Chapter Two

T ing, ting, ting, ting.

The same haunting piano melody echoed through her mind once again and she tried to hear the lyrics, but they remained out of her grasp. Just like everything else. So close, yet so far away. Mere fragments. It was frustrating as hell.

She couldn’t even remember her family or friends or where she was from, so how would she remember song lyrics? Or, why they somehow seemed important. But she had remembered her name. Or, at least, she assumed it was her name. Ellie. But that was it. No middle or last name. Technically, it wasn’t even a complete first name, just a possible nickname.

Was her full name Elle? Eleanor? Helen? Elizabeth?

With a frustrated sigh, she shoved a hand through her hair. She’d watched the blonde streaks grow out over the past year and a half, but it wasn’t like there was a salon anywhere nearby she could go for a touch-up. So she’d cut her long locks off and now the hair brushing the tops of her shoulders was a darker brown, her natural color. Of course, there was silver threaded through it, too, and though she couldn’t remember her exact age, she knew she was no spring chicken. The combination of gray streaks and grooves on her forehead placed her somewhere in her mid-forties. The deep laugh lines hinted at a happy past and she wished she knew who had made her smile so hard.

The only clear memory Ellie had was a local fisherman pulling her out of the sea and saving her life eighteen months earlier. But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t recall how she’d wound up floating in the middle of nowhere in the South China Sea. She’d had a lump the size of Texas on her head and no doubt the massive hit to her noggin had rattled her poor brain so hard that it screwed it all up, erasing her past.

Well, making it cloudy and jumbled, anyway. Things were slowly coming back, but at a trickle when she would’ve preferred a tidal wave. With no idea who she was or where she was from, Ellie stayed on the small island where the fisherman lived. Barely anyone spoke English and she earned money as a housekeeper at a nearby hotel, cleaning rooms and waiting patiently for an important fact or detail to surface in her mind. A recollection that would lead her back to her former life.

So far, nothing significant enough had come to light in the dark recesses of her mind. The more time that passed, the more she began to worry. What if her memory never came back? What if she was destined to live out the rest of her life without the answers she so desperately craved?

“Amnesia,” she grumbled. How dramatic and inconceivable. It was a plot device in a book or movie. Not real life. Yet here she was with no idea who she truly was or where she belonged. With whom she belonged.

Ellie stared out over the dark, churning sea, fingers clawing through the sand. She liked to sit on the beach—especially this quiet, secluded section—and let her mind open as she searched for a way to plug the holes in her memory. She’d had a couple of epiphanies in this exact spot and yearned for more. Just small things like how much she loved daisies. Although, she supposed the delicate flower tattooed on her inner wrist could be linked to that. Turning her arm, she studied the small white petals and wondered if it had a deeper significance.

Listening to the sound of the waves rolling in and out, she closed her eyes and mentally opened herself up to her surroundings. Birds and small critters chattering in the nearby brush, the ebb and flow of the sea, the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Breathing deeply, the pleasant ozone scent of an approaching storm filled her nostrils.

The jarring sound of a motor broke through her concentration and her eyes popped open as a memory hit her hard, lightning-fast and crystal clear, completely out of nowhere.

The motorboat moved up swiftly beside their research vessel and she looked over the side, stomach tightening in dread. Pirates. Dread quickly turned to a fear so palpable she stood there at the rail, frozen, unable to move much less warn the others.

When the five men looked up at her, she snapped into motion, quickly taking a step back. She’d been warned about the pirate problem in the South China Sea, but she hadn’t expected any trouble. Not really. They were on a small boat with research equipment. Not some fabulous yacht with safes full of diamonds and cash. Even so, Wes had made sure security accompanied her and the group of scientists.

Spinning around, Ellie ran across the deck and screamed for Paul, the former Marine whose job it was to keep her and the others safe. He appeared right away, eyes widening as he looked over her shoulder. As he reached for the pistol in a holster on his hip, a shot cracked through the salty air, and a spot of blood blossomed on Paul’s chest. He fired off two shots, staggering forward as more rounds popped. Ellie hit the deck with a cry and saw Paul go down, his gun skittering toward her.

Determined to grab it, Ellie crawled forward as fast as she could, hand reaching out…

The motor cut and Ellie snapped back to the present. Oh, God. She’d been on a research vessel that had been struck by pirates.

Rubbing her temples, trying to force the rest of the memory, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nothing else came.

“Dammit,” she hissed. A sharp breath escaped her lungs. She had so many questions swirling through her head. What happened to the others? Had she hit her head in a scuffle and they’d tossed her overboard? Who was Wes?

As hard as she tried, Ellie couldn’t muster up an image or identity. Just his name. Wes. But now she knew he was the one who’d made sure she and her research team had security. Poor Paul. She felt awful. And what about the others? Had they died, too? Was she the lone survivor? What had they been studying? Why had they traveled so far?

Who was Wes?

His name elicited a guttural response, tugging something deep inside her like no other memory had before. Not even her own name. Was he her significant other? Her husband? Maybe a brother, father or uncle? Or, possibly just a close friend who’d been concerned for her safety being so far away from home?

Whoever he was, she wanted answers. But sometimes, it felt like the more she dug around in her head and tried to force it, the more her mind closed down, refusing to cooperate. With a resigned sigh, she scooped up a handful of sand and watched as it sifted through her fingers. Maybe she wouldn’t get any more answers today, but she refused to give up.

“Your name is Ellie,” she whispered to herself, focusing on what she knew. “You were on a research vessel that was overtaken by pirates. They shot Paul, your security, but you managed to escape. Wes tried to make sure you stayed safe.”

Who was Wes? She hated not knowing because he must’ve been someone important. Someone who cared about her on more than a casual level. Ellie looked down at the ring finger on her left hand. Of course, there was no ring there. Had there ever been one? She had no idea if she was married. Maybe she was wearing a wedding ring and the pirates had stolen it. Or, maybe she was single.

Ellie sat on the beach for another hour, willing answers into fruition. But, none came.

◆◆◆

After Brand filled the team in on the basics, Wes opened his laptop and connected the group to General Mitchell Evans. The former four-star Army General greeted them from his home in Washington D.C. Even at sixty-seven, Mitch was a force to be reckoned with and Wes knew better than to underestimate him. He was the ultimate warrior—a combination of Bond and Stallone. Exactly the kind of man Wes had always dreamed of being.

“Hello, boys.” Mitch leaned back in his chair and, without preamble, directed his attention to Brand and asked, “How’s my daughter?”

“Julia’s perfect. Never been so content,” Brand stated, mouth edging up in a cocky grin. “Right now, she’s out on the patio painting the view.”

Mitch harrumphed. “Good. I’d expect nothing less.”

“So, what have you got for us?” Brand asked, switching into mission mode.

“According to my intel, the crew we’re after refers to themselves as the Sea Dogs and I sent you the calling card they’ve been leaving.”

“Yeah, I shared it with the team,” Brand confirmed.

Wes pulled up the image for the others to see again and a chill ran down his spine. These had to be the same fuckers who killed Ellie. Suppressing his anger, he released a slow, deliberate breath. He was ready to put heads on spikes.

“I’m sending over pictures and a dossier now,” Mitch said, and when Wes’ email dinged a moment later, he opened the attached files. “This is an Indonesian crew and those five photos are the main targets to be neutralized. The ringleaders.”

“Piracy in the South China Sea and surrounding areas is nothing new,” Chaz commented. “What’s so special about these idiots that the CIA wants them taken out?”

“Yeah,” Jayson murmured thoughtfully. “Whose rowboat did they shit in to draw that kind of attention?”

“They took something and we need to get it back.”

“Took what?” Brand asked.

“Some very sensitive intel. Aside from neutralizing your targets, your other job is to find the Sea Dogs HQ and raid it. We need a specific laptop returned.”

“A laptop?” Lex echoed, leaning back and tapping a finger on the table. “What exactly is on said laptop?”

“Important files the CIA wants back. The pirates hijacked a yacht two weeks ago, killed all the passengers on board and took everything of value. Luckily, the files are encrypted, but we can’t risk anyone possibly deciphering and reading them.”

“Roger that,” Brand murmured.

“These assholes are getting bolder. Punitive response against pirates in the area is very lackadaisical. It’s like a free-for-all out there.”

“Why’s that?” Corey asked.

“The area is hotly disputed,” Mitch said. “China, Malaysia, Vietnam and the Philippines have been wrangling over this territory forever. The South China Sea is a major shipping route, making it a magnet for pirates. China claims the largest portion of territory in an area demarcated by its controversial ‘nine-dash line’. So, while their Navy patrols the northern area, the south sea is like the Wild West.”

“And there’s the magic word—China. Explains why we’re going in and not the US military.” Xander crossed his arms. “It’s even too hot for the CIA?”

“That region is combustible,” Mitch answered, tone deadly serious.

Good. Wes was glad it was chaotic because that would make hunting these assholes down and getting revenge even easier.

“The pirates in this area are considered to be among the most dangerous and nefarious in the world,” Mitch added. “Be smart and, above all, be careful.”

“We will,” Brand assured him.

“Keep in touch. I want daily reports,” Mitch said.

“Roger. We’ll talk soon.” Brand nodded at Wes who disconnected the call. “Let’s figure out a plan.”

“Yeah, time to hang some pirates,” Wes said, voice low and deadly. He planned to kill every last one. For his own piece of mind, but, most importantly, for Ellie.