Fast Lane (SEAL Team Alpha Book 16)

by Zoe Dawson

  Preacher could smell them, hear them breathe, and kept himself tucked till a boot crunched on glass.

  He popped up fast and sharp, hitting the man in the throat, his chest, and just because it pissed him off, the nuts. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  2-Stroke took out the second guy and the room was cleared.

  “Check the perimeter,” he growled.

  “I’m on it,” 2-Stroke sounded off, and he sprinted out of the room.

  Chry was already on the phone to 911 as Karasu, on her knees, leaned over Volk’s still body. She reached up to his neck and gasped out a sigh of relief. “He’s alive,” she said.

  Through a blur of activity and getting everyone out of the house, they ended up at the hospital where Volk went into surgery for the gunshot to his chest.

  Karasu had been a complete pain in the ass toward the EMTs and now the doctors. She stalked over to Preacher. “Where is this bitch?”

  “Zasha?”

  “Yes, the one who sent eight soldiers of fortune in an all-out blitz to kill a teenaged boy and his guardian.” She grabbed a hold of his shirt front and dragged his head down. There was nothing but murder in her eyes. “Where. Is. She?”

  “Last I heard, Afghanistan, Shok Valley, but she does hang out with a terrorist in Pakistan. I’m sure your people know where that might be.”

  She let go of him, but he grabbed her wrist, drawing her back. “Where are you going?”

  “To settle this once and for all and make sure that none of us need to protect Alek and Elvidin ever again from this menace.”

  They stared at each other, then Karasu’s face softened as the air around them heated with the strength of their attraction, making the very molecules tremble. Time slowed down and stopped, all sound receding to an indistinct blur. “I think about you,” she said, her voice nothing more than a rough whisper. His skin tingled as if the words themselves had brushed against him. “Too often. It’s a dangerous distraction.”

  “Then you’d better forget about me,” he rasped out, everything in him resisting the inevitable.

  She brushed the back of her fingers along his cheekbone. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  She closed her eyes briefly, her lashes thick and black against her delicate skin. “No. Not in this lifetime, Boyce,” she said, her eyes filled with desire and remorse.

  “Then I better make this good.”

  He’d been craving the taste of her since their first kiss. He’d convinced himself he must have embellished the hell out of it, because a kiss was just a kiss, right? No way could one kiss be so different, so consuming, so intoxicating…so addicting.

  As it turned out, he was wrong. Way wrong.

  Her lips were soft, and the way she caught her breath in the back of her throat, that little guttural moan, made him go instantly rock-hard. It was all he could do not to push her back against the wall and devour her whole. He wove his fingers into her hair, tilted her head so he could take the kiss deeper, half expecting her to push him away.

  Her fingers clutched his shoulders, and when her lips parted beneath his, she drew him in almost greedily. Christ, but he wanted her. Purely and fully.

  That’s when the cold water of his celibacy splashed in his face. Fuck Zen, he thought as he lifted his head, just a fraction, so he could still feel the warmth of her breath, her skin.

  She pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “Take them here. They’ll be safe.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s my place. I won’t be going back there.”

  “What about Volk?”

  “They will be here to collect him. He’ll pull through. I know him. Either way, she pays.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m tougher than he is, and I’m more than tough enough for her.”

  She wasn’t that big, that tall, but what she had was power. It pulsed through her in a steady, unending beat. Thank God. It’s what he needed to know. She would go on. “Take care of yourself, Luna.”

  Everything he was thinking was reflected in her exotic-eyed gaze, along with a measure of regret that really didn’t do a damn thing to make him feel better.

  Then she was gone as she had appeared, with neither a hello nor a goodbye…like she’d never been there, but he knew she had. He had her footsteps on his soul to prove it.

  Ruckus sat in his makeshift office with a glass of whiskey in his hand. As the leader of this team of SEALs, he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of his command. But here, in this small office, he set that mantle aside and let his fear and concern for Atticus wash over him. He took a swig of the amber liquid, and it slid down his throat, leaving a burning trail of fire. He welcomed the sensation, working at assuaging his anxiety.

  He'd known that kid since he was in high school. A tough, strong boy who had grown into a fine SEAL, he was destined to stand out. He kept tabs on him in BUD/S and heard about his portage test and the way he had saved each of his buddies on his team with a man short. It came as no surprise to Ruckus that Hemingway had shielded Milo Prescott from harm.

  He clenched his teeth, knowing that contacting Neo “2-Stroke” Teller and Ashe “Kid Chaos” Wilder was next on his agenda. Now that the wives of the three men had been notified of their wounding, the blackout had been lifted. It had taken a day to track down Shea Sinclair as she had been on assignment.

  Dodger, Pitbull, and Hemingway had landed in Germany an hour ago and taken to Landstuhl Medical Center at Ramstein Air Base. It was one of the most advanced military treatment facilities in the world, and he knew they were in good hands, but the waiting was a bitch. He’d had several calls from Fast Lane but was unable to give him any kind of update as the SEALs were just now being assessed and treated.

  He had a briefing in a half an hour to address the team about their teammates, and he was waiting for that call from Germany for an up-to-the-minute report. The Pakistan government had reached out to the State Department. They were concerned about the threat Zasha and Angar Said were posing to not only their country, but to the rest of the world. There had been a lot of blowback from not only the US, but Britain, France, and Italy. Italy was worried about another attack against the Vatican. Therefore, the Pakistanis proposed a consultation with Lieutenant Nixon and his team with the possibility of an assault. Ruckus confirmed Fast Lane would fly out after the briefing. At this point, he had replacements in mind, but he wanted to get the temperature of the remaining members before he approved their departure. They could then follow in a couple of days. He thought it would be best if Solace Mitchell was the one to fly Fast Lane. All of the members had been through hell.

  He pulled out his cell and put his call through to 2-Stroke. The man answered right away. “Neo, this is Commander Bowie Cooper.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He took his time explaining to 2-Stroke what had happened to his teammates. When he was finished, there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line. It stayed that way for a couple more seconds. “Do you have any questions?”

  2-Stroke cleared his throat, his voice uneven. “Get Zasha, Commander. She’s caused a lot of death and destruction. Please keep me posted on my teammates when you have any information. I’d get on a plane right now to Germany, but I have to protect Alek and his cousin. We’re going to an undisclosed place.” He explained what had happened and that one of the elite CIA Shadowguards was in critical condition and his partner had just left. Then he said something that shocked him. “Also, my fiancée, Chrysanthe Steele, is missing. She left the hospital sometime in the last few hours. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You’re sure she’s unharmed and it wasn’t against her will?”

  “I’m sure,” he rasped out. “She texted me not to worry and that she was sorry. She used a code that only I would recognize. I know she wasn’t coerced.”

  “I’ll make some inquiries. I have a contact at the CIA, the
wife of a former teammate. I’ll let you know whatever I find out.”

  “Thank you, Commander. I look forward to getting back on the team and working with you.”

  “Same, sailor. Watch your back.”

  He disconnected the call, concerned as hell about Officer Steele. What was that woman up to? He put that on the back burner. His next call went to Kid.

  Kid’s sleepy voice answered. “LT…I mean, Commander.”

  “Kid. Atticus has been wounded in combat. He’s in Germany.”

  “We know. Shea called us. Paige, me, and his dad just landed. We’re headed over to the medical center now.” Ruckus could hear soft tones in the background. “Do you have any information about him?”

  “I’m sorry. Not at this time, but you should be able to get an update once you arrive.” Ruckus’s throat got thick. “Take care of him, Kid. You got that?”

  “I got it, sir. You can count on us.”

  “How is Shea holding up?”

  “Shea?” Kid said with confusion. “I thought she was already here.”

  “No, not to my knowledge. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken to her in a while. It was a long flight.” Kid’s voice was filled with concern. “Fuck. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll get back to you.”

  After several inquiries, he discovered that Anna Graham and Makala Ballentine were also AWOL. He called Orion “Wicked” Cross’s wife, Kat. “Do you know anything about Anna Graham, Shea Sinclair, Makala Ballentine, and Chrysanthe Steele?”

  “Nothing I can say,” she said with a cagey sound to her voice.

  “Kat—”

  “Don’t worry, Bowie. Bitches got things to do.” The line disconnected, and he closed his eyes. Great. Just Great.

  It was dark and late in DC as Karasu’s heels clicked on the concrete of the CIA safe house…well more like a warehouse. Tap, tap, tap, the echoes of her strong stride reverberating through the large structure. Here, the screams of the woman, who was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, wouldn’t be heard.

  “Has she talked?” Karasu said to the woman who was standing in the dim light, her gray hair and otherworldly features cold and determined.

  “No. She keeps repeating that there’s been a terrible mistake.”

  “We all know there hasn’t been any mistake. You have been leaking classified information on my husband’s team for some time now. Haven’t you, Libby? A slim woman with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail came into the light. She was holding a taser. She pressed a button, and the sizzle of electricity filled the air along with the whimper of the woman hanging in front of her

  “But is Elizabeth Martin the right name?” Karasu said. It appeared that Libby wasn’t feeling as strong about her convictions as when they first dragged her in here. The blood drained from her face.

  “I’m Anna Graham, and you have been a naughty girl. You’ve been talking to that psycho, Zasha.” Anna’s gaze was glacial, and there was no question in her words. Just a statement of facts. “That’s Makala Ballentine. Anna inclined her head toward the dark-haired woman with the high, slashing cheekbones, giving away her heritage. Her husband was wounded in battle…another ambush—Zasha’s style. The woman against the wall is Shea Sinclair. Her husband was also wounded in the same ambush.”

  Anna walked up to the woman and stuck the taser against her ribcage, Anna’s face contorting in rage and pain. She pulled the trigger. Libby screamed. “My husband, Petty Officer Oliver Graham, is fighting for his life thanks to your sibling. We know who you are.” Anna looked at the woman with the gray hair. “Tell her, Chry.”

  Chry stepped closer. “I have it on good authority, with irrefutable evidence, that you are the mole. Also, we all know that you are Zasha’s sister, Oksana Vasiliev. Clever that. She hid that information quite well. But I know a world-class hacker, and he’s never let me down or steered me wrong. By the way, I’m Chrysanthe Steele. My fiancé, Petty Officer Neo Teller, and I were held captive and tortured by your sister. But we escaped with the help of your nephew, Alek. She will never succeed in killing him or his guardian. He is going to grow up an American on American soil with all the benefits of being a citizen. Who knows? Maybe he’ll even join the military and fight against terrorists like you. That’s what you did for him. Solidified his true nature and his character to fight against everything you, your sister, and your father stood for. You can choke on that.”

  “Tase her until she finds the truth in all her lies,” Makayla said, her features pulled into a hard glare. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “No, we don’t,” Shea said, her voice as cold as ice. “Talk and your death will be painless. Don’t and you will suffer. Where is Zasha?”

  The woman’s whimpering act disappeared after some time with the taser. She spat at them, her features turning into a mask of hatred. “My sister will destroy you and your men. I won’t help you in any way.”

  Karasu didn’t hesitate. She pulled the handgun from her waistband and slowly screwed on the silencer as she said, “Well, she’s not going to know we’re coming for her. Now, will she?” With a pull of the trigger, she shot the woman in the head. Then she got on the phone and called her handler. Her body would never be found. But Zasha would know her conduit was dead, including the bastard they had blackmailed at JSOC. There would be no more leaks. Now it was time for justice.

  “Ladies, let’s gear up,” Chry said, not sparing Zasha’s dead sister a glance.

  “Damn straight,” Anna said flatly. “Bitches got things to do.”

  14

  Solace cradled her ex-husband against her, and for the first time since their terrible argument, she felt right, serene, hopeful. She had hoped he could forgive her, move on in a relationship they both wanted. She hadn’t been sure, the uncertainty crushing. But she had screwed up her courage and finally said what was on her mind.

  She’d known during that whole incident with Rose that Fast Lane’s pain and rage had been so raw, but all she’d wanted to do was be there for him. Hold him through it and show him that there was nothing but love still in her heart.

  Not everything had been worked out. They still had some discussions to wade through, and she knew in her heart that her special operations days were going to have to be behind her. She wanted a relationship with Fast Lane, to live with him, to have children with him. She wanted to move on to the next phase of her life. What that would entail, she wasn’t quite sure, but what she was sure about was her love for him. It had endured everything.

  His breathing was deep and even as his chest rose and fell against her body. She absorbed the feel of him against her and the strong beat of his heart.

  She glanced down at his dive watch, the time telling her that their interlude was over. The briefing was soon, and they needed to get to TOC. There was plenty to discuss and Fast Lane would want an update about his three wounded teammates.

  She shifted and touched his shoulder gently, ready to shake him, but his eyes popped open, and he was instantly awake.

  “Babe?”

  “It’s time to get to TOC.”

  He nodded, but then sighed. “I can’t believe I’m not dreaming,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to caress her face. Gently he kissed her mouth, warm and too brief. His skin was a burnished bronze in the dim light, defining the hard ridge of muscles across his chest and shoulders, down his ripped abs. His jaw, coated in a black beard was silky looking and sexy on him.

  She smoothed her hand along his jaw, reveling in the feel of him against her palm. “I can only wonder why it took me so long to realize I’d been such a huge fool.”

  He covered her hand and rose up into a sitting position, drawing her with him. “You’re not the only one who was a fool.” He squeezed her hand briefly before slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. His voice filtered out. “I didn’t push…because I didn’t want you to get any more distant.”

  His admissio
n made her weak and breathless. She just stood there absorbing the meaning of his words. All this time. What a damn waste.

  “Solace.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, saturated in sensation, her pulse thick and heavy. He was staring at her from the open bathroom door, his wrist braced high on the frame, his face taut. His shorts fit tight against his lower body, the bulge at his groin unmistakable. He looked male, aroused, restrained—and hot. He stared at her, and Solace’s knees went weaker and weaker. His voice low and strained, he said, “Have a shower with me, babe.”

  The intent was clear, but so was the fact that he was showing his vulnerability. Unbearable feelings swelling up in her chest, she moved toward him without breaking eye contact. She couldn’t resist him. She pulled off his t-shirt that she had been wearing, dropping it on the floor.

  A muscle jerked in Fast Lane’s jaw, and he came toward her, his hot gaze drilling into her. Reaching her, he gripped the back of her neck, taking her mouth in a kiss that paralyzed her and made her knees buckle. Expelling a ragged breath into her mouth, he swept her up, then turned toward the bathroom. The room was full of steam, the water from the shower running down the opaque glass in the shower stall, and Solace hung onto him with a desperate grip. The calluses on his hands were rough against her skin as he dragged them across her buttocks, then let her slide down his body, a spasm coursing through him as she turned flush against him. Taking her mouth in another hot, deep, wet kiss, he rubbed his hands over her hips, his breathing labored, as she pushed his arms away, then slid her hands down his shoulders and arms, stripping his shorts from his body. Breathing raggedly against her mouth, he reached for her, dragging her into the shower. By the time he backed her against the wall and slipped into her, she’d been nearly out of her mind. It was a wonder they had even had time to get clean.