Strong Silent SEAL (SEALs of Coronado Book 2) (3 page)

“Right there,” she said. “And I have to be there in five minutes.”

He studied the circled area on the map for a moment then gave her another intense look. “You sure you want to go there?”

The spot on the map probably had some significance to him, but to her, it was simply the place Buzz Cut told to be—in five minutes.

“Yes.”

As Dunn turned down a side road and picked up speed, Felicia held out hope this might work. She wasn’t naive. She knew the men holding Stef couldn’t be trusted. But she had to believe if she did as Buzz Cut told her, maybe everything would work out okay. It was the only thing she had to hang onto until something better came along.

“We didn’t have a chance for a proper introduction, but my name’s Logan,” he said. “What’s yours?”

Felicia ignored him, or tried to, anyway, but he kept talking in a frustratingly calm, casual voice.

“Maybe I can help you out of your situation,” he continued. “You don’t really seem to be the kind of person to do something like this.”

She wasn’t. But she was doing it now—for Stefanie.

“Keep driving,” she told him.

Felicia hadn’t realized they’d reached their destination until Logan pulled the SUV into a parking space and turned off the engine. Off to one side of the large official-looking building a sign read
Naval Special Warfare Command
.

She looked around, trying to remember exactly where Buzz Cut had told her to take the box.

“Where’s the south side of the building?” she asked.

Logan pointed to the right.

She pulled the box out of her purse then motioned at Logan with the weapon. “Get out and walk in front of me to the picnic table over there. The gun will be in my purse, but I’ll have my finger on the trigger the whole time, so don’t try anything.”

His gaze locked on the box in her hand. “What’s that?”

The dash clock read ten twenty-nine.

“I can’t tell you anything, so stop asking me questions and get out,” she snapped.

He regarded her silently for a moment then shut off the engine and got out of the SUV. She climbed over the console and followed him to the south side of the building.

The table stood right where Buzz Cut said it would be, under some palm trees. The moment she and Logan sat down, she put the box on the table and turned the lone switch on the top until she heard a clicking sound. She kept turning it until it stopped moving. Then she sat there staring at the box—and Logan.

He took of his sunglasses, revealing gorgeous blue eyes, then reached into his pocket for his cellphone.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously, fumbling for the gun in her purse and pointing it at him.

“Playing a game on my phone.” He shrugged. “I figure we’re going to be sitting here a while, aren’t we?”

She frowned. He clicked way too many keys for any game. Was he calling the cops? She didn’t want to have to shoot him, but he might not give her a choice.

But then he turned the phone around to show her what he’d typed.

I know you can’t talk, but I can help you if you’ll let me. Tell me what’s going on.

Felicia blinked. How had he figured out she couldn’t talk?

He nodded at her, then pointed at the words he’d written on his phone, specifically the part where he’d said he could help her.

A thousand thoughts raced through her head. Could she trust him? Could he really help her? She couldn’t imagine how he could, but she needed help from someone, and her instincts told her Dunn was that person.

Reaching down, she lifted the hem of her tank top, exposing her stomach and the wire taped there.

Logan leaned in close, followed the wire around to the little square thing taped to her lower back, and nodded. Sitting back, he typed something else into his phone, then held it up so she could see.

Do you have a cellphone?

Chapter Two

L
OGAN HAD ONLY gone into work beaucoup early on his day off because he had to finish up some paperwork from the mission in Syria. Next, his plan had been to veg out in front of the TV watching cheesy sci-fi movies and eating junk food for two whole days. But then a beautiful woman had stepped up behind him as he came out of the grocery store and shoved a gun in his back, and his weekend plans had changed.

He could tell right from the get-go she didn’t have a clue how to handle a gun. Not only was the safety on her Sig Sauer 9mm on, but she shook like a leaf the whole time she had it pointed at him. That alone told him neither he nor anyone else was in immediate danger. Why did she want to get on base so badly? From the way she’d looked at the clock every other minute, she had some kind of timetable.

When she pointed at the spot on the map, Logan realized the seriousness of the situation. She wanted to go to the headquarters building of the Navy Special Warfare Command from which the Navy ran its special operation missions—and where his bosses from SEAL Team 5 worked. If she wanted to go there, it was because there was something big happening.

If she hadn’t been wearing a snug-fitting tank top and yoga pants with those wide-leg bottoms, he would have thought her a suicide bomber. Hell, with her long, dark hair up in a ponytail and a hint of makeup, she looked like the girl next door. But while she had plenty of curves under her outfit, none of them were explosive—at least not in the literal sense. And he was pretty sure the black box wasn’t a bomb either.

He could have disarmed her a dozen times over already, but instead he went with his gut and took her where she wanted to go. His instincts had gotten him out of one bad situation after another over the years, and right now, his gut told him she was in serious trouble.

He couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what the hell was going on though. Something about the way she refused to answer his questions made him think there she couldn’t talk. So he’d pulled out his cellphone. The relief on her face when she thought he truly might be able to help her made his heart squeeze. When she’d lifted the hem of her tank top and shown him the quality surveillance gear taped to her sexy belly, he knew his gut had been right. She was in trouble and she needed his help.

Hands shaking, she took her phone out of her purse and handed it to him. He took it and put his name and number in her contacts, then turned off the ringer and gave it back to her.

Setting his own phone to silence, he texted his first question.
What’s your name?

She pushed up her sunglasses to see the screen better, then texted him back.
Felicia.

Nice name. Okay, now for the serious question.
Is someone close to you in danger?

She read the message on her phone then started typing furiously.

Five men with heavy accents grabbed my sister and me this morning. They gave me the box and told me to come to this building and turn it on then stay here for 30 minutes or they’d kill my sister.

Were they armed?
he texted back.

She nodded and went back to typing. Damn, she had fast fingers.

Four of them carrying pistols. I assume the fifth one—their leader—has one, too, but I never saw it. They gave me the pistol in my purse in case things went wrong, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.

He smiled. He couldn’t imagine someone like Felicia ever wanting to hurt anyone. But she’d done what was necessary to try and help her sister. He could respect that.

Do you know what this box is?

She stared at the thing on the table for a moment before answering.
The leader—a really big guy with a military style haircut—said it’s a listening device. He had a sailor to do the job, but he tried to back out so they killed him. They want me to bring the box back to them after I’m done here.

The fact one person was already dead wasn’t good, but everything else she’d said pretty much lined up with what Logan had thought earlier. This box was somehow recording the meeting going on in the NSWC building, even though it should have been frigging impossible with all the security precautions put into place by Navy security. You couldn’t walk into any secured building on this base—or any other—with a cellphone, iPad, e-reader, Apple Watch, thumb drive, or even a Fitbit. Nothing electronic went into a facility where they were discussing classified information, like the Special Warfare headquarters.

He had no doubt someone had gotten a microphone of some type in there. This black box sure as hell wasn’t picking up conversations all the way out here. He didn’t care what kind of technology it used.

On the upside, at least the thing wasn’t a repeater box—something that picked up the signal from inside the building and transferred it off the base wirelessly. The fact the men wanted Felicia to bring it back to them suggested it was nothing more than a recorder. He hoped to hell he was right or these assholes would get away with a buttload of classified information.

Logan was tempted to reach over and turn off the listening device, but he resisted. He had no way of knowing if they had something in the box that might signal them if it he did. Better to leave it on and make sure the people holding Felicia’s sister hostage never got their hands on it.

Do you know the address of the place they want you to bring the box?

Felicia gave him a vague answer. The warehouse was off Trentham Way in Poway, but she didn’t know a specific address.

That was okay. She got him close with a description. That was good enough. But when he started typing into his phone again, Felicia reached out a hand to stop him. Then she frantically typed into her phone. A moment later, he got a text written in all caps.

YOU CAN’T CALL THE COPS! THEY’LL GET STEFANIE KILLED!

Logan understood Felicia’s concern. She was probably right. The cops would surround the place per standard operating procedure and Felicia’s sister would likely end up dead. But calling the cops had never been his intent.

I’m not texting the cops. I’m texting a few friends of mine. They’ll help me get your sister out of there. I swear it.

She studied him for a moment, and he could see the fear and hope warring with each other in her beautiful brown eyes.

You can get my sister out safely?

Logan reached out and grabbed her hand, then looking her deep in the eyes, he nodded before texting her back.

Saving people in danger is what I’ve spend most of my adult live either training for, or doing. If you trust me, we can get your sister out.

Felicia hesitated, but then she finally nodded.
Okay.

Logan knew Felicia trusted him with the most important thing in the world to her. He wouldn’t let her down.

He fired off a text to a couple of guys on the Team, telling them he needed help and giving them the basics of the situation. He focused on the tactical details as he knew them. A warehouse in the Poway industrial area, five bad guys, one hostage, handguns for weapons, and a willingness to kill when necessary. Lastly he told them what his basic plan would be. If they didn’t make it there in time, he’d be going in anyway.

I’ll be there,
was the unanimous answer.

Logan spent the next few minutes asking Felicia for as much detail of the warehouse’s layout as she could remember. Locations of doors and windows, the room Stefanie was in, if the men were right-handed or left-handed—anything and everything Felicia could think of. In between texting, he kept up a stream of meaningless verbal crap to make sure the people on the other end of Felicia’s wire knew they were still there and everything was going according to plan.

When the thirty minutes were up, Felicia turned off the box and told him to go back to the car, reminding him to not do anything stupid or she’d shoot him. When they got in his SUV, she handed the gun to him. He dropped the clip and checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. It was. The bad guys must have believed she’d do anything necessary to save her sister. It’d be nice shoving this same gun up their asses.

They’d left base and were crossing back over the bridge into San Diego when Felicia’s phone rang. She took a deep breath and then answered it.

“Yes, I have the box with me,” she told the person on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Is my sister okay?”

Whatever the guy on the phone said, it mustn’t have satisfied Felicia because he saw her mouth tighten.

“I want to talk to her,” she demanded.

Logan expected the other person to argue, but instead, Felicia sagged with relief.

“Are you okay, Stef? Have they hurt you?”

The bad guys didn’t give her sister very long to talk because a moment later, Felicia stiffened.

“Yes,” she said. “I know what I have to do.”

She hung up and typed something into her phone when they got the next red light, then showed it to him.

He wants me to take your cellphone then get rid of you.

Logan nodded and texted back.
Tell me to stop once we get off I-15 at Scripps Parkway.

Fifteen minutes later, Felicia ordered him to stop the SUV and get out. He made a pretense of resisting, just as she made a pretense of saying she’d shoot him. While he got out to slip into the back so he could lie down on the floorboard, Felicia climbed over the console to take the wheel. A minute later, they headed east on the Scripps-Poway Parkway toward the warehouse.

He thumbed out a quick text then held his phone up so she could see it.
When you’re about a block or two away, slow down so I can hop out.

Felicia threw him a look over her shoulder but then nodded.

He was checking on the status of his SEAL Teammates when Felicia coughed softly and slowed down. Logan shoved his phone in his pocket then opened the door and rolled out. He landed in the grass along the side of the road, bouncing a couple of times before coming to a stop in the ditch. All in all, not a bad landing. He’d hit harder coming in on a parachute with a heavy combat load.