Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wren's day had gone by lightning fast. She had a lot of things to think about—her father, half-brother, meeting Bo's team, and hearing things she wasn't sure she was ready to hear about her trip to South Sudan.

She'd tried to talk her coworkers into coming with her to the meeting, but as expected, they weren't receptive. So Wren decided she'd take as many notes as she could, then send them to everyone. If they chose to read them, fine. If not, that was their problem. Why they wouldn't want as much information about how to be as safe as possible was beyond her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it, as Bo was pulling up in front of her building.

She went outside to meet him and climbed into his Jeep. He leaned over and kissed her, as if they'd done it every day for years. It felt normal and comfortable and exciting, all at the same time. She loved how their relationship was progressing. Bo never pressed her for more than she was willing to give, which she appreciated. She might be living with him, and he might be taking over her every thought, but she wasn't ready to sleep with him. That was a huge step, and she wanted to be sure he was exactly who he was portraying himself to be before she went there.

Because she was falling in love with him. And if she went to bed with him, and he turned out to be using her for sex, Wren wasn't sure she'd survive the betrayal. Maybe that line of thinking wasn't fair to Bo, but he didn't seem eager to turn their budding relationship physical yet, either. So maybe he was still unsure of her, as well.

"Hi," he said once she was settled with her seat belt on. "How was your day? Any luck getting the others to come tonight?"

"It was fine. And no."

Bo grimaced, but shrugged. "Their loss. We're going to give you all the information necessary so if the need arises, you can save all their asses. Okay?"

Wren laughed. "All right. Do I get a cape too?"

"You can have anything you want," Bo told her with a wink. "Burritos to go sound all right for dinner?"

"Did you seriously ask me if Mexican was all right?" Wren asked.

"Well, it's not sit-down Mexican. It's just from one of those fast-food type places."

"A burrito is a burrito. And the answer is yes, it's more than fine."

"Perfect."

It took about fifteen minutes for them to drive to the takeout place, get their meals, then reach the base. Bo took her hand as soon as they were out of the car, then they were heading into a nondescript-looking building.

"Is this where you work?"

"Yes and no. We sometimes use the meeting rooms here, but we have conference rooms all over the base that we use, depending on the sensitivity of the information we're talking about and receiving from outside sources."

That made sense.

He walked them up to the second floor and down a hallway. All the doors looked the same, and he opened one about halfway down the hall. Wren swallowed hard when she saw all the men already gathered around the large circular table inside.

She knew Kevlar, but not the others. And as she mentally counted in her head, she realized there were a couple more people here than just Bo's team.

Standing awkwardly next to Bo, she wondered what they were thinking. If they were disappointed that their friend was with her. Deep-seated insecurities from her past swam through Wren. She desperately wanted Bo's teammates to like her. Or to at least not hate that she was with him.

There was silence for a beat—which felt like eons to Wren, but was probably only a couple of seconds—and then a man stepped forward.

"I'm Preacher. You must be Wren. Have to say, we're all a little upset that Safe didn't call us to help you get your stuff the other night."

"And I have to say, it probably would've been a good thing if some of you were there. Maybe Matt wouldn't have gotten away," Wren replied with a small shrug .

"See? Even your girlfriend knows you were a bonehead that night," one of the other men told Bo.

Wren couldn't stop the small smile from forming on her face.

"Uh-huh. I'm gonna do introductions so we can eat and start this meeting," Bo said. "Everyone, this is Wren Defranco. Wren, you know Kevlar, of course. That's Blink, MacGyver, Flash, and Smiley. And those two," he said, nodding toward two men standing together, "are Dude and Mozart. They're on Wolf's SEAL team. Retired now, but still hanging around like bad pennies."

"Hi," Wren said, giving everyone a small wave, which immediately felt like a dorky thing to do.

But to her relief, no one called her on it, and everyone began to take seats around the table. Bo led her to a chair, and to her surprise, Blink tapped MacGyver on the shoulder and motioned with his head for him to move down, obviously wanting to sit next to her for some reason.

She didn't have time to think about it, because Mozart began to dig through a cardboard box on the table and call out names as he tossed what looked like sub sandwiches to the other men. Wren was thankful that she didn't have to eat her burrito in front of everyone else if they weren't eating, because that would've felt awkward as hell.

Everyone dug into their dinners, and Wren did the same. She was starving. It had been a long day at work and the burrito really hit the spot.

"You doing okay?"

Turning to Blink, she studied the redhead as she chewed then swallowed the bite of food she'd just taken. She recalled what Bo had told her about him. How everyone on his team had been injured or killed on a mission. How he'd had a hard time coping. How he'd stepped in and saved Remi from being killed by one of Bo's previous teammates. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked.

"You've had a hard time lately," Blink said.

Wren huffed out a breath. "I admit that being drugged was awful. As did finding out my apartment was ransacked, and knowing the asshole is still out there, probably watching and waiting to try to get his hands on me again. But honestly, living with Bo hasn't been a hardship. Being chauffeured to and from my job…again, that doesn't suck. All in all, my life is actually pretty good right now."

Blink stared at her for a moment, no expression on his face.

Just when Wren thought she'd said something wrong, Blink's lips twitched upward a fraction. "You remind me of Remi. Resilient, practical, strong."

Wren felt warm and fuzzy inside. She liked Remi. Was impressed by her. Especially after hearing everything she'd been through from Bo, after she'd left his house last night. Blink's compliment felt amazing. "Thanks," she said softly.

He nodded, then turned his attention back to his sandwich.

"Wren?"

She turned to look at Bo.

"I need you to remember to breathe tonight, okay?"

"Huh?"

"We're going to be talking about a lot of stuff that might freak you out. But this is what we do. We talk about all the worst-case scenarios. Pick them apart. Discuss what we'd do if the worst happens. If you know ahead of time what can happen, it makes it easier to deal with if any of those things occur. You said you've done some research on South Sudan, so you know some of what we're going to talk about, but we'll probably be bringing up things you might not have thought of. I just need you to not panic. Okay?"

Wren nodded. "I'm not na?ve. I mean, I probably am about some stuff, but my life hasn't been sunshine and roses. I'm aware of a lot of crap that can happen. And yes, I've researched, but honestly? Despite how nervous I was this morning, I've still been looking forward to talking to you and your friends. You're the experts. I'll take any advice I can get. I have no choice but to go on this trip, but I can damn well be sure to go completely prepared for anything."

"You're gonna be fine," Bo said firmly. "No matter what happens, you've got the inner strength and smarts to make it through."

The second amazing compliment in as many minutes was enough to make Wren feel almost weepy. "I hope so," she said softly.

"I know so," Bo said without any doubt in his tone.

Talk around the table was general and relaxed until Kevlar stood up and cleared his throat.

Wren couldn't help but tense. This wasn't simply a meeting to get to know Bo's friends. There was a very serious reason they were all here.

"Okay. I figured we'd get started. Remi's waiting for me at home, as I'm sure Cheyenne and Summer and their kids are waiting for Dude and Mozart. We're here to discuss Wren's safety as she travels to South Sudan in a couple of weeks. We've all been to that region, and we know what a shitshow she's walking into…sorry, Wren, but it's true."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "I know."

"The best thing would be for you to get out of going. Break a leg? Get a virus? Find a new job?" Preacher suggested, looking at her hopefully.

"None of those things are on my immediate agenda," Wren told him.

"Figured. But I had to at least try," he said with a shrug.

Wren wasn't upset, she respected him for saying what everyone else had to be thinking.

She jerked a little in surprise when Bo took her hand under the table. He didn't look at her, just rested their intertwined hands on her thigh. It felt good to have his support, especially when she knew she was about to hear some uncomfortable things.

"We all know that South Sudan has a level-four do-not-travel advisory right now," Kevlar continued. "There's armed conflict between various political and ethnic groups. Crime and violence is an everyday occurrence. Foreign nationals have experienced armed robberies, sexual and other assault, carjackings, shootings, kidnapping, and other violent crimes."

Wren had read the same thing about the country she was voluntarily about to enter, but hearing Kevlar list off the various tragedies that could happen while she was there made her situation all the more real.

"You aren't a journalist in the strictest sense of the word, but since you'll still be working closely with the media, you have to have the proper documentation from the South Sudanese Media Authority. Do you know if you've gotten that?" Kevlar asked.

Wren sat up straighter. "We have. My boss, Colby Johnson, has a liaison over there who's been helping us with our itinerary and making sure we have all the proper documents."

"Good. The other thing you need to be aware of is that our government has limited ability to provide emergency consular services to US citizens in the country. I'm assuming you'll be under a strict curfew, same as the few US government personnel who are in the country. They have to use armored vehicles for all their movements, and they aren't allowed to travel outside Juba. Do you know what your plans are while there?"

Wren nodded. "We won't be leaving Juba either. The pipeline is scheduled to run north and south of the city, but we aren't there to actually visit the proposed sites. We're there to explain the positive results of South Sudan having the pipeline placed in their country. I don't know about the armored vehicles, but I'm hoping Colby's contact has that under control."

"All right. So…with the potential for violence, it's a no-brainer for me to say that you should never go off on your own. Do not walk anywhere, even in groups. If someone suggests going down the street to a restaurant they saw, don't do it. Stay in the hotel. If you can, make sure the rooms you're meeting in don't have windows. Under no circumstances should you go to any kind of public demonstrations or gatherings. Do not take pictures or video, even from inside your vehicle. Photography, even in public places, is strictly controlled. "

Wren's gaze was glued on Kevlar's. With every word out of his mouth, she got more tense. Bo had warned her, and while she already knew most of what the other man was saying, it was still difficult to believe BT Energy thought this trip was a good idea.

"Do you have a will, power of attorney, and your insurance beneficiaries all set?" Smiley asked solemnly.

Wren nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Can you tell us what your schedule is?" Kevlar asked.

"It's a four-day trip. Day one is basically a wash, since we'll be traveling most of the day. Day two, there's a meeting with the government officials who approved the trip. There's also a question-and-answer session with some bigwigs who were integral in getting the pipeline approved. After, I'll be giving a short interview to their state-run media program about the project.

"Day three, some of the different ethnic groups are coming in to ask questions, and so we can explain exactly where the pipeline is going and the benefits to the South Sudanese people. I'll be leading that session, acting as moderator for Colby and the other guys, who will have a panel-like presentation. We have some free time that afternoon, before we'll be going to a dinner at the president's home. I don't know if he'll be there or not, but apparently it's a huge deal.

"The last day is another travel day. We'll head to the airport in the morning and head home."

The room was quiet for a moment, before Dude said "fuck" under his breath .

Wren wasn't sure what part of the schedule concerned him the most. But she didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Jesus, that schedule is a shitshow," Dude said, running a hand through his hair. "Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to get representatives from different ethnic groups together in the same room? That's not going to turn out well. And going to the president's house will just make you targets."

"Right, so…this is probably a good time to talk about specifics," Kevlar said. "First off, if violence breaks out during any of the interviews, your first job is to drop to the floor. Get flat."

"And belly crawl toward the exit," Flash continued.

"If you can't get to a door, get behind a piece of furniture. An overturned chair, a table, something. Keep your head down and cover it with your arms," Mozart added.

"Don't bring any attention to yourself," Bo told her. "And this goes for whatever you're doing and wherever you're going. From the moment you step into the country to the moment you leave. No screaming, no laughing too loud. Don't dress flashy. Leave all your jewelry at home, even though I haven't seen you wear much. You even need to leave your watch in your bag. Do not pull out your phone in public. Keep your head down, stay quiet."

Wren couldn't take her gaze from Bo's. She licked her lips nervously and nodded.

"Now's probably a good time to talk about clothes," Smiley said.

"Yeah," Kevlar agreed. "I don't know what you usually wear at this kind of thing…" His voice trailed off, waiting for her to answer his unasked question.

"Professional. Skirts that hit below the knee, jackets, blouses."

Kevlar was already shaking his head. "No. No skirts. Don't pack even one. If your boss doesn't like it, tough shit. It'll be too late for him to complain once you're over there. Pants at all times. Preferably cargo pants. Not the slick, useless pantsuits that will be way too hot in Africa anyway."

"And boots," Dude added. "The hiking kind, not the high-heeled designer kind."

"It's going to be hot, so while I'd suggest long-sleeve wicking shirts for the protection, you could probably get away with a short-sleeve one," Preacher said.

Wren must've made some sort of face, because Dude stood up and placed his hands on the table, leaning toward her. "You and your coworkers are already going to stand out like monkeys in Antarctica. You're going to have targets on your foreheads the second you arrive in that country. The likelihood of one or all of you becoming the victim of some sort of violence to either make a point, or to try to extort money from the rich Americans, is basically one hundred percent. Would you rather try to get to safety in a skirt and high heels, or while wearing pants and shoes you can run in?"

"The latter," Wren said quietly. "It's just that…I'm expected to have a certain image at all times. Think of a weather forecaster, or someone on the six o'clock news."

"But they don't do their jobs in the middle of a country in the throes of a civil war," Preacher countered.

"Look, if your boss was here, we'd tell him the same thing. No suits and ties. No useless leather shoes. You have to assume the worst and be relieved if the best happens. If you're dragged off into the jungles south of the city, you need to be prepared. Cotton clothes are not fun in a hot climate like Africa's," Flash told her.

It was finally sinking in that the four days she'd be in South Sudan were going to be four of the most stressful of her life.

"In the hotel, you shouldn't be in a room by yourself," MacGyver continued. "Do you trust any of your coworkers enough to room with them?"

Wren thought about it for a moment, then said, "Probably Luke. He's close to my age, and I think he would've come tonight if he didn't think he'd be made fun of by the others."

Just about all the men around her rolled their eyes. It was obvious they didn't think much of someone who couldn't do the right thing, even if it wasn't what his peers thought he should do.

"Do what you need to do, but do not be alone at night. It's way too easy for someone who works at the hotel to pass on intel that you're alone, what room you're in, and even give out a key to someone," MacGyver told her.

"And bring one of those alarm things. The ones that look like a door stop. You put them under your door and it'll make a horrible noise if someone tries to open the door. It'll at least ruin their ability to catch you unaware."

"We need to discuss the possibility of kidnapping," Blink said quietly.

"Right," Kevlar said with a sigh. "Having seven Americans from a successful energy company there will be like dangling a carrot in front of a starving donkey."

The analogy was funny, but Wren wasn't in the mood to laugh. Not at all.

"They could strike at any time. When you're leaving the airport, when you're traveling to the hotel, while you're in your meetings, heading to the president's compound…literally at any time, so you'll need to be ready," Dude said.

"Be alert. If something does start going down, remember what we said earlier. Don't bring attention to yourself. Be compliant. Do what they tell you to do," Smiley said.

"I shouldn't try to run?" Wren asked.

"No!" at least three of the guys said at the same time.

"If you do, it's likely they'll shoot at you," Kevlar explained.

"Your best bet is to go along quietly. I know that sounds scary and counterintuitive," Mozart said. "But we'll set up a proof-of-life plan. Since Safe and his team will be deployed, you can email one of us every couple of hours. Let us know you're good. If you miss a check-in, we can use our connections to immediately find out what's happening."

Wren glanced over at Bo. He was staring at his friend with a small frown on his face.

"If you do get kidnapped, we have the ability to get people working on it," Dude agreed.

"Can I say something?" Wren interjected.

"Of course," Kevlar told her.

"What will you be able to do? You wouldn't even know where I am. And it's not like you guys are still SEALs. I mean, you are, that sounded rude…but you're not active duty. You can't just hop on a plane and come get me."

"First, you're right. We can't. But that doesn't mean we don't know other people who can," Dude told her. "And we will know where you are."

Wren frowned in confusion.

"I think it's time to get to the other part of tonight's meeting," Kevlar said.

MacGyver stood up and walked over to a narrow table against one of the walls. He picked up a small cardboard box that Wren hadn't noticed before and placed it on the conference table. "Wren? Can you come over here, please?"

Wren looked at Bo, but his attention was on MacGyver and whatever was in the box. She stood up, feeling kind of off-kilter when she had to let go of Bo's hand, and walked over to where MacGyver was standing.

"We put together some things for you. Remember, these are all worst-case-scenario survival items, not things we even want you to have to use. Okay?"

For some reason, Wren was kind of excited to see what these men considered "survival items." She nodded.

The first thing MacGyver pulled out of the box was a small plastic envelope with something white inside.

"This is just some cotton wool that's covered in Vaseline. We were thinking it could either go in your boot, or it can go inside the hidden pocket in this," MacGyver told her, as he pulled a belt out of the bag.

Wren took the belt from him and noticed the concealed zipper along the inside. Feeling a little like she was Inspector Gadget or something, she unzipped it. Taking the small plastic bag from MacGyver, she tucked it into the little pocket of the belt. "Wouldn't it be more practical to have some money or an ID in here, rather than this?" she asked.

"If you're in the middle of the jungle, would you rather have money and an ID, or a way to start a fire?" Kevlar asked.

"Oh, is that what the cotton is for?" Wren asked, feeling stupid.

"Yeah. The combo of the Vaseline and the cotton wool is an excellent fire-starter."

Wren frowned in confusion. "But how would I start it? Are you going to teach me to rub two sticks together to get sparks?"

The men kind of chuckled. "No. I mean, we could teach you, but using that method is difficult. And would take too long. Look at the buckle of the belt you're holding," Preacher told her.

Wren brought the buckle closer to inspect it. "I don't understand."

"May I?" MacGyver asked, holding out his hand.

Wren put the belt into his hand without hesitation. He turned the buckle and pointed. "See this little bar here?"

She nodded.

"That's the ferro rod."

Wren looked at MacGyver in confusion. "The what?"

She saw the look of surprise—or maybe dismay?—on his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't know anything about camping or being outdoors."

"It's okay, Wren," Bo said, getting up and coming to stand beside her. He took the belt from MacGyver. "We can practice when we get home. But basically, a ferro rod is covered with stuff that can make sparks when you rub it off. This one is tiny, which makes it harder to use, but since we're going for stealth, it's imperative that someone who searches you doesn't find it or realize what it's for."

His words made Wren swallow hard. The thought of someone "searching" her didn't sound fun. Not at all.

"This belt buckle has the fire-starting rod, or ferro rod, and the prong that goes into the holes of the belt is what you'll use to rub along it to create sparks. If you pile up some small twigs and any kind of grass, and the cotton wool covered in the Vaseline, then strike the rod like this," Bo unclipped the little prong and ran it along the ferro rod thing, and sparks shot off the end onto the table, "you get fire."

"Oh!" Wren exclaimed. "That's cool."

Bo smiled. "It is."

"Okay. So then you can put the belt back together?"

Bo nodded and showed her how to reassemble it.

"What else?" Wren asked, excited to see what other super-secret Navy SEAL stuff they had for her.

"Lipstick," MacGyver told her, holding up a tube.

Wren's brow wrinkled. "I don't usually wear it," she informed him.

"You don't have to. This brand is petroleum-based. Again, if you cut off a chunk—or better, shave it off—it can help you start a fire."

"Right. And kidnappers probably wouldn't care too much if I was carrying a tube of lipstick."

"Exactly," Smiley said from across the table.

Wren shot him a small nod, then turned back to MacGyver. Bo hadn't gone back to his seat. He stayed beside her, which Wren appreciated.

"Safe said he'd take you to find a pair of boots. You'll need to make sure you break them in before you leave, which means you probably need to start wearing them to work. He'll switch out the shoelaces that come with them with this…550 paracord."

"I've seen bracelets made out of this stuff," Wren said as she took the cord from him and ran her hands over it. "What would I use this for?"

"You can use it to make a shelter, to tie sticks together, improvised fishing line, a tourniquet, traps, tie up any stray material you find to make a backpack, fire-starter—it'll burn really fast—or cut through zip-ties."

"Okay, most of that stuff is going to be a no-go for me. I have no idea how to make a shelter, and I'm sure I'd be hopeless at fishing or making traps. But…you've got to be kidding me about cutting through zip-ties."

"He's not," Flash told her. He wasn't smiling, he was completely serious. "If you find that your hands are secured with zip-ties, you can get the cord out of your shoes and use it like a saw to weaken the plastic until it breaks. Make a loop with the cord, thread it around the zip-ties and your feet. Then move your feet back and forth, like you're riding a bike, and eventually the friction will heat up the plastic and you can break it."

"Wow, seriously?"

"Another thing we'll practice," Bo promised. He put his hand on the small of her back.

"Right, okay. What else?" Wren asked .

MacGyver pulled out a small black metal object, and Wren leaned in for a better look.

"It's a barrette," Mozart told her. "We have a friend who was in the Delta Force, and his wife used one of these to get out of a bad situation in Egypt one time. I know you have short hair, but you could use it as a decorative accessory. At least we can hope that's what anyone would think."

Wren picked it up out of MacGyver's palm. It was indeed a simple snap barrette. But even to her untrained eye, she could tell it was so much more.

"It can be a screwdriver, a ruler, a wrench, but the serrated edge can cut through all sorts of things. Canvas, zip-ties…or anything, really. The edge can also be used with the ferro rod if needed."

Bo reached for the barrette and unsnapped it. Then he gently pushed it into her hair at the side of her head and clipped it shut. "It matches your hair, so it's not super obvious."

For some reason, Wren blushed. Feeling his hands in her hair felt really nice. It wasn't the time or place for her to be thinking about how his touch would feel on other parts of her body, but she couldn't stop her wayward thoughts.

"And then there's this," MacGyver said, bringing her attention back to him. He held out something that looked tiny in his big fingers. It was a knife. A very small folding knife. He flicked his wrist and the tip was exposed, looking sharp and deadly.

"We figured this could also go inside your boot," Dude said. "Or maybe in the hidden pocket in your belt. But it's harder to hide than the other things we found for you. Maybe Safe can come up with some other way to conceal it, somewhere that won't be obvious for anyone looking for hidden weapons."

"It's not big enough to really use as a weapon, and the last thing you want to do is go one-on-one with a kidnapper," Blink told her.

"Right. If the worst-case happens and you get taken, as we've said, be compliant. Don't speak unless you have to. Don't yell at them, try not to cry. Be as stoic as you can. Eat what they give you, because you never know when you might get food again," Flash said seriously.

"And drink water. It's a crap shoot, because you don't know if it's clean, but without water you'll weaken, and any chance for escape that arises, you might not be strong enough to take it," Smiley added.

"Speaking of escape, you have to be smart about it. You'll probably either be taken to a safe house in the city where the kidnappers have holed up, or they'll take you into the jungle. Most likely the latter, because it's easier to defend and there will be fewer people to see their captives," Preacher told her.

"The city would be better, easier to escape, but not necessarily safer. Because an American woman wandering alone isn't safe. Not at all," Kevlar mused. "But the jungle isn't exactly good either. You'd have to figure out which way to go to get to safety—and I use the term safety loosely, since anyone you'd run across could potentially cause you harm. Then find water, food, and shelter."

"Jungle is definitely better," Bo said firmly. "She can find a place to hole up and wait for help to arrive."

Wren's mind spun. While it might've been fun to see all the stuff the guys had brought for her, thinking about being on her own in the middle of a jungle in Africa wasn't appealing at all. No one had mentioned animals and insects, but she assumed pretty much anything in the trees could kill her with one bite.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and blurted, "What help will arrive? I mean, the State Department already said Americans were on their own if they went to the country, and you've pointed out more than once that anyone I run across probably wouldn't want to take me to their house for tea and cookies."

She wasn't trying to be funny, but she saw a few lip twitches on the men around the table.

"I think that's my cue to bring in Tex," Mozart said. He reached for a phone that was sitting in the middle of the table and pushed some buttons.

Within seconds, Wren could hear ringing coming from the speaker.

"It's about time," a man on the other end of the line complained in a slightly southern drawl.