was. He’d abducted children. And now he was trying to keep another one from returning home.

  Andrea slid over into the driver’s seat, cranked the truck and jerked it into gear. The motorcycle was circling the building to leave. Andrea floored the gas pedal and the truck leaped forward with a roar of power. The tires squealed as she rounded the corner of the building while still gaining speed and it took all of her strength to hold the wheel. Then, suddenly, she had to slam on the brakes.

  Mustafa had wrecked into a landscaped island. The bike was on its side and he had the now unconscious blonde girl gripped in one arm. Had she been knocked out in the crash or had he knocked her out to quit her flailing? Mustafa’s second hand held a gun pointed in Andrea’s direction.

  Andrea’s heart was damn near pounding out of her chest, but she kept her eyes on the terrorist. Options ran through her head, one after another. If he wasn’t holding the girl she would try to ram him, but she doubted she would kill him, or even hit him. How did she get him to release her?

  Only one option came to mind and Jack would kill her if she did it. She saw no other way. The kids needed to be the top priority. They were innocent in all of this.

  Very carefully she lowered the window of the idling truck. “Put the girl down and you can take me,” she called. Her voice quivered, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

  Mustafa cocked his head and a chilling smile slid across his face. In that smile she saw her own slow death and the second he agreed to the transfer. He dropped the girl to the ground. Andrea fought her anger, knowing that showing him a reaction would possibly make him hurt the child more. Then he began to walk toward her, black muzzle of the semi-automatic pointed at her face.

  “Get all the way over,” he ordered her.

  Andrea shifted the truck into park and slid to the passenger side. She reached up to the oh-shit handle with her left hand and kept her right folded against the dash, her back pressed to the door. She was as far away from the driver as she could be but as soon as he climbed up into the vehicle he reached across and slapped her, hard. Andrea felt blood begin to flow from her nose and the pain would have put her on her knees if she hadn’t already been crouched.

  “Your gaze offends me, woman.”

  Well, with the tears flowing from her eyes right this second there was no way she could even look at him, so that worked out, but he couldn’t control her mouth. “You’re a piece of shit. Only bullies attack children and women.”

  “What better leverage, though, hmm?”

  Andrea gripped the handle as the truck took off. They turned right, toward the ocean. He slowed for the light but didn’t stop as they turned another right and began to pick up speed. Andrea blinked the tears from her eyes and looked at the man. He was driving with one hand and still had his weapon trained on her. She glanced out the windows to try to see where they were going. The sky was beginning to lighten and the traffic was picking up. It had to be getting close to six o’clock.

  “Why did you do all of this, kill Mann and kidnap all these kids? What was the purpose? Are you that petty, striking out against a host country just because you think it’s dirty?”

  Would he even speak to her? Yes, he would; his ego wouldn’t allow her to insult him. She kept her eye on the gun in his hand, though. She was walking a very fine line between being a hostage and a statistic.

  “You have family, yes? And you would do anything for them. That’s what the point of ‘all of this’ is. My family is under attack by your SEAL Teams. They have been hunted to the farthest reaches of the country. I am making sure they go no further. Yes, your country is dirty, but incredibly vulnerable. It is what they call a target rich environment.”

  He gave her a toothy grin. It was obvious he had enjoyed everything he’d done to this moment, and it was also obvious that she was going to be another one of his victims.

  “Your most precious commodity is protected the least. If you hadn’t interfered I would have had twelve children to kill, not just six.”

  Her blood chilled. No, he hadn’t killed them, had he? Her heart thumped against her breastbone as she thought about thirteen-year-old Dylan. If he did kill those kids, no one would be able to stop Team Ten from wiping out everything they came in contact with. Andrea hoped desperately that Silas had made sure that the team was either secluded, out of radio contact, or completely replaced and unarmed, because let loose even a platoon could wreak international havoc.

  They bounced over a set of railroad tracks and his gun arm wavered. Andrea tensed, getting ready to move, but the gun steadied again. It needed to be pointed away from her at the very least. It would be even better if he lost it completely, but she wouldn’t be holding her breath for that.

  Then came the sound of a motorcycle. She looked out the window just in time to see Jack flash past riding the bike that Mustafa had discarded. It looked tiny beneath his bulk, but he was riding it like he knew how.

  Mustafa cursed, sending her a scathing look. “You are a curse on me, woman.”

  The truck jerked and she gasped. There was a sound of crunching metal and Mustafa jerked the truck back onto the road. He’d tried to force Jack off the road or to crash, but it hadn’t worked. Instead, the truck had taken out a group of traffic signs at an intersection. Andrea tightened her hold on the handle to brace herself and tried not to get jostled around too much. She heard the motorcycle accelerating and decelerating, as if he was teasing Mustafa. If she made it out of this alive she was going to knock Jack on the head for being so reckless.

  The truck jerked and she heard the crunch of metal again. Mike’s truck was going to be beat all to hell. He head snapped into the door as he jerked the wheel and she saw stars again for a minute. There was blood on her hand, making it hard to grip the handle. It had taken conscious effort not to use her right hand to clean her face. She needed it ready.

  The truck took a mighty leap into the air and landed hard. Suddenly, they struck an immovable object. The airbag deployed, sending the left side of her face into the truck seat. Andrea struggled to see through the smoke in the cab and to Mustafa. Was he still there?

  Yes, there he was. Blood coated his face. His head rocked against the seat back, like he was fighting to rouse.

  “Andrea! Andrea! Answer me!”

  She reached for the door handle but it didn’t want to release. “I’m here,” she said, voice faint as she tried to catch her breath.

  Jack must have heard her because the door was suddenly ripped open and she was falling into his arms. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Oh, god. Where’s the blood coming from?”

  Andrea blinked. There was a blindingly white light shining on her so she had to squint to look down at herself. “I think I’m okay.” She touched her upper lip. “He hit me but it’s just a bloody nose.”

  She thought that was all, anyway. Concentrating on her toes she wiggled them, then flexed her legs. Everything seemed to be working fine and she sat up. “I’m okay, Jack. Are you okay? The kids?”

  Cupping her head in his wide hand he held her to him for a minute, then leaned back to press a kiss to her forehead. “I saw the truck leaving and about decked Mike.”

  “It wasn’t his fault, I swear. Did you get the little girl?”

  He nodded. “She’s fine. Bruised. Are you okay for a minute?”

  “I thought I saw Mike do s
omething to the bike…”

  Jack snorted. “He just turned the gas off. One little lever. I turned it back on and was ready to go.”

  “With no helmet,” she admonished.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I know, I know…Wait here. I have some trash to take out.”

  Andrea nodded and he released her. Mustafa was still in there and he needed to be either killed or contained. At one point she would have said to arrest him and put him in jail, but she had a feeling that as long as he was alive he would be trying to cause havoc. The fact that he’d hurt children over and over again swayed her vote into the kill category.

  Jack went around the back of the mangled truck. Andrea struggled to her feet, bracing herself on the tire to push up. There would be bruises tomorrow but for now she just needed to force her body to move.

  The front of the truck was totally crunched in on the driver’s side. Apparently Mustafa had struck the rear of one of the many semis waiting to turn left into the facility. Mike’s poor truck had crumpled exactly as it was supposed to and blown the airbags. She looked at her little cocoon. She’d been in the perfect spot and had protected herself accordingly.

  Jack reached in and grabbed Mustafa by the shirtfront, dragging him out of the vehicle. He cried out in pain and seemed to rouse, his dark eyes rolling, trying to make sense of what was going on. There was blood on his head so he’d struck something, and one of his legs seemed wrong, but she didn’t feel any sympathy for him. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Obviously either the crash or the previous explosions and gunfire had drawn emergency services. Silas must have made the call.

  “Don’t kill him, Jack. Silas probably wants him alive.”

  Jack scowled at her but nodded. “I won’t kill him. Might have to remind him who I am, though.”

  Mustafa grinned at Jack, mouth bloody and spat at him. “I know exactly who you are, American. You are trying to turn the tide, but it will not be turned. You have only delayed us.”