Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Joselyn (Kindle Worlds) Page 2

  My Rose, sweet Joselyn

  Her time draws near

  To be taken, consumed

  As I feast on her fear.

  She opened her eyes, her face frozen in a pained expression before continuing. "The police were able to positively identify the blood as coming from Douglas McClane so I was whisked away into witness protection where I stayed for three long years. You have no idea how relieved I was when Jonathan, my handler, got a call informing us McClane was dead. I wanted to go see the body in person to try and regain some of my equilibrium back but my therapist talked me out of it. She said he had already taken too much from me and I would be giving him more control in death. I needed to move on, get back into my life." She snorted. "Easier said than done. They did let me see the pictures of the crime scene so I was able to get some closure. Finally, I could reclaim my life but the time I spent in hiding changed me. I didn't want to go into law any longer; my experiences soured me on becoming an attorney. Instead, I took all the anger, fear and worry and turned it into words, pages, and stories. Three books in nine months, Detective Jameson. It is the legacy Douglas McClane left me. He was dead and gone but I have The Deidre Files and a bright new future awaiting me. So imagine my surprise when I came home from a writer's conference yesterday to find this box on my doorstep. He had been there... at my house. A man who tortured, raped and murdered six women had stood on my front step, in a protected, gated community long enough to leave me a box."

  He sighed. "Ms. Chambers, ah, I mean Ms. Kendrik." He hesitated a moment, "Which do you prefer?"

  "Kendrik is fine."

  "Ms. Kendrik, I can understand your concern and if I were you, I'd take up the issue of unwanted deliveries with your homeowner association. However, the fact remains McClane is dead. If you feel this incident is related, why didn't you call your handlers in Witness Protection?"

  "You think I didn't? I called Jonathan first thing and he told me I was being paranoid. He said a dead man can't be sending me gifts and told me it was probably from a fan."

  He didn't say anything just nodded in agreement.

  Frustration made her want to scream. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. Finally finding a bit of calm, she lowered her head, opened her eyes, unfurled her fists and winced to see half moon imprints in her palm from her fingernails.

  He continued as if he didn't notice her. "If I remember correctly, he was killed by the police in a cemetery in Florida?"

  She nodded. "The same one that contains my father's grave. He was putting a slashed stuffed bear wearing a purple dress on his tombstone when they caught him. A groundskeeper saw him and reported it."

  The frustration was clear on his face. "Okay, but he was killed. I remember it clearly when the news came down the line. First time in two years I got to take a full week's vacation. Unless I'm missing something here, he's gone, Ms. Kendrik, dead. Ghosts can't hurt you and that's what Douglas McClane would have to be. It's impossible for him to have sent you a box of strawberries yesterday."

  "I thought so too but he's not. He's out there somewhere." She pulled out a piece of folded paper and slid it across the cluttered desktop. "This was hidden in the box, under the tissue paper. I didn't see it until later."

  He unfolded the paper and read the words.

  Roses are bloody

  Beware the thorns.

  Veratrum is poison

  In all of its forms.

  Cacti have blooms

  But also have stings.

  Death will come knocking

  Carrying beautiful things.

  "It's almost verbatim to the poem I found on my father's grave last year. I never told anyone about it because, frankly, Detective Jameson, I saw was no reason to as he was dead. The only difference is the line 'Roses are bloody'. The original said 'Roses bear beauty'. The bloody part is a direct reference to the first gift he gave me. Before you say anything, yes, the words may not be the exact same but yet they are. I promise you, if a murdering rapist leaves you a love poem, you don't forget even a single word of it. EVER! I don't know how, why or where but I assure you, Detective Jameson, he still wants to keep his promised date with me and I don't have much time before he comes to collect me in person."

  He pulled out a rubber glove and took the paper from her. "I'll have this checked for fingerprints but I can almost guarantee you there's nothing there." He placed the letter into a small bag and wrote on the front. Tapping his pen on his desk, he collected his thoughts. "Look, I'll open a case file containing this evidence in a possible stalker situation but there's nothing else I can do. It's not like I can put out an APB for a dead man. I'll tag it as a potential copycat."

  "It's not a copycat, it's him. I can't explain to you exactly how I know but it is. This is Douglas McClane. I know it deep inside." She stood, retrieved the box and dropped it into the garbage can next to his desk. Turning she went to the door of his office and looked back. "Go ahead and open the stalker file but I don't believe it will make any difference. After I'm murdered, maybe you can get him before he kills again. At least my death would have a purpose." Without a backward glance, she exited his office and disappeared.

  Chapter 2

  Maddox "River" Benson twirled the long neck beer between his hands, causing droplets of condensation to fly in a graceful arc to the table top and soak into the napkin bearing the Aces Bar and Grill logo. He frowned when the thin paper tore and he pushed it into a small sodden pile next to the empty bottles in the center.

  "So, what are you going to do now that you are retiring?"

  He glanced at the assembled men and women sitting at the large table. Matthew Steel, Kason Sawyer, Faulkner Cooper, Sam Reed, Christopher Powers, and Hunter Knox looked at him expectantly. The team of SEALs, also known as Wolf, Benny, Dude, Mozart, Abe, and Cookie was some of the best men he had ever had the pleasure to know through the years. He was closer to his own team, of course, but SEALs were all brothers-in-arms and saw to it they always had each other's six. One couldn't go through everything they had and not feel a sense of family.

  "I got a couple of things banging around in my head." He took a draw on the beer, pulled the label off and flashed the group a half smile. "I'll figure something out."

  The pretty brunette waitress, Jessyka, bent over the table and placed the bottles onto her tray. "Another round?" she asked. She took a step back which displayed that curious limp of hers. River didn't know what had caused her injury but in all the years of coming to this bar, he had never seen it stop or even slow her down significantly. He shook his head and tilted the still quarter full bottle slightly. She smiled but suddenly lurched forward. "Hey, watch it!" she shouted over her shoulder.

  Next to him, River saw Benny slide his arm around her waist as a group of loud, obnoxious men jostled her. Every man at the table, the entire SEAL team, stiffened and stared at the men. Dude, the most serious one of the team, cleared his throat and raised one eyebrow at the boisterous group. Catching the glares, the men murmured a quick apology and hurried to the other side of the packed room. The team relaxed and Jessyka kissed Benny lightly. "My hero," she murmured before returning to the bar with her loaded tray. Benny grinned and didn't take his eyes off his woman.

  "So, Maddox, how did you get your nickname?" The pretty blonde, Summer asked. She was nestled inside Mozart's arm, looking very comfortable. "We've heard a lot of stories about how some guys get names and 'River' seems a little unique."

  "Not a lot to say really. I was born and raised in Mississippi. You know, Mississippi River." He shrugged. "Could be worse."

  "I heard it almost was," Wolf chuckled. "Something about strong hands and working on a farm."

  "Yeah, something like it," River growled and sat his beer on the table. "There was no way I was going to let them saddle me with a name referencing a cow's body part. When it was first suggested, I told them point blank they better pick something else. I wasn't particularly tickled about 'River' either but considerin
g the alternative, it worked." He shrugged. "Now the name had grown on me and for the most part, I prefer it to Maddox."

  Caroline was curled against Wolf's side as he gently stroked her arm, his deep affection clearly evident for all to see. River was happy for the couple. Marriage and family were difficult at best for any military man but doubly true for SEALs. Leaving at a moment's notice with no idea where their men were or how long they would be gone was hard. Seeing all the members of this team happily wedded filled him with hope. Maybe they would be able to beat the odds. "What are the other's nicknames?" she asked.

  "Bruiser, Finch, Toad, Hick, and Cowboy. I'm not completely sure but I think the new guy's nick is Railroad. He joined them today."

  "I'm not sure either. I know there were a couple of new men arriving the last few days but I'm uncertain where they are assigned," Wolf said.

  "Oh my God, what did that poor man do to get saddled with 'Toad' as a nickname?" Alabama asked with a laugh.

  River smirked. "Sorry, you'll have to ask him. Some stories are better off coming from the source, right Benny?"

  They all laughed and River turned his thoughts inward. He took another drink of his beer and watched the dynamics of the group. It was obvious to anyone how close they were. He felt a twinge of loss knowing he was no longer a part of his team. Right now, the others were off on a mission and he was left behind. They had planned on a little send off for him, some beers and reminiscing about times past but as sometimes happens, Uncle Sam called first and they had to leave earlier this morning. Sitting here was making him more nostalgic. What was he thinking coming here on his last night in Coronado? He should be at his apartment getting ready to leave. The furniture rental company had already come by yesterday so there were only a few things left. Other than his clothes and a handful of odds and ends he'd collected over the years, nothing else remained. He was leaving in the morning; leaving a life he had known for the past twenty years and heading into what? When he said he had something in mind, it hadn't been exactly true. The only thing he had planned was a visit to his family. Twenty years in the service, including twelve as a member of the elite SEALs teams and now he didn't know what would be next in his life. There was little call for trained snipers in the outside world and going to college at thirty-eight didn't sound appetizing either.

  Looking around at Wolf's team laughing together made something clench in his gut. It was going to be hard acclimating to life after the SEALs. He knew he was lucky in leaving with body intact and only a handful of scars both inside and out. There were things that would haunt him in the night but he knew of too many brothers who had returned from missions severely altered by what they had seen and done. Add that to the others who never came back and he felt fortunate, indeed. Finding the current stream of his thoughts too maudlin, he rubbed his hand over his face, pulled a bill from his pocket and tossed it on the table before standing.

  "You leaving already?" every eye at the table was trained on him.

  He nodded. "Yeah, I got a long drive tomorrow so I better get some rest."

  As one every man stood and solemnly shook his hand before giving him a manly half-hug. Murmurs of "take care" and "see ya" drifted around the room.

  As he turned, he heard, "Once a SEAL..." He looked back to see Abe lift his beer.

  "Always a SEAL," the others finished in unison before lifting their beers in a salute. River snagged his and downed the last swallow. They may not have been on the same team but they were still brothers. He knew without a doubt if any of them ever needed him, he'd be there and the same was true for them. SEALs never left SEALs behind.

  Making his way out through the crowd, he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. Fishing it out he glanced at the caller id and frowned. Who would be calling him from New Orleans? Stepping out of the noise and onto the sandy beach he connected the call. "Yeah?"

  "River, I need your help."

  River was shocked when he recognized the voice of his former team member and unofficial leader, Henry Jameson.

  "Bull? Jesus man, it's been what, ten years? How the hell are you?"

  "Tired."

  River chuckled. "I was wondering who was calling from New Orleans Police Department. Do you need bail money?"

  "Nah, I'm working here; got my detective shield a few years back, which is why I'm calling. You got a minute?"

  "I got all the time you need."

  "Yeah, I talked to Bruiser earlier today. He told me you were exiting so I was hoping you could help me. I need to call in a solid if you have some time and don't have anything planned for a few days."

  "I'm free. What's up?"

  "How fast can you get to New Orleans?"

  Chapter 3

  Joselyn stared at her plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with disgust. She dropped her fork and pushed it away. This constant worrying she was suffering had all but killed her appetite.

  She pulled her laptop out, placed it carefully on the table and pressed the start button. The whine of the fans from the aging cooling pad underneath reminded her she needed to get a new one soon. Mentally, she added a trip to the electronics store to her growing to-do list. Glancing around the coffee shop from the corner booth, she dropped her attention to the screen and attempted to lose herself in the universe of her latest novel.

  A sound caught her attention, pulling her from the world she was immersed. Two rather large men stood beside her table and she barely managed to stifle a scream before recognizing one as Detective Jameson. Flicking her gaze to his companion, she realized she had never seen this one before. The detective was intimidating but he was nothing compared to the man beside him. There was something insanely dangerous about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The man radiated an aura of deadly power, and she had to fight pulling away from them in defense. He reminded her of a wild animal; keep your distance and you were safe but get too close to him or his territory and you would regret it. He stood at least six feet tall with broad shoulders rippling with muscle. He had well-defined arms and a trim waist emphasized by his tight jeans. The material of his dark tee shirt was stretched tightly over his torso and tucked into his waistband. His definition was not that of a professional bodybuilder but was clearly a man who was accustomed to working hard with his entire body. His strong, calloused hands caught her attention. Her thoughts of how it would feel to have him holding her with those hands splayed against her back sent flashes of heat through her. She watched mesmerized as his right hand lifted and plucked the dark sunglasses from his face. His raven black hair was a little long but it along with his tanned face showcased some of the palest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Beneath them, she observed his straight, Romanesque nose, wide cheekbones and square chin covered in dark stubble. Either his facial hair grew quickly or he hadn't shaved in a few days. Something told her the latter must be the case.

  She was floored. His mixture of danger and stunning looks made her want to dive into his eyes and never come out. As for his body, she wanted to run her hands over every ripple and dip until she could draw his form in her dreams. It seemed as if he could read her thoughts when one corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Before she could stop herself, she licked her lips and blushed, trying to look away before he realized she had been undressing him with her mind only moments before.

  "May we join you, Ms. Kendrik?"

  Startled out of her daydream, she recovered and motioned toward the cracked vinyl seat across from her. "Detective Jameson, good to see you again."

  Immediately, a waitress appeared at the table, eyes glued to Detective Jameson's companion sitting ramrod straight across from her. "Hey darlin', I'm Helen. What can I get for you?"

  "Coffee," they said in unison.

  Darting off to the counter, she returned only moments later placing two cups of rich, black brew in front of them. With a wink, she dropped a container of creamer beside. "Sugar's on the table. What else can I get you?" Her eyes were devouring the stranger with promises of what else he
could easily have and not necessarily from the menu. Joselyn rolled her eyes. Helen was so cliché it was positively funny.

  "Coffee is enough," Detective Jameson smiled but waved her off. With a pout upon her cherry red lips, Helen sashayed to the front with an exaggerated sway of her narrow hips. Stopping to look over her shoulder, she realized neither of the men was paying her any attention. With a huff, she pushed through the door and disappeared into the back. Joselyn snorted. She couldn't stand women who relied on blatant sexual innuendos to grab a man's attention.

  Completely oblivious to the scene that just transpired, Detective Jameson took a sip of the black drink and winced at the bitter brew. Tossing in some sugar, he tried it again and nodded. Next to him, his friend took his black. She studied the man again for a moment. Even though his hair was dark instead of Viking blond, he reminded her of the old Norse legends of the Frost Giants. Cold. Impassive. Untouchable. Yes, the moniker seemed to fit him pretty well.

  "Ms. Kendrik, Joselyn, I believe I owe you somewhat of an apology." Detective Jameson shot her a sheepish glance.

  "Excuse me?" She frowned in confusion. "Why do you owe me an apology?"

  He rubbed his bottom lip with the corner of his thumbnail and grimaced.

  "Yeah, okay. Here goes," he muttered. "After you left my office a couple of days ago, I couldn't stop thinking about this whole situation and the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. I learned a long time ago to trust my instincts so I dug out the box of strawberries and looked it over carefully. Nothing appeared wrong, just strawberries and chocolate like you buy at the store. In fact, with Mother's day coming soon, you can find these in any grocery store in the city. It looked like a sweet attempt by some unknown person to impress someone they liked. Don't get me wrong - it's never a good idea to eat something sent to you by a stranger but it seemed innocuous enough. As I was about to drop them back into the trash, I saw it. On one of the strawberries was a little hole in the chocolate - a tiny puncture. Now, it could have been from a bubble popping when the chocolate cooled but my intuition said it was something more sinister. I sent it in to be checked and you know what they found? It had been injected with ketamine - enough to knock a linebacker down." He flashed her a pained look. "Good thing you are allergic, eh? Had you eaten it, there's no telling where you would be now or what would have happened. In a nutshell, you were right. You do have a reason to be concerned."