The Navy's Ghost (Bad Boys of Beta Squad) (21 page)

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Fear howled at the edges of Chris’s awareness ever since she’d been overpowered and trussed up like a calf for branding, but with her consciousness came calm. She didn’t know where she was or who had her, but she could smell incense and curry, and some sort of cooked meat. Sounds of leather squeaking and the rattle of automatic weaponry told her she wasn’t dealing with joyriding punks. The hood over her head scratched like burlap and smelled of rancid vegetables, but the cords around her wrists cut her skin like zipties.

Chris shivered as someone hustled her across a wet open space
, the puddles soaking her bare feet. The hiss of tires on wet concrete reached her ears just as her captors hoisted her into a vehicle. Cold, damp metal barren of upholstery echoed with her entrance, but she landed on her butt against something warm that whimpered in surprised pain.

They got someone else. Sounds like she’s gagged.

Fury burned in Chris’s chest and she tightened her hands into fists, but the doors to the vehicle slammed shut and orders to move came in Farsi. The van lurched into motion and Chris lost her balance against the other woman, who squeaked in panic.

Chris wanted to tell her it would be okay, but she didn’t believe
it at the moment and she needed more intel before she hauled off making promises. Chris leaned back against the metal wall of the vehicle and assessed her own situation.
First thing, I need this damn hood off.

Wriggling, Chris wedged her hands under her butt and worked them toward her thighs, trying to bump as little as possible to alert her kidnappers. The van bounced over an uneven road and she banged her shoulders a few times as she moved her body through the loop of her hands.
Her shoulders complained with the pull, but her yoga pants allowed her to slide easier than if she wore jeans. Stale, warm air filled her hood, but the outer wall behind her had grown cold and clammy.

We must be s
ome place on the coast, I bet. Plenty of humidity. They haven’t moved us inland
.

When her wrists lodged under her knees, the van hit a bump and swerved a little, knocking Chris over onto her face. She turned her head to keep from
breaking her nose and worked one leg then the other out of her looped arms. She spat dirty cloth when she pushed herself up and yanked the hood off her head.

It took several moments for her eyes
to catch any light in the dark interior. Chris listened for the men driving the van, but they’d turned on the radio to a Spanish news station talking about the Mexican soccer team in the World Cup standings. The hood slipped off her shoulder to the floor and she scrubbed her bound hands over her face to relieve the itch from the burlap.

T
wo other people slumped in the back of a cargo van, both with hoods over their heads. Given their clothes and the hair trailing from beneath the hoods, she suspected they were women. The one closest to her trembled and whimpered, terror pouring off her in waves.

The other woman sat still and silent, but her posture suggested
awareness. Chris turned her gaze toward the front of the van. A small window in the privacy wall allowed light and sound into the back. With the radio blaring, she doubted the men could hear them if they whispered.

Keeping one eye on the men beyond the little window, Chris stretched out one foot and nudged t
he leg of the silent woman.

“Are you all right?” she hissed when her companion jerked.

The hooded woman dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“Did they hurt you at all?”

“No.”

Relief tripped through Chris’
s skull. They hadn’t gagged her.

“My name’s Chris. What’s yours?”

“Lindsey.”

“Where did they take you from,
Lindsey?”

“Grocery store parking lot near Coronado. You?”

“Out of my bed near the base.” Chris went through her memories. “They must have disabled the alarm. You said you were from Coronado?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who else they grabbed?”

“No. She was screaming when they got her, so they gagged her and hooded her. I didn’t
get a chance to ask her name. It seemed wiser to keep my mouth shut.”

“How soon after they got you did they get her?”

Silence met her question as Lindsey digested her words. “No more than twenty minutes, why?”

“She’s probably from around
Coronado then, too. Did you hear your kidnappers say anything?”

“Not in English except directions to get in the van and shut up.”

Chris licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one in thought. “How long after that did they bring me?”

“I don’t know,”
Lindsey whispered as the van bounced against a pothole. “But it wasn’t the same guys from the voices I heard. I think another team got you. They loaded us all into the van and drove to an airport, but I don’t know which one. I could hear and smell the jet engines. They shoved us on a plane and strapped us in. That’s when they brought you.”

“
Huh. So we could be anywhere.”

“Yes.”

Fuck.

Chris
ran through her memories. She’d been asleep when they broke in and there’d been too many of them for her to shake them off. She’d grabbed her Glock and nailed someone with it, but they’d subdued her before she could fire it, and knocked her out with something on a rag. That was her last memory until they marched her to the van.

Dammit, the
Beta Squad had been out on a training exercise for the last week and hadn’t been due back until evening of the day they’d grabbed her. Magic wouldn’t have any idea where she’d gone and she had no way to tell him.

Despair threatened to overwhelm her and drag her down. No cell phone, no idea where they were, no way to contact the
squad, and unarmed. She was on her own with the other captives, and if she’d been stronger or had listened to her gut instinct telling her someone had been watching her, they might have a better chance of getting away.

Fear is the
mind killer. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the mind killer
.

Repeating
the old mantra helped rein in her panic and Chris settled back into the deadly calm she’d experienced when on an op. She closed her eyes and let her breathing slow as her mind cranked over possibilities.

First things first. I have to get my hands free and build a rapport with the other captives.

That sounded like a plan. She refused to think beyond it for the moment. Communication with the outside world would have to wait. Moving carefully, she crawled over to her hooded companion and pulled off the burlap encasing her head.

Recognition made bile rise in her throat.

“Lindsey Andrews?”

“Oh, God,
Chris. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know
.”
Fucking hell
. “What do you want to bet that’s MaryAnn Killian?”

Lindsey
shook her head, her short, dark hair swishing around her ears. “No bet.”

Chri
s scanned their gagged and hooded compatriot and tried to match her memory by body shape and clothing choice. Everything about the woman suggested high maintenance and feminine tastes.
Definitely MaryAnn Killian.
She doubted Greg’s wife ever went anywhere without makeup and perfume.

Chris crawled over to the silent prisoner and carefully lifted off the hood. Blond
e curls flopped out from under the burlap and shrouded a dainty face covered in smeared makeup. Trails of mascara painted watercolor lines down her cheeks below wide, frightened blue eyes.

“Easy,” Chris whispered. “It’s me, MaryAnn. Chris Hunter. Are you hurt?”

MaryAnn’s eyes darted around the darkened van, looking for an escape. She whimpered and writhed against her bonds, but Chris grasped her arms and squeezed gently.

“MaryAnn, are you hurt?”

She shook her head and more tears flowed.

“I’m going to take the gag off you, but you have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

MaryAnn nodded.

The gag had gotten tangled in her hair, but Chris got it
loose, yanking out a few blonde strands as she pulled it away. MaryAnn squealed and licked her lips, trying to ease the raw edges of her mouth.

With MaryAnn’s add
ition, three wives of the Beta Squad had been kidnapped by men who spoke Farsi.
Not to profile, but I’d say we’ve been abducted by Middle Eastern terrorists. And they seem to know enough about the squad to grab the wives.
Chris tried to think how tangos could find out anything about them and recalled her itching shoulder blades.
Shit, they’ve been watching me since Magic proposed.
She wished she had her Glock.

Don’t worry about i
t right now, Brickman. Figure out a way to get these ladies out of here in one piece.

“What’s happening to us?” MaryAnn croaked. She pulled against the zipties, but gave up when she couldn’t get loose.

“We’ve been kidnapped.” Chris held up her hands to keep MaryAnn from wailing at the news. “I don’t know why or by whom yet, and I don’t know where we’re going, but I take it as a good thing they haven’t shot us or…done anything other than tie us up.”

“Can you understand what they’re saying?”
Lindsey jerked her head toward the cab of the van.

“Yeah, a little.” While languages hadn’t been her specialty, Chris had learned Far
si well enough to speak it. Whittleton had said the women in the villages where they’d conducted ops only shared news and gossip with other women. Chris had fit the bill.

Thanks,
Whistler. I owe you.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing other than to move out. But it’s only a matter of time before they talk in front of us. I suspect they figure we’re just dumb American women who have less value than their own women.”
Mostly because we’re not virgins
.

“How are we going to get out of here?” MaryAnn whispered.

“I’m working on it.” Chris rolled onto her ass as the van hit another bump. “First things first. We have to keep calm and play the game their way for a short time. We need intel and then we can find a way to get the word out. Mainly, we have to stay calm.”

Mary
Ann swung her head side-to-side. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening to me. I’m supposed to be safe. I’m married to a SEAL, for God’s sake. How could this happen? I’m supposed to be safe!”

Her voice had risen with each succeeding sentence and Chris finally put her hands over her mouth.

“Quiet!” Chris glanced up at the little window to the cab, but the Spanish news station drowned them out. “Keep your voice down. If you can’t, I’ll put the gag back on. Do you understand?”

MaryAnn’s eyes widened with betrayal, but she nodded.

“Good. Now listen up. We’ll be able to get out of here, but only if we work as a team. Lindsey, you were a cop, weren’t you?”

Lindsey
dipped her chin. “Undercover until I made detective.”

“
Nice.” Chris wanted to ask why she’d quit, but stories would have to wait for a better time. “I need you to listen to the radio. See if you can figure out where we are based on what they’re saying. Can you speak Spanish?”

“
Por su puesto
.”

“
Excelente. Escuche a la radio, por favor
.”

“If you can speak Spanish, why do you need her to listen to the radio?”

Chris fixed MaryAnn with a hard look. “Because her Spanish is probably better than mine and I’ll be listening to the kidnappers for clues to who has taken us and how they knew who we were.” She rubbed her jaw with her knuckles in thought. “Can you think of where you were when they got you?”

MaryAnn huffed a sob and her eyes shifted away. “I went to the gym and they grabbed me before I could get into my car.”

Something about her answer didn’t ring true to Chris, but she didn’t push.
Stories can wait
.

“I screamed and screamed, but no one heard me. Then they gagged me and covered my head.”

Chris tried to calculate how long it had taken the kidnappers to capture all of them.
They must have been watching us for a while and figured out our schedules.
It’d never occurred to her to worry about her schedule before, but now she grimaced.
SEALs don’t have a schedule, Brickman. That’s why they can do what they do. I’ll have to remedy that.

“Just keep calm and we’ll figure a way out of this. I’m sure your husband will come for you as soon as he knows you’re gone. He’s probably on his way now.”

MaryAnn snorted with heavy derision. “My husband is the whole reason I’m in this mess, isn’t he? It’s because he’s a SEAL and deals with those horrible people from Iran or Iraq or wherever. He’s always gone, saving the world, but he can’t spend much time with me.”