In Danger and Under Fire

2013 Charging through a street market in Al Mayadin, Syria, trying to lose a tail, Michael Rousseau and Maggie Degginger ducked through a stall and out the back into an alley. The sun was setting and some of the vendors were packing up. “Go left,” Mike snapped. Maggie veered sharply and headed down an even narrower passage, hand in the pocket of her pants gripping the 9mm that was there. “Are they still following?” “Not sure. Don’t stop.” She hurried onward. Either they would lose the people following them or they were going to have to choose a place to fight it out. There was one extra clip in the opposite pocket. She thought Mike might have two. With every new step, her eyes scanned for a defensible position. It needed to be someplace with cover and preferably with a brick or cement wall that they could put at their back. This whole f*****g op had been a litany of bad luck and worse choices. In the year that she’d been working overseas for the Department of Homeland Security, this was the worst planned mission. Her usual handler, Zach, had taken a couple of months off to spend with his wife after the birth of their first child. Lord…if ever she needed good backup. This Naval Intelligence guy they’d sent her seemed competent but she barely knew him. He was a last minute replacement when one of her more familiar colleagues had gotten critically injured in a car accident. She saw a flight of stairs ahead of her and she realized she’d been here before. The roof of the building featured several half walls and the far side was no more than four feet from the next building. It could be jumped in a pinch. She charged up the steps and wove her way toward the west corner. Mike was hot on her heels. “Where the hell are we going?” he demanded. “There.” She snaked around a clothesline and a barrel that contained some kind of a small tree. Ducking down behind the cover of the half wall, she took the time to check and see exactly how many bullets were left in her current clip. Five. “Why are we stopping?” Mike asked. “Best option. Either they’re still following and we can take them out when they come up the stairs, or we’re in the clear.” Mike gave her a pointed look then a curt nod. Huzzah, a guy who actually believed she knew what the hell she was doing. Maybe she should search the sky for flying pigs? s**t, that sounded like footsteps on the stairs. She peeped up over the edge of wall, 9mm in her hand. Several seconds ticked by. The man who had been following them came into view. Maggie squinted in the fading light. It looked like the dude had a IWI Tavor assault rifle. Well, s**t again. Anybody with that level of firepower was not likely to want to play nice. He was looking around, obviously not sure where his quarry had gone. She exchanged a glance with Mike and mimed taking a shot. He nodded. She looked down the sights and squeezed off a pair of shots. Her target staggered back against the stairwell wall but didn’t fall. He flailed slightly and gasped, then yanked up his rifle into position and sprayed a volley of rounds in the general direction of where Mike and Maggie were hiding. “f**k! I think he’s got body armor!” Mike raised up on one knee and put a shot through the man’s eye. That man fell back limply and slid down the wall leaving a smear of blood, but not before his buddy took his place and shot toward Maggie and Mike. Maggie emptied her 9mm at him and then hastily jammed the fresh clip in. Taking a deep breath, she rolled away from cover and fired three shots at the second man. He went down. “That was damn risky,” said Mike. “Yeah, whatever. This way.” Maggie scrambled to her feet and took off in the direction of the far side of the roof, knowing exactly where she wanted to jump across. Not for the first time, she was glad she was fairly tall and had the long legs to go with it. Mike followed. Maggie jumped the four-foot gap between the buildings, barely glancing down at the multi-story drop. Swiftly she wove her way across the second rooftop, avoiding several clotheslines and antennas. There was an access ladder on the far side and she went down. It took another fifteen minutes to get back to the tiny efficiency apartment she was using. It would have taken only ten, but she detoured several times to double check that they had lost the tail. * * * * Standing on the balcony walkway that led to Maggie’s place felt dangerously exposed to Mike. Maggie unlocked the door and they both went in. Maggie immediately pulled off the black and tan hijab she had been wearing and dropped it on a small table near the door. “Are we safe?” Mike asked. “Should be. I’ve been staying here for nearly two months. No problems.” Maggie went to a drawer in the strip of counter that passed for a kitchen and took out a box of shells. She popped her magazine out and started refilling it. “If it fits yours, you can load up, too.” He did. Once, she was done, Maggie laid her gun in easy reach on the counter. “Want a beer?” “Oh, hell yes.” Maggie gave him a half grin and handed him a bottle from the refrigerator. She leaned back against the counter and reached for a bottle opener laying there. She opened her own bottle, handed the church key to Mike, and took a gulp from her beer. “Well, that was a clusterfuck,” Mike muttered, taking a swig from his beer. “Any idea why?” He studied Maggie. She was above average height, raven dark hair, and dark eyes. Her skin tone was dusky enough for her to pass as a native Syrian on a quick glance. Her body was all taut muscle giving in to femininity with wide hips. She was not overly well endowed up top but it fit with her shape. Yeah, okay, he shouldn’t be checking out the DHS agent they assigned him to back up but, blame it on the adrenaline or something. “I suspect Gafna decided he could sell the information about McCoy twice.” She chugged a couple more swallows from the bottle and set it on the counter. She grabbed the bottom edge of her shirt, pulled it up over her head and off, dropping it on the floor. “Ask me an hour from now. Right now I want you to f**k me.” Hell, that was one way to burn off the left over adrenaline raging through him. It also meant she hadn’t missed noticing his visual assessment. Mike pulled off his own shirt and stepped close, pinning her lightly against the edge of the counter. He dipped his head and kissed her. Maggie looped her arms around his neck, pulled their bodies flush. They were both slightly sweaty. A crazy mad dash through a Middle Eastern evening accompanied by bullets could do that. God, her mouth was soft and lush against his. Her lips parted and he took advantage, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Her hands slid down his back and then slipped between them, undoing his belt. “Are we doing this right here?” he asked, with a chuckle. “Nuh-uh, I’m just doing prep.” She spun him to face the bed that was in the far corner of the room, neatly pulling his belt completely free as she did so. She cracked him lightly across the ass with it. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.” He twirled back around and heaved her over his shoulder, carrying her in the direction of the bed, dumping her on the mattress. She grinned up at him, and crooked a finger. Mike lay down on top of her. He slid his hand underneath her and unhooked her bra, took it off, and tossed it somewhere toward the bottom of the bed. She wiggled seductively under him, grinding her pelvis up against his. Maggie nipped at his lower lip, the underside of his jaw and his neck. “There’s too many clothes still on.” “Yes.” It took a little scrambling and twisting for both them to finish disrobing. Maggie hung one arm down over the edge of the bed and opened a wooden box. The glimpse Mike got was of an assortment of vibrators and a box of condoms. She fished out a condom and handed it to him. “Am I better than something battery powered?” he teased. “f**k yes.” She curled her fingers around his already hard prick and stroked him a couple of times. “On your back, Navy boy.” “Oh really? Are you running this show?” He was both amused and aroused even more by her take-charge attitude. “Uh-huh.” Mike stretched out on his back, smiling up at her. Maggie straddled him, then plucked the condom packet from his fingers. She tore it open and rolled the condom down over his c**k. Scooting forward a little to line up better, she rose up on her knees and lowered herself, burying his c**k in the depths of her body. He moaned at the sensation and placed a hand low on her hip, then stuck his thumb in her slick folds, rubbing her c**t. “Mmm, hot and not a selfish prat. Good combination,” Maggie said. She leaned down and kissed him. He bucked his hips upward and she moaned. They fell into a hard fast rhythm. Maggie’s head tipped back and she made the most amazing little sounds. Mike could feel his muscles tightening, that razor edge that meant he was about to come. Oh God, he felt her body spasming around his prick. Maggie’s fingers dug into his shoulders and he unloaded, filling the condom as pleasure washed through him. * * * * Maggie was slick with sweat and other bodily fluids. She lay curled against Mike, running her fingertips over his skin. She had turned on the small bedside light after they had finished, mostly because she wanted to admire him. He had fabulous musculature, and he was awfully easy on the eye, too. Blond hair and green eyes, completed the package of strong jaw, narrow chin, and aquiline nose. “So how many rules are we breaking right now?” Mike asked. He played with a lock of her hair. “Undoubtedly a few, but covert ops in the field have a tendency to toss the rule book out the window.” “How long have you been working for DHS?” “Three years. The first two years I was stateside, but I’ve been hopping all over the Middle East for a year now. How ‘bout you? I thought Naval Intelligence was mostly an ‘on base listening to wiretap recordings’ sort of thing.” Mike laughed. “I’ve done my share of that, but I’ve also done a certain amount of field work. Some of it was in Japan, some in Afghanistan. There’s a rumor that SPAWAR is putting together some people for black ops. I think I’m on the list. Hints said you might be, too.” “I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t get a lot of notice about my next assignment,” Maggie said. “I haven’t yet decided if that’s good or bad.” “Did you do something else before DHS?” “I was a combat medic for the Army.” “So McCoy…do they suspect he’s in bad shape?” Mike referred to the man they were assigned to extract. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised, especially since Gafna implied a level of torture was going on.” Gafna was one of the local contacts. “Do you have medical gear?” “Yes, and before you ask, enough training to do anything short of surgery.” Maggie pressed a finger to Mike’s lips. “Enough talking. Are you interested in round two?” “I think I could be persuaded.” He sucked on her fingertip. “I want to see you seriously come undone.” “Oh really? You think can make that happen?” Her tone was a husky tease. She may have burned through half the adrenaline left over from the firefight but there was still enough left to leave her feeling restless and aroused. “That sounds like a challenge. I’m driving.” He rolled over on top of her, and placed a kiss on her left collarbone, then inched his way down the center of her body leaving a trail of kisses. As he reached her hips, he spread her legs and buried his face between them. He could have done with a shave, Maggie thought ,feeling the abrasion of beard stubble on the inside of her thighs. Then he started doing things with his lips and tongue that made her forget the other part. She writhed. “Jesus, that feels so good.” The warm swipe of his tongue made her gasp. “I must be doing something right.” His teeth nipped at her leg. “Do. Not. Stop.” Oh, Jesus that thing with his tongue…Maggie rocked her hips. She could feel her body beginning to tighten. Unh. The orgasm washed through her in warm pulsing waves. Mike leaned up and kissed her belly. “There’d had better be another condom because I’m not done yet.” Maggie gave a low chuckle and pointed at the box where the last one had come from. Mike crawled over top of her and fished out another one. Mmm, it didn’t matter that they’d already had one go, when he thrust into her it felt good all over again. The rhythm was slower and that didn’t make it less pleasurable in any way. It was curl her toes and grab at the sheets delicious as the build began. “Oh…God…Mike…” Her breath came in gulping pants. He stuck his thumb between their bodies, putting friction in just the right spot and she moaned out his name as she came. He followed her seconds later. Flopping down on the bed beside her, he wove his fingers through her hair and kissed her. “Good?” he asked. “As if you really had to ask.” Mike laughed, low and husky. He eventually rolled on his side, expression more sober and ran his hand down her belly. “So, what’s the word on when they’re moving McCoy?” “Sometime right before dawn. That was as close a time frame as Gafna could specify. We should try to get a few hours’ sleep. I’d like to be in position by four, maybe four-thirty at the latest.” “Distance?” “About eighteen kilometers.” “Drive time?” “About half an hour, there are some narrow streets. Where did you leave your car?” Maggie asked. “At the GPS coordinates I was sent, which I estimate is somewhere about three or four streets over from here.” “Good.” She reached toward the floor and plucked her cell phone out of her pants pocket. “I’ll set the alarm for three. We should even have time for a shower.” “Okay.” Maggie switched off the lamp. In the darkness, she snuggled close. It had been quite a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Those “toys” in the box served a purpose, alleviating tension, without the risk of bedding some local she barely knew. Satiated to the point logic was actually operating again, she considered the Naval officer she’d just had a romp with. All s****l attraction aside, she trusted him. Okay, maybe that didn’t actually qualify as logic, and yet it sort of did. She’d trusted him with her life in the firefight. She could trust him far enough to sleep with him, in the literal sense as well as the figurative one, too. * * * * “Two entrances visible, three windows. Do we have any idea if he’s being held on the upper or lower floor?” Mike whispered. Maggie was crouched beside him, looking through binoculars at the small two-story building. It was townhouse style, sandwiched between more houses on either side. “Upstairs, supposedly.” “I think we should circle around to the back and see if there’s any better access there.” It was a few hundred feet to the far end of the row of houses. The passage that ran between that row and the next was narrow, almost thin enough for Mike to touch both sides if he stretched out both arms. Trash bags and other miscellaneous items were scattered along the way, and the smell was not too great. They ended up counting windows to make sure they stopped behind the right house. Mike and Maggie took a peek through the small window in the rear door. Two men could be seen, one drinking from a bottle and another smoking a cigarette. A radio could be heard playing in the background. Mike ducked down and went several steps further down the alley. Maggie followed. “I don’t see any obvious guards,” Maggie said. “I did notice a window in the second story.” “Unless you have a handy ladder in your back pocket, I don’t think that’s an option.” “You’re tall. You can give me a boost.” “And while you’re flailing around trying to get inside, you’re apt to get shot.” “I don’t flail and I’ll have my Glock in the holster on my hip.” “Maggie, I don’t like the odds,” Mike said. He had visions of hearing shots and knowing she was dying without being able to help her. “Trust me.” Mike heaved a sigh. “If you get yourself killed, I’m going to be mad.” “I won’t.” She stole a quick kiss. “Okay, presuming you get in without arousing suspicion or being seen, what about McCoy? Supposedly he’s injured.” “I’ll come down from the second story and take out the two guys on guard duty. They’re slacking anyway. Once we have a clear field, then we grab him and go. Between the two of us, we can probably carry him.” Mike squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying to decide if this was suicide. It wasn’t like they had a ton of options. “For the record, I still don’t like this.” “Duly noted.” They crept across to the back of the house and Mike boosted her to the window ledge roughly ten feet up. She hesitated on his shoulders for a second or two, then levered herself up the rest of the way. He watched with great trepidation as she vanished through the window. Silence, well, if you didn’t count the sound of the radio and some light conversation between the two guards. There was a barely audible “thump” from somewhere above. Had Maggie put a silencer on her Glock? He stood to one side of the back door, waiting, damn near tempted to cross his fingers. A dull thud was next and he yanked the back door open stepping in. One guard already lay on the floor and the second was lunging for the gun that was visible on the table. Mike pulled the trigger and the second man fell. Maggie came darting out from the staircase. “Come. There was one upstairs, but he’s no longer a problem.” Mike followed her hurriedly up the steps, stepping over another body along the way. McCoy was lying on a dirty mattress in an upstairs room. The man looked like he had been severely beaten. Maggie knelt in front of him and cut the tape binding his hands and feet. “Who sent you?” McCoy asked, his voice a bare croak. “The US government. We’re gonna get you out of here,” Maggie reassured the man. “Any chance you can walk?” “Maybe.” McCoy said. Mike stepped forward and carefully pulled McCoy to his feet. Pulling one of McCoy’s arms over his shoulder, Mike helped the man shuffle to the top of the stairs. “We need to get out of here fast,” Maggie said. “Before anyone shows up for a sitrep.” Negotiating the narrow stairway was awkward, but Mike and McCoy finally made it to the ground floor. Maggie peered out the back door into the alley they had used for access. “Is it clear?” Mike asked. “As far as I can see,” she said and gave Mike a signal to follow. The three of them made it to the end of the alley before McCoy’s very limited strength began to fail. “Hold up,” Mike said softly. He eased McCoy to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” McCoy apologized. “My knee, I can’t hardly put any weight on it, and my ribs.” “We have about four blocks to go. I can carry you,” Mike said. “Give me two minutes to check him out,” Maggie said. She knelt down and ran her hands over McCoy’s arms, legs, and chest. “He’s got significant swelling in the knee. There’s probably something torn. And have a deep suspicion he’s got broken ribs. Pick him up as carefully as you can.” To McCoy she said, “This is going to hurt but we have to get you out of here.” “Do whatever needs to be done. Just get me the f**k to a base or back to the US,” McCoy said. It took Mike and Maggie both, to get McCoy back to his feet. Mike bent his knees and leaned McCoy’s torso across his shoulders in a fireman carry as he stood up. McCoy made a small sound of pure pain, then mumbled, “Just go.” “Can you carry him that way until we get to the car?” Maggie asked as she started walking. “I’ll manage,” Mike said. * * * * Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany was the go to hospital for injured U.S. military. Maggie and Mike accompanied McCoy in the airlift. Their mission was fulfilled and Maggie was given a short break before going to another intelligence assignment. Mike and Maggie met with Admiral Lang for a debriefing of the rescue. When Mike walked out of the office where the debriefing had occurred. Maggie fell in step beside him. “Where are you off to now?” he asked. “Or am I allowed to ask?” She smiled. “Afghanistan. That’s about as specific as I can be.” “Do you think we’ll run into each other again?” God, that was a lame line, he thought, but he was genuine in his interest. “Given what we do, I think it’s entirely possible.” “Stay safe and in one piece, okay?” “Thanks. You, too.” The building they were in was on base. He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare, instead he had to settle for a brief hug.