Rescuing Emma (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) Read online

  “Any devices in the cab?” Nate asked, inquiring after a trigger.

  Doc pulled the dying man out dumping his body on the asphalt and searched the cab’s interior. He leaned back out, “None that I can see.”

  Nate nodded. He returned to the back of the truck addressing Ghost. “Slowly. We don’t know for sure what’s inside.”

  Ghost unlocked the door and inched it up revealing a small space. Nate knelt, looking inside. A sharp knifepoint shot through the opening. Nate fell back, catching himself. “Woah! Emma, is that you?”

  “Nate?” Emma’s voice frantically replied. “Nate! Get me out of here!”

  “It’s me, baby. It’s me. We’re all here.”

  “Oh my God. Thank God. Get me out!”

  “We will. Be patient. Tell me, are there any wires around the door that you can see?”

  “No. There’s nothing. Just the side vents and a tarp and tackle box that I already raided.”

  Nate let go the breath he’d been holding. “That’s good. Okay, step back.”

  Ghost and Nate pushed the door up. As soon as she had clearance, Emma launched herself straight into Nate’s arms.

  He swung Emma around, holding her tight. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  Emma breathed in his scent, letting the tears she’d been fighting fall. “No. I’m okay.”

  Nate ran his hands over her back, her head, checking despite her assurances that she was fine. The tightness in his chest eased with each passing moment. He looked down at her, noticing her glasses for the first time. They were askew, having been bumped aside in his tight embrace. She straightened them automatically. His heartbeat skipped.

  “We’ll need to interview her.” A man in a black suit approached, speaking in a thick French accent. He extended his hand to Nate. “Captain, I’m Pierre Laurent, Interpol.”

  Nate refused to let Emma go to shake the man’s hand. He nodded instead. “I’ll make sure she’s debriefed. Right now, I’d just like to get her out of here.”

  Laurent handed Nate a card. “This is my counterpart in London. He’ll meet you at the American Embassy. Take her there straightaway while her memory is still fresh.”

  “What about al-Waleed?” Nate asked.

  “Looks like he may have slipped our net,” said Laurent, looking over Nate’s shoulder.

  Nate turned. Skyscraper and Eastwood were walking towards them with two of the Gendarmerie. The disappointment on their faces confirmed Laurent’s suspicion.

  “No worries, Captain. We’ll get him.” Laurent pulled out his cell phone and began speaking rapidly as he walked back to his sedan.

  Emma remained silent during their exchange, loathe to break contact with Nate’s chest. She felt safe in his arms. Why the hell did I ever run from this, she thought.

  “How did you even find me?” She looked around and then up at Nate, wide-eyed.

  “It’s what I do,” he said.

  Emma looked over his shoulder. The rest of his men stood by, smiling at her, all except Eastwood and Skyscraper who appeared angry and frustrated. She wondered if it was because of her or because her kidnapper got away. They stopped pacing and nodded at her. Allen reached out and patted her back.

  “Glad you’re okay, Emma.”

  “Thank you, Allen.” Emma disengaged from Nate and hugged Ghost.

  Nate reclaimed her immediately. “What happened, Emma? Why’d you leave me?”

  It was a question she’d been trying to answer herself before everything went south. “I got scared,” she said simply.

  “Of what? Of me?” Nate’s blue eyes searched hers.

  “I don’t know. I just needed to be alone. I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Emma. This wasn’t your fault. Al-Waleed did this.”

  Her eyes popped wide. “As in the leader of Black Jihad?”

  “Yes. The one and the same.”

  “What in the world did he want with me? Was it something I wrote?”

  Nate’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

  “We need to go, Outlaw,” Hollywood interrupted. “The chopper’s waiting.”

  “You’re not leaving me?” Emma clutched Nate’s arms.

  “Not on your life. You’re coming with me. I’m not letting you go.” He pulled her in closer.

  “Good,” she whispered, snuggling into his chest.

  Nate leaned down, moving in for a kiss.

  “Time for that later, Outlaw,” Doc chuckled, slapping Nate on the back as he jogged past him, ducking low and jumping into the chopper.

  “I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” said Emma, eyeing the military chopper with trepidation.

  Nate smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go the entire ride back.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Promise?” Emma asked, biting her lip.

  Nate’s eyes followed the movement and he grinned. “Promise. And Emma?”

  “Yes?”

  “When we get back, the next set of teeth nibbling that lip are going to be mine,” he growled.

  Emma’s heart pounded in her chest as heat suffused her cheeks. There was no chance to reply. Nate led her to the chopper where he helped her in before climbing up behind her. True to his word, he held her the entire flight back to London.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as they arrived back in London, Emma was whisked off for debriefing with American and British Intelligence in a separate room down the hall inside the American Embassy. Nate wanted to go with her, to help her through it all, but was ordered to stay behind. He and his team had their own debriefing to attend with the general.

  “The good news is, we were able to contain the situation before it got out into the media.” General P.K. Davidson sat at the head of the table in the conference room. “This would’ve been a damned shitstorm had it leaked.”

  Nate and his men remained quiet knowing Davidson’s mood was precarious. The wrong word and he’d have their heads on a platter for dinner. It was one thing to be sent on a planned mission, but quite another to have a terrorist personally come after a team and then abduct an American citizen.

  “Anyone want to tell me how the hell al-Waleed knew where to find you?” The General drummed his fingers on the mahogany table.

  Nate and Ghost exchanged a look before Nate spoke. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t know. We saw al-Waleed at the house in Prague, as stated in my report, but there is no way he could’ve identified us. We followed every protocol. Camouflage was ensured with both clothing and paint sticks. Our faces were not revealed. We weren’t followed.”

  Davidson pounded his fist on the table top, leaning forward. “Then how in the goddamned Sam Hill did he find you, Captain? How is it he just happened to be in the same hotel in London where we granted your team leave, hmmn?”

  The team looked at each other, pissed but wondering the same thing.

  Nate opened his mouth to reply when Davidson cut him off, stunning him. “And just what the hell are you doing fraternizing with a journalist? Have you lost your damned mind?”

  Nate’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened and closed like a fish caught out of water. “What journalist? I haven’t—”

  “The girl, Captain!” Davidson roared. “Your little fling who caused this whole damn clusterfuck. A Washington Evening Post reporter who can out your entire team to the world. What the hell were you thinking,” The General snorted. “Never mind. I know what you were thinking with and it surely wasn’t your goddamned head!”

  “Sir?” Ghost spoke up. “None of us were aware of any reporter.”

  The General glared at Ghost. A file folder sat before him off to the side. He dragged it over and opened it. Blowing out a steadying breath, he began to read. “Emma Jane Lewis, age thirty as of yesterday, employed for the past three years by the Washington Evening Post. She covers politics under the byline of E.J. Lewis. A bleeding-heart liberal to boot. A graduate of the University of Maryland, Baltimore with
a major in communication and a minor in political science. Volunteered with Get Out and Vote community outreach, Meals on Wheels, and the Baltimore animal control services adoption center. She also currently volunteers her time in DC with a multinational women’s center that focuses on educating women in countries where it is expressly forbidden to do so.” Davidson turned the file around and pushed it at Nate. “Quite the little socialist, your lady, Captain.”

  Nate looked at the picture inside the file staring back at him. It was Emma. His Emma. The shock of discovering she was the same E.J. Lewis who wrote the articles he read, the ones that, in his opinion, gave away far too much information to terrorists like al-Waleed grated on him and kept him from responding. All he felt in that moment was a sick combination of anger and betrayal. In the middle of that mess was the realization that it might not have been him and his men al-Waleed had been targeting after all. What was it Emma had said when he rescued her? She’d asked if Black Jihad was after her because of something she wrote.

  Finally, “General, I don’t think al-Waleed even knew we were there. I think he was after Emma.”

  “What do you mean, Captain?”

  “Have you read her articles? Her view favors a more open policy regarding immigration, a pathway to citizenship and integrating into American society.”

  Davidson sat back, considering. “And how does that not play into the schemes of a terrorist organization? They want that, they want to be able to come and go unhindered. Hell, I’d think he’d send her some damned flowers and chocolates for promoting policy that helps them!”

  “Not necessarily,” Ghost interrupted. “Black Jihad doesn’t want their people to leave. They don’t want any westernized influence and anything that makes it easier for refugees to flee into the west would be something they’d seek to stop.” He looked at Nate. “I think you’re right. He was targeting Emma…to silence her.”

  Nate’s stomach dipped. He swallowed, getting control of his emotions. On one hand, he was pissed. Emma’s bleeding heart, as the General put it, had put her squarely on the radar of an international terrorist organization. Knowing her now, he was having a difficult time reconciling the journalist he’d been railing about for months with the warm, sweet, kind woman who’d shared his bed. If E.J. Lewis had just been some man with utopian ideals, he could’ve easily told him off for irresponsible journalism, the danger of so publicly supporting policies that encouraged asylum seekers while angering their oppressors and called it a day. But that wasn’t the case. It was Emma. Kind-hearted Emma. The sweet woman who gave him a second chance at a first impression, which was rare. The spitfire, self-described nerd with beautiful legs and perfect breasts and an endearing habit of biting her lip just so…

  “Any word from Interpol? Have they found al-Waleed?” Nate asked.

  The General rubbed his chin, thinking hard. “No, not yet. He’s still at large.”

  “Which means Emma is still in danger.”

  The men all sat forward looking at General Davidson expectantly.

  “Then we need to get her back to D.C., into protective custody,” he said. “Captain, I assume you’ll want to be the one assigned to guarding her until we capture al-Waleed?”

  “You assume correctly, sir.” Nate wasn’t about to let her fall under anyone else’s protection. He might be pissed, but he wanted answers, and he wanted al-Waleed.

  “We all will,” said Doc. Eastwood, Skyscraper, Hollywood, and Ghost all nodded their agreement.

  “Then let’s get her back stateside ASAP. No communication will be allowed between her and any family, friends, or co-workers until this is resolved. Understood?”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Nate replied. His head was spinning. Emma was in danger. The mere thought left him cold. He didn’t know if there could be a relationship between them now, knowing what she did for a living, but her life had almost come to a tragic end. He couldn’t let that happen again.

  Chapter 11

  Emma stared out the window from the backseat of the black sedan. Nate sat next to her as the driver, a State Department security specialist, drove through the streets of Washington, D.C. Outside, a light rain was falling making the roads just slick enough to be dangerous in the near-freezing winter temperature. After being rescued from a kidnapping attempt by an international terrorist, Emma thought she’d be happy to be home. But that was not the case. Since her return to London, things hadn’t gone at all as she’d hoped.

  First of all, her vacation weekend was cut short. Second, she wasn’t even allowed to see her friends, of whom she was sure were worried sick about her. When she’d arrived back at a British military base, she’d been whisked off to the American Embassy to be interviewed for hours. Three men in civilian suits, and one in an impressive British Navy uniform sat opposite her across a cold stainless-steel table inside a sterile white room. She’d sat there, shivering until someone gave her a blanket to wrap around her body. Emma was ready to burn the pink silk dress. She desperately wanted a bath, a change of clothes, and her bed. But everyone had insisted she be debriefed right away. She stared at her inquisitors, weary to the bone.

  They introduced themselves as Agents Nelson and Leeks from MI6, Agent Jerry Marshall, CIA, and Commodore Brandon Andrews. They’d asked her the same questions over and over varying their order until they were satisfied she’d not somehow orchestrated her own kidnapping. The fact that it felt like they were even implying such a ludicrous scheme, after what she’d gone through, made her feel sick. Emma had already been terrified beyond belief, but to have these men stare her down like she was some kind of criminal broke something inside her. They were supposed to be the good guys. She was a good citizen, not some extremist journalist with an agenda. Yet they’d made her feel as if she needed to defend herself and every word she’d ever written. All she wanted was to leave that room, fall in Nate’s arms and have him hold her.

  She’d felt safe there when he rescued her. She wanted to feel safe again. But that didn’t happen. Instead, she’d been told she couldn’t contact her friends, her family, anyone she knew until al-Waleed was captured. Worse, she’d been told that her kidnapping wasn’t a random event, but rather, she’d been targeted specifically for her recent articles in support of immigration reform for refugees seeking asylum. When she’d pointed out that her editor, Derek Riley, could also be in danger since he approved all her work for publication, the agents and the Commodore exchanged looks before Agent Marshall replied, “We’ll take that into consideration.”

  That’s all she got. Afterwards, she was taken to a military transport airplane where Nate was waiting. Relieved, she’d thrown herself into his arms, hugging his neck, but when he didn’t return her embrace, Emma felt the bottom drop out of her world. All he’d said was that Becky and the girls would bring back her things from the hotel and that he and his men would be her personal security team until the threat against her was neutralized. She asked what was wrong, why all of this was happening and more importantly, why he was being so cold, but Nate clammed up, refusing to answer.

  The only ones who offered her any kindness or sympathy were Allen and Doc. The rest of the men had gone into soldier mode.

  It was a long and lonely flight home.

  Now, as the sedan pulled up to a safehouse in a neighborhood not far from her own apartment, Emma unbuckled her belt, preparing to exit the vehicle as soon as it stopped. She didn’t want to be this close to Nate anymore. She needed room, needed air.

  “Wait,” said Nate, reaching out to stop her from opening the door.

  His hand grabbing hers was the first physical contact he initiated since the rescue. The tingles were still there, still strong as soon as his fingers circled her wrist, but the hurt and anger inside her was stronger.

  Emma yanked her hand away. “Wait for what?”

  Nate’s eyes narrowed at the sharp edge in her tone. “Wait until I tell you it’s okay to exit the car.”

  Emma huffed, pushing her glasses back up onto her
nose. “So that’s how it’s going to be? You give orders and I meekly follow them?”

  He watched her sitting there, openly defiant. She looked so small in the leather jacket Ghost had lent her. Even so, her shoulders were squared, spine straight as a steel rod and her big brown eyes bore into his from behind her dark-rimmed spectacles. It was annoying to have his command questioned no matter how sexy and adorable she looked. Nate was caught between his own rising anger and equally rising desire to kiss her.

  He needed to establish control. He stuck with anger. “Yes. That’s the way it’s going to be, Emma, until al-Waleed is captured and you’re no longer in danger,” he stated sharply.

  His retort struck her like a slap across the face. “Fine!” Emma turned, facing forward and stared angrily off into the distance.

  The rigidity of her posture told Nate it most definitely was not fine, and he sighed. Taking it down a notch, he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. Look, it’s not ideal, I know, but it’s for your own good. He already tried once and if we hadn’t been able to respond quickly, you might already be…” His words trailed off and he struggled over the sudden lump in his throat.

  Emma heard the hitch in his voice and softened, finishing his sentence. “…be dead.”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at Nate who stared out the opposite window. His rugged profile was as handsome as ever, but something about the man had changed, and she didn’t know what she’d done to make him suddenly dislike her so much.

  “Nate?”

  He didn’t answer, but the tension in his shoulders eased somewhat at the sound of his name on her lips.

  Emma reached out, touching his arm. He flinched. Fighting back the hurt his reaction inflicted, she asked, voice wobbling, “What did I do?”

  The pain in her words struck at his heart. Nate turned, about to reply when Hollywood opened Emma’s door.