SEAL Of My Heart (29 page)

Her stomach was fluttering. She felt herself getting sick, chilled by the horrible, sinking feeling her whole world was gone and her happy cocoon had suddenly evaporated. Her body wobbled from side to side.

Randy stood, throwing out his arms to steady her.

Kate stepped back and scowled. “Don’t touch me. Haven’t you done enough already?”

“But Kate—”

“Shut up. Shut up. Just fuckin’ shut up.”

Was the man she’d fallen in love with so hard and so fast a man she now could no longer trust? Did he do to her what Randy had never done—take her heart and shred it? She shook her head. No. It was. Not. Possible.

“Okay, I get where you’re coming from. I’d be pissed too—” Randy started.

“Pissed? You think I’m pissed? I wish I’d never met any of you.
Any
of you. He might be a bastard, but at least Tyler was right about one thing, I can’t trust any of you. This is a hell on earth, being here with you people.”

Randy was still standing, but stronger. “It’s about to get worse, Kate.”

“Really?” Rage was boiling in her veins.

“She’s nearly bankrupted us. She’s taken our money. I think my family’s winery is about to go under unless we can get the money back quickly.”

Kate wasn’t tracking properly. What was this about money? She was still focusing on the sex. Who said anything about money?

Randy held up the black checkbook with the gold H crest on the cover. “From the looks of it, I’d say she’s taken nearly one hundred thousand dollars this week alone. I’m seeing other things that don’t make sense. Advances to an RPG Media Services? Crestman Catering? Any of these companies sound familiar to you?”

“No.”

“When Dad came to me last night and asked, I couldn’t believe it. I told him I was sure you didn’t have anything to do with them, and you handled all the catering here. He said he’d already talked to you. That only leaves one other person.”

“Sheila,” Kate murmured. Could Tyler somehow be involved?

She glanced at her phone. She wanted to fire off a message, but realized she’d been waiting for a text that was never going to come. Was he even overseas?

“You’ve got to call the police, Randy. You’ve got to get on top of this right away. Sheila was here this morning, working in the office.” She pointed to his checkbook. “She might have done something else this morning.”

“Already checked. Already called the bank. I doubt we’ll see her again. She wrote another check this morning and cashed it at the bank in person. Our last thirty thousand dollars. Your paycheck and that of everyone here at the winery is going to bounce sky high.”

Kate dropped into the chair behind her.

Randy leaned over, putting his hands on the armrests. “You have to face the fact that perhaps Tyler is waiting for her now.”

“No. I don’t believe that.”

“Did you think she was capable of this? And how do you explain her knowing where his body ink is located? I take it that information is accurate?”

“Yes, but—”

“There is only one explanation. He’s in on it.”

“No he’s not. He can’t be.”

“Well, then, look
at this.” He held up the checkbook. Yesterday there had been a check written to Tyler Gray in the amount of ten thousand dollars. “It was deposited to a joint account, a new one. And Sheila’s name is on it as well.”

‡

L
ights from the
approaching bus mingled with the rosy glow of a new day, except for Tyler it felt like the same fucking nightmare of a day he’d been having the last twenty-four hours.

They herded the women back to the compound and inside the house, where they closed the door but didn’t barricade it so it would be easy to break in, as if only a house full of women and children lived here. They wanted the surprise to be on their side, and if they were lucky the soldiers wouldn’t suspect any male defenders to be present.

He sent everyone upstairs for safety, away from any possible firefight below. He knew if the intruders didn’t get in the front door, they’d for sure set fire to the place and pick them off the roof like birds on a telephone wire. They had a better shot at getting at least a couple of them who might not expect the women to be armed.

If they were lucky, they wouldn’t be spotted as American Special Forces since there would be a long, painful death or incarceration in their futures if that were the case.

And their current plan might also give the rescue forces time to put together a plan to come extract them—if he could send a message with Malalia’s iPad. Without the drone’s Wi-Fi, they’d have to get somewhere that had it. With the firestorm heading for them, it might not be a bad idea if they could survive the next few minutes.

Jackie took the women to the bedroom and told them to stay down while Tyler and T.J. checked what they had between them in terms of firepower. T.J. had thrown his bag to the ground when he got off the chopper, so both of them had enough clips and extra surprises to make a fun morning out of it. Beyond that, it was going to be a real crapshoot. The walls of the house were thick, but depending on the caliber of the weaponry they might still penetrate the stone and plaster mud hovel.

Lady Luck was smiling on them. The bus’s brakes squealed loudly, and from the shadows of the upper story T.J. and Tyler saw there were only four local militia types.

“You suppose the leader had a pistol?” T.J. said.

“He did, and I have it,” Jackie held up a Browning Hi-Power and two clips. “Under his pillow.” Jackie also held up a laptop. “I think your American forces will like having the information in this laptop he left behind.”

“We gotta fuckin’ get outta here first. But, hell, yes. Good job, Jackie,” Tyler whispered. They readied themselves.

The door downstairs was kicked open easily, giving the false clue they’d hoped for. The men shouted as if expecting to be obeyed. Jackie crouched outside the closed door of the women’s bedroom while Tyler took point and T.J. backed him up. The windows were wide open on the front, but the sides were shuttered. They were careful to count all four voices coming from downstairs so they didn’t have to plan a two-pronged defense.

The SEALs hid until they heard heavy footsteps on the lower landing. The language of the militiamen got louder and more demanding. Counting to three, T.J. and Tyler nodded to each other and burst from their cover, catching the men off guard, pummeling them with rounds, felling them before they could get a shot off.

Tyler and T.J. sat back against the wall and breathed easier. They could hear the women sniffling, which got louder when Jackie opened the door and reassured them all would be well.

“So far so good. Now what the hell do we do?” T.J. barked.

“Pray.” Tyler meant it, but T.J. swore. “I’m going to go check the leader’s room for anything else we can use. Lot of those guys are plenty handy with knives and swords. Anything that’s quiet might be useful. Intel as well.”

“Should take a DNA sample,” Tyler said.

T.J. shook his head. “Cell phone picture and an ear or a finger. You choose. But you’re carrying it.”

Tyler grinned back at him. “God I love my job.”

“Gotta be fuckin’ nutz,” T.J. was saying as he climbed the third story.

Tyler kept his H&K close while he took the few steps to the first landing where the men lay in a bloody pile. They had knives, some papers he’d ask Jackie about, and a couple of them had an odd assortment of Russian-made pistols he’d never seen before. No one wore armor, so they never had a chance.

He was crouched over the third combatant when he heard the repeat of a round and then felt the sting in his upper thigh which sent him sprawling on his back, his weapon clattering down the stairs. Right away he felt his warm life’s blood ooze down his pants leg and out through the seams, over his shoes and socks, and he allowed himself to register that it was a pleasant feeling of warmth, like home, like something he missed.

Jackie returned fire, killing the other combatant.

“Tyler, you okay?” Jackie said as he knelt at his side.

“No, fuckin’ Jackie, I’m not fuckin’ okay,” Tyler returned harshly, more to let them know he was still tough and still expected to make it out alive.

T.J. had been up on the roof and reached Tyler’s side in a rush. “Fuck me, Tyler. You’re not going to be able to walk on this leg.” He removed a braided strap from his pack and tied a tourniquet around Tyler’s upper thigh, as high as he could without taking his manhood with it. He cinched it as hard as he could, hard enough that Tyler groaned.

“You fuckin’ pussy. You die on me and I’ll shoot you full of rounds myself,” T.J. spat.

“Who said anything about dying? How about walking? Or am I gonna trace like my sister’s vampire heroes?” Tyler joked. It made him feel better, being lighthearted about something he had no control over. There were only two possible outcomes. They lived or they died. And probably together.

“Don’t fuckin’ mess with me, Ty. There’s a dust cloud on the horizon, and unless you called Welcome Wagon, we’re about to be given the
We Fucking Hate Americans
treatment and a basket full of bullets.”

“Where the fuck did this guy come from?” Tyler asked.

Jackie pointed at the dead Afghani’s jacket. “Municipal. He’s a municipal bus driver.”

“Jackie, you know how to drive a fuckin’ bus?” Tyler asked.

“Sure.”

“Really?” T.J. asked.

“No.”

“Then I drive,” T.J. said. “Give me something to cover up and I’ll be the bus driver. We gotta get out of here in, like, a minute or we won’t live to tell the tale.”

They loaded the women first, and then T.J. and Jackie carried Tyler into the bus, placing him in the back where he could fire from the rear window as well as the sides. He couldn’t walk, but he could defend those who could. And then the rest of it would just have to happen the way it happened. He tried not to think about it. But he was feeling weaker by the moment. The tourniquet was only going to keep him alive for a few minutes…maybe an hour if they were lucky…unless he got medical attention.

“You good?” T.J. asked.

“Shut the fuck up and do your fuckin’ job, you douchebag.”

“Good. Glad to see you’re still fighting. Okay.” T.J. raised his voice and looked around, “Hang on everyone. I’m driving like I used to in Texas running from the cops. Also did me some racing in my teens.”

As T.J. started the bus, one of the women brought Tyler a water bottle. He broke the seal, gulped half of it down and eyed the label and recognized it had been bottled in Sonoma County, “At The Source.” He chuckled and hoped it was a good omen, not a bad one, since he didn’t plan on being anywhere close to that other Source any time soon if he could help it.

“Hey T.J.,” Tyler shouted. “I didn’t know you were from Texas, man.”

“I’m not.”

“So why were you running from the cops?”

“Cause that’s where I set off a little device. Payback’s a bitch.”

“Remind me not to get on the wrong side of even
one
of your ass hairs.”

“Good advice.” T.J. chortled. “So Jackie, am I going in the right direction? There are tire tracks all over the place, and I can’t tell where the hell the road is.”

“Yes, you are headed the right way, so go straight. Should be no houses, no small farms nearby. You’ll come to a little outpost, which hopefully will be manned by someone I can speak with.”

About five minutes later two four-door Toyotas, military trucks, zoomed past them, headed for the complex they’d just come from. Tyler had a bad feeling about them, and, sure as shit, one of the two vehicles turned around and started following them.

“How many, Tyler?”

He looked over the back of the seat. The jeep was gaining and would overtake them quickly. “I count three.”

“Three against three. I like those odds,” T.J. said.

“Jackie, time for you to take over,” came the command from Tyler. “T.J. lay down a smoke bomb, make it look like the bus’s disabled.”

“I like your thinking, Ty. C’mere, Jackie.” T.J. yelled.

“Okay, boss.”

“I’m only going to tell you once,” T.J. eyeballed Jackie, looking fierce. “Don’t slow down. I can’t teach you how to shift the gears. No time for that. So don’t stall the fuckin thing, okay?”

“Sure. But—”

Tyler watched as T.J. pulled the Afghani youth onto his lap. “We’re not dating, so don’t get any ideas.” It made Tyler chuckle to himself. If he was going to die, he was going to die laughing.

“You push down here when I take my foot off, okay?”

“Yes, boss.”

The bus jerked a bit as T.J. removed his hulking frame from the seat and Jackie’s skinny frame took over. He was searching the rear view mirror and side mirrors.

T.J. ran back to him. “There,” he said pointing straight ahead. “That’s the only place you look. Only place that matters.”

“Roger that,” Jackie said.

T.J. got a smoke flair out of his pack and busted open a window. Using a Velcro strap, he lashed it to the window frame up at the top, between the opened windows behind him, and pulled the clip. Some of the thick grey smoke filled the bus, but most of it trailed out behind them. Tyler watched the vehicle swerve to the right and left to avoid the irritating chemical emitted by the can, and was relieved to see it slowed them down a bit.