Rogue (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 1) (2 page)

“Key words . . .” Kneeling in front of her, Nash searched for the right message to make her see reason. “
As long as you’re carrying his baby
, you’re safe. What happens after your son’s delivery? Do you honestly think, having witnessed Vicente murder on a whim, he’ll keep you around?” He gestured to her cuffed hands. “He’s restrained the mother of his child. Who does that?”

“I know.” Her expression clouded. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m in a bad spot, but I have to trust that everything’s going to be okay.”

Rocking back on his heels, Nash closed his eyes and groaned. “This is the most busted-ass rescue mission ever. Any second, Vicente’s goons could rush in here, killing us both, and you’re in a unicorn and rainbow fog.
Wake up, Maisey
. We’ve got to get out of here—
now
.”

Her soft cries only steeled his resolve.

“No time for tears. Sorry your marriage went bad. But—”

“We’re n-not even married. H-he lied to me. He already h-has a wife, but she’s in Columbia. She can’t have children, but he told me he’ll never divorce her because of his faith.” Her once light tears were now borderline hysterics. “
His
faith! What about mine? A-all my life I’ve struggled to be good, yet here I am, the unwed mother of a drug lord’s b-baby.”

Nash should’ve reached out to Maisey, drawing her into a hug while whispering sweet assurances into her hair, but he was no longer capable of that level of compassion. Losing his wife and son had changed him. Steeled him. Now, he was a machine calibrated to one goal—keeping this woman safe.

“Get your act together.” Grasping her wrists, he made quick work of popping the locks on her cuffs. “Sixty seconds, we’re ghosts.”

“I can’t,” she said on the heels of a wail. “Where would we even go?”

“Trust me. I’ve got a plan.” Nash rose to his full height, and slapped his helmet back on. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but wise up and realize Hubby views you as nothing more than his own personal incubator, which is why we’ve got to bounce.”

He scooped her into his arms.

“Put me down!” Bucking against his hold, she made it a nightmare for Nash to kill the room’s overhead lights, then gauge between a crack in the drapes if their
friends
were within eyeshot. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Vicente will kill us both.”

“No biggee . . .” Jaw clenched, Nash forced a breath before opening the door leading to the hall. “If you don’t stop fighting me, we’re already dead.”

MAISEY BLAKE BUCKED and kicked and did everything within her power to escape Nash’s binding hold. The one thing she didn’t do was scream. Why? The last thing she wanted was to attract attention. What didn’t Nash get about the fact that as long as she was pregnant, she held all the power? As soon as she went into labor, Vicente would get her and their son safely to a hospital. Once there, she’d solicit help. While she adored her mother for sending out her own personal cavalry, if Vicente or one of his men caught her trying to escape, there would only be more trouble.

“Stop fighting,” Nash demanded.

“I will if you put me down. I have a plan for after the baby’s born. I know I can get Vicente to see reason and let me share in raising our son.”

“What happened to you, Mais?” Nash kept right on charging down the endless corridor. He passed a light switch and flicked it off. “Back when I knew you, you weren’t this clueless.”

She struggled all the harder, writhing to pummel his chest. “Put me down!”

“Hey!” called a voice from the dark. Maisey winced against the sudden glare of lights.

“Miss Maisey?” The guard sounded confused.

“Boss told me we’re moving her,” Nash said in an authoritative tone.

“I haven’t heard. Mr. Rodriguez briefs everyone regarding his woman.” Eyes narrowed, he asked, “Who are you?”

“Set me down.” Throughout the exchange, Maisey’s heart beat faster. Afraid runaway blood pressure could harm her baby, she tugged Nash’s sleeve. “I’m fine walking on my own.”

“Sure?” The warmth in his voice feigned concern. In reality, if Nash cared one iota, he would never have interfered in her business. All the same, he set her to her feet, never loosening his hold on her upper arm.

“Both of you stay put.” The guard took a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Mr. Rodriguez, this is Manuel. I’ve got a situation with Miss Maisey. I need to verify you gave the okay for her transport?”

“Negative,” said Vicente, his voice tinny over the radio. “Shoot to kill whoever she’s with and disable her—just don’t aim for my child.”

In the moment it took Maisey to grasp the fact that the man she’d once loved had ordered his associate to hurt her, any illusions she might have had for her pregnancy to have a happy ending were shattered.

Nash was right.

She’d been a fool in not doing everything in her power to escape.

“
Run
!” Nash delivered two blows to the guard, dropping him to his knees. After taking the injured man’s weapon, Nash steered Maisey into the night.

“Shoot her!” The booming voice unmistakably belonged to the man she’d once believed to be her husband. “Aim for her legs! Don’t hurt my son!”

“I’ll cover,” Nash pushed her ahead. “Get out that side door. I’m right behind you.”

Gunfire erupted.

This time, she didn’t question his orders. Why hadn’t she listened before? If she’d left peacefully, it might have been hours before anyone had noticed she’d gone.

She wrenched open the deadbolt, then darted into the dark, muggy night. Thick air gripped her as tightly as her fear, making it hard to think or breathe. As Nash had directed, she should have kept moving, but where would she even go?

Bullets exploded against the lawn where she stood, forcing her to run
blindly. She wore a flimsy nightgown and slippers. Dirt hit her exposed arms and cheeks with such force she couldn’t be sure whether or not she’d been shot.

“Hurry!” Fingers once again digging into her upper arm, Nash propelled her off of the manicured lawn and into the swamp. Vines tangled about her feet and thorns clawed her hands. Warm mud oozed into the soles of thin satin house shoes. “Faster!”

“I’m trying,” she snapped, barely able to catch her breath. Pulse racing, love for her baby propelled her ever deeper into the night. As much as she tried telling herself this could only be a nightmare from which she’d soon wake, the continued
pop
of gunshots shattered all illusion, drumming into her head their horrifying reality.

“I-I can’t do this,” she cried, on the verge of throwing up. Though this was hardly the time for a hormonal breakdown, once tears started they refused to stop.

“Yes, you can.”

When she slowed, Nash hefted her into his arms, somehow impossibly still trudging forward through mud and riotous vegetation.

The gunshots had stopped, but Vicente’s bark carried on the thick, moldy-smelling air.
Find her
!

“We’ll never escape him,” Maisey cried against Nash’s chest. “He’ll never give up.”

“Neither will we.”

He carried her for what she guessed was another fifteen minutes before they came to a clearing and a small, sandy beach.

“Son of a . . .” After setting her down, he flicked on a light on his helmet to inspect a section of rope tied to a cypress. “Looks like it’s been cut. See how clean the break is? The markings in the sand?”

“Yes.” By faint moonlight, she noticed footprints and a wide indentation where it looked as if something heavy had been dragged.

“Looks like
Hubby’s
friends circled around us, and helped themselves to our ride. Not sure why they didn’t just wait for us to show up, but I’m not complaining.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Huh?” He cocked his head.

“Vicente. Don’t refer to him as my husband. And what does any of this mean?” She gestured to the disturbed sand. “You have another plan, right?”

He sighed. “Sure. Assuming we reach that boat before they do.”

HOURS LATER, WHEN Nash no longer heard the shouts of Vicente’s men, he gave himself permission to stop.

Though cloaked in hundred percent humidity and heat, Maisey’s teeth chattered. Shock? From a basic first aid kit he carried in one of many pockets on his black cargo pants, he took a metallic survival wrap. Wouldn’t do as much for her as a nice fire, but at least it’d keep her from losing additional body heat. As for that fire, he couldn’t take the risk of smoke leading Vicente’s men right to them.

“T-thank you,” she managed through her latest violent shiver.

“No problem.” He’d set her at the base of a cypress. Moonlight did nothing to sugarcoat the toll their
adventure
had already taken. For him, what they’d been through was all in a day’s work—physically easier than some of the missions he’d had to endure. For her, with her delicate features dirt-smudged, blond curls laced with leaves and small vines, shoulders sagging in defeat, she wore the dull-eyed mask of hopelessness he’d often seen on refugees.

While his training told him to secure their perimeter with booby traps designed to give a few precious seconds notice in case they were found, he couldn’t in good conscience leave his pregnant friend alone and shivering.

“You gotta relax.” Seated alongside her, he pulled her against him, intent on sharing his warmth. “We’ve got this.”

As if operating on instinct, she snuggled closer. Leaning into him with what little remained of her strength.

For the first time in forever, he felt every inch a protector. Ironic that he was feeling now. It was his inability to feel that had his teammates worried. His friend and business partner, Harding, had forced him to take some time off, told him to get his shit together. The pain of losing his wife and son had been indescribable. So bad that he’d found it best to construct a wall around that part of his life, compartmentalizing it in a corner of his heart that would never again see daylight.

When Maisey stopped shivering, Nash reached into another pocket for a protein bar. “Eat.”

She took it, but asked, “What about you?”

“I’m good. There’s more. Plus, come daylight, I’ll go shopping.”

“Shopping?” She lifted her brows.

“Guess scrounging might be a better word. There’s plenty of food out here. We just have to find it.”

“Please,” holding the bar in front of his mouth, she urged, “you have some, too. I don’t feel right hogging it all for myself.”

To get her off his case, he bit a corner, then pushed it away. “Happy?”

“You always were stubborn.”

True. His tenacity served him well. The only thing he’d ever given up on was his love for this woman.

Having chewed the last bite of her mini-meal, she said, “You told me my mom sent you. How did she know where I was? For her own safety, I begged her to stay out of my business.”

“You and your mom used to be tight. What happened that you wouldn’t ask her for help?”

She took a long time answering. “Vicente. From the first time I mentioned him, her warning bells rang. She had no trouble advising me to stay away.”