times. Why was he feeling so damned scared? What the hell was this all about? He stared at the clock, making mental calculations that it was noon for Bay in Afghanistan. Daytime was safer than nighttime over there. The Taliban struck during the dark hours.
Had he had a precognitive dream about her? One that showed him something that was going to happen to her? The SEAL chief’s phone call last week had made him edgy. Tense. Maybe he was just working that out in his dream state? How the hell did he know? He was no friggin’ shrink.
Standing, Gabe walked out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. He wanted water, his mouth feeling as if it had cotton balls in it. He stood at the sink, filled the glass, tipped it to his lips and slugged down the liquid. Finishing off the glass of water, he set it in the sink, turned and walked into the quiet living room.
Frowning, he felt restless, as if he had something important to do. His mind raced with questions. No answers were forthcoming. Rubbing his face with his hands, he muttered a curse. Dammit, he needed this sleep so badly. The past week, he’d been involved in the swim qualifications down at the SEAL base located on Coronado. He was in the water eight to ten hours a day. If the trained dolphins who protected the ships in the bay weren’t trying to bust his ribs as he put a fake limpet mine on the side of a cruiser’s hull beneath the water, then they were dealing with harbor seals whose duty it was to protect exactly that: the harbor. SEALs trained dolphins and harbor seals to defend and protect all the ships in the San Diego Bay. Whether they were dealing with nuclear-classed submarines, cruisers, a carrier or destroyer, they had been taught to kill an enemy frogman trying to sink a ship in their bay. His ribs were bruised as hell. His partner, Hammer, had busted a couple of ribs when an aggressive dolphin had taken him head-on yesterday. Hammer had lost that round and would be benched for six weeks while the fractures healed.
Looking around the near-dark condo, Gabe couldn’t shake the awful, roiling anxiety roaring through him. He felt his belly tighten, as if he were going to get hit with an unknown fist coming his way. Damn. Maybe a warm shower would help calm him down? It always had in the past.
Just as Gabe emerged from the bathroom, the white towel hanging low on his narrow hips, the phone rang. Looking at his Rolex, he saw it was two in the morning. An unsettled feeling avalanched him. No one called at this time of night. His mind spun with shock as he hurried to the phone sitting on the granite island in the kitchen. The only call he’d receive at this time of morning was....and he angrily shook his head, not going there. No. It wasn’t that phone call. It just couldn’t be....
Grabbing the phone, he growled, “Chief Griffin here.”
“Gabe? This is Chief Phillips.”
He felt all the air getting sucked out of his lungs, stunned to hear the SEAL’s voice calling from Camp Bravo in Afghanistan. Knees weak, Gabe suddenly sat down. “What’s happened to Bay?” he asked, holding the phone so tight his knuckles whitened.
“I’m sorry to call you,” he began heavily. “At noon our time, Mustafa Khogani attacked the village where she was holding a medical clinic. There were twenty Taliban riders, and they swept up through the line where she was helping the women and children.”
“Dammit, is she all right?” he ground out, his breath choking in his throat. Closing his eyes, he heard the SEAL Chief draw in a deep breath as if to fortify himself.
“No, she’s been kidnapped, Gabe. Reza, the terp, saw her shot from behind. Reza told Captain Anderson he recognized Mustafa Khogani on his black stallion come riding up to her. Bay fired at him, hitting him, we think, in the left leg. She was stunned by a Kevlar hit from behind. It threw her forward and to the ground. Khogani leaped off his horse and punched her in the face before she could get a
Had he had a precognitive dream about her? One that showed him something that was going to happen to her? The SEAL chief’s phone call last week had made him edgy. Tense. Maybe he was just working that out in his dream state? How the hell did he know? He was no friggin’ shrink.
Standing, Gabe walked out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. He wanted water, his mouth feeling as if it had cotton balls in it. He stood at the sink, filled the glass, tipped it to his lips and slugged down the liquid. Finishing off the glass of water, he set it in the sink, turned and walked into the quiet living room.
Frowning, he felt restless, as if he had something important to do. His mind raced with questions. No answers were forthcoming. Rubbing his face with his hands, he muttered a curse. Dammit, he needed this sleep so badly. The past week, he’d been involved in the swim qualifications down at the SEAL base located on Coronado. He was in the water eight to ten hours a day. If the trained dolphins who protected the ships in the bay weren’t trying to bust his ribs as he put a fake limpet mine on the side of a cruiser’s hull beneath the water, then they were dealing with harbor seals whose duty it was to protect exactly that: the harbor. SEALs trained dolphins and harbor seals to defend and protect all the ships in the San Diego Bay. Whether they were dealing with nuclear-classed submarines, cruisers, a carrier or destroyer, they had been taught to kill an enemy frogman trying to sink a ship in their bay. His ribs were bruised as hell. His partner, Hammer, had busted a couple of ribs when an aggressive dolphin had taken him head-on yesterday. Hammer had lost that round and would be benched for six weeks while the fractures healed.
Looking around the near-dark condo, Gabe couldn’t shake the awful, roiling anxiety roaring through him. He felt his belly tighten, as if he were going to get hit with an unknown fist coming his way. Damn. Maybe a warm shower would help calm him down? It always had in the past.
Just as Gabe emerged from the bathroom, the white towel hanging low on his narrow hips, the phone rang. Looking at his Rolex, he saw it was two in the morning. An unsettled feeling avalanched him. No one called at this time of night. His mind spun with shock as he hurried to the phone sitting on the granite island in the kitchen. The only call he’d receive at this time of morning was....and he angrily shook his head, not going there. No. It wasn’t that phone call. It just couldn’t be....
Grabbing the phone, he growled, “Chief Griffin here.”
“Gabe? This is Chief Phillips.”
He felt all the air getting sucked out of his lungs, stunned to hear the SEAL’s voice calling from Camp Bravo in Afghanistan. Knees weak, Gabe suddenly sat down. “What’s happened to Bay?” he asked, holding the phone so tight his knuckles whitened.
“I’m sorry to call you,” he began heavily. “At noon our time, Mustafa Khogani attacked the village where she was holding a medical clinic. There were twenty Taliban riders, and they swept up through the line where she was helping the women and children.”
“Dammit, is she all right?” he ground out, his breath choking in his throat. Closing his eyes, he heard the SEAL Chief draw in a deep breath as if to fortify himself.
“No, she’s been kidnapped, Gabe. Reza, the terp, saw her shot from behind. Reza told Captain Anderson he recognized Mustafa Khogani on his black stallion come riding up to her. Bay fired at him, hitting him, we think, in the left leg. She was stunned by a Kevlar hit from behind. It threw her forward and to the ground. Khogani leaped off his horse and punched her in the face before she could get a
Similar Books
