Hunter's Heart (22 page)

“Are you hurt anyplace else?” He cracked the top on an eight-ounce bottle of water and handed it over. Smaller bottles were used to prevent thirsty hostages from gulping too much and getting sick. She drank some then put it aside.

“No.” She coughed again. “Stiff is all. They only tied me up at night.” She wiggled her fingers as she swung her feet to the floor. “My hands aren’t too bad.” She made circles with her feet. “Feet aren’t—”

A dog sounded off with a who-the-fuck-are-you bark. Another joined in.

“Movement on the stairs,” Bambi’s voice said in his earpiece. “We need to do what the lady says, make like a tree and get the fuck outta here.”

AK bursts and PK machine gun fire, ripped the quiet night. Floodlights turned the night into day and it was on. LT calmly asked for reports. Perales insisted she was good to walk, and while Bambi reported, he helped her put on shoes.

Phaspt. Phaspt. Phaspt
. Bambi’s suppressed M4 joined in the weapons’ conversation.

“Yeaph. Time to get the hell outta here,” Hunter said. He took a good single handgrip on his M4 then wrapped his left arm around her waist and helped her stand. She limped but was able to walk better than he expected. Outside AKs cracked. M4s replied. Sporadic gunfire and yelling came from a three-sixty.

Bambi gave Peralas a good look over.

“I’m good,” she snapped. “If I have a problem, I’ll let you know. I want out of here as much as you do.”

“Let me help her,” Bambi said. “I’m left handed. I can hold her on my right against the wall for more protection.”

They made the change and Hunter took the lead.

“Incoming RPG,” Andy’s voice said over the comms. The blast was close and propelled them to move faster.

“RPG shooter down.”

“Team one, where the fuck are you?” LT, asked in a monotone voice.

“On our way with a slightly damaged package. The courtyard we crossed is fucking lit up enough to be seen from space. Take the fucking lights out.”

“Took out what we could. Negative on the rest.”

“Roger.”

“Can you take secondary route?”

“Negative. Undergrowth could damage the package. Courtyard is the best option. We need suppressing fire.”

“Our right is NG,” Bambi said.

“Ditto on your left,” LT said.

He looked at Peralas. “Fuck, guess it’s the middle. You make it? “

“Shortest distance between two points is a straight line,” she said. “Either I make it or I don’t. And stop calling me a package.”

He smiled at that. “LT, you in position to cover us?”

“Roger.”

“If your squid buddies can’t, we can,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Identify,” Hunter said.

“The hills are alive with awesome fire power.”

The fucking Marines.

“Hunter?” LT said after a long pause. “Your call.”

“Offer appreciated. If I holler send ’em in.”

“Roger that, squid. I hear screaming like my great aunt Tilly getting a Brazilian, we’ll send in rounds.”

Hunter smiled. “Roger that—
asshole
.”

A snicker was the only response. “LT. You have eyes on us?”

“Affirmative. We’re repositioning for cover.”

“We’ll head for that wall on three.” He turned to Bambi. “You run backwards better than I do. I’ve got the pack—Ms. Peralas. You’re behind.”

“I knew that talent would get me in trouble one day,” Bambi muttered.

Hunter held Peralas tight to his side. “Wrap your arm around me. We’re going to run.”

She nodded.

“LT on my one…. Three. Two. One.” They burst into the courtyard and made it ten yards before taking fire. Rounds splattered around them. Rock shards stung his legs through the thick material of his camo pants. Peralas’ bare legs had to be taking a beating. At least the bastards weren’t great shots. Behind him, Bambi fired short bursts. Bullets kept ripping past.

“Asshole on your right,” a voice said in his ear. He located the asshole but he was already crumpling to the ground.

“Gun. Ahead. Wall,” Peralas yelled. He whipped around to see a scrawny man, standing by the wall they headed for, fumbling with a PK. Hunter shoved Peralas behind him. Their feet tangled, she stumbled and went down as he fired a burst, dropping the man. Peralas crab crawled to the wall, drawing fire. He thought she was going for cover and ran behind using his body to shield her.

She wasn’t going for cover. She was going for the fallen man’s gun.

“Changing,” Bambi called out. Behind them, he’d been firing full out and was asking for cover while he changed mags.

Peralas grabbed the PK then went to her ass in the dust. He ran to her, intending to scoop her up and get her behind the damn wall.

“No.” She pointed behind him. “Your man. Go.” She began firing.

Bambi was down. Laying on his side in a fetal position. M4 resting on his thigh and firing full out. The bad guys were zeroed in on his range. Shells blasted the ground around him, raising clouds of dust and gravel zinged off his gear. The team laid down everything they had as he ducked and dodged to get to his brother. He grabbed the strap on Bambi’s body armor, and back peddled dragging him as both of them fired.

“Get behind the wall.” Hunter yelled to Peralas. She did and he took a knee, firing, waiting for Bambi to join her. Then he was on his back, gasping for air, a pain in his gut. He looked down.

“Muther fucker.”
He’d taken a round. The mutilated shell was stuck in his body armor.

“Dude, not the time for a break,” Bambi yelled from behind the wall. “Get your ass back here.” He decided Bambi was right. He rolled over and crawled to safety.

“Holy crap,” Bambi said, going to his knees. “Did you see how many fuckers were shooting at us?”

“Tried not to look. You hit?” Hunter sat up. “Your face is bloody.”

Bambi scrubbed a hand over his face then examined the grit and blood he came away with. “Just the fucking gravel. I got peppered everyplace.” His deep baritone voice, definitely a few octaves higher.

“Geesus.” Hunter let out a long breath. “Your nuts okay?”

Bambi touched himself, blew out a breath and nodded. Then they both laughed.

“Yeah. There’s a box I can check.”

“Me too,” Hunter said, picking the mangled metal out of the armor.

“When you two stop your man crushing can we get the fuck out of here?” Peralas said.

“Ah man,” Bambi said, looking at Peralas’ gouged and bloody legs.

“Two packages on beach. We need the third.” The LT’s voice crackled in his ear. “And good to know Bambi has all his man parts.”

“On our way.” Hunter looked at the agent. “I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”

“I can make it,” she snapped.

He didn’t doubt it. He thought the lady was capable of doing anything.

“Ma’am, I’m sure you can. You’ve done enough.” Hunter lifted her. “It’s a privilege. Call it thanks for that much-appreciated backup.” On the way to the beach, he thought about the other extraordinary women he’d helped bring home from difficult situations. Commander Carver, Admiral Hendrickson, and Major Thornton who, like Peralas, put their lives on the line for their country.

“Thanks to the few good men in the hills for our backup,” LT said, receiving two mic clicks in response. The Marines were already quietly slipping through the jungle, back to their original op.

The remainder of the evac went well. Their SWCC buddies picked them up and doctors were treating the packages, shipboard, in ninety minutes. They were beat up, but sustained no life-threatening injuries. The team spent three days in Panama, writing after-action reports, waiting for follow-up orders and talking to the head shed. The CO reported the RECON marines made it back to their operation without incident and requested the status of the
fourth package.
They let Bambi explain that one.

Their last night was sent partying with the Panamanian unit left in town. Hunter’s heart wasn’t in it. Now the job was done, his mind was on Celia.

Chapter 15

I’m a Navy SEAL. A UDT diver.

There were no texts or messages from Celia waiting when his boots hit the ground in Virginia. Nothing. Nada. He texted he wanted to talk and made it clear he’d been out of town working. Nothing. He called and left voice mails several times. A whole lot of nada.
What the fuck?

Even if she was away she’d be getting messages. She could respond. He flopped on the sofa and stared at the only picture she’d allowed him to take. A selfie taken the afternoon at Aunt Nellie’s. He couldn’t look at it without smiling. She was so flipping happy. In a week they’d gone from that to…
gone
.
Finished
.

The damn phone buzzed in his hand. “Fuck.”

It was Bug.

“Yeah.”

“From the tone of your voice, don’t need to ask if she’s called.”

He said nothing.

“What the fuck are you doing acting like a sick water buffalo? You’re a mother fucking Navy SEAL. A UDT frogman diver. Quit feeling sorry for yourself or I’ll come over there and kick your ass. Find her, beg forgiveness and tell her you love her.” Bug hung up.

Bug was right.

A SEAL was never out of the fight.
He could do this. After all, he’d survived fire-fights, helicopter crashes, almost freezing his balls off on a mountain peak in the Hindu Kush and a whole shitload of other things. His divers watch said zero six forty-eight. He could be at Celia’s in forty minutes. He
was
going to do whatever it took to make this right. She
was
going to talk to him. They
were
going to work this out.
He would not fail
. He snatched his keys on the way to the door and stopped. Fuck, he should put on more than briefs and flip flops.

On the drive, he rehearsed what he would say. He’d tell her he’d do whatever it took to get her back. Work things out. For the first time in days, he felt optimistic.

The blinds of her townhouse were still closed and before knocking he listened for any sound inside. Nothing. She wasn’t up yet. He pounded the door with the side of his fist and kept pushing the doorbell button. She’d be up now. The chimes sounded different. He cocked his head and pushed it again, his scalp prickling. It made an odd hollow sound. Another knock and still no sound of movement. He used his key and slipped inside.

“Son of a bitch.” In a single second, his optimism was replaced with a feeling like he’d entered a hot zone. The place was empty. Totally empty. No furniture. No pictures. There was nothing. The rugs had been shampooed. The walls painted. The alarm panel gone.
Fuck.
Scenarios flashed through his brain at warp speed and settled on one.

Her bastard father had come back and taken her.

He took the stairs two at a time. Her office was clean. The work safe gone. He opened her closet and a pain like that round slamming his chest hit him. She hadn’t been taken. On the floor, neatly folded, was his gray Navy T-shirt. The one she liked to bop around in. Resting on top was his folded white handkerchief and her key to his house.

She’d left
.

He searched every cabinet, every closet, every inch of the space for a clue. Even the garage had been scrubbed. He sat on the stairs and looked at the empty space.
It was clean, sterile, like—alarms went off in his brain—an agency clean…up…crew had come through. Holy hell.

He locked up then beat feet it to the complex’s management office where he paced, waiting while the man talked to a prospective renter. Maybe for Celia’s place. When the woman finally left, he rushed the manager’s desk.

The man stood. “What can I do for ya?” He offered his hand. “If you’re looking for a place, I’ve got a couple.”

“1620 Green Lawn open?” Hunter blurted.

The man’s face puckered. “Nope. If I remember correctly that unit has five more months.”

“You mind checking. I really like the location.”

He settled back onto his chair then hit a few keys on his laptop. The screen spewed info and he shook his head. “No sir. I was right. Year’s rent paid in advance. Five months left. But I have another corner place,” he said to Hunter’s back. “Hey,” he yelled, “it’s a good price.”

Celia paid her rent a year in advance. That had to set her back close to twenty-five grand. If not more. She’d left without telling the manager. And s
he
was pissed because
he
hadn’t been open with her? Who the hell is she? In ten days she’d managed all this. This had to have been planned well in advance.

He headed for base, forcing himself to drive under the limit. The reality of what happened crushed him like a bolder. Celia wasn’t who she said she was. She’d played him and when she realized he was getting serious, she ran. No. More like opened the escape hatch and bailed. Went back to her real life. Whatever that was. That fucking story about her father. Christ. What a sucker he’d been believing that.

He wasn’t going to let her walk away like this. He needed to find her. To do that he was going to need help.

Hunter rapped on the frame of Senior’s office door. “Talk?”