Navy SEAL Captive (14 page)

Jenna's heart skipped several beats and raced on to catch up. Having known Sawyer for so short a time, she couldn't believe herself to be in love with the man. But lust and desire had been off the charts and incredible.

For a woman who had thought no man other than Tyler would capture her attention and maybe even her heart, Jenna had been so very wrong. Sawyer was more man than Tyler had ever dreamed of being. Jenna felt a little sorry for her former maid of honor being stuck with the coward.

Nah. They deserved each other for the crappy way they'd treated her. Jenna gave their relationship three months before they split up.

Tyler might even try to come back to her.

Jenna snorted softly. Never in a million years would she take him back. Not after having Sawyer in her life and in her bed.

Too wound up to go back to sleep and frankly too scared to leave the lounge, Jenna curled up on one of the white leather sofas and waited. When they got closer, she might consider guarding the decks and searching the water for the small motorboat and the man she'd come to admire. A man she could easily fall in love with.

God, she was a fool! From a man who didn't love her to another man who refused to get that involved, she sure knew how to pick them and make her life miserable.

Chapter Fourteen

They'd come ashore unnoticed, sliding the small motorboat up onto the sand near a small outcropping of brush.

Fully equipped with observation equipment, guns and ammo, they could make this mission happen.

Sawyer lay in the brush, eyeing the compound fence through his night-vision goggles. So far he hadn't spotted any green heat signatures indicating warm bodies and guards.

“If we're going, we'd better do it now. There are only a couple more hours until morning. I don't want to be here when the sun comes up,” Duff said into his headset.

“Agreed,” Sawyer responded. “Let's do this.” He took off running.

Duff did, as well. When they reached the eight-foot wall, Duff cupped his hand. Sawyer stepped into it and launched himself over the top.

He landed in the soft, sandy soil on the other side and flattened himself to the earth, staring through his goggles, looking for any sign of movement or heat. So far nothing.

“Clear,” he whispered into his headset to the others.

A second later, Duff flew over the top of the wall and landed beside Sawyer.

Montana was next, but he stopped at the top of the wall and reached back to haul Quentin over. They landed on the ground making no sound at all.

The main building was fifty feet to the south. Nothing moved in the dead of the night except the guards standing watch at the entrance to the house and on the corners of the buildings.

The team split. Montana took the north corner while Quentin, Sawyer and Duff headed for the south corner and the rear entrance.

Sawyer sprinted ahead and caught the corner guard unaware, dispatching him with his knife. The man went down.

Duff and Quentin dragged him into the brush.

Sawyer found a back entrance locked, as he'd expected. He pulled his P226 handgun, fixed a silencer on it and blew a hole through the lock. The door swung open into a laundry room. None of the machines were running and the lights were out, but a light shone through from under the door leading into the house.

Sawyer shifted his night-vision goggles up on his helmet and eased the door open into a hallway with doors leading off each side.

Montana and Duff entered the laundry room behind him.

“Quent?” Sawyer whispered into his microphone.

“Checking all corners and setting charges.” The explosives would help create a diversion should they need it.

Sawyer moved down the hallway to a door half-open. The lingering scent of food drifted through. Easing the door fully open, he noted the kitchen with a single light burning over the sink. It was empty and shut down for the night.

Closing the door, Sawyer continued down the hallway and came into a large dining room with a long formal table and a dozen chairs situated around the solid wood surface. The dining room opened into a foyer with a sweeping staircase leading to the upper level of the mansion.

A guard leaned against the wall to the right of the front entrance, his chin touching his chest, his eyes closed.

Sawyer crept up to the man and took him out with a quick slash across his throat. Easing him to the floor, Sawyer nodded to Montana and Duff. They split up, ducking through every door on the lower level, checking for any other guards or people who might be around and cause them trouble. Sawyer started up the stairs, crouching low and hugging the railing. As he reached the top, he noted another guard sitting on the floor in front of a broad wooden doorway. His head was resting against the door frame and his weapon lay across his lap. The man was sound asleep.

As Sawyer neared him, he jerked in his sleep, his head banging against the wooden door. He blinked and stared up at Sawyer. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. Before he could shout, Sawyer dispatched him and dragged him away from the door. This had to be Devita's room.

Montana and Duff arrived on the landing as Sawyer turned the knob.

“Uh, we might have a problem here,” Quentin said into Sawyer's headset.

Sawyer paused before pushing the door in.

“Clarify,” Montana whispered, farther back from the door than Sawyer.

“I hear an engine overhead,” Quentin said. “I think it's a drone.”

Sawyer's pulse leaped. What the hell was a drone doing flying over Devita's place?

Sawyer eased the door open and rushed into the room.

A huge mahogany bed with a canopy along the top took up the majority of one wall. Sawyer had crossed the room before the man in the bed knew what was happening. He grabbed Devita and yanked him out of the bed, pressing a knife to his throat.

The woman who'd been asleep beside him squealed and gathered the sheet up over her naked body. She rattled off words in Spanish, sobbing at the same time.

“Tell me who you hired to kidnap or kill Senator Houston's son and I'll let you live.”

“No comprendo,”
he said, his head tipped back to avoid the blade.

“He does not speak
Inglés
,”
said the sobbing woman. She spoke to Devita in Spanish.

Devita gave a tight shake of his head and responded.

The woman said, “He does not know what you are talking about.”

“Then why did he have Ramirez deliver a case with weapons and instructions to the hotel if he wasn't the one who hired the assassin?”

Again, the woman translated what Sawyer said. When Devita spoke, he sneered.

The woman bit her lip and hesitated.

Devita barked an order at her and she jumped.

“He was paid a lot of American dollars to deliver the case unopened. Had he known a senator's son was in Cancún, he would have kidnapped him himself and demanded money for his release.”

Sawyer's gut knotted and anger ripped through him. This effort to discover his tormentor could not be a failure. “Who was supposed to get the case?”

Before Devita could respond, an explosion shook the mansion. Walls cracked and debris shook loose from the ceiling.

“Get out now!” Quentin shouted into the headset. “That drone I told you about just launched a rocket.”

Montana zip-tied Devita's wrists and ankles. “What about the woman?”

“Bind her. Make it quick.”

The woman struggled, but was no match for Montana. He had her zip-tied in seconds.

Sawyer jerked his head toward the door. “Go!”

Duff and Montana raced for the bedroom door. Sawyer brought up the rear. Weapons at the ready, the SEALs ran down the staircase and made it all the way through the dining room when the front door burst open and Devita's men crowded through, heading for the staircase.

Sawyer's team had rounded the corner and was headed down the long hallway when another explosion ripped through the center of the house. They were thrown to the floor, but the walls held. Sawyer scrambled to his feet, helped Montana and Duff up and hustled them out the back door, debris and a dust following them through.

They rounded the side of the mansion, headed for the point where they'd breached the wall. Quentin waited in the shadows with his hand cupped.

Montana went over the wall first, followed by Duff. Sawyer went next, stopping on top to grab Quentin's hand and haul him up.

Quentin dropped to the ground on the other side. As Sawyer started to slide off the top, something slammed into his shoulder.

He toppled to the ground, hitting hard.

Duff and Montana grabbed his arms and helped him to his feet.

“You're bleeding,” Duff said. He pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood.

“Flesh wound,” Sawyer said through gritted teeth. “Get out of here!”

As they ran for the beach where they'd left the small boat, Montana spoke into the two-way radio. “Took hits from a drone. Sawyer wounded. Getting out. Need backup.”

* * *

J
ENNA
HEARD
THE
crackle of the radio and ran across the lounge to Natalie, who held one of the other two-way radios.

“Roger,” Lance's disembodied voice responded from his position up top at the helm of the yacht. “Coming in to rendezvous. Got you on the tracker.”

Natalie shoved the two-way radio at Jenna. “Hold this. If the drone is targeting the guys, we need to be ready.”

She ran for the stairs to the deck below. In less than two minutes, she was back carrying a gun and a box of shells.

“Either of you ever fire a shotgun?” she asked.

Carly nodded. “I have on my uncle's farm.”

“It's been a long time, but I used to go duck hunting with my dad in the bayous of Mississippi,” Jenna said.

“You're hired. Load up and get out on deck.” Natalie handed the weapon and the box of ammunition to Jenna. She glanced at Carly. “Come with me.”

The two women ran down the stairs.

Jenna fumbled with the shotgun, trying to remember everything her father taught her about handling one. After several seconds studying the gun, she managed to load the shells. Then she ran out on deck.

“They're a half of a mile off the bow,” Lance called out from the helm. “Watch the sky for a drone, and for God's sake, don't shoot our guys.”

Her heart pounding, Jenna ran to the front of the yacht, the shotgun heavy in her hands. But, damn it, she'd do whatever it took to protect the men escaping Devita's island. She hooked the two-way radio to the waistband of her shorts and lifted the shotgun to her shoulder, like her father had taught her, settling it into the soft pocket of her shoulder.

A few minutes later, Carly and Natalie joined her, each carrying a weapon. Carly held another shotgun. Natalie carried a rifle with an infrared scope and a submachine gun.

The yacht powered through the water, racing to meet the men.

“We should see them in the next five minutes,” Lance called out. “Watch for them.”

The stars shone down on the water, the sun a couple of hours from rising. Jenna strained to see any movement on the water other than the gentle swells.

“There!” Lance shouted from above. “Eleven o'clock, two hundred yards. Closing fast.”

Jenna scanned the rippling waves. A boat appeared out of the darkness, speeding toward them. Her heart leaped for joy.

“Watch for the drone,” Natalie ordered.

Jenna shifted her focus to the sky over the boat carrying Sawyer and his teammates. She couldn't see anything flying over them.

“There's another boat coming in fast!” Lance yelled. “Be ready to provide cover.”

The boat carrying the SEALs was within a football field of the yacht when another boat came at them from the starboard side, nearly crashing into them. Shots were fired from the driver of the attacking boat.

Jenna aimed her shotgun at the attacking boat. It was still too far out for her to hit anything. She raised the gun, aimed at the attacker and fired.

At the same time, the attacking boat turned sharply. The hull of the boat rose out of the water and blocked the bullet. The driver swung around behind the SEALs' boat, taking fire from the SEALs but coming at them relentlessly. Gunning the throttle, the attacker raised the bow of the boat high, running fast at the SEAL team's boat, again the hull of the boat between the driver and the bullets being fired at him.

“Damn!” Lance called out. “There's another boat.”

Sawyer's boat turned sharply away from the yacht.

“What are they doing?” Jenna asked.

“Taking the firefight away from us,” Natalie said through tight lips.

“But we can help.” Jenna watched as the boat carrying Sawyer spun away and the men on board fired on the attacking boat.

“They don't see the other boat,” Carly said.

“What's he doing?” Jenna watched as the third boat, a long, sleek cigarette jet boat, raced for the attacking boat, throttle wide-open. The driver of the boat that had been attacking the SEALs apparently hadn't noticed the new boat headed straight for him until too late.

Jenna bit her lip and flinched as the cigarette boat crashed into the attacking boat. The two vessels exploded, sending a fireball of flame into the sky. “Oh, my God, the driver did that on purpose.”

The SEAL team circled back to the wreckage.

Lance slowed the yacht and edged toward them, finally bringing the bigger boat to a stop.

Jenna ran to the edge of the yacht and leaned over the side, staring down into the water. She counted the men in the SEALs' boat. Four. “Thank God,” she whispered.

“Help!” A shout rose up from the water near the wrecked speedboats.

Lance maneuvered the yacht around the smoldering wreck and stopped the vessel. A figure in a bulky life jacket raised a hand in the air. “Help!”

Jenna was surprised. The voice was feminine. She hurried to grab the life preserver and line and tossed it over the side to the woman below.

The woman swam toward the life preserver and hooked her arm through it.

Holding on to the line, Jenna walked to the back of the yacht, pulling the woman along the side. Carly helped haul her toward the ladder. Once she reached the ladder, the woman climbed aboard.

Jenna gasped. In the exterior deck lights, she recognized the woman. “Becca?”

“Hey, Jenna. Thanks for helping me out.” Becca unbuckled the life jacket and let it drop to the deck. A dark wetsuit encased her trim body, accentuating her curves. She pushed her hair out of her face and looked back at the water below. “Did you find the driver of the other boat?”

“There!” Lance pointed to a body floating among the splintered debris. He leaned from the door of the helm enclosure and shouted down to the SEALs. “Can you get to him?”

“We'll do what we can. We're taking on water pretty fast, and Sawyer's leaking blood like a sieve,” Quentin called out.

Jenna's breath caught and she leaned over the side of the rail, trying to see for herself. Carly rushed up beside her and shone a flashlight down on the boat below.

“I'm fine,” Sawyer said. “Just a flesh wound.”