Page 5 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

Adam spun around, searching the area. Four more people lay either wounded or dead beside the last vehicle. All men. No sign of Summer.

“Goddamnit,” he snapped, the frustration eating at him like acid.

He was vaguely aware of Schroder kneeling down beside someone at the third vehicle, couldn’t bring himself to care about the suffering going on around him. Where the hell was she?

“Blackwell.”

He whirled around at the sound of Bauer’s urgent voice. The huge former SEAL was crouched down next to one of the victims at the third SUV while Schroder worked on him, trying to stem the bleeding from multiple gunshots in his torso. A security team member.

Adam rushed over, got to one knee. Without thinking he gripped the back of the man’s neck and stared into his eyes, desperate for information. “Summer. Where is she? Did you see her?”

The guy grimaced, both hands covered in blood as he pressed them to his belly. He managed a shaky nod. “T-took her.”

Panic roared through him. He squeezed harder, gave him a shake. “Whotook her?Where?”

“D-dunno,” the man managed, face contorting in pain. “It…happened t-too fast.”

Fuck!Adam released him and surged to his feet, refusing to accept that she’d been taken.

Tuck and DeLuca jogged over, faces grim. “She’s not here?”

Adam shook his head, his jaw so tight he could barely speak. “Attackers took her,” he managed to choke out, feeling sick. Panic gripped him, constricting the muscles in his throat.

Gone. She’s gone and I have to find her, have to get her back.He turned in a circle, desperately searching around for a clue, something that might show him where she’d gone.

“Two others from the second vehicle are missing as well,” DeLuca said, his green gaze locked with Adam’s. “Her boss and coworker. They took all three of them.”

Adam’s heart plummeted to his boots at the news. Three DIA employees in one attack. Whoever had done this had pulled it off in broad daylight in the middle of a residential area. Fucking ballsy.

He swallowed back the bile rushing up his throat, wanting to scream in denial.

But this was unfortunately all too fucking real.

The stench of burning metal and flesh invading his nostrils as he stood there, ice spreading through his veins and a crushing sense of helplessness squeezing around his chest.

Whoever they were, the attackers were long gone, taking Summer and their other high value targets with them.

Chapter Two

Nine years ago

The National Museum of American History was as busy as Adam had expected on a Saturday morning.

He wandered slowly through the military collection, pausing at a display case housing an exhibit of uniforms from the Vietnam era, including one from a POW held at the Hanoi Hilton. This entire section was dedicated to preserving what American men and women in uniform had fought for since the country’s inception.

He studied the display, remembered seeing his grandfather wearing a green uniform just like it in pictures, thinking about how things in the military had changed over time and yet how they hadn’t changed much at all.

War was a constant state with the human race, and he was part of that story.

He finished reading a plaque next to an artifact at the bottom of the case, then straightened and turned around without looking—and slammed right into someone.

He heard a female squeak of alarm at the same time he saw the young woman tip back. He automatically shot his hands out to grab her shoulders as she stumbled sideways. Her book and purse clattered to the floor as she latched onto his forearm to steady herself. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

She released his arm and looked up at him with gorgeous light green eyes, flashed him a smile that made him go completely still. She was striking, her long red hair up in a sassy ponytail and a group of freckles marching across her nose and cheeks. “My fault. I forgot to shoulder check.”

Her quick humor made him grin. Realizing he was staring like a moron, he tore his gaze from her face and bent to pick up her things. A notebook and pen, her purse. Straightening, he handed them to her. Even in her little wedge heels the top of her head only came up to his nose.

“Thanks,” she murmured, hugging the book to her chest, hiding the pert outline of her breasts beneath the top of her deep blue summer dress. That was a shame.

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