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  STRIKE BACK

  A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series

  MARLISS MELTON

  A NOTICE TO THE READER/LIMIT OF LIABILITY/DISCLAIMER OF WARRANTY:

  This book is a work of fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination or is used fictitiously. Names, characters, and incidents in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone, living or dead, bearing the same name or names. All incidents are pure invention from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or businesses or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Marliss Melton

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  James-York Press

  Williamsburg, Virginia

  Edited by Sydney J. Baily

  Cover Design by Dar Dixon

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  ISBN-13: 978-1-938732-26-3

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Marliss Melton

  Chapter One

  At twilight, Hilary Alcorn backed from her parking space at the National Counterterrorism Center where she worked and headed for the exit. The levered arm in front of the gate house lifted at her approach. Slowing as she passed the gate, she blew a kiss at Harold, who waved her through. Easing onto the curved road that took her to the stoplight, Hilary braked to await a green arrow. A pair of rectangular headlights drew up behind her, inspiring a sense of déjà vu as she eyed them through her rearview mirror.

  Hadn’t a car with identical headlights pulled up super-close to her bumper last night, too? Narrowing blue-green eyes behind her teal-framed lenses, Hilary scrutinized what appeared to be a man driving the dark sedan.

  Maybe he was following her.

  Pfft. Sure, he is!

  Scoffing at her imagination, she punched the accelerator as a green arrow pierced the darkness. Plenty of cars were leaving the Liberty Crossing Intelligence Campus at that time of night. Like her, the driver behind had probably worked late to avoid the rush-hour traffic. In Northern Virginia, just miles from Washington, D.C., Hilary’s ten-minute drive home could turn into an hour-long commute through hell if she left work too early.

  That was her excuse, anyway, for hanging around the office until seven most evenings. The truth was she didn’t want to be alone in her apartment with just her cat for companionship. And ever since a certain Navy SEAL had walked out of her life, she’d had no desire to go out looking for company elsewhere. That left the office, where at least she had company.

  Heaving a tortured sigh, Hilary zipped up the ramp to merge onto the beltway. Her volcanic-orange Mini Cooper with its turbo-charged engine outstripped the sedan behind her. Too bad, she thought. Life would be more interesting if she were being followed. Maybe if something awful happened to her, Stuart Rudolph would take an interest in her again. In her loneliness, she entertained that thought for a moment.

  He’d come into her life when she was still working for her friend and private investigator, Juliet Rhodes. Finding a spy from the Cold War era based on his composite alone had stymied both Hilary and Juliet, so they’d called on a friend of Juliet’s Navy SEAL boyfriend, a man so good at finding information online his SEAL buddies called him Hack.

  Before Hilary had met Stuart, she had known plenty of men—many of them in the Biblical sense. After meeting him, she could care less about other men. She wasn’t sure what he had done to her, but she wasn’t the same flamboyant woman that she used to be. She no longer craved male attention. The only thing she craved was Stuart, who’d walked away over a stupid misunderstanding.

  “Damn him.” A familiar wave of longing rolled through her. When would this never-ending craving for him cease? If he’d felt half as much for her as she felt for him, he wouldn’t have allowed a small misunderstanding to tear them apart. They’d still be together, probably going to the latest Star Wars movie playing at the theater this weekend.

  Oh, God. Had that whimper of regret come from her own lips?

  “I have to move on,” Hilary stated as she slowed at a stoplight just a block from her apartment. A glance into her rearview mirror made her eyes widen. That same American-made sedan was pulling up behind her again. Her stomach lurched with sudden dread. She was being followed!

  Or was her new job at the National Counterterrorism Center making her paranoid?

  The light blipped green, and Hilary floored the accelerator, tearing up the last two streets to her apartment complex where she nosed her Mini into her designated parking space. Just as she killed her engine, the rectangular headlights swung into view, causing her pulse to spike. She reached for her cell phone as it rolled into a space three cars over.

  Peering through the windows of the cars in between, she glimpsed a pair of broad shoulders and a head of dark hair as the driver exited his vehicle. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he struck out for her building, walking under a streetlamp as he did so.

  Recognition flooded her with relief, followed immediately by a sense of anticlimax. It was only her neighbor from the apartment directly under hers, the MIT graduate who’d moved to Fairfax the previous summer looking for a job. She’d chatted with him at the Fourth-of-July pool party at the clubhouse back when she made it a point to introduce herself to all single men.

  Annoyed and feeling somewhat foolish, Hilary pushed out of her vehicle to follow her neighbor’s example. As she climbed the stairs to her third-story apartment, she spied the former grad student standing at his door on the second floor, inserting his key into his lock. He looked over at the sound of her footsteps and smiled. The flash of straight white teeth framed by a dark goatee sparked an unexpected response. Hilary’s step slowed.

  “Hey,” he called, and his deep, baritone voice tickled something inside her. “I think we work in the same location. I followed you home.”

  His name surfaced suddenly. “Elias, right?”

  Eschewing the stairs, she approached him with a tentative smile.

  “Yes.” He grinned with delight that she’d remembered his name. “You’re Hilary.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Dark, deep-set eyes considered her with interest as he turned his solid, stocky body to face her fully. Self-awareness elevated Hilary’s heart rate. After months of feeling unwanted, it came as a relief to pull her shoulders back, lift her chin, and let him look.

  “Wow, you look different,” he said.

  “Better or worse?” she asked with private concern.

  “Well, you’ve lost some weight, not that you were chubby before—I like women with curves so it doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”

  He was rambling. I make him ramble, she thought, giving herself a mental high five.

  Embracing her feminine power, Hilary sashayed closer.

  “I’ve been walking more,” she admitted, which was true. Every morning she zipped through the entire park across the street, asking herself with every step why Stu wasn’t in her life anymore.

  “Your hair’s longer,” he added.

  She’d given up cutting it short and dying it ruby red. Now, it fell to her shoulders in a tumble of golden-brown curls. With the new hairstyle came a new wardrobe. She had laid aside the neon colors and eye-catching patterns that she used to wear. What was the point of dressing like a canary when she didn’
t feel like singing? Besides, she’d known for years it was an over-the-top wardrobe designed to get attention.

  “So, where do you work?” she asked, shifting the focus off herself.

  “I got a job with the Intelligence Advanced Research Projects Activity—IARPA.” He nodded enthusiastically, clearly pleased with his accomplishment. “Yeah, it keeps me really busy.”

  “Right out of grad school. That’s incredible,” she praised. “You work right next door to me.”

  “You’re at NCTC?”

  “Yep.” As a rule, she didn’t tell just anyone about her current job, but Elias obviously had clearance himself, so no harm, no foul.

  “We should get together some time and compare notes,” he suggested.

  Her pulse skipped at the offer. Was he asking her out or just being polite? After all, he had to be five years younger than she was. Stu was two years younger, and that hadn’t been an issue, but five years?

  On the other hand, he resembled Stu with his swarthy coloring. He wasn’t as tall, of course, or as physically fit, but then she tended to carry a little extra weight herself.

  “Maybe we should,” she said, unable to make up her mind.

  The gleam that flashed in his eyes informed her he was definitely interested.

  So, why not? she asked herself. She didn’t expect to connect over Star Wars or Harry Potter, the way she and Stu had. Not that everything about their relationship had been juvenile. They’d also shared deep conversations about their childhoods and how it had shaped them as adults. And, of course, there were those incredible kisses that promised the sweetest of lovemaking, but they’d never gotten that far. What a waste! Oh, this was pointless. Elias would never fill—

  “How about tonight?” he asked unexpectedly.

  She deliberated the prospect of a respite from her loneliness and nearly accepted. Nearly.

  “Sorry, I’ve got a friend coming over.” The white lie found its way to her lips. “Maybe some other time?”

  “A guy friend?”

  The question gave her pause—jealous much? Maybe he simply wanted a feel for her availability.

  “No. I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Saying the words out loud made them all the more painful.

  Elias seemed to relax. His gaze slid over her one more time. “Well, then, let’s talk again some time.”

  Loath to let a prospective date slip away entirely, she asked, “Do you have a Facebook page?”

  “Umm, sure.” He paused as if trying to remember something. “Search for Elias Malki.” He spelled his last name. “I’m the only one.”

  “I’ll send you a friend request,” she promised.

  “Great. I’ll look for it.”

  With a decisive nod, she pivoted toward the stairs, aware, as she climbed them, of his gaze sliding toward the hem of her skirt to her shapely calves. Sighing again, she imagined how he would have appreciated her old style of sheer thigh-highs and a garter belt. She wore practical pantyhose now, at least until the weather warmed.

  Pantyhose or not, Elias’s regard managed to make her feel sexy. For months now, she’d done nothing but mope in the wake of Stuart Rudolph’s abrupt abandonment. Recalling the way Stu had caressed her, the depth of their cerebral connection, she still ached for him. No other man could ever fill the spaces in her heart and head that he had filled. But she had to move on. At least she responded physically to Elias Malki.

  It’s a start, she told herself.

  Stuart Rudolph kept multiple browsers open on all six monitors positioned around his U-shaped desk. Sitting at his desk was like being on the bridge of the fictional starship Enterprise. The Universe lay at his fingertips. Collecting actionable threat data, he jumped from dating sites to chat rooms to satellite imaging, all the while keeping tabs on extremists.

  Under the alias Oscar Atta, Stu advertised himself as a vocal proponent of the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant. In this cyber world, he had become an extremist of the worst sort, expressing his desire to expand the caliphate by beheading, crucifying, and enslaving nonbelievers.

  His white-hat hacking skills had become legend, making him the perfect liaison between Special Operations Command and Ghost Security Group, a counterterrorism organization that took on digital jihad. As both a SEAL and a member of GSG, Stu battled the war on terror both on the ground and online.

  He had taken on the GSG job in the last few months to keep himself busy. Or rather, even busier. With both his body and his brain taxed to the extreme, he didn’t have time to think about Hilary Alcorn, the one woman he’d loved and lost because he’d failed her.

  Not only was Hilary affectionate and sexy, but they spoke the same languages. Whether he talked about the Dark Net or in Klingon, she understood what he said—not that he talked a lot. As a kid, he’d been diagnosed with Asperger’s, though that term had fallen out of favor in recent years. At work, no one realized he was on the autism spectrum. His affinity for computers merely enhanced his physical athleticism. His differences were only apparent in social situations—especially when women were involved.

  Hilary hadn’t even seemed to notice. From their very first meeting, she’d accepted him without a shred of judgment. Her eyes had shone with admiration, easing his awkwardness. He had helped her on a case last fall, tracking down an East German spy still on the lam from the Cold War era and living in the U.S. Who knew what else they could have accomplished if Stu hadn’t made Hilary a promise and then promptly broken it, telling his teammate Justin a secret he wasn’t supposed to share.

  Clearly, Stu had never deserved Hilary.

  She claimed to forgive him—over and over in texts and in voicemails. What’s more, he believed her. But he couldn’t forgive himself. Period. Instead, he’d got himself a new phone number and blocked her from his world. Unfortunately, as he well understood about himself, there were no shades of gray in his coloring box, only black and white. He’d given her his word; he’d broken it. He didn’t deserve Hilary Alcorn’s love. Not even if she wanted to give it to him.

  If only he could sever his memories of her as easily as he could change his phone number. Instead, those memories stubbornly persisted, along with a nameless yearning and a propensity to daydream that got in the way of his work—like right now. Damn it!

  Catching himself off task—again—Stu focused once more on the monitors before him. All over the world, terrorists were launching cyber-attacks against the DoD, hacking into intelligence systems, and undermining financial, military, and transportation infrastructures. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by a memory that wouldn’t go away.

  The realization made him pause. It had been, what, five months now since he’d broken it off with Hilary? Yet he still thought of her, at least once an hour. That kind of interference was like having a virus plaguing a computer’s operational system. In layman’s terms, which weren’t technically accurate, viruses required a patch. Maybe that was what he needed—to put a patch on his relationship with Hilary.

  The thought took hold and wouldn’t leave him.

  His gaze slid thoughtfully to the Facebook profile of his alias, Oscar Atta. Hilary would immediately recognize the name Oscar, especially when paired with the avatar of Stu’s Maine Coon cat. Perhaps if she accepted his friend request, and he knew what was going on with her, he would have a connection that satisfied the hankering inside of him. Then he could focus on his work again.

  Why not? If it didn’t work, he’d just unfriend her. Directing his mouse to the appropriate screen, he reached out through cyberspace to close the gap between them.

  Chapter Two

  Shedding her work attire, Hilary donned turquoise pajamas dotted with lime-green polka dots and, postponing her dinner, settled onto her sofa with Mitzie, her orange-and-white calico. Only when the feline rumbled with contentment from a good dose of loving did Hilary set Mitzie aside and pull her Mac Book Pro onto her lap. For the past few months, this was how she had done her socializing.

  Tonigh
t, she would send Elias Malki a Facebook friend request and take one brave step toward getting over Stu.

  A brief search turned up Elias’s profile almost immediately. She perused it, noting how he’d filled his home page with lighthearted postings and pictures of himself enjoying moments with friends. Wow. He had a lot of friends, several from college and even more with foreign names. She wondered what his heritage was—Syrian maybe? His parents must have been immigrants. She clicked the Add Friend button then waited on pins and needles for him to accept.

  To her delight, the people icon at the top of her page lit up. She clicked on it only to blink in confusion. Someone named Oscar Atta had requested that she befriend him.

  Who the hell was Oscar Atta?

  Opening the man’s profile, she gasped in recognition of the gorgeous Maine Coon cat in the picture. Stu’s cat. Oh, my God, Stu had just sent her a friend request! Her heart took off at an Indie-500 gallop.

  Yes! Yes! Yes! She accepted his friend request at once, swallowed against a dry mouth, then hungrily absorbed everything she could on Oscar Atta’s profile.

  “Huh.” Her eyebrows pulled together as she tried to make sense of the posts. They spewed with anti-American rhetoric. His photos all depicted violence. Like Elias, he had hundreds of friends, most of them foreign, which was weird, since Stu didn’t have any friends she knew outside of his SEAL team brothers.

  His profile made no sense. Stu was a patriot. Day in and day out, he laid his life on the line for his country, so what was this picture of the American flag on fire? And what about the one mocking his Commander-in-Chief? Here was a link to a site called How to Make a Homemade Bomb.

  “What the—?”

  An answer burst over her suddenly. Oh, of course. This Facebook page was a means of attracting extremists. It wasn’t really Stu’s profile, anyway; it was Oscar’s, his crazy cat’s.

  Oh, dear. Hilary didn’t relish her name showing up for all of Oscar’s radical friends to see. But that was okay for now. At least he’d reached out to her. After he’d changed his phone number, she was certain she would never hear from him again.