Special Forces Rendezvous (4 page)

“I’m Dr. Julia Davenport. A colleague of mine was supposed to—”

Her voice died abruptly as she suddenly noticed something up ahead in the distance.

She wrinkled her brow, trying to make sense of that head-scratching visual. Was that a big pile of garbage bags? What the hell were these soldiers doing with— Body bags. Oh, God. Those were
body bags.

As horror whipped up her spine, Julia’s gaze flew to the first person she saw. It happened to be a beefy African-American soldier with shuttered brown eyes and a thick black mustache poking out from the top of his mask.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice sounding far calmer than she felt.

The man didn’t answer. Rather, he grabbed her arm and forcibly moved her away from her truck. “Please come with us, ma’am,” he said in a monotone voice.

Outrage slammed into her. “What?
No.
I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on here.”

Her protest was ignored. The grip on her arm tightened.

“I’m an American citizen!” she blurted out. “You can’t just detain me for no reason! I haven’t done anything wrong, damn it!”

She was still shouting out protests as the soldiers dragged her away.

Chapter 4

“W
hat is your business here?”

Julia was grinding her teeth so hard that she was surprised the enamel hadn’t yet filed away to dust. If they asked her that question one more time, she was absolutely going to scream.

For the past hour and a half, she’d been detained in a canvas tent, sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair in the middle of the dirt floor. The chair was the only piece of furniture in the tent, which lent the space a seriously ominous feel. She wasn’t bound, she wasn’t gagged, but the two guards at the entrance and the two soldiers looming over her made it clear that she was a prisoner here.

She had no frickin’ clue what was going on, but it sure as hell wasn’t good. Those body bags out there... Oh, God, and where was Kevin? Where were the people? As she’d been dragged through the village toward the tents set up near the tree line, all she’d seen were soldiers.

Esperanza was deserted. No signs of life. None.

“Answer the question, please.”

Tightening her lips, she met the masked face of one of the soldiers, a tall man who carried himself with so much authority that she knew he must be the one in charge. The surgical masks everyone wore definitely indicated there was some sort of medical emergency in progress, but because nobody was wearing full hazmat suits, she deduced that the mysterious disease that had triggered these precautions probably wasn’t airborne.

“I already answered your question,” she said tersely. “My name is Julia Davenport. I’m a doctor and I run the clinic in Valero. I came here to check on my colleague, Dr. Kevin Carlisle.”

“At this hour of the night?” Suspicion lined the man’s tone. When he crossed his arms over his broad chest, her gaze was drawn to the four stars on the shoulders of his uniform.

She scanned her brain, trying to remember what that signified. Holy crap, he was a
general.

Which spoke volumes about the importance of this interrogation.

Angrier than she’d ever been, Julia met her captor’s eyes. “How many more times do I have to answer these same questions? I told you, Dr. Carlisle radioed me. It sounded like an emergency. I was worried. I drove up here to check on him. The end.”

“Watch your tone,” the second soldier ordered.

She shifted her gaze to him, noting that he looked younger than his counterpart and wore a uniform without any insignia. “Oh, gee, was I being rude? Are your other prisoners more polite and agreeable than I am?”

“You’re not a prisoner,” the general replied, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, no?” Arching a brow, she rose from her chair.

The two soldiers guarding the door instantly snapped the barrels of their assault rifles in her direction, their body language becoming menacing.

“That’s what I thought,” she said coolly, then sank back down.

The general’s lips tightened. “Let’s not play games, Dr. Davenport. I need to—”

“Games?” she interrupted. “Are you
kidding
me? This isn’t a game, for Pete’s sake! Where is my colleague? Why is the village overflowing with body bags?”

As expected, she didn’t receive an answer. Just another question.

“Did you inform any of the staff at the Valero clinic that you were coming up here?”

“No.”

The lie came out smoothly, and there’d been no hesitation on her part. Somehow, she’d known that answering yes to that would be the worst possible thing she could do. As it was, she’d only officially told Lissa about her plans, but the nurse had undoubtedly filled the others in after Julia had left. Maybe it was her paranoia talking, but she had the sinking feeling that these men would send a team of soldiers to the clinic if they thought she’d said anything to her coworkers.

“You left Valero without telling anyone?” The younger soldier looked unconvinced.

“I was alone in my tent when Dr. Carlisle’s distress call came in,” she answered. “My colleagues had their hands full in the clinic with some potential malaria patients, so I just left. I planned on radioing them when I reached Esperanza.”

The men exchanged a look, and then the general gave an imperceptible nod that made Julia’s heart drop to the pit of her stomach. They knew she was lying. Crap.

She decided to distract them. “Why are you wearing masks?” she demanded.

“That is none of your concern,” the general said stiffly.

“Are you kidding me?” she said again, as amazed as she was outraged. “I’m a doctor, and you’re clearly worried that there’s been an outbreak of something. Is it a bacterium? How is it transmitted?”

“Dr. Davenport, we are the ones asking the questions here. Now please tell us, who in Valero knows you came here?”

Disbelief spiraled through her. She shook her head a couple of times, wondering how any of this could possibly be happening, but the more she tried to make sense of the situation, the more afraid she became. Her palms dampened, her body growing cold. Something really, really bad was going on here.

God, Kevin, where are you?

“Dr. Davenport,” the general snapped.

“No,” she snapped back.

He faltered. “No, what?”

“I’m not answering any more questions until I speak to a lawyer.” She scowled at him. “Or to someone who’s willing to give me some answers of my own.”

Then she shut her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the two men hovering over her.

After a moment, the general spun on his heel and stalked toward the tent’s entrance. The younger soldier quickly trailed after him.

Both men exited the tent, as did the two guards, but she didn’t fool herself into believing that the latter had gone far. She suspected the guards were right outside those canvas flaps, ready to shoot her down if she tried to escape.

Escape.

What on earth was going
on?

And why was she starting to suspect that the only way she was getting out of here would be in one of those body bags lying on the dirt?

* * *

Sebastian watched in growing alarm as more body bags were tossed into the back of the wide-load trucks parked at the entrance of the village. He’d counted thirty-five bags in the first truck, and another forty-one in the second. Had to be the villagers. Christ. More dead villagers.

The soldiers in charge of disposal efficiently carried out their task without comment or expression. Sebastian swallowed a rush of disgust, wondering how they justified it to themselves. Probably assured themselves they were good little soldiers simply following orders, and who were they to question
orders?

His jaw tightened. Brought to mind all those soldiers in Nazi Germany—they hadn’t questioned much either, had they?

Battling his rising fury, Sebastian crept deeper into the forest, moving through the shadows like a nocturnal predator. Being a black ops soldier meant he possessed the power of invisibility, the ability to sneak right underneath these men’s noses, even slit their throats without anyone knowing he was ever there.

Through the trees, he espied a cluster of khaki-colored tents. The men in charge had set up a headquarters of some sort, and that was the place to be if he wanted answers. The strap of his M4 was slung over his shoulder, but he didn’t reach for the rifle. Rather, he slipped a lethal hunting knife from the sheath on his hip and gripped the ox-bone handle with ease. If he had to eliminate a guard, he preferred to do it quietly.

He neared an opening in the brush and pressed himself up against the rotting bark of a rosewood tree. His position offered a line of sight to the entrance of a tent that two uniformed men had just emerged from. They were tailed by two heavily armed soldiers, and the uniforms marked all four as American. The entire village was crawling with both U.S. and San Marquez military, indisputable evidence that some sort of joint task force was in effect.

His stomach went rigid as he thought of those body bags. Task force? No, make that joint
cleanup crew.

“She’s lying.”

The muffled voice drifted toward him, uttered by—holy hell, a United States Army general. Christ, they’d sent someone that high on the totem pole to handle this cleanup? This was bigger than he’d thought.

He inched closer, struggling to make out the conversation occurring twenty yards away.

“...to Valero. Question the staff, see what Carlisle told them.”

“...necessary? And to contain that many people?”

“Easier if...”

Sebastian’s gut swam with uneasiness. He needed to get closer.

Adjusting his grip on the knife, he moved without making a solitary sound, finding cover behind another tree, this one with low-hanging branches that allowed him to blend into the darkness.

“...the clinic will be handled.”

The clinic? Waves of foreboding crawled up his spine, moving faster and gathering in intensity when the general uttered a very familiar name.

“Davenport needs to be handled, too.”

Sebastian’s shoulders became stiffer than a block of marble. Davenport? As in
Julia
Davenport? As in the woman he’d spoken to only hours ago?

“...won’t be hard. Her death could be blamed on the virus.”

The general seemed to mull it over. “Carlisle was checking on patients when he died.”

“We’ll say she was here, too. Making the rounds with Carlisle.”

“The powers that be won’t like this. Two dead American doctors? This won’t look good.” There was a savage curse. “But that’s what they get for releasing Meridian this close to a damn international medical facility. Who was the genius who made
that
call?”

Meridian? Sebastian filed away the word as he watched the duo move away from the tent.

The general glanced at the soldiers manning the entrance. “If she tries to run, shoot her,” he ordered.

Sebastian’s body was strung tighter than a drum as the two men stalked off. If what he’d heard was accurate, then Julia Davenport was inside that tent. How the hell had
that
happened?

The colleague. Crap. She must have driven up here to check on her colleague, that Kevin guy she’d been worried about earlier.

Her death could be blamed on the virus.

His next breath came out ragged as a jolt of anger slammed into his gut. These bastards were planning to kill Julia and blame it on the virus.

No way.

No freaking way would he allow that to happen.

She’s not your objective.

The nagging little voice only further pissed him off. He knew that rescuing the doctor wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, all the mayhem and confusion of the past ten months was a direct result of his unit’s attempt to rescue a
doctor.
But Harrison’s death was no sweat off his back, not after they’d discovered the man was treating humans like lab rats.

But Julia Davenport? He’d be damned if he was going to let her become another casualty of that goddamn virus. So yes, he ought to be gathering more intel, listening in on more conversations, attempting to get a peek inside one of those body bags, but Sebastian was more than willing to give up any insight he’d find if it meant saving the smart, sassy woman who’d made his body burn today.

* * *

The soft hissing sound brought a frown to Julia’s lips. She twisted around in the chair, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from. She strained her ears, but the sound had stopped.

Tssssss.

Her forehead creased. Okay, what
was
that?

For a second she wondered if her captors had let loose a poisonous snake in the tent or something. As her heartbeat quickened, she shot to her feet and examined the ground, but she didn’t see a rattler crawling on the dirt.

Tssssss.

She spun around, gaping when she noticed a line slowly appearing in the tent wall.

Someone was cutting the canvas!

Fear and astonishment warred inside her, but the latter quickly overtook the former when a large hand poked through the slit in the tent and a familiar pair of silver eyes suddenly locked with hers.

Julia gasped. “Seba—” Her jaw snapped closed when he swiftly held his index finger to his lips.

A million questions ambushed her brain, but even if he hadn’t ordered her to remain quiet, she suspected she wouldn’t have been able to make her vocal cords work anymore. She was too dumbfounded.

The man who slipped into the tent like a ghost was not the same one she remembered from Valero. Gone were the casual pants and T-shirt. Now he wore a skintight black shirt that clung to the rippled muscles of his broad chest, and black cargo pants encased his long legs. He had black boots on his feet, and a nasty-looking rifle slung over one shoulder, though not as nasty as that blade he skillfully wielded in his hand.

Julia gulped as the sharp steel of the knife winked in the light from the electric lanterns illuminating the tent.

She was looking into the eyes of a warrior. The playful, sensual twinkle from before had vanished. Sebastian Stone was all business now, those gray eyes grim with fierce determination. Waves of strength and danger rolled off his powerful body, making her mouth go dry.

Without a word, he walked toward her and cupped her chin with one hand.

She jumped, then relaxed when she saw the unspoken question in his gaze.

Are you okay?

Julia managed a shaky nod. God, what was he doing here?

And why did she get the feeling that this man was the
furthest
thing from a freelance journalist?

Sebastian took her arm and led her to the slit he’d created in the tent. “Stay close,” he murmured, his voice so low it was barely audible. “If I say move, move. If I say stop, stop. Do exactly what I tell you, do you understand?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. And then her pulse took off.

Wait a minute—he was helping her
escape?

“This entire village is crawling with soldiers,” she whispered with a violent shake of her head. “They’ll shoot us if we try to run.”

“They’ll kill you if you stay.”

You.
Not
us.
She didn’t miss the distinction, and she suddenly grew queasy. There wasn’t an ounce of confusion on Sebastian’s rugged face, only focused intensity, which told her he must know a hell of a lot more about what was going on here than she did.