Into the Storm, page 20
He glanced at his watch. It was after nine. They had three hours to find the SEALs and get into position to make this work. “We just need to know where the team is.”
“Not to worry. George tells us right here where they are.” She tapped another drawing, the last ones at the bottom of the page. He could hear the excitement in her voice. The elation. She was enjoying this moment. But then, so was he.
George was a damned miracle.
Or would be, as long as he was able to slip into the lodge as planned.
“Where are they?”
“See this drawing? It’s a famous petroglyph on Vancouver Island. Well, the head of one. Not the whole body, or it would be obvious to anyone who looked it’s a representation of a seal. George is being careful, and he knows I’ll recognize it.”
“Okay, a seal symbol makes sense, but why the donkey?” It wasn’t even a petroglyph-style donkey like the other line drawings. No, this one looked like Eeyore, and it had the number “277” written on the animal’s rear.
Even in dim light, her grin was radiant. “George is fucking brilliant.” She tapped the number. “That’s the archaeological site number of an ancient, rusting steam donkey that’s about a mile from here. A left over from early twentieth-century logging. George is telling us the SEAL team is in the forest somewhere near the donkey.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Audrey described the route they would need to take as best she could without a map. They were heading into an area they’d ignored so far, as it was high on the hill above the lodge and cabins they’d explored last night, and on the opposite side of the lake from where they’d camped today.
As a remote meeting point for SEALs, she supposed it made sense. It was far from the complex of buildings and roads that provided infrastructure to the lodge, and upslope so they’d have a good vantage point to view the lodge and lake from the top of a tree. A hiking trail passed within a half mile of the area, making the area one that was usually only accessed by hard-core backcountry hikers.
Audrey figured George had provided just the general area. The odds that the SEAL team was sitting on the donkey sled were slim, but the basic direction was all they’d need, Xavier assured her. He knew how to connect with the team.
It was nearing ten p.m.—or twenty-two hundred in military parlance—when Xavier let out a birdcall that received an answer.
Even in the dark, Audrey could see the shift in his posture when the soft whistles carried on the night wind.
He raised a hand in signal to halt, and she froze in place, barely able to breathe.
A moment later, a second call came, this one different. Xavier answered, also using a new cadence.
Another response followed, and Xavier sagged back against a tree. “Thank fucking god. Flyte’s here.”
Seeing his reaction triggered the burn of tears, which she quickly swiped away. She would not be the emotional female in this reunion of hypermasculine special forces operators.
Still, she fought the burning sensation and her nose tingled as a Black man emerged from behind a tree and greeted Xavier with a handshake. “Shit, Rivera. I was braced for the worst.”
Xavier’s voice was a low whisper. “Same, Lieutenant. And I’m still afraid it might be for the others.”
She cursed her overloaded pregnancy hormones and stifled the last of her reaction as Xavier introduced her. “Dr. Audrey Kendrick, this is Lieutenant Chris Flyte.”
He’d flipped up his NVGs, so she could see his eyes, but the rest of him was decked out in full combat gear. She shook his gloved hand, then followed him into the SEAL team’s lair, Xavier and another SEAL falling in line behind them.
They’d set up a headquarters of sorts in an alcove created by a large fallen tree that draped at an angle as it was propped up by a large, thriving Douglas fir. Sheets of moss provided cover that had been embellished with ferns and forest-patterned camouflage sheets.
“We’ve got two men patrolling. One in a tree on lookout. He caught you with his NVGs ten minutes ago.” One corner of Flyte’s mouth curled up. “If I were grading you, Mr. Rivera, that would be a fail.”
She knew the official address for a warrant officer was “mister,” but it sounded odd to her ears given the military hierarchy present. This was her first time seeing Xavier in this element. She could swear his posture was straighter. He’d let her see his pained shoulder, his unpolished edges. But none of that would be on display here.
She felt a surge of emotion at the realization Xavier had let her see beneath the surface to the wounded SEAL.
She shoved her feelings aside and paid attention to the report Flyte gave Xavier. As a commissioned officer, the lieutenant held the higher rank, but it was possible Xavier was in charge here because he’d been in command of the training exercise.
She settled on a log as she tried to make sense of the jargon. Flyte’s team had found a dead body in the woods with a broken neck, and Xavier pointed to the weapons he’d acquired from that encounter. Her belly twisted when Flyte reported that one Fire Team never made it to the rendezvous and had yet to be located.
Xavier let out a low curse that was echoed by Flyte and others in the circle.
“On a positive note, we have a ghost who took out two tangos when he blew up a boat earlier.”
Never in her life had she imagined she would smile at hearing a boat explosion on Lake Olympus had killed two men, but her life had changed a lot in the last thirty-plus hours. “Good job, George,” she whispered.
Flyte did a double take. “You know the ghost?”
She nodded and met the man’s gaze. “Even better, I know where he is now and what he’s planning.”
And with that, Xavier began his report. The team gathered to strategize their assault on the lodge armed with three match guns, an assortment of Molotov cocktails, two pistols, and one assault rifle, in addition to two dozen handguns and rifles loaded with paint pellets.
Jae wasn’t a fan of going against his boss’s wishes, but he’d been getting the runaround all day from both the park hierarchy and the Navy. Luke Sevick was equally fed up with Navy brass. When both the park and the Navy refused to offer up a key to the gate, they came up with their own plan.
It wasn’t complex by any means. It was as basic as possible. An hour before the first light of dawn, Jae and Luke were going to drive to a trailhead for a loop that included Mount Olympus. One section of the trail came within five miles of Lake Olympus Lodge as the crow flies. It was a gruesome, nasty, backwoods five miles that went up and over a ridgeline before descending into the lake basin, but it was as close as they could get without road access.
With no real word on what had happened to Audrey and stonewalling from the Navy, it was the right thing to do. The superintendent admitted the lock shouldn’t have been changed, but he wasn’t doing enough to push back against the military powers that be.
Audrey’s SUV could have slipped off the road in the storm, and no one was looking for her. He and Luke would change that. Something just wasn’t right.
No way would Xavier fail to reach out if Audrey had been stranded at the lodge. He’d know Jae would worry.
The lack of contact meant something had gone terribly wrong. For Audrey, and maybe even for Xavier.
There was a lengthy debate on what do to with Audrey while the team moved in on the lodge, and Xavier knew she was ticked that absolutely no one considered her opinion on the matter. Not even him. But in the end, she’d accepted their decision and agreed to the plan.
Much as he wanted to leave her safe in the deep woods, it was safer to stick as close together as possible. Leaving her by the donkey sled hideout would mean having to send someone back for her after the lodge was secured, and that only invited more risk.
So she made her way toward the lodge with the team and would take cover in the post office that was attached to the museum across the street from the lodge, where she’d wait out the battle alone.
They couldn’t spare a man to protect her, not even injured Xavier. They were thirteen strong, moving in to rescue their fellow SEALs—five trainers and, they hoped, four SEALs.
They had to be ready to strike when George set off his lightbulbs.
Audrey insisted a SEAL take her Glock. They needed bullets more than she did. She had a paintball gun and a Molotov cocktail to defend herself should she be spotted by one of the mercs.
Xavier felt sick at the plan, but it was the only option. She couldn’t storm the lodge with the team. That would be far riskier.
He accompanied her to the back door of the post office. With a SEAL watching his six, he quickly picked the lock and pushed the door open.
He followed her into the small back room and did a fast search of the mail bins and under the tables, ensuring the space was empty. He didn’t have time for more.
“I’ll come for you once we have the lodge.”
“Watch out for George.”
He nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. He faced her and placed a hand at the back of her neck. She was trembling.
It was a punch in the gut to feel the physical manifestation of her fear, but he understood it. This wasn’t her world.
Hell, it shouldn’t even be his anymore.
“When this is over…” He shook his head, unable to say the words.
If you’ll let me, I’m going to love you like you deserve. I’m going to do everything I can to be a man worthy of you.
Instead, he pressed his mouth to hers. She opened her lips, and he slid his tongue inside for a deep, intimate kiss that ended far too soon.
He released her and headed for the heavy wood door. “Bar the door behind me. You know the knock.”
If Xavier wasn’t able to retrieve her, Flyte or one of his men would. They all knew the knock pattern.
Without looking back, he left her in the tiny, musty post office and slipped into the woods to take his position with the team. In twenty minutes, the most important op of his life would begin, with nothing less than his future family at stake.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The back room of the stamp-sized post office was what one would expect for an office that was only open for four hours twice a week during the off-season. Audrey figured they’d committed a federal crime by breaking in, but Xavier had wanted her inside the log structure because the thick log walls were as close to bulletproof as possible and there was only one small window at the front, which was inset in the door.
It was a tiny fortress.
But the thick walls and lack of windows also meant Audrey couldn’t see what was happening outside, just a hundred yards away.
The next hour was destined to be the longest of her life as she would wait and wonder if the father of her unborn child would return.
And then there was George. He’d more than proven he was an adversary for the mercenaries who’d invaded his forest, but he didn’t have body armor like the SEALs, and it had been more than fifty years since he’d fought in a war.
It was useless to pace such a small room, so she dropped down in a corner and wrapped her arms around her knees. But it didn’t take long for shivering to overtake her, and she was back on her feet.
She was nauseated and dizzy. She needed to eat, but knew without a doubt that she’d vomit up anything she put in her mouth.
How the hell did Xavier and the others do this sort of thing?
This was their job.
She’d always respected the men and women who served in the military, but this was the first time she’d ever faced the reality of their world.
She’d spent hours chatting with Undine’s husband, Luke, and even knew a bit about what he’d done when an old Russian nuke—a Cold War leftover—had been found in the Strait of Juan de Fuca a few years ago. But even that threat—which could have resulted in a massive tsunami that would have wiped out the Pacific Northwest—hadn’t held this level of tangible fear, because she’d heard about it more than a year after the danger had passed.
Now she understood in a way that she never could have grasped before. This was even worse than last night, when she’d paced and talked to the baby alone in the Jamison cabin.
Last night, she’d believed she was safe and Xavier would be back in a matter of hours. Tonight, she knew that improvised bombs would begin to go off in a matter of minutes.
What if she was wrong in her interpretation of George’s note? What if he hadn’t been able to enter the lodge and the bigfoot door was locked and guarded?
Sure, she’d been right about the donkey engine, but that had been easy. Lightbulbs in the library was a bigger leap.
This was the world’s worst game of Clue.
Time moved with aching slowness as she committed more federal crimes by looking at the stack of mail in the “undeliverable” bin.
Even though there were no windows for light to leak through, she used the red-tipped flashlight to read the envelopes.
This was a rotten invasion of privacy, but it was keeping her from losing her mind.
She paused on an envelope addressed to Jeb. “Addressee unknown” was written in his messy scrawl. She knew his handwriting from the numerous times he’d petitioned her office to step in and use the National Historic Preservation Act to prevent something from happening in the park.
Jeb would always be a mystery now, and her grief at never really having known him grew.
She left the stacks of mail and slipped into the front of the post office. She’d been in this vestibule many times. The entire building—including the attached museum—was a contributing element to the National Register Historic District. But never had the tiny space seemed so…ominous.
Across the street, a battle would be waged in a matter of minutes. And it wasn’t just any battle, it was potentially the first salvo of a Russian invasion of American soil.
Take away everything personal about it, and it was still gut-wrenchingly terrifying.
This was a meticulously planned assault on a United States special operations team on US soil. It didn’t get more dire than that.
Add in the personal aspects, and she could barely breathe.
She’d wanted her baby from the moment she’d realized she was pregnant, and now, after a month of heartache and turmoil, she had a new truth: she wanted Xavier with the same ferocity.
And she could lose him. Tonight. In a matter of minutes. And there was nothing she could do about it. She’d played every card she had already.
Then there was George, who’d been something of a mentor to her along with Roy when she was young, and who’d become a friend in adulthood. If any of them survived this, it would be thanks to George. His cunning. His knowledge. His badass guerilla fighting skills that he’d acquired a lifetime ago in a foreign land, forced to serve in the military by a government that had betrayed his people for hundreds of years.
George was an artist. A carver of totem poles and other Native art—yet there was no monument great enough that could fully honor him.
She swiped at tears that fell without permission. She wanted to blame pregnancy again, but this was straight-up fear. She’d be crying now even if she weren’t pregnant.
She returned to the back room and locked the door that separated the two areas. She stood behind the wall of post office boxes—a grid of cubbyholes, with each rectangle measuring five by four inches. There was a box for each cottage, plus extra for local businesses and renters who wanted a coveted Lake Olympus address. George’s cabin had a box, as did tour operators who held park concession contracts, but were based in Port Angeles.
Audrey scanned the boxes. Jeb’s box—identifiable because “McCutcheon” was printed on a label taped to the back end of the cubbyhole—contained a grocery store mailer, junk mail that couldn’t be avoided even in the most remote of places, and a notice from the US Navy that access to Lake Olympus Road would be cut off as of Monday of this week—four days ago, given that they were now minutes into Friday morning.
The Navy had been required to send these notices in a timely manner to all inholding property owners, but now it occurred to her to wonder, did everyone with a PO Box receive a notice?
She checked the rental boxes for tour operators and felt a surge of adrenaline at seeing the same notice. These groups didn’t have a gate key and wouldn’t be able to access their box until the road opened, but they’d received the same notice as all box renters.
But…not everyone who owned a box collected their mail from here. There were forwarding services for PO Boxes to deliver to street addresses. What if someone had learned of the training and managed to get a box, then had the mail forwarded?
It could explain the leak of the timing for the training, without Jeb or someone else playing the role of traitor.
Deep down, Audrey didn’t want Jeb to be a traitor. Even unwitting as he would have been. Partly because she hated the idea of him being killed by the very men he’d unintentionally abetted.
Not that it mattered. He was dead either way. But there was something a little extra horrific at the idea of being duped into sharing information and then being killed by the same people who’d manipulated him.
She continued with her lawbreaking, going through the mail of each box, not for any purpose, but to pass the seconds that ticked away to the moment she both anticipated and feared.
Still, the clock hands on the wall behind her moved achingly slow, yet somehow, she found herself lost in emotional spirals that made her lose track of time.
It was during one such lost brain spiral that she heard the first explosion.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Light flared behind the second-floor library window as the first roar of explosives split the air.
Like fireworks, more booms followed, each lighting the night before the other had fully faded. Xavier didn’t know how George did it, but he’d managed to rig his lightbulb igniters in a series so they went off in succession.
