SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) (26 page)

A photograph was taken of her with a cell phone.

A clean hood, this time made of freshly laundered cotton, smelling of fabric softener of all things, was unceremoniously placed over her head, but without harming her injured cheekbone or nose. She could smell the cologne of the man in the starched white shirt. He helped her up delicately, handing her over to one of the others, delivering instructions coolly, as if he was talking to a child.

She was led roughly into another section of the building. Her guide without the smooth hands of her older captor moved faster than she wanted to cover the dirty concrete floor. She felt the butt of a rifle in her back nearly the whole way there.

Forced to sit on a mattress of some kind, they taped her legs together with several loops of duct tape. She worked at her hands. The cord was breaking her skin and already it felt warm and swollen. Her eyes were getting worse. The heat in the building was stifling, the headscarf–gag exacerbating it. She tried to raise her hands to her face to remove the hood so she could breathe, when something dull hit her in the head and everything turned black.

‡

C
ollins had attempted
to call Rory Saturday morning and left a message. Rory didn’t hear the call. They were target shooting on a long range on Kodiak Island with a twenty-mile-an-hour wind, along with their ear protectors, so none of them heard much of anything. In the field, they’d wear their small Moldex units, but today no chance was taken with anyone’s hearing.

Collins had continued calling each member down the line. He would admit later that he even called Armando by mistake. Armando and Gina were at Lake Tahoe for a family event.

Kyle was the first to check his messages, and he listened as their Chief asked for Rory to call him ASAP. He tapped Rory on the shoulder with a firm grip, as was their custom in getting each other’s attention when in the theater.

“You’re to call base. Collins needs to talk to you right now,” he shouted over the whistle of the wind.

Rory handed his weapon to T.J., picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. It was a long thirty seconds until he could get inside the OSV, the over-the-snow vehicle. Kyle and T.J. followed behind and at first stood just outside his window while he dialed. After uttering a string of epithets, Kyle opened the driver’s door and slipped himself behind the wheel of the vehicle, turned and watched Rory, determined to be part of whatever was going to be discussed. T.J. moved opposite and came inside from the chill.

“Rory here, Chief.”

“You check your email lately?” Collins belted out.

“Not since last night. We’ve been at the long course training all day. What’s happened?”

“There’s another message from your friendly neighborhood terrorist you need to see, son.”

“Is Corrigan okay?”

“Gone back to New York this morning. I’m not calling about Corrigan.”

Rory’s heart sank. He stared into Kyle’s steady eyes and swallowed. “Is she—is she okay?”

“As far as I can tell, yes. But it’s an ugly picture, son. A terrible picture. We’re gonna need you back here right away. I’ve sent over a transport to fly you all home, should be arriving in about a half hour, enough time to get your butts back to Kodiak.”

“Where can I see this picture?”

“Just call up your email account. Just like before. But Rory, no response. I know what you want to say, but zip it. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

“You are not to have any contact with him unless we approve it. We have located Corrigan’s computer, but it’s moving all the time, so not much help there.”

Rory put the phone under his jaw. “Kyle—”

“Already on it,” Kyle said as he flipped open his Mac, entering Rory’s passcodes. He impatiently waited for the slow download and then gasped, “Son of a bitch.”

Rory grabbed the top of the laptop, pulling it gingerly over the back of the seat and placing it on his knees. He stared into the eyes of the woman he loved, if it
was
her. Megan’s face was swollen with a grotesque red and purple bruise on her right side. Part of her cheekbone was sharply contoured under her skin, indicating there was a broken bone. Her nose was nearly twice its normal size, but her eyes, he couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open or closed.

Her hands were bound with yellow nylon cord. Someone had placed a headscarf on her and wrapped it around her lower jaw, tying it behind her head like they did in the desert. But this one was positioned to be a gag.

Several invectives were hurled in hushed tones as members of their team piled in and viewed the screen.

“He’s a dead man, Chief.” Rory meant it.

“No, he’s fucking not. We’re not going to do anything like that,” Collins corrected him.

Fredo was the loudest. “Fuckin-A. This one’s going back to the source, no doubt about it.”

“Kyle?” Collins voice was nearly screaming on the other end. “Get me Kyle.”

Rory handed his LPO the phone, and everyone in the vehicle could hear the words Collins was shouting. “You got a lid on this, Lansdowne? We don’t do any vigilante justice. I didn’t call you to stir everyone up for a bloodbath.”

“I’m sorry, Chief. You’re breaking up,” Kyle yelled back. “Chief Collins? Collins? Are you there?” Kyle carefully scanned the faces of his team, putting his forefinger to his lips. “Fuck, I think we lost the Chief,” he said to the other men. “Let’s get the hell out of here and head back to the airfield.” He carefully punched the red disconnect button.

Everyone understood the stakes, the violation that had just occurred. And it would never get any further than the inside of the OSV.

“Read the message, Rory,” T.J. said. “There’s a message below the pic.”

Mr. Kennedy,

Someone is going to die very soon. It will be either your woman here, or you, or both of you. You will be given instructions very soon and you must comply. Please acknowledge you have received this message.

Rory shook his head as he started to place his fingers on the keyboard.

“You can’t fuckin’ answer it, Rory. It’s gonna take us six hours at least to get home.” Kyle said.

“I have to, Kyle. I have to tell him I can’t get back there. If he’s expecting me to respond quickly, and I’m in the air, what the fuck good will that do? I’ve just killed her, Kyle. That’s what would happen.”

T.J. had exited the second seat and opened the driver door, pushing Kyle aside. “While you ladies are deciding what’s on the menu, I’m getting us the hell outta here and back to the airstrip.” He started up the vehicle. “Everyone, we good? Got all your gear?” Everyone nodded, except Rory.

Rory was in shock, staring at the picture of Megan on the screen. Kyle shook his shoulders. “Rory?”

“I got it LP,” said Brady. “He’s good.”

“For what it’s worth, Kyle,” said Cooper, “I agree with Rory. Tariq has got to feel like Rory’s trying to cooperate. The worst thing we can do is disrespect his authority by ignoring him.”

Kyle searched Rory’s face. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to make him think we’re going rogue and going to catch hell for it. After all, it’s consistent with our reputation,” he added.

“I agree. I’ll just tell him we’re leaving now, and I’ll contact him when we land.”

“All you can do, Rory. I’ll take the heat for it, if it comes to that.”

“Excuse me, LP, but you weren’t the one he gave the order to. It was me.”

“And I’m responsible for you following those orders, Rory. I’m tied to the same outcome.”

T.J. hit a huge trough in the ice trail and they all slammed into the ceiling, rising off their seats by nearly a foot. The vehicle swerved back and forth so T.J. could avoid a bigger swale. The engine whined as they maneuvered their way faster than they normally would have. Rory could hardly think straight it was so loud.

“Now would not be a good time to crash this thing, T.J.,” said Kyle. He got a three-finger salute.

“No disrespect intended, Lannie.”

“Oh, I like fuckin’. I got no problem with that. It’s your fuckin’ driving I have a problem with,” Kyle said punching T.J.’s arm.

Fredo pretended to type on the computer. “Go rot in hell with the donkey you rode in on,” he feigned.

Rory pushed him aside. “Get the fuck out of my face, Casanova.”

There was a general “Wooo” from everyone in the vehicle. Fredo was quick with his answer. “I guess being married to Armani’s sister is rubbing off. That’s what we used to call him, remember?”

Fredo got some agreement.

“Guys!” Rory was in a panic trying to figure out what he should say. “I gotta send a message and you—you guys act like we’ve just stolen a car and are running from the cops.” He slapped T.J. on the shoulder, and he too got the salute. “You’re nearly running us off the trail. I can’t type when you’re bouncing this shit all around.”

“Pardon me, Sir Rory,” T.J. began in his best imitation British accent. “I’m dreadfully sorry about the bumps. Perhaps next time, I’ll bring the Rolls.”

They hit the main highway, which was smoother, but filled with craters and potholes. It led straight to the airport. At last Rory could send a message.

“In Alaska on a training,” he said as he typed. He hesitated and looked up at Kyle. “Can we tell him that? We don’t even tell the ladies that half the time.”

“Let me take out my Code of Conduct and check the rules.” Kyle quipped and turned back around.

Cooper thought that was funny as hell. “Don’t ever say that in front of Libby. She’ll think there is such a thing and she’ll be demanding I produce it. She’s big on rules.”

“I believe they call them
‘Safe Words,’
” Fredo inserted.

“We don’t do any of that shit.” Cooper crossed his long arms and legs and slunk back into the third seat, pulling the back of his shirt. “Leave him the hell alone. He’s gotta write a letter.”

Fredo collapsed nearly in Brady’s lap, and got shoved back into Cooper’s side.

Tyler leaned into Rory from the side. “Out of country on training. Will be back in seven or eight hours.” Tyler gave Rory time to catch up to his dictation.

“I’ll say seven.”

“Leaving within the hour. Will contact you when we land.” Tyler waited again. “Just so you know, I’ve risked my career to answer your email.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” Kyle objected.

“Tell him he’s going to hell,” Fredo shouted.

“Ask him if you can take him to dinner at that little kosher place downtown,” T.J. offered.

Rory was getting more agitated by the second. “Fuckit, guys. This is life or death shit. I don’t get this right, she’s—”

Instantly the vehicle got quiet.

Kyle finally turned back. “Hey, Rory, just send it without the getting into trouble part. No sense putting that crap in writing. I trust Collins about as much as anybody, but I don’t trust Forsythe,” said Kyle.

Tyler nodded his head, “Yeah, man, just send it.”

A slight bump forced Rory’s finger off the keyboard momentarily before he could hit return. When he examined the message he’d sent, a picture of a puppy dog kissing a heart had appeared right under his typing.

“Fuck me!”

The three teammates in the third seat leaned over and saw the message with the little dog bouncing up and down kissing the pulsing hearts. Cooper and Fredo looked at Kyle and began to laugh.

How could I have been such a stupid idiot?

Recognition spread over Kyle’s face. “Oh, that. That’s my sig line. You must have hit the left arrow command button. I sign messages to Christy that way.”

“Well, boss. Now Tariq’s got one too,” said Tyler.

The transport was waiting for them. They transferred the keys to two young Coasties who were sent to do the pickup of the loaner vehicle. In less than five minutes, they were on their way back to San Diego.

Rory’s hands were red from digging his fingernails into his palms. He worked on his breathing, tried to sleep, used one of T.J.’s relaxation tapes, but every time he heard something he jumped. It was like he’d had twenty cups of coffee. He knew he would need his strength, the power of his quick thinking. But he’d never outright wanted to kill anyone so bad in his life. It eclipsed anything he’d felt in the theater. Kyle had been looking at him every time he opened his eyes. He finally transferred to the vacant seat across so he didn’t have to experience the “evil eye” his LPO was giving him—real or imagined. Next time he opened his eyes, there were three of his buddies staring back at him, and Fredo’s eyes were crossed and he’d stuck his tongue out.

They laughed of course. He knew it wasn’t at his expense, but as the hours ticked by, it felt crappy that he had to wait so long to find out if she was even alive. He knew how fragile life could be, how quickly things could change.

In the early morning hours, the transport finally landed at the Naval Air Station. Kyle was first out and was met by both Collins and Forsythe. Brady, Cooper, T.J. and Fredo all carried most of the gear. Rory rocked impatiently behind his LPO, his backpack in hand, trying not to engage eye contact with Collins. He didn’t want to show disrespect to the man he owed his life to, but without Kyle’s presence he’d have run past his Chief and Forsythe and headed straight for his Hummer, probably ending his career. He wouldn’t do that with Kyle standing beside him.