Iceman (SEAL Team Tier 1), page 1
ICEMAN
SEAL TEAM TIER 1
ZOE DAWSON
Iceman
Copyright © 2022 by Karen Alarie
Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Squad Glossary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Glossary
About the Author
OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, especially Lisa Fournier and William Passmore for their excellent help. As always, you guys are the best.
Death comes—it is always arriving for someone.
Encyclopedia.com
SQUAD GLOSSARY
Ruckus’s Squad – Tier 2 Operators
Books 1-8
Lieutenant Ruckus “Bowie” Cooper
Ashe “Kid Chaos” Wilder
Wes “Cowboy” McGraw
Thorn “Tank” Hunt – MWDs: Echo and Bronte
Ocean “Blue” Beckett
Arlo “Scarecrow” Porter
Orion “Wicked” Cross
Jude “Hollywood” Lock
Fast Lane’s Squad
Books 9-16
Ryuu “Dragon” Shannon
Errol “Pitbull” Ballentine
Atticus “Hemingway” Sinclair
Max “Mad Max” Keegan – MWD: Juggernaut, (Jugs)
Oliver “Artful Dodger” Graham
Neo “2-Stroke” Teller
Zach “Saint” Bartholomew
Lieutenant Ford “Fast Lane” Nixon
Rock’s Squad
Books 17-24
Lieutenant Adrian “Rock” Lane (Previous CO)
Milo “Professor” Prescott
Lieutenant Elias “Joker” Jackman (Current CO)
Zephirin “Gator” LaBauve
Callen “Blitz” Berenger
Andrew (Drew) “D-Day” Nolan
Mateo “Zorro” Martinez
Sam “Buck” Buckard
Dakota “Bear” Locklear – MWD: Flint
Iceman’s Squad – Tier 1 Operators
Books 1-8
Master Chief Christopher (Kit) “Iceman” Snow
Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael
Remington “GQ” Nash
Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta
Archer “Hazard” Booth
Cooper (Skully) “Skull” Sullivan – MWD: Bonesaw (Bones)
Carter “Boomer” Findley
Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin
Tex’s Squad - Tier 2 Operators
Books 1-8
Lieutenant Michael “Tex” Penn
Angelo “Bondo” Zane
Matthew “Easy” Hitchcock
Bale “Shark” Maddox
Shane “Twister” Reeves
Kade “Dagger” Hollis
Christian “Brawler” Beckett - MWD: Beast
Jae “Flash” Shaw
For terrorism survivors both the victims and loved ones.
1
Somewhere off the Coast of Somailia
Mary Jo Klein entered the data on the last analysis of the coral samples they had taken. The data would help them to understand the effect climate was having on the vast coral reefs in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden, an area that encompassed Djibouti, Egypt, Eritrea, Israel, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Sudan, and western Yemen. These reefs accounted for 5.3 percent of the total global area of coral reefs. Approximately thirty-seven million people benefited from the reefs, including eight and a half million who were dependent on them for food or livelihood. She was currently on the R/V Ellen Browning Scripps, the research vessel named after the benefactor of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography. They were on the last leg of their research mission about sixteen nautical miles off the coast of Somalia.
Mary Jo was dedicated to becoming an oceanographer and to do that, she needed experience in not only research projects but the vast sea itself. She had no fear of the deep blue water that stretched from horizon to horizon or the many unknowns below the surface, but this particular stretch of water made her a bit nervous. The area saw its fair share of smuggling and illegal fishing, but it was piracy that made it some of the most dangerous water in the world.
In fact, she had been so sure her parents would have pulled her school funding if they knew she was out here, she’d lied and told them she was headed for fieldwork in Fiji.
Of course, every crew member and research scientist were aware of the procedures for handling piracy. A few years ago, pirates operated freely, capturing hostages and demanding huge ransoms. They caused havoc in seaside communities and disrupted fishing and the transport of goods.
But lately, there had been only a few incidents after the military might of the US and UK, along with thirty-one other countries, got involved to curb any attempts to hijack and kidnap crews. She and her colleagues, including faculty, were confident there would be no danger and this work was important.
She looked out on the vast ocean; she knew land was just beyond the horizon, but she couldn’t see the coastline. MJ shivered thinking how close she was to the place where so many American soldiers had been brutally killed by Somali rebels while trying to aid the UN forces in stabilizing the civil unrest.
MJ was young, not yet born, when the infamous Black Hawk Down conflict had exploded, but her dad was a San Diego Police Department. SWAT Division commander, and she understood the sacrifices of those who kept the peace, whether in the streets of San Diego or the world.
She rose from the deck chair, closing the top of her laptop. Stretching her back, she decided to get herself a shower, then some food. The sun and wind and salt from the water had made her both hungry and thirsty, the humidity causing her to perspire.
Something small and dark caught her attention out on the water. Something that was moving fast. She walked to the railing and peered out, shading her eyes from the punishing sun. She froze, and despite the heat, a chill ran down her spine, adrenaline spiking into her belly.
It wasn’t just one small boat, but two. She ran back to her backpack and pulled out some binoculars. Rushing again to the railing, she put them to her eyes and the magnification showed her the crew’s worst nightmare.
Pirates.
She wasted no time, but hurried to her backpack, stuffing in her precious laptop and the binoculars. She headed for the bridge at a run. Navigating the stairs two at a time, she burst through the door. “Captain Walters! There are two small crafts speeding toward us on the port side of the ship. The men are armed.”
“What?” He walked toward the left side of the ship with his own binoculars. “I’ll be damned.” He grabbed the ship’s mic and started issuing orders, namely the predetermined security measures in place.
He turned to her and said, “Go to your stateroom and lock the door. Do not come out until I tell you to. Is that clear, MJ?”
“Yes, sir,” she said and headed for the door down to the lower deck and the entrance to the staterooms. She was almost there when she realized that she had forgotten her backpack up on the bridge. She couldn’t let all that data be destroyed. It was months of hard work. She pivoted and ran back to the bridge. The captain and the crew were still on the port side of the ship when she grabbed her bag.
The chilling sound of automatic weapons discharging in the distance made her stop. Just as she jerked her head around to look out the bridge window, the glass cracked from a shower of bullets. The sound of gunfire was interrupted by a scream as one of the men outside disappeared from sight.
To her horror, men with semiautomatics approached the bridge from the starboard side. They had flanked them. Not sure why she was doing it, she grabbed one of the portable radios and hightailed it back the way she had come. She bypassed her stateroom. It’s the first place these dangerous men would look, and as a woman, young and pretty, she was at great risk. She ran almost all the way to the back of the ship to a small storage closet that was rarely used. She knew that because she had had a brief fling with one of the male students, and they would grab some alone time there. She hadn’t been down here in a while because he had flown home for an emergency, but she remembered the door wasn’t visible from the hall. It was tucked away so that no one hardly knew it was there.
MJ ducked inside as she heard more screams, closing it carefully and locking the door. She backed to the wall where there was a small porthole that she could look out of. She and her lover had kept a small lamp here, so
Panting from the fear and the quick run, she slid down the wall and closed her eyes. She couldn’t lose it. People were depending on her. She knew that channel 16 was monitored by the Coast Guard and she wasn’t anywhere near the coast of the US, but the Navy may have that channel monitored for distress calls. She had no choice. She could only pray that the pirates hadn’t gotten to the point of worrying about radios.
She set the radio to that setting and depressed the switch to activate it.
“Mayday, this is the R/V Ellen Browning Scripps. We have been boarded by hostile men. Please help us.”
She let go of the switch and waited several moments. Nothing happened. She took a deep breath and repeated her message.
Still no answer. When she was about to try again, a male voice came over the radio. “R/V Scripps. This is the USS Tuffin. We have received your mayday.”
She closed her eyes and let out a hard breath. The US Navy was the most powerful Navy on the planet. If they couldn’t help them, no one could.
Commander Seth McNamara stood on the bridge of the USS Tuffin, an Arleigh Burke-class missile destroyer patrolling the waters of the Gulf of Aden, Guardafui Channel, and the Somali Sea. He looked at the communications officer. “Find the transponder of that ship before the hostiles shut it off.” He took the radio the man offered. “R/V Scripps, this is Commander McNamara. Do you have your coordinates?”
“Just a minute,” the soft female voice said. She was obviously afraid, but her tone was firm. “Okay, I know we were approximately sixteen nautical miles off the coast. Almost smack dab in the middle of Somalia’s coastline.”
“Okay, let us get your position. Stay off this channel. Go to channel four. Conserve your battery. I will contact you with any updates. Tuffin out.”
They would need the elite of the elite and that meant Tier 1 operators, part of the Naval Special Warfare Development Group abbreviated as DEVGRU, formerly known as SEAL Team Six. DEVGRU was divided into color-coded line squadrons. Red, Blue, Gold, Silver, Black, Gray, Orange, and their recruiting team, Green.
He paced away from the radio station, then turned back. “Get me Command.”
United States Embassy, Niamey, Niger
Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow was busy turning the United States Embassy in Niger’s security over to the new Regional Security Officer or RSO. He was heading back to Virginia Beach, but his first thought was he wasn’t ready to go. The way CIA Officer Rose Sinema looked at him, there was power in her that reached out and grabbed a man by his balls. He still felt like they were in a vise.
The last two times he had seen her, she’d been in rough shape. The mission to support Lieutenant Ford “Fast Lane” Nixon’s team in Somalia had led them to rescuing her and Fast Lane’s ex-wife, Solace Mitchell. Rose had sustained a concussion when Zasha Vasiliev and her men had shelled the special ops base. Yet she had held him off with a sidearm until she had passed out from the trauma. Gutsy woman.
His eight-man team, part of DEVGRU’s Orange Squadron and known as the Wolfpack, the emblem of a wolf with Born Wild on the distinctive patch, was called on again to assist in finding and rescuing Fast Lane, Solace, and two flight crew members who had been shot down in the jagged peaks of the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan, then taken hostage by the notorious Zasha Vasiliev, who had a vendetta against Fast Lane and his team. During that mission, Rose had been affected by the aftermath of Fast Lane’s team’s ambush and the injuries of three of his teammates. It was clear she had been crying and was second-guessing herself all over the map. She had been beautiful, exhausted, and vulnerable. Ice was a detached bastard, but when it came to taking advantage of a situation with a woman who had already burrowed under his skin, his conscience would have crucified him.
But during this mission…she had looked rested, kick-ass ready. Too bad their time always seemed to run out. Like it had just now.
“How about we head out for a bite, and you can fill me in,” the new RSO said.
Ice had a ride waiting for him, and he had no time for food. “Sorry, just the debrief. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
The man nodded and just as Ice opened his mouth to begin, his phone rang.
He held up a finger and stepped away from the RSO.
“Go for Ice.”
It was his commanding officer. “Chris, we have a situation. We’ll need your team.”
“They’re on a commercial flight—”
“No. They’re not. They were pulled. There’s a military transport waiting for you. You’re jumping into the Gulf of Aden.”
Iceman disconnected the call.
Just another day at the office.
When Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael had been yanked off his commercial flight along with the rest of the team, he figured something intense was going down. As he walked across the tarmac, he couldn’t stop looking back at the airport where CIA Shadowguard Luna “Karasu” Shimora was most likely leaving. He had made the decision to get the hell out of Niamey without talking to her or saying goodbye. It was too difficult, knocking him out of his Zen zone where he needed to be. But she tested every damn part of his decision to keep his distance from the Shadowguard. He had a feeling the next time he saw that woman—and fate was just that kind of bitch to make sure it happened—he would be in some serious trouble.
That kiss only made him want so much more.
The fact that she had come to the airport looking for him told him that she was as enthralled with him as he was with her. He could sense she was fighting as hard as she could against it.
“What the hell is going on?” Remington “GQ” Nash asked, rubbing at his face. “I was looking forward to sleeping all the way home.”
“No idea. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough and you can get your beauty rest, pretty boy,” Carter “Boomer” Finley said with a chuckle.
GQ flipped him off with a grin. “No amount of sleep is going to make those grizzled features of yours any better looking.”
“I don’t know,” Cooper “Skull” Sullivan said, his dark eyes flashing. “Chicks dig older guys. They say men get better with age.”
“That’s a fact,” Boomer snickered and fist-bumped Skull. “Young whippersnappers don’t have a clue.”
GQ turned, and walking backward, he double saluted him.
Boomer laughed, throwing his arm around Skull’s neck and squeezing.
They loaded into the belly of the plane and stowed their gear. Not more than ten minutes later, Iceman boarded.
“No rest for the wicked,” Archer “Hazard” Granger said.
“Echo One is in the house,” Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta yelled in his deep baritone.
“Heya, boss. Where we going?” Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin asked.
“Gulf of Arden,” Iceman responded.
“Pirates, argh,” Boomer said in a raspy tone. “Guess they’ve got a date with Davy Jones’s Locker. Those boys don’t learn.”
“No,” Iceman said with his steely, piercing pale blue eyes. “Let’s go teach them a lesson.”
MJ was curled up in a ball, her senses keen, shaking from the fear and trauma of hearing those men brutalize her colleagues. There had been gunfire and yelling and screaming. It was all quiet now. It had gotten dark while she was huddled in the closet waiting for a response from the commander of the USS Tuffin.
She didn’t dare make a sound. But she realized that whoever they were going to send over would want a count of the men onboard. Since it was dark, she could go take a peek and have the information ready. She found a dark hoodie in the corner her lover must have left and put it on over her clothes.
