The Lone Warriors: Intro to Navy SEALS Romances 2.0

by Daniel Banner

  Maddox already had his ear in place so he’d be able to hear. The other guys kept up the banter, but Maddox kept his ear bent.

  “Right after sunset. The party is a go.”

  Tonight! Sunset was less than an hour to go, and when the guards came to move them, the plan would spring.

  Logan and Blaine were right. They were not dying here.

  A guard came in and threw flatbread into each cell. Another followed with a pitcher of water, offering each man a single draw from a ladle. The water was riper than usual. Maddox could only describe it in a travel review as, If you enjoy risk-taking when you travel, the water here will give you all you want. It has flavor and texture you’ve never experienced in water before! Rancid and thicker than syrup.

  The bread was never bad, but there wasn’t enough of it to satisfy a man of Maddox’s size, and eating the same thing day in and day out was very old. Maddox basically ate it out of rote now.

  “Hey, Jace,” said Maddox. “That party you’re planning. What’s the probability you pull it off?” Maddox had been the key planner, but Jace would be the first to act.

  “It’s 50-50.” Apparently Jace had already run his probability method on the escape. “Too many unknowns to get any more specific.”

  An unbidden slither snaked down Maddox’s spine as he clenched his fist. If the escape didn’t work, things could get a lot worse for them all. And it would be on Maddox’s head because he’d orchestrated the plan. Their captors might kill them in retribution for the trouble of hunting them down and dragging them back. Or worse. Maim them. He shuddered, thinking of the torture he’d already endured at the hands of the captors. As SEALs, they were trained for these types of situations, but nothing could prepare a man for the agonizing experience of living through it. He swallowed, terror streaking through him.

  Get a grip! he commanded himself. The only way out of this thing was to ignore his fears. At least he wasn’t alone. He had his brothers with him. Together, they could do it!

  “Is everything in place, everybody?” asked Blaine.

  “No,” said Creed.

  Maddox was worried. What could have gone wrong? He could feel the tension pouring from the other SEALs as well.

  “Almost dark,” said Creed. “Time to pray.”

  Oh, that. Maddox let out a sigh of relief.

  Every night the SEALs prayed together. In the beginning of their imprisonment, their captors mocked and shouted and tried to distract them every time they noticed the closed eyes and folded hands of prayer. When Quazi was around, he would go inside the cell and beat them. Over time, when the SEALs didn’t budge, the terrorists gave up and ignored it. Except for Quazi, who would shout and poke them if they were too close to the front of the cell.

  “Dear Lord,” said Creed. “We thank you for bread and water, for air and life. Watch over our families. Protect freedom everywhere. And please bless Maddox’s party. Amen.”

  Barely audibly, the SEALs chuckled as they said their amens. Despite the undertones of levity, Maddox could sense the emotion and truth behind the coded prayer and in the amens of the guys. They all knew the stakes had never been higher.

  “I recalculated,” said Jace. “60-40.”

  Maddox didn’t know if he was joking or not. As far as he knew, prayer had never figured into Jace’s probability method before.

  Turning back to his dinner, Maddox watched the shadows deepen.

  Jace would be making his way into Blaine’s cell through the hole under the wall he’d been working on for weeks. The crazy guy had dug in the hard-packed dirt with nothing more than his fingernails. He’d still be in a cell, but with two guys together, they could pull off the beginning of the plan. Hopefully.

  It was probably a good thing they’d been on light rations. Jace wasn’t a small guy. The new, skinny Jace could probably fit through a hole the old Jace wouldn’t be able to squeeze one leg through. On both sides of the wall, they’d been careful to keep their thin blankets over the hole Jace had made. And right now, Jace was probably hiding in a dark corner under a blanket on Blaine’s side of the wall.

  The door to the prison burst open. Maddox couldn’t see it from his position, but he heard the raspy yelling in Arabic of Quazi’s voice. That would be orders for Creed, since he was in the first cell, to take the bag they’d thrown in his cell and put it over his head. Two guys would lead him out—one with a club to do the prodding and one with a gun to stand back in case Creed gave him trouble.

  Maddox said a silent prayer for Creed’s safety, because once everything went down, Creed would be the most vulnerable.

  It was a blessing that Quazi was directing the movement of the SEALs. They needed someone inflammatory to elevate the scene quickly.

  A cell door squeaked open, and Creed said, “See you fellas in the next hotel.”

  A few seconds passed, enough time for them to get Creed outside.

  Then Blaine started whistling. When Maddox recognized the tune, he started laughing. Blaine was whistling Yankee Doodle Dandy.

  This would be another test of Maddox’s knowledge of Syrian folklore and superstitions.

  Quazi ran up to Blaine’s cell. Maddox saw him smack the bars with his club and shout something.

  Oh, what a relief. Whistling after dark really did attract bad spirits and jinn, at least in this part of the world. On an important night like tonight, when the terrorists were taking half a dozen high profile prisoners into the air, any aspersions on their luck would be quickly suppressed.

  Blaine kept whistling, ignoring the demands of Quazi, who was now fumbling with keys to open the cell door. Another guard, this one holding a gun stood a step back, covering Quazi. They appeared to be the only two guards in the prison at the moment.

  Hurry, hurry, hurry, thought Maddox, wishing for the first time that Quazi would get in there quickly.

  Quazi finally got the cell door open, and rushed inside. Blaine’s whistling continued even as blow after blow from the club sounded against his skin. Maddox had felt the impact of it before and he admired Blaine’s incredible toughness to continue the ploy through the beating.

  The guard with the gun moved slowly forward, closer and closer to the cell, also shouting at Blaine to cease and desist. As soon as he stepped into the doorway, Maddox heard the sounds of a struggle. Jace had sprung into action, surprising the guard with the gun.

  The sounds of the beating stopped. Quazi, their loud, sadistic tormentor, was no match for Blaine’s hand-to-hand combat, even in his exhausted, beaten-down state. Quazi was done persecuting the SEALs forever.

  A second later, Jace darted out of the cell. With keys he’d taken from Quazi, he unlocked Baron’s cell. Baron came out, wearing only his filthy underwear. Jace closed Baron’s cell and both men ducked into Blaine’s cell. A few seconds later, a man wearing black baggy pants and a black sweatshirt came out of the cell. His head was wrapped, revealing only his eyes, and he held a pistol.

  For a second, Baron’s disguise had fooled Maddox.

  Baron went to the door of the prison while Jace and Blaine crept behind him and hid inside Creed’s open cell. In the interest of time, they wouldn’t free Maddox and Logan quite yet, just in case the other guards came back in.

  In a voice Maddox didn’t even recognize, Baron shouted something out the door in Syriac. According to the plan it was, “Help me over here.”

  The sound of footsteps entering, then Baron said something else. More sounds of a quick struggle as Jace and Blaine emerged and took down two more guards. Maddox wished he could see, but the view from cell six was the worst of them all. That was definitely going in his online review of this place.

  The plan was to take as many down as possible—permanently—inside the prison before going outside into the unknown, and it seemed to be going well, if Maddox could believe his ears. A minute passed with Maddox in the dark.

  Some more footsteps, and he could barely see two more guards in the hallway, standing in front of Baron’s empty ce
ll, number two. Another struggle ensued, this one a bit louder than the previous, but over quickly.

  “I’m going outside,” said Baron.

  A few seconds later, Jace was at Maddox’s door, unlocking it. Maddox couldn’t get out fast enough. Logan had already been freed.

  The four men inside the prison took the sweatshirts and baggy pants from the guards and put them on. Maddox, at 6’ 3” felt like he was wearing little kid clothes. He wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny. Their arsenal consisted of two guns and two billy clubs. It would have to be enough.

  A guard came in, holding one hand behind his head. They’d worked out the signal to be able to tell real guards from SEALs in guards clothing. It was Baron. Creed followed Baron in.

  Yes! If Creed was back inside that meant the SEALs had control of the situation.

  Jace, in his terrorist clothes, went outside to stand guard.

  “Is my plane ready?” asked Logan rubbing his hands together. Piloting was a fascination of his. If he hadn’t made it into the SEALs, Logan would have gone into another branch of the service where he could fly. Since the SEALs relied on other units for transport, none of them were experts. But for Logan, aviation was more than a passing interest, even though he never had a chance to actually fly.

  “There’s no plane,” announced Baron.

  All of the SEALs froze.

  “You said they were going to fly us out of here,” said Blaine.

  “Come see,” said Baron.

  As planned, all of their guards were sleeping permanently inside the prison. The area outside should be clear. The immediate area.

  Maddox was the last one out and saw immediately what each of the men stopped to stare at. A quarter mile away sat an old, unmarked helicopter.

  All eyes were on Logan. He said, “Adapt and overcome.”

  “How much adapting?” asked Maddox.

  “A moderate amount,” said Logan.

  “Do you know how to fly one of those?” asked Blaine.

  “Yeah,” said Logan with a confident nod of his head. “Theoretically.”

  Creed asked, “What does theoretically mean? It’s either yes or no.”

  “I’ve never actually flown a helo,” said Logan. “But I’ve studied it. And I’m a pro at Flight Sim on Xbox.”

  Jace was already heading to the passenger van waiting nearby. “I call shotgun!” He wasn’t kidding around; he was ready to jump into the death trap with someone who only had hypothetical knowledge of how to fly it. The closer Jace came to dying, the more fun that guy had.

  The other SEALs followed Jace. It said a lot about how bad the last three months had been that they were willing to jump in a helicopter with an unproven, self-taught pilot than to stay.

  Baron was driving the van as Jace’s head swiveled as his lookout. It was full-on nighttime and no one was moving except for the SEALs in the van. Maddox and Logan were sitting on the next row of seats.

  “Which direction should we fly?” asked Logan.

  “That way,” said Maddox and Jace together. Then, again in unison, “North.”

  Baron said, “You’re thinking Turkey?”

  “Yeah,” said Maddox and Jace at the same time.

  Baron nodded. “I agree.”

  Maddox did too. “Not really our ally, but not an enemy. Better odds than if we went any other direction.”

  They reached the chopper and found it unguarded.

  “What do you think?” asked Maddox as Logan was getting settled in the cockpit. He noticed none of the labels on any instruments were in English. Then again, most of the labeling had worn off years ago.

  Without looking up, Logan smiled, making that dimple sink in his cheek. “I’m wondering if Turkish women are pretty?”

  Jace said, “Compared to your ugly mugs, any woman is pretty.”

  The rotors started to turn.

  Maddox felt so vulnerable on the helipad. What if they hadn’t given a signal or cleared takeoff or something? A ground-to-air missile could end their flight before it ever started. One misstep by Logan could end this self-rescue faster than a battalion of enemy soldiers.

  Time dragged as the rotors got louder. A solid two minutes later, the helicopter rose slowly and wobbly from the ground. The SEALs continued holding their breaths and watching all directions. Maddox wished they had something more substantial than two tiny pistols.

  With a jolt, the chopper shot forward, leaving Maddox’s stomach a mile behind them. The camp where they’d been held disappeared. No sign of anyone following them.

  Whooping filled the headsets. Maddox patted the backs and high fived the guys he could reach.

  Logan was the hero of the moment, at least until it came time to land this beast. Into the headset he said, “Told you we weren’t dying here.”

  “That’s right, you genius you,” said Blaine. “Now get us home. Creed and I have unfinished business.”

  Maddox didn’t have any idea whether the women Blaine and Creed had Dear Janed would still be around. Poor saps. Maddox knew firsthand how painful a breakup could be.

  His thoughts went to his family. Feelings of joy and relief flooded him, knowing that he’d see his parents, brothers, and sister.

  Addie. Would she be glad to hear that he was okay? An image of her flashed through his mind—long curly hair, sparkling eyes, and vivacious smile. She was a firecracker, all spit and vinegar, yet sweeter than honey on the inside. The longing for her was nearly overwhelming. Did he dare contact her again? She’d made it crystal clear that she wasn’t the doting, long-suffering type who would spend her life waiting for a man to come back from battle. Maybe it was better to let the past stay in the past.

  Then again, he’d cheated death, had a new lease on life. If he could win Addie back, he’d score the jackpot. He grinned, shaking his head. Addie had done a number on him. She was hard to forget. His brush with death was making him as reckless as Jace. If he did go back to Addie and pour out his heart, she’d most likely laugh him to scorn and send him packing. He looked down at the barren landscape of beige and muted brows as far as the eye could see. “On to greener pastures,” he murmured, pushing away thoughts of Addie as he leaned back against the seat.

  He didn’t have any idea what the world held in store for him. After three months of captivity and mistreatment and living in a five-foot by eight-foot world, everything else seemed infinitely big.

  For now he was just happy being cooped up in a bird with his five heroes.

  Baron — The Honest Warrior

  Baron Luzader stared up into the faces of his interrogators and clenched his jaw. Sweat poured down his face and he felt his breathing pick up. He’d already said too much and each word they dragged out of him came like knives that tore him apart.

  He had to get out of here. Right now.

  What would happen if he just bolted? What could they possibly do to him at this point?

  Calm down, Baron told himself. This is a debriefing, not a torture session.

  It’d been mere hours since the SEALs had been extracted from Turkey and nearly every minute since then people were in Baron’s face, trying to get him to talk.

  Baron pushed away from table and stood. “You want more? Read my report.” He slammed the door open and walked down the hallway searching for an exit. When he finally spotted one, he had to keep himself from running toward it.

  Warm darkness surrounded Baron when he burst out of the command center and he drank in half a dozen deep breaths. Thankfully, no one followed him.

  No one understood the importance of good intel like Baron did, but after being through what he’d been through for three months, he couldn’t just open up and spill everything. A concise, detailed written report would be much more useful. The night, the open air were both comforting and frightening. As long as no one tried to pry his mouth open and drag words out of him, he would stay put.

  Baron never had been much of a talker. He got that from his dad. It had worked well with Steph because s
he was never at a lack for what to say, even though a lot of what she said was just fluff to fill the dead air. For the last three months Baron’s reticence had served him well. Through all of the torture he’d endured, the only information his captors got from him was name, rank, and serial number.

  Baron Luzader. Petty Officer 2nd Class. 5822009321. Even in his dreams he rarely said more than that.

  If Baron had it his way, he’d never speak to another person his whole life.

  A door opened from the barracks and Creed came out and stood next to Baron, looking up at the few stars bright enough to overcome the light pollution of the base. If anyone came looking for him, Baron expected it to be Blaine, who was the guy always keeping everyone close at the first sign of splintering within the group.

  Creed said, “How’d it go?”

  Baron just grunted and kept looking up at the sky. There had been a medical check-up, showers, a huge meal, then a quick group debriefing, followed by individual interrogation sessions. Baron had held out as long as possible, deciding to go last of the six SEALs. While each man went individually, the others read through three months of letters and emails from back home. Actually, since they’d been presumed dead for two and a half of those months, it was more like two week’s worth of letters, plus some infrequent emails from family members who refused to believe the SEALs weren’t coming home.

  The only thing new in Baron’s world—other than being unattached again—was his parents had decided to sell the family business. His sisters, all with families and careers of their own, wouldn’t be able to help, so his parents were tackling it all on their own.

  “We got some hair clippers in there,” said Creed. “Logan doesn’t have much hair left at this point, so we should be able to get the clippers away from him soon.”

  Baron let out a light chuckle and walked toward the building. He’d be safe in there; the guys wouldn’t make him talk.

  “You should try talking,” said Creed. “Open up. Let it out.”

  Not likely, thought Baron, hoping the pressure to speak wasn’t a sign of things to come.