Undercover SEAL Page 14

“There she is!” Dalton shouted, motioning toward the front of the house as he took down two of Munoz’s men. “She’s heading back inside.”

  “Why the hell would she do that?” Nash muttered.

  Dalton didn’t bother to answer the question, too busy focusing on the group of bad guys heading their way.

  Nash raced across the lawn, desperate to catch up to Bristol. Automatic weapon fire from the direction of the beach chewed up the driveway, sending Munoz’s men diving for cover and giving Nash and Dalton time to make it to the house.

  “Keep going after Bristol,” Dalton said, stopping in the doorway and shooting the AK-74 assault back outside. “I’ll keep everyone off your tail.”

  Nash gave him a nod, hoping Dalton knew how much he appreciated what he was doing, then he took off. What the hell was so important that Bristol would run back into a burning building? Had she left something in her bedroom?

  He took the steps two at a time, heavy smoke rolling across the ceiling above him. Nash only prayed he was able to find Bristol before it got worse. Another big explosion nearly knocked him off his feet as the whole building shook. Fire roared as it rushed into the villa.

  Things had just gotten worse.

  Nash reached the top of the stairs when the lights went out. He cursed but kept moving, calling Bristol’s name as he checked each room he got to. He almost shot the first maid that hurried out of one of them, coughing and running for the stairs. He got the woman headed in the right direction, warning her in Spanish to go out the back door.

  “Bristol, where are you?” he shouted as he reached the end of the long corridor full of rooms without finding her.

  She wasn’t up there.

  He ran back the way he’d come, calling her name over and over. He’d almost gotten to the landing when two of Munoz’s men charged up the steps.

  Nash didn’t stop to shoot, Instead, he tackled the two men, sending all three of them tumbling down the stairs. He lost his rifle at some point during the trip, but couldn’t afford to spend time worrying about it.

  The moment they came to a stop at the base of the stairs, he slammed his forehead into one man’s face, then quickly ripped the second guy’s weapon away. Rolling off the pile of arms and legs, he spun around to shoot both men in rapid succession.

  Tossing the empty weapon on the floor, Nash scrambled around until he found his rifle. Shouting Bristol’s name, he sprinted toward the kitchen. Another explosive fireball tore through the walls and ceiling, bringing intense heat and thick smoke with it.

  Shit. This was bad. If he didn’t find Bristol soon, it was going to be too late for both of them. Because Nash sure as hell wasn’t leaving without her.

  He was nearly to the back of the house when he heard coughing. They was no way in hell to identify a person by a cough, but his gut told him it was Bristol.

  “Bristol!” he shouted. “Is that you?”

  There was more coughing. “Yes. I’m back here. I need help!”

  Nash didn’t think his heart could beat any faster, but hearing her voice, and knowing that she needed help, had his pulse racing out of control as he sprinted down the smoke-filled hallway.

  He found Bristol in one of the servant’s bedrooms. Relief coursed through him at the sight of her. She was alive. The urge to run to her, pull her into his arms, and never let her go was overwhelming, but there wasn’t time for that. Bristol was kneeling on the floor beside a barely conscious Isabella.

  The woman’s face was bruised, and she had one arm wrapped around her ribs. Someone had beaten the older woman pretty good. Nash didn’t have to work too hard to figure out who. Leon was an asshole who deserved a bullet in the testicles, followed by one in the chest.

  “Nash! Thank God,” Bristol said when she saw him.

  “How bad is Isabella hurt?” Nash asked, dropping to a knee beside her.

  Breathing was a little easier on the floor where the smoke wasn’t as thick, which was probably the only reason Bristol and Isabella were still alive.

  “I think her ribs are broken,” Bristol said. “I tried to help her, but once the smoke got to her and she started coughing, she couldn’t walk.”

  Nash moved closer to Isabella. “I can carry you, but it’s going to hurt like hell. Are you okay with that?”

  He winced as the older woman succumbed to another bout of coughing that left her crying in pain. Even so, she still looked up at him with grateful eyes and nodded.

  Nash held his rifle out to Bristol. “Have you ever handled a weapon like this?”

  He hated the idea of giving up his weapon, but he couldn’t carry Isabella and defend them at the same time.

  Bristol shook her head as she reluctantly took it from him. “No. Never.”

  “The weapon is already loaded and ready to fire. If you see something bad about to happen, don’t think. Just point and pull the trigger.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “You will if you have to.”

  Gently slipping his arms under Isabella, he scooped her up and got to his feet, then nodded at Bristol. “Let’s go. And stay close.”

  * * * * *

  Bristol didn’t feel very confident about handling a weapon, but she nodded and stepped closer to Nash, ready to follow him anywhere. Against all odds, the man she loved had found her and she was never going to let anything get between them again.

  As she moved with him through the twisting and turning corridors toward the front of the villa, she considered what she’d just said to herself. She loved Nash.

  Loved.

  Not liked him a lot.

  Not merely cared about him.

  Not really appreciated the fact that he’d risked his life for her over and over.

  She loved him deep down inside and in a way she could have never even described until now. It was like she’d suddenly discovered her definition of the word had been horribly incomplete and childishly simple until now. Until she’d met Nash and experienced the real thing.

  Bristol wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him until they were both breathless, but now wasn’t the time. There were flames and smoke everywhere, and they couldn’t take more than a few steps without coughing. The roar of the fire was so loud she couldn’t even hear the shooting outside. Maybe that meant the fighting had stopped. She hoped.

  They were hurrying through the kitchen when a blur of movement caught her eye. She turned her head to see Leon charging at them with a look of pure rage on his face. She tried to get the rifle up and pointed in the right direction, but it was too late.

  Nash must have sensed Leon coming because he turned his shoulder to protect Isabella before the big jackass smashed into him, knocking all three of them to the floor.

  Bristol hit the tile hard, sliding across it and slamming into the marble-topped island. The impact knocked the rifle out of her hands and sent pots, knives, and canisters full of kitchen implements everywhere.

  Somewhere nearby, Isabella cried out in pain as she bounced onto the floor.

  Bristol’s first instinct was to run to her, but one look at Nash and Leon and she changed her mind.

  Leon had come down on top of Nash and already had that damn knife he always carried aimed right at the center of Nash’s chest. Leon shoved with all his weight and it seemed to be taking every ounce of strength for Nash to keep the tip of the blade away from him.

  Bristol scrambled around on the floor for the rifle. She was scared to shoot the thing, but Nash had been right. She could do it if she had to.

  Her hand found the weapon just as someone grabbed her from behind, yanking her away from it. She looked over her shoulder to see Chapman. She fought against his hold, jabbing her elbows into him and kicking with her heels. He merely laughed, knowing he was way too strong for her to do any damage.

  She screamed in frustration, ramming her elbow into his side again, only to freeze when her father walked into the kitchen, a pistol in his hand. Her gaze darted to Nash. While she’d been
dealing with Chapman, Nash had gotten the tip of the knife pointed away from his chest and was now viciously kneeing Leon in the ribs. There was no way he’d be able to deal with both Leon and her father.

  Terrified for him, Bristol struggled harder, twisting around in Chapman’s grip and punching him in the face as hard as she could. Chapman cursed and slapped her, then grabbed a handful of her hair, holding her still.

  “You’re going to need to learn how to be nice to me if you want me to keep your father from killing you,” he warned.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father aim his weapon at Nash. Nearly drowning in fear, she shoved against Chapman’s chest with all her might. It wasn’t enough to push him away, but it gave her more than enough space to lift her knee and slam it into his groin.

  His face twisting in pain, he took his hand out of her hair, but only so he could wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze.

  Bristol started to choke as her air was cut off. She punched and kicked at him, but her efforts didn’t do any good. Chapman was going to kill her.

  But even as everything around her began to go dark, she realized she wasn’t scared for herself. All she could think about was Nash and what was going to happen to him

  A blur of movement off to the right caught her eye and she stared in disbelief as Isabella plunged a big kitchen knife into Chapman’s shoulder. He cried out in pain, immediately releasing Bristol. Twisting around to pull the blade out, he strode toward Isabella.

  Bristol kneeled on the floor, gulping in air and wanting nothing more than to stay right where she was until she could breathe again. But there wasn’t time for that.

  Scrambling to her feet, she reached for the rifle she’d dropped earlier, but the two silver briefcases on the floor were closer. She grabbed one of them and swung it at Chapman as hard as she could. The edge of the metal case caught him on the side of the head and he dropped to the floor, unconscious. Or dead. She didn’t care which.

  Bristol let the case tumble from her numb fingers, grabbing the rifle off the floor. She quickly found the trigger. When she looked up again, what she saw almost stopped her heart.

  Nash and Leon were on their knees, still fighting for control of the knife. Her father was a few feet away, his pistol pointed at Nash’s head.

  If you see something bad about to happen, don’t think. Just point and pull the trigger.

  After saying a quick prayer, that’s what she did.

  The weapon bucked multiple times in her hands, the recoil and noise so much worse than she’d expected that she almost dropped it. She wrapped her finger around the trigger again, ready to shoot when her father turned to look at her, shock on his face. He slowly dropped to his knees, the pistol falling from his hand as his eyes rolled up into his head and he tumbled forward.

  The distraction was all Nash needed. With a rapid twist of his hands, he yanked the knife away from Leon and drove the blade deep into his chest, then twisted it. Leon looked stunned someone had finally stabbed him with his own weapon.

  Then Nash was up and running toward her. “We have to get out of here before we get trapped by the fire.”

  Bristol hadn’t realized how bad the heat and smoke had gotten until then. It was so hot in the kitchen it felt like they were in an oven. She turned to Isabella, expecting to see Chapman lying on the floor where she’d left him, but he’d disappeared. So had the two briefcases.

  Nash quickly picked Isabella up in his arms. “Let’s go.”

  The journey through the fiery house seemed to take forever, and by the time they ran out the front door and moved across the driveway and onto the lawn, Bristol’s throat was raw and burning.

  The outside of the villa looked as horrible as the inside. There were burning trucks and bullet-riddled cars everywhere. Along with a lot of dead bodies. Her father’s men.

  She jerked her head up at the sound of gunshots, and she feared for a second that they’d run from near certain death to another situation just as deadly. But then she realized it was only Dalton and another man with dark blond hair and blue eyes. She didn’t know him, but Dalton did. They were both shooting at a sedan squealing out of the main gate.

  “Who was that?” Nash asked, carefully setting Isabella on the ground and checking her ribs.

  “I thought it was you at first,” the guy with Dalton said with a grin.

  Nash scowled. “I don’t look that much like that asshole, Trent.”

  Trent shrugged. “The guy could be your twin. Besides, at first, I didn’t even see his face. Just a guy running out carrying two briefcases, blood running down the side of his head. When we figured out it wasn’t you, he made a run for it and ended up dropping one of the briefcases getting away.”

  Bristol cursed silently. She hated that Chapman had gotten away.

  She was still standing there watching the house she’d grown up in smolder and slowly crumble to the ground when Nash came over. “We’ll need to get Isabella to a hospital, but she’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded. That was one good thing at least.

  Nash wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry you had to shoot your father.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “It’s something I had to do. For my mother. And for you.”

  All that might have been true, but it didn’t stop the tears from coming. Nash held her close, letting her get it all out.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed before he gently lifted her chin. “I have no idea how long the local cops will wait before showing up out here, but we need to go before they do.”

  Bristol looked one more time at the ruins of the house, then intertwined her fingers with his, her lips curving into a smile. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  YOU DON’T HAVE to be nervous. We’re just a group of friends hanging out.” Nash flashed her a charming grin as he gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll fit right in. I promise.”

  Bristol scanned the grassy expanse of San Diego’s Waterfront Park, past the interactive water fountains and playgrounds to one of the picnic areas, her hand tightening on the colorfully-wrapped doll they’d brought for the birthday girl. There were at least thirty people gathered around the tables, laughing and having a good time.

  She glanced at Nash, surprised at how a single smile from him was enough to make her pulse beat faster. But while she appreciated the gesture and his heartfelt words, she wasn’t so sure if she believed him. She didn’t know if she was ready to handle a big crowd and the questions that would almost certainly come with it.

  She and Nash had only been in San Diego a few days, during which they’d stuck close to his apartment so she could have time to adjust to everything that had happened. She thought she’d been handling it all fairly well, but after they’d gotten to his place and she’d slowed down enough to finally think, everything kind of hit her at once. She cried more tears than she’d shed since her mother had gone missing.

  Nash had been incredible. He’d simply held her close and let her cry it out. Then again, he’d been amazing all along. Whether it was getting her a new American passport, buying her a ticket on a plane bound for San Diego, talking to her family in Connecticut, even arranging to have her mother’s body found and transported to the States, he’d done it all for her. She couldn’t have dealt with any of that stuff on her own.

  But more than that, he’d been the rock she leaned on when everything around her was going insane. It was impossible to explain how important that was and how much she loved him for being there for her. So, when he’d suggested she needed to venture out of the apartment and get some sunshine, she’d agreed, even though she hadn’t wanted to. After all he’d done for her, she could put up with a little social anxiety.

  As she and Nash neared the group of people, Dalton walked over to meet them.

  “Hey, you,” Dalton said, giving her a hug. “It’s good to finally see you out and about. You had us all a little worried.”

  She smiled. Nash’s bra
sh friend had grown on her a lot over the past week. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t ready, but Nash insisted. He said it would be good for me and he hasn’t been wrong yet.”

  Dalton chuckled. “Who would have thought a guy as dim he is could say something intelligent every once in a while?”

  Bristol couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to how these SEALs teased each other all the time. She didn’t have brothers and sisters, but if she had, she liked to think it would be like this.

  “How’s everything back in Manzanillo?” Dalton asked. “Is Isabella doing okay?”

  “She’s doing fine,” Bristol said. “Alejandro is taking good care of her. I think there’s a chance they’ll finally get married, but only if she agrees to run off on Lydia’s Dream with him.”

  They were still laughing about that when Shaw slowly made his way over to them. Nash and Dalton made room so the CIA agent could give her a careful hug. The move was a little awkward, especially with one of his arms in a sling. But that was okay with Bristol. She was glad he was up and walking around. He’d done more than his fair share helping her get out of Mexico along with Nash. She appreciated that. It seemed the CIA appreciated him, too. They’d given him a promotion and a transfer to San Diego.

  “You look better than the last time I saw you,” Nash pointed out, shaking Shaw’s good hand. “Have you started therapy yet?”

  Shaw shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe another week or so. Then the real work will start.”

  “Speaking of work,” Dalton said. “Did you ever figure out what happened to Chapman or that Russian arms dealer who sold Munoz those weapons to begin with?”

  “No.” Shaw frowned. “Both Chapman and Edein Gojkic have completely disappeared off the radar. I imagine they’ll turn up soon enough. People like them always do. In fact, one of my responsibilities at my new job is figuring out where the hell they went and what they’ll do next. I’m praying we don’t see more of those surface-to-air missiles showing up on the black market. That’s enough to make me lose sleep at night.”