SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (129 page)

Pointing to a different position in the rugged hills, Gator said, “And this is another building they’ve identified. Trucks from the factory move at night to this location. It is also the location to which they’ve tracked Umar.”

Irish glanced from Gator to Colonel Mathis. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Colonel Mathis tapped the screen over the building in the hills. “That also happens to be the location of Prince Yohannis’s country palace, the favored son of the most powerful figure in Ethiopia and one of our allies in the region. He’s a Harvard-educated chemical engineer with connections to some of the richest Saudi family members.”

“In other words,” Irish said, “we go in there, and we stir up an international incident.”

“Exactly.” Colonel Mathis paced the floor. “I’m usually a man who believes in playing by the rules. But if Yohannis is in cahoots with Umar, then we have a problem that will take more than diplomacy to resolve.” He stared at the men in the room. “If you get my drift.”

Irish’s eyes narrowed. “I have a feeling a few Navy SEALs are going rogue tonight.”

The colonel’s lips curled into a wry twist. “Can’t imagine that ever happens. Nor can I imagine the guard falling asleep on duty on the flight line where the 160
^th
Night Stalkers keep a couple Black Hawks at the ready.”

“And if we’re caught, we’re on our own,” Gator finished.

Irish stared at the LT. “Sorry, old man, but you’re grounded.”

“It’s just a nick,” Gator protested.

“Can’t have you slowing us down,” Irish argued with a shake of his head.

“Now, I’m just stepping out of the room to ensure I don’t hear a thing about any kind of defiant behavior among members of the Joint Special Operations Command.” Mathis paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Keep the casualties to a minimum, but take out Umar once and for all.”

Irish gave the commander a salute. “Yes, sir.”

The colonel opened the door, and half of the team fell inside. The C.O. chuckled. “I think these might belong to you.”

Big Bird, Dustman, Fish, Nacho and others poured through the door into the room and dropped into the chairs positioned around the conference table.

“Dr. Boyette, you might want to check in with the medical clinic and see how they are coming with the results on those samples,” Tuck suggested.

Claire stood tall, her jaw set. “I want to stay and hear how we’re getting into Yohannis’s compound.”

Tuck was already shaking his head. “Not
we
. You won’t be going with the team, ma’am.”

She frowned. “Why not? I know what Dr. Jamo looks like.”

Irish nodded. “So do I. But this will be a military exercise. It’ll be dangerous and you don’t belong in the middle.”

“What if someone is injured?” she argued. “I could act as the team medic.”

“I’m sorry, Claire.” Irish took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “We travel light and fast. Having a female among us will distract us from our mission.”

“I can help,” she insisted.

“A lot of people here need your assistance. No use taking a bullet in hostile territory, depriving others of your healing touch.”

Claire bit down on her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing.

Damn, she was sexy when she was angry. But under no circumstances would they take her with them. She would be a liability and make them lose focus on the mission. “Darlin’, you can’t go with us.”

She nodded, her lips firming into a tight line. “I see.”

Irish could tell she didn’t see at all. If the stubborn tilt of her chin was any indication, she wasn’t finished arguing, only waiting to get him alone to press her point.

“Dr. Boyette, you’ll have to leave.” Gator nodded toward the door. “We have work to do in order to get in to extract Dr. Jamo.”

And neutralize Umar
, Irish added silently.

“I’ll stop by to see you after we’re done here,” Irish promised.

She gave him a tight smile. “I wouldn’t dream of distracting you.” Claire spun on her heels and left the room, closing the door behind her with a loud click.

“Sorry, Irish.” Gator said. “You know as well as I do she would be in the way.”

He sighed. “I know.” Irish clapped his hands together. “Let’s bring down Umar.”

Claire really did
understand why she’d been excluded from the operation planning. She didn’t have the training and would be more of a liability than an asset. Still, she wanted to be there for Dr. Jamo. But not at the expense of SEAL lives.

She sighed and walked back toward the clinic, curious about the courier and the role he played in the murder of the remote villagers.

The white truck stood where she’d originally found it, parked beside the clinic. At first, she didn’t see the driver until he straightened at the tailgate.

Claire swung wide, noting that he’d shoved a box beneath a tarp in the bed of the truck.

The courier had his back to her, a cell phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear. As he turned, he caught sight of her, his dark eyes narrowing, his gaze following her as she angled toward the clinic’s front door.

A trickle of alarm dribbled down her spine. Claire hurried into the clinic and stood beside a window, staring out at the driver.

“May I help you?” asked the cheerful army female behind the counter.

“No, thank you.” Claire shot a quick smile her way. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“I don’t blame you. The AC is nice in here.”

Claire didn’t respond, her gaze on the man standing outside the window in the alley between buildings.

He finished his conversation and walked away, leaving his truck unattended.

Her heart leaping into her throat, Claire opened the door to the clinic and peered out. She didn’t see the courier anywhere. If she wanted to find out more about the box in the back of the truck, now was her chance.

“Have a nice day,” the female soldier called out behind her.

Glancing right and left, she exited the building and hurried to the back of the vehicle and lifted the tarp. The box was made of hard plastic and had latches on the front. She flipped them loose and opened the box. Inside were vials of blood, packed in foam. The case was insulated from the heat. Nothing about the samples raised any alarm bells. As she closed the case and secured the latches, she wondered what she’d hoped to find.

The rattle of gravel warned her she wasn’t alone. But before she could turn to face the man behind her, she felt a hand slam into her back, and she was thrown forward, banging her head against the hard plastic box. Stars swam before her eyes. When she tried to straighten, she felt a sharp prick of pain in her shoulder. Arms came around her body, clamping hers to her sides. She fought but she was no match for the superior strength of her opponent, and her muscles weren’t cooperating.

Claire opened her mouth to scream. No sound passed her lips. The bright Djibouti sun snuffed out.

An hour later,
Irish excused himself from the planning, his mind on Claire instead of the dangerous insurgency they planned. She’d left the room appearing to be angry at the way Tuck brushed her off. He couldn’t blame her. At the same time, he hoped she’d get over it quickly, and they could pick up where they’d left off early that morning. The night ahead promised to be difficult and extremely dangerous. If they slipped up even a little, their weaknesses would be used by Umar to his advantage. The same way they felt about Umar, he’d feel about them. No prisoners would be taken. Umar would kill every last one of the SEALs if he had his way.

Their team’s job was to see that didn’t happen.

Irish headed for Claire’s quarters, jogging in the heat to get there. She had to be champing at the bit to find out how things went in the briefing session. Not that he could give her specifics about the operation. Secrecy was vital to surprising the enemy.

One knock on her door resulted in no response. After the third knock, he grabbed the handle and twisted.

The door opened and a quick peek inside proved she wasn’t there.

His stomach roiled, but Irish told himself not to worry. She was probably in the mess hall, getting lunch or a drink. With the desert sun beating down on him, he ran to the mess hall and burst through the door.

At a little past noon, the dining hall was teeming with soldiers, marines, sailors and air force personnel in PT gear or every pattern of desert camouflage. Irish searched for a blond-haired civilian among the military personnel.

“Looking for the pretty doctor?” Tuck stepped up behind him with the rest of the crew.

“Yeah. She wasn’t in her quarters.”

The group spent a couple minutes searching the sea of faces.

“I don’t see her,” Big Bird said.

“Neither do I,” Tuck added.

The longer Irish looked, the worse he felt about the situation.

“You think she might have gone to the Post Exchange for clothes and toothpaste?”

“Maybe.” Irish prayed that was where she’d gone. This post was bigger than some. Nevertheless, it shouldn’t take long to find her.

“I hope I didn’t piss her off too much by asking her to leave.” Tuck clapped a hand on Irish’s back. “Surely, she’ll get over it.”

“She’s an adult, I doubt she’d take offense to being excluded from an operational planning session.” At least Irish hoped she hadn’t taken offense. He knew how much she cared about Dr. Jamo. She only wanted to see him rescued and freed from the clutches of a ruthless terrorist.

“I’ll go check the Exchange,” Tuck offered.

“I’ll run by the shower facility,” Dustman offered.

“Yeah, right.” Swede laughed.

“I won’t go in. I’ll just stand outside and ask if anyone inside saw her.” Dustman winked.

“I’m running back by the clinic,” Irish said. “Being a doctor, she might have gone to check on the samples the courier had tested.”

Tuck glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Meet back at my quarters in five minutes.”

Every man looked at his watch, nodded and took off.

Irish arrived at the clinic a minute later, having run the entire way. The white pickup was gone, and no one hung around outside in the heat. He opened the door and went inside.

“May I help you?” a female army private first class asked from behind the counter.

“Did a blonde come in here about an hour ago? She would have been wearing a dark T-shirt and blue scrubs.”

The female tipped her head, touching her finger to her chin. “An hour ago, you say?”

Irish nodded.

The woman smiled. “Yes. She said she was waiting on someone.”

“Did you see where she went when she left?”

“Not really. Maybe to the right, around the side of the building. I thought I saw someone out there through the window.” The young woman gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Irish stepped outside and shaded his eyes to the sun. The right would have taken her to the pharmaceutical truck, if it had still been there. Holy hell, surely she didn’t try to accost the courier? He hurried back to Tuck’s quarters. All his worry would be for naught. One of the guys had to have located her at the Exchange.

Irish made it back to Tuck’s place first. Even Tuck hadn’t returned so he waited outside his quarters, pacing.

“Not at the Exchange,” Tuck said behind Irish.

Dustman jogged up. “Dr. Boyette wasn’t at the shower facility. I had a really hot lieutenant check to make sure.”

Shoving a hand through his hair, Irish walked to the end of the row of housing containers and back. “Where would she be? Camp Lemonnier isn’t that big.”

“Do you think she left to find Dr. Jamo on her own?”

“How? She didn’t have transportation to get there?”

“Could she have hitched a ride?” Tuck asked, his voice low, intense.

A lead weight settled in Irish’s belly. “You mean with the courier?”

“We wouldn’t let her go with us,” Tuck said, shaking his head. “What would stop her from finding her own way out to where they could potentially have taken the Somali doctor?”

“Guys, we have to prepare for the mission tonight,” Nacho said. “We’ll keep our eyes open for her return.”

“I’ll show up in time to pack my gear. Until then, I’ll be turning over every damned rock in this camp to find Claire.”

Everyone took off to gather his gear, except Swede. “Sorry about the doc. I hope you find her before we shove off.” Then he gave Irish a hand-held electronic device. “In case she hitched a ride with the courier, you might want to keep this on you. Maybe he’s headed to the same place we are.” The big blond man pointed at a blinking dot on the screen. “He’s already about sixty clicks from here and moving fast.”

“Too fast to catch him?” Irish asked, his grip tightening on the device.

“Probably. Unless you could commandeer a helicopter to intercept.”

The thought had crossed his mind, but the plan was to commandeer military aircraft for the unsanctioned mission that night. They could be in a whole lot of trouble for that if things didn’t go well.

Irish drew in a deep breath and tamped down the urge to grab a vehicle and race after the courier. “I’ll keep looking for her here.”

“She’ll turn up,” Swede reassured him.

Irish sure as hell hoped she did. The alternative could get ugly.

‡