Ranger's Baby Surprise (Special Forces Elite 2)

There was new information that he was hiding out in an abandoned hotel. There would be a lot of ground to cover. Operations had linked our team with a Special Forces Delta team already in the area.

I waited while the helicopter hovered near the ground. When it was time I anchored my feet to the cord and jumped, rolling out of the way for the next guy.

Once we were all on the ground the chopper took off.

“Crane?”

I turned as a heavily armed group moved toward us.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s me.”

“Newton Thomas.” He pulled down the bandana covering his face. “The guys call me Newt. My team is ready.”

This mission was dangerous, highly classified, and deadly. The only thing going for us was we had just added another Ranger to the team.

I led my men forward with Newt with his men on our heels. They depended on me. I had to forget Olivia or no one was going to make it out of here alive.

Olivia

There were still a few boxes in the living room. I surveyed what I had accomplished in the house. The house would be on the market next week. There was only one more place to tackle. The damn barn.

I hadn’t been in there in weeks. I had avoided it. Sometimes I considered burning it down, but that would be rash and insane. Although understandable considering the shape my heart was in.

I lifted a handful of flattened boxes under my arm and trudged across the yard. Most of the things in the barn I could sell in an auction. I didn’t have any need for the table saws or the tractor. But there were things in the apartment that needed to be boxed up. And I knew one day I appreciate having a few of my father’s and brother’s tools.

I eyed the wall that Jake had pinned me against as I closed the door behind me. It had been the best night of my life. I sighed and made my way to the workbench.

I had replayed it a hundred times. Would I have done things differently if I had known he was leaving? Would I have handed him my body the way I did? Would I let him devour me? I wondered if he had known and took me because it was the last night. He wouldn’t have to face me again.

I reached for a silver hammer and dropped it in a box. I made one box for trash. One to donate. One to sell, and the last for myself.

The morning passed quickly. I looked up when I heard the rain pelt the roof. The workbench was clear. I examined the tractor and decided to let the auctioneer give me a price.

Then out of the corner of my eye I saw something I hadn’t noticed in the barn before. I walked toward the sheet. I lifted it with one hand and my heart almost stopped when I pulled it away.

It was a bench. A beautiful, smooth bench made of teak. My hands trailed over the back. My initials were carved into the wood.

“He made this for me?” I whispered.

It didn’t seem possible. All those nights I had heard him in the barn, the saw going, the lights blaring. This was the project. My fingers dug into the deep grooves where the O and F entwined.

I turned to sit on it. The anger had been there, pushing me to keep going. It was almost tangible. The rage made me feel alive. It made me stay focused. But sitting on the bench, this beautiful art he had made for me, something else broke free.

The anger ebbed and the tears started. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders. Behind the anger was something stronger. Fear. What if Jake didn’t make it back? What if he ended up the same way Elliot did?

I let the tears fall, until I didn’t think there were any left.

17

Jake

My eyes were blurry. My head pounded. Everything was dark, but I could hear screams in the distance. I tried to stand but my leg was pinned under a concrete block. The explosion. It started coming back to me.

The entire mission had been a trap. It was bad intel, served to us to lead us into an ambush. The building was on fire and if I didn’t get out, I would be a part of the next blast.

I shoved the beam off my leg, grunting loudly with the effort. I stood, looking for my team.

“Crane!” I heard the scream over the hiss of the flames. I leapt over the rubble searching for the voice.