Targeted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 2)
Read Targeted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Kaylea Cross
Targeted
by
Kaylea Cross
Copyright © 2014 by Kaylea Cross
Cover Art by
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
ISBN: 978-1-928044-06-2
Dedication
To my amazing readers, who support me and encourage me to listen to the voices in my head so I can write their stories. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!
Kaylea
Welcome to book two of the
Hostage Rescue Team Series!
In this one I’ve pitted Agent Celida Morales against her sexy and unattainable former partner, Tuck, so expect plenty of fireworks as these two struggle to find their way to one another.
Up next will be Bauer and the girl he swore he’d never fall for. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and I can’t wait to make Bauer fall flat on his face. *chortles*
Happy reading!
Kaylea Cross
Nineteen months ago
Special Agent Brad “Tuck” Tucker shifted his brake hand on the rappelling rope and spoke quietly into his microphone. “Saber one and two in position.” His voice barely carried in the cold November air, his breath fogging in the frigid night.
“Roger that. Stand by,” the commanding officer replied from inside the mobile command center.
Tuck glanced beside him at one of his teammates as they hung suspended on the side of the five-story building in the darkness, and received an affirmative nod in response. The hostage-taker inside had an automatic rifle, two handguns and a machete he’d already used to kill his father-in-law a day ago. The standoff had gone on for two days before Tuck and his team had been called in to end it.
The gun-toting asshole inside that apartment had no idea what was about to happen to him.
Tuck stayed absolutely still in the harness, the soles of his boots flat against the brick siding as he waited.
“Execute.”
At the quiet command through the headset, Tuck and his teammate automatically rappelled two leaps down the building. A split second later the sniper team on an opposite rooftop activated the charges on the apartment’s front windows. The sound of shattering glass surrounded him an instant before he and his teammate swung through the busted windows, feet first. He landed inside the unit with his MP5 up and ready and lobbed in a flashbang.
The other five members of the assault team breached the apartment door a heartbeat later as it exploded and added a few of their own, filling the small space with blinding flashes and smoke. The back bedroom door flung open. “FBI, FBI, everybody down!”
Through his NVGs Tuck could see the perp standing in the doorway, the automatic rifle in his hands aimed at the entry team. He was wearing a ballistic vest and they’d already received clearance to take him out if he refused to surrender. Before the guy could move Tuck already had the red laser dot from his weapon aimed at the center of the guy’s face.
“Hands up, hands up!” the team leader shouted as more laser dots appeared on the suspect.
The perp’s face twisted into a mask of rage, his face slick with sweat as he let out a scream of rage. “I’m gonna kill you motherfuckers!” He started to raise his weapon. Before the muzzle had even moved two inches, Tuck fired a double tap, hitting him in the face. The guy fell backward, dead before he hit the floor.
“He’s down. Move, move, move,” the team leader said, ushering the rest of the team past him. They all rushed to the back bedroom to retrieve the hostages while Tuck covered the team leader as he walked up to the tango and kicked the assault weapon aside. Following protocol, he put two fingers beneath the man’s jaw to check for a pulse. “Dead.”
Tuck and another teammate cleared the rest of the small apartment. “Clear,” he reported.
“Clear!” someone shouted from the back, confirming the threat was neutralized.
Tuck lowered his weapon as the others came out of the room carrying the two females and one child.
Mission accomplished.
As the team filed out of the apartment, the team leader went to one knee and slapped a good natured hand on the man’s chest. “Very convincing,” he said with a chuckle.
The “suspect” reached up a hand to shove the now yellow-spattered protective visor up, revealing one of their teammates. Vance grinned up at them, his teeth startlingly white against his dark skin. Currently out with a badly sprained ankle, he’d volunteered to be the perp for this exercise “Well, I’m definitely awake now. And I’m also glad Tuck remembered to load simunition into his magazine.”
Tuck chuckled, slung his weapon across his chest and reached down a hand to help his teammate up off the floor. They almost always used live ammo during their exercises, just like Delta did, so that was nothing new for him. “For a second there I couldn’t remember if I’d loaded the simunitions or not,” he teased. “Glad it all worked out.”
Vance grunted and slapped him on the shoulder by way of a thank you, hobbling a bit on his bad foot. “Me too.”
“Nice touch with the rage yell, by the way,” Tuck commented. “Really added to the atmosphere.”
Vance shrugged. “I do what I can. Don’t mind taking one for the team every now and again. But you just killed me with two shots to the face, man, so I’m not talking to you right now. And you owe me a fucking beer,” he said as he walked past him.
“Yeah, all right.” Tuck followed the others out of the “apartment” on the infamous Hogan’s Alley and back to HQ for debriefing. This place felt like home to him. He’d spent countless hours here back in his Delta days, and because the Hostage Rescue Team routinely used Delta’s ranges and shooting houses, he’d be spending a lot more time back in his old stomping grounds.
And damn, it felt good to be back after two years in the field as a regular FBI agent where he’d put his recently earned degree in criminal justice to good use. Having come from his elite, tier one unit to the FBI after his knees had healed up from the last surgery, the switch to investigative work and the lack of action had damn near killed him. He’d never been cut out to be a desk jockey.
Now he was finally back in his element, doing what he did best: Kicking ass and taking names.
The training and op tempo for the HRT was a huge step up for some of the guys on the squad, but for him and the guys who’d served in tier one military units prior to joining the FBI, this was status quo and they wouldn’t have it any other way. The constant training kept them sharp.
After they were dismissed for the night he showered and dressed, then checked his phone. He’d missed a call from his partner, Celida, but she’d left him a text.
Well???
Smiling a little, he typed back his response.
Well what?
She responded a few seconds later.
You know damn well what! So?
Sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.
He could just imagine the scowl on her pretty face as she answered.
It’s been two weeks since selection. Did you make it or not?
Chuckling now, he replied.
Meet me for dinner and I’ll tell you. My treat
.
His phone dinged a few seconds later.
Fine, if you’re buying. When?
Damn he loved that sweet/tart mix of her personality.
Even though he was excited about the future, the truth was he was going to miss working with her. It was for the best though. He was already thirty-one and she was twenty-nine. They both needed to move forward in their careers.
Now
,
he answered.
He texted her the name and address of an Italian restaurant near the Baltimore field office. Once he received her reply that she’d meet him there, he climbed in his truck and headed north.
She was there waiting for him when he pulled into the parking lot, leaning against her four-door sedan with her arms folded across the chest of her cream wool coat that highlighted the sexy, full hourglass curves beneath it. Her coffee brown hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail at the back of her head, a few tendrils blowing around her face in the slight breeze.
She lifted a dark brown eyebrow at him expectantly when he climbed out of his truck. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, highlighting the lightly bronzed skin tone of her Cuban heritage, and her deep gray eyes were fixed on his face. “So? You gonna tell me now?”
Not until he got to spend some time with her. They’d always kept things strictly professional, a little harmless flirting aside, but they had no such restrictions anymore. Made it damn hard to stay patient, not plunge ahead, but he knew he had to go slow with her. He didn’t want a fling and then be done, and that’s exactly what he was afraid would happen if they rushed things and acted on the attraction they’d both tried to ignore the past two years.
Because he was well aware that in terms of relationships, she only did short and sweet with guys. At least the ones she’d hooked up with until now.
For damn sure Tuck wasn’t going to be like the others. “After dinner. Come on.”
He took her upper arm and pulled her away from her car. And he didn’t let go. She cast him a sideways glance but didn’t comment or pull out of his grasp. She stood five-six but in her heels she was tall enough to look him dead in the eyes. The hostess sat them at a table for two near the wood-burning brick fireplace. The setting was decidedly romantic, way different than any of the places they’d eaten at together before now, both on and off duty, and he wasn’t sorry for it.
Tonight marked a new chapter in their relationship and he wanted to lay the foundation for that transition. He’d had a few serious relationships over the years, but none of the women could hold a candle to Celida.
She was a former Marine, for starters, which was just flat out sexy, and during their time as partners her shooting had improved to the point where she was now damn near as good as him with a handgun. Her mind was quick, she was driven and focused, and fucking loyal to the select few she included in her inner circle. She’d earned his trust within two weeks of leaving the Academy and though nothing hairy had gone down during their partnership, if it had Tuck knew without a doubt he could’ve counted on her to have his back.
In short, it was a goddamn miracle he hadn’t made a move on her up ‘til now.
The waiter brought them a basket of freshly baked bread and took their orders. He brought their drinks next and the moment he left Celida leaned forward and put her slender hands on the table, narrowing her eyes at him. Smalltalk was over.
“You made it. I know you did.”
Hiding a smile, he sipped at his beer and shrugged. “Maybe.”
She snorted and eased back into her chair. “No maybe about it. With your experience? Come on. They’d be freaking brain dead not to sign you, so just quit with all the humble bullshit and tell me already.”
He set his beer glass down, met her eyes and nodded once. “I’m in.”
A flash of triumph entered those deep gray eyes, but he also caught the flash of sadness there. “Knew it.” She brushed aside a wayward lock of hair that had escaped the sleek ponytail, and blew out a breath. “When do you start?”
“Already did, couple days ago. Did a training op today with the guys. The unit I’m in is on training cycle right now, but there’s talk we might be sent overseas for a protective detail soon.”
She nodded, grabbed her glass of red wine and looked away while she took a sip. “God knows there’s enough hot spots in the world right now. You guys’ll never be short on work, that’s for sure.”