Read The Navy's Ghost (Bad Boys of Beta Squad) Online
Authors: Siobhan Muir
Uh
oh. I don’t want to know this.
Chris sealed her lips over her retort about SEALs saving the world for little or no thanks, and focused on placating the whiney woman.
“Today, you’re part of the
world he’s out saving and I know he’s up for the job.” Damn right Bam-Bam would be up for it. Magic and Retro, too.
God, I miss them. I miss them all.
Suck it up, Brickman. Pity is for victims
, and you’ve never been one of those
.
MaryAnn just snorted, but before Chris could respond, the van lurched to a stop.
“Shit! Quick, put your hood back on, Lindsey. MaryAnn, I’m going to hood you again, but keep quiet so they don’t know we’ve been talking.” Chris dropped the hood over the blonde woman’s face as she groaned a protest. “Shhh!”
She scrambled over to
Lindsey and helped her into the burlap sack, mouthing, “sorry.”
Lindsey
grimaced and Chris grabbed her own hood, throwing it over her head as she settled against the van’s wall. The doors opened and she prayed the men wouldn’t notice her hands rested in her lap instead of at the small of her back. Cold, wet air refreshed the stuffiness of the van. Scents of dripping northwestern forests and damp leaf litter hit Chris’s nose and she filed them away.
“Get out.” The
accented masculine voice came from her right and she heard MaryAnn squeal with protest when they grabbed her, but she kept her lips together.
Good job, MaryAnn.
Rough hands grasped Chris’
s ankles and dragged her across the van’s dirty floor. She gritted her teeth against the snarl building up from her gut and allowed them to yank her out of the vehicle.
Someone grumbled about skinny, hard women in Farsi
and someone else laughed. Only the wind in tree branches and Lindsey’s scrambling progress out of the van filled the tense silence.
“Go.” A hand shoved her between the shoulder blades and she staggered forward,
hobbling over sharp gravel. Periodically, her bare feet would hit an oddly shaped paving stone, but her kidnappers shoved her too fast for her to decide what kind.
Chris tried to keep track of the other women, but they stayed quiet and she turned her attention to what little she could sense about their surroundings. When her feet hit mossy concrete, she
scented mold and rusty metal just before the squeak of recently oiled hinges told her they’d entered a building.
At least we’re out of the cold.
Her jersey camisole and yoga pants didn’t offer much protection against the February damp.
A man said something about fixing the hinges and his compatriot said they should make one of the poor infidel women to do it. Both laughed and MaryAnn whimpered, but they said nothing more. The floor beneath Chris’
s feet coated her soles with icy water and she shivered.
Where the hell have they taken us?
A low rumble vibrated through the dank walls and the men’s voices had echoed.
Concrete corridor?
That smelled right. Wet concrete always smelled like dank stone to her and the special scent suffused the air around her.
The men dragged her twice to the right and once to the left before they opened another protesting door and shoved the women inside. Chris managed not to fall, but MaryAnn toppled with a frightened squeal and
Lindsey landed against her with a grunt.
The men said nothing, just retreated from the room and slammed the door shut, leaving the women alone.
Chris reached up and yanked off her hood, looking around.
As she’d guessed, cement walls encased them on all sides. Three arrow-slit windows opened to the air near the ceiling to the left of the door. Black water stains dripped from the ceiling down the gray walls.
The windows opened to the air and the wind whistled past, tendrils of cooler air snaking into their prison. The low rumble vibrated into her knees as she knelt beside Lindsey and pulled off her hood.
“Where are we?”
Lindsey peered up at the dim light from the windows.
“In some sort of concrete bunker in the woods. Smells like the forests up north.”
“How do you know?”
“I grew up on the Olympic Peninsula. I’d know that wet fore
st smell anywhere.”
And how the cold seeps into your bones in the winter.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. A little bruised, but I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Help me with MaryAnn.”
They scrambled over to the other woman and dragged the hood off. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay! I’ve been kidnapped and tied up and gagged. That’s not okay!”
Chri
s mentally added ‘slapped’ to the list, but she only nodded as she chafed her arms to warm up. “Let’s work at getting these zipties off.”
“Do you have a knife or something?”
Lindsey asked, her voice dubious.
“Or something. I have my teeth.”
“Ugh.”
Chris gnawed through her bonds and
calculated their next move.
“Did you hear anything on the radio? Like a city or station name?”
Lindsey shook her head. “I heard the station name. KSRP one-oh-three point eight, but that could be any western radio station.”
Christ grunted as the plastic separated and she snapped her hands apart. “Yeah, but now we have more knowledge than we did. And if we can get a message out, the
squad can narrow the search area down.”
“Are you crazy?” MaryAnn threw them a disdainful pout. “You’re not with the
‘squad’ anymore, Chris. You’re just another victim. There’s no one coming for us because they don’t know where we’ve gone. We have no way of contacting anyone!”
Slapping the blond
e whiner seemed like a better and better idea all the time.
“Not yet, but panicking won’t help either, so just calm do
wn.” Chris glanced at Lindsey’s bound arms. “I’m going to help you get your hands up front here, but it’s probably going to hurt since they’ve been behind you so long. Can you wedge them under your butt?”
Lindsey
nodded and wriggled her hips enough to get her hands under them.
“Okay, lean back and push
your hands forward. Good. Try to get them under your knees.”
Lindsey
groaned a little when her muscles protested movement, but she managed to wedge her wrists under her thighs before she had to stop to breathe.
“Good job. Now lean forward and pull your legs through your hands.”
The former detective worked her legs free and lifted her hands up to Chris triumphantly. A wobbly smile flitted across her dirt-smudged face.
“Nicely done, detective. Do you have the energy to gnaw through the ties?”
“To get my hands free? Hell yes.”
Chris flashed her a grin before turning to the blond
e woman watching them with sullen eyes. “You’re going to have to do the same thing, MaryAnn.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m sure you can. Just give it a try.”
“I can’t move like that.”
“Sure you can. You said you were at the gym. You should be flexible enough.”
MaryAnn’s gaze shifted to the floor. “I don’t know.”
Chris’s patience started to fray, but she took a calming breath.
You get more flies with honey than vinegar
. “Just try to get your hands under your butt. Can you sit on your hands?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.” Chris hoped her voice didn’t sound as much like a snarl as it did to her own ears.
MaryAnn grimaced, but started to wiggle her hands under her butt half-heartedly. Chris wanted to school her like she did the green recruits to BUD/S training, but kept her mouth shut.
She isn’t a recruit and if she wants to get out of her restraints, she’ll do it herself, Brickman. Let it go.
MaryAnn groaned and whimpered for several minutes, but she got her hands under her thighs and pushed them up to her bent knees.
“Good job, MaryAnn. Can you work your legs through your arms like Lindsey did?”
“I can’t.”
Chris took a deep breath to remain calm. “Just make one more try and you’ll be able to work on the zipties with your teeth.”
“My teeth?”
“Yep.”
“But I might chip one.”
Chris clenched her jaw, but managed to shrug. “Then you’ll just have to work with your hands tied.”
She swung away from the whiney woman and glanced over at
Lindsey. The detective studiously worked on her bonds, but Chris swore she saw the corners of Lindsey’s mouth curl upwards.
Retreating to the windows, Chris pushed herself up on her toes and
scanned the world outside. She couldn’t see much beyond large evergreen trees, but a wide, turbulent river thundered nearby over what appeared to be an abandoned spillway. Someone had painted a grinning face reminiscent of old World War II bombers on a crocodilian-shaped rock jutting out over torrent.
Too bad graffiti isn’t tagged in a GPS database.
Lindsey sidled up beside her and stared through the window.
“Nice artwork.” She snorted. “Do you have any idea where we are from what we can see?”
Chris sighed. “No. It could be any river in the northwest. The trees are Douglas firs and red cedars, I think, but other than that, nothing stands out.”
“How are we going to let someone know where we are?”
Chris hated admitting defeat. “I don’t know.”
“There’s nothing, dammit.
They’re fucking ghosts!”
Bam-Bam threw a wad of crumpled paper at the wa
ll, his shoulders tight with fury.
Magic’s lips
flattened and Retro’s stomach cramped as he heard the despair lurking in Greg’s voice. The entire squad had been running for twenty-four hours straight on worry and adrenaline. No one called it fear. They didn’t have time for fear.
What
is the damn line Ghost used to say?
Even just thinking of her words cost him some calm.
Think, dammit. You can’t worry because it doesn’t get the job done.
“Nothing on the monitors at the gates of the base. Nothing from friends or family. It’s all a goddamned blank sheet of paper!”
“Ratchet down, Chief,” Retro said as he stared blankly at his laptop. Irritation wouldn’t solve anything and he needed something, even a glimmer of an idea to relieve the tension.
“Fuck off, Retro! You
r wife isn’t missing.”
“No, not my wife, just my teammate.”
Don’t let the anger take over. You’ll never find the answer.
“And my teammates’ wives.”
Greg growled something incoherent and stomped out of the room.
“I hope he kicks the shit out of a punching bag.” Magic continued researching flight logs of all the nearby airports. He’d found nothing yet, either, but Todd channeled his fear and worry into cold, hard focus. Jim had always admired him for the ability.
He’d only seen
such focus on one other man.
That’s it.
“I got it.
”
“What?” Todd
raised his head, his eyes sharp.
“
Chief Petty Officer Jayson Wolffe,” Jim said, tapping at the keys of his laptop. “The man could find anything. He was a specialist at scouting and he made the rest of us look like bricks. He could find a diamond in gravel and bring back two or three needles from the local haystacks while he was at it.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, he retired from the SEALs a couple years ago. But I heard he moved to Michigan and got married.” Retro’s tension faded a little with the new direction. “Let’s see if his contact info is still on file.”
“You can’t bring a civilian into this.”
“If you got any better ideas, I’m all ears. Besides, he’s a SEAL, retired or otherwise, and he was better than anyone I’ve ever met at finding the impossible.” Retro stared Magic down. “The way I see it, this is as close to impossible as it gets.”
“Fuck.
” Magic turned back to his research.
“
Maybe later if you ask nice enough.”
Todd flipped him off.
Jim found the number, checked the time, and hoped CPO Wolffe would forgive the late-night call as he punched the numbers on his cell.
“How do you know this guy?”
Todd asked, his eyes still scanning the flight records.
“Joint op with Team 3 over
in Chechnya. You and Ghost were following the package from Ukraine to Grozny.” Jim listened to the phone ring.
At the mention of his wife, Todd’s expression hardened and
he studiously ignored Retro. Jim swore at himself for reminding him of the dread coursing through all of them, but he was saved from saying anything when someone picked up.
“Hello?” A soothing female voice just abou
t wiped out all his worries in one word.
“Good evening, ma’am. Sorry to call so late. Would it be possible to speak with Chief Petty Officer Wolffe, please?”
Magic raised an eyebrow at Jim’s mellow tone.
“Was that his rank in the SEALs? Very cool.” The woman laughed and more of Retro’s tension fled. “Yes, just a moment.”
Something about her voice settled his fears and he wondered who the hell Wolffe had married.
Why can’t I find one like that?
His gut cramped and he rubbed his belly.
“This is Wolffe.” Now that voice he recognized.
“Hey, Wolffe, this is Lieutenant Jim Waters from Coronado. I met you a few years ago overseas?”
Silence lasted for two beats of his heart before Wolffe responded. “Yes, sir, I recall. What can I do for you, sir?”
“We have a new problem and we could use your expertise. I can’t brief you over this exposed line, but if you have some time, we’d fly you out here to California on the Navy’s dime to give you the low down.”
“You know I’m retired, right
, sir?”
“Yes
, Chief, we do, but as I recall, you could find anything in impossible situations and we seem to have one right now. You still got that special skill?”
Wolffe paused on the phone. “Yes, sir, I believe I do.”
“We could sure use your help with it.”
“I’ll need to talk it over with my wife. Can you give me something to use as leverage?”
Retro sighed and glanced at Magic. The man’s usually placid expression exuded tension and pent up fury.
“It’s personal to
Bravo Squad this time, Chief. The packages are civilian but uniquely associated with the team.”
Wolffe inhaled sharply. “Okay. I’ll talk to my wife, but I should be out there in less than
twenty-four. Have them expecting me.”
“Text your flight info to this number and we’ll pick you up.”
“Roger that.”
Jim hung up, feeling hopeful for the first time in
twenty-four hours. “He’s coming out.”
“When?”
“Within twenty-four.”
“You sure he’ll be any help?”
“Magic, I might not pull off miracles like you, but this is my best ace in the hole. Orca will get it done.”
“Orca?”
“Yeah, the wolf of the sea.” Retro rose and stretched his shoulders from being hunched. “I’m gonna go brief the commander.”
****
“I should have been nicer to him.”
The whine echoing across the dank, cold space made Chris want to gag the forlorn woman.
MaryAnn’s hands remained bound at the wrists and she’d long since given up on trying to break the zipties. Chris wished the gag still filled her mouth.
“Nicer to whom, MaryAnn?”
Lindsey asked, while Chris inwardly groaned.
Oh, don’t ask her that. You don’t really want to know.
“To Greg.
” MaryAnn sniffed. “If I’d been nicer to him, he’d be coming to get me right now and we could go home.”
Chris resisted the urge to kick the woman.
As if whining is going to help us get out of this. As if Bam-Bam
isn’t
working his ass off with the squad to come for us.
Chris stopped the litany of angry thoughts. They’d get her nowhere and they’d suck up precious energy she needed to stay focused.
Anger is only a distraction. You can wallow in fury later.
“They’re coming for us, MaryAnn,” Lindsey said, her voice calm. “They’d never let this one just go.”
“Maybe not
your
husbands, but Greg isn’t interested in me anymore.” She sniffled and Chris’s molars ground. “He never spends time with me or compliments me.”
No, he’s just out saving the world so you can spend money freely on frivolous shit.
“I’m sure he’s just as worried about you as the rest of the squad is about us.” Lindsey’s voice held compassion.
“No, no, he
doesn’t care. He doesn’t want me—”
“Stop.” Chris rounded on MaryAnn, her hands clenched into fists to keep from strangling
the melodramatic woman. “You can feel sorry for yourself later when we aren’t stuck with you, but right now you need to focus on helping us find a way out of here.”
MaryAnn’
s lower lip trembled, but her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed with anger. “I’m not a SEAL, Chris. And neither are you. We’ll never get out of here.”
As her fury choked her, Chris tried to think of MaryAnn as a really green recruit.
Fucking pathetic green recruit.
“With that attitude, it’ll become the truth. I’d prefer it doesn’t. The squad
is
coming, but we can make an effort to get out of here on our own.”
“
Oh, really, Chris?” MaryAnn fired back. “Do you have any idea how? Do you?”
Chris hadn’t found anything…
yet. Failure is not an option, SEAL. The only easy day was yesterday.
“No,” Chris said. “I’ve spent all my time coddling you. Maybe if you’d stop whining, I could come up with some sort of plan.”
She stopped herself from saying more. Taking her frustration out on MaryAnn wouldn’t help, though it made her feel a little bit better. There had to be some way of getting information out. Too bad their captors wouldn’t let them out to piss on the trees. At least then they could use dogs to find them.
Chris glanced at the nasty bucket they’d all had to use. So much for that idea.
She wracked her mind for something else they could do. Chris cataloged the items they had in their possession. Their clothes, their jewelry, and their wits. Fighting their way through the tangos wasn’t really an option.
Yet
. Chris could do it alone and get away fairly easily, but not with two civilians in tow, and not without weapons.
Maybe with just Lindsey, but not MaryAnn.
Getting out of this bunker was the first m
ove and she suspected the tangos themselves would provide a way. She and Lindsey could overpower one of the bastards and if Chris got her hands on a weapon, they’d have a chance. Her hands itched for the feel of a pistol or rifle. Damn, it’d been too long since she’d held one for real duty.
If she could get them all out of the building, they might have
a fighting chance to alert the squad. She swept the other two women with her gaze and grimaced.
Yeah, if I don’t have to drag MaryAnn screaming over the ground.
Chris couldn’t remember the last time she’d been a victim.
Which is why SEALs are needed—to protect the weak.
She repeated the scenario i
n her mind. Overpower the tangos in the room and use the weapons to silence him and any companions. Lead the women out the door and down the corridor. She was pretty sure she remembered the path they’d taken on the way in.
Two right turns and one left, which means one right turn and two lefts to get out.
The only variables were the number of tangos and how exposed the exit would be once they’d gotten out of the building.
And cameras
, if there are any.
She hadn’t found one in their cell, but she couldn’t be sure how much they’d outfitted the building. It sounded like
dam and an old, abandoned one if the lack of human traffic outside meant anything. But she had no idea how many men held the dam or how far away it sat from a city or town.
Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
Waiting had never been fun, but with Beta Squad, at least it’d been bearable. MaryAnn made it more like Hell Week.
Chris glanced over at Lindsey as the taller woman settled against the wall.
“You okay?” Chris touched her shoulder.
“Yeah, just missing John, that’s all.” She grimaced
as she met Chris’s gaze. “I was shopping for a welcome-home dinner when they jumped me. I even got up early so I could still make my workout and see my sister at lunch.” Lindsey sighed. “She probably went crazy when I didn’t show and didn’t call.”
“You go to the grocery at oh-five-hundred?”
“Only on days when John’s due back. I’m so antsy, I can’t sleep. The grocery store is usually the only thing open that early.”
Chris snorted. “Next time, call me. We’ll do coffee and keep each other company.”
Lindsey chuckled. “Will do.” She rose and stood shoulder to shoulder with Chris. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Chris beat back her wariness. “Sure. What?”
“Did the men, John, Todd, Jim…” She glanced over her shoulder at MaryAnn. “Or Greg ever stray while on deployment when you were with the squad?”
Chris stared out the window for a long time, debating what she could say. Squads were tight and secrets learned remained kept from everyone outside.
“Are you worried about John?”
Lindsey shook her head and lowered her voice. “No, not at all, but I think we could all use some positive thoughts to get us through.” She tipped her head toward MaryAnn.
Chris sighed and nodded. “None of the married men stepped out with anyone while I was with the squad. Both Greg and John either became chaperones for the rest of us or they remained in camp.” Chris gave Lindsey a real smile. “John most often wrote letters to you, I think. It was really sweet and romantic.”
“Did you ever have someone waiting for you to get home, Chris?”
“Nope.”