Page 77 of The SEALs' Single Mom Baby Surprise

I rub my forehead. He’s an old friend of the boss’s, which means he’s a former SEAL. That’s why he has all of this. It has to be.

Laughing, I pack a little bit of everything.

Part of me wants Boone as backup, but the three of us have always worked best alone. Knowing that he’ll know what to do if we run into trouble gives me enough peace to think through the possibilities we’ll find when we get there based on what we’ve learned so far.

By the time I rejoin the guys in the office, we all seem to have pieces figured out. Our plan fills out as we make for the plane waiting for us.

Step one, meet a boat in San Pedro to hitch a quick ride to the island, small enough to avoid where we predict the underground entrance is to hide from their notice.

We spend the flight going over maps and satellite photos. There are few places to hide on the island, and as we narrow down our options, the impossibility of simply breaching to take her back becomes clear.

Then, I gear up.

When we reach the island, I’m hiking down the coast to where we predict the cave opens for a full view of the Pacific Ocean. It’s my way in.

We’re eighty percent sure she’s being kept near the opening. Alone.

Cole and Hastings keep hidden inland, watching the other entrance.

Backing myself over the cliff’s edge, I find my grip holds. I’m seventy percent sure they’ll spot me before I’m in. That’s fine.

My job is to find Sloane. They’ll expect me to be a typical American cowboy, and we can predict their tactics better that way. It taps into what I’m feeling. I’ll break necks until I’ve got her secured again.

My anger makes me want to rush the climb, but I keep myself steady. I’m afraid of what state I’m going to find Sloane in. If they hurt her, I’m not letting a single one of them out alive. Not even Kingswell.

What if we calculated wrong, and she’s not here? If we’ve wasted all this time and they’re carting her off somewhere else to do…

I slow my breath.

Focus on getting inside. Shut everything else out.

Once I’m around the edge of the opening, the night is dark enough not to illuminate the entrance. I wait and listen. Small movements, breathing. There are at least four of them. They’re waiting for me.

No taking them by surprise. It would have been nice, but we didn’t predict it as a real possibility.

I push off the wall and use momentum to land in the opening with one hand on the dirt covered floor. I’m greeted by four gun barrels.

Yup. That’s about what I expected.

I stare up at four locked down faces.

“Stay down, hands up behind your head.”

I comply.

One of them lowers his automatic rifle and steps forward to slide zip tie restraints around my wrists and tie them together behind my back. A second gun drops to force me to my feet.

They’re smart not to drop their aim as they guide me inside.

35

SLOANE

My captor, Mikhal, stays for a long, long time. He struggles to believe my story, prodding with information about the base and warehouse where I work that he absolutely should not have. So much of it I don’t even have access to.

When he thinks I’m playing at ignorance, he threatens my co-workers, the guys, my daughter, my personal safety, and his protection from his men. I’m silently crying—fucking hormones—by the time we’re done. By the time he’s promised to end everything I’ve ever cared about, he seems to believe me.

Those threats ease into our conversation after the fact.

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