Page 15

FIFTE EN

C hase leaned into the tight bends, hunched over the scooter. Dust blew in his face, and his fists locked on the handlebars like he had his fingers wrapped around the necks of those men who’d taken Alyssa.

The damn thing wouldn’t move fast enough. The engine screamed to the breaking point, but he screamed louder. “Come on! Faster!”

As he blew past the empty stalls of the vendors who had all gone home, the city blurred past his vision. But ahead, a cart blocked half the alley.

“Fuck!” Chase whipped the scooter to the right, dodging it by inches.

The minute Dante gave him the last ping from Alyssa’s phone, he’d taken off. To hell with plans. He didn’t need it. He had to get to her. Every second she was out of his sight left a new gash carved deeper in his soul, right next to the barely healed scars slashed into him after losing his team.

Screeching around a corner, he nearly careened into another cart carrying melons. The driver swerved to avoid hitting him too, and his curse in Arabic was lost as Chase sped away.

Alyssa. Baby. I’m coming.

She was out there somewhere, lost and alone. Trapped. Maybe worse.

He jerked his mind away from the thought. He couldn’t lose her, not now. He’d just found her.

His jaw clenched hard with determination as he sped up a straightaway, weaving around pedestrians then ducking under a hanging banner.

After losing Echo team, he never fully grieved before he made the sidestep to Charlie. He embraced having new brothers to fight beside. Now…he was alone in a way he’d never been before.

Echo team was gone. Dead.

And his brothers in Charlie? They weren’t here. He had no cover, no backup, nobody watching his six.

He was truly on his own.

As it sank in, he pushed the throttle harder. The woman he was falling in love with was out there, and it was up to him to get her back.

He just hoped he wasn’t already too late.

The last ping received from her phone was only blocks away now. The map was etched into the folds of his brain.

He didn’t have much of a plan, but he was good at thinking on the fly. His brothers hadn’t given him the nickname Cobra for no reason—and he planned on striking with the swiftness of the snake.

When the building came into the scope of his sight, his stomach clenched. Alyssa was here. He could feel it.

He had no idea what he was walking into. There might be an army hiding inside those crumbling block walls, and as much confidence as he had about his own abilities, he was still one man.

He had to use his head. He couldn’t just go in there with guns blazing, and although a few flashbangs he had stuffed in his jacket would aid his cause, he couldn’t just drive up on the scooter, jump off and kick in the door.

Swiftly, he turned the corner and parked the scooter within range for a quick getaway once he got Alyssa out.

If I get her out.

No. He wasn’t going to think like that. He would get her out. He would do this.

After ditching the ride, he raced to the side of the building, his chest tight, his breath held. The place was a relic from decades past, gray blocks mottled with stains from the metal roof that had streaked rust down the walls like tears.

Weeds pushed through every crack in the pavement, and in spots no pavement even existed, leaving patches of barren ground where nothing grew at all.

The wind carried the odor of scorched rubber. A dented van with mismatched doors of black and gray idled in front of a closed garage door.

That had to be the one they’d snatched her in. His jaw clenched at the thought of Alyssa in there, maybe hurt, maybe worse.

With a quick sweep of the area, he took stock. Two doors—one on the front, one on the side. The van blocked the garage door, which meant it was their only way out.

If he torched it…they’d come running.

It was a risk, but it was all he had.

Creeping low, he kept to the back of the building, skirting around rusted barrels and forgotten pallets. No guards were in sight. Good. It meant they weren’t watching for company.

Probably didn’t expect him to find her.

Then why did they let her keep her phone? Either they were luring him into a trap, or they were sloppy criminals who never bothered to check if the woman they kidnapped had a phone on her until they had her in the warehouse.

He pushed out of his crouch and stole a peek in a window. No lights either.

From a pocket, he pulled a homemade incendiary—just a fuel-soaked rag and a flare. Not pretty. But it’d work.

He jammed the rag into the van’s gas port and struck the flare. The moment it caught, he backed away fast, jogging behind the nearest low wall.

The boom wasn’t huge, but it was enough. Fire whooshed up and black smoke mushroomed skyward.

Shouts followed. Doors opened. Three men rushed out, weapons drawn, but they were scattered and disorganized. One of them even ran straight into Chase’s line of fire.

He didn’t hesitate. He took the first guy down with a double tap to the chest. The next spun, trying to backpedal behind the burning van, but Chase was already sighted in.

Two more shots.

The third ran—he was younger than the rest. Chase let him. If the gas tank exploded, he’d be taken out too.

He only wanted Alyssa.

He crossed the lot at a sprint, boots slapping through ash and debris, weapon raised. When he reached the side door, he kicked it in.

He took in the dim light, the oil-stained concrete floor. Empty crates were stacked in one corner.

Footsteps.

He turned and spotted a fourth man coming down the hall. The guy raised his gun—too slow. Chase dropped him with one shot.

Heart pounding, he cleared the next room, then the next, filled with broken shelves and worktables.

Finally, he reached a small chamber near the back. The block walls were pitted, and several were stained with blood. Not hers—it was too old, stained the color of ochre.

A muffled sound made him swing to the side, and he saw her.

Alyssa.

She was standing, hands bound, hair mussed, blood drying at her temple. A man stood behind her, arm locked around her throat, pistol pressed against her temple.

“Don’t come any closer!” he shouted in Arabic.

Chase raised his weapon, but his finger froze on the trigger.

He could shoot. He could aim for center mass and end this.

But Alyssa was in the way.

If it were a teammate, he’d take the shot. A graze or small wound was worth it to stop the threat.

But this was her.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk it.

This is why we’re not supposed to get close. Goddammit.

The man shifted behind her. Sweat streamed down his face. The guy was panicking. Desperate.

Alyssa spoke, calm, measured, in Arabic.

“Let me go,” she said softly. “You don’t need to die. This doesn’t have to end that way.”

The man flinched. His grip loosened slightly.

“You want money, right?” she continued. “There is still a way. You help us. Help us contact Cypher.”

The man muttered something. Chase caught: “They’ll kill me.”

“Not if you help us.” Her stare fixed on Chase. To his shock, her beautiful golden-brown eyes were filled with fear, but also sparkled with love.

His stomach bottomed out.

Alyssa went on, “We can stop him. You think he cares about you? He’ll leave you here with nothing. He might even kill you.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, the man dropped the gun.

It hit the ground with a dull thud.

Chase was on him in a second, yanking him back, shoving him to the ground and securing his hands with a zip-tie.

Then, heart pounding, he turned to her.

Alyssa sagged forward, relief washing over her beautiful face.

He caught her in his arms, holding her to him for just a beat longer than necessary.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Just bruises and scrapes,” she whispered.

He cut her bonds and pulled her against him, feeling the tremors racking her body, but feeling his too. He brushed his lips over her hair. “You’re incredible.”

Then he looked down at the man still breathing heavily on the ground.

“Time to earn your second chance,” Chase growled. “You’re going to get on the dark web. You’re going to help us contact Cypher.”

The man nodded once, still shaking.

Chase hauled him to his feet, grabbed Alyssa’s hand, and led them both out of hell.

They weren’t done yet.

But they were close.

Closer than ever.

* * * * *

Alyssa centered her gaze on Julian’s rugged features—and she couldn’t look away.

He was really here. He found her.

Questions bobbed through her mind, but there was time for them later. She clung to his side, half using him for support. After being tied up, and blood flow to her limbs limited, she felt weak and unsteady. But Julian was unbreakable steel.

His strong arm around her waist anchored her. When the leader of the group who kidnapped her yanked her to her feet and placed a gun to her temple, she thought it was all over.

She was wrong.

It was just starting.

She firmed her legs and stared at the man who had been in charge up until the time when Julian burst in. “Where is your computer?” Her Arabic came out clear.

Julian, catching the note of fury still riding in her tone, turned his head and looked at her. She felt his gaze searing into her and didn’t dare risk looking back at him. The minute she saw concern in his eyes, she might falter.

They couldn’t let go of their chance to capture the man behind everything—and this guy had a direct line to him.

When the leader didn’t immediately respond, Julian raised his arm and aimed his weapon at his chest. “The lady asked you a question. The polite thing is to respond.” His Arabic was harsher, grittier, but each word was executed with precision.

The leader’s expression gave nothing away. “Follow me.”

As soon as he turned his back on them, Julian urged her forward. The man took two slow steps and then broke into a run.

“Stop!” Julian squeezed off a shot that blew right past the man. A warning that the man took.

He froze, hands up.

Julian closed the gap in two strides, pressing the barrel of his weapon between his shoulder blades. “Slowly.”

Alyssa’s stomach pitched. Whenever she walked into a situation where she had to negotiate for lives, she always had a read on how it would turn out. This? She didn’t have a damn clue. The man was a wild card, desperate, and he wasn’t above playing dirty to get away.

Julian reached back to grasp her by the hand, and she meshed their fingers, relieved to have him to guide and protect her.

Other emotions rose to the surface, leaving her heart beating erratically.

He led the way to a small space that may have once been an office. The room was airless, and sweat zigzagged down Alyssa’s spine. Great. Just what she needed right now—stress sweat.

Julian pointed at the overhead light, and her kidnapper reached up to tug a chain. The bare bulb gave off a greenish glare over the room.

A metal desk against the wall held a single computer system. The old model looked like it hadn’t been updated for a decade, but the screen glowed white-blue.

Julian jabbed a finger at the chair for the man to sit. He quickly sank to the seat without a glance at either of them.

Julian dipped his head, stare steady on hers. A question burned like a candle in his eyes. You okay?

Her wrists were raw from the ropes and her heart hammered too fast, but she nodded, then moved forward to stand behind the kidnapper with a full view of the monitor.

Julian stood over the kidnapper, who now trembled at the mere sound of their voices. The knowledge should make her feel more in control, but it sickened her.

After firing more questions at him, the man gave his name—Kareem. He was in his late twenties, scared shitless, and right now, he was their only way to reach Cypher.

“Can you do it?” Her voice sounded gentler than she felt. She was wired tight. After all that happened, she was barely holding it together. “Can you contact him?”

Kareem lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “He isn’t pleased. He wouldn’t pay until we had both of you.” He fell short of looking at them directly, but his eyes moved from Alyssa’s feet to Julian’s.

“Then tell him you have both of us,” she instructed.

Kareem twisted to face the battered computer that looked to have been dragged through a war—or used as a shield at some point. A ripple of disgust rolled down her spine at the thought of that bloodstain on the cinderblocks.

Julian settled a palm on her spine, grounding her once more, and she pressed back lightly into his touch.

Kareem began typing, navigating through dark web portals he used to communicate with Cypher.

The cursor blinked on the blank message. “What do I tell him?”

“Tell him I came looking for the woman and walked right into the trap. Say whatever you have to. Just get him on the goddamn screen.”

Kareem hesitated only a moment before setting his fingers to the keys again. Alyssa leaned forward to read the small font, her stomach tight. She couldn’t shake the bruising pressure of the leader’s arm locked across her throat or the cold edge of the gun in her temple.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she gripped the back of the chair Kareem was sitting on.

They waited for a response.

Minutes crawled by like hours. The air in the room grew thicker, a weight pressing on her lungs. She took an unsteady breath, but it didn’t wipe away the sensation of being suffocated.

The laptop buzzed once, and a message box opened.

Nice try. Until next time.

The screen blinked and vanished, wiping out even the cursor, leaving only blackness.

Julian bent over the desk, slamming a fist into the top with a metallic crash that echoed through the hollow building. “What the hell?”

“He never stays long.” A shadow of shame crossed Kareem’s face.

Alyssa stared at the dark screen, heart sinking, her fingers clenched against her thigh.

Julian pushed off the desk. “We almost had the bastard.”

“And we will again.” She reached out to touch his arm, almost believing what she said.

His dark eyes washed over her face. “We don’t have much time.”

They had a military transport waiting for them. While she had lost all track of time, she knew the clock was probably winding down faster than they wanted.

She threw a look at Kareem. “What do we do with him?”

Julian’s expression was too neutral.

She shook her head. “No.”

“There’s no other way.”

“You can’t just…” She waved a hand toward the man whose gaze bounced back and forth between them.

For a long moment, Julian didn’t speak or even blink. But she knew the SEAL in him was forming a plan.

When he took out his phone and spoke to someone on the other end of the line in clipped monosyllables, she held her breath. As soon as he ended the call, she searched his eyes.

The grim set of his jaw kept her from asking for particulars. But within half an hour, Commander Thorne’s assistant, Lieutenant Rezvan, showed up.

Julian propelled Kareem out of the office to meet him. As Rezvan stepped around the pool of blood surrounding one of her kidnappers, Alyssa twisted her face away. Her stomach pitched even as anger sparked like metal on pavement.

Julian handed over Kareem, briefing him in a few short words about the kidnapping and that he was trying to ransom an ambassador. “Take him to the base and lock him up.”

Rezvan gave a swift nod. “I’ll see to it.”

When Julian curled his fingers around her arm, even lightly, she winced, the tender bruises she bore complaining.

Julian gently held on to her elbow like she might shatter.

Alyssa didn’t protest. She didn’t have the strength, not yet. And something about the way he was hovering, hyper-alert, made her throat ache. His palm was warm and steady, grounding her even if the rest of her felt like it was still tied to that damn chair, fighting for breath.

“Julian…”

He looked at her, waiting.

“How did you find me?”

“Dante.”

“How?”

“Satellite feed.”

She touched her fingertips to her temple, the one that Kareem hadn’t bashed with the pistol. “My mind’s a little unsettled after what I went through, but that sounds confusing in a good moment.”

Then it hit her.

“Dante messed with my phone.”

He stroked his fingers over the curve of her cheek. “Thank Christ he did.”

She covered his hand with her own. “Yes. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

Navigating the streets by scooter felt the same. The safehouse hadn’t changed. The same cracked sidewalks, the sun-faded murals on concrete walls, the same cluster of stray cats lurking near the alley dumpster. But it all felt off now—tainted.

When they ditched the scooter on the side of the street and approached the head of the alley, she saw them.

Two dark coffee stains on the pavement. She stopped short.

Julian noticed, eyes tracking hers. “What is it?”

She stared at the stains, her chest tightening. “Those drinks…were for us. I was going to bring them into the house and sit with you on the bed, pass you your cup…just have a normal moment. Like normal people.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then his fingers squeezed hers gently.

She gave him a sad smile and turned away from the stain before it pulled her under.

Inside the safehouse, everything looked smaller. Bleaker. Like the room had collapsed in on itself. The bed they’d shared was a mess of rumpled sheets. Her boots lay kicked to one side, laces trailing like they’d been abandoned mid-thought. She remembered thinking she’d only be gone a minute.

Funny how one minute could unravel your entire life.

Julian gathered their gear. She moved automatically, folding what little she had and packing it with methodical detachment. Her body ached. Her mind raced. Her heart tried to keep up.

She looked over at him as he jammed the last of his clothes into his bag. He hadn’t said much since pulling her out of that warehouse, and every time she caught him looking at her, there was something behind his eyes. Guilt. Fury. Fear.

She wanted to tell him it was okay. That she was okay. But the words didn’t feel true yet.

By the time they made it back to the base, the sun was long gone, the tarmac nothing but shadows. They moved like ghosts—silent, burned out, haunted.

Commander Thorne met them at the gate and waved them through without a single word to them. A military-grade bird waited, idling on the far end of the runway.

Julian didn’t say anything as they climbed inside. She sank into the seat across from him, watching his face in the scant light. He looked exhausted. His knuckles were scraped, his shoulders locked.

She wanted to say something. Anything.

But all that came out was, “It’s going to feel good to be on American soil again.”

Julian looked up and gave her a weary grin. “Hell yes.”

She glanced out the window at the last sliver of Syria. Dirt, smoke, and stone. And somewhere out there, Cypher was watching. Waiting.

“Also going to feel a little sad,” she admitted.

Julian frowned. “Sad?”

She nodded. “The safehouse. The scooter. Our time… We’ll never have that again.”

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at her like he was memorizing her face.

“No,” he said finally. “We won’t.”

She swallowed hard. Something tightened in her chest.

Goodbye to their love nest.

Goodbye to stolen time.

They came from different worlds, worlds that never mixed for long.

Because she was a diplomat.

And he was a SEAL.

But God, she’d remember every second of it.

And she knew, without a doubt, he would too.