Authors: Jack Silkstone
TJ and Ernie appeared carrying Rick on a stretcher. Bloodied and battered with a bandaged wound to his thigh he still wore a grin.
“Hey Ali, sorry, I was meaning to call.”
“Hello Richard, how’s the poetry going?”
“You know, hit and miss.” He gave Mike thumbs-up as they loaded him in the ambulance next to Ali.
Mike frowned. “So you failed on purpose?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
The paramedic dabbed at the wound on the back of her head and she flinched. “Because I was angry. I let you into my life, Mike. I got to know you. And, you still wanted to run me through your stupid tests.”
“Ma’am, I need you to lie down. You’ve suffered a concussion,” said the paramedic. “We need to get you to hospital and have it checked out.”
Mike nodded. “It was pretty stupid.”
“Yeah, it was.”
The paramedic grasped her shoulder. “Ma’am.”
“Fine.”
As she lay Mike climbed into the back and Axe jumped in after him.
“Sir, we can’t have a dog in here.”
Mike shrugged. “Sure, but you’re going to have to tell him that.”
The paramedic took one look at Axe’s teeth and relented.
“You guys really like me, don’t you?” Ali grinned.
Mike tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I can’t speak for Axe. But I can say… I’ve fallen for you.”
Chapter Twenty One
Mike
knelt in front of Axe and looked the dog directly in the eye. “Buddy, this is probably going to be our toughest gig ever. Yeah, I won’t lie. It’s going to be brutal. It’s going to be tough. We’ve trained for unconventional warfare. We’ve fought cartels and terrorists. But this is going to take it to the next level.”
Axe cocked his head to one side as if he understood exactly what Mike was saying.
“I know, brother, I’m scared as well. But we've got to do this. I mean come on, you’re a decorated war hero.”
Ali walked into the living area of her sister’s house and stood with her hands on her hips. “Are you boys hiding in here? Come on team. You’ve got thirty screaming preschoolers out there and they want Mike the clown and his circus dog, Axe.”
Mike sighed, rose and adjusted his costume.
“Come here, honey, you’ve smudged your face.” Ali took the theatrical paints from the coffee table and used scarlet to outline his mouth. Then she adjusted his red nose and rainbow-colored wig. “There, now you look the part.”
She glanced down at Axe. The dog was wearing a rainbow colored ruffle around his neck and had tiny bows in his fur. “You look very cute as well, Axe.” She tousled his ears. “Well boys, this is only day two of husband selection, so get out there and charm those princesses.”
“Surely this makes us even?”
“Not even close, lover. Now get rolling.”
Mike grabbed a basket filled with treat bags and walked slowly through the sliding doors, into the backyard, with Axe at his side.
As thirty satin-clad, wand-waving fairy princesses spotted them, their screams hit him like a blast from a sonic weapon. An army of over-excited Disney characters, they descended upon the pair, demanding balloons, magic, and candy.
Mike held them at bay with the treat bags, but Axe wasn’t so lucky. Girls swarmed all over him, pulling his ears and aggressively patting him. The Military Working Dog took it in his stride, sat calmly and looked up at Mike with eyes that said, why?
Deep in the folds of his costume Mike felt his phone vibrate. He fished it from his pocket and checked the screen.
Butcher located-rolling in 30.
He dropped the basket and made a beeline for the house. Safely inside, he stripped off the clown outfit revealing shorts and a T-shirt. His wig was tossed onto the lounge along with the red nose.
“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded Ali from the kitchen where she was enjoying a coffee with Leonie.
“I’ve got a job on.”
“Barbosa?”
He nodded.
“Go get him, honey.”
As he made for the front door he heard the rattle of claws on the wooden floor. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Axe had followed him. The dog sat and tipped his head, his lopsided ear flopping forward.
“You want in, don’t you?”
Axe let out a sharp bark.
“OK, come on.”
“Just remember, the selection process isn’t over,” yelled Ali from the kitchen. “I’m not saying yes till you pass all five stages.”
“Maybe we’ll stay in Mexico, hey Axe,” he mumbled.
“I heard that.” Ali appeared and wrapped her arms around him. “Be safe.”
He kissed her, smearing red paint on her mouth. “I will. Axe has my back.”
“You look after each other.”
“That’s what we do.”
Chapter Twenty Two
“
Cut
-off is in position,” reported TJ as he crouched next to Mike and Axe. The squad had parachuted into an area close to one of the Butcher’s many haciendas. It was still a few hours before dark and they hid in the thick vegetation surrounding the home.
“And intel’s still got him in location?” asked Mike.
“Correct,” reported Ernie. “They’ve got multiple sources confirming his presence.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“A green light from command,” said TJ.
“He’s going to slip away again.”
“No he’s not,” replied Ernie. “We just got our green light. We’re on point. Bravo and Charlie are back-up and we’ve got snipers in position.”
“Mike, you and Axe have lead,” ordered the Chief. “Let’s take him down, for Rick.” The Corpsman was still in hospital.
“For Rick.” Mike stepped out of the bushes with Axe by his side. TJ and Ernie followed, and behind them, the rest of the platoon. He moved quickly across the freshly mowed lawn, his weapon held ready.
Rounds snapped through the air as snipers engaged the guards on sentry around the facility.
Mike made it to the front door and tested the handle. It was unlocked. Pushing it open he slipped inside. “Axe, hunt.”
The dog made a beeline for the staircase to the second level as the rest of the SEALs cleared the ground floor. Mike and his squad followed the dog.
Upstairs, Axe stopped before a doorway, staring intently at it.
Mike sniffed. The scent of tobacco hung thick in the air. Music blared loudly from down the hallway. He waited for TJ to tap him on the shoulder before swinging into the corridor.
Two cartel guards standing ten yards away saw him. They went for their guns. It was the last move they made. TJ and Mike dropped them with silenced shots.
Axe worked his way down the corridor before halting at another doorway. Rock guitar blasted from behind the thick wooden paneling.
“This is it?” asked TJ.
“Yeah. Axe looks pretty excited.”
“OK, let’s do this.”
Mike scowled as he turned the handle of the door and pushed it gently open. The music increased in intensity as he peered through the gap.
The room inside was lavish. Through the haze of smoke he spotted a large bed. A naked woman sat astride an overweight male with her back to him.
Mike smirked, reached out and killed the stereo.
“What the fuck!” Barbosa pushed the girl off him. Sitting up he spotted the two SEALs. “No, no, don’t kill me!” he screamed as he stared wide-eyed at Mike.
At Axe’s low vicious growl, the girl screamed. Wrapping herself in the sheets she stumbled from the bed, leaving the naked cartel boss cowering.
“No, not the
payaso
. Not the
payaso
,” he sobbed. “Not the
payaso
.”
“Cover me,” TJ grunted. Lowering his weapon, he flipped the naked man onto his stomach and flexi-cuffed his hands behind his back. “Find something to cover this turd.”
Mike tossed him a robe from the back of the door.
They escorted the cartel kingpin to the front lawn where Commander Conner waited with a Blackhawk helicopter. He greeted them with a broad smile. “Job well done, guys.” He frowned at Mike. “You come straight from a party or something?”
“Yes, sir. A kid’s birthday party.” He frowned. “How did you know that?”
The Commander winked and gave the dog a nod. “Good to see Axe back in the field.”
The loadmaster grabbed the senior officer by the shoulder, informing him that prisoner had been loaded.
“OK boys, we need to get this guy to the FBI. I’ll see you back at the strand.”
The Blackhawk powered into the sky leaving them to wait for their own ride.
Mike turned to Ernie. “What’s a
payaso
?”
“A clown.”
“Why would the Butcher scream that when we captured him?”
TJ and Ernie stared at him with raised eyebrows.
“Have you seen your face, Bobo?” grunted TJ.
Ernie handed him his smart phone with the camera flipped. “Who knew the butcher is afraid of clowns.”
Mike glanced at the screen and saw that he was still wearing most of the stage makeup that Ali had applied. “You guys could have said something.”
A Blackhawk thundered into view and flared onto the lawn.
“Where’s the fun in that?” yelled TJ as they climbed onboard. “Plus, Ali scares the crap out of us and we promised her we wouldn’t interfere with the selection process.”
Mike shook his head as he secured Axe’s harness to a strap. “You do know that you guys got me into this mess.”
TJ gave him thumbs-up. “Yep, but goddamn it’s been worth it.”
As they lifted off, Mike reached down and ruffled Axe’s ears. “Yeah, I guess it has.”
The dog rested his head on his thigh.
Mike sighed. “I can’t wait to see what Ali’s got lined up for us next.”
AUTHOR’S FINAL WORDS
I hope you’ve enjoyed my first hit out in the romance genre. Yeah, it has a bit of action in it, but hey, you got to stick with what you’re good at. If you enjoyed the book, in particular the action bits, then you might want to check out some of my other work. I’ve included the first few chapters of PRIMAL Origin below. If you like it, you can grab it
here
. It’s the first in a ten book series.
Thanks again for reading my work. Feel free to reach out to me any time, it’s always great to hear from readers. For those of you who enjoyed SEAL of Approval and want more of Mike, Ali, Axe and the rest of the team, flick me an
email
and let me know. I’ve got to balance it with writing the next action thriller, but if enough of you ask, I’ve got a plan for the next book: Signed SEAL’d & Delivered.
If you want to join my
mailing list
, I’ll let you know when I release more books including the next in the SEAL series.
JS
EXCERPT FROM PRIMAL ORIGIN
CHAPTER 1
ABU DHABI, 2004
The US Embassy in Abu Dhabi didn’t impress Vance. Like so many other buildings in the Emirates, it was a monstrosity of steel and glass, chilled to almost arctic temperatures by an army of air conditioners. A
CIA
paramilitary officer, the solidly built African American wasn’t bothered by the heat of the Arabian Gulf. He’d been in the country for over a month and was fully acclimatized. So much so, he was shivering as he waited for an audience with the ambassador.
“They always have it up too high,” the secretary said.
Vance attempted a smile. “Yeah, it keeps the penguins working.”
The pretty blonde laughed and returned her attention to her computer.
He scanned the room again. It was lavishly furnished, some new vogue designer’s attempt to give it some warmth. The marble floor was laid with ornamental Persian rugs. Expensive paintings graced the walls on either side of a pair of solid mahogany doors that barred entry into the ambassador’s office. It was nothing like the rough compound he’d called home for the past five weeks.
Vance and his offsider, a former Marine known as Ice, were working with a World Health Organization team in an industrial sector of the desert city. They had established a health clinic to support thousands of the city’s impoverished workers. In a US Government–sponsored initiative, the team was currently checking for any signs of a superflu pandemic.
From Vance’s perspective, the WHO team was providing cover for the CIA to track down a terrorist group. In the last month, a spate of suicide attacks had rocked the Gulf States, targeting Western expatriates and government officials. CIA analysts had assessed that the attacks were linked to the recent US invasion of Iraq. However, one of the suicide bombers had been identified as Bangladeshi, recruited from the UAE’s immigrant workforce.
Vance and Ice had been sent to Abu Dhabi to track down the recruiters and follow the link back to the terrorist command structure. So far the few leads they’d uncovered had been dead ends. Despite this, Vance’s experience and gut instinct told him they were hunting in the right place.
A buzzer sounded on the secretary’s desk. “Sir, the ambassador will see you now.” She rose and walked across to open the solid wooden doors.
Vance extracted his muscular frame from the sofa and followed her into the ambassador’s office. The opulence of the waiting area was magnified tenfold in the huge room. Tall, blast-proof, tinted windows reduced the sun’s glare but allowed a sweeping view of the malls, hotels, and high-rises that had sprouted from the oil-rich sands of Abu Dhabi. This was the office of a man at home with wealth and power.
Howard D. Beecroft sat behind his antique desk and examined Vance with a critical eye. He noted with scorn the dusty boots, grubby khaki cargo pants, and faded blue shirt. His gaze lingered on the weathered features of the CIA veteran.
“So this is the renegade running black ops in my Emirates,” Beecroft said.
“I’m sorry: black ops?” Vance returned the scornful gaze, equally unimpressed with the bureaucrat.
Beecroft sported a portly frame and ruddy complexion, the result of years on the cocktail circuit. “Yes, the CIA didn’t seek my approval for your little mission.” His chins wobbled as he spoke.
“Last time I checked, the CIA didn’t work for the State Department.”
Beecroft tipped back in his soft leather chair. His belly strained against a tailored waistcoat under a dark blue suit. Vance almost expected to see a gold chain disappearing into the vest pocket.
“I don’t think you understand, Mr….” The ambassador paused, unable to recall Vance’s surname. “I don’t think you understand just how important the Emirates is to America. The lifeblood of our nation flows through this relationship and it is my job to ensure that nothing damages that. That no obstacles block the flow. Obstacles like you.”
Vance brow furrowed. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand the situation. But what I don’t get is how a discreet CIA operation could be considered an obstacle.”
“Discreet? Is that what you think your little mission is?” Beecroft selected a manila folder from a pile on his desk. “If it is so discreet, then explain to me why the head of the Special Tasks Branch is sending me reports warning that you are, in fact, the next target for the very terrorists you’re supposed to be hunting?”
He threw the folder on the desk. “Your operation has the potential to severely embarrass my standing with the Emir. I can only hope that he isn’t aware of your activities already.”
Vance stepped forward to pick up the folder. It contained a single-page police report. He skimmed it and dropped it back on the desk. “How the hell did they find out we’re here?”
“Evidently your World Health Organization cover isn’t as good as you think.”
“I call bullshit on that, Mr. Ambassador.”
“How it happened doesn’t matter.” Beecroft waved his finger as he spoke. “The simple fact is you’ve been compromised and now you’re out. I’m sure you can hunt terrorists in Iraq or Afghanistan. My aide has arranged tickets for you and the—”
“Get the WHO team out, but I’m staying.”
Beecroft pushed back his chair and struggled to remove his corpulent frame from its clutches. He finally got to his feet, drawing himself up to his full five feet nine inches. “You will do no such thing. This is my post and I will—”
“You will sit the fuck down, Ambassador!” Vance growled from a height advantage of almost six inches.
Beecroft shrunk like a deflated balloon, dropping back into his chair.
“The only way we could have been compromised is through this office.”
The ambassador opened his mouth to object but Vance cut him off again. “Now. You’re probably not harboring Bin Laden and co, so my guess is you blabbed to one of your buddies at poker.”
Beecroft opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it.
“Now usually I would get very, very upset about that, but this time I’m gonna let it slide. What I won’t be doing is getting on any airplane.”
The ambassador’s face turned a brighter shade of red. “You will get on that plane. Otherwise I will submit a report to Washington.”
Vance smiled. “You go right ahead and do that, Mr. Ambassador. By the time your report gets read and someone takes notice, my job here will be done. So you just get back to protecting the flow of oil and I’ll get back to tracking down our nation’s enemies.” He turned and walked toward the door.
“This will be the end of you, Vance. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Take your best shot, Mr. Ambassador. Better men have tried.”
***
Ice was waiting in the parking lot when Vance exited the building. He wore similar clothes to the senior CIA operative: tan cargo pants and a loose-fitting shirt. The former recon Marine was chatting with a member of the Embassy’s Marine security detail. The guard was a big man, at least six feet, but the paramilitary operative towered over him. With short blond hair, a square jaw, and the build of an NFL quarterback, Ice was a formidable-looking individual.
Spotting Vance, he shook hands with the Marine and walked back to their Toyota Land Cruiser, starting the engine.
Neither man said a word as Ice drove them from the embassy, until the battered four-wheel drive had merged into Abu Dhabi’s hectic traffic.
“Where’re we heading, boss?” Ice asked.
“Find a place to park. I need to make a few calls.”
“That bad?”
“Yes and no.” Vance gave him a rundown on the conversation with the ambassador. “If the police report is accurate, we’ve been compromised and now the hunter has become the hunted,” he concluded.
“There’s more good in this than bad,” Ice said after a moment.
“How's that, big man?”
“The way I see it, the ambassador’s done us a favor. Now we know for sure that this terrorist group has links to the Emirates government. We just need to flush them out.”
Vance looked sideways. “Ice, you’re nuts. I tell you a bunch of jihadist douche bags are gonna try and blow us to hell and you think it’s a good thing.” He shook his head and laughed.
The corner of Ice’s mouth turned up in a slight smile. His eyes never left the packed highway.
Vance continued. “Only problem is that pompous cocksucker has given us the boot. It won’t take Langley long to follow that up and shit-can us.”
“Means we need to move fast.”
“Yep. First things first, we get the Doc and his crew out.” Vance pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contacts, looking for the physician in charge of the WHO team. “After that I’ll arrange a meeting with Tariq and find out how Special Tasks were alerted to the attack. You check if the gear has arrived.”
Ice pulled into the parking lot of one of Abu Dhabi’s shopping malls and slotted the four-wheel drive into a free spot. Vance was already talking to the head of the WHO team. Ice jumped out of the vehicle and dialed the FedEx Custom Critical depot to check if the extra equipment he’d ordered from Langley had arrived. With a direct threat to the team, he’d be happier packing a little extra heat.