In His Arms Again: An Elite SEAL Rescue (Elite Texas SEALs Book 1) Read online

  In His Arms Again

  An Elite SEAL Rescue

  Holly Castillo

  Contents

  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

  1

  “Make way! Make way!”

  Doctor Emeline Diaz’s head jerked up as two men rushed through the opened tent flap carrying a motionless woman on a stretcher. “Stats?” Em quickly fell into step with them, directing them towards a cot at the far end of the tent. Patients lined the cramped space, some lying down on the few cots they had, or stretchers on the ground, while some stood and some sat. She placed her stethoscope over the woman’s heart, listening to the soft but steady beat as one of the men carrying the stretcher answered.

  “Collapsed on the bridge. They’ve been walking for over a month. The husband said she's at least six months pregnant. BP is ninety over fifty, pulse sixty-five. Unresponsive.”

  As soon they had transferred the woman to the fresh cot, Em moved in, grabbing the supplies she needed and flagging down one of the nurses to join her. Within seconds she had put on her gloves and, with some difficulty, inserted a needle into her patient’s arm to open up a line for an IV.

  “Yes, Doctor Diaz?” Katie came over at Em’s signal. Young and freckle-faced, she had the kind of talent and drive to learn that would help her advance quickly in the challenging place like they were in.

  “I need two bags hanging, lines wide open. She’s a hard stick, with signs of dehydration, which is probably why she passed out. Get that started and I’m going to check her baby.”

  The nurse nodded and moved to take over where Em had left off. Em pulled a wheeled curtain divider in front of the woman so they had a little privacy, then lifted her patient’s skirt and slid her underwear down her legs. A quick check showed no signs of early labor, and relief rolled over her. Em sat back, changing her gloves for a fresh pair and carefully restoring her patient’s clothing.

  Premature labor had become far too common a risk for the women they were seeing. Most had been walking in the heat for miles, battling dehydration. Em’s hands moved slowly over her young patient’s stomach, pressing gently to check the position of the baby. She couldn’t help but smile as a firm kick hit her palm. The woman moaned and her eyes opened slowly, the dark brown gaze going from confused to fearful in a heartbeat.

  “No tengas miedo. Don’t be afraid.” Em soothed her, taking one of the woman’s hands in her own. She continued speaking in rapid Spanish. “You fainted on the bridge. You were dehydrated.”

  “Mi bebé? My baby?” Her gaze became frightened once more.

  “Your baby is fine. Strong, too!” Em smiled reassuringly at her. “You’ll need to stay here for a couple of hours, but then you can go. I’ll get your husband to come to be with you." She cast a glance at the nurse, who nodded in understanding and left in search of the man.

  Relieved tears slid down the young woman’s cheeks and she squeezed Em’s hand tightly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You’re the first friendly face I’ve seen in a very long time.”

  Em’s heart squeezed painfully. She had heard the same comment more often than she wanted to remember. Her patients were tough, resilient, and she had no doubt they would somehow survive the current crisis. But Venezuela had become a disaster zone, and people were flocking across the Simón Bolívar bridge into Cúcuta, Colombia by the thousands every day. Now night approached rapidly, and the bridge would close until the morning. Em hurried to the small desk and receiving area that she, the two other doctors, and two nurses used to process their paperwork. They also kept the antiquated computer there that allowed them to stay in touch with the leader of their relief effort, currently stationed on the US Navy Hospital Ship located off the coast.

  They had debated their options for a long time, wondering whether going deep into the country made sense. They’d thought to stay in the safety of the harbor. But when they saw most of the patients in the worse condition had traveled through Cúcuta on their way to finding a new life, they knew they needed people as close to ground zero as possible. A second-year resident at Seton Hospital in Austin, Texas at the time, Em had been one of the first to volunteer to travel to the hazardous region in the jungle of Colombia.

  Now, far away from Austin, sweat trickled down her back as she navigated to her email. She was grateful they had internet and even service for their cell phones. The conditions in the camp were rough, but it could have been far, far worse.

  The program opened after several long seconds, revealing a message from their director. She scanned it, noting the supplies coming their way soon, but greeted the last few sentences with a heavy sigh.

  Dr. Diaz, you’ve been a valuable resource to the team, but as per your contract, your time is coming to a close. Make the best of your last two weeks. I’m certain your family will be happy to have you home soon.

  She couldn’t believe a full year had already flown by. When she had first reviewed the contract, a year in a foreign country had seemed impossible to fathom. Going home now would be bittersweet. Em sat down and started to write her regular status update on the clinic and her growing list of recommendations for the new doctor taking her place. The message took longer to compose than she wanted. By the time she finally looked up from her work, night had fallen, and most of the patients had been processed out of the clinic by the rest of the staff. Thank goodness. Finally, a chance to rest my aching back and feet—if only for a little while. They would all have some much-needed rest after a long and grueling day.

  Screams split the night air, quickly drowned out by the sound of rapid gunfire. Em froze, her heart leaping in her throat before hammering violently. She raced for the tent flap, her chair falling backward. A moment later, the rest of the staff and the few remaining patients who could stand on their own joined her. Bursts of light in the darkness illuminated the barrels of the guns being fired. The lights of the city behind them only provided a pale glow, just enough to see they were under attack.

  “What’s happening? What is it?” Katie gasped. Em’s mind raced. It couldn’t be the Venezuelan army. But the Colombian guerillas had been increasingly active in their attacks on Venezuela and were aggressively moving in on several states. Em had believed their team would be safe on the Colombian side of the river. She swallowed hard as the gunfire drew closer and realized how horribly naïve she had been.

  Frozen, she lost precious time before her brain kicked into gear. “Everyone take shelter! Get the patients and take cover!”

  “Dr. Diaz, we’re in a tent. There is nowhere to hide.” Doctor Abrams, the usual calm voice in their hectic world, had become very pale.

  “There must be a way. We just have to get creative.” Sudden inspiration struck and she began shouting out orders, even though Dr. Abrams was supposed to be the one in charge.

  “Get under the stretchers, pull the curtain rods around you, hide within the tent flaps. Go!”

  Gunfire erupted dangerously close by, and the people around her scattered. Her mind racing, Em ran back to her desk. She tapped out a new message. Under attack. Send help. She fired off the message, her fingers trembling. She had to hide.

  Her computer exploded in front of her. Em cried out in surprise, throwing her arms up in front of her face to protect it from fl
ying glass and particles. She lowered her arms, her shakes making her teeth chatter, though she lifted her chin in a show of determination. “You aren’t welcome here,” she said in Spanish, glaring at the guerilla soldier standing at the entrance to their clinic, his automatic rifle pointed at her.

  A small smile flitted across his lips. “You doctor?” he asked in broken English.

  “Yes. Now leave.”

  His smile broadened. “Good. Now you help. Play nice, eh? I don’t want kill you.”

  Em swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “How may I help?”

  Jackson Reyes sighed heavily and leaned back in his hammock, enjoying the sunny day in Coronado, California. The cold beer in his hand made things even better. He stretched out his left leg, still stiff from his last mission. He'd been thrilled when training had been canceled that morning; not his usual reaction. But it gave him an extra day to nurse his leg and get back in top form—well, his new definition of top form.

  He always enjoyed working with his fellow SEALs, even in mind and body-numbing training. The past few weeks in Syria with them day and night would tide him over just fine as he recovered. A few days of R&R after a delicate mission was what he needed more than anything. He smiled as he brought the beer bottle to his lips, remembering the downtime on the mission as they all teased and bantered to stay alert.

  His cell phone buzzed on the table next to him, and he groaned when he saw the caller ID. His commanding officer wouldn’t be calling him on a down day unless something had happened. It came with the territory—he always had to be ready to go whenever a threat somewhere had been identified.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Jax, a new mission has come up. Urgent. I need you to get to Hebbronville, Texas ASAP to meet up with a SEAL team stationed there. They’re undercover, Stryker Salas is the team leader. I’ll send you coordinates.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be out the door in ten.”

  “Jax…you and I go back a long way. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d send someone else on this one You’re one of the best on the team, and it’s going to take some of your specialized skills to take care of this one.” His Commanding Officer’s voice had gotten tense and deeper than his usual baritone.

  "What am I walking into, David?" Jax set his beer bottle on the table and stood his body tense. David Peterson and he had met during BUDs. David had been the instructor and had taken a lot of delight in getting in Jax’s face and shouting. They’d been close from the moment Jax graduated BUDs.

  “It’s Em, Jax. She’s in trouble. Insurgents have taken over her encampment.”

  Memories slammed into him like a tidal wave of whispered promises, gentle sighs, and soft lips. He’d tried to erase her from his mind, but his memory had betrayed him. Now it gave him back all the images of Em with her long, dark hair, her golden-hazel eyes, and perfectly kissable lips. Then he recalled even more—her scent, her laugh, the feeling of her skin.

  His hand clenched into a fist. “Not a problem, David. I put her out of my life ten years ago. I’ll be ready for transport from the base in fifteen. It’ll be good to be back in Texas.”

  David drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Good. I knew I could count on you. I've already arranged for your transport. As your CO I have complete confidence in you. As your friend…remember that forgiveness can be a good thing.” David, nearly eight years his senior, clearly hoped to deliver some of his wisdom. He’d played a key role in helping Jax get over the pain Em had inflicted on his heart.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. She made a choice and it turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Hell, maybe I should thank her when I see her.”

  “You forget I was there when you struggled the most.”

  “Yeah, well, your memory is going with age. Thanks for the heads-up, David. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Em Diaz means nothing to me. I’ll get the details on the rescue mission when I’m with my new team.”

  “Shut up,” David chuckled. “Just don’t get shot on this mission, okay? I know you think the scars are sexy, but I don’t think I can live through another one of those phone calls from a hospital half a world away.”

  Jax grinned. “It’s been over a year since the last time.” Subconsciously he rubbed the puckered gunshot scar on his left thigh.

  “Let’s make sure we keep the streak going, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Want anything from Texas?”

  “A wife would be nice. Haven’t been able to find any women outside of Texas that meet all my requirements.”

  Jax laughed. "There aren't many women in Texas who meet all of your requirements, either. Your standards are insane. Face it, you’re going to die a lonely man.”

  David snorted on the other end of the line. “You aren’t any better. Stay safe, Jax. And, uh… Give forgiveness a chance. You may be surprised.”

  2

  Something about Texas always put a smile on Jackson’s face. The air smelled cleaner, the sky seemed brighter, and something seemed to buzz around him, telling him he’d come home. Driving into the countryside, surrounded by mesquite trees and miles of road that looked like it led to nowhere, welcomed him the same as the heat wrapped around him.

  He had been assigned a truck when he landed at the airport in Laredo, an hour away from Hebbronville. Now he raced it down the long stretch of highway before taking several county roads that finally wound around to a smaller dirt road. A few miles of teeth-jarring potholes later he arrived at a large metal gate, the name “Bent Horseshoe Ranch” welded across the top.

  He hit the button on the keypad and within seconds a man’s voice came through, asking for his name, rank, and serial number. Clearly, I'm in the right place. The gate buzzed open after a pause—likely his credentials being confirmed—and he drove up a long driveway that led to a giant ranch house.

  His eyes scanned the exterior of the building as he walked up to the door. A lot of effort had gone into making sure no one knew a sprawling house existed until you were right on top of it. Satellite pictures of the place would only reveal part of the roof and a lot of foliage.

  He hadn’t finished knocking when the door flew open and the man who stood in front of him rivaled Jax in height and build. “Glad to have you here, Jax. Your CO says great things about you. I’m Stryker.”

  Jax shook Stryker’s outstretched hand. “I thought about saluting you first, sir, just in case you think I’m disrespecting you.”

  Stryker laughed. “We don’t salute around here, sailor. If we did we wouldn’t get anything accomplished.” He kept his hand locked around Jax’s and pulled him into the house, clapping another hand on his back. “How does it feel to be back in Texas?”

  “Good. There’s something in the air that feels like home.”

  “That would be the cow shit.” Another man met them in the dining room, a grin on his face. “Nothing compares to that delightful fragrance permeating the air.” The man looked like a giant, towering over Jax’s six-foot-three.

  “Jax, this is Buzz, our tech and communications guru. He’s also a city boy, so he’s trying to adjust to the idea of living on a working ranch.”

  Several more men wandered into the large dining room, and Jax shook hands with Phantom, Santo, Snap, Brusco, and Lobo. “I never thought the day would come when we’d have a SEAL team placed in Texas.”

  “We’re not really here.” Santo sat next to Buzz at the table, though his gaze continued assessing Jax.

  “Stryker and Phantom are the only ones who aren’t really here.” Snap grinned. “Their off with their women more often than here with us.”

  “Jealous much?” Stryker grunted. “And I’m not always off with our vet. Part of our cover is a working ranch, and I’m going to make sure we make it believable.”

  Jax had heard all about the women who had captured the hearts of two of the toughest warriors he’d ever known in his entire SEAL career. Still, he wanted to give Stryker a hard time. “Why wouldn’t you wa
nt to build a relationship with a vet? Isn’t that a great connection?”

  Brusco started laughing. “Naw, man. Not a veteran. A veterinarian. As in an animal doctor. Our fearless leader seems to have fallen head over heels for the local veterinarian.”

  Jax lifted an eyebrow. “About time you found a woman who can put up with an animal like you.”

  The table erupted in laughter at Stryker’s expense, and though he tried to look pissed, the hint of a smile played on his lips. He shook his head at his team and turned his gaze to Jax. “She just happens to be one of the best veterinarians in south Texas. It’s a business thing. I have to work with her to take care of the cattle.”

  “Right,” Snap drawled. “That explains so much.”

  “Let’s not forget about Phantom and Elena.” Brusco cast a mischievous glance in Phantom’s direction.

  “Moving on,” Stryker said firmly, a signal Jax recognized. The time for joking around had passed, and the muscles in his neck tensed with apprehension. What he’d been briefed on so far already had him anticipating a challenging mission ahead. “This is a special mission coming to us through Coronado instead of the Admiral. As you all know, the situations between Venezuela and Colombia have been getting worse, and the mass exodus of Venezuelan refugees is overwhelming border cities in Colombia. We’re already sending aid, and the Navy Hospital Ship is docked off the shores of Colombia.

  “Last year a decision was made to open a small medical clinic in Cúcuta, not far from the Simón Bolívar bridge where a majority of the Venezuelans are crossing into Colombia. At twenty-one-hundred hours last night, the medical director on the Hospital Ship received a distressed email from Dr. Emeline Diaz that Cúcuta was under attack by Colombian guerillas.”