Hacking the SEAL (Saving the SEALs Series Book 2) (6 page)

Three men. All armed. One with a semi-automatic and a laser guide pointed at Scotty’s chest. The second guarding the perimeter. The third with his arm around Hayley’s neck from behind, the barrel of his gun poised at her temple.

“Hello?” Kyle’s sleepy voice rang through the phone. “Jesus, Scotty. It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning.”

The thug with his laser hovering over Scotty’s heart, raised his chin. “Phone on the ground, asshole.”

As if to emphasize the point, the dude holding Hayley cocked his gun and smiled. “Do it, or I blow her brains all over this place.”

Fuck.

Scotty crouched slow and placed his phone on the pavement near his feet, Kyle’s voice still echoing in the early morning stillness. “Scotty, dammit. If this is some kind of prank, I’m going to find you and I will kill you.”

No prank, sir. No joke.

“Kick it over here,” laser guy said.

He did as the thug instructed then straightened, hands raised, and glanced at Hayley. She looked terrified, but unharmed, for now. Judging by the way these guys were dressed in the latest body armor with the latest assault weapons, they were private security. Government guns-for-hire didn’t have that kind of bling. So, it seemed his little hacker had drawn the attention of someone other than her FBI counterparts.

The thug crushed the screen of Scotty’s phone under the heel of his boot, never once removing his gaze from Scotty. “Good. Now, we have a message for you.”

Of course they did. Scotty avoided rolling his eyes, barely. “What?”

“Your girlfriend here for your team. Fair trade. Your choice.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Hayley bucked hard against the guy holding her and received a hard smack to the head with the butt of his gun. She went limp in his arms and Scotty winced on her behalf. Blood oozed from the fresh cut on her temple and white-hot anger surged through his veins. These fuckers would pay for that.

“Now, take a nap, soldier boy.”

Scotty snorted.
Soldier boy? Really?
Obviously he wasn’t dealing with a brain trust.

He relaxed his arms and lowered his hands and was just about to step forward and deal with these amateurs by opening a good old-fashioned can of SEAL-sized ass-whoop on them, when pain exploded in the back of his head. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the cement, his vision tunneling and the side of his face flaring with pain as his cheekbone made hard contact with the ground.

A fourth pair of combat boots filled what was left of his vision and a voice that sounded vaguely familiar echoed in his ears as the last threads of consciousness deserted him. “Your team for your girl. Your choice. You got forty-eight hours.”

“What the…” Hayley groaned softly and rolled onto her side. Squinting her eyes open, she gazed around the unfamiliar space. Nothing but bland beige walls and empty hardwood floors. The tang of fresh paint and drywall hung heavy in the dusty air.

She pushed herself up on one arm and kicked away the tarp tangled around her feet. The last thing she remembered was kissing Scotty, then someone grabbed her from behind. Then chaos. Wincing, Hayley lifted a hand to her sore temple and gently rubbed the small knot there. Whoever had taken her had whacked her good on the side of the head.

Her ears still rang slightly from the impact and she opened and closed her mouth several times to relieve the annoying buzz. This place looked like some kind of construction site. A quick check of the rest of her person showed they hadn’t done more than dump her in here, thank God. No restraints around her wrists or ankles, no other…
violations
.

A shudder ran through her.

Yeah, as much as getting kidnapped sucked, things could’ve been so much worse.

Voices sounded from the hallway outside her door and her pulse quickened. Okay. She laid back down and pretended to be out cold. That seemed like her best option—only option, really—at this point. She’d just rearranged herself on the tarp again when the door creaked open and heavy footsteps entered.

“She alive?” one of the arrivals asked. Deep, gritty voice. No accent. Male.

The footsteps moved closer and Hayley forced herself not to hold her breath. She needed these people to think she was not dead. Lack of breathing wouldn’t help her cause. A finger poked her shoulder, tipping her from her side to her back. The observer took a deep breath, then placed their hand on her neck, presumably to feel for her heart beat. “Yeah, she’s still good.”

Another male, based on the gruff tone. This one didn’t sound familiar either.

“I don’t like this,” the first guy said. “He ain’t paying me enough for this shit.”

“The fact someone’s paying you at all should make you happy, dumbass.”  The second guy, the one closest to her, said, then moved away. “Now shut the fuck up and get back downstairs for the meeting.”

Guy number one mumbled something Hayley didn’t quite catch and stomped away. Once his footsteps receded, she took a chance and peeked one eye open, glanced sideways and spotted a medium-sized man sporting burglar black and a shiny bald head. He made a slow perimeter of the room, checking the one window. As if sensing her gaze, he swiveled fast to face her and she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping like hell he hadn’t caught her snooping. Seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness as she waited for him to attack.

Finally, he walked out too, locking the door behind him.

Alone once more, Hayley stared up at the ceiling and did her best to slow her thudding heart. Were they working for Michelle? Granted, she hadn’t recognized the couple of guys she’d seen, but that didn’t mean her boss hadn’t recruited fresh blood. Or were they working for someone else, someone like Michael Becks? Her blood ran cold at the thought. From what Scotty had told her and what she’d found in the files on Natalie’s computer, they guy had wiped out his own SEAL team without a second thought. He’d have no qualms about ending her at all if it served his purposes. Either way, she’d better think of a way to escape and fast.

Despite the constant, low throb in her temple, Hayley concentrated on the details from her abduction once more.

Scotty had been on the phone with his team leader when she’d been nabbed from behind. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the cold metal gun barrel pressed to her skin, smell the slight odor of sweat from her attacker, hear his raspy breath in her ear. The way he’d held her immobile showed some type of combat training. He’d had close-cropped dark hair and bulky muscles, like a body builder. Or private security, maybe?

But what the hell would private security want with a bunch of out-of-work, down-on-their-luck SEALs? The one demand they’d made echoed in her head like a gong.

Your girlfriend here for your team. Fair trade. Your choice.

They wanted Scotty’s team, just as Michelle had, but why?

It made no sense. Unless…

Unless whoever was behind her kidnapping was also the same person who’d orchestrated the cover-up and framing of Scotty’s SEAL team. Blood thundering through her veins, Hayley scrambled to her feet. She needed to get the hell out of here and warn Scotty and his friends about what was going on.

There was the window, of course, but she’d rather not have to take that route again, except as a last resort. The two guys that had been in here had mentioned a meeting. Maybe she could find a way out of the room and sneak downstairs.

Ear to the door, she strained to hear any noises, conversations, anything. But there was nothing. Okay. She’d have to pick the lock. Those skills she’d learned back in Quantico were coming in handy yet again. She kicked off her sneaker and dug into the toe of it for her army knife. She’d at least managed to keep that hidden when they’d frisked her earlier. She flipped open the tiny tools until she came to a thin metal file. Great. Now all she needed to find was a counterbalance amongst the scattered construction supplies to trip the tumblers.

Minutes later, she’d discovered a metal paper clip binding a stack of floorboards. Not ideal, but if she twisted it just so, it might work. Hayley crouched in front of the lock and inserted the file first, then the clip. The trick was to fool the tumblers into falling into place. It was all about weights and counterweights, checks and balances, give and…

Click-click
.

The door eased open a crack and she grinned.

All righty then.

Stuffing her knife and the clip into the back pocket of her jeans, Hayley peered out into the hallway, then eased herself into the empty corridor. Low murmurs drifted upward from the floor below and she tiptoed to the edge of the upper landing, leaning over the railing slightly to make out what they were saying.

Still too far away, she eased down a few steps and stopped again. This time she caught a bit more of the conversation. Namely, “have the snipers set up around the perimeter of the C&O Canal in Georgetown” and “take out as many of those Team Ten bastards as you can”.

Oh, shit.

Hayley crept back up to her room and shut the door again. She needed to get out of here and warn Scotty. Knowing him, he’d probably already called in the cavalry to save her. Such an honorable, irritating, thoroughly intriguing man. Warmth spread outward from her chest to her extremities despite the situation. If they made it out of this… No. She shook her head.
When
they made it out of this, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. The way he always cracked jokes to make her smile, the warm, protective weight of his hand on her back as he walked with her, the way he’d stuck with her and their agreement to work together when he could’ve just as easily blown her off completely. Not to mention the guy
cooked
, for God’s sake.

Then there was the earth-shattering sex…

Yeah, I definitely need to get to know him better. Much, much better.

But her first step was escape. Outside the window was a five to six-foot drop, then a flat, industrial-style rooftop stretched for a few hundred feet or so. Five to six feet she could handle. Now if she could just get the dumb thing to budge. Nope. Not an inch. Great. Breaking the glass would only have the goon squad downstairs descending on her in seconds. She pulled out her pocket knife again. Maybe she could use the blade for leverage. Or not. It was meant for cutting, not heavy lifting. So, back to the supply pile she went. After several more minutes of searching, Hayley located the top half of a rusted old screwdriver.

She went back to the window and wedged the thing into the tiny crack between the bottom of the window and sill and pushed down hard. She’d just started to make a bit of progress when the voices returned outside her door.

Fuck.

She dove for the tarp and landed on her side, as more of her abductors returned.

“What should we do with her?” one of the guys from before asked.

“We’ll need to take her with us. She’s the bait.”

Bait?

Her heart battered against her chest. They were going to use her to lure Scotty and his team to the canal. Of course they were. The one time she’d had a decent night with a decent guy and now it would end in bloodshed.

“And the diversion,” another guy said.

Diversion? For what?

“Rigs, you grab her and tote her down,” yet another new voice said, this one more commanding than the others. “The rest of us will load the equipment in the van.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hayley still had the screwdriver clutched tight in her fist. If she timed it right… She waited until the other footsteps disappeared down the stairs and the new guy’s breathing drew nearer to her side. She could take him. She would take him down. She had no choice.

He tapped her with his boot again and she gathered her strength, then struck, driving the sharp end of the screwdriver deep into his lower leg. The guy screamed and dropped, clutching his shin. Hayley scrambled to the window.

To hell with the noise. Hayley grabbed whatever she could find and smashed the window. With the way that dude was screaming, his buddies would be up here in seconds anyway. One leg out the window, she peered back and noticed the guy’s face looked weird, kind of shiny and pink, like the skin was new and plastic. Her eyes widened. Like a burn patient.

Michael Becks.

“What the fuck?” a man yelled from the doorway behind her, but Hayley was already out the window and running for her life.

Get away. Get to Scotty. Get these bastards behind bars where they belong.

The mantra chanted through her head in time to her pounding feet.

She didn’t look back to see if anyone followed, just kept running. At the edge of the roof, she grabbed hold of a rickety old fire escape ladder and climbed down to the ground, then sprinted away as fast as her legs would take her.

Brick buildings and people blurred past as she weaved through the crowd on the sidewalk. The smell of hot asphalt and bus exhaust stung her nose. She was somewhere downtown, perhaps the old manufacturing district based on the rusted-out, abandoned spaces around her. Weak sunlight filtered through the clouds above, so it had to be mid-afternoon maybe. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but it didn’t seem longer than a few hours at most.

A phone. She needed to get to a phone to call Scotty.

The thud of heavy booted feet behind her kept her zooming forward, though she never once looked back to confirm if she was really being followed or only imagining it. She just ran and ran and ran.

Once she emerged out onto a busy street, she made a beeline for the first establishment she saw—a pawn shop. Hayley ducked inside the dimly lit store and blinked several times to allow her vision to adjust from the sunlight outside. At the counter, she took a few gulping breaths while the attendant stared at her bug-eyed. She held up a finger then swallowed hard. “Can…I…use…your…phone?”

“Uh.” The kid gave her a slow once-over. “Is it an emergency?”

“Hell…yes.”

He hesitated, then slid an old rotary dial phone across the counter to her. “Local only.”

“Thanks.”

Hayley started to dial, but the bell above the front door jangled.
Shit
. She hurried behind the counter next to the kid then plopped down on the floor, the phone in her lap, praying whoever it was had needed the same extra time to be able to see in here like she had and hadn’t spotted her.

“Uh…” The kid frowned down at Hayley and she held a finger to her lips, silently pleading with him not to give her away. He gave her a confused look then turned to face the counter again. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for a girl. Red hair, skinny. You seen her?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Becks.

The kid’s gaze darted to her then back again. “Uh, no.”

“You sure?”

Hayley felt the kid’s legs tremble beside her and she prayed he wouldn’t pee his pants.

“Yeah. I-I’m sure.”

Her assailant cursed then stormed out of the shop. The kid clutched the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip and Hayley dialed her number. “I owe you one. Thanks.”

Scotty answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said, surprised how good it was to hear his voice. “Can you come get me?”

“Where are you?” His voice sounded rough. “Are you all right, Red? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine. I got away, but Scotty they’re coming after you and your team.”

“Give me your address. I’ll be right there.”

Twenty minutes later, she was crowded beside him in a car driven by Kyle, heading to one of their safe houses in DC. These guys had more bolt holes than the Bureau, apparently. The rest of the team was there too. Gage, the light streaming in through the car window outlining his missing earlobe, sat in the passenger seat. Spencer was squished in on one side of her, his strawberry blond hair, blowing in the breeze from his open window and his hand on his weapon just in case of attack, while Scotty guarded her on the other.