Rescuing Olivia (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Nightshade Book 1) Read online

  Tears rolled down Baylee’s cheeks, and Olivia blinked at what she’d said. By the time they’d finished. Oh, hell. Her own pain was forgotten for the moment as she pulled Baylee to her again. They both wept, but Olivia could feel how her friend shivered and clung to her.

  Those fucking bastards…

  “You did what you had to do, Baylee. Look at me.” The younger woman pulled back, still sobbing. Olivia realized that blood was dripping down Baylee’s arm, and her alarm spiked. There was nothing she could do for herself, but Baylee needed care.

  “Let me see your face,” Olivia told her softly. “What did they do to you?”

  Baylee untaped the pad, and Olivia gasped softly. Baylee’s beautiful face had been sliced from her temple to her cheek, then down her jaw to her neck. There was a second cut across the bridge of her nose and up through her right eyebrow. It looked like a dull knife had been used, so the edges weren’t clean. That was why the blood was still flowing.

  “We have to stitch this closed. As soon as possible.”

  Olivia glanced around, realizing for the first time that there were dark-clad bodies on the floor. When she looked at Baylee, the younger woman shrugged, her eyes chilling. “They weren’t watching. I grabbed the knife and cut one’s throat with a wild swing when I turned around, and shoved it in the gut of the other with the same knife. They left their guns on the floor when they, well…”

  She glanced away, and Olivia didn’t like the way she dropped her eyes, as if in shame. “Look at me,” she snapped. Baylee glanced up at the sharp words, her eyes wide. “You did what you needed to do,” Olivia repeated. “There is no shame in that. And there’s no shame in protecting yourself. I’m proud of everything you’ve done.”

  Another blast rocked the building, and they braced their arms over their heads. “Get me a suture kit. And some local. Why are these blasts going off?”

  “Not sure,” Baylee said, moving carefully to the far cabinet. “It started about thirty minutes ago. Just random blasts. The Taliban have been running around like crazy, trying to figure out who it is.”

  Olivia glanced down at her leg, nausea churning her stomach. The thought of the damage beneath the bandages… And with the tourniquet on, she was almost guaranteed an amputation, assuming she didn’t go septic before she could get care.

  Another blast shook Nightshade, sending dust swirling.

  Baylee handed her the suture kit, and a couple of vials of local anesthetic, then took a minute to drag her attackers over to the corner, where several other bodies lay. She flung a sheet over the pile and returned to push the gurney toward Olivia. She placed an aluminum room partition on top of the gurney, to shelter them from some of the falling debris. Lastly, she grabbed the men’s weapons, tucking them within reach as she crawled in and sat down gingerly beside Olivia. “How do you want me, boss?”

  There was a glimmer of humor in her eyes, and Olivia latched onto it. “Lay down and rest your head here, baby. I’m not a surgeon, but I’ve done my fair share of scrub hemming. We’ll get you pulled together in no time.”

  By the time she reached the end of Baylee’s cuts, more than fifteen minutes and three tremendous explosions had elapsed, and Olivia was ready to keel over. Her leg was throbbing, and she didn’t know what to do for it. Obviously, Baylee had injected local anesthetic into her leg. Or maybe Ropivacaine. It would last longer. She was afraid to ask, but she needed to.

  Baylee had to shift a few times, and once she bumped the weapon into Olivia’s leg. There was an odd grinding feeling from her leg, more sensed than felt, and nausea churned. Focus, Olivia. “Thank you for putting the strap below the knee. It will make it easier to fit a prosthetic.”

  Baylee gasped, and tears immediately rolled from the corners of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

  Olivia tied off the last stitch, looking down into her eyes. “We’re going to survive this, one way or another. Now, did you have a cut on the back of your arm as well? It was dripping.”

  Baylee rolled onto her side and Olivia cleaned and stitched the gash. Her eyesight was going in and out. It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do until they were rescued. Then they sat together under the room partition and gurney, cradling the weapons to their middles. “It’s been too long since they’ve been here,” Baylee murmured.

  “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  Olivia fought to keep her eyes open. Her head was swimming with the effects of the drugs Baylee had pumped into her, but she knew the pain would be excruciating if she hadn’t. Right now, it was echoes of pain, from her head more than her leg. All she wanted to do was lay down and pass out, let the pain fade away. But it wasn’t going to be that easy. She was immobile, so she was going to have to fight her way out of this situation. She didn’t see the Taliban just giving up or running away.

  Another blast shook the building, and she ducked her head. It was already throbbing so bad, and every blast sent a fresh percussion wave through her. Luckily, she’d already puked up everything in her stomach.

  There was a spate of gunfire, then it sounded like a group of men yelling Pashtun that they needed to evacuate before they were killed. Then running boot steps were coming closer. “They’re coming this way.”

  Her hand tightened on the weapon in her arms, and Baylee did the same. In unison, they lifted the weapons to their shoulders and aimed down the barrels. They had no ear protection in and she had no idea how many bullets were in the enemy weapon, but she would run the fucker dry for what they had done.

  If she had to die, this was the way she wanted to go.

  The men cleared the doorway and Baylee was the first to open fire. From their position beneath the gurney, they laid down a line of gunfire across the men’s lower bodies. Baylee was aiming more deliberately, and Olivia didn’t blame her. Man after man fell, which made it easier for them to fire kill shots. Baylee’s gun clicked empty first, then her own. For a moment, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears, then the pounding of her heartbeat in her head.

  Baylee pushed the gurney away and stood, crossing to the pile of Taliban bodies at the door. The English speaker was not there, but Olivia could see the others that had been with him. Leaning down, Baylee snatched up one of the enemy weapons, aiming it at the men. But no one moved.

  Baylee had a vicious gleam in her eye as she stared at one man in particular, and Olivia couldn’t blame her. If they had raped her, she would probably relish shooting men in the dicks as well.

  There was a rustle down the hallway and Baylee drew back, rifle going to her shoulder. It wasn’t a Taliban, though. Olivia recognized the American uniform.

  “Don’t shoot, Baylee!”

  But the other woman had already lowered her weapon, recognizing the uniform as well.

  Olivia could tell that the man that entered was different from everyone else on Nightshade. The uniform was different but obviously American, and he wore a helmet with scopes on it, or night vision goggles. He also carried a Colt M4A1, which Special Forces preferred. Grinning at Baylee, he held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

  “I’m American,” the man said, raspy voice strong, and with a hint of twang. “Thought you all might want to get out of here.”

  Olivia blinked and tried to take in the words. She was numb at this point, dealing with the pain trying to eat her and the shock of what had gone on. The entire past six hours were a horrific blur in her mind.

  A second man came in behind him, then a third. They were all dressed differently, but similar, in that they all wore American military attire, but different pieces. Were they SEALs?

  Baylee was saying something to them, but Olivia was too far away to hear what she said. When all eyes turned to her, though, she had a feeling she knew. The man in the lead walked over to her little cave and knelt in front of her. Carefully, he reached out and took the weapon from her arms. “You don’t need this anymore, Lieutenant. We’re going to take care of you.”

  Olivia blinked, looking down at her fingers wrapped around the barrel of the weapon. They were clutched so tight. “But what if they come back?” she whispered.

  The man gave her a gentle smile as he pulled it away, and his brown eyes were earnest. “We’ve made sure they won’t come back. And the other lieutenant has as well.” He nodded his chin toward the doorway. “My name is Ghost, and my team and I are going to get you out of here, okay?”

  She stared at the man, his words sinking in, before she nodded. “Yes. Are there others? Please tell me we aren’t the only ones that survived.”

  He nodded quickly. “There are others. We have medics working on them now.”

  “Baylee,” Olivia said, a little louder, “can you go help them? Check on the team.”

  Baylee looked at her for a long moment, then straightened her beaten body. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Once Baylee left, she looked at the soldier kneeling in front of her. Her composure weakened. “We tried,” she said, her voice tight. “But they came in and shot everyone not medical personnel. I don’t know what’s happened to my people.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she knew it was shock.

  “I know,” the man said, voice low. He reached out a hand and took her own, squeezing. “It will take us a while to figure it all out. Right now, though, we need to get you in the air and out of the country.”

  A tear dripped down her cheek, then another. Olivia was shocked at her loss of composure, but she couldn’t seem to stop them from falling. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry,” she whispered.

  The soldier leaned forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, careful not to jostle her leg. The hug hurt because of all the metal crap and armor he was wearing, but she needed the moment to get her emotions under control. She pulled
back, looking up at him. “Thank you, Ghost. Are you guys SEALs?”

  He scoffed. “Those weanies? Nah…” He turned to shove the gurneys out of the way and clear a path to the door.

  A glimmer of humor rolled through her. Who would dare call SEALs weanies?

  Delta.

  Within half an hour, Olivia started to hear helicopter rotors overhead. They really had saved Nightshade. It had to have been a massive undertaking, country-wide, to liberate all the bases that had been under attack. And they were down the list in order of importance.

  She was very carefully lifted onto a gurney and strapped down. Baylee added some sedative to her IV and moved her carefully into an area of the ward that had been cleared of the dead. The bloodstains were there, though, solid reminders of what had occurred.

  A man more massive than the rest checked on her, introducing himself as Truck, a medic. It was obvious why he was called that, because he was so big. But there was a gnarly scar down his left cheek. It looked fairly fresh, though the wound was sealed over. His touch was gentle as he checked her tourniquet and the bandages underneath it.

  “You’re on the first ride out of here, LT,” he said gruffly, leaning over to look her in the eyes.

  “It’s that bad, huh?” She knew she was on a definite timeline. If the leg didn’t come off soon, it would turn gangrenous, and she would go septic.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the soldier told her reluctantly, “but you have a clear path out of here. We’re going to take care of the rest of your team.”

  Olivia blinked, a lassitude beginning to roll over her, but she reached out to him. She reached out to brush her hand across his scar. “Baylee was attacked, and her stitches need redone before she scars too bad. I did my best, but I was working under duress…” She lost track of her words for a second. “The bastards raped her, but she killed them.”

  Truck turned to look behind himself, then he leaned back over her. “I’ll get her to take a minute. She’s working on the wounded right now, and she probably needs that focus right now.”

  Olivia nodded a little. “Rex was shot, and Trent.”

  “Rex is doing what he can, as well. Trent didn’t make it.”

  Yeah, she had expected that. He’d been critical when they’d let him go. She’d seen Myrna’s body as they’d rolled her out of the surgical room. It had been shoved to the side with the other dead patients. And she’s seen a flash of blond curls that might have been Santana.

  The loss was going to be bad, and in a way, she was glad to escape. Even though she was going to lose her leg. It was so minimal. At least she wasn’t one of the dead being shoved into a corner.

  It was getting harder to keep her eyes open. “Keep my team together, please, Truck.”

  The harsh-faced man gave her a surprisingly gentle smile. “I’ll do the best I can, lieutenant. Now,” he said, fitting her with an oxygen canula, “close your eyes and know that things are going to change for you, but you will survive it. Do you understand me? You will survive.”

  “Yes, I will survive,” she breathed, and her world went dark.

  CHAPTER 1

  If the truck had hit her head on, it would have been an entirely different scenario. As it was, it hit her rear driver’s side quarter panel – she’d just seen a flash of red— before the world went crazy. It sent her SUV spinning, the seatbelt tightening painfully on her chest. She held the steering wheel, but there was no controlling the six thousand pounds of rubber and metal as it hurtled through space. Holding the wheel in an iron grip, she prayed the spinning would stop. And it did. When it slammed into something.

  Pain rolled through her body, radiating out from her ribs. Her head had hit something, because it hurt when she lifted it. She expected glass to fall from her hair or something, but it didn’t. Thank goodness for safety glass. Drawing in a breath, she braced for pain. Yep. Oh, shit… Agony roared through her body, and she went still, not drawing any more breath in. Instead, she let it out, slowly. Then there was more pain. Well, fuck.

  Olivia was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see the destruction. She’d been in accidents before and this split second was precious, because inevitably the pain and drama and loss would roll in and threaten to overwhelm her. Plus, it was the ten-year anniversary of the worst day of her life, and she didn’t want to add any more fucked up dreams to her colorful lineup. Apparently, though, someone else had other plans for her.

  She’d known when she’d woken up it was going to be a shit day.

  Who the hell had taken a ball bat to her ribcage?

  “Fuck me running…” she hissed.

  I will survive this.

  She drew in a shorter breath, stopping just before the pain threshold. Then another. With adrenaline pumping in a situation like this, it was hard not to draw in big draughts of air to oxygenate the body. The sharpness of the pain had been no joke, though, and she didn’t want to feel it again. So, she panted and lifted her head to look around.

  Olivia blinked in the bright morning light and tried to look out her windows. They were shattered, of course. Even the side window. Maybe that was what had hurt her head. Probably a good chance she had whiplash as well. People were running outside, but her head was still ringing, and she couldn’t hear anything. They seemed to be just running in a panic. Had the asshole that had hit her run into the crowd or something?

  The thought of an active emergency galvanized her. If there was something going on, she needed to be there. Reaching down, she unfastened her seatbelt, her breath catching again. Oh, yeah, that was where the damn pain came from. The seatbelt across her chest. The airbags had exploded, and the belt had restrained her, but not without consequence. The Highlander didn’t have the best visibility on a good day. Luckily, though, it had awesome airbags. Although, with the air bags deployed it was near impossible to see much of anything.

  Wiggling her fingers, Olivia started a basic self-check. Hands were good, arms were good, although her right shoulder was aching more than it normally did. Despite the pain she palpated her ribs, locating the pain point. Points. More than one. Her abdomen seemed normal, though. If she did have broken ribs, at least they hadn’t poked holes in anything important. She wiggled her toes and left ankle. They were fine. The prosthetic on her right lower leg seemed okay, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she got out and looked at it.

  Olivia tried the handle on her door, and it didn’t budge. Fuck. Knowing pain was coming, she held her breath and wedged her shoulder into it. A four-inch gap appeared. She pushed at it again. Six inches. Turning in the seat, she lifted her left leg and wedged it against the door, pushing hard with her thigh muscles. It opened enough that she might be able to slip through. Well, her top half anyway. Why did I have to inherit my mother’s broad hips? She pushed and scraped and squeezed, pain radiating through her body as she forced herself out of the mangled vehicle. Landing on the ground hard on all fours, she let her head rest on the concrete for just a moment, breathing as deeply as she could. It felt like someone was stabbing a poker into her chest.

  Someone screamed, and Olivia went still, sounds of another catastrophe ringing through her mind. She cowered, waiting to be shot. Where was Baylee? Had she found a gun? No, the Taliban wasn’t attacking, no matter what she thought she heard. Breathing calmly, she focused her mind to the timeline. That attack had been ten years ago. Not now. Now she was in Texas, heading for a new job. She blinked, the haze of her mind clearing.

  She had to move. She also knew that if she had broken ribs, she couldn’t just curl up to a standing position like she normally did. Heaving, she pushed herself vertical with her good arm, panting as the world swam. Blinking, she waited for the world to still, then opened her eyes. There was blood down the front of her shirt, though not too much. She’d certainly seen a lot worse over her career.

  For the first time, she glanced around. San Antonio was not too far away, but this was some outskirt town. The sign with the town name had flashed by, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it had been. Some small Podunk town like 5 million others she’d been through. After a while, they all looked the same. Scanning the area, she tried to figure out what had happened.