Quinn’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #4)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“Incoming,” Flint said, watching the feed from the drone overhead. “It’s the truck they’ve been tracking from the counterfeiter’s warehouse.”

Carter used that as the signal to start moving their tactical boat into position. Over the radio they heard Hawk’s team near the dock confirm the license plate identification.

They hadn’t expected to move on the trawler tonight, but the Secret Service had declared it time. Apparently, the trawler’s crew had been running their mouths about heading out. Too bad for Morton and Steen that their hired help wasn’t discreet.

“At least we know the radios work,” Bowie said.

Quinn chuckled. “Good to be out here with reliable backup.”

“Amen,” Carter said.

Another voice reported over the radio that the truck was headed straight for the trawler.

Hawk’s spotter reported the movements as the counterfeiting crew came to a stop and started unloading. “Three men. Two crates rolling toward the vessel.”

Quinn was sure those crates were loaded with counterfeit bills headed to a foreign market. He wished the feds would jump in and take them right now. Then he could get out of this boat and back to Dahlia. He couldn’t wait to tell her the threat was over.

But the Secret Service wanted to trap the counterfeiters out in open water, with the contraband, to prevent an escape. Apparently, the team watching Morton could then move in and make the arrest before word could get out about the trawler’s fate. Following the plan, Carter guided the boat closer, moving so quietly that Quinn could hear the crew readying to release the mooring lines.

“Trouble,” the spotter reported. “We have a fourth person. Unwilling participant.”

What the hell? Quinn exchanged a look with his friends. Nothing they had so far indicated this group was into anything other than the counterfeit money.

“Female,” the spotter continued. “Hands tied.”

No trafficking operation went to these lengths for one person.

“Give me a second,” Flint muttered. He had to be careful not to let the crew see the drone or the entire takedown would be jeopardized.

Flint swore. “Is that?—”

Quinn leaned over his shoulder. Shit. They had Dahlia. Fury jolted his system. He shoved it back. Dahlia needed him to be calm and efficient. Get mad later . “How the hell?” But those answers had to wait as well. His mission parameters shifted. His priorities shifted.

This was now a rescue.

Quinn muted his comms. “New plan. This boat doesn’t leave the harbor.” He didn’t give a damn about the money or the operation. Dahlia was his sole concern.

“We’ve got you,” Carter promised. He steered the boat into place.

Through the overhead view from the drone, Flint reported the progress as the counterfeiting crew prepared to leave the dock.

He thought about Hawk’s warning not to go off the rails. Inside his gloves, his palms were sweating. He couldn’t remember that happening anytime other than his first operation. “We take them now. Hard and fast.”

“Coast Guard is standing by,” Bowie confirmed.

Quinn didn’t want them to get so much as an inch from the dock. Not when they had Dahlia. “Counterfeiters just paid off the crew,” Flint reported to everyone listening on the radio. “Movement near the wheelhouse.” He navigated the drone back to their boat and shut it down.

Within minutes, the four of them boarded the boat silently, weapons ready. Quinn’s heart rate had settled into a dull thud in his ears. This was what he knew, where he excelled. They crept along the shadows created by all the gear on the open deck. Although it wasn’t currently a working fishing vessel, it still looked like one.

The four of them spread out, each of them taking a section, intent on securing anyone they encountered. The feds could sort out which person went with which crime.

Over the radio, there were questions and commands to hold, but none of them responded. The element of surprise was too important. The takedown was over almost before it began. As soon as the deck was secure, Bowie moved to the wheelhouse and took control of the radios. No one outside of this vessel knew what was happening.

Satisfied they had the main players, Carter signaled the Secret Service and partnering agencies to move in.

Quinn searched the deck for Dahlia. No one had seen her and no one was talking. Steen and two others were face down on the deck. The crew was handcuffed in a huddle near the stairs to the wheelhouse. Teams of law enforcement officers from locals to feds wearing black windbreakers with various acronyms swarmed the trawler. One team was handling the crew while another was offloading the fake bills into evidence vans. He appreciated the documentation of the evidence and attention to detail. None of this money would go missing.

“Who has Dahlia?” he shouted. She wasn’t among those being arrested. He looked from Bowie to Carter to Flint. “Has anyone seen her?”

Carter shook his head. “Thought she was with you.”

That’s where she should’ve been. Where she should always be.

“No.” A sharp bolt of panic gripped his heart and lungs, squeezed tight. He could barely breathe through the pressure. It didn’t matter how many stress tests he’d passed in training or downrange, he’d never felt the strain quite like this.

He stalked over to Steen and grabbed the man by his hair. “Where is she?”

Steen’s laughter was cut short when Quinn banged his face to the deck.

“Where is she? Dahlia!” He peered up at the trawler’s navigation bridge. “Dahlia!”

“Not up there,” Bowie said. “Three-foot world. We saw them bring her aboard.”

Three-foot world. Quinn forced himself to breathe, to think. He had to pull his focus in tight, clear his immediate area three feet at a time until he found her. It wasn’t as if she’d come aboard willingly. The bastards had forced her aboard.

Had she managed to escape to the water while they were moving in? It was a real possibility. Dahlia was a strong swimmer and knew these waters well. Maybe she was already safe.

“No one saw her go into the water?” Quinn asked anyone within earshot.

Bowie gripped Quinn’s shoulder hard. “We’ll find her.”

Flint shook his head “We would’ve seen or heard something if she’d gone overboard. We’re too close to have missed that. We would’ve heard something if they’d hurt her.”

Maybe. Quinn wasn’t as confident. His entire body vibrated with urgency and he battled for calm. He had to think. Couldn’t afford to make a mistake with her life on the line. “Start with the most obvious answer,” he decided. “She’s here. On board somewhere.”

Quinn called out assignments and they split up to search for Dahlia. The fishing trawler wasn’t huge, but there were plenty of places to hide. With the counterfeiters and crew contained, the four of them could pick it apart quickly.

Bowie went below deck with Carter and Flint bounded up toward the wheelhouse. Quinn combed the deck. He kept his search thorough and deliberate, despite the pounding in his head, urging him to rush. If she was able, Dahlia would’ve shown herself by now. The bastards either had her drugged or trapped. Maybe both.

He wanted to tell the authorities gathering evidence to shut up so he could listen for her voice or any other signal. But that wouldn’t fly. There was just too much contraband and too many people who wanted to get it under wraps.

Quinn forced himself to carefully examine every possible hiding place. His flashlight swept away the shadows, three feet at a time. He called her name, aching more with each minute that she didn’t respond.

As he moved methodically closer to the bow, he found crates lashed down to the deck. They looked too small to hold a person, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He released the strapping and opened each one, tipping them over as he went.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” one of the feds called out. “You’re messing with evidence.”

Quinn clenched his teeth. Evidence no one would have without Dahlia . She’d been the first person to spot the trouble. Quinn, his friends, the Brotherhood Protectors, and the feds were all here because of her .

“There is a woman on this boat.” He was surprised his voice held steady. “A kidnapping victim. Once we find her you can add that to the list of charges.”

“You can’t?—”

Quinn straightened, pinning the man with an unrelenting stare. “I will open everything on this vessel until I find her.”

The man stared right back, not cowed in the least. “You’re sure?”

He gave the jerk points for courage. “She’s an innocent witness and she is here. I won’t leave until she’s found.”

“I’ll take starboard,” the fed replied, shocking Quinn. “What’s her name?”

“Dahlia.”

With a nod the fed rushed off and Quinn resumed his thorough search. He couldn’t rush for fear of missing some clue. He would find her. He would find her alive. The phrases cycled like a mantra in his head, the only thing keeping him calm.

Another stack of crates cleared. Next up was a long metal box secured with a padlock. If those bastards put her in here, he’d be making a visit to the holding cell tonight for some immediate, hands-on justice.

He broke the latch and threw the lid wide. No Dahlia. Growing desperate, his temper close to boiling over, he shouted her name over and over as he tore into anything bigger than a milk crate.

Flint returned, reporting no sign of her in the wheelhouse or anywhere in between. Before Quinn could ask, he moved to the stern to continue searching.

He thought he heard a whimper followed by a deliberate thumping. Hard to tell with all the action on board. He called out again and waited. This time he was sure he heard the odd whimpering sound and the thumping.

Not his imagination.

But where was she? The sounds were close, but there weren’t any unexplored areas nearby. “Dahlia!”

More thumping came. He listened with his whole body, following the vibrations under his feet. She must be caught in a hidden compartment. “I’m here!” he called out repeatedly as he searched for how to reach her. Finally, his flashlight landed on a point where the decking was scratched up as if the crates nearby had been moved back and forth. Often.

“Over here!” he shouted to no one in particular. Shoving the crates aside, he looked for the seam that would reveal the outline of the hatch.

The thumping got faster, paused for a heartbreaking few seconds, and then started up again.

“I’m here,” he chanted. Could she even hear him through all the noise?

He found the handle, took out his knife, and pried it up out of the decking. Flint was right beside him and helped him tug that stubborn handle free.

It released with a sudden pop that nearly tossed him back on his ass. He scrambled for the opening and found himself inches away from Dahlia’s tear-streaked face. She was curled on her side, her hands cuffed behind her and a strip of duct tape over her mouth.

He was raging and ready to kill, but he shoved it back—for now—to help her.

Flint caught him. “They need to document it.”

“You document it,” Quinn barked. “Then pass it on. I’m not leaving her here a second longer.”

Her body had to be cramping from adrenaline and fear as much as from the tight space. Moving slowly, he helped her sit up. “This might hurt,” he warned, scooping her out of the smuggler’s hole and into his lap.

He gathered her close, crooning nonsense as he peeled the duct tape away from her face. She sucked in a ragged breath and sagged against him. “Thank you.” Her voice was rusty and weak.

He tucked her head under his chin and held her, trying not to crush her with his relief. “Want a doctor?”

“No.” A shiver racked her body. “J-just you.”

“I reserve the right to involve a medical professional.” Bruises marred her gorgeous skin at her jaw, on her arms. He was sure there would be more.

“Just you,” she repeated. “I was so scared you wouldn’t find me. H-how did you know?”

“Flint’s drone,” he told her. “We saw them bring you aboard.” He kissed her temple. “It’s over,” he vowed. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

She started shaking in earnest. Or maybe that was him. Either way, she needed him to be strong enough to get her some place with far more privacy. If there was anything he’d learned about Dahlia, it was how much she hated showing a weakness.

More feds closed in, each one of them sticking an evidence bag in his face. He assumed the random flashes were from Flint’s camera, but it didn’t matter. The duct tape and the cuffs around her hands and feet were gathered and labeled.

“We’re leaving,” he declared, picking her up. She was a person and she deserved better than to be treated like a crate of evidence.

“I can walk, Quinn.”

“Later.” He couldn’t let go of her. Not yet. His friends flanked him and they moved toward the narrow gangway leading to the dock.

“Hold on!” A man stuck a badge in his face. “We need a statement.”

“You’ll get it,” Carter replied. “Later. We’ll get you the contact info.”

“You can’t just?—”

Quinn felt his friends create a shield behind him and made the most of it, hustling Dahlia away from the commotion.

“Quinn, put me down.” She rapped on his shoulder.

“Not sure I can,” he admitted.

“Let me walk. We’ll make better time.”

That was a good point. But when he set her on her feet, her knees buckled. Quinn slipped an arm around her waist. She winced and he realized there must be more bruises. He tried to gentle his touch, but she needed his support. “Don’t ask me to let go.”

“Never.”

“I need a vehicle,” he said to no one in particular. The transportation they’d used was miles away.

Bowie pressed keys into his hand. “Take this one.” He opened the passenger door of a black sedan. “I’ll sort it out for you.”

Quinn had the best friends. He got her settled and then jogged around to the driver’s seat. “Your place, the cabin, or somewhere else?” he asked as he left the scene.

“My place,” she decided after a minute. “As long as you stay.”

He reached over and took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere as long as you need me.”

Deep down in his chest he felt the strangest flicker that he might want her to need him forever.

“Are you hungry?” Quinn must’ve asked three or four times since they reached her house. She’d gone straight to the shower, scrubbed herself clean, and then asked for a shot of whiskey.

After that it was only water.

“No, thanks. Water is plenty.”

Apparently, she wasn’t ready to eat. He’d keep an eye on that. If her appetite didn’t come back soon, or if other concerns cropped up, they would be making a trip to the hospital, regardless of her protests.

He perched on the edge of the bed in her room, one foot on the floor and his back against the headboard. “What do you need?” She could ask for the moon and he’d make it happen.

She laced her fingers through his. He’d been holding back, afraid to touch her because he didn’t think he could let go. After being locked in that compartment, she surely needed space more than anything else. She definitely didn’t need him clinging.

But she surprised him. Burrowing closer, she rested her head on his chest. “Can you just be here? And leave the light on. I know it’s childish.”

“Don’t say that,” he murmured into her hair. He would gladly hold her forever if that’s what she needed. “You’re not childish. You’re the bravest woman I know.”

He’d come so close to losing her. He wasn’t sure his heart would ever beat right again. Holding her until she fell asleep, he thanked God and every other deity he could think of that he and the guys had rescued her.

He couldn’t possibly imagine a world without Dahlia. It was a strange revelation after a lifetime of believing he’d been born to be alone. This time with her destroyed that way of thinking. He was hers, if she’d have him.

Carter had told him to do better and he would start right now. He was ready to make the effort to convince her he was sincere about loving her.

He was in love with Dahlia.

Everything inside him seemed to lift and relax. He was in love with Dahlia. All the joy inside him paled in comparison to the other happy moments of his life. He trusted her to hold his heart, to keep it safe, the same way she trusted him. It gave him a certainty, a bone-deep peace he’d never experienced.

Hours later his phone vibrated on the nightstand, pulling him out of a light sleep. He planned to ignore the call, but Castle’s name and face filled the screen. Carefully extracting himself from the soft weight of Dahlia, he took the phone into the front room.

He answered, keeping his voice low.

“Bad time?” Castle asked.

“All good,” Quinn replied. “You’ve got news?”

“Yes, finally. Case is closed. The ringleader, Edward Fuller III, along with Justin McCarthy and Darren Hendricks are dead. They refused to stand down.” Castle paused. “Phillip Jones and Carlos Ferrero are in custody and already talking. Not that it will change much. They’re facing court martial and life sentences. You guys are clear to come back.”

“To testify?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t think so, but we can’t rule it out,” Castle said. “We caught the five of them red-handed, splitting the spoils. I don’t think we’ll have to mention you four at all. Not in an official capacity anyway. You should have seen it, Quinn. They were up to their damned elbows in drugs and money and pride and we’ve got it all on camera. It was a clean takedown. Justified shootings.”

“That’s great,” Quinn agreed, suddenly more tired than relieved.

“Have you given any thought to your reenlistment?” Castle queried.

“Oh, um.” Quinn should’ve had a response. He and the guys had been talking about it for weeks now, but after everything they’d been through tonight, leaving was the last thing on his mind.

Castle sighed. “You’re retiring, aren’t you?”

“That sounds like an accusation.”

“It’s not. Not really. I mean, Hawaii must be incredible. From what I hear, the four of you are staying busy aside from the testing we needed.”

“It is. And we are.” No point in denying the truth. “I know you’ve been here.”

“Not to the Big Island,” Castle said. “Is Hawk’s operation as good as it sounds?”

“Better,” Quinn confirmed. “You should visit. Hank Patterson set this up. He’s pretty much the best post-military service recruiter ever. Hawk still thanks Patterson every day for putting him here on assignment.”

“Good. We all need a purpose,” Castle said.

Quinn heard the weariness in his CO’s voice. “And what’s yours now that this case is closed?”

“Oddly enough, the Navy criminal investigator suggested I take some R-and-R.”

“You don’t say?” Quinn chuckled to himself. “Want to visit the Big Island?”

“We’ll see. If you guys are still there, I might make the trip.”

“You’ll have our decisions soon,” Quinn promised.

“Thanks for everything,” Castle said.

Quinn stared at the phone. “What are you talking about? You did the heavy lifting.”

“You guys saw the problem, and rather than gloss over it or try to handle it yourselves, you did it the right way. I’m proud of the four of you. Always will be.” His voice turned gruff.

Feeling awkward under Castle’s praise, Quinn was relieved when the call wrapped up. But then he was left staring into the darkness outside.

Five men who had—like him—promised to uphold the constitution and protect the nation’s interests were dead or in custody facing life sentences at best. Quinn couldn’t work up much sorrow for those two, considering they’d killed other operators in their pursuit of greed and power.

Quinn should be happier about all of it. It was the news they’d been waiting for. He would be happier. Just as soon as he got over nearly losing Dahlia.

Noticing the unholy hour, he chose to wait to tell the others. No sense in all of them being awake. Without a doubt, they’d all celebrate at Ohana’s later. He and his friends would certainly raise a glass to Castle for his dedicated effort in protecting not just the four of them, but the Navy as well.

As for his career? It was over. Despite Castle’s success, Quinn was done with the Navy. A few weeks ago, he might’ve blamed it on burnout or cynicism. But that wasn’t it. He was simply ready for something new.

He started searching online for ideas. Some place romantic and private to share all his revelations and new intentions with Dahlia.

Then he heard her crying and rushed back to the bedroom.

Dahlia came out of the nightmare on a gasp. She wasn’t trapped. Quinn had saved her. In her sleep, she’d heard a deep voice, muffled as it was, and been tossed back into that locker.

Awake, she recognized her bedroom and that stark relief flooded her system all over again. Thank goodness Quinn had left the light on for her.

But where was he?

“Hey, sweetheart.” The door opened slowly. “You okay?”

Suddenly, she was embarrassed and overwhelmed with feelings that were out of control.

She felt more than relief for Quinn, but love seemed too big. Too impossible against the limits he’d set in place.

And yet as she watched him, she knew his limits were an excuse. One she had to find her way around. The concern and longing in his eyes weren’t simply the bodyguard at work. Not even the bodyguard with benefits. He loved her, even if he didn’t know how to say the words or recognize the truth.

As much as she valued her independence, she realized she was staring at the one partner she wanted for a lifetime. He hadn’t once diminished her, only supported, encouraged, and watched over. And she wanted to do the same for him, though her contribution would be emotional rather than physical.

She wanted to be his, the person he returned to after a surf session, an outing with the guys, or a military assignment.

“Dahlia?”

“Just a nightmare,” she sat up against the headboard.

“That’ll probably happen for a while.” He walked closer. “I didn’t mean to leave you. I only went out because I didn’t want to wake you.”

She smiled. “Was it Castle?” He nodded. She patted the bed. “Come tell me all about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ll call it a bedtime story.”

“Dahlia, I’m not so sure,” he hesitated. “It’s not a pretty story.”

“Are you alive at the end?”

He smirked. “Well, yeah.”

“Are the people you care about alive at the end?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her hand.

“Then tell me all about it.”

He got back into bed and stretched out next to her, letting her decide how close she wanted to be. When she was snuggled up against him, he stroked her hair, and told her how Castle had caught Fuller and the SEALs working with him.

She relaxed as he talked, another wave of relief flowing through her. Quinn didn’t need to be afraid of going back to the teams. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore about a mission deliberately going sideways and putting him in danger.

That was a big relief to her. Because whatever became of the two of them, she wanted only the best for him.