Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) (43 page)

Goose bumps surface on her skin. It feels like nothing is covering her body.

Her arms and legs fight against a restraining force. She can’t move them.
Is it because I’m not really awake or am I still restrained?
Her mind strives for logical reason, grasping at mere remnants of rational thought through the distortion that fills her brain.

Hearing is the only sense that resonates. Deep voices—familiar voices—surround her, taunt her, and urge fear within her. Fear of the unknown, of what’s about to come

“Turn on the camera.”

“How fucking much did you give her? Jesus, Nico, I said I wanted to fuck her, not fuck a goddamn corpse. She’s practically dead.”

“Oh come on, Mendez. I know you’re curious what that American pussy feels like.”

Laughter. Harsh, deep chuckles fill the room.

Her body trembles.

Hot breath caresses her face as she senses a hovering presence. The smell of sweat and whiskey and cigars permeate her nostrils.

“I’m so fucking ready for this,”
a voice growls into her ear as hands roughly grasp her cheeks.

Her spine goes rigid, nerves prickling in fear.

She fights. Her arms and legs and torso thrash, struggling against the restraints, desperately trying to break free.

A harsh moan escapes her chapped lips after a swift strike is released against her face.

A sweaty hand covers her mouth.

Her teeth sink into his skin.

“Fuck!”

The presence is no longer near.

Lungs heave in desperation. Eyes still struggle to see through the darkness.

“I can’t even get within three feet of her without her fucking biting me! Give her more, you fucking idiot! ”

Another needle. A different vein.

Darkness welcomes oblivion.

THANK GOD HE’S HERE.

I can see him—my Nix.

Sunlight bounces off his golden-brown hair. His cerulean eyes shine with love. He’s looking at me, beckoning me to come towards him. His arms are wide open. The ocean stands behind him, the waves of the sea crashing into the sand.

He smiles. The smile he reserves just for me.

I try to smile back, but my lips refuse to move.

“Meli!” he yells, urging me to go to him.

So I run. I run towards him.

Running—Running—Running—Running—Running.

But I’m not closing the distance between us.

The sun no longer exists.

Darkness consumes his form.

And I’m falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Into the darkness.

Until my love is gone.

LOVE IS WORTH THE RISK
—it’s worth everything.

NIX AND THE SIX OTHER men of Black Mamba Platoon arrive promptly in Pueblo, Mexico, after receiving a call from Senior Chief Franklin six hours ago. They were flown in a matter of hours from their training base in Virginia Beach, where they were preparing for another trip to Al Udeid Air Base, a United States military base west of Doha, Qatar. But their current plans have changed. An assignment came down the pipeline that only a SEAL Team with lightning-quick response could accomplish. Senior Chief Franklin is, hands down, the greatest at his job. He has a knack for finding only the best jobs for his SEAL Teams, missions where he knows they have a real chance at victory. Now, for this new mission they’ll be shipping out for in a matter of hours, every second that ticks away on the clock is one second closer to failure.

And SEALs do not fail.
Ever.

Nix contemplates sending another email to Sloan. He’s desperate to know if she’s okay, but the shitty Wi-Fi on base isn’t making communication possible. He strives to focus on the task at hand but finds himself continuously going back to thoughts of her.

Is she okay?

Her safety is his biggest concern at the moment, and he’s well aware that this is not good. He’s here,
in Mexico
, for a mission where his men need him to be at the top of his game. There is no room for error.

He observes the rest of the guys joking around with each other, the familiar excitement buzzing about the room. The men of Black Mamba are ready. They’ve been ready since their boots stepped foot on American soil a few months ago.

Hell, these SEALs were born ready.

Nix takes a drink from the Styrofoam cup filled with stale, black coffee and shakes the nagging feeling of worry that clenches his gut.

Get your shit together, motherfucker. Meli is fine. She’s strong and she knows what she’s doing.
He attempts another mental pep talk. The same goddamn pep talk he’s been replaying in his head for the past couple of days.

“You all right, Boss?” Julian asks quietly while the rest of the guys continue to chat around them.

Nix gives a small nod in response, his eyes facing the front of the room as Senior Chief Franklin strides in, files and a laptop in hand.

“So glad you boys gave up your beauty rest to pay me a visit,” Senior Chief announces as he sets his laptop up, ready to brief them on their current assignment.

Seven sets of intrigued yet determined eyes are on him, prepared to hear the details of their time-sensitive task. He dims the lights and a PowerPoint appears on the large screen highlighting the small, confined space.

He addresses the room. “We hadn’t planned on shipping you out until a few more weeks, but right now, we need you here. We’ve got a CIA agent who’s been taken hostage inside a known drug lord’s compound and another agent who’s gone completely AWOL.”

Chief begins to explain the pertinent details as he flips to the next slide. A picture of a dark-haired beauty fills the screen, her russet eyes serious, her mouth set in a firm line. “This is CIA Agent L-55. Her real name is Sloan Walker. She’s been with the CIA for over ten years and has obtained intel on some of the world’s worst criminals. She’s been working under the identity of Dr. Felicia Santora, a plastic surgeon who runs a charitable organization called Project Smiles.”

The next slide is another picture of Sloan in all of her physician glory. Her normally curvaceous body is hidden by a pair of light-blue scrubs. She poses with a small group of ecstatic children, a professional smile etched on her flawless face.

Nix’s stomach drops as the worst kind of feeling permeates his gut. Pain points its gun and lands a bullet straight into his chest. The powder of the ammunition ricochets into his veins as his injured heart frantically pumps the crushing realization throughout his body.

Fear. Adrenaline. Anger.
All of it feeding his shattered soul.

Fight-or-flight kicks in and Nix is ready to fight.

And, God damnit, he will fight for her.

His eyes wildly scan the PowerPoint as Senior Chief moves effortlessly through the slides, telling Nix everything he already knew deep down about Sloan. He wishes she would have been the one to tell him, not his fucking superior minutes before he’s due to strap on his combat boots. His reality has now morphed into his worst nightmare.

FUCK.
He silently curses everything as he runs an anxious hand through his hair, desperately trying to maintain his composure. If his superior gets the slightest feeling that something is off with his state of mind, he will dig until he finds out the problem. And Nix is one hundred percent certain he would be pulled off this assignment faster than he would have been yanked from BUD/S if he’d rung the bell three times.

I’m going on this assignment. There is no other option. Get your fucking head on straight,
he thinks to himself. He knows that he’s putting his career on the line by not owning up to his relationship with Sloan, but he doesn’t fucking care. This is the first time in his SEAL career that he is willing to risk everything—his career, his livelihood,
his life
—and he doesn’t give a shit. Being a SEAL doesn’t mean a goddamn thing if Sloan isn’t by his side.

He will give his own life if it means saving her.

Nix takes a deep, cavernous breath and struggles to distance himself emotionally from the fact that Sloan is the reason his Team is about to head into battle.