SEALs of Honor: Markus (2 page)

“Yep.”

Well, that was an improvement. He considered his options. Instinct said this wasn’t part of the training exercise and that they’d moved a mile to the left of where he’d been. The ground had smoothed out as they backed away from the marshy land, giving way to less rock and more grass. They were also heading into skinny growth forest. He glanced around, but there was still nothing to indicate this man had a home here. If he did and it was somehow inside the training area then his actions might be understandable, but that didn’t mean taking another person hostage at gunpoint was acceptable at any time.

Inside he was laughing in disbelief. This was not the way he’d planned on spending his day. And the fallout for the rest of his team – huge. What the hell? The last thing he wanted to do was let them down. He could have taken this guy out, ripped the rifle away from him…for him that was easy enough. So why hadn’t he?

Because he’d have likely hurt this man in the process, and over what? What did he want? Markus never hurt a civilian. Never hurt anyone who didn’t have it coming.

Hell, no one knew who he was or what he did most of the time anyway. That was the way his group liked it. Secrecy was paramount given the kind of work they did. There was always someone looking for payback.

So, was it surprise? Curiosity? Confusion? All of the above? He straightened. Besides they’d been walking in the direction he’d planned to go anyway…

“Turn here.” And the rifle prodded him on the shoulder to go deeper into the trees – and
not
the direction he wanted to go. Okay, enough of this shit.

His muscles tensed as he searched for the right moment…

“Now be quiet,” the man snapped, his voice harsh, deep. “I don’t want them knowing we’re here.”

Them? Markus froze and narrowed his gaze while he tried to adjust his vision. They’d gone into a deep pocket of trees, dark enough he had trouble seeing for a few moments.

“Who is them?” he asked, but his gut said the news wasn’t going to be good. There was something about his tone. Senses on alert, Markus lightened his steps. Who the hell was here? And if there was someone – why were they here?

“Doesn’t matter.” They slipped to the back of the dense treed area. Given the wilderness up here in Alaska, he couldn’t imagine that anyone lived like this permanently, but he knew hundreds did. He could see the appeal of homesteading for a short time period, understand the thrill and the sheer joy in living so close to the land, but it wouldn’t be his choice long-term. But here he hadn’t seen anything that resembled a house in any way. So where were these people?

Intrigued, he had to reconsider the options. Was this man in trouble? Did he need help? Not likely if there was a rifle at his back.

“What–”

And the gun prodded him again.

“Shh.”

Frowning, Markus continued to move forward, wondering what the hell he’d stumbled into. Had the training mission gone south? Or was his team going to jump out and laugh at his fool ass? He’d almost prefer it. Still, if this was a training mission, it was a hell of a side shoot. And had nothing to do with taking down snipers. He reached up and tapped his earpiece again…then caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

He spun and dropped as the butt came down hard – and missed him.

He rolled and lashed out, dropped the man to his knees. Grinning fiercely, he bounced to his feet and quickly overpowered the older man. With him pinned in a headlock, Markus said in low tones, “Now you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“It’s my daughter,” the old man said, wheezing. Now that Markus could see him clearer, he could tell he had to be in his seventies.

“They’ve got my daughter.”

Markus froze. “Who has your daughter?”

The old man waved a hand at the heavily wooded area in front of them. “Over there.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask for my help?”

“Didn’t know if you were one of them.”

“Why the hell would I be part of the group holding your daughter?” Markus asked.

“You’re dressed like them.”

Shit.

T
wo weeks.

Bree had been at the job two weeks.

What the hell had this world come to that she’d been bussing tables early Monday morning, running around filling coffee cups and slamming down plates full of eggs and bacon, to this? Now she was locked up in a cabin with two other female captives, and she was baking for the kidnappers.

One of the other women had taken a hit across the cheek for arguing, but no one called Bree stupid. A fool? Yes. She’d only gotten off the damn bus two weeks and two days ago. Alaska was as far away as her meager pennies could take her. It was also one of the few places she’d hoped to visit in her lifetime. Now that her lifetime had been extended – hopefully – she’d been successfully working her way around the country for six months. Until this.

She hadn’t planned on overhearing a conversation at the diner where she worked. Who did? But these men had stacked up a serious amount of firepower and were making plans. Betsy had overheard part of the conversation first and raced to the back to talk to Boomer, the cook and owner. Mary had rushed over to hear what was going on. At the same time Bree had been placing fully ladened plates on the table and had been required to wait while they removed all their papers so she had space. She’d caught a glimpse of blueprints and some names and with her photographic memory, she’d tucked the information away like she did so much other information she saw on a daily basis.

Two men had left and soon after the three remaining men realized what Bree had seen and heard too, and things had gotten ugly.

All three of the men had gotten up and walked to the back. Poor Boomer, he’d taken an uppercut to the jaw and had hit the floor out cold. Then the men had grabbed the three waitresses, and thrown them into a truck and brought them here.

It was just too stupid a scenario. There were outdoorsman all over, but places like Alaska bred them that way. Although she wasn’t sure how or why, she’d gotten the impression they weren’t locals. The other two women had been here all their lives. They’d know if the men were, but Bree hadn’t had a chance to talk to them yet. And not all the men she’d seen at the diner were here. But that didn’t mean they weren’t on the way.

Hardened, capable, and way too bullheaded to talk to. She had three older brothers. She knew the kind. She also knew the easiest way to get on their good side. Food.

So she’d immediately set about searching the kitchen for contents and made up an apple cobbler with some wrinkled apples she’d found in the back of the cooler. The other two women had hissed at her and told her to stop.

Like hell. She at least now knew where the butcher knives were and what kind of men they were. You could learn a lot from a kitchen. The fridge was clean, not full of molding foods. The cupboards were crammed full of canned goods and dried foods. They could hole up here for a long time.

When she realized that they had generators and a well, she knew there was damn little anyone was going to do to get the women out of here without a fight if the men didn’t want to hand them over willingly.

She understood sheer knock headed stubbornness. All her brothers and her father were the same. If she was going to be honest then she’d admit to having her fair share of that trait as well.

When she was done, she popped the treat into the oven and set about washing dishes. Behind her the men were into a heavy discussion but kept their voices so low, she couldn’t hear the details.

Fine. She’d act like an honored guest in the meantime. Fake it until you make it, right? She stared out the window trying to catalogue where the hell they were. It was a good half hour’s drive from Boomer’s Diner, but she had no clue in what direction, and in this country a half hour straight out could be anywhere.

“Hey, that smells good. What did you put in the oven, Greg?” asked a newcomer entering from the back door. She sent him a sidelong glance and kept her mouth shut. He was younger than the three she’d seen so far. That meant he was in his forties not fifties or sixties. He hadn’t been one of the other two men she’d seen at the diner. So how many were involved in this mess?

“Wow, where’d the women come from?” he asked, his shock rippling around the room. “And why?”

She stiffened slightly but kept her head down and washed the forks in her hand. So the kidnapping hadn’t been part of their original plans? So what had been the original plan? She’d asked them to clear spots for the coffee when she’d brought them, and the men had hurriedly rolled up large sheets of blueprints. But she had no idea what for. That was a problem with her memory. Information overload, so she dumped ninety-nine percent of it as soon as her mind registered the information.

Silence.

“We had no choice,” one of the men who’d grabbed them said in a rough voice. “They heard us talking.”

“About how much of it?” The first guy didn’t sound happy and as the men shrugged in lieu of answering, he asked, “You kidnapped these women, Greg?”

More silence.

“Let’s just say they are staying with us for a while,” Greg answered in a low, hard tone.

“No, see, that’s not a good idea,” the younger man protested. “That’s going to bring the law down on our heads.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Greg snapped. “These women are here. They’ve heard too much and we can’t be letting them go, now can we?” He glared at the young man. “Deal with it, Barry.”

Ah hell. That was not what she wanted to hear. And nothing she said was going to convince them she wasn’t going to tell someone the minute she could. Besides, she’d never been good at lying. So stupid. Of course she was going to tattle. She didn’t want to be here, and the longer she stayed the worse it was going to get. She finished cleaning the kitchen up, keeping an ear tuned to the muttered conversation going on around her.

Barry walked over to Betsy and asked, “Don’t you work at Boomer’s Diner?”

“We all do,” Betsy said in a quavering voice. “They hit him really hard and grabbed all three of us.”

“What the hell?” Barry spun and snapped. “We weren’t going to hurt anyone.”

“We had a change of plans.”

“So what if they did hear? No one knows we are here. Hell, this cabin hasn’t been used in forever. No one remembers it’s here, and even if they did, it doesn’t matter none as it’s impossible to find. Come on, we had to hike the last half mile in.”

“So I was just supposed to leave them there?” Greg snarled. “Like hell.” He half stood up. “I didn’t go through all this for someone to ruin our plans.”

“But the penalty for kidnapping…”

Bree shuddered. She wanted to go back to the other two women, but the men were standing in the way. They’d ignored her since they started arguing but they wouldn’t for long. She was the only one under fifty and the last thing she wanted to do was bring attention down on her shoulders. She glanced at her watch.

“Don’t bother checking the time, girlie, you aren’t going anywhere.” Greg turned his back on her and stormed back to the table where the other men sat.

“And what do you plan on doing with the women?” Barry snapped.

“Damned if I know, Barry. But I can’t find a negative in this. It’s a matter of timing. The cops will be here soon enough, you know that. If the cops come now, well then you’ll disappear and take care of things and our time frame gets moved up. In the meantime we’ve got a job to do.”

“And what about their families.”

“They don’t have any. They’re dried up old biddies.”

There was an awkward silence as the men turned to look at her. She stared back, her gaze flat. She was twenty-nine. About a hundred and ten pounds and could hardly be counted under either insult. The other two women wouldn’t appreciate the term either.

Still, the longer no one showed personal interest in her, the better. She turned to grab up a towel and started to dry the dishes she’d just washed, staring out the window, wondering what her options were. She was no outdoorsman. If she ran, would she be able to find safety or be lost forever out in the wilderness? Every year there were a number of deaths as idiots large on ego and small on skills got lost in the wilderness. She had neither.

But now they were back to that
don’t be stupid
comment. This was a simple case of being in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

So how to fix it. She turned on the water for a drink but it sputtered and spat with nothing coming out.

“Damn it, the water has gone out again. Greg, did you fix that line?” Barry asked.

“Hell no. I’m no plumber.”

Then looking at the other two men, Barry asked, “Harvey, Chad, did either of you do anything with the line?”

“Sorry, Barry. Didn’t get a chance.” They both shook their heads. Cussing and swearing, Barry spun on his heels and walked out.

Bree, still silent, watched as he strode over to the well. He leaned over the edge and fished up a bucket of water. Then he turned and walked to a small outbuilding. A pump house maybe. With the door open, she could see him working on machinery inside. She studied the distances from the house to the well to the pump house and realized she could probably get from one to the other but wasn’t at all sure where she’d go after that. There was a hell of a lot of wilderness out there. She wiggled her toes. She wore runners that had held her in good stead while working at the diner, but they sure weren’t up to miles of rough land out there. She thought she heard the sound of water running somewhere close, but she didn’t know if it would be the best thing to try for a stream. Although having fresh water around her sounded like a good thing.