Page 34 of Loved by a SEAL

“Most likely the Special Forces will be sent in to conduct an operation such as this—possibly the Navy SEALs.”

Sarah froze.

“They’re trained for instances like this—rapid deployment, secretive operations, hostage rescues. That’d be my guess in a situation like this.”

And this just in, the anchorman continued, the group claiming responsibility for the kidnapping are demanding $50 million for her release. No word on the condition of the hostage, although it is believed video footage will be released soon.

Sarah’s stomach churned as she hurried down the hall to her next appointment. Hostage rescue. Navy SEALs. She knew Patrick’s team got sent on all sorts of dangerous missions—most that never played out on national television. They dealt with dangerous men all the time. Situations she couldn’t even dream of.

There were other SEAL teams. It wouldn’t necessarily be Patrick.

She had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake though.

She’d call him after work. He couldn’t fill her in, obviously, or even let her know if he was in fact leaving. But she’d feel better when she heard his calm assurances over the phone.

Worry niggled at the back of her mind for the remainder of the morning. Her intuition had never proven her wrong before.

***

Ryan grit his teeth as he watched the news coverage splash across the big screen in the bull pen. Leaked information like this was what got men killed. Reporters wanting the biggest scoop were putting his men in danger. Were putting the hostage in danger. Nothing like telling the enemy they were coming.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pounded his fist on the table in frustration.

“It gets me every damn time when they put that shit on the news,” Patrick grumbled beside him.

“It’s all about ratings,” Ryan grumbled. “The networks don’t give a crap about the boots on the ground or lives in danger. Forget the secrecy of the mission—they want to break the story first.”

“Damn fools,” Patrick said.

The secure video connection went through a moment later, and Ryan and Patrick were staring at a roomful of generals and admirals in a secure conference room at the Pentagon.

“We’re sending your team in,” Admiral Davis barked. “Team Delta as well. Chatter confirms the hostage is in the camp shown in the sat imagery. It’s all over the damn media. We’re going to retrieve the hostage before they move her to a secondary location or make good on their threats.”

“Understood,” Ryan said.

“Word hasn’t leaked yet that she’s the Senator’s daughter, but with the way this shit storm is brewing, it’s only a matter of time. I want her out of there before that makes the evening news.”

“The Blackhawks are on standby,” Ryan said in a clipped tone. “My SEAL team will be on the next C-17 out of Virginia.”

“Team Delta is already en route,” Admiral Davis continued. “You’ll meet up at base in Afghanistan, and the teams will go in at 2300 tomorrow night.”

“Sir, we’ll retrieve the Senator’s daughter,” Patrick assured him.

“I don’t doubt it,” the Admiral said. “We all know how pressing this matter is.”

The connection disappeared, and Ryan turned to Patrick, who had a frown on his face. “Notify the rest of the team we’re deploying immediately. Flights leaves in two hours. I’ll be watching the takedown of this op live.”

“Understood,” Patrick assured him. “We’ll coordinate with Delta once we land?”

“Affirmative. You’ll have specs and coordinates to review on your flight over. Hash out the final details there. You’ll each be approaching the camp from opposite directions. We don’t want them getting wind of this op and heading out with the hostage.”

“I’ll notify the rest of the men,” Patrick said.

Patrick walked out of the bull pen, and Ryan’s gaze was drawn back to the live newsfeed. Hell of a Monday morning.

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