Chapter 1 #2
Monica had always thought it wasn’t the best idea. Her dad had taught her that the worst position to be in was one in which you allowed yourself to be cornered. Her childhood had been hell, but one thing he’d instilled into her brain was never to give up. Never.
She’d watched as the SEAL searched the ambassador’s home.
Someone else had soon joined him, and Monica heard their low, increasingly frustrated curses when they couldn’t find her.
She silently waited behind the wall, watching the tiny security screens, observing as they opened drawers and stole whatever valuables they could.
She saw them leave the house, and thought she was finally safe…until someone appeared yet again on the screens in her hidey-hole. But as she studied the video, she realized these men weren’t the same ones who had been searching the house before.
Hearing him call out that he was also a SEAL made Monica’s skin crawl. She could only assume they were with the other two men claiming to be US Navy, maybe sent in to search once more. It seemed they weren’t going to leave until she was found.
Fine. If a confrontation was what these men wanted, that was what she’d give them.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew her odds of making it out of the house unscathed were low.
Especially since there were two of them and only one of her.
But if she could take one out immediately with a bullet, maybe, just maybe, she could get out of the house and disappear.
Walking the streets of Algeria in the dark wasn’t her idea of a good time, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
As long as she could get away from these obviously corrupt military men, she’d figure things out from there.
She was her dad’s child. And he’d taught her well.
Trust no one but yourself.
Protect what’s yours.
Don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
Shivering at the “lessons” her dad had taught her, Monica tightened her right hand around the pistol.
Light footsteps came closer to her hiding spot, and Monica knew this was it. Somehow the SEAL had figured out where she was. Still, any element of surprise would give her a much-needed advantage in this situation.
The nonexistent fingers on her left hand throbbed.
They’d been amputated twenty years ago, but the phantom pain lingered to this day.
The safe room was mostly dark, but she didn’t have to see her hand to know what it looked like.
Four stubs were all that remained of her fingers.
They’d each been amputated at the second knuckle.
Doctors had tried to save them, but the damage had been too extensive and by the time her parents had brought her to the hospital, it had been too many days since the “accident.”
Hearing a noise on the other side of the wall, Monica forced herself to concentrate.
She brought her left hand up to balance the gun, took a deep breath—and pushed the door open far enough for him to see the barrel of the pistol.
She said in as menacing a tone as she could, “Don’t come any closer.
I have no problem blowing your head off. ”
Monica hadn’t thought too much beyond this moment.
She figured the SEAL would do his best to convince her to put the gun down.
Maybe even laugh at her. Over the years, people had consistently underestimated her.
At five feet three inches tall and not much over a hundred and ten pounds, she was definitely petite.
Her dad had always told her she could use her pipsqueak stature to lure the enemy into thinking she wasn’t a threat. Then she could strike.
Hating that her thoughts constantly turned to the man who’d made her life a living hell for sixteen years, Monica squinted, trying to see the SEAL through the crack in the door.
Her moment of being lost in her head cost her.
Between one heartbeat and the next, the SEAL moved.
Monica cried out in pain as the door flew open and he knocked the gun right out of her hand so quickly, she didn’t have time to pull the trigger.
Before the weapon even hit the floor, he’d pulled her out of her hiding space and spun her around, wrapping one huge arm around her chest and trapping her own against her body.
She did her best to squirm her way out of his hold, but it was no use. He’d disarmed her and rendered her immobile in less than five seconds. If Darren Collins was alive, he’d be disgusted.
“I’m assuming you’re the nanny,” the man behind her drawled.
His amused tone pissed Monica off. He didn’t even seem fazed that she’d almost shot him. “Let me go!” she ordered as forcefully as she could.
He didn’t loosen his hold even a fraction. If he had, she might’ve been able to somehow get out of his grasp. But where would she go?
“Weapon secured,” a second deep voice said from behind them.
Shit. She’d already forgotten about the other SEAL. Panic flooded her body.
As if he could read her like a book, the man holding her said, “Easy. You’re safe. Did you not hear me say I’m a SEAL?” he asked.
“I heard you,” she said, knowing the bitterness in her tone was loud and clear.
“We need to go, Pid,” the other man said.
Monica frowned. She had no idea what kind of name Pid was, but she didn’t like it.
“If I let you go, are you gonna fight me?” the man holding her asked.
“Depends,” she told him honestly.
“On?”
“If you’re going to try to rape me or not,” she answered bluntly.
“What the fuck?” the man behind them swore incredulously.
“My name is Stuart. Stu for short. My friends call me Pid,” her captor said.
“Your friends aren’t very nice,” Monica retorted, suddenly understanding how he’d gotten his nickname.
“Unfortunately, you can’t pick your nickname. Your nickname picks you,” Stuart replied.
“Seriously, Pid—we need to go,” the other guy repeated.
“In a second. The man behind me is Slate. His real name is Duncan Stone. Slate, Stone…get it?”
“I know what you’re doing,” Monica said. She wished she could see the face of the man holding her, but he had too firm a grip for her to even turn her body enough to catch a glimpse of his face.
“What am I doing?” he asked.
“Trying to get me to trust you by making you and your friend seem harmless. It’s not going to happen. Ever. Especially not after your other friend shot the door downstairs.”
“My other friend?” he asked.
Monica clenched her teeth. She couldn’t stand his ridiculous innocent act. “Yeah.”
“I hate to disagree with a lady, but that wasn’t anyone I know. What makes you think it was?”
Monica snorted. “Of course you know him! How many other people go around knocking on doors, claiming to be Navy SEALs?” she asked.
“Fuck,” Slate muttered again.
“He wasn’t with me,” Stuart repeated calmly.
Monica snorted. “Right.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know. Half an hour maybe? He left just before you got here.” She didn’t know why she was humoring this asshole.
“Right. Half an hour ago, Slate and I were standing on the roof of the American Embassy. We met the ambassador and his family, and a little boy begged me to find his nanny. Said she was waiting at his house for him and his mom, dad, and brother to get home. I promised him I’d find you and make sure you were safe. ”
Monica stilled, swallowing hard. That sounded just like something August would do. He was a sensitive little seven-year-old. And the fact that he’d been worried about her almost broke her heart.
“So you see, we were busy half an hour ago and nowhere near here. And there aren’t any SEALs to spare, considering everyone—except for us—is currently doing their best to evacuate the embassy. You’re sure he said he was a SEAL?”
Monica snorted again. Why did men always think she was so stupid? Was it because she was short? A woman? Blonde?
“Right. Of course you’re sure. Slate?”
For a second, Monica thought he was still talking to her, but when his friend started talking low and fast, she realized he’d somehow asked his buddy a question while only saying his name.
Before she could concentrate on what Slate was saying, Stuart spun her around.
He had a firm grip on her forearms, so she couldn’t reach out and grab one of the many weapons the man had strapped to his chest. Now that she was face-to-face with him, she was even more positive he wasn’t one of the men she’d seen earlier.
But just because he didn’t shoot the door out, that didn’t mean he wasn’t working with the SEAL who had.
This man had a five o’clock shadow…which didn’t detract from his looks.
It only enhanced them. He was tall, although everyone seemed tall to Monica.
She guessed he was at least six feet. Maybe more.
He had dark eyes that were currently fixed on her and his nose was crooked, as if it had been broken at one time.
He also had a furrow in his brow as he stared down at her.
“What?” she blurted, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.
“Can you describe the man who called himself a SEAL?”
Monica thought about that for a second. Could she? She sighed. “Not really. He was older than you. Had on green camo pants and a shirt. His mouth and nose were covered by a cloth or something, and he creeped me out.”
Stuart frowned. Monica had the feeling he wasn’t frowning at her, so much as thinking about something.
“We’ve got about three minutes before that mob gets here,” Slate warned.
The man holding her didn’t look away as he nodded.
“Here’s the deal,” he said calmly. “We need to get the hell out of here. But I have to make sure you aren’t going to shoot me or my friend in the back of the head as we do it.
We’re the good guys. I don’t know who the fuck that other guy claiming to be a SEAL was, but he wasn’t with us.
We’re here because a little boy loved his nanny enough to get up the courage to approach us.
I’d like to keep my promise to that kid—and I need your help in order to do so. ”