Authors: Aliyah Burke
personal lockers. Osten was the last to enter the locker room. His mind
moved over the images he had committed to memory.
“Petty Officer Scoleri,” a feminine voice, said breaking his con-
centration.
His gaze flickered up to the woman before him. “Chief Leigh-
ton,” he said automatically. His team leader’s wife stood before him in
her khaki uniform. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
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“I need to speak to you. When you are done here, report to me
in your briefing room.” She nodded sharply and walked off.
Osten looked around and then grabbed his bag. Shutting his
locker door, he locked it and headed back to the room he had just
vacated.
Knocking once, he waited to be called and then stepped into the
room once he was. Immediately his eyes found Chief Alexis Leighton
waiting for him. Her back was to him and she seemed to be studying a
map of the world.
“Petty Officer Scoleri reporting as ordered, ma’am.” Osten stood
straight and waited for her to speak.
“Shut the door, Petty Officer,” she ordered without turning
around.
As soon as the heavy gray door shut, Osten found himself facing
Lex. Everything about her demeanor screamed rigid and professional,
but the expression in her eyes softened for a brief moment.
Then she stiffened and walked smartly until they were almost
side by side. In her left hand she had a small vial and pressed it into
Osten’s hand. “Have a safe trip, Petty Officer.” Then without any other
further words, she headed for the door, stopping only to say, “Com-
mander.”
Turning around so he had time to pocket the vial she had given
him, Osten found Scott standing there watching him. Alexis was not in
sight. “Everything okay, Baby Boy?” Scott asked.
“Fine, sir.”
“Gonna tell me what my wife was doing in here?”
“All she did was wish us a safe trip.” Osten felt bad for lying;
but if Alexis hadn’t seen fit to tell her husband, he wasn’t going to say
anything, either.
Shrewd blue eyes narrowed. “Very well. We’re ready to go.”
“Right behind you, Harrier,” Osten slipped back into the less
formal talk between teammates. Shouldering his bag, he followed Scott
out to the waiting van.
The short ride to the Naval Air Station Oceana Master Jet Base
was done in relative silence. Osten felt an anxiousness fill him that had
not ever been there before. It was different from the first time he went
on a mission with this team. But it wasn’t just a “normal” rescue mis-
sion for him, either. This time it was personal.
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The quiet remained although all around them was plenty of
noise and hustle. The men were stoic as they walked up into the back of
the cargo plane they would be jumping from.
As soon as they were airborne, the men changed. They put on
the snow suits that would keep them hidden from prying eyes and
warm in the cold night air. Harrier went over the details of the mission
one final time as they were flown to the jump zone.
The sun was dropping below the horizon when the tail end of
the plane opened. By the time the group reached ten thousand feet and
opened their chutes, it would be pitch black and they would float in
totally unseen. The cold winter air swirled about the men as they lined
up and waited for the green jump light. All gear had been checked and
double checked, so they were ready.
Osten felt the familiar rush of adrenaline fill him as he watched
the men before him fall away into the increasing darkness. He snapped
out a salute to the jump master and stepped out into the night, letting
the air whisk him away.
The fall was done in total silence, each man knowing what he
needed to do once he reached the ground. Chutes and harnesses were
quickly stored as the men regrouped after landing. No words were
spoken; hand signals were used as they spread out in pairs and careful-
ly made their way to the target that held their “package.”
Chantoya Willow Jackson.
The biting winds swirled and did their best to make things mi-
serable for the eight men out in the elements. None of them lost focus
on the task before them, though. The cold wasn’t a factor. Their outfits
could hold up in extreme sub-zero temperatures.
Osten clicked the mic at his throat. Everyone froze and waited.
“Movement,” his muted voice reached the others. “West corner.”
Maverick’s whisper reached them. “Raccoon in the trash. Pack-
age and Tango same position.”
Osten clicked twice for his understanding. Progress was careful
as they tried not to alarm animals, trip sensors, or any other precaution
that maybe around the cabin’s perimeter.
A glance to the tinted face of his watch told Osten how long they
had until the feds arrived and shit hit the fan. Making eye contact with
Jeb, Osten gestured for him to proceed and he would watch.
The team leapfrogged and continually made progress from the
trees to surround the cabin. They never gave away their position or
forgot to watch each other’s six. They were a team, a well-oiled ma-
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chine, and it was obvious with the smooth way they worked with one
another.
Merlin set explosives to take out the generators that powered up
the cabin. The other Team members positioned themselves by exits.
Hondo made sure all vehicles were unusable. Ghost flowed up to back
up Osten while Maverick turned his sniper’s scope to the lone road and
watched for the feds, keeping their transport out on standby.
“On my mark,” Harrier’s low voice reached them. He had his
finger on the switch to take out the generators. All the men waited for
his command. Knowing once all hell broke loose, they only had a short
time to retrieve Chantoya.
“Whatever you do, do it now and fast. They’ll be here in five
minutes. Chopper in four, and we have an unidentified vehicle about a
minute ahead of the feds. Can’t tell if it’s an undercover or not,” Mave-
rick’s deep voice filled them in.
“Move out,” the command rang.
T w e n t y - T w o
Chantoya fought to maintain a civil conversation with the de-
ranged man who had kidnapped her and killed the man of whom she
had believed the worst. Marvin Whittle. She felt shame for her previous
thoughts about him.
“What’s wrong, CJ? What are you thinking about?”
“Marvin,” she blurted out without thinking it through and bela-
tedly wondered if that were the smartest thing to say.
“What about him?” Gordon asked, sipping his wine.
“How could you kill him? What about a family he could have
left behind?” She placed her fork down, anger filling her.
“He got in the way. It was nothing personal. I’ll kill whomever
to keep you by my side, where you
belong.
”
Bile rushed to the top of her throat. He spoke of killing so non-
chalantly, so lackadaisically, it made her sick. “I’m just…I don’t know
what to say. Marvin was a human being and you killed him for no
reason. You make me sick!” CJ pushed back from the table.
“Sit down,” he ordered. “You haven’t finished your meal.”
“Go to hell!” she yelled and ran for her room.
Gordon was after her in a second. Chantoya felt the back of her
dress rip as he tried to stop her. Without thought, she spun and
smacked him right across the face and kept on running.
From his growl of anger, she knew that her actions had taken
him by surprise. It wasn’t long before his heavier steps were after her.
CJ ran into her room and slammed the door, knowing it was pointless;
she couldn’t get away from him. “I should have gone outside,” she
muttered to the room as she used her body to try and keep the door
shut.
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The knob jiggled and her stomach heaved as tears began pour-
ing down her face.
I’m about to die.
Her body tensed and she tried to
push against the door, keeping the devil out of her room. The ripped
material from her dress flopping over her shoulder was ignored.
“Open the door, CJ.” Gordon’s voice was once again calm and
modulated. That scared her even more.
She shook her head and braced herself even more. Chantoya
wasn’t about to waste her energy on talking to him; she had to find a
way to keep him out of the room. But the only thing in there was the
bed and she had already found it was screwed to the floor. The mattress
wouldn’t help her, either.
“I’ll give you one chance to open this door,” he said. CJ felt the
door move as Gordon tried to open it. Strength born of fear gave her the
power to stop that attempt. “You’re making me angry, CJ,” he snapped.
Still wordless, CJ stepped away from the door and positioned
herself to the side. She knew he would be busting in and perhaps the
momentum would give her the opportunity to run past him and out of
the cabin. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure that he could
hear it and would be wise to her plan.
Crash!
The door flew open and Gordon stumbled with the force
of his hit and the fact there was nothing behind the door to stop him.
CJ didn’t hesitate; she tore out of the room and up the hall,
heading for the door. The threat of dying in the cold wasn’t enough for
her to stay in this place another minute. If she got frostbite…she got
frostbite, but she would still be alive.
Her eyes found the front door and her feet moved faster. Bare
feet skidded as she slowed to open the door. One hand reached out for
the brass knob and she crumpled to the floor as electricity flowed
through her.
Gordon stood over her before she could get her body to coope-
rate and function. “I told you there was no way for you to escape me.”
He crouched down next to her. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Just like being
tasered by the cops.” Standing, he walked off, leaving her lying there.
Struggling to find her feet, CJ was totally unprepared for the
blow that knocked her back to the cold, hard floor of his cabin. Gordon
had backhanded her and now stood over her. “Don’t
ever
defy me like
that again. You know what…I think it is time we take this to the next
level.”
The tall man leaned down and painfully yanked her up, propel-
ling her down the hall in front of him. They went past the room he had
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kept her in and up the stairs to what CJ assumed to be Gordon’s room.
Dread set in.
Gordon shoved her into the room with enough force that she
stumbled to the bed before she had regained her balance. Her dress
would have fallen to her navel if she hadn’t held it up.
“Years, Chantoya. I’ve waited years for you and by God, you
will be mine tonight!”
“No!” Her mind scrambled frantically to figure out how to stall
him. “We can’t do this, not like this, Gordon!”
“Yes, now.” He moved into the room and prowled closer to her.
“I make you mine in all ways and then we begin your training.”
The bed was at her knees and she was out of room. Clutching
the torn dress in one hand, CJ held out her other one. “No, please!”
“Why are you acting like you want me to be nice? Just a bit ago
you were running from me.” Gordon arched a brow and looked at her
with those pale green eyes.
Think, brain, think!
“You told me I had to be cleansed because
those other men touched me, right?” Gordon stopped his approach and
stared at her. “If you do this to me, before we are married, it would be
the same thing, right? So we have to be married first,” CJ blurted out,
praying that would work.
“You’re right. I can’t take you without wedding you first.” Gor-
don moved to a closet and pulled out a garment bag. He moved to the
bed and held it out to CJ. “Shower and put this on. We wed tonight.”
That said the man walked out of the room.
“Shit!” she swore as she was alone once again. Who knew this
was how it would end. Her eyes cut to the right where the phone was,
but it wasn’t on its cradle. The side of her face throbbed and she still felt
off from the electricity that had pumped through her.
Avoiding the mirror, CJ climbed into the shower and sank to the
floor, holding her legs to her chest as the water pounded over her, and
cried. Finally she stood and finished the shower, determined to find a
way out of this.
“If we are getting married, that means he has to get a priest, and
I can just say no and that I’m being held here against my will.” Feeling a
bit better, she finished drying off and found that Gordon had put her
favorite lotion down beside the clothes she had to wear.
It is seriously
disturbing just how much he knows about me.
After lotioning her body and she was ready to put on the
clothes, CJ closed her eyes and prayed this would be over soon. As she
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unzipped the bag and took the perfectly pressed dress out, she sighed.