Danger Close (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 1) (20 page)

"We'll call GEF to request her cell number," Mad Max had suggested. But after an hour of trying and failing to reach a live human being on a weekend, the CO had given up.

In desperation, Sam had dashed across the street to beg Lucía for Maddy's number. Lucía had referred him to Ricardo, who still lay in the hospital recovering. At precisely 0600, the soonest that visitors were permitted to see patients, Sam had burst into Ricardo's room.

"Maddy's gone," he'd announced without preamble.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The terrorists took her. I guess she never told you that she was in the lab when they killed the security guard and stole the nitric acid, did she? Well, she was," he added, as Ricardo's eyes had widened in horror and the implications had registered on his swarthy face. "They threatened to kill her if she told anyone."

Ricardo had started struggling out of bed, and Sam had ordered him to lie back down. "She had her phone with her," he'd explained. "But we need her number so we can use the phone's GPS to find her."

Ultimately, Ricardo had offered him more than just a number. He'd informed him that Maddy had registered her phone with AccuTracking, which meant that anyone in law enforcement could find the phone by plugging in her number.

Sam had taken that encouraging news straight to his leaders. Lt. Lindstrom had promptly called his wife, an FBI special agent. Pledging to keep Maddy's kidnapping a secret for the time being, Hannah Lindstrom had used AccuTracking to provide the SEALs with the exact latitude and longitude of Maddy's satellite phone. JSOTF then linked them to a satellite perfectly situated to send them live images of the area where her phone was located—eighteen miles north of Mariscal Estigarribia.

"Got 'em," Master Chief said, opening the first image. Sam sat forward in his seat, straining for a better view. The pixelated images focused abruptly, showing the top of a white van amidst sand and scrub brush.

Master Chief toggled in, and a few more details came into view, like the broken taillights. He toggled way out. There was nothing but a rolling savannah and a couple of palm groves for miles in any direction. If Maddy was in the same place her phone was, then she was out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Subsequent photos taken five and ten minutes later showed no movement, no signs of life whatsoever. Moreover, there was no option of seeing what had happened earlier, as the satellite had just begun to sweep over the area.

It was Bronco, a trained tracker, who pointed out a faint set of tracks leading south. "Someone walked away," he stated. "Headed back to town."

"That's a long walk," Kuzinsky observed.

"She could have been dropped off anywhere along the way, and just her phone was left behind," Jeremiah suggested.

Or she might still be lying in that van with a bullet in her head
. Sam thrust the unwanted image from his mind. "Can AccuTracker trace the route she took?"

The Ops officer shook his head. "Not unless she made a call along the way."

Sam's hopes for a quick recovery hit another wall. He looked back at the screen, his eyes burning for lack of sleep.
Lyle Scott is going to blame me for this
, he thought with a guilty conscience.
And I deserve every ounce of the man's condemnation. I should have protected Maddy myself, not left it up to a SEAL with limited experience.

He sent the CO an imploring look. "What are we waiting for, sir? We know where to start searching."

Mad Max's long stare made him regret asking. "Nightfall, Lieutenant," he said in a voice that managed to be both condescending and sympathetic at the same time. Straining the joints in his chair, the CO leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"Operation Anaconda was supposed to be a purely military operation," he reflected, chiding the group in general, though Sam knew the man's words were directed at him. "Now that there's a civilian involved—a high-profile
American
civilian—our activity down here is going to fall under scrutiny, especially if we fail to handle this situation effectively and quietly."

In other words, if they failed to liberate Maddy, the whole world was going to hear about the SEALs in Paraguay. Their agenda would be discussed over dinner tables all across America, which was not a good thing as everything SEALs did was supposed to be clandestine. Sam's temples throbbed with self-condemnation.

"Get some rest," the CO added, thumping the table with both hands as he pushed to his feet. "You can expect to head out at sunset. Charlie Platoon remains here unless you require them for backup."

The only reason they would need backup was if they found Maddy too well-protected to be wrested away by one platoon.

Sam rolled to his feet. As tired as he was, he couldn't imagine falling asleep right now, not with his imagination spawning vignettes of Maddy being raped and tortured. Meeting the gazes of his leading petty officers, he sent them a nod, knowing he could count on them to alert the lower enlisted to the situation. He didn't have the heart to relay the situation himself.

"We'll find her, sir," Bullfrog assured him, laying a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder as they moved out the door and up the hallway.

"Thanks," Sam muttered. Seeing the exit ahead of him, he muttered an excuse and darted out of it.

Pushing into sunshine, he was caught off guard to find it just another ordinary day. On the other side of the military installation's wall, the townspeople of Mariscal Estigarribia went about their daily routine, unaware and apathetic to Maddy's plight. Sam put his back to the sunbaked brick hoping the warmth would drive away the chill deep inside him.

He'd been a SEAL for seven years, and in that time he'd seen a lot of scary shit. But there'd never been a circumstance that frightened him like this did. A possessive shudder traced his spine.

Maddy is mine. Those terrorists had no right to steal her.

Why had it taken her being kidnapped for him to see the truth? And just when, exactly, had he started thinking of her as his? Was it when he'd kissed her on the little bridge in her father's backyard? Or did it go back even further, to that first night in Matamoros, when he'd shielded her breasts from the leering eyes of the DEA agent? She'd definitely been his the other night when he'd brought her to climax.

And now this had happened. The fear and dread swirling inside him made it hard to breathe. He reminded himself that he'd never faced a challenge he couldn't overcome. But this time, so many matters were out of his hands. Only one thing was certain. If she survived this latest travesty, he wouldn't want to let her out of his sight again. He'd want to keep her safely by his side forever.

Convincing her to let him shelter her? Now that would be the real challenge.

Chapter 11

Maddy struggled to make sense of the argument raging downstairs, immediately below the closet in which she'd been locked all day. Her captors yelled at each other in Lebanese, practically at the top of their lungs.

She'd been let out only once since Salim had videotaped his interview with her that morning. Harsh punctuations of sound coming from the lower level had wakened her from a fitful sleep. She'd scrambled to her feet, putting her ear to the crack in the door in an effort to make sense of the words, but their dialect, so distinct from any Arabic she had ever heard, was completely unintelligible to her.

She could only think of one reason why they would bicker so heatedly: Hezbollah leaders were demanding access to the hostage.

Her heart thudded with dread at the likelihood. She'd been kept away from them since they'd seized her the first night. How long before her ransom video was delivered to GEF? How long before her father learned of her captors' demands? She couldn't live like this, trapped in a closet for hours on end.

Save me, Sam
.

Don't be stupid, she immediately scolded herself. Don't put your faith in an outcome unlikely to happen. Who knew how far away her phone had been driven? Instead of leading the SEALs to her, it might actually be sending them on a wild goose chase.

A sudden shout and the crack of a bullet had her leaping away from the door, hand clapped to her mouth to stifle a scream. Over her pounding heart she could hear Salim speaking in the commanding voice he had used at the lab, and she sagged against the wall, relieved to know that he hadn't been shot. Without his protection, she knew she was doomed.

The sound of steps on the stairs kept her motionless in the closet. What would happen now? The knob jiggled and the lock released. She backed into the corner. Would she be dragged downstairs and forced to face the others?

The door cracked open, and Salim's brilliant orbs rested on her frightened visage. "Come," he ordered, his tone still gruff with anger. He held out a hand for her to take.

Operating purely on instinct, Maddy placed her hand in his. He drew her briskly out of the closet to where his brother stood, guarding the top of the stairs with a rifle now braced across his chest. Sweeping Maddy into his dark room, Salim shut and locked the door. Then he flicked on a light, powered by the generator grinding away outside.

His stormy gaze went straight to her uncovered head. "Where is the scarf you are supposed to be wearing?" he asked sharply.

His misdirected anger made her blanch. "I'm sorry. I took it off. It was so hot in the closet—"

Her voice trailed off as his gaze dropped to her bosom, molded by the otherwise shapeless
chapan,
then slid to her bare, slender feet peeking out below its hem. The assessing quality of his gaze kept the breath wedged in her lungs. Had he brought her into his bedroom to protect her or were his intentions less chivalrous?

With a stabbing gesture, he ordered her to lie down on the nearest bed. Maddy stiffened, her blood running cold. She shook her head, no.

"Go to sleep." His impatient tone suggested he was not about to rape her.

Still mistrustful, Maddy lowered herself across the thin mattress. Her muscles tensed as Salim whisked off his shirt. His naked torso, comprised of lean muscle and matted with black hair made her think of Sam, whose chest she'd felt but never seen bare. A wave of longing swept her in its relentless path.
Where are you, Sam?

Her pulse sped up as Salim unbuckled his gun belt and dropped his pants. Horrified, she turned her head toward the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. It took every ounce of willpower not to curl into a protective ball.
This isn't happening
. The pillow under her head gave off an odor she had come to associate with him—a blend of gun oil and sandalwood.

A vision of Sam hovering tenderly over her, his body taut with desire, eyes alight with passion, drove a shaft of remorse through her so fierce that she had to catch back a sob.
Oh, Sam
. If only he'd finished what he'd begun the other night! How could she have known that might be their only chance to make love, their last night together?

She started violently at the feel of a blanket sliding over her rigid body. Whipping her head around, she brought up her hands to fend Salim off. Only then did she realize he had covered her.

"Rest," he said, mocking her frightened response with a bitter smile. Straightening away from her, he turned toward the other bed and snapped off the light.

The springs on the second bed creaked as tears of relief slid from the corners of Maddy's eyes. Through spiked leashes, she watched Salim stretch out on his moonlit bed, drape his gun belt across his stomach, and notch his hands behind his head.

"Thank you," she whispered, speaking as much to her mother's ever-present spirit as to him.

"Do not thank me yet," he replied in a grim voice that prophesied trials to come. "From now on, you must wear the scarf and do exactly as I say."

"I will," she promised.

A taut silence fell between them, filled with the sound of Salim's deep sigh as he wrestled with weighty thoughts. Maddy closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

If only a pair of SEALs would come sneaking through the window as they had in Matamoros to whisk her away.

* * *

The beleaguered van resembled a harpooned, white whale beached on a solitary shore. Sam had sensed the instant he first viewed it through his NVGs that it stood empty. He sniffed the breeze tentatively, dreading the scent of death, but smelling only fresh, savannah air. The good news was that Maddy wasn't lying dead inside the van. The bad news? They had no earthly idea where she might be.