Protecting the Future (SEAL of Protection Book 8) (8 page)

W
olf
, Abe, Cookie, Mozart, Dude, Benny, and the six members of the other SEAL team, Rocco, Gumby, Ace, Ho Chi Mien, Bubba, and Rex, huddled around the map. Wolf explained the extraction plan for the third time, making sure everyone knew exactly where they were supposed to be and when.

The plan was for Rex and his team to cause a distraction near the area where Penelope was being held, but not close enough to cause suspicion. Wolf’s team would move in, under the cover of darkness and ensuing chaos. Dude and Cookie would enter through the back of the tent and extract the sergeant. After they extracted her, Wolf and Benny would lead the way and Abe and Mozart would take up the rear.

They’d contacted the JSOC and the plan was for the Night Stalkers, the Army’s elite helicopter crew, to swoop in on the other side of the camp and pick them up. They’d fly the two hundred miles east to the Special Forces base at Yuksekova, and there Penelope would be seen by a doctor. They’d all be flown to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, where she could be examined more thoroughly by the base’s medical team, and then they’d all head home.

After Wolf’s group was safely away with Penelope, the Virginia SEAL team would slip back to their command tent and hike north away from the camp, and be picked up by another Night Stalker team.

The entire operation should take no more than thirty minutes to extract Penelope, two hours to fly to the Special Forces Base, and they should be home within thirty six hours after that.

Of course, they’d all learned that the only sure thing in a mission was that something could go wrong, and the only easy day was yesterday, so they had a Plan B and a Plan C.

The first thing that was most obviously wrong before they even set out to rescue Sergeant Turner was that the batteries in their radios were dying. The hell of it was, they couldn’t do anything about it. Batteries died. Period. It wasn’t feasible to carry a pocket full of replacement batteries on a mission, and anyway, the ones in the radios were rechargeable. They’d each brought an extra pack, but with the increased usage of the electronics at the camp during their patrols and searches, those had also been exhausted.

Without any electricity they hadn’t been able to charge them back up, and even if they’d known they’d be out of pocket for as long as they had been, there wouldn’t have been anything they could’ve done to prevent the batteries from dying. Rex had given Dude one of their radios, since their batteries were a week newer than Wolf’s team, but they were seriously screwed if something major happened. They’d be cut off from all communications with each other
and
the Joint Special Operations Command.

After the debrief, Wolf and the rest of his team were sitting around, killing time, waiting for darkness to fall and for the camp to quiet down, when Benny brought up their trackers.

“I’ve learned the hard way, and just wanted to touch base before we do this tonight. God forbid those ISIS assholes get ahold of any of us. Everyone got your trackers?”

Everyone nodded, but Mozart suddenly looked guilty.

“What the fuck?” Wolf asked in a stifled, rough voice. “I thought we agreed on this.”

“We did, but honestly, with getting April and Summer settled and saying goodbye that morning, I simply forgot to grab it on my way out,” Mozart defended himself. “It’s usually in my tactical bag, but I took it out when we went on that one training exercise. It was stupid, I know.”

Abe sighed. “Okay, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll stick to Mozart. Tex will have known we only had five trackers between the six of us from the moment we left. We got this.”

The guys had given in reluctantly to their women’s request to wear a tracker while they were on missions. After Benny had been kidnapped, and the fact that Tex’s inability to track him led to Jess sacrificing herself and letting herself get taken as well, simply because she knew the tracker
she
was wearing would lead Tex right to Benny, they’d agreed to wear the GPS devices. The men had balked at first, saying their missions were highly classified, but Caroline had run roughshod over any and all of their arguments, correctly stating that Tex had the same security clearance as the rest of the team and he’d be the only one who would see where they were. She’d had a point, and eventually the guys agreed the extra security and peace of mind the trackers would give them, and their women, was worth it.

It wasn’t the first time one of the guys had forgotten the small GPS tracking device, but this was the first time any of them thought it might just be a necessity.

ISIS didn’t follow any rules of engagement. They were a ruthless gang of thugs who used the excuse of religion to torture and kill anyone they felt would further their cause. Not only would the team be up against a dangerous group of men, they’d be trying to snatch a prized possession right out from under the terrorists’ noses. The probability was high they’d get separated in the chaos of the rescue and the trackers would’ve made everyone feel better about that possibility.

Wanting to lighten the mood, and change the subject away from his faux pas, Mozart asked, “Dude, what names are you guys considering for your little girl?”

“Honestly? I don’t give a fuck. As long as she’s alive and kicking, I couldn’t care less.”

“Really? So if Cheyenne names her Bertha, you’re good with it?”

“Yup. She’s gonna be my little cupcake no matter what name Cheyenne gives her.” A few years ago, all the men would’ve given Dude no end of shit for his statement, but now, with families of their own? They got it. Dude continued, “I love egging Shy on though, so I’ve messed with her head so much, she doesn’t know what she wants anymore.”

“Not sure that’s cool, honestly,” Benny said. “Names are important, and if you’ve confused Cheyenne about what you want to name the baby versus what she wants to name her, that can be really stressful. I should know. Jess and I went back and forth and finally decided to give our kids as normal as names as possible. John and Sara are strong names and ones they won’t be made fun of for.”

“Like you were?” Wolf asked.

“Yeah. There weren’t too many Kasons around when I was growing up, hell, even now, and it made my life hell.”

“Shy knows I’m teasing her, Benny,” Dude said seriously. “I wouldn’t do one thing to cause Cheyenne more stress than she’s already under. We laugh about it together. We see who can come up with the most ridiculous name. But we’ve had some serious conversations about it too. Any stress Shy has about naming our baby, she’s bringing about on her own. Believe me, I’ve threatened to paddle her ass if she didn’t stop vacillating back and forth, but she swears she wants to
see
our daughter before she picks a name. That she wants to make sure the name she has in her head matches what she sees when she looks at her face for the first time.”

The men were quiet. They all knew Dude, knew he liked control, and knew any paddling he gave his wife would end in both their pleasure. They understood he’d never do anything purposely to hurt Cheyenne, just as any of them wouldn’t hurt their wives.

“Sorry, man, I know you wouldn’t hurt her. It’s just—”

Dude cut Benny off. “It’s cool. I get it. I just hope like fuck this can be done so I can be with her when it’s time.”

The men nodded. They all hoped so too, although before tonight, they hadn’t expected it to happen.

“Speaking of names,” Cookie started with a grin, “you told your woman how you got your nickname yet, Benny?”

“Hell no,” Benny immediately responded. “One, Jess would probably laugh her head off and I’d never hear the end of it, and two, there’s no way in hell I ever want her knowing a prostitute somewhere in the depths of Africa gave that nickname to me.”

The guys laughed quietly.

“This sounds like a good story,” Rex said when the laughter had died down.

Abe didn’t give Benny a chance to deflect the unasked question. “We were chilling out at a bar after a mission in Africa. A prostitute came up to our table to try to score for the night. She asked our man here if he was looking for a good time. Benny, thinking he was being witty, said, ‘Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.’ It was noisy in the bar and the prostitute didn’t understand English that well and thought he was telling her his name. So she said, ‘Ten Dollars for you, Benny Dunhat with the T-shirt.’ It stuck.”

Now it was the Virginia team’s turn to laugh uproariously.

“Fucking classic,” Rex said, and nodded approvingly.

“Assholes,” Benny said putting his hands behind his head and trying to relax back into his bedroll. “If Jess finds out, I’m holding you all responsible. I like the way she tries to convince me to tell her the story.”

His teammates all laughed, but Benny knew if they’d kept their mouths shut for the last two years, he was good. They might make fun of him, but Benny knew it was all good-natured teasing. He didn’t really care if Jess knew how he’d gotten his nickname, of course she and the other women knew prostitutes existed, but the more the girls asked, the more it became an ongoing inside joke with the guys. They all knew it drove the women nuts not to know the origin of Benny’s nickname, and that made it all the more fun to keep it from them.

The tent quieted down, except for the regular noises of the camp settling in for the night around them. Rex’s team had talked together quietly for a while, but now the men were slowly getting into battle mode. It was almost time.

P
enelope sat
against one side of the tent thinking about what she wanted to eat first, after she drank a gallon of cold, clean water, when she got back to the States. A double-meat hamburger from
Whataburger
. No, that lava desert thing from
Chili’s
. Hell, she didn’t care. As long as it was big and she could eat until she felt like she would burst. That was what was most important.

She was in the middle of dreaming about food when she heard something. A bang sounded off to the east of her tent. It wasn’t terribly loud, but it was enough to get her attention.

She heard two men speaking frantically in Arabic outside her tent, but no one entered. A little while later, Penelope heard a noise she’d dreamed about, but had started to think she’d never really hear.

The sound of the thick canvas material that made up the walls of her prison tearing. It could’ve been a terrorist or other bad guy coming to get her, but she didn’t think so. They’d simply barge in the flap in the front, not try to be stealthy in the back. It had to be the cavalry.

Penelope turned to the sound and saw a black shape entering the tent from a large slice made in the back side of the tent.

“It’s about fucking time,” she said slowly and with extreme emotion, standing up and facing the shape, being cautious because there was still a
chance
it could be someone in the camp there to cause trouble.

Dude stood up inside the tent and looked at Sergeant Penelope Turner. She looked exactly like their intel said she’d look, albeit a little worse for the wear. Her blonde hair hung lanky around her shoulders and she looked as if she’d lost at least twenty pounds she couldn’t spare. She wasn’t very tall; the five-foot-two description was probably right on.

She stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something, more thankful than she could ever express he was there.

“United States Navy SEAL, Sergeant. We’re here to take you home,” Dude said in a muted tone.

“Awesome. I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States, as long as you’re here to get me the fuck out of here.”

Dude almost smiled. The team had a long discussion about the condition in which they might find this woman when they entered the tent. He’d been ready for anything, including resistance, but was more than happy to see she wasn’t broken. Hell, she didn’t even look bent.

“Any chance you have a weapon for me?”

Dude frowned down at her. “Can you handle it?” At her immediate scowl, he clarified, “I meant, you probably haven’t eaten a whole lot. We have a ways to go to get to the extraction point. We don’t exactly need you dropping it or losing control of it if we run into trouble.” He watched as she thought through his words and his respect for her grew.

“Fuck. Yeah, you’re probably right. I feel shaky as hell and I’m not sure how far I can go on my own steam. Got any water?” Penelope was frustrated that the SEAL thought she couldn’t handle a pistol, but knew deep down he was probably right to be cautious. The last thing she wanted was to be a liability and somehow screw up her own rescue.

“We’ve got to get out of here, but as soon as we can find a safe spot and we’re a good distance away, I’ll make sure you get some water.”

Penelope nodded. It was what she’d expected, and she’d prefer to get the hell out of there right now, rather than to take a drink and possibly get caught, but she was extremely thirsty and couldn’t help the question from coming out anyway. She gestured to the slice in the tent. “Are you leading, or am I?”

Dude allowed his smile to come out this time. Damn, she was feisty. She reminded him a lot of his Shy. He gestured for her to go first. “I’ve got a man right outside, don’t trip over him.”

The look she gave him clearly told him to fuck off. He smiled again and watched as she carefully parted the material and took her first step toward freedom.

T
he trip through the quiet
, dark camp was surprisingly anticlimactic. Wolf and Benny led the way, making sure to notify Cookie and Dude of any detours they needed to make, while Mozart and Abe had their backs, making sure they weren’t followed or harassed as they made their way through the camp.

Rex’s SEAL team had done their job well. They didn’t encounter anyone suspicious and made good time toward the extraction point.

Penelope followed Dude as best she could. He’d stopped about ten minutes after they’d left the tent and given her a canteen of water. Penelope wanted to guzzle it down and then pour another over her head, but she controlled her urges and took only a few sips. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick in the middle of her rescue. She handed it back to the SEAL who had entered her tent and felt a warmth in her belly at the look of approval in his eyes. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her with respect, it felt good. She shrugged it off and did what she usually did, said something snarky, simply to get through the moment without crying. “If you’re done eyeballin’ me, how ’bout we get out of this fucking desert?”