Kidnapped by a SEAL - Makenna Jameison Page 0,13

through Ryker’s veins, thumping in his ears with every heartbeat. He released his breath, ready to go tearing over that goddamn wall himself if they needed him. “Grab her and go,” he said roughly. “We’ll circle around and meet you at the helicopters.”

“Damn it,” one of the men on the Coronado team exclaimed into the headsets. “They’ve rigged this section of the compound with explosives. We have to move out another way.”

“Head over to where we entered on the west side,” Hunter commanded. “We’ll rendezvous there and all exit together.”

“Negative,” Colton interjected. “They’ve laid a tripwire here—probably that jackass that we just killed. We’ll have to go out where Ryker and Noah are positioned.”

“Roger that,” came the reply.

“SITREP?” Hunter asked.

“No movement here,” Ryker said. “Not a goddamn soul in site. I’ll provide cover when you come over the wall in case some other insurgents approach. There’s one dead body on the ground.”

Mason grunted over the headsets. “I’ve got the hostage—let’s move on out.”

There was a muffled sound as the men began moving away, and Ryker heard the sound of a woman and several children wailing in the background.

Jesus Christ.

“Did you find the leader of this goddamn place?” he asked into his mouthpiece.

“Negative,” Colton replied. “He’s either still hunkered down somewhere, hidden, or he managed to escape. No time to stop and check now though—the hostage needs medical treatment.”

“We’re approaching the wall,” Hunter said in a clipped tone. “Don’t fucking shoot us when we come over.”

“Roger that,” Ryker said. “I’ll stand down.”

“Hook, I see you up ahead of us,” Raptor said, calling Hunter by his nickname. “We’re right behind you.”

Ryker saw two hands gripping the top of the wall through his night vision goggles as one of the SEALs began to scale it. A moment later, Jacob was hauling himself atop of it and reaching back to assist.

Ryker glanced over at Noah, who nodded and signaled to him, and then Ryker was running forward to help collect the injured woman. Two other SEALs came flying over the wall, weapons ready, and then Jacob was lowering the woman into Ryker’s arms.

He grunted, dismayed by the sight of the angry gash and lump on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and her face looked far too pale against the shock of her dark brown hair, but then he was turning and moving away with her in his arms. Gunfire sounded in the distance, and he shifted positions, hauling the fragile woman up and over his broad shoulder.

His arm locked around her slender waist, holding her in place, and he jogged toward the waiting helos, not liking the moans that she made.

She was alive though. Secure against his shoulder. No one else would fucking touch her.

And nothing was stopping him from getting her the hell out of there.

Chapter 7

Emily moaned and turned her head to the side, pain shooting through her with the slight movement. Her head throbbed, and nausea roiled through her. They’d found her hiding in that supply hut. Screamed at her in Arabic. Hit her over the head with something.

And now?

Her body jostled with movement, and she whimpered. Were they taking her somewhere else? What has happening?

Someone was carrying her, she realized, someone big.

She blinked, her eyelids fluttering. Strong arms cradled her close to a broad chest, jostling her slightly as the man jogged forward, carrying her as if she weighed nothing.

And what was that strange sound?

A light shone at them in the middle of the darkness, and she caught a brief glance of a U.S. flag stitched onto a desert camo uniform. Deep male voices shouted around her, and she wanted to cry in relief if she could just muster up the strength. She felt safe for the first time in over a month—relieved.

She didn’t know who the man was who held her, or where they were going, but she’d been rescued. Saved.

He held her even tighter as they boarded the helicopter, and he smelled of sweat and the desert and something else distinctively male.

She shut her eyes tightly against the onslaught of pain as she was laid down on the hard floor. The constant whomp, whomp, whomp of the helicopter blades was exacerbating her headache, but she’d listen to that sound all day and night if it meant she was finally on her way to freedom.

Something cold was laid over her forehead, and she shuddered and cried out.

“Easy sweetheart,” a deep voice said. “We’ve got to get the swelling down. It looks like the bleeding has stopped.”

She opened her