Saturday Book Tease
Saturday Book Tease
Action-Packed Military Romance with Rescuing Emma
Sometimes you just need high-octane action with your romance, and who doesn’t love a hot man in uniform?
Meet Outlaw.
It's Emma’s thirtieth birthday…and it might just be her last!
For political journalist Emma Jane Lewis, Captain Nathan James Oliver, code name, Outlaw, represents exactly the kind of man she never wanted to date. Too stubborn, too muscled for her taste. When he and his buddies join her and her girlfriends at a London night club, it gets awkward fast. But something about him draws her in and makes her heart race, despite their rocky start. It's her birthday, after all, and he was handsome and attentive. What could be the harm in enjoying his company?
When Nate meets Emma, the attraction is instant. Something about her pulls him in even though old ghosts haunt him still and his heart remains stuck in the past. But one night of celebration with the contrary Emma is something he can’t resist. When she goes missing, evidence points to Black Jihad, and its leader, Mohammed al-Waleed. Worse, Nate knows it’s his fault she’s been targeted. As Nate and his men search for clues, more is revealed about Emma that sends him reeling, leaving him feeling both angry and betrayed. Can Nate set aside their differences and come to terms with his past in time to save Emma from a brutal death at the hands of a dangerous terrorist?
Welcome to the Green Beret series, Book I, Rescuing Emma.
Chapter One
Captain Nathan James Oliver gave the signal to halt, then dropped low. The five men at his back reacted fast, falling back against the crumbling stone wall of the tall building on their right. Each one maintained formation, guns aimed forward, all except for Hank ‘Hollywood’ Jimenez who brought up the rear. His job was to protect their ‘six’ and he took that job seriously.
“What do you see, Outlaw?” Ghost whispered. He addressed his captain by his code name carefully peering over his leader’s shoulder. Ghost resembled his code name. Diagnosed at birth with a mild form of albinism, his blond hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes made Allen Williamson the target of bullies all his life back home in Washington state. He’d finally found the brotherhood every man needed when he joined the army. His sharp mind and quick thinking led to advancement, and his hard work led to special forces training. Green Berets recruited only the best of the best into the fold.
Nate glanced back at his second-in-command. “Movement at ten o’clock, north side of the street, on the balcony.” He turned back, focusing his night-vision goggles on that spot.
Ghost located the second-floor balcony and saw the barrel of a rifle extending just over the ledge. A potted plant sitting on the rail hid the gunman’s face, but the barrel moved slowly, steadily, right and then left. The guard was surveilling the street below, probably using an infrared scope on the weapon with which to see into the night.
The street was narrow and cobbled, and stretched perpendicular to one of Prague’s main roads. It extended into a defunct neighborhood of crowded pre-WWII buildings more in need of tearing down than repair. Their crumbling exteriors were beyond help and yet people still lived in them because they had nowhere else to go.
Their Special Operations Group, or SOG, had been called in early yesterday morning. An American diplomat’s daughter had been kidnapped from an international school in London. The diplomat, Ambassador Robert Rand, had recently presented new policy from the White House to tighten sanctions on Qatar for human rights violations. The violations came through a small terrorist group, Black Jihad, led by Mohammed al-Waleed. Black Jihad kidnapped five French scientists with the CDC visiting the country to study an outbreak of meningitis in the region. Accusing the west of deliberately causing the outbreak in order to commit genocide on their people, negotiations broke down after Black Jihad beheaded the first scientist, a woman named Lorraine Bujois.
The immediate global outrage sparked public outcry for swift retaliation, but the response by the French president, at least publicly, was subdued. The truth was the negotiations were just a stall tactic until French Special Forces, coordinating with American and British Intelligence, could pin down the location of the hostages and run a rescue operation. They had help from an insider, a Qatarian asset released from jail a year prior. His release came with strings. French authorities coerced Jamal Almasi into collaborating. He was nineteen years old and had been forced into joining Black Jihad under threat of death to his family. The French government used that information against Almasi while simultaneously implying it was also a possible way out—if he worked for them. They allowed his younger sister to enter France under a student visa and enrolled her in university. With his little sister under the eyes of French Intelligence and his mother and father still stuck inside an impoverished village far from the more modern city of Doha, he was caught between a literal rock and a hard place, forced to comply, and terrified Black Jihad would discover his betrayal. His fear made him cautious, and his caution paid off in information passed on to French Intelligence.
Nate’s SOG had been part of that mission slipping into Qatar with the reluctant cooperation of the Qatari government who buckled under threat of severe sanctions to include ending economic aid. The remaining four scientists were found, bound and gagged, inside a sewage tank on the training ground of Black Jihad’s compound located thirty-seven kilometers northwest of the coastal city of Doha. They weren’t expecting the cavalry, a mistake on their part, and a brief, fatal firefight ensued. In the end, sixteen under-armed over-confident terrorists met their maker, and except for one gunshot wound in the leg of one of their French counterparts, the good guys and the remaining hostages all made it out alive. As close quarter battles went, it was a rousing success.
They’d no sooner spent a week back on base before Black Jihad, learning from their own miscalculations, and angry at the betrayal of Qatar, who they suspected aided the western allies against them, struck once again, this time kidnapping a high-profile target, the seven-year-old daughter of an American ambassador. Since Nate’s group was familiar with how and where Black Jihad operated, they were sent back in, this time following their trail to Prague in the Czech Republic—information provided by the informant, Jamal Almasi. They managed to stay on the heels of the kidnappers, and now they were hunkered down against a wall, in the middle of the night, in an impoverished neighborhood inside Eastern Europe.
“I only see one weapon, but there’s sure to be more guards on the first floor,” Ghost offered, staring hard at the three-story apartment building.
“They’ve most certainly fortified themselves this time.” Nate glanced back. “Skyscraper, take the rear of the building. Check for ways in.”
Marcus Dubose, an engineer from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, kept his 6’6” frame low. His ebony skin blended into the night offering him natural camouflage on top of his long-sleeved black jacket, camo pants, and black knit skull cap.
“Roger that,” he answered, moving fast in the shadows and slipping around the back of the crumbling brick wall.
“Eastwood.” Nate addressed his weapons specialist, Harold Tyler. The big man with a reddish beard often went by ‘Dirty Harry’, but in combat, it was too much of a mouthful, so his code name had been shortened to Eastwood. “Get into position and find out how many are inside and what kind of weapons we’re looking at.”
Eastwood nodded, immediately pulling out his thermal imaging binoculars, and hanging them around his neck. He moved past Outlaw and Ghost, sinking low and using the cars parked along the street in front of him as cover.
Behind Nate, Hollywood and Doc, aka Jason Gordon, waited.
“If they’ve harmed that little girl, I’m going to send those bastards straight to hell with my bare hands,” Nate muttered.
“And we’ll help you,” Hollywood added.
Doc grunted. “Let’s hope I don’t have to turn my back on the Hippocratic oath.” He heard Hollywood snort. “Shut up, Hollywood. I know I never actually took the Hippocratic oath. I’m being facetious,” he said, tossing a quick glance in Hollywood’s direction. “Look it up. It starts with an F. As in…” Doc flipped the man the bird.
Nate swallowed hard, his teeth grinding with tension. Penelope Rand was inside, scared to death, in the hands of vicious murderers. He’d seen this scenario played out too many times, but this was the first time for him that it involved a child. Knowing the worst in men, seeing the cruelty, the brutality, the sheer psychopathy they could inflict on humans had him feeling anxious and he didn’t like it. He knew what it was like to lose a child and he’d be damned if he’d let it happen to anyone else if he could help it.
Nate had always been the calm one, the patient one, but he knew every moment that passed was one in which that child would never be able to recover. The sooner they got her out of there, the better. His hand strayed to the black canvas bag clipped to his belt. Inside was a small fuzzy pink teddy bear. Ambassador Rand insisted that Captain Oliver take it with him to give to Penelope when he found her. Their conversation replayed in his mind.
“It’s her favorite bear. His name is Grover. I gave it to her when she was three and she’s slept with him every night since. Give it to her so she knows her daddy sent you. Please!” The desperation in the man’s eyes and the fear on his wife’s face wrenched his heart. Promising to bring her home, Nate took the teddy bear.
“Six, come in.” Skyscraper’s voice came over their earpieces.
“Six here, come back.” Nate replied, acknowledging the code. In every operating unit, the commanding officer was referred to over the radio as ‘six.’
“There are two back doors. One is locked from the inside. It’s located on the far north end. The second is south, near you, and propped open. I found one gunman at that location. He’s neutralized.”
Hollywood grinned. “My man,” he whispered.
Nate nodded to himself. “Good work, Sky. Eastwood, what’re the numbers?” He addressed his man now hidden behind a parked car across the street from the apartment building over the two-way radio.
“One family in the eastern, first floor flat. A male, a female, and two children in a back room, all prone. Probably sleeping. Two males with rifles walking the hallway of the first floor as well. A third near the back, southwest door is down, unmoving. Thanks, Sky. Second floor, no families, but four guards with what appear to be Kalashnikovs, and one at the balcony. There’s a small room in the middle flat, streetside, where one of the four guards is sitting. There’s a child on the floor next to him, unmoving. Third floor is vacant except for the rats, and there is one shooter on the roof, southwest corner, appears to be…sleeping? His hands have slipped from the weapon and he’s not moving. Deep, even breathing. Amateur,” he added.
“Okay,” Nate calculated quickly, and gave the orders. “Eastwood, be our eyes.”
“Copy that,” he said.
Nate addressed Ghost, Doc, and Hollywood. “You three follow me. We’ll meet up with Sky at the southern back door. Stay tight.” He moved, staying low, and keeping on the blind side of the second-floor sniper.
When they reached their destination, Skyscraper was waiting for them.
“You lead,” he told Skyscraper. “We’ll take out the two guards on the first floor, and then proceed to the second floor. Eastwood, where are they now?” Nate asked over the com link.
“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are leaning up against the north hall wall having a smoke. If you come in low, you can take them out before they even see you round the corner.”
Nate nodded and reached forward to grip Skyscraper’s shoulder once. The man moved forward, quickly stepping over the prone body of the guard he’d taken down earlier. A long gash across his throat showed clearly the man never had a chance to raise the alarm.
Ghost, Doc, and Hollywood followed in the stack. Once inside, the close quarter battle would intensify becoming far more dangerous. Each man needed to stay sharp.
Skyscraper arrived at the corner that turned into the main hallway and stopped. Nate halted behind him. He could smell the burning tobacco mixed with the stale scents of mold and decay. Voices, low and speaking in Arabic, reached their ears.
With a nod to his captain, Skyscraper double-checked the silencer on his Glock 9-millimeter. In order to make it through to the second floor undetected, he would need to drop the two hall guards quietly.
Skyscraper eased down and cautiously peeked his head around the corner. The muted lighting from the pre-WWII wall sconces cast shadows down the narrow hall. The building’s age was to their advantage. He took aim and fired.
Four short bursts found their targets before the guards could raise their weapons. The first went sliding down the wall, his hand-rolled cigarette falling from his lips and landing on the old carpet at his feet. The second guard, who was leaning on the wall, tried to rise to a full stand and aim his weapon when two bullets slammed into his body; one in the forehead, the second in his chest. He dropped to his knees and fell forward onto the burning butt snuffing out the ember.
“Targets neutralized,” said Skyscraper. He rose to his feet, waiting for the hand signal on his shoulder.
Nate reached forward, squeezing once. The men at his back did the same. The stack moved into the hall, down past the dead terrorists, to the staircase. “Eastwood, what’s the second-floor situation?” Nate whispered, releasing his com switch and waiting for feedback in his earpiece.
“Movement. One of the hall guards is moving to the stairwell.”
“Shit,” Doc whispered.
“He’s going up,” Eastwood continued.
“Keep me updated,” Nate said before touching Skyscraper’s shoulder.
They ascended the old wooden stairs, exercising care and stepping into each other’s footsteps to avoid the creaks and groans of the worn treads. The door on the second-floor landing stood ajar, a brick holding it open.
“There’s a fire escape to the right and two gunmen to the left; one facing south and the other coming towards your location. The third is still in the flat to your left and the fourth is making his way to the roof. He’s going to find Rip Van Terrorist any moment now. You need to hurry,” Eastwood urged.
“Copy that.” Nate turned to Ghost. “Sky gets the first guard, I’ll drop the south-facing target, and you and Doc take the guard inside the flat. Hollywood, you keep an eye on this stairwell. We may need to fight our way out.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. Ghost and Doc nodded.
“3…2…1…move!” On Nate’s mark, the unit sprang into action, executing the plan.
A tall, bearded terrorist wearing an army-green jacket and a red checkered keffiyeh on his head stopped cold as they emerged from the stairwell. He just managed to get out a short string of words before Skyscraper put two bullets in his head. The second gunman behind him turned. Nate stepped around Skyscraper firing off three quick shots from his own Glock. The silencer muted the sounds of the bullets but couldn’t stop the thunk of a body falling to the floor.
“The inside guard is on his feet, fellas.” Eastwood’s voice came across the com link. He watched through the thermal imaging binoculars as the hazy red figure lifted a device to his face. “He’s alerting the rooftop. Repeat, he’s alerting the rooftop.”
“They know we’re here, boys.” Nate holstered the Glock and swung his SOPMOD M4 rifle in hand. “Time to make some noise. Aim high. Don’t put the girl in any danger.”
“Copy!” Ghost nodded to Doc and then, with one kick, busted in the door to the flat, swinging it wide.
Doc sighted the inside guard and sent him reeling in a short burst of fire. Nate ran in behind them and located the girl. Penelope Rand was curled into a ball on a dirty mattress in the corner of the room. Tear tracks streaked her cheeks. She wasn’t crying now, but her blue eyes were wide with shock. Rage and concern flooded him, and Nate went to her, dropping to his knees and pulling the black bandana down off his face.
“Penelope, I’m Captain Oliver, a friend of your dad’s. He sent me to get you.” He pulled out the pink fuzzy bear from the bag clipped to his belt showing it to her. “I brought Grover to help.”
The girl’s eyes locked onto the toy. Shock gave way to tears as she began to cry. “I want my mommy and daddy,” she whimpered.
“I’m taking you to them. These are my men. Now, I need you to put your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay?” Nate opened his arms, and the girl ran to him, clinging with all her might.
He locked one arm around her and whispered, “Close your eyes, sweetie, and don’t open them until I tell you to, alright? We’re getting out of here.” He stood and headed back into the hall.
“We’ve confiscated their phones,” Skyscraper said, indicating a clear plastic bag with three cellphones inside. “Got their pictures too so command can identify them. This one’s just a kid, for God’s sake.” He pointed at the dead young man lying on the floor who’d been guarding the little girl. He couldn’t have been much more than seventeen.
“Al-Waleed isn’t among them,” Nate said, looking at the faces of the dead.
“Jihadis coming your way, Six.” Eastwood warned.
“Copy that,” said Nate. “Do we have time to get back down the stairs?”
“No. Either shoot your way out or take the fire escape,” he said.
“Damn.” Nate locked eyes with Ghost who, without needing to hear the words, knew Outlaw had already decided the safest route out was down the fire escape. It was for the girl’s own safety. Otherwise, they wouldn’t hesitate to take on the remaining two terrorists.
“Uh, Six?” Eastwood’s voice came over the com link once again. “There’s a jeep coming up the road.” Everyone froze. Eastwood whispered, “And they’re parking in front of the building. There’s one, two, three more coming through the front door, and the family on the first floor is starting to move. You got company, son.” He picked up his night vision goggles training them on the three exiting the jeep. “Son of a bitch! It’s al-Waleed.”
Nate cursed under his breath. “Fire escape, now!”
Ghost, Doc, and Skyscraper reached the window first. Skyscraper threw the locks and lifted the pane. He locked it into place. Ghost and Doc slipped through to the rickety metal landing. They released the ladder. The screech of rusted metal as it rolled down unused tracks sounded loud enough to wake the dead.
“You first, Doc. I don’t think that platform will hold all of us at once.” Nate sent Doc down. Behind them, Hollywood stood next to Outlaw, his M4 trained on the door to the stairwell. He could hear the booted footsteps coming their way.
“Outlaw?”
“Drop anyone who comes through, Hollywood.”
Eastwood chimed in over the com. “The family inside just let al-Waleed in. They’re in the hall. The man from the downstairs flat is communicating via walkie-talkie to the other two about to land on your floor.”
Hollywood tensed. The door swung wide, and a hail of bullets flew. Skyscraper countered on Hollywood’s left, dropping low and taking the first gunman out at the knees. The terrorist behind him held back, taking cover behind the doorway.
“Ghost, get down that ladder!” Nate shouted. As soon as Ghost began his descent, Nate slipped through the window, clutching Penelope to him. “Don’t be afraid, Penelope. I’ve got you. Your mom and dad are waiting for you. I promise you’re going to see them.” His heart pounded, and he prayed he would be able to keep that promise.
Gunfire filled their ears.
“Two men are coming out the front, Six. They’re heading your way.” Eastwood relayed the play by play.
On the ground, Doc and Ghost got into position to defend their location. Nate looked down at his men. It was a twenty-foot drop from the landing. With the child in his arms, his hands weren’t free to climb down or shoot. Time for a change of position.
Squatting down, Nate set Penelope on her feet. He gripped her small shoulders and spoke gently. “I need you to climb onto my back, sweetie, and wrap your arms around my neck. Whatever you do, don’t let go, okay?” He turned, reaching back and pointing. “Up you go, as fast as you can. And keep your eyes closed!”
The fear on the girl’s face did not stop her from listening to Nate. She scrambled up, wrapping herself tight and clinging for dear life. “Good girl, Penelope. We’re going down the ladder now. If you feel yourself starting to slip, just say so and I’ll stop and pull you back up, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered. Rapid fire gunshots inside the building startled the child who whimpered.
“It’s going to be okay.” Nate patted her hands which were locked around his neck, practically choking him. He was proud of her fortitude and in awe she’d managed not to scream. She was a brave girl. She reminded him of Jessica…and Charlie—but he couldn’t think about that now.
He turned and gripped the railing, descending the narrow, rusted-out ladder. Above him, Skyscraper and Hollywood held one terrorist at bay. Below, Ghost and Doc engaged the two that came into view from the corner of the crumbling brick walls. Nate’s heart seized in his chest. He was used to bullets and could deal with it if one struck him, but the idea of Penelope getting caught in the crossfire had him in a near-panic to get to cover quickly.
Doc drew near, putting himself between any incoming bullets and the child on Nate’s back as his captain jumped the last foot off the ladder.
Immediately, Nate turned, swinging his M4 in hand. He touched the com button at his shoulder. “Hollywood, send that bastard to hell.”
A static voice answered. “With pleasure.”
Above, Skyscraper oozed through the window out onto the landing. Hollywood’s leg came through and he was halfway out when Skyscraper dropped down the ladder in one smooth move holding the rails while digging the heels of his boots into the lower, outside railings.
Behind him, Hollywood shouted, “Fire in the hole!” and leaping over the rail, jumped twenty feet to the ground, landing in a practiced roll before covering his head. Skyscraper ducked as did Ghost and Doc. Nate had moved as far from the building as possible pulling Penelope around and into his arms as he hit the dirt, covering her with his body. A loud explosion split the night. Debris rained down; bits of wood, brick, and glass—all potential deadly projectiles.
The two terrorists near the front of the building, who’d been shooting at them, were blown back abruptly. With ears ringing, Nate’s men got up, preparing to run for it. They had a two-block sprint ahead of them to the truck they’d left parked on a residential street. It was on the corner near the main road that would lead them out of Prague. Unfortunately, the two terrorists had also recovered. Shots fired anew.
Ghost and Skyscraper took point with Ghost shouting over his shoulder. “Outlaw, take her around back to the other side. We got these two!”
Nate nodded, tapping Hollywood and Doc as he passed. “You two with me.” They immediately flanked him with Doc in front on point and Hollywood securing their back. Moving fast, they stepped over and around fallen blocks of brick and metal from the fire escape to the backside of the building where they’d initially entered. Working their way south, they cleared the corner coming around to the street. All around them, windows were lighting up as curious neighbors tried to catch a peek at what was going on.
The gunfight continued. Nate, Doc, and Hollywood reached the street, running across and ducking behind a parked car. Nate lowered Penelope to the concrete, running his hands down her arms and legs, checking for wounds.
“You okay? Any pain anywhere?”
She shook her head. “No. But my ears are ringing.”
Nate cupped the sides of her head. “That’ll go away. But you can hear me, right?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
Relief flooded him. The girl was unharmed and responding well, all considered. “I need you to go with my friend here. His name is Doc. He’s a really nice guy. He’s going to take you to the truck. I’ll be right behind you, too, so don’t worry.” He looked over her shoulder at Doc. “Get her to the truck, get it running. I’m gonna help get Skyscraper and Ghost free of that ambush. Hollywood, protect their backs.”
“Always, Outlaw,” he answered.
Penelope looked at Doc who smiled at her, his dimples deepening, a favorite trait of the ladies in his life. The girl smiled back and tentatively reached up, sticking the tip of her finger into one.
“And another one falls,” chuckled Hollywood, shaking his head. “Young, old. Doesn’t matter. The girls love the dimples, Doc.” He shook his head.
Doc snorted. “Blame my mama. She gave ‘em to me. And by the way,” he said to Penelope, “my given name is Jason.”
“I like Doc,” she said.
“Then Doc it is, missy. You ready?” He held out his arms. “We’re gonna need to go fast so that means I’ll have to carry you.”
She stepped into his arms. “Okay, Doc.”
“Okay, then. Let’s roll.” He lifted her and holding her close, took off running. Hollywood followed, protecting their back.
Nate watched them go and then turned, staying low and moving fast up the street. He found Eastwood stationed behind an old green Volkswagon. “It’s time we rescue those two before the entire neighborhood and local police are on us. Ready?”
Eastwood grinned, lifting his rifle, cocked and locked. “About time. I was getting a little bored over here just watching like some kind of pervert.”
“I thought you liked to watch,” Nate chuckled, M4 aimed as they crossed the road coming up behind the two Black Jihad terrorists.
“You ain’t pretty enough for my tastes.”
“That hurt.”
Nate squeezed the trigger and the first man fell forward, surprise forever frozen on his face. The second man turned halfway before Eastwood dropped him.
Ghost and Skyscraper quickly joined them.
“What took you so long?” Ghost asked.
Nate grinned. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get the hell out of here before we have to explain to the local authorities just what we’re doing in Prague.”
As they took off, Nate noticed Eastwood looking towards the front of the building. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Al-Waleed. None of these guys we dropped was him. He’s still in there.”
Nate tensed. He wanted to get the bastard, but there was no time, and they needed to get Penelope Rand out. That was their mission. A snatch and grab rescue operation, not a seek and destroy. Still, it grated. The man had kidnapped a child. He’d also ordered a woman beheaded, a fate he knew might have been Penelope’s had they not found her—or worse. He was a monster and monsters needed to be put down. Al-Waleed would elude them again as he’d been doing for the past year, crossing the unchecked borders in eastern and western Europe. Once upon a time, he’d been all for open borders, but after years of watching terrorists come and go as they please, setting up cells in cities and blowing up innocent civilians with IEDs, he’d long since decided that tight, heavily restricted borders were the answer to help keep the menace of these religious extremists in check.
“Dammit, there’s nothing we can do right now, Eastwood.” He stared hard at the darkened doorway wishing the man would show himself for one moment. That’s all it would take to put a bullet in his skull. A siren in the distance pulled Nate back to the moment.
“We gotta go, Outlaw,” Ghost grabbed his arm.
Shrugging off his second-in-command, Nate turned. His men fell in line behind him, and the stack moved with precision in the shadows to the waiting truck.
Continuing reading Rescuing Emma now!
The Green Beret Box Set (Books 1 - 4)
And…listen to the prequel novella to the Green Beret series, Saving Major Morgan (sneak peek - Click here.) Written by Michele E. Gwynn, Narrated by Ron Phillips.
He promised to come home…
Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Saving-Major-Morgan-Audiobook/B0B9T6XHH4
Amazon: Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Saving-Major-Morgan-Green-Beret/dp/B0B9T7Z9F3/
iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/audiobook/saving-major-morgan-green-beret-series-unabridged/id1644378044