Bodyguard SEAL Page 17

  Shit, could this get any worse?

  “Don’t shoot him,” Noah told the cop. “He kidnapped a woman and he’s the only one who knows where she is.”

  The cop glanced at him sideways, then turned his attention back to Moore. “Put down the gun nice and slow and step away.”

  “Do as he says, Scott,” Noah said. “It’s the only way out of this.”

  Moore went back and forth between Noah and the cop, shaking his head.

  The cop’s finger tightened around the trigger. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  Noah bit back a curse. If Moore didn’t surrender soon, the cop was going to take him out. He wouldn’t have any other choice. Noah tensed, ready to tackle Moore and wrestle the weapon from his hands when a gunshot rang out.

  Moore crumpled to the floor, the gun sliding harmlessly out of his grip, blood staining the front of his shirt.

  Noah was on the floor beside him in a flash. He gripped Moore’s chin, turning his head so he could look at him. Moore gazed up at him in shock and confusion.

  “Tell me where Peyton is,” Noah urged.

  “She’s…”

  Moore’s voice was weak, and Noah had to lean close to hear him.

  “She’s in…”

  “She’s where?” Noah demanded.

  Moore didn’t answer.

  Noah lifted his head to see Moore staring up at him with a blank look in his gray eyes. The stupid son of a bitch was dead.

  Shit.

  Noah got to his feet, fear like he’d never felt before gripping him. Around him, TSA agents and his SEAL teammates were trying to calm the gathered crowd even as the cop who’d killed Moore got on the radio to report what had happened.

  How the hell was he supposed to find Peyton now? Scott was dead and none of them had a clue where Magpie was. Hell, Noah wasn’t even sure if he’d know the man when he saw him.

  Noah was just about to call Dwayne for his help when movement over by the TSA security checkpoint made him look that way. It took him a moment to figure out what had caught his attention, but then he saw the tall, dark-haired man stepping calmly through the full body scanner. Any other time, a person moving through security in an airport wouldn’t have attracted notice. But any man walking this casually seconds after someone had been shot dead twenty feet away made you wonder what the hell was going on. The fact that the man matched the general description of Magpie was almost secondary at that point.

  “Stop that man!” Noah shouted, pointing even as he took off in the same direction.

  People started screaming, probably thinking someone else was going to start shooting, but Noah only had eyes for Magpie. The man was walking fast to get away, but with so many people freaking out, it wasn’t like anyone noticed. Certainly not enough for somebody to stop the guy.

  Noah jumped through the body scanner, intent on his target, when a uniformed cop stopped him.

  “Freeze!” the cop shouted, his sidearm coming up even as more people began to scream and run. “Don’t move.”

  Noah slid to a stop, cursing in frustration. Magpie—the only person who might know where Peyton might be—was getting away while a cop stood here slowing him down.

  “The dark-haired guy who just went through security is an international terrorist,” Noah said. “If he disappears, a woman could die!”

  His announcement didn’t faze the cop in the least, nor the other one that joined him, this one carrying a Taser. “Nice story, but if you take another step, my partner will tase you.”

  Noah caught sight of Magpie far away in the panicking crowd. The man turned and gave him a broad smile and a cavalier wave of the hand before disappearing from view. Cursing, Noah tensed, ready to take a swing at the first cop who got close to him.

  He didn’t get the chance.

  Two figures came crashing through the body scanner, taking both cops down to the floor, disarming them at the same time.

  “Go after him before he gets away!” Sam shouted, lying on top of the cop who’d been holding the Taser. “We’ll give you time.”

  Noah glanced at Wes, who was pinning the other cop to the floor. There was no way in hell this didn’t end badly for all of them. But he wasn’t going to waste the sacrifice, even if it did end with him and everyone else going to jail.

  He took off running, people climbing all over each other to get out of his way as he pushed and fought to get to the place where he’d seen Magpie disappear. When he got there, he skidded to a stop, cursing as he realized that the concourse branched off in two directions. Noah didn’t pause to think. He simply turned right and kept running, praying for the best. People in this part of the terminal were far enough away from the insanity in the main concourse that they really had no clue what was going on, but they still stared at him running past them like a psycho. He ignored them and kept going. His knee throbbed with every step, but he ignored that, too, and forced himself to move even faster.

  He reached the last gate at the end of the terminal without seeing anyone close to his target. His gut twisted into knots as he realized he must had taken the wrong direction and would have to backtrack and head toward the other end of the terminal. His heart plummeted when he saw more cops and TSA agents heading his way from that direction. There was no chance he’d be able to slip past them.

  Then a dark-haired man came out of the restroom not ten feet away. Magpie.

  For a moment, Noah considered drawing his 9mm, but instead, he lowered his shoulder and charged.

  The guy barely had time to flinch before Noah slammed into him, tackling him to the ground. Magpie grunted, the air rushing out, and Noah was sure that’d be the end of the fight. After all, Magpie was little more than a frigging glorified investment banker.

  Turns out Noah was wrong.

  Magpie slammed an elbow into the side of Noah’s head, then slithered out from under him like a greased snake, moving so fast he was completely loose before the stars faded from Noah’s vision. Then the man was on his feet, pulling Noah up to punch repeatedly at his throat, eyes, and groin, intent on killing or maiming him…in no particular order.

  Noah fought back by pure instinct, blocking the worst of the blows with his forearms and thighs, getting in his own hits whenever he could. At the edges of his peripheral vision, he could see some people running while others pulled out their cell phones and recorded the fighting. He wanted to think there was something wrong with them, but that was simply how people were these days.

  Another quick glance to the side revealed the cops and TSA agents closing in. Noah knew he had to finish this and get the answers to his questions about Peyton before the cops took that option away from him.

  Noah blocked another ridge hand strike at his throat and countered with a right cross to Magpie’s jaw. The punch should have staggered the man, at least momentarily, but Magpie barely blinked before moving in to drive his knee into Noah’s balls.

  Noah twisted, getting his left leg up in time to block the attack that would have dropped him for sure. On the downside, Magpie’s shot caught him on the side of his injured knee and the pain he felt drove the air from his lungs and darkened his vision.

  Shit.

  He had to end this fight—now.

  Getting his hands on Magpie’s shoulders, Noah smashed his forehead into the bridge of the man’s nose. Magpie began to slide to the floor and Noah was more than happy to let him fall, but the man clung to him. Noah thought he was trying to hold himself up, but then he realized what Magpie was doing and he cursed.

  “He’s got a gun!”

  “Don’t shoot!” Noah shouted, saying the first thing that entered his mind as Magpie backed away, Noah’s 9mm in his hand. “He’s got information vital to national security!”

  For a fraction of a second, Noah thought that might stop the cops from taking out Magpie, but then three shots rang out.

  Noah lunged for Magpie as the man went down. There was almost no chance the man was alive, not after getting hit three
times. But the only wound Noah could see was at the man’s shoulder. One hit out of three shots. Thank God for poor aim. But while the wound didn’t look fatal, it was definitely bleeding heavily.

  “Where’s Peyton?” he demanded, getting a grip in Magpie’s hair and giving him a rough shake as one of the cops slipped in to kick the 9mm aside. “Where is she?”

  Magpie laughed, his eye starting to go blurry. “There’s no way I’m telling you anything, other than to promise you’ll never find her in time.”

  “Damn you! Talk to me!” Noah shouted, shaking Magpie again, but it was already too late. The asshole had fallen into unconsciousness.

  An older cop with sergeant stripes on his sleeve was at his side, pulling Noah away as another began to apply first-aid to the injured man.

  “Who the hell are you? Who the hell is he? And what the hell is going on here?” the cop asked.

  “My name is Noah Bradley. I’m a Navy SEAL.” He ran his hand through his hair. “The guy bleeding on the floor is an international terrorist known as Magpie. He kidnapped Peyton Matthews this morning. Three members of my SEAL Team and I tracked him to the airport, hoping to find out where he left her. You can confirm the terrorist part of this story with Agent Glenn Woods from the Treasury Department at the San Diego field office.”

  The cop regarded him with a frown. “Peyton Matthews, the famous writer? She’s been kidnapped by terrorists?”

  Noah wanted to be surprised that a man as old as the cop new who Peyton was, but at this point, he was too wrung out to be surprised by anything. “Yes, and if Magpie’s last words before he passed out are true, then we don’t have much time to find her.”

  The cop shook his head. “I’m gonna have to call this in to my captain so we can get the feds involved.”

  The officer turned to walk away, pulling out his cell phone and probably starting a long chain of calls that would take hours to get anything done. Hours they didn’t have. A few of the other cops looked Noah’s way, but must have decided if their sergeant was going to ignore him, they would, too.

  Noah dug out his phone, trying to figure out who to call—Woods, Chasen, or Dwayne. He was about to bring up his contact list when he an app icon caught his eye. It was the Find My Phone app Peyton had put on there. He was still staring at the icon when Lane walked up.

  It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Would Moore and Magpie have let Peyton keep her phone? It seemed too impossible to even consider, but still…

  He clicked on the icon and connected to the sight—thankfully, Peyton’s username and password were already filled in or this would never have worked—then waited impatiently for the app to locate her phone. If it said it was at his apartment, he was screwed.

  But the app didn’t point to his apartment. When the map screen first showed up, it was a wide angle shot of the city, then narrowed down until it showed a little red dot…at the San Diego International Airport.

  He resisted the urge to let out a hooyah. Moore could have taken her phone and tossed it into a trash can when he got here, Noah thought as the map continued to zoom in. But when the red spot ended up in the middle of long-term parking, he knew he had something.

  Hooyah.

  Turning on his heel, Noah was ready to take off running back down the terminal until he saw the twenty or so cops and TSA agents standing between him and where he needed to go. And none of them looked like they were interested in letting him walk out of here.

  “I hate to do this, but I need to get out of here—as in five minutes ago,” Noah said, turning back to his Teammate. “Can you distract those cops?”

  Lane looked over Noah’s shoulder, then gave him a grin. “No problem.”

  Without another word, Lane jogged toward the cluster of cops, waving for them to follow him toward the connecting terminal. “I saw some more terrorists this way!”

  While everyone else dived for cover, the cops and TSA agents took off running after Lane. Crap, he was going to be in so much trouble once everyone found out there were no more terrorists. But once again, Noah wasn’t going to waste the sacrifice.

  Noah ran through the terminal and into the main concourse, then out the doors toward long-term parking. He’d never used the Find My Phone app before and he ended up running past the right location by a dozen feet or so before realizing he needed to turn around. Stopping, he scanned the area, taking in the dozen or so vehicles around him. He immediately discounted the pickup truck and minivan and instead focused on the obvious rental cars.

  He pounded frantically on the trunk of each of them with his fist, calling Peyton’s name, then pressing his ear to the lid to see if he heard anything in reply. He muttered a curse after the fourth car. It had to be close to a hundred degrees out here. With the sun beating down like it was, the trunk would feel like a frigging oven.

  He banged on the fifth car, calling Peyton’s name, then putting his ear to the lid. Instead of silence, this time he heard a muffled sound. His heart beat faster in his chest. He’d found her—and she was alive.

  “Hang on!” he called. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

  Running around to the side of the car, he rammed the window with his elbow. The jacket he’d put on to hide the gun he’d been carrying protected his arm from the glass, and he quickly reached in to open the door. Not every car had a way to unlock the trunk from the inside, but he hoped this particular make and model might.

  It didn’t.

  Shit.

  Why the hell hadn’t he thought to search Moore’s pockets for the keys?

  Noah stood and spun around, looking at all the other nearby vehicles. He saw exactly what he was looking for about five rows away—a beat-up old pickup truck with primer spots and a bunch of fish decals in the back window. That’s what he needed—a truck that bellowed of a good ol’ boy.

  He sprinted over to the truck and looked in the back, finding pretty much what one would expect to see in the back of a truck that spent a lot of time in the woods and frequently needed working on. There was a spare tire, a rusted tool box, some lumber, tow ropes, jumper cables, and a shovel.

  Grabbing the shovel, he raced back to the rental car Peyton was trapped in. He shoved the tip under the lid of the trunk, right where the latch was located, and yanked up.

  The first time didn’t work completely, but wedged the trunk open enough so he could jam it in a little further. Shoving hard, he popped the latch of the trunk open with a loud cracking sound. He tossed the tool aside, then quickly lifted up the lid.

  Peyton blinked up at him from the small trunk space, breathing hard, tears in her eyes and her hair and clothes soaked in sweat. One look at her made Noah want to kill Moore all over again.

  Slipping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs, he lifted her out of the trunk and gently set her on her feet. He quickly loosened the knot in the ugly tie Moore had used to gag her with, then went to work on the duct tape around her wrists. That took a little longer because he had to be careful not to hurt her, but as soon as she was free, Peyton threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, smoothing her wet hair with his hand and pressing a kiss to her head.

  “You came for me,” she said against his chest.

  “I’ll always come for you,” he murmured.

  “But how did you find me?” she asked softly.

  “The Find My Phone app.”

  She pulled away enough to look up at him in confusion. “No, I meant how did you even know Scott and Daris had grabbed me?”

  “Oh.” He ran a finger down her cheek, wiping away a tear. “I was with Dwayne when the men who tried to kidnap you last night told him some big city guy who liked to twirl his pen all the time had hired them. I immediately knew it was Moore, especially since I thought he was a jackass the moment I met him. When I went back to the apartment and found the door open, the coffee mugs on the floor in the living room, and you gone, I figured Moore and the other guy had taken you with him. I didn’t kno
w his name was Daris. The U.S. government has been after him for a while, but they call him Magpie.”

  She shuddered. “Scott said he was taking a flight to Mexico. If we hurry, we might be able to stop him.”

  Noah gave her a wry smile. “The cops already took care of that. He’s dead. And Magpie—Daris—has been arrested.”

  She looked shocked for a moment, then nodded. “I’m guessing they’ll find a copy of my book in their luggage, if not on them. Whenever they get around to looking for it.”

  “We’ll tell them in a little bit, but it might take a while to get it out of police and TSA custody.”

  She nodded. “It doesn’t matter. It was a copy. They left my hard drive at your place, so unless someone has messed with it, I’m fine. On the bright side, I did have a lot of time to think about a more dramatic way to end the story while I was lying in that oven of a trunk. I think the readers are really going to like it.”

  Noah pulled her close and hugged her again. “Has anyone ever mentioned you writers are crazy?”

  She laughed and melted into his arms—exactly where he wanted her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PEYTON LAY BACK with a contented sigh, smiling as the sea breeze played with her hair. She’d finished her book and sent it off to Gwen that morning. To celebrate, she and Noah had invited some friends over for an impromptu party so they could all hang out on the beach and enjoy the ocean view.

  Well, she supposed that everyone else was focused on the water. Peyton was more interested in how good Noah looked in those tight Navy-issue swim trunks as he walked out of the ocean to join her and the others in the chairs they’d sat up on the sand. It was damn near impossible not to stare at him. He could put a Roman statue to shame.

  What? It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stop looking at him.

  “How did your medical exam go this morning?” Wes asked as Noah sat down in the chair closest to Peyton, groaning as the mid-day sun began to warm him up.

  “Doc says my knee is responding well to physical therapy,” Noah said with a grin. “And the MRI shows the tear that was there is well on its way to healing. If I don’t do anything stupid for the rest of my medical leave, I should be back to a hundred percent in another three or four weeks.”