SEAL’s Desire (9 page)

“What if he tries something?” Remy asked, his muscles tensing.

Irish patted his shoulder. “I’ll go stand close to the door and listen for trouble.”

“Why not me?” Remy tried again to push to his feet.

Irish clapped a hand to Remy’s back and grinned like he was telling a pretty funny joke while he spoke through tightly stretched lips. “If you get too close to his bodyguards, they might recognize you.”

Remy shoved aside Irish’s hands. “I don’t care.”

“Mitchell will care if you blow her operation. Her friend Kelli’s life is at stake here,” Big Bird, always the logical one, reminded him.

Remy spoke softly. “Swede, you getting any of this?”

“The music is loud, but I’m getting most of it. I gather Mitchell is baiting the trap.”

With herself.

Remy closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the heavens.
Derek, if you’re up there, keep an eye on Mitchell.
When he opened his eyes, he let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

A woman stepped out on stage and announced, “Please give Dixie Lee and CC Hart a hand as they entertain you to the tune of
Hold It Against Me
by Britney Spears.”

Only one stripper pranced out on the stage, her bleached platinum blond hair bouncing around her shoulders. Strobe lights kicked in, as the stripper gyrated to the music her movements erotic, sensuous and disjointed as the stage blinked dark then light. She clung to the dance pole, sliding up and down. And she wasn’t Mitchell.

“Didn’t the woman announce that CC Hart would be dancing this set?” Remy asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah. She did.” Fish pointed to the woman who’d announced the act. She’d turned around and was talking to someone near the curtain.

“Gator, looks like you won’t have to wait long,” Swede said. “Mitch’s location just moved out into the alley behind the club.”

Remy shot to his feet along with the rest of the team, gesturing as he moved. “Fish, Nacho take the front. Circle around the side in case they come around that way. Big Bird and Tuck take the side exit and swing around to the back. Dustman, Irish, you’re with me.” He leaped up on the stage and charged toward the back.

The two bouncers flanking the stage jumped up, grabbed Remy’s arms and tried to haul him off. One of them landed a punch to his belly.

Pain was numbed by his determination to get to the back door before Hatch left with Mitchell. He ducked and twisted out of one man’s grip, plowed his shoulder into his gut, lifted him off the ground and dropped him on his ass.

The downed man scrambled to his feet and charged toward Remy.

Still caught in the other man’s grip, Remy braced himself for impact.

A pretty, high-heeled foot shot out, tripping the attacker and he fell flat on his face.

“I always wanted to do that.” The dancer, Dixie Lee, smiled and danced off.

Dustman jerked the other thug away from Remy and slammed his fist into the guy’s face. The man toppled like a tree.

A woman behind the stage screamed and ran.

Remy raced into the dressing room back stage.

A brunette dressed as a French maid stepped in front of him. “Looking for me?” Her eyelids sank low over her eyes.

“Nope.” Grabbing her arms, he set her to the side.

The woman pouted. “Yeah, baby, I like my men rough.”

Remy ignored her and pushed on.

The other ladies, in various states of nudity, didn’t even pretend to cover themselves, flashing their breasts in his face and calling out as he and his teammates raced for the back exit.

“Call me, sweet cheeks.”

“I could ride a stud like you.”

Irish groaned and muttered, “Eyes front, eyes front.” Despite all the temptation, he kept pace behind Remy with Dustman bringing up the rear.

“They’re on the move!” Swede called into Remy’s headset.

Remy burst through the backdoor. Taillights flashed at the end of the alley as a limousine turned onto the street and drove off.

“They’re headed south on Market Street. Mount up!”

Gut clenched into a tight wad, Remy ran for the front of the Naughty Ladies Lounge.

Tuck was already in his SUV pulling forward. “Get in!” he shouted.

Remy grabbed the door handle before the vehicle came to a full halt and dove into the front passenger seat. Big Bird scrambled behind the wheel of the van in which Swede had set up shop.

Irish ran for his vehicle, calling out. “Don’t wait on us, we’ll catch up.” Dustman and Fish clambered into his vehicle.

Tuck gunned the accelerator, spitting up gravel as he turned in the direction Swede indicated.

“Where are they now?” Remy demanded, praying the van could keep pace with them or they’d get out of range of their radios really quickly.

“Still headed south. No, wait. In about a quarter of mile, turn left at a major intersection.”

“Don’t lose them,” Remy said, fighting to keep his voice calm.

“I’m not as afraid of losing them as losing you guys,” Swede responded. “The tracking device she has implanted is strong and steady. You might have to slow down for us. This van doesn’t manage the curves as well as your vehicles.”

Remy’s fingers curled around the armrest, his fingers digging into the upholstery. He leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse of the speeding vehicle putting distance between him and Mitchell. God, he prayed they wouldn’t harm her.

He wished he knew what Rocco was up to. The man could be taking her out to dinner or he could be setting her up as a sex slave. Until they caught up with Mitchell, they wouldn’t know.

Second-guessing his decision to go along with this operation, he wondered if he should have blown her cover and kept her from falling into Rocco’s hands.

‡

A
s soon as
she stepped into the limousine, Mitchell almost regretted her move. If she could have thought of any other way of finding Kelli, she wouldn’t have set herself up as bait. Now that she was committed, all she could do was play it out and hope she lived to find Kelli.

Squelching her revulsion for the man, Mitchell draped her body over Rocco’s arm and twirled her finger around his earlobe. “Are we going to your place, honey?” She forced herself to be calm, cool and seductive, when her heart wanted to leap out of her chest.

Rocco shook his head.

“No?” She pouted, hating herself for the simpering act. “Are we going to a hotel?”

His lips twisted and his gaze turned sinister. “No.”

“Really?” Her pulse ratcheting up even more, Mitchell wanted to rip off this man’s head. Instinct was screaming to her that this was it. He was the one who’d kidnapped all those women. For them, she leaned close, her lips brushing the side of his neck. While pretending to want sex with the man, she had to force back her need to vomit. The man could be getting away with murder or worse—sexual slavery. “But I thought you liked me.”

“I like you okay. But I don’t have to.” He nodded toward the front of the limousine. The dark glass window between them and the driver slid down.

A woman with bright red hair turned in her seat and glanced at Mitchell.

“Candi?” Mitchell tipped her head.
Is the stripper part of the plot?

“Surprised? My little act with the bouncers was pretty convincing, right?” The redhead sneered, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Before long, you’ll be wishing you hadn’t fucked with me.”

Rocco grabbed her arm and yanked her across his lap.

Mitchell fought the man, but she’d been taken by surprise, and he’d pinned her arms to her sides.

Kicking her feet against the door, she struggled, trying to break free.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Rocco jabbed a needle into her arm. “Candi calls the shots around here. And what Candi wants, she gets.”

“And what I want right now is your head on a platter.” The woman in the front seat laughed, her voice echoing in Mitchell’s fuzzy head.

Rocco shoved her off his lap and she hit the floor of the limousine, landing on her hands and knees.

She struggled to stay alert as whatever they’d injected into her sucked the strength from her muscles. “Where are…you…taking…me?” Her arms gave out and she fell over on her side, staring across the expanse of the limousine at the woman in the passenger seat.

“Where you won’t be a pain in my ass.” She nodded at Rocco. “Deal with her.” The connecting window rolled up between them.

Awake, but unable to move, Mitchell could do little to stop Rocco from binding her wrists behind her back with duct tape and slapping a strip across her mouth.

She’d wanted to find the location of the abducted women and it appeared she’d get her wish. Though she’d told Remy she could hold her own, she hadn’t counted on this—the paralysis-inducing drug Rocco had given her made that impossible. Even if she wanted to escape now, she couldn’t.

As the limousine raced through the city, she prayed Remy would notify her boss and they could mobilize the cavalry in time to save her and Kelli.

“Distance?” Remy called
over the radio to Swede.

“Approximately a half of a mile.”

“That’s too much.” Remy turned to Tuck. “Can’t you go faster?”

“I could.” Tuck shot a glance at him. “But if we get too close, they might detect us.”

Remy’s hands bunched into fists. “If we lose that limo, we lose Mitchell.”

“Calm down, Gator.” Tuck frowned. “We won’t lose her as long as she has that tracker.”

“Shit!” Swede cursed into Remy’s ear.

“What?” Remy asked, his pulse pounding so hard against his eardrums he could barely hear Swede.

“I lost her.”

Remy swore and slammed his fist on the armrest. “How the hell did you lose her?”

“She just disappeared off the screen,” Swede said.

Tuck glanced across the console at Remy. “They probably took her into a solid concrete building, like a parking garage or basement.”

“I have the position of her last location before she disappeared,” Swede said.

“Get us there, ASAP.” Remy ground his teeth together, leaning forward in his seat as if that would get him to Mitchell quicker. He should never have let her go forward with this insane plan.

As they passed through the streets, the area had transitioned from residential to retail to the warehouse and staging district near the shipyards. Large buildings spanned entire blocks. Some new and clean, others dark and derelict. The deeper they drove into the streets full of warehouses, the older and more deteriorated they became.

Remy’s gut clenched tighter with each change in condition.

Streetlights were fewer and farther between and fences that had once kept out the riffraff had been cut, bent or torn down around different facilities.

“Find a place to hide your vehicle,” Swede called out. “You’re approximately four blocks over from the last known location. We’ll move in by foot from here.”

Remy pointed to an alley between two rundown buildings. “There.”

While Tuck pulled into the space, far enough back the shadows would help to hide their vehicle, Remy applied black camouflage paint to his face, neck and the back of his hands.

As soon as Tuck shifted into Park, they leaped out, opened the rear hatch of the SUV and hauled out the weapons they might need to storm a secure compound. Tuck had a vest loaded with CS grenades, rifle magazines and handgun clips. He strapped the vest to his body and threw a jacket over it.

“I’m not going to ask where you got the grenades.”

He tossed two more to Remy. “Good, because it’s a secret.”

“And if you told me…”

“I’d have to kill you.” Tuck grinned as he slapped on some camouflage paint. “Or share my source. And I’m not very good at sharing.”

Remy strapped a knife scabbard to his forearm and pulled his sleeve down over it. He grabbed an HK 40 semi-automatic pistol and shoved a silencer in his pocket.

“Hey, Gator, need these?” Irish stood at the end of the alley with a rifle in one hand and four loaded magazines tucked into the pockets of the tactical plate carrier vest he’d slipped over the long-sleeved black T-shirt and dark slacks he’d worn to the strip club. He’d blackened his face with camouflage paint and wore his Kevlar helmet equipped with night vision goggles, the goggles pushed up. In his other hand, he carried Remy’s helmet and vest.

Remy pulled off the sweat jacket he’d worn to the club and strapped on the vest over his black shirt. Once he had on his helmet, he tucked his HK 40 handgun in the leg holster on his thigh, hooked the CS grenades into his vest and closed the back of the SUV. “Let’s go.”

They’d already taken too much time, and had yet to locate Mitchell in the concrete jungle.

Big Bird, Fish, Nacho and Dustman met them at the end of the alley.

Now that they were ready, an intense calm and focus settled over Remy, his training and experience kicking in. This was what they did—covert combat operations. The team had gone door to door, searching for and extracting key personnel from hostile situations all across the Middle East.

Searching the warehouse district on the coast of Virginia would be a piece of cake.

Swede held out his smart phone and pointed at a position on the street map displayed. “Her last location was here.” Expanding the display to the satellite image, he pointed to a long warehouse building flanked by other warehouses on three sides and a huge open area filled with Conex cargo shipping containers stacked two, three and four deep. Beyond that was the shipyard and the shipping channel.