Swift Strike (SEAL Team 14 Book 2) (23 page)

Three more thrusts and he followed suit, collapsing into her arms. Hauling her against him, he plopped a kiss on her forehead.

“Just for the record,” he said, breaking the silence in the darkened room. “I love you too.”

“R
emember to keep
your arms out like this,” Jesse said, his voice booming. “Don’t forget your stance either. You need to stand with your feet about shoulder width apart with your left foot slightly leading.” His arms were outstretched at little less than a one hundred and eighty degree angle. The handgun that was clasped in his hands still looked menacing even after two days of practice.

It was around five o’clock in the afternoon and they’d been practicing for the past two hours. The sun was beating down on her, making beads of sweat roll into her eyes. Wiping a frustrated hand across her brow, she stared up at the man who’d become her friend, lover, confidant, and protector in such a short amount of time. Jesse had insisted that she needed to learn how to defend herself, even though she was now protected by a veritable army since the rest of his teammates had arrived at the small house. Jesse had even attempted to show her some martial arts self-defense techniques. That had only gone a little better than her current shooting lessons. Refocusing her attention, Lena repositioned her arm, mimicking his movements.

“Good,” he said, watching her shift her body to reach the appropriate stance. “Now aim and fire.”

Inhaling and then slowly exhaling, Lena pulled the trigger. She was wearing earplugs, but she still heard the muted sound of the gunfire, felt the kickback as the weapon’s residual energy surged backwards into her palms. The bullet went wide. Instead of striking her intended target—the empty soup can that Jesse had set up on the fly for her impromptu marksmanship practice—she hit one of the large trees in the background. She tried again and again. The bark of the tree exploded like confetti with each pull of the trigger.

“I really suck at this, Jesse,” she said finally, her booted foot tapping against the ground as she stared at the butchered tree.

Rubbing a strong hand against his jaw, he looked down at her a little perplexed. Then grinning, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, you really do. But at least you remembered to grip the gun properly this time. That’s progress.”

“This is a waste of time.”

“No it isn’t,” he said fiercely, the humor instantly leaving his eyes. “This is important. You’re getting comfortable with handling a weapon. If you’re put into a dangerous situation and I’m not there, or any of my other teammates, your training will kick in. Trust me.”

“Hey, you two done out here? CO is on the line.”

Lena swiveled around to see Will Castle peeking his head outside of the back door. She’d been trying to keep all of their names straight since seven tall, heavily-muscled, brooding soldiers had taken over the small house. Will was easy to remember because of his distinctive blue and green eyes.

“Yeah we’re pretty much finished here, man,” Jesse confirmed, his hand reaching out to squeeze Lena gently on the shoulder. Unconsciously, she leaned into the comfort of his grip. Commander Dewitt had spoken to them all multiple times via the video communications system set up in the basement room of the house, so they were now all familiar with the hastily formulated plan.

In less than ten hours, they were all going to board a helicopter to Cape Vidal. Once there, Lena was to meet with her father as directed by Faizal Shariff. Even though AnSawar had stated that they just wanted her to converse with her father, Jesse had pointed out that the group probably already had a good idea as to where her father was located. That AnSawar didn’t really need her to find her father. Essentially, this was a trap of some kind.

It was also their best bet on nabbing some of AnSawar’s key operatives, possibly stopping the group before they could wreak more havoc across Africa or move their terror campaign abroad. It was also Lena’s best chance of discovering where her family was being held hostage. But she wasn’t walking into the situation alone, trap or not. Jesse and the rest of his SEAL Team comrades would be there, watching her back until the time was right to move in.

Entering into the lower level of the home, Lena watched as all of the men gathered around the video monitor. Commander Dewitt’s deep, gritty voice fit his craggy, weathered face. Standing beside him was a tall and slender young woman whose gaze quickly skimmed over everyone in the room.

“Ms. Westlake,” Mark said. “We appreciate your cooperation with us on this. I understand that this is a very challenging situation for you.”

Lena stiffly nodded her head in acknowledgment. Again, a slew of emotions assaulted her all at once. Hope that this ordeal would soon be over, sorrow that she would have to betray her father, and warmth at the realization that no matter what happened tomorrow, Jesse loved her. It was that last fact that kept her going. She still couldn’t believe that after all this time and under these completely unideal circumstances, she’d fallen in love. There was a certain peace in that knowledge alone, the knowledge that she was in love and that that love was returned unconditionally.

Early this morning, Jesse had relayed all of the information—or at least all of the information that the CIA had given him—about her father’s business dealings. Apparently, her father had essentially gambled away close to ninety percent of his fortune. He was now only worth a fraction of the five hundred million dollars that he once had. This incredible downfall was the likely motivator behind her father’s new corrupt business dealings with AnSawar.

Yesterday, after a technician had processed the envelope, Jesse and Hawk had finally been able to peruse the contents of the package she was given. In it were change of deed and transfer of shares documents for five of her father’s more well-known business ventures. Now it seemed that he was being extorted by the same individuals he’d sold out his country for. Lena was slowly coming to terms with the fact that each scenario that could play out tomorrow ended with her father being taken away from her. But she knew that the sad truth was that he was already gone, had been gone for years.

Lena listened intently as CO Mark Dewitt went over the strategy one more time before they readied to leave. She was an anxiety-ridden, tattered mess by the time the call finished.

“You okay?” Jesse asked, concern for her apparent in his somber gaze.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, giving him what amounted to a weak smile.

“You’re going to get through this, Lena,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts. “You’re strong. You’re a lot stronger than you even realize. All you have to do is get through one more day. And I’ll be there right by your side the whole time.”

“I’m just glad that you’re going to be there.” Reaching out her hand, she clasped his. They were by themselves downstairs now, everyone else having departed to get ready for the mission.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he said, bringing her hand up to his lips. And Lena knew with an unparalleled certainty that he meant every word.

Cape Vidal, South Africa

w
hat she had
to do was simple. At least that’s what Lena kept telling herself over and over again. Jesse had spent the past few days coaching her, reassuring her. Yet, as she walked up the stone steps of the ornate cliffside mansion, she still felt sick to her stomach.

What if she screwed things up? What if her father could see right through her and realize that she was working with the U.S. Navy and other law enforcement officials to bring both him and AnSawar down? She couldn’t think about that now; she couldn’t allow doubts to consume her. She had to be positive. She knew that by now, Jesse and his teammates were already in position, ready to storm the building if anything went wrong. Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage, Lena rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door cracked opened. A thin, young African woman wearing a maid’s outfit opened the door. “Yes?” she asked, the woman’s eyes guarded and nervous. She was sweating and seemed a little confused.

“I’m here to see my father,” Lena said, her voice coming out a lot calmer than she had expected. She tried not to nervously touch the wire that she was wearing. She didn’t need to draw any untoward attention to herself.

“Your father?” the woman repeated, blinking at her.

“Yes, my father. I’m Lena. I know that he’s here, and I need to speak with him immediately.”

Lena knew how she must’ve looked. She was wearing an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a blouse that Jesse had managed to get for her, but the ordinary outfit wasn’t up to the extraordinary standards of the Westlake family image. No, the daughter of Alfred Westlake should have been decked out in an expensive Armani suit or at the very least designer jeans. Lena also wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. The housekeeper probably thought that she was some kind of lunatic because she couldn’t have possibly been a member of the Westlake establishment.

“I need to see my father right now,” Lena said in the haughtiest tone that she could muster. “I won’t ask you again.” She was her father’s daughter after all. She’d been playing the part for the past thirty odd years, so speaking with authority had never been an ability that she’d lacked.

Sensing the change in her demeanor, the maid departed behind the door and scurried off to somewhere inside of the fortress, presumably to fetch Lena’s father. Letting herself inside the home, Lena stopped before going too far into the house. The home was opulent, even by her father’s standards. Whoever his new girlfriend was, she had expensive tastes.

“You’re doing great, Lena,” Jesse’s voice sounded in her ear from the miniscule ear receiver that she wore. She went over in her head everything that she was supposed to say to her father. She nervously twisted the cross where it hung on her chain. The seemingly innocuous necklace had been outfitted with a nearly microscopic listening device embedded on the inside.

Time seemed to stand still as she waited anxiously for her father. Waited to hear the familiar thud of his booted footsteps on the pristine hardwood floors. Waited to confront him for the first time in years. She wasn’t left alone to her own devices for too long; the housekeeper returned moments later.

“He will see you,” she said, her eyes averted down to the floor. She led Lena past the grand foyer, down a long hallway, and up the steps of the lengthy spiral staircase.

“This room,” the woman said, pointing to a large, stained oak door at the end of the corridor. Opening the door, Lena immediately saw her father. He was sitting near the window, behind a desk. His familiar dark-brown eyes bored a hole into her as soon as she walked into the room.

“Lena,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse.

“Father,” she answered, her feet suddenly refusing to move from their spot on his Persian rug. Her eyes took in the man before her. The man who had once been her hero. He had aged well. He certainly didn’t look like a man in his late sixties. His physique was still lean, his skin still tanned, and his brown eyes as sharp as ever. His gray hair was only just beginning to thin out. As usual, he was wearing an expensive tailored suit, though she noted that it was slightly wrinkled.

“It’s good to see you again,” her father said, leaning forward. He nodded for her to take a seat.

“I’m not here for a social visit, Father.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Phillip.”

“What are you doing here, Lena?”

“I have a package for you.” Sitting down in the chair opposite his desk, she placed the manila envelope on his table.

“What’s this?”

“You tell me.”

He took a moment to glare at her before opening up the packet. She watched his face carefully as his eyes scanned the documents before him. His eyes widened as they fell across each damning word on the pages.

“
What
is this, Lena?”

“I was hoping that you could tell me, Father.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No. It’s not a joke. Your friends, you know, the ones that you are selling weapons to on the black market, asked me to deliver these documents to you. I would guess that you and AnSawar had a disagreement of sorts? And now they want you to sign over your company to them.”

“Lena, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do, Dad. The millions—if not billions—of dollars that that you would gain from unloading the MX-R09 onto criminal elements that would pay substantially more than the United States government is one hell of an incentive. Especially since we’re virtually penniless now, Father. Actually, I’m surprised that you can still afford to keep the lights on in this monstrosity that you live in. I guess for now, the Westlake name brand still has some pull.”

Wincing, her father closed his eyes. Rubbing a hand across his brow in a gesture of frustration, he let out a deep breath. “You’re right. I made some very bad investments. You and Phillip…well, your inheritance is virtually wiped out. I thought—I thought that the only way out was to make a deal with an entity outside of the United States. But I didn’t go through with it, Lena.”

She scoffed, shaking her head as she swallowed an insult that she was about to hurl at him.

“It’s true,” he continued. “Lena, I didn’t go through with it.”

“If that’s the case, Father, then why does the FBI have evidence of you transferring funds to contacts who are associated with AnSawar?”

“It’s because I sent those wire transfers, Lena. Not Daddy Dearest here.”

Lena turned her head sharply as the door opened behind her.

Steven
. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. She shook her head multiple times to make sure that she wasn’t daydreaming. No, Steven was there. Alive. He looked strong and healthy, not broken and battered as he’d been the last time she’d seen him. Not dead.

“Steven,” she was finally able to utter.

“That’s right, Lena,” he said, grinning at the look of disbelief in her eyes. “It’s me, in the flesh. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“No. You’re dead. I saw them kill you,” she said, shaking her head.

“I know, that did seem rather real, didn’t it? Faizal sure knows how to handle a blade, that’s for sure. Luckily, it was a fake one.”

“Why would you do this?”

“Why?
Why
?” his voice bellowed out in pure rage. “Maybe you should ask Alfred about that, Lena,” he said, seconds before he pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at her father’s forehead.

****

“Who the hell just entered the room?” Jesse asked, worry infusing his voice. As if Lena could hear his unanswered question, he heard her say the bastard’s name. “Steven.”

Shit.
Shit
. “She’s talking to Steven Cutler,” Jesse said to his teammates as they remained in their strike positions outside of Westlake’s home. Ready to burst in at a moment’s notice. Jesse wanted that moment to be now, he didn’t like where things were headed. Steven Cutler was a variable that they had basically ruled out.

“Whoa, is this guy’s middle name Lazarus by chance?” Luke asked.

“We’ve got to get in there,” Jesse said, his voice hard and tense.

“Not yet,” Malcolm’s calm voice filtered in through the crimson-red haze that momentarily clouded Jesse’s vision. “We need information on where her family is being held.”

Jesse seethed. He was ready to storm the building. But Malcolm was right, they needed key intel on the whereabouts of Lena’s mother and brother. He gritted his teeth. They would have to wait.