Fast Lane (SEAL Team Alpha Book 16)

by Zoe Dawson

  “Time to crash the party,” Mak said and held up one finger, indicating the minutes remaining until the jump. As they performed an equipment check on each other, someone made a crack about the wisdom of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane at twenty thousand feet, at night, into unfamiliar territory.

  Adrenaline pumped through her veins until Anna thought she’d explode, and despite the frigid temperatures, she was sweating. It all came down to this, she thought, a leap from a speeding aircraft.

  The belly of the plane suddenly knocked against a wind draft as she snapped on a fresh cylinder and readjusted the black oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Inhaling the bottled air, she drew the black thermal hood down over her head, the comms, and the mask—shifting oval eyeholes into place before tucking the free edge in the high neck of her jumpsuit. The four women settled black helmets over their heads. Anna’s fit snugly, and she looked over at Chry, knowing the woman was calculating aircraft speed, wind speed, bail, and the acceleration of their free fall to target. Accuracy was essential. It was a one-time shot. A do or die moment.

  Equipped with a helmet and oxygen mask for the cabin decompression when the belly of the plane opened, Chry gave Anna the heads up for the jump. All conversation ceased as she flipped the helmet’s transparent black windshield down over her eyes. Seconds later, Chry gave the signal and the crewman motioned for them to hook on and line up.

  Icy wind filled the cabin, whipping around them like slashing blades. Violent, daring, the hard suck of air pulling on their eardrums. Anna shivered on instinct, yet the close-fitting jumpsuit insulated her with its toasty fabric.

  The CIA had some good shit.

  Yawning to pop her eardrums, she rechecked the placement of her oxygen before she stepped to the hatch. Her boots on the edge, she positioned herself in anticipation of pushing off into free fall. Wind shrieked around her like the howl of a banshee. Below lay endless sky, risk, an uncertain fate. For more than just her partners in this scheme and her friends and family.

  Mak reached to crack the cylindrical Chem-Lite attached to her rip ring, then pointed unnecessarily to the two domed lights alongside the hatch.

  Anna waited for the green light, growled, “Geronimo,” then leaped, free-falling twenty thousand feet.

  The wind shear drove them upward, biting into the matte black jumpsuits. Anna heard only the beat of her heart, her breathing, and the whistle of her body rushing through the air toward the rapidly approaching ground. Always one hell of a rush, she thought, scanning the area through the lens of her wind visor. For an instant, she focused on her target, a small valley thousands of feet below that was being used by Angar Said to train his men. Out of visual range, the place they decided to land was far enough away from the camp but was as barren as hell. The closer she fell, the more she could make out the hilly landscape.

  She and her lethal, pissed-off friends were about to drop unannounced onto Zasha like a ton of bricks. Before this night was through, she would be no more.

  Deploying her chute, she glided to the ground, and the landing went off without a hitch. She immediately gathered her chute as her companions hit the ground in succession. Once their chutes were buried, they headed to the camp, careful not to encounter any guards. They didn’t want to set off the alarm.

  “Be advised,” Chry said through their comms, “that the Pakistanis are preparing to attack the camp at 0800. They are aware of your presence. SEAL and CIA assets collaborating. She read off the radio frequency. They are currently out of range. Use caution until communication can be established.”

  “Copy that,” Karasu replied. “It’s time to hunker down, ladies.” Anna found a relatively grassy piece of ground behind a boulder. “I’ll take the first watch. Get some sleep.”

  Anna closed her eyes, her thoughts on Dodger. She missed him so much, wished she could just touch him, hold him. Fight, my love. Fight for your life and for us. I don’t want to go on without you.

  16

  When Solace woke in the morning, the blizzard that had raged through the night was gone. Fast Lane was awake, and he was gazing at her. There was something more between them, wider, deeper, broader, a kind of warm and easy companionship that Solace had never, ever experienced before with anyone. She tried not to remember their life before the argument or the three years she’d denied her feelings. It left her feeling too vulnerable and shaky inside when she did. Instead, she tried to focus on the here and now. And making every moment count.

  Suddenly making moments count became a priority.

  They were discussing a plan on what to do when they all stiffened. In the distance, they could hear a chopper buzzing on the wind. Kenny, who was on guard duty, came rushing inside. “They’re coming for us.”

  “Blow the Blackhawk. They already know we’re here.”

  Fast Lane gripped her. “They’re going to take us alive. Zasha will want to have fun with me before she kills me. Don’t resist.”

  She nodded, swallowing hard, scared and so in love with him she didn’t think she could breathe. A massive explosion shook the mountain, reverberating inside the cave. The sound of popping metal and the whoosh of fire was loud.

  “I love you, Solace. I have never stopped loving you. When we get out of this, will you marry me?”

  She blinked and laughed softly, even as they heard the chopper landing and a number of boots crunching in the new snow. “I have never stopped loving you, and I never will. Yes, as long as it’s short and sweet.”

  “Deal,” he said, giving her a hard, fast kiss.

  Kenny, Lonnie, and Phil grinned. “Congratulations, Annie,” Phil said.

  Then a small force barreled through the opening and surrounded them, automatic weapons came up trained on them. One man moved forward and started gathering up their weapons.

  Zasha strolled in like she owned the mountain. She had numerous cuts on her face, her arm in a sling. Solace could only be glad that Hellfire missile had marked her. A chill went through her at the sight of the 9mm in her good hand.

  She walked forward and Solace’s mouth went dry. Crouching down in front of Fast Lane, she said, “Well, isn’t this a cozy group.” Her eyes locked to his hard, cold gaze. He never gave an inch. “At last. We have some fun things ahead of us,” she said, narrowing her mad eyes and laughing softly. She looked down and noted his wound.

  With the muzzle of the gun, she pressed down hard on it and he stiffened in pain, a soft grunt all he would give her.

  Solace didn’t know what came over her. She simply reacted. She shoved Zasha so hard the woman tumbled onto the ground onto her butt. Solace knelt in front of Fast Lane, every protective instinct inside her overriding her common sense.

  Zasha’s reaction was as shocking as it was unpredictable. She came to her knees, so she was level with Solace. Her eyes narrowed in a calculating way that made Solace realize her mistake.

  “And who is this?” she purred. “So fierce?”

  “My pilot,” Fast Lane answered, his mouth tight with pain.

  “Oh, I think she’s much more than that.” Zasha looked at Solace’s crewmembers. “I think we’re all going to have a wonderful party.” She rose and said, “Bind them so they don’t get any bright ideas. I have always enjoyed a captured audience.” She gave them another smug smile. “Let’s move out, boys. Be careful with my guests…for now.”

  Iceman stood at the small cave’s entrance and swore. They had flown out of J-Bad as soon as the storm had passed, but they had been only minutes behind Zasha Vasiliev. This mission was fraught with so much craziness, a kind of unpredictability he had never seen in all his time as a SEAL, and that was saying something. Tex was standing next to him, a quiet, assessing guy. Iceman liked him right away. Even though he wasn’t Tier 1, it was clear both Bondo and Easy had a lot of respect for him. All of them were part of the brotherhood.

  “The chopper is still hot. We just missed them,” Bondo said, nothing but aggression in his voice. Tex’s second in command and
point man shifted and pointed. “The footprints in the snow show that they got on a chopper.” He looked back over his shoulder. “That is some pilot,” he said almost absently. “No bodies. No fatalities. Even without her tail rotor.”

  Tex pressed his comm. “TOC, Fast Lane and the crew of the Blackhawk have been captured.”

  “All of them?” Ruckus said, surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, sir. No deaths, plenty of footprints. We have to surmise that Zasha beat us here. What are your orders?”

  “You and the team will go to Pakistan. They are chomping at the bit and have mobilized their force. It is their intent to attack Angar Said’s base. They are sorry about our losses but still request a liaison. Rose is already on her way there. You will meet up with her at the base camp, then assault Angar Said’s camp.”

  “What about Fast Lane and the crew?”

  “If Zasha has them, then they will be at Angar Said’s camp…if not…we will track them down if it’s the last thing we do.”

  Iceman loved the conviction in the man’s voice.

  “Hard copy that, sir. On our way,” Tex drawled.

  As Iceman entered the chopper to take them to the coordinates Ruckus had given them, he couldn’t help the reaction of both his mind and body when he heard Officer Rose Sinema was going to be meeting him, Tex, Bondo, Easy, and the remainder of Fast Lane’s team on the ground.

  It was funny how they kept running into each other without one chance to get beyond the professional. The woman was as tough as they came, but he could see that this mission had taken quite a toll on her. The wounding of Fast Lane’s guys, their brothers, set Iceman’s anger and determination on track to neutralize the person responsible for the systematic attacks. His other mission was to secure those dirty bombs.

  The trip was uneventful, and it wasn’t long before they were touching down into a large operation with many Pakistani troops mobilized for the assault on the camp. Exiting the chopper, he followed Tex to the command tent where they were introduced to General Hamza Haq and striking Foreign Officer Shaima Zimiri, a dark-haired, dark-eyed stunner. But she paled in comparison to Rose, who was currently speaking with the general. She looked exhausted but intense in her khaki pants and pristine white button-down shirt under a worn and gorgeous brown bomber jacket cinched at her small waist, and a fur collar. She looked very Out of Africa and Amelia Earhart-esque. Her blonde hair was a tousled mess as if she’d been running her hands through it repeatedly.

  As soon as she was clear of the general, Iceman walked over to her as Officer Zimiri snagged Tex’s attention.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he murmured as he came up behind her.

  She whirled and tried to smile, but there was just too much on her beautiful mind. “And here I thought you were stalking me. You know they have laws against that, right?”

  He chuckled. “Laws, smaws. Who gives a damn about that? I kill people for a living.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Too true. I guess I don’t have a leg to stand on. I’m the one who identifies and points you toward the target.”

  “That’s right.” He turned solemn. “How you holding up?”

  That might have been the wrong thing to say. She bit her lip and it started to quiver, then she turned and walked out of the tent.

  Anger got the better of him—not for Rose, but for the woman who had caused all this mess. His hands curled into fists, his lungs suddenly tight. Without hesitating, he went after Rose. He found her behind the tent just standing there, her head bowed.

  He said in a very quiet voice, “We both know that anything out of our control is out of our control.”

  “I keep telling myself that.” She looked over at him, managing a tight, mirthless smile.

  Trying to rid himself of the buildup of anger on her behalf, something that surprised the hell out of him, he expelled his breath, forcing his stiff muscles to relax. Holding her gaze for a long moment, he finally said, his tone deadly quiet, “Who do you need me to kill?”

  Her body went perfectly still, and she stared at him, color suffusing her face. “I think you know who.”

  “She’s in my sights. Anyone else?”

  “I’ll take a raincheck. It’s good to have a Tier 1 guy in my back pocket.”

  He wouldn’t protest being anywhere near that fine ass of hers. “Coffee? You look like you could use—”

  He heard her take a ragged breath—a breath that sounded too much like a sob for him to ignore, and with his resolve evaporating like smoke, he caught her wrist and turned her into his arms. He gathered her up. “Ah, Rose, you’re killing me.”

  Drawing a tremulous breath, she slid her arms around his neck. “I know better. There’s no crying in spying,” she whispered, her face wet against his neck, her voice breaking.

  Tucking her head tighter to him, he savored the silky disorder of her hair, a flicker of amusement surfacing. “That should be printed on a t-shirt.” Sweeping her hair back, he cupped the side of her face.

  He got an unsteady laugh, and he hugged her tighter. Rose’s voice was a little stronger when she responded. “Sounds like a solid promo possibility. Partners?”

  He waited until he felt her begin to relax, then he eased his hold. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice gentle.

  Her pale lashes matted, her mouth not quite steady, she looked at him, her eyes showing dark circles. Damn if he didn’t want to drop his mouth down on those soft-looking lips. As if she sensed his thoughts, her lips parted, her eyes dilating, the cool air seeming to heat up around them. Needing to touch her, he adjusted her fur collar around the back of her neck, his fingers tingling against the skin of her nape.

  She stared at him for a moment, then said, her voice husky, “You’re a pretty nice guy…for a killer.” She rested her forehead against his jaw, and he could feel her start to pull herself together. He figured all tough cookies had that courageous gene.

  “Rose?” The pretty Foreign Officer’s voice sounded from the front of the tent.

  “Duty calls,” she said, separating from him and wiping at her eyes. She started for the entrance, then stopped and turned back. “Thank you, Kit.”

  His nickname rolled off those pretty lips he had just contemplated kissing but thought better of it. He wasn’t averse to taking advantage of a situation, but with Rose, he couldn’t seem to do that to her. Maybe this one time, he could act more like a decent guy instead of an asshole. An aberration for sure and not his usual MO.

  Maybe he was going soft…or just soft on her.

  Tactically, Fast Lane had no idea how he was going to get everyone out of this alive. Maybe if he offered Zasha his life, she would let the others go, but he decided that she was going to take his life anyway. He was desperate to protect Solace, as he had been on the long-ago mission, but, in this case, he wasn’t going to lose his cool like he had then. He was going to stay alert, in control, and work this situation smart.

  Solace looked at him, every emotion in her eyes, and he shook his head slightly trying to warn her to keep everything locked up tight.

  The way Solace had acted when Zasha had pressed on his wound was magnificent, fearless, but now he feared that once Zasha found out she was his ex-wife, there would be no way she wouldn’t use Solace against him solely to enjoy her revenge.

  Zasha’s chopper touched down in a large camp filled with tents, the hard landing jolting pain through his upper thigh. It looked like a makeshift training compound. There were plenty of people milling around, men dressed in the long tunics, pants, and those unmistakable pakols, a hat with a kind of double-pancake appearance, beards covering their faces. Most of them were carrying Kalashnikov assault rifles in their hands, aka AK-47s.

  With shoves and prods, they exited the helo, his bruised ribs burned up his side, his thigh wound throbbing hot, and he grit his teeth against the pain. Without any quarter, they pushed him, and he almost lost his balance, but Solace was there to bolster him. They jerked them apart and k
nifing pain bled through his whole leg. As he hobbled along, each step agony, their boots squished in the mud from the melting snowfall, although it was much lighter here than it had been in the mountains. Solace was close at his side, hands bound like his. A quarter mile along the ridge, Fast Lane could see nothing but wide-open space, rolling hills, the next rise beyond a river, and the mountains rising to white peaks. They were in the middle of nowhere…North Waziristan would be his guess.

  He could only hope that Ruckus had sent out the team to find them, discovered them missing, and was in the process of working with the Pakistanis. If his supposition was correct, this place was going to turn into a war zone pretty quick. Zasha was now blind. She no longer had her contacts in JSOC and the CIA. She wouldn’t know about the collaboration or the attack. When it came, he was going to get these guys out of here. Protecting them and his precious, brave Solace was his top priority. If he knew his team, and he did, they had this all covered and all he had to worry about were the three crewmembers and his soon-to-be wife.

  He couldn’t believe that Solace had agreed to marry him in that small cave with the threat of death descending on them. He didn’t think he had ever been surer or felt more alive at that moment. It was a hasty proposal, but he needed her to know he wanted her back in his life. He had much more to say to her, and he was damned and determined to tell her everything in his heart. His insides a tangle of joy and anxiety, he deliberately slid against her as if he had lost his balance again. She turned to look at him and he gave her a reassuring smile.

  She smiled back. Her reaction reminded him again that what he expected from her wasn’t what he got. Feeling suddenly stronger and grounded, even surrounded by trained mercs loyal to Zasha, and his thigh protesting, blood soaking once again into his pants leg, he turned and looked straight ahead.

  Their group had been stripped of everything except their clothes. All of it was in the packs and carried by several of the mercs a few feet ahead. No one spoke as they headed for the cluster of tents. The ground was grassless and muddy from the recent snowfall. His gaze swept their surroundings, a weapons stash, then he noticed children near the entrances, a mother behind them dressed in a head-to-toe burka. Two women came into the camp and he met their eyes through the square mesh of the bar that was cut into the hood to allow them to see.