Page 14 of Hidden Attraction (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #3)

FOUR TEEN

T ires screamed like dying animals.

Chase bolted upright in bed, hand already on his weapon, that noise wiping all traces of sleep from his mind.

“Alyssa?” His voice was a guttural bark.

No answer.

He leaped out of bed. Charging through the bungalow, all he needed was a cursory glance over the space to know she wasn’t inside.

“Alyssa!” His roar shook the flimsy walls as he reached the door. He threw it open and sprinted, barefoot and in his underwear. The rough ground grated the soles of his feet, but his gaze was fixed on the head of the alley.

Two doors slammed hard enough to echo like a blast down the narrow path between buildings where Chase ran. His heart pounded against his ribs.

A dark van peeled out, tires spinning to gain traction on the street.

He sprinted full speed, no hesitation. The evening light was the kind that made everything look shadowed and more dangerous. His bare feet skidded, and he felt a hard stone slice into his flesh. Ignoring the cut, he scanned the street, wild-eyed. Dark liquid puddled on the ground and a paper cup rolled on the sidewalk.

He was too late. She was gone.

Chest heaving, he bellowed, “Fuck!”

Panic had no place in his existence as a SEAL. As a man who was fucking in love with Alyssa, it did.

He raced back to the safehouse, shoving through the open door so it ricocheted off the inner wall.

Her things were all here—her suitcase, her jacket, her extra pair of walking shoes. What made her leave the safety of the house? Of his arms?

Alyssa was gone.

They got her.

That van—the screeching tires. It was all too close to the attempted kidnapping in New York City. He rushed into the bedroom and grabbed his phone, stabbing a finger at the screen to get his commanding officer on the line.

“Con,” he gritted out.

The sheets were tangled from their night of passion, still holding the warmth of Alyssa’s body.

The SEAL in him wanted blood. The man in him wanted to fall to his knees and scream.

“Cobra, what’s going on?”

“She’s gone. Snatched off the street.”

“Fuck! You weren’t with her?”

“No. She left our bed while I was sleeping.” He passed a shaking hand over his face. He had to get it together.

Silence crackled for a beat. Then Con said, “I’ll get Dante on this.”

He put the phone on speaker and set it on the bed so he had his hands free to dress. He yanked on each garment with total mindlessness.

Dante’s voice came over the line, sharp, focused. “Stay put, Cobra. I’m getting eyes now.”

He knew Dante would be tapping into any feeds from street cameras or even possible drones in the area.

“Con, I need an assist. I don’t care if you find me a mercenary to help me get her back.” Even as he said it, he knew what Con would say.

“I can’t run an unsanctioned op on foreign ground.”

“The kidnapping wasn’t sanctioned either, goddammit!”

Dante broke in. “I have a satellite image.”

Adrenaline surging through his body, Chase’s request sounded as an order. “Tell me what you see!”

“Black van.”

“Yes.”

“Two men in black.”

“Fuck!”

“They snatched her off the street and tossed her in the van. I’m getting local authorities on the hunt for the vehicle now.”

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned. His stomach bottomed out, lower than low. The heavy weight of despair—one he knew very well after losing Echo—dragged down his heart too.

“Why wasn’t I protecting her? It was my goddamn job to protect her, and I failed.” The shame in his gut burned hotter than any anger.

Con was the voice of calm reason. “This was coordinated. Professional.”

“They must have been watching the house, just waiting to take her. I need to get her back. Find me a team!”

“Cobra, we’ll get her back. But you can’t go vigilante on me.”

Too late. He was halfway to fury, checking his ammo in the clip and stuffing more in his pockets, enough to take out a platoon of men when he really only needed three bullets—one for each man who grabbed her and one for the driver.

“Dante?” he urged, ignoring what Con said.

“I’ve got satellite tracking on her pulled up.”

He stilled. “Wait—how?”

“Um. This is probably a good time to let you know I added spyware to her phone.”

His teammate’s claim punched through Chase, the force of sheer relief bending him forward.

“I added it when I checked out her phone, and Kennedy’s too.”

He dug his fingers into his hair, feeling Alyssa’s touch on him in the grip of passion. “Dante, I could kiss you right now.”

“Haven’t you been doing enough kissing lately?” Dante asked.

Chase almost laughed. Almost.

“Hang on—I’ve got something. Click this link I’m sending you.”

He snatched up his phone and jabbed the link that popped into his messages. When it opened, he took in the surveillance footage Dante streamed—grainy GPS data from Alyssa’s phone.

“She’s moving,” Dante said. “Fast. South side. They’re taking her into some kind of industrial block.”

Chase leaned over his phone, breath shallow. The feed shifted to street cam overlays and a warehouse on the edge of the city.

There. That flash of movement. Alyssa being dragged out of the van.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t scream.

She fought , elbows flying. She kicked one guy in the shin hard enough he slapped her.

“That’s my girl,” Chase whispered, voice hoarse.

“You’re not gonna like this part,” Dante said. “I’ve got audio coming in from the spyware now.”

Static hissed, then: “We got her. Send word to Cypher,” a male voice rumbled.

Chase’s heart dropped.

They were delivering her to the man they’d been chasing since the beginning.

“Cypher’s about to know he’s got leverage.” Dante’s confirmation came with a knife edge of urgency. “They’re sharing her GPS coordinates on the dark web. I intercepted the signal. There’s a bounty.”

“On her?” Chase’s jaw creaked.

“On both of you,” Dante said. “But she was the easier grab. I just found it—you were on every kill list—until she showed up. Now they want the full package.”

“How much?”

“High six figures. Enough for desperate men to risk everything.”

Chase whirled and rammed his fist into the wall. Plaster exploded under the impact and dusted the floor.

Con brought him back from the brink. “Cobra. Stay with us. Stay focused.”

He whipped around again, eyes glazing over the scene before him—rumpled bed where he and Alyssa had been entangled only hours before.

“So, what’s the play?”

Chase stared at the screen, at Alyssa being hauled into the back of a warehouse. Her phone feed showed dirty concrete, crates, two sets of boots.

She was sitting now. Breathing hard. Angry.

Alive.

He exhaled slowly. “I’m plotting a rescue op. I don’t give a shit about permission. You either back me or stay out of my way.”

Con didn’t respond right away.

Dante broke the silence. “Then let’s do it right. We’ve got a satellite sweep in ninety seconds. We find entry points, hostiles.”

Chase stared at the footage, and it suddenly hit him. “She’s still got her phone.”

“Yeah. They haven’t found it yet.”

“Or they’re letting her keep it to lure me in.”

“Exactly,” Con grated out. “So let’s use it.”

Chase closed his eyes, visualizing the space. “Warehouse grid. Typical. Two or three doors, maybe a loading dock. If they’re planning a handoff to Cypher, he’s not showing for hours. They’ll hold her because they know I’ll come looking for her.”

He checked his weapon once more, prepared to storm in and get his woman.

“I have exact coordinates,” Dante filled them in. “She’s in a secondary room—some kind of stock room or break room. Phone’s still transmitting.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Chase stormed to the door, prepared to maim, torture and kill. Only he didn’t know right from left or up from down at this second. “What do you got, Dante? You can’t just say shit !”

“They’re trying to ransom her.” Con’s response was grim as he saw it on their end. “Intercepted message just hit the web. They requested a money wire.”

“But?” Chase pushed.

“No deal,” Dante finished. “Cypher only pays out if they bring both you and Alyssa. He wants you, Chase.”

“I get her out. And we get back to the base to board that transport. We’ve only got a few hours.” Chase nodded to himself. “I hit hard and clean. She comes out with me.”

The sunset bled away to darkness by the time he exited the safehouse. Chase was suited up—tactical gear, sidearm, comms in his ear, heart on fire.

This wasn’t just a mission anymore.

This was her .

He’d let her slip through his fingers while he slept. While he let himself believe for one stupid night that they could have something normal.

Now?

He was the storm.

And no one who took Alyssa was walking away.

* * * * *

Alyssa’s arms ached from being bound at the wrists, her calves were on fire from her ankles being bound too, and she was more afraid than she’d ever been in her entire life. Being kidnapped off the street was a trauma she would deal with later—right now, she had other concerns.

Her kidnappers had covered her head during the bumpy journey to wherever she was being held. But as soon as they shoved her inside, they ripped the hood off her.

And gave her a clear view of them . They didn’t bother to conceal their identities, and the few old signs for a food delivery company that seemed to be out of business told her exactly where she was.

It didn’t take a mathematician to add up those two factors and see that they were obviously going to kill her. They’d done nothing to disguise themselves, and she could identify everything.

Her toes throbbed from kicking that man in the shin. His bone must be made of iron for how much it hurt.

Alyssa scanned the room, her gaze catching on the cracked cinderblock walls. In several places, the stone had crumbled away—scarred, she realized with a chill, in a way that looked eerily like bullet damage.

This was all her fault. The past few days spent under Julian’s protection had lulled her into a sense of security. Beside him, she felt invincible. Like no one could touch her.

All she had wanted to do was wake her lover with a fresh cup of coffee. She made the error of believing they were able to be a normal couple. When it came to relationship goals, they were so messed up it was mind-boggling.

There were never morning snuggles. No movie dates where they sat close in the dark, holding hands and sharing popcorn.

She and Julian shared stolen moments between questioning base commanders and Red Cross directors who took over after their predecessor lost their life in a bombing.

Knowing that they would never have those normal things stitched a thick thread of sadness through her, layering it with despair and an undercurrent of fear she refused to succumb to.

With a lift of her jaw, she glared at the metal door, tracing the patches of rust along the bottom until lines squiggled in front of her vision. Below the rust spots burned into her eyes was a thin sliver of light—the only freedom in sight.

All was silent around her. Not even the sounds of traffic from the street penetrated this fortress. If her kidnappers were plotting her death, they spoke in whispers she couldn’t make out.

In an attempt to free herself, she tugged on the tight rope binding her. First, she yanked with all her might in hopes that the rope simply snapped. Fat chance of that. She would have an easier time producing a knife out of thin air and hacking through the rope with no hands.

After that failed, she attempted to stretch the rope over and over in an effort to slip her hands through the loops.

All the while, her mind worked fast and furious, considering negotiation tactics and rejecting them one by one.

The tenor of her thoughts grew darker and darker as the hours dragged by, but thinking about Julian was so much worse.

Oh god. Pain stabbed her to the core. Every time she thought about her lover, she felt like someone had pierced her heart with a blade and she was slowly bleeding out drop by slow, tortured drop.

Tears swam in her vision, making a smear of the rust at the bottom of the door.

She’d never see Julian again. What broke her the most was the idea of leaving him behind to suffer after her death the same way he suffered after losing his entire team.

He didn’t know where she was. Couldn’t find any way to rescue her.

A voice in the back of her mind prodded at her. You’re wrong. Julian is the best of the best. If anyone can find you, he can.

She sat with that a while, letting her hopes rise and fall per the moment. But one thing stood out through it all—her feelings for Julian Chase never wavered.

She was falling in love with him. Hell, she might already be in love with him.

Sucking in a quick breath, she turned that thread over and over in her mind, examining the possibility from all angles.

If she lived through this, and they got home in one piece…then what? They lived very different lives. His line of duty took him to all corners of the world, ones they’d touched on in only the briefest way over dinner. And her career required not only travel but long spells out of her home country.

They’d never see each other.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t want a chance at happiness, dammit.

A lump thickened her throat, making it impossible to swallow. A cry built up in her lungs, and her chest heaved. When the sound broke from her, it was more like the pitiful wail of an injured animal.

Alyssa gave in to her tears for several minutes. No one was around to hear or see. So she let them flow until she finally gained enough strength to force her emotions down inside her once more.

She lifted her bound wrists, and by turning her head, was able to wipe her face on her sleeves. She didn’t test her restraints again. All she got from that were raw wrists, adorned with bleeding scrapes stuck with fibers. The ropes binding her ankles to the chair felt as if they’d worn through her pants and bit into her skin too, and her shoulders ached from the straight-backed chair.

Shadows danced across the cracked cinderblock walls. She twisted her gaze away from the chipped, pocked concrete marred by bullet holes. Her stomach turned at the sight.

At that moment, another crack appeared around the door, this time on the side as somebody entered. By the time her captor walked in, she was composed enough to shoot her own brand of bullets at him with a glare.

One of her kidnappers. Not the driver or the one who dragged her by the arms. This one was younger, in his early twenties at most. He wore a hoodie over his long tunic and cheap sneakers, all of which made him appear even younger.

Nervous energy radiated off him even though he stood completely still, just looking at her, assessing.

Alyssa swallowed hard.

Time to survive.

“Do you speak any English?” She kept her tone light, conversational. “Just a little?”

The man stiffened but took another step into the space. He shrugged. “Some.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s good. That’s really good. What’s your name?”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “Not important.”

“Okay, okay,” she said quickly to put him at ease. “I get it. No names. That’s smart.”

He didn’t answer. He moved to the far wall and leaned against it, arms crossed. The action punched her square in the gut with memories of Julian standing so similarly, his dark eyes like a steel trap closed on her.

Now all she wanted in the world was to stare into those eyes again. Because they weren’t hard, not when he looked at her.

The young man wasn’t Julian. He wasn’t tough, but he was trying to act it. And he wasn’t as hardened as her other kidnappers were.

Voices floated through the crack in the door, muffled by the cinderblocks. Rough voices exchanged commands and someone argued with another. Alyssa stayed quiet, masking her expression so the young man thought she didn’t understand.

But she did understand. Every. Single. Word.

Some accents were thicker than others, but she picked out the meaning.

One mentioned a buyer.

She turned her attention back to the young man. “Do you have a family? A wife?”

“Not important.”

Either that was his catchphrase or he didn’t have a big grasp on the English language.

They were trading her for money, but she thought it best to keep that from him.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. Eyes that on any other occasion she would call kind.

She pulled in a breath and continued, “What’s the plan? Is somebody coming for me?”

He hesitated only a beat and then nodded.

She leaned forward until her shoulders screamed in pain. “What if I can get you more money?”

“More?”

“Yes. A lot more. If you let me go, I can make a call. I can get you paid directly.”

He seemed to consider that. Alyssa kept her expression open, hopeful, with the right amount of desperation. She’d negotiated with terrorists and warlords. This was no different.

Just more personal.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he eyed her. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I want to live,” she said simply. The admission made the young man’s eyes sharpen with respect. She barreled forward, risking it all by letting him know that she understood every word those men spoke when they argued about her.

“If your friends deliver me to Cypher—”

His eyes registered the name.

“—they’ll get nothing. The deal was for both of us—me and my partner. Without him, the price goes down, maybe to zero.”

He looked shaken.

She struck hard and fast like a cobra. She leaned in again.

“You help me now, I make sure you get something. Ten thousand. Maybe twenty.”

He glanced toward the door, then back at her. For a moment, her heart hovered somewhere near that lump in her throat. Then the others came in.

The room filled with more than the three men who’d kidnapped her off the street. There were five in total.

Too many for Julian to handle even if he did find her.

A thickset man with a rifle slung over his shoulder looked at the young man and barked out an order. Alyssa caught “ stay in your place” and “ don’t talk to her.”

The young man retreated to the door and slipped out.

“Please,” she whispered to the leader.

He stepped toward her, footsteps heavy. Her heart pounded hard, and a sickening ball of dread swirled in her stomach, but she forced herself to meet his stare.

He glowered down at her. Five seconds passed. Then ten.

He turned for the door and left without a word.

The door slammed with an iron clang she felt reverberating in the pit of her soul. A cry of hopelessness echoed the noise, and she bowed her head, fighting tears.

She’d believed—for just a moment—that the young man was her ticket out. Now the tiny hope was snuffed out.

She rolled her neck back and stared at the stained ceiling. Her ears strained for a sound—something she recognized, anything that would tell her that Julian had found her.

But all she heard was silence.