HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (8 page)

A
s the shock
of the explosion rolled over the convoy, Remy shoved Christina behind him as if he could somehow protect her from a second blast. People screamed. The air was heavy with the scents of metal, fuel, and charred flesh.

Remy flipped down the NVG visor attached to his helmet and scanned the darkness. Shapes ran across his field of vision, the flames from the detonation licking the vehicles about a quarter mile or so back.

His team sprang into action the moment the blast happened, every man either scouting the perimeter, protecting the civilians in their custody, or guarding their position from enemy fire.

“Goddammit,” Viking said into Remy’s earpiece. “Get down there and see what’s happening. We’re going to have to abandon this van and cram into one. It’s looking like the only choice.”

Remy acknowledged the order, pushing Christina into Cowboy’s arms before hurrying down the line toward the blast site with Money and Camel. They wouldn’t get too close, but they needed to assess the situation before they bugged out.

Remy’s stomach churned with disgust and anger the closer they got. People were in shock, huddling together, screaming, crying. There were disembodied limbs on the ground, bodies twisted into unidentifiable lumps, and the strong odor of bleach.

He exchanged a look with his teammates. This blast wasn’t military grade but very likely triacetone triperoxide, aka TATP, manufactured by an extremist group. The components were easy to acquire, and the process wasn’t too difficult.

That meant the fires were coming from the exploded gas tanks of the vehicles and not from the TATP itself, which produced a lot of gas rather than flame when it detonated. It was also highly volatile, which meant a small amount could inflict heavy damage.

Sonofabitch.

He hated the pain and fear he saw on people’s faces, but there was nothing he could do about it—and that was a sick fucking feeling to have. It brought up every rotten ghost in his past, every skeleton he couldn’t bury. He’d joined up to help protect his nation, but sometimes that meant making hard choices. Like now when the SEALs had to get the hell out of here instead of helping the injured.

“Report.” It was Viking’s voice in his ear.

“TATP. A lot of dead and wounded.”

“Fuck,” Viking said. “Are there any medical personnel?”

Remy scanned the area, focusing on the men and women who ran back and forth between the victims, stooping down and then yelling for aid. Presently someone appeared with a medical kit.

“There appear to be some medics on scene.” No idea where they’d come from, but since the city was emptying out, the chances of them being in the convoy were as good as any. They couldn’t save anyone in need of surgery—no one could—but they could save those who could still be helped.

“Thank God,” Viking muttered.

Suddenly Remy spotted a man with a rifle silhouetted against the fires before he ducked behind a vehicle a few yards back. It could be nothing, but in this situation it didn’t pay to take a chance.

“Gunman at six o’clock,” he barked to his guys. They dropped as one unit into the sand. “See anything, Camel?”

Alex Kamarov was their sniper. Camel could take down target after target for hours without missing a beat. All the SEALs were expert marksman, but Camel was the one who could take the difficult shots and make them work every time.

Camel had his eye to his scope. “Nothing.”

At that moment, a bullet whizzed over their heads before the sound of the shot cracked into the night.

“Son of a bitch,” Remy said into the mic. “We’re taking fire.”

Just what they fucking needed with the carnage all around them. These people had been through enough tonight, and now this too.

“I can go around,” Camel said. “Twenty yards to the left and I’ll have a clear shot. But you two need to keep his attention.”

“Yeah, go on, we got it,” Remy said.

“Don’t lift your head for more than a split second,” Camel warned. “If he’s any good, you won’t have time to wonder if he’s going to shoot.”

“Yes, dear,” Money drawled.

Camel slunk away into the night while Remy kept his gaze on the vehicle where the gunman had gone. He couldn’t see any legs, which meant the guy was either hiding behind the tire or not there anymore.

Still, if they were going to give Camel a chance, he had to raise his head. He lifted up and then ducked back down. Another bullet whizzed overhead. This dude had definitely tagged them as a target.

Money popped up this time and another bullet sounded in the night. And then a second bullet sounded, only this one came from the left.

“Mission accomplished,” Camel said coolly in their ears.

“Thank fuck,” Viking replied. “Get your asses back here. We’re leaving ASAP.”

The three of them humped it back to the group. Cowboy and Viking were waiting outside the vans, both of which were now running. Remy breathed a sigh of relief. They could have all crammed into—and on top of—one van, but it would have been rough going.

“We’re going to split into two groups again. If we have to go our separate ways, we can.” Viking eyed him. “What do you think about our gunman?”

Remy shrugged. “Opportunist. If there was anyone looking for us, they’d have sent more than one guy. I think he saw us in our gear, identified us as Americans, and decided to take the shot.”

“Agreed,” Camel said. “I saw no one else in the scope, no other activity or signs of an enemy.”

“It’s possible that’s who got blown up,” Remy added. “If a group of tangos were transporting TATP, it could have exploded and killed everyone—except this guy who might have been out taking a piss.”

“That’s likely,” Viking said. “That shit is seriously unstable.”

Cowboy took out a map and Viking ran his finger along a route. Of course they had GPS, but they still did things old-school too. You never knew when you’d be out of range of a satellite, or when everything would go to hell and you had to know how to navigate and survive without aid.

“We’ll head for Akhira. It’s our best choice now. If we can get there, we’ll hitch a ride with one of the patrol boats. They can get us to a Navy ship, and we can helo these people out from there.”

With traffic at a standstill on the road to Merak, and with the chaos ensuing across Qu’rim, there really was no single best way to go. They were all risky. But Akhira was closest, and speed was of the essence. The rebels hadn’t cut off Akhira yet, though it was a possibility. Merak was safer, but the only bridge across the wadi was blocked. There wasn’t another crossing for a good fifty miles in either direction.

“Same groups as before?” Remy asked, suddenly unable to bear the thought of Christina in a different van. What if they had to split up? He wouldn’t know where she was or what was happening to her. He shouldn’t care, but he did. Damn her.

Hell, even now he wondered how she was faring after the explosion. She’d launched herself into his arms when someone screamed right before the bomb went off. And then she’d clung tightly to him as the convoy erupted.

He’d felt her fear, but he hadn’t been able to comfort her because he’d had to go to work.

Viking gave him a look. “I’m splitting the women up.”

“All right.” He wasn’t going to argue if Viking took Christina into his group. But he wouldn’t like it either.

“Christina Girard is with you,” Viking said. “I’ll take Penny. You get the bodyguard and Donovan Taylor. He’s a lawyer working for a foreign gun manufacturer, by the way. Three guesses what he’s here for.”

“Every war needs guns,” Remy said flatly, though he was relieved he still had Christina in his van.

“Yeah, no doubt.” Viking took a step back. “All right, let’s get rolling.”

* * *

S
he was still wearing
his shirt. Remy ducked into the van and found Christina huddled on a seat, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked up as he entered the interior, her gray eyes wild—but then she seemed to calm somewhat as their gazes clashed.

He didn’t know what that meant, but it kicked him hard in the chest. Did she trust him? Or was she scared for him and just relieved he’d returned? He didn’t know and he couldn’t ask.

She looked so out of place here. She was elegant and petite, a gorgeous butterfly that didn’t belong in the dust and squalor of this place. He wanted to go over and take her in his arms, but that wasn’t going to happen either. Not out here. Not in front of all these people. Maybe never again considering the fact she’d been the one to walk away six months ago.

He’d told her he was over her. And he was, goddammit. He’d never been hung up on her in the first place—yet he’d liked her. A lot. She had a way of turning his protective instincts on high. He wanted to fix things for her. Take care of her.

But she didn’t want that from him. She’d made that clear when she’d ignored him after their single night together. She’d gotten what she wanted, and then she’d bounced out of his life.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the van lurched into motion.

“Somewhere we can get all of you out of here,” he replied.

“And where is that?” Donovan Taylor demanded. “I think we have a right to know.”

“Actually, you don’t,” Remy said coolly. “You just need to hope we get where we’re going as quickly as possible.”

“What happened out there?” Christina asked. “Was anyone hurt?”

Remy exchanged a look with Money. The other man arched an eyebrow as if to say,
What the fuck, go ahead.

“It’s a war zone. Yeah, people were hurt,” Remy replied.

“They need guns to defend themselves,” Taylor said.

“Because guns work really well against bombs, especially when you don’t know there’s one nearby,” Money drawled. Dude had a way of going straight for the throat that Remy loved.

Taylor’s jaw tightened. Well, fuck him. Asshole had an agenda anyway.

“Look, it happened,” Remy cut in before Taylor could speak and piss everyone off more than he already had. “Qu’rim is being torn apart by extremists, rebels, and their own government. We need to get the fuck out of here before we get torn apart along with it. Everyone can save their opinions of the war, the causes, and how to stop it for back home at the neighborhood bar, all right? Ain’t nobody here got time to listen to it.”

Silence fell for a few moments. It was too good to last.

“This fucking blows,” Taylor said. “I’ve got business with the Qu’rimi government and yet I’m out here, screwing around in the desert with a bunch of commandos who don’t know whether to jerk off or take a piss.”

Remy made a mental note that he needed to figure a way to get back at Viking for saddling him with this jerk. “We can drop you off,” he growled. “I’d be happy to open the door and let you exit. You just say the word.”

Money put his hand on the door latch. “Slides open sweet as you please. Not a bit of trouble, asshole, you wanna go.”

Taylor thrust out his jaw and kept his mouth shut. Wise move, though Remy wasn’t sure he’d keep it shut. Probably he was working up another insult.

“Are we in danger?” Christina asked suddenly, her sweet voice cutting into the tension like a hot knife through an ice cream cake.

Remy’s gaze slid from the lawyer to her. She looked a bit pale, a bit tense—but she also looked like a woman intent on defusing a situation before it went nuclear. Not that it would go nuclear. Remy was annoyed, but he was also a professional. As much as he might like to kick that little fucker’s ass out of the van, he wasn’t going to do it. And he wasn’t letting Money do it either.

“You aren’t in any more danger than you ever were,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her definition of
we.

Christina’s gaze didn’t falter. “Will they—the rebels—be looking for Americans to capture?”

“Honey, someone around here is always looking for Americans to capture. It’s the nature of the war.”

She darted her tongue out to lick her lips, and his balls tightened. Not precisely the reaction he expected. He leaned his bulk against the van wall and let his gaze drink her in even as her cheeks grew red and her eyes dropped away for a second.

“I’m not going to let that happen, Christina. Promise.”

Gray eyes snapped to his again. He could see the question in them. Did he mean he wasn’t going to let her get captured—or that he wasn’t going to allow the attraction he still felt for her to flare to life again?

He hardened his expression, sending her a message.
Both, baby. Both.

C
hristina didn’t expect
to sleep, not after the frightening explosion, the screams and smells, and the deadly calm of the SEALs as they dealt with things too horrifying to have to deal with. But, somehow, she did fall asleep as the van rocked back and forth across the sand, moving toward some destination she didn’t know.

When she awakened, the van had stopped. Her heart shot into her throat and she bolted upright. She had a bench seat to herself, apparently—and she was still wrapped in Remy’s shirt.

She was also alone. She rocketed to her feet, swaying as she moved too fast and the blood in her head rushed to the floor. She shot an arm out to steady herself against the metal wall.

The door opened and a head peered in. “You’re awake.”

Remy. Oh dear Jesus…

“I am. Where is everyone?” Her heart pounded like she’d just run a marathon and her head was still swimmy, but she managed not to fall onto her butt and alert him that she was having a weak moment.

“We’ve had a change of plans. Safe house. They’ve gone inside.”

Well, at least that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Christina swallowed and took her hand off the wall. She didn’t feel shaky, so she moved toward Remy and the door. He stood back and then reached out to help her down. She meant to tell him she could do it herself, but his hands closed around her waist and then he lifted her with ease and set her on the sand.

She was still reeling from the contact when his hands fell away from her body, and disappointment flooded her. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and calm her racing heart. She was standing in a courtyard of some type, and there was a house. A wall ringed the house and grounds. The other van sat nearby. There were two other cars as well. Lights flickered inside the house.

She took it all in, her mind churning. “What kind of safe house?”

Remy’s teeth flashed in what she thought might be a grin, except it was too dark to really know. “Best you don’t ask that question,
cher.
Friendlies though.”

She cocked her head. “Are you sure?”

“Reasonably. You’ll see. These guys are mercenaries. American and foreign, but not terrorists.”

“Why did you leave me in the van?”

“I didn’t leave you. Everyone just now went inside, and I came to wake you.”

“Oh… Where are we, Remy?”

“Still in Qu’rim.”

A current of worry slid through her. “This wasn’t part of the plan, was it? Stopping here, I mean.”

He shrugged. “The plan is fluid, babe. It has to be.”

“Something must be happening where you were taking us, or we wouldn’t have stopped.”

His eyes were unreadable. They were too dark. “Something
is
happening. Qu’rim is in the midst of a civil war, and those fuckers are unpredictable as hell. But then you were told that before you chose to come here.”

“You can’t miss an opportunity to let me know what you think, can you?” He pissed her off sometimes, and yet what could she really say? Qu’rim had been in the midst of a civil war for a couple of years now. It was mostly business as usual in spite of that.

Until the rebels took Baq. That was the game changer, unfortunately.

“You’re in danger because you didn’t think Matt or I knew what we were talking about. You had to do it your way, Christina, and to hell with what we told you.”

Okay, that stung. And it wasn’t true. It wasn’t that she hadn’t listened, but hell, if she never went to any of the countries where there was instability, Girard Oil wouldn’t get anything done.

And yet she could have tried to get Sheikh Fahd onto her territory. Or at least to Dubai. But he’d been so difficult to pin down that when he’d finally agreed to meet with her, she hadn’t wasted a moment trying to negotiate another location.

“You have a job to do, Remy. I have one too. I’m here because I was doing it.”

He made a sound that she was certain was meant to be derisive. Whatever.

“Inside, princess. We clearly aren’t going to agree, and the sun’ll be up soon.”

She walked in front of him to the door that was really just a dark blanket over an opening. Remy pushed it aside, his arm brushing against her head, and she ducked inside.

The accommodations were basic, to say the least. The floor was nothing more than packed dirt, and there were stairs against one wall. The odor of sweat and exertion hung heavy in the air.

She recognized all the SEALs, but there were a couple of other guys too. They were also dressed in desert camouflage and had weapons strapped to their sides. She couldn’t tell their nationality by looking at them, but they didn’t appear to be Middle Eastern.

The SEALs and their charges were tearing into packages, pulling out food while the other guys talked. Not quite what she’d expected. Her stomach rumbled as if on cue, and Remy thrust a package into her hand. It was a little bigger than a brick and wrapped in tan plastic.

“Dinner,” he said. “Follow the instructions. After that we’ll sort out where to put everyone for now.”

She looked at what she held. The package said MRE in big brown letters. Beneath that it said MEAL, READY TO EAT. It also had information on where it was packed and what it contained—in this case, penne with vegetable sausage crumbles in a spicy tomato sauce.

At the top of the package, she was told that it was held closed by a peelable seal. She glanced at Remy, but he’d already turned away. She started to peel the plastic open as she went over and sat down with Penny and her boss, a banker named Robert. Nobody spoke. The SEALs talked in a low hum with the guys whose place this must be, but the six people they were evacuating did not. Some ate quickly, eyes darting around the dimly lit room as if they couldn’t believe they were here. Others kept their gazes on the ground or the food.

“How are you doing, Penny?” Christina asked when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Which was odd for her considering she was an introvert and always had been.

The woman looked up, startled eyes wide as she gulped down the bite of food she’d taken. “Okay… I… I just want to go home,” she finished softly, her eyes turning instantly shiny as tears gathered.

“We all do, lady,” Donovan Taylor grumbled.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” Robert said.

“What way? I just said what we’re all thinking. Jesus.”

Penny’s tears spilled over, and Christina wished like hell she’d kept her mouth shut.

“It’s okay, Robert,” Penny said, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m emotional and I know it.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Robert answered, his voice sounding a little choked up on her behalf.

Christina glanced at his wedding ring. Penny didn’t look like the sort of woman who’d be attracted to Robert, but money had a way of making a woman go blind when it came to sex appeal. Or a man, she supposed, considering what Ben’s orientation had been and how he’d hidden it for the sake of her money and whatever political cachet he’d decided she had.

“I think we’re all emotional,” Christina said firmly, meeting Donovan’s gaze and daring him to contradict her. He didn’t say a word. “Instead of dinner meetings in fine restaurants with expensive wine lists and crystal glasses, we’re running for our lives with a group of military commandos. And now we’re camping out in a”—she paused as she glanced around the dirt-filled room—“hovel, eating prepackaged food with plastic sporks. It’s a bit of a change in circumstances. We won’t even discuss the bomb earlier, or the many lives that were no doubt lost due to it.”

They went silent after that, eating their meals and avoiding eye contact with each other. Christina had no idea what would happen next, but she doubted it included a shower or a soft bed. She’d get around to asking someone, but right now every muscle in her body ached from the cramped ride in the van, and she didn’t feel like moving.

Eventually the floor started to rumble. It was soft at first, a mere vibration, but then it grew more noticeable and everyone stilled, sporks arrested in the act of shoveling food into mouths.

Penny made a sound that turned out to be a sob. Robert put an arm around her and pulled her close. Christina shifted to look at the SEALs. That’s when a chill slipped down her spine.

They were all on their feet, weapons held at the ready. She hadn’t heard them move. The other men had unholstered their sidearms. All of them looked at the front of the building, listening as the rumble grew louder and louder.

Nobody said anything. A series of head jerks and meaningful looks passed among the men. Several of them disappeared through the door. Remy was one of the ones who stayed behind this time, and Christina’s heart pounded. When he’d taken off after the bomb exploded, he’d scared the hell out of her. But he’d come back, and she’d been able to breathe again.

He met her gaze now. Then he quirked an eyebrow and gave her half a smile. Her heart wanted to melt. Might have melted if she weren’t sitting on a dirt floor in a Middle Eastern country and waiting for enemy fighters to come blasting through the door any minute.

Hard to melt when you were terrified.

The rumbling grew louder, the walls and floor vibrated—and then it stopped. Everything stopped. A few seconds later, there was a shout. It seemed as if everyone had stopped breathing, as if the air grew heavy with silence and anticipation.

But then there was a laugh from somewhere outside, and relief made Christina sag against the wall and let out a breath. If they were laughing, it couldn’t be bad.

Soon the flap to the door opened and the SEALs came inside. So did a group of other men. One stopped and surveyed them all sitting on the floor. He was tall and handsome in a way that drew the eye, with dark hair cropped close and several days’ worth of growth on his face. He was also clearly the man in charge of the men this house belonged to, because they all deferred to him.

He turned to the SEALs after he’d looked over the six civilians on the floor.

“Does Mendez know you’re here, kids?”

“He’s aware,” Viking said evenly.

The man raked a hand over his head. Then he laughed. “Goddamn, isn’t this a kick? HOT and Black’s Bandits together again. Let the good times roll, boys.”