Operation Summer Storm

Operation Summer Storm

By
Karlene Blakemore-Mowle

Eternal Press
A division of Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

www.eternalpress.biz

Operation Summer Storm
by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle

Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-586-1

Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-587-8

Cover art by: Dawné Dominique
Edited by: Kim Richards

Copyright 2012 Karlene Blakemore-Mowle

Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
1st North American, Australian and UK Print Rights

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To my wonderful family.

I’d be nothing without you all.

Thank you to the wonderful team at Eternal Press for making my dream a reality!

Chapter One

‘
No Bars Hold’ Bar

Kuta, Bali

The derelict bar was dark and gloomy, the music too loud. The heavy smell of cigarette smoke clung to the air in thick clouds. Trauma nurse Summer Sheldon wondered if by simply walking in she hadn’t just destroyed a healthy portion of her lungs. Thinking back, it should have become obvious what kind of place this was going to be when the taxi driver sent a dubious glance in the rearview mirror before double-checking she had the right place.

Her gaze fell on the bar across the room where a man sat watching her from behind a tall bottle of beer. Careful not to take too deep a breath, Summer made her way toward him. Dressed casually in cargo shorts and a button up shirt, his short hair was still wet as if from a recent shower and in his hand he loosely cradled the beer. He sat with one leg hitched casually on the bottom rail of the bar.

Swallowing nervously, she dragged her eyes back to a respectable level and cleared her throat. “Are you waiting to meet me?”

One dark eyebrow lifted slowly as a sarcastic smile spread across his mouth. “It sure beats ‘what’s a nice guy like you doin’ in a dive like this’,” he drawled.

Summer felt her face flame and took a step away. “I’m sorry; I was supposed to meet someone here and I just assumed…” Her voice petered out pitifully at the steady look he continued to pin her with.

“You know what they say about assume...”

Something in the steel beneath his tone caught her attention and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Eugene Wilson?”

“Depends.” He took a long draw from his beer and his chocolate-colored eyes bore into hers steadily.

“On what?” she asked.

“On why you want to find him.”

Summer bit the inside of her cheek. Something about this man gave her the impression he was alert and ready to spring into action if the situation called for it. He didn’t look like the tourist his casual clothing seemed to portray.

“A business transaction,” she finally said, deciding to brave climbing on to one of the high barstools next to him.

He eyed her with a glint of amusement before answering. “What kind of business?”

“The specialized kind.”

He considered her silently.

“So, what now? You refer me on to yet another associate and I go back to my cockroach-ridden room to swelter until I receive another phone call? Or can we finally do away with all this cloak and dagger stuff and just get down to business?”

“What makes you so sure I’m the guy you’re supposed to meet?” His tone sounded more curious than alarmed.

She was getting tired; it had been a long road to reach this point. She’d flown all the way to Bali to meet someone face-to-face, and ever since she’d arrived she’d been given the run around. If this man didn’t help her, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

“Because that guy over there—” she pointed to their left, “—can hardly lift his glass, let alone a rifle, and the guy back there—” she hitched her head in the direction of the door she’d just walked through “—is as likely to have ever served in any Special Forces unit as I have.”

“You’re observant,” he stated in a hard-nosed tone. “What I really want to know is how you got hold of our number?” All of a sudden, his tone turned dangerous, and Summer felt fear trace a path down her back.

“I was left this number to use in case of an emergency. This is an emergency.”

“Why should I risk my life—and the lives of my men—to rescue a group of hostages?” he continued, further proving that he knew of her request.

“Because I know you and your men are wanted for stealing missiles from a military munitions armory.” She saw him stiffen. “I also know,” she added smoothly, “that your real name is Tate Maddox.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who the hell sent you?”

Summer stifled the urge to run. She bit her lip to still the threat of frightened tears pricking behind her eyelids. “No one sent me. I tracked you down.”

His expression did not soften. If anything, it became even more menacing. “And just how do you know all this?”

“My brother in-law was investigative reporter, Michael Vosta. He was murdered on his way to a place named Los Cavernas to see you. Now my sister is missing.”

A moment of stunned silence followed her announcement.

“What does your sister going missing have to do with anything?”

“Nothing…and everything…depending how you want to look at it.” Summer realized she was about to unleash a whole lot of unpleasantness in the next few moments and had to take a breath to fortify herself.

“Willow was taken hostage in Cambodia almost a fortnight ago. I can’t get anyone to do anything because of all the red tape and a whole bunch of international pussy footing around.” She took a breath to keep her emotions in check. “I need someone with your experience to break her out.”

“It sounds like a job for the State Department.”

Summer swallowed back her disappointment. “The Government can’t even find them. They’re still waiting for confirmation and a ransom demand,” she bit out tightly.

“That’s pretty standard in a situation like this.”

“Maybe in a normal kidnapping,” she agreed quietly, “but I don’t think this kidnapping was random. I believe my sister was taken for a different reason.”

“Go on,” he said.

She saw a flicker of curiosity stir behind his hooded gaze.

“Michael’s murder had something to do with the story he was doing on Samuel Tréago.” She saw his jaw clench, at the mention of Tréago’s name, and could swear she heard something crack. “I think my sister was taken because Tréago knew Michael had files in his possession…files which can prove that Tréago was behind the missile heist—the same one he left you, and those other men, to take the fall for.”

His face lost its color, and he went unnaturally still. “I need to know everything…right now,” he commanded, leaning closer, and invading her personal space, in a calculated move to intimidate.

It worked. Summer couldn’t lean back any further without falling from her perch.

“I want to see the file,” Tate growled.

“Once you get my sister back, then you get the file.”

“No deal. I want the file. Now.”

Summer held the flint-like gaze before her, her own fear pushed aside as months of frustration and disappointment bubbled inside her. “If you don’t help me, I’ll make sure no one gets the file and you’ll be back to square one. Tréago will be free, and you’ll still be on the run.”

“That could be taken as blackmail lady.”

“Take it anyway you want. The fact is we need each other. I have the key to your freedom and you have the training to get my sister back.”

“I don’t like being threatened.”

“If I believed for one second, you’d willingly help me, I wouldn’t have to threaten you.” She eased back as far as she dared, “But I’m desperate and you’re my last hope.”

A low hum came from his pocket. She saw his jaw clench and a harsh expletive whispered beneath his breath.

Without taking his eyes from her he reached into one of the leg pockets of his cargo’s, and withdrew a slim, silver, mobile phone, biting out a sharp, “What?” as a greeting.

Summer took the opportunity to slide from the barstool. Tate Maddox had unnerved her enough for one day and she needed some space to recover her bravado. Without waiting to see if he would try and stop her, she made a break for the door. Dodging a rowdy group of party-goers as they entered, she slipped outside and rushed towards the road to hail a taxi.

Fearing that any moment, a large hand would clasp on her shoulder and drag her back inside that horrible place, she practically yelled at the startled driver to “Go!” as she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her.

Maybe the taxi driver had always wanted to be in a movie-like escape, or maybe he’d simply been too scared to argue with her but he didn’t hesitate. He pulled away from the gutter with a squeal of tires and merged—with a dash of skill and a whole lot of luck—into the tangle of traffic. She wasn’t game to look out the back window. She knew without a doubt she’d be seeing Tate Maddox again. He hadn’t seemed like the take-no-for-an-answer, kinda guy.

Chapter Two

Tate Maddox swore long and hard as he watched the tantalizing view of Summer Sheldon’s shapely rear end disappear through the front door. She’d managed to slip away while his attention had been diverted. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it unless he wanted to draw attention to himself—which he didn’t. So he was forced to sit and fume while he plotted his next move.

The flash of her curvy figure as she’d made her way across the bar when she’d first walked in, had made him pause as he’d been about to taste the first beer he’d allowed himself in several months. His throat going dry, as his gaze followed her across the room. He’d briefly allowed his eyes to touch on the swell of her breast beneath the soft fabric of her T-shirt. They said anything more than a handful would be a waste. Well, Miss Sheldon had more than a handful beneath that shirt, and as far as he could see it was certainly not a waste. Her narrow waist flared out to wide hips and her thighs were smooth and shapely.

They’d done their best to throw her off the track, but in the end—either from sheer pig-headedness or just plain stupidity—Summer Sheldon could not be discouraged. She’d made initial contact via a number few people ever got and had set in motion a flurry of anxious and suspicious enquiries on their part. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally agreed to meet with her but what he sure as hell had not expected was for her to throw his real identity in his face.

The voice jabbering in his ear brought him back to earth in a mighty crash. First, he had to work out what this new twist in the plan could mean to the mission. Later he could think about Summer Sheldon and her mouth-watering curves.