Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (18 page)

When no one emerged, Rip couldn't wait any longer. “I have the money. Give me the girl.”

Again silence.

“One more minute and I leave, taking the money with me. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven...”

His countdown made it to fifty before a figure detached itself from the shadow of a container stack. “Are you alone?” A man in a Fedora stood in the open, his face still hidden by the brim of his hat.

“Yes. Where's my wife?”

“Come down from the forklift so that I can see you're not armed.”

“Show me my wife.”

“She's in a safe place.” The man waited with his legs slightly apart, his arms crossed. “Show me the money.”

“It's in a safe place.”

“Touché.” Fedora touched a finger to his hat. “Tell me, why would a man and his wife go all the way to Honduras to buy a coffee plantation and then leave without negotiating?”

“We didn't find one for sale.”

“Perhaps you didn't ask nicely enough,” Fedora said.

Another man emerged from the shadows, and in his arms, he held Tracie, his hand clamped over her mouth. A shaft of light spilled over the man's face, revealing who it was.

Carmelo Delgado.

Rip's heart lurched. He wanted to drop down off the forklift and run to her. But he couldn't tell whether Fedora had a gun in his hand or not. He couldn't take the chance with Tracie's life hanging in the balance.

Tracie struggled to free herself, but Delgado had a powerful hold on the trained agent and it appeared he had her hands tied behind her back.

Thinking fast, Rip called out, “Tell you what. You send the girl halfway and I'll send the money halfway. She can show you that the case is in fact full of the five million dollars you asked for. When I have my wife safely over here, I'll leave and you can take the case. I won't try to stop you. All I ask is that no harm comes to my wife.”

“Bring her.” Fedora waved Delgado forward with Tracie.

Using the forklift's bulky frame as cover, Rip slipped out of his seat and dropped to the ground. He took the suitcase full of money from behind the seat of the forklift and held it against his chest.

“You need to untie my wife's hands so that she can open the case.”

Fedora and Delgado whispered to each other.

Delgado pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and hit the button, popping it open. Then he cut the tie binding Tracie's wrist, immediately pressing the knife to her throat.

Rip's heart stopped and then raced on.

Fedora shouted, “If you do something stupid, I'll have him kill you and then kill your wife.”

“Okay, I'll leave the stupid out. On the count of three, send her over, and I'll send the case.” Still using the forklift for cover, Rip bent and laid the case on the pavement, slipped the strap holding the small .40 caliber pistol from around his calf and buckled it to the handle of the case. If the strap held, the gun would arrive at the midpoint between him and Tracie's captors. “If you want the money, you have to give me the girl.”

“Okay. But if you make one wrong move, I'll kill your wife,” Fedora warned. Using Delgado and Tracie as a human shield, he backed toward the SUV and ducked behind the door.

Rip held his breath. They could be walking her back to the SUV to take off and find another place to hide her or leave her body.

When they didn't shove her into the vehicle, Rip remembered to breathe. He'd feel better when she was with him and away from Fedora and Delgado.

“Ready?” Fedora called out.

“Ready,” Rip responded. “On the count of three. One...two...three.”

Delgado gave Tracie a shove, sending her flying toward the case. He ducked behind the door with Fedora and waited.

Rip shoved the case, gun and all toward Tracie, praying she'd see the gun before the others did.

Surreptitiously pulling his Glock from beneath his shirt, he waited for the fun to begin. As soon as Tracie started out across the pavement, Rip wanted to run out and throw his body over hers to protect her from being shot.

“I have a gun aimed at Mrs. Gideon,” Fedora noted. “One false move and she is dead.”

Tracie walked toward the case and bent down beside it. She fumbled with the clasps until they popped open, taking more time than Rip liked.

When he was sure she'd found the gun and had sufficient time to pull it from the holster, he held his breath.

Tracie swiveled on her heels, squatting beside the case, turning it so that they could see inside. “The money is all here.”

Rip almost laughed.

Tracie held the gun behind her back, her legs tense, appearing spring-loaded, ready for action. “Coming your way,” she said and shoved the case hard enough it went flying at Fedora. Rip had been ready and fired at the same time as Fedora, hitting him square in the chest.

Delgado threw his knife at Tracie.

She dropped to the ground, clutching at the knife in her belly. With a quick jerk, she pulled it out and blood spurted from her body.

Rip fired back at Delgado and lurched toward her, his heart in his throat.

“Look out, Rip!” she yelled.

Fedora sat up and aimed at Rip, but didn't get the chance to pull the trigger.

A shot rang out from somewhere to Rip's right, clipping Fedora in the temple, knocking the hat off his head.

Chapter Eighteen

Rip reached Tracie and gathered her in his arms, pressing his hand against her wound to slow the blood loss.

“Hey, Mrs. Gideon, you doing all right?” he asked, brushing the hair out of her eyes so that he could see them.

She smiled up at him. “Never better, Mr. Gideon,” she answered, her voice weak, her face turning a chalky white.

“Hang in there, we're going to get you fixed up.”

“Good. I have a date with my husband I wouldn't want to miss...” Her voice faded and her eyes closed.

Rip's chest squeezed so hard he could barely breathe. “We need an ambulance here!” he yelled.

“Could you keep it down, sweetheart?” Tracie whispered. “A girl needs her beauty sleep.”

Keeping his hand pressed to her wound, Rip hugged her close. “That's my girl. You're going to be just fine.”

Covert Cowboys surrounded them. Hank brought up the rear, already on the phone calling for assistance. Within minutes, the fire department's emergency vehicle arrived and they loaded Tracie into the ambulance.

Rip couldn't remember a longer trip in his entire life.

Two hours later, he stood in the waiting room, waiting for the surgeon to appear. Hank, Adams, Bolton, Harding and Drennan had gathered around him, awaiting news of Tracie's prognosis.

The entire time they were in the waiting room, Hank had been on and off his cell phone with the authorities, with Rip's commander and with Brandon back at the Raging Bull Ranch.

Hank finally hung up and faced the men. “Brandon verified the identity of the man with Delgado. His name was Mark Kuntz. He's a former soldier from the US Army Special Forces. He was in the same unit as the sniper who tried to kill you several weeks ago, Rip.”

Rip's chest felt hollow. “Fenton Rollins?”

“Yes. Brandon found several photographs of the two together in Iraq. And, get this—Kuntz was Senator Thomas Craine's executive assistant.”

“Wasn't Craine the one who was working on trade negotiations with several Central American countries?” Rip ran a hand through his hair, sick at the thought of his own countrymen selling them out.

Hank nodded. “I had Brandon search the photographs of Senator Craine's visit to Central America, including the one in which we saw him with Delgado. Mark Kuntz was in that photo, as well. Not prominently featured, but there in the background.”

Rip's fists clenched. “Is Senator Craine involved in the illegal arms deals with the terrorists?”

Hank shook his head. “So far, we haven't found a definitive connection other than Kuntz working for Craine. I have Brandon searching every link he can find, digging into their emails, their phone records and their bank accounts. Senator Craine has several corporations he's associated with, some of which have offshore accounts. So far we have nothing and Senator Craine has refused to be interviewed. It's in the Feds' hands now.”

Rip drew in a deep breath to calm the rage he felt toward these men who'd become traitors to their own country. “You're not stopping the investigation, are you?”

Hank smiled, though his eyes narrowed. “Not on your life...or Tracie's.”

“Good.”

“With Mark Kuntz and Fenton Rollins out of the picture now, are you planning to go back to your unit?” Hank asked.

Rip hadn't even gotten past leaving the hospital. He wouldn't leave until he knew for sure Tracie was going to be all right. “I haven't gotten that far.”

“When Tracie is released, I'd like you two to take some time off. I'll clear it with your unit commander if you don't mind me arranging things. You need it, and I'm sure Tracie would feel better if you were with her during her recuperation.”

Rip glanced at the doorway to the surgical waiting room. “I'm okay with whatever.” He didn't care about anything at that moment but getting news from the doctor.

Then a man in scrubs, a hair cap and surgical booties entered the waiting room. “Are you the folks with Tracie Kosart?”

All six of the men answered as one. “Yes.”

“Good news. She's going to be just fine. No major damage to internal organs. After a night of observation, she could be ready to go home.”

All the air rushed out of Rip's lungs and, for a moment, he felt light-headed. “Can I see her?”

“She's in recovery now and asking for her husband.” The doctor's brows rose. “Is that you?”

Rip nearly laughed out loud before he nodded, “That's me.” He ran for the door, happier than he'd been since graduating BUD/S.

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Tracy lounged in a deck chair, staring out over a mountain valley with a cup of hot cocoa cradled in her hands. “It's just like I imagined it.”

“It's better than I had imagined it because you're here.” Rip held out his hand, taking one of hers.

“You're a smooth talker, for a frogman.” Tracie squeezed his fingers. She couldn't remember a time she was more content.

Rip shot a twisted smile at her. “How would you rank this as a first date?”

“Right up there.” She sipped her cocoa. “Although I don't think most first dates last an entire week.”

“No?” Rip stood and took the mug from her hands. “Well, we have your boss to thank for that. It was nice of him to offer his mountain cabin for your recuperation and the plane to get us here in comfort.” Rip eased her out of her chair and into his arms, so careful not to disturb her stitches.

Tracie leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his rock-hard waist and resting her cheek against his chiseled chest. Feeling very lucky to have him, she lifted her face and stood on her toes to press a kiss to Rip's lips. He tasted of marshmallows and cocoa and she loved it. “Mmm. Remind me to thank Hank.”

Despite the tug at her stitches, she didn't want the kiss to end and pushed up on her toes again, deepening it until their tongues writhed together and her body heated.

The cell phone on the table beside the lounge chair buzzed and vibrated, shattering the silence of the mountainside.

Rip looked up, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Should we answer it?”

Tracie shook her head. “No.”

Rip glanced at the cell phone. “It's yours and, if I'm not mistaken, it's Hank.”

Tracie sighed and bent to grab the phone. “Kosart here.”

“Tracie, are you with Rip?”

She smiled, tipping her head so that the man in question could nibble her neck. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Turn on the television.”

Tracie couldn't think straight with Rip's lips angling lower, his hands parting her silk robe. “What?”

“Put me on speaker,” Hank demanded.

She hit the button for speakerphone and Hank's voice came over loud and clear, “Turn on the television. Senator Craine is about to make a statement on live TV.”

Rip sighed. “Come on.” He slipped an arm around her waist, guided her back into the cabin and hit the on button for the state-of-the-art video system. It had taken him half an hour to figure out all the controls, but he had them down now.

Following Hank's instructions, they found the channel and waited.

Senator Craine appeared in front of a podium with several microphones. He started by stating that he didn't have any idea that his executive assistant Mark Kuntz was running arms to rebel fighters in Honduras and that he was sorry for the deaths of the DEA agent and the SEAL who'd been sent in to retrieve him. While he made his statement, a disturbance occurred as uniformed FBI agents pushed through the crowd, walked up onto the stage and cuffed the senator.

The reporter covering the story described what was happening in an excited tone. “They're charging him with treason and misappropriation of government equipment!”

The press went wild, cameras flashed and the senator was led away.

Shocked, Tracie stood with her mouth open, struggling to comprehend what had just occurred.

“Tracie? Rip?” Hank's voice sounded nearby and Tracie realized she hadn't hung up.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked.

Hank laughed. “Brandon kept digging and found the bank accounts that connected Craine to Kuntz's dirty dealings with Delgado and the terrorist training camp. It just took longer than we expected. Although, I can't argue with the timing. Perhaps the public arrest of Senator Craine will serve as a reminder to our other elected officials to keep it clean.”

“We can always hope.” Tracie shook her head. “You don't know who to trust anymore.”

“You can trust me,” Hank said.

“And me.” Rip kissed her cheek and leaned over the phone she still held. “Hank, just in case I didn't tell you before, thanks for this week, and for sending Tracie to help me. You couldn't have picked a better cowboy from Covert Cowboys, Inc.”

“Glad to be of service,” Hank said. “And thank you for your service. The Citation will be there tomorrow to take you back to Mississippi where your unit is anxious to receive you with a hero's welcome.”

“I don't know about hero.” Rip's hand slid around Tracie's waist and he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Gosling was the hero.”

“Speaking of Gosling,” Hank said. “I've set up a trust fund for his wife and baby. They won't want for anything for the rest of their lives.”

A lump formed in Tracie's throat. She knew money couldn't replace a husband and father.

She glanced up at Rip, noting the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He'd been thinking the same thing.

“Thanks, Hank,” Rip said.

Tracie hung up and leaned into Rip's embrace. “I feel so bad for Gosling's widow and child.”

“I know Jeanette.” Rip smoothed Tracie's hair back and tipped her head up so that he could stare into her eyes. “I even asked her if she'd have done anything different if she had known he'd die. She said no. She loved him with all her heart and knew the risks that came with loving a SEAL.”

“She would have wanted every moment of happiness she could grab,” Tracie finished, finally understanding that concept.

“So CCI Agent Kosart,” Rip pressed a featherlight kiss to the tip of her nose. “What's it to be? Are you ready to end what we just started?”

She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “No way in hell.” She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “I'm going for all the happiness I can squeeze into the time we have together.”

“Are you going to come visit me in Mississippi or anywhere else I might be stationed?”

“Wild horses couldn't keep me away.” She stared up at him. “Would you mind terribly if I stayed with you between my CCI assignments?”

Rip's lips spread into a wide grin and he laughed out loud. “Honey, I wouldn't have it any other way.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt form CORNERED by HelenKay Dimon.