Page 78 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

Georgia waved her hand in front of his body. “Like this. You look like you’re about to give me detention.”

He smiled slowly. “Nah. I’m just admiring the view.” He winked. “And your diplomatic skills.” He thrust his jaw at the hostages sitting huddled together on the floor. “Case in point. You’d better be careful, or people will be callingyouambassador.”

Peter had to stifle a laugh as Georgia’s jaw fell open and hung there for a long couple of seconds. He put one index finger under her chin and closed her mouth, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip before pulling his hand away.

“We’ve got more company coming,” he said pushing off from the wall. “Keep up the good work.”

Three more times, the SEALs delivered hostages that needed to be calmed down and reassured that they were being rescued. By the time they finished, Peter had almost fifty people packed in the tunnel. All of them eager to be out of there and on their way to a place that flew an American flag.

Georgia worked like a trooper, calming frayed nerves, quieting fears, and pulling the whole group together.

Stokes sent a third man to join the two upstairs keeping the terrorists busy, then he and four of his men moved the warhead into the tunnel. A safeguard Peter wholeheartedly agreed with.

Georgia rushed over to them. “We have to go soon. I can’t keep them calm for much longer.”

“No problem, ma’am. The Special Forces unit will start their phase of the operation in—” Stokes glanced at his watch, “—three minutes. I’ll radio for the helos now.” He reached for his radio. “You’ll have approximately ten minutes to get to the extraction point.”

“We’ll have to hurry,” Peter said, already moving.

“Wait.” Georgia put a hand on Stokes arm. “What about Ambassador Mitchell?”

Peter stopped and looked at her.

“We haven’t seen him.” Stokes glanced at Peter.

“The last time we saw him was in his office, he’d been shot in the leg,” Georgia said, worry creasing her face.

“The terrorist in charge seemed to want him within reach,” Peter added.

Stokes stared at the floor, obviously thinking hard. He looked at Peter. “He was alive the last time you saw him?”

“Yeah.”

“When was that?”

“Last night.”

“Could he still be alive?”

“I don’t know. He’s a tough man.” Peter shrugged. “It’s possible.”

Stokes nodded and turned away and spoke softly to one of his men for a moment before turning back to Peter. “Get these people out of here as fast as you can. Send the helos back when you’re done.”

“Got it. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Stokes said with a grim smile. “We may need it.”

The trip through the tunnel took nine minutes.

Peter opened the door and stepped past her. “Here’s our ride.”

Georgia stared after him.

Four helicopters zoomed past, turned, and landed in short order. The former hostages ran toward them and they took off as soon as they filled up. Peter grabbed Georgia’s arm and pulled her alongside him toward the last chopper, yelling into her ear that she needed to hang on tight when they lifted off.

Georgia heard several muffled bangs behind them.

Peter grunted, stumbled, and fell to the ground, nearly pulling Georgia down with him. She turned to help him, but he was dead weight, head hanging, a spreading stain of blood soaking the back of his shirt. Georgia’s heart froze, the chill turning her lungs into solid blocks of ice.

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