Alana Albertson - Invincible

Kyle smacked me on the head. “Shit, man. I don’t see why I can’t get laid with one of the other whores first and then we can save your girlfriend. I’ll be quick.”

I smacked him on the head. “Yeah, your ex mentioned your little problem. But sorry, not going to risk it. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Vic shook his head, disgusted with us both. Kyle and I partied with the best of them, but poor Vic still hadn’t learned his lesson after his ex-wife had cheated on him. He harbored some fucked-up fantasy that he’d find a girl to be faithful to him when he was away. Some delusion that he might be able to have a marriage that defied the Navy SEALs infamous eighty percent divorce rate. Optimistic bastard.

“Whatever you say, man.” Vic laughed. “I know you. You’ve been obsessed with her since you met her. She’s all you’ve talked about for the past three weeks. Once you save her, she’ll worship you. You two will end up getting married. Mark my word. She’s from San Diego anyway—how convenient. Plus, you said yourself she gave great head. Sounds like a match made in hell week if you ask me.”

“Fuck you, Vic. I’m not saving her because I love her, I don’t even know her. I’m saving her because it’s the right thing to do.” But Vic’s words resonated with me. Annie was all I thought about. And though I hadn’t had more than a cheap sexual encounter and an awkward conversation with her, over the past month I’d learned everything I could about her— I’d watched childhood videos of her and her family, seen interviews of her parents crying and begging for her safe return. She’d wanted to be a teacher and had volunteered with a dog rescue. And though at first I saw her as just another woman who could satisfy me, now I couldn’t fight the desire to see her again. Even if it would be to watch her walk away in the end.

But I could never make any woman happy. I didn't understand why so many men felt the constant need to make pleasing women their sole mission in life.

But I wasn’t like that. It went deeper than that. I loved women. All women. My mom taught me never to disrespect a woman. I’d given my heart to one woman once, and she gutted me. All the times I was stuck in some hole in Afghanistan, dreaming about her, to think she was screwing around on me. I didn’t need that complication, my job was stressful enough. I needed my home life to be peaceful, because my line of work was anything but. The only men in the Teams who had successful marriages had women who were completely strong, honest, and loyal. It was hard to build that type of relationship when I was never home. So I chose to just be single until I retired. But I was still a man and had my needs. It didn't help that I was plagued by the memory of Annie’s mouth on my cock and her hands gripping my thighs as I came.

But enough of that relationship bullshit. I had to be steadfast—no matter what, I could not allow myself to give her any hope that we could be together.

I couldn't wait to get this the fuck over with. I tried not to think about what would happen after I deserted her at the embassy. If her family would treat her right, if her friends could look her in the face and keep from cringing. It wasn't my problem. She wasn't my problem. I would do my job and get her back to safety and then I would get the fuck out of there. I’d seen what the media did to these rediscovered treasures—they stalked them like celebrities. I could never be part of that media circus, not with my job, my life.

I’d fulfill my duty to her, keep my promise. But after that, she was on her own. She had a family waiting for her anyway. I could never fit into her life and she could never be a part of mine. She’d just have to forget she ever met me, just like I hoped she would forget all the torture she endured. And I could go back to living my life the way I liked to.

Alone.

Our carrier pulled into port at sunrise. Had this been Annie’s last sight before she had been taken? Her desire to photograph its beauty had cost her freedom. Today, I would liberate her. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face once I’d saved her. All the training I’d gone through in my life had prepared me for this mission. And if we're being honest, I relished that feeling of accomplishment. It was the only thing in my life that made me feel better.

Vic, Kyle, and I left the ship and headed to the private dock to get our yacht.

We made our way through the maze of scuba tours, glass bottom boats, and moonlit cruises. A middle-aged bearded guy with a ponytail and a beer belly met us at the dock, dangling the keys.

“You must be Dave.” Kyle shook his hand, and Vic and I followed suit.

“Nice to meet you. The Cleito is all cleaned up and ready for you.”

I glanced at Vic and Kyle. The Cleito . In Plato’s myth of Atlantis, Cleito bore Poseidon ten sons. An obscure Navy SEAL trident reference, but we all understood the significance of the name instantly.

Dave handed me the keys. “So what are your plans? I know some great scuba spots.”

I placed the keys in my pocket. “Thanks, man. We’re just going to relax, go fishing, snorkel, maybe head to Aruba.”

Dave glared at our seabags, filled with our night-ops equipment. He was no dummy; former old-school frogman. He probably sensed that we were planning something other than checking out the local tropical fish...at least not the kind that swam in the sea. “Well, I’m happy to show you around. Anything you need.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We will.” I eyed Kyle, who nodded toward me. We could trust this man. Any BUD/S class, any trident. He was one of us. Basically fucking family.

“Well, let me give you a tour.” He led us on the boat. It was no luxury yacht by any means but it would be perfect for our needs. Downstairs there was a small galley kitchen, upstairs there were two bedrooms—one with two twin beds and one with a queen, a bathroom, and a tiny living area. And a small area to relax up on top deck. I gave Kyle the keys and he fiddled around with the controls.

We spent the rest of the day stocking up the ship with food, drinks, and supplies. I’d bought Annie clothes, shoes, toiletries, magazines, some books. Wasn’t sure what she was into but I figured anything that could keep her mind off drugs and what she’d been through would be a good bet.

Hours later, the sun had finally set. We cleaned, loaded, and concealed our weapons.

I was ready to fuck some shit up.

Kyle stood up. “Let’s do this!”

Operation Rumpelstiltskin was ready to go down.

We’d all dressed casually. I had no fear—this was more like a training exercise than a mission.

Nothing could go wrong.

We walked down through the back alleys of Curaçao. A rush pulsed through my body. In less than an hour, Annie’s nightmare would be over and a whole new world would begin.

When we turned onto the street, I gasped. The brothel was nowhere in sight—instead, ashes were strewn across the ground, burnt mattresses collapsed in the street.

It was gone—she was gone.

I’d failed her.

Vic put his arm around my shoulder. “You sure this is the place?”

“Positive.”

Kyle sifted through the embers, eyes focused. “I’m sure she’s alive and they just moved her.”

My eyelids burned and I could feel the pulse in my throat.

A man walked by, wearing a watch that looked like the one I’d given the pimp.

I ran and shoved him against the next building. “Where did you get that fucking watch?”

He quivered, and once I got a closer look, I realized it wasn’t my watch.

Vic and Kyle dashed after me.

I released the man. “Sorry. My mistake.”