Rogue (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

panic in her eyes and complexion’s pall said more than she ever could to describe her terror.
    “Shh . . .” Temporarily releasing her to bracket her face with his hands, he begged, “Trust me. We’re almost home free.” For a moment, he lost himself in her achingly familiar blue gaze. They were no longer in a swamp, but on her mom’s back porch, on the verge of sharing a kiss. What was wrong with his mind that it had chosen now for a trek down memory lane?
    “Nash?” She licked her lips. Her pupils widened, and if possible, her eyes grew even wider.
    “Yeah?” He didn’t even know the asshole inside him who couldn’t look away from her plump mouth.
    “In case we don’t make it, thank you for trying.”
    “Stop. We’ll be fine.” Assuming I forget the way things used to be between us long enough to focus on the task at hand .
    Then, the unthinkable happened when the dog’s owner crashed into the water. The dog’s body had floated into the current and was now a mere five feet from Nash and Maisey.
    “Leave him!” The guy still on shore urged.
    “No! He was a good dog and deserves a decent burial.” Who knew? A thug with heart.
    Nash’s adrenaline spiked. “I need both hands. Think you can hold on to me?”
    Maisey’s answer was to hug his chest.
    “Good girl . . .”
    Hands free, with their hunter fifteen feet away and the dog practically on top of them, Nash withdrew his Glock that he’d already outfitted with a sound suppressor. Given luck, the goon would be too focused on his dog to inspect floating grass.
    “Stupid waste of life,” Vicente’s man mumbled on his approach to his dog.
    Nash pushed past his latest swell of nerves.
    “He was a good boy.”
    The dog was now three feet from Nash.
    Maisey tucked herself behind him.
    His pulse thundered in his ears.
    The guy was now in water over his head. His thrashing strokes surged the dog’s body against the grass-covered mat. Unless the man was fully focused on his pet, there was no possible way he and Maisey wouldn’t be discovered.
    “Sorry, boy. You shouldn’t have—”
    In his struggle to tread water, the guy kicked Nash. Time froze for the instant it took him to realize he wasn’t alone. He tossed the netting aside, shouting to his friend on shore, “Hey! Found them!”
    Bullets ripped the water.
    With no way to escape, Nash did what he’d been trained to do—double-tap the forehead of the man shooting at them from shore.
    Maisey screamed.
    The guy in the water grabbed for Nash, but lacked the swimming strength to stay afloat. Nash lunged for him, but the guy had been smart enough to swim underwater for shallower ground. Once able to stand, he sloshed for shore, snatching up his weapon with one hand and radio with the other. Simultaneously, he radioed for back-up and shot wildly at the water.
    “Duck!” Nash shouted to Maisey.
    The guy had lost it, firing dozens of rounds to the accompaniment of his own roar. When he was forced to stop shooting long enough to reload, Nash made his second kill of the day.
    Maisey had floated further downstream and now cried hysterically. “You killed him!”
    “What else was I supposed to do?” Nash shouted back. “It was us or them, and sorry, but I’m not in the mood to die.”
    Having reached her, he tried lightly grasping her in a lifeguard-style hold, but she wasn’t having it. “Let me go! I can’t take this anymore!”
    Ignoring her protests in favor of getting her safely ashore, Nash grabbed the back of her shirt, dragging her as best he could.
    From over the dead guy’s radio, a tinny voice asked, “LeFlour, copy? You there?” Was that Vicente on the other end? “Did I hear right and you caught the intended targets? LeFlour? Come in! What’s your location?”
    Once Nash delivered Maisey to the muddy shore, he started to gut the radio, but then thought better. Information could be gleaned from chatter.
    Nash put his hand over his mouth to muffle his voice. “False alarm. I