They would make it. She was sure of it. They had a love that would transcend hardship and distance.
After all, it had already survived many years and miles between them, and she was sure it would continue to do so.
Epilogue
Six Months Later, Mogadishu, Somalia
“Are you sure we can trust this guy?” Agent Jason Farber asked.
Special Agent Aella Mikos looked over at her partner and fellow undercover operative. “We have no choice. This is the first lead we’ve had on Darko Stjepanić and Zasha Vasiliev in four months. I am not giving up.”
“That’s clear.” He took a hard breath. “Mogadishu isn’t exactly the tourist capital of the world. They don’t like Americans. The last time we lost here, they were dragging bodies through the street.”
“Yeah, I remember,” she said. Black Hawk Down was the single most terrible conflict in this war on terror. The capital of Somalia was located on the coast of the Indian Ocean.
Her gut was tight. It was her asset, and if this went south, it would be on her. Her boss and the ATF put their trust in her, and she wasn’t going to let them down.
As predicted by the orthopedic doctor at Walter Reed, Aella had come through her recovery and physical therapy with a clean bill of health. She couldn’t think about her compound fracture without thinking about Zach “Saint” Bartholomew, but those were old memories, and she cut them off. It wasn’t fair to be focusing on an old lover when she was seeing David Kessler on a steady basis. He wasn’t a SEAL, just a normal, everyday lawyer that she had met at one of the DOJ’s functions. He was safe and interested in supporting her career choices. He made sense to her, but it wasn’t her head that was giving her a hard time…it was her heart. But she couldn’t make emotional choices. Not when it came to her ambitions.
In the distance, she could hear the rumble of a truck. She kept her eyes on the camp in front of her. They were supposed to be exchanging the guns there with a local warlord, Axmed Omar. He had popped up as a threat to the waters in the region, believed to be arming men to start up a pirate hijacking and ransom campaign on the high seas. The military community and NATO had their eyes on him. She only cared about Darko and Zasha. She wanted them bad for what they had done to not only fellow ATF agents, but to 2-Stroke and Chry and to Striker, his team, her, and Saint. Heat flooded her at the thought of the man, but she quickly snapped her mind back into focus. She had to get closer.
“We’ve got to move.” She ran from the scrubby brush cover to a truck, then crouched as her partner covered the short distance. The truck roared into view and stopped just short of the big tent.
“Base, this is Quell. The weapons have arrived.” She got nothing but static. Jason was already sweating profusely in the heat. She tried again. “Base, this is Quell. How copy?” There was a joint team of Federal Government of Somalia soldiers and ATF agents ready to move in once they confirmed the weapons were there.
“What the hell is going on? I don’t like it, Aella.”
“Agreed. I’m going to make sure there are weapons in that truck. Hang here. I’ll be right back and then we’ll back off.”
He nodded. She checked for guards, but their rotation must have taken them out of her sight. All the better for her. She sprinted across the compound, staying close to the edge of the camp and away from the lights. She crouched down as the driver and his passenger got out of the truck and went into the tent.
Aella crept closer, her heart beating, adrenaline rushing into her system. When she was close enough, she dashed to the back and raised the flap. The truck was empty. Oh, damn. This was a trap. She had to warn base.
She made her way back to where she’d left Jason, but as she approached, she saw him sitting against the wheel well of the truck.
She reached him and hissed,” We’ve got to get out of here.”
He didn’t answer.
She turned to him. “This is a trap, Jason.”
When he didn’t respond, she turned around and shook him. He tipped over, his upper body illuminated by the camp lights. He was dead, his eyes open and his throat cut.
She rose, but it was too late.
“Hello, Agent Mikos.”
Aella closed her eyes and spun, her heart hammering and fists clenched, grief, fear, and anger all rolled into one hard ball in her middle. Zasha stood next to Darko, the warlord on the other side of her.
“I heard you were looking for us. Tag, you’re it.”
Someone grabbed her from behind, and she went into fighting mode. She spun and punched him, and he went down, grabbing his nose and writhing. More men came at her and she fought them with fists and feet, but they soon overwhelmed her.
They immobilized her arms, then her legs, taking her down to the ground. Breathing hard, she looked up at Zasha, Darko, and Axmed. The warlord smiled. “Yes, I will take her in trade. I think she will be a great asset to me. This concludes our transaction.”
Zasha bent down and smiled, grabbing a handful of Aella’s hair, yanking it painfully as she pulled her head up. “Enjoy your stay. Everyone is dying to get to know you…” She dropped her head and rose. She and Darko walked away.
All of this had been about her?
Damn them. They were going to leave her in this man’s hands. She had no doubt what he would do to her. She’d rather they had killed her.
2-Stroke walked into the ready room and took a seat. He’d had several no deployed weeks with Chry. He’d given her several rides on his Harley Star. She was full out planning their wedding and had decided not to continue as their liaison. A new guy had been assigned, Terrance Duncan, but he went by Terry. He was good, but he damn well wasn’t Chry. Kat Cross, married to Team 7’s Orion “Wicked” Cross from Ruckus’s team, had offered Chry an analyst job, and she was thrilled to be back behind the computer. She told him she was a better analyst than she was an operative.
Dean and 2-Stroke continued to be baffled by all that money. So, his brother was going to do some investigation as to the source and why it was beneath their floorboards. Knowing Dean “Striker” Teller like he did, 2-Stroke had no doubt his brother would suss it out and solve the mystery.
Saint came in along with Dodger. They were laughing, and he was sure it was something that Dodger had said. Sometimes, he didn’t even mean to be funny.
2-Stroke pulled out his sketchbook. He’d have to buy another one, as he’d filled up most of the pages. He was doing other art at home, and Chry loved his renderings. He enjoyed it.
He started to sketch Dodger. Fast Lane, Dragon, and Mad Max entered, Jugs bounding into the room chasing a ball that Fast Lane had thrown. Pitbull walked in followed by Hemingway. His and Shea’s wedding was coming up this summer. He sat down next to 2-Stroke and looked over at the sketch. “Isn’t his head a little bigger than that?”
2-Stroke chuckled.
“What did you say, mate?” Dodger narrowed his eyes at Hemingway and raised his fists. “Do you want me to rethink being best man?”
Hemingway chuckled and flipped him off.
Colonel Jackson came into the room with Terry. “Listen up,” he said.
Terry clicked on the screen and started talking. “We’ve just gotten word that Special Agent Aella Mikos has been captured and is being held by this man.” He put up her slide, then a second slide next to hers. 2-Stroke straightened. Everyone at the table stared at the slides. “This, gentlemen, is Axmed Omar. He is the new self-proclaimed ruler of the seas. He’s procured two high-powered ships that he intends to deploy on the Indian Ocean, once more threatening international shipping.” He put up a third and fourth slide. “He purchased them from these two arms dealers—”