Stranger Mine: a Base Branch novel Read Online Free

or not. Why haunt himself further with images that would be so similar to the alternate lockup where they’d send the next shipment?
    Two balls of explosive clay warmed in his hands. When he stopped, the structure loomed overhead like a monster. Ryan extended his hand toward the corner and placed one ball on the exterior where one point of structural load met the corner post. He slipped a charge from the ruck draped over his chest and pressed the metal end into the pliable material.
    “You fucking coward.” His own voice sounded harsh to his ears.
    Why could he kill people? Stare a bullet, blade, or bully in the eyes and never blink, but not speak his fucking mind? If he wasn’t going to radio the commander and tell him to hell with his plan, if he wasn’t going to tell his mother he’d had enough of her running his life, then by God, the least he could do was face down the interior of a building and rig it to blow into a million tiny pieces correctly.
    Ryan’s hand slid over the L-shaped handle and yanked the lever toward the ground. The blasted thing only budged an eighth of an inch. Locked. He didn’t have shit for time to find a key, and he didn’t feel like getting shot by ricochet. His size fourteens glistened as he raised his knee to his chest. Ignoring the blood, Ryan slammed his heel into the metal. Once. Twice. The third blow sent the handle skittering over the rocks. With a flip of the locking mechanism, he opened the door and hung in suspended animation for several heartbeats.
    Of all the times for his cock to rear its head, staring into the wary brown eyes of a woman chained to a wall was the worst possible time—even if the sight of her made his heart race as though he’d just completed a HALO leap out of the cargo hole without his chute. Thank the extraction gods he’d been trained in high stress, and even higher danger, situations for the last seven years. Finally the experience kicked his ass into gear.
    “My name is Ryan Noble. I won’t hurt you.” He spoke in Spanish, using as gentle a voice as he could muster while the lower half of his body attempted mutiny. “I’m going to place some explosives. Then I’ll release you.”
    Her back remained rigid against the gray cinderblock wall. Leanly muscled arms peeked out from a white tank. As though they had also bound her legs to her narrow chest, her knees nearly grazing the bottom of her chin. Fear may have hidden someplace deep inside her sweaty exterior, but curiosity and suspicion ran the schooled set of her square jaw and alert eyes. Her gaze followed his boot treads through the door and to the far wall opposite the cleat securing the length of chain to the wall.
    “Where is your home? How long have you been here? How were you captured? What’s your name? Are you injured?” In an attempt to alleviate the guarded furrow of her brow and gain some information, he talked while he worked his way toward her, placing charges as he went. Yet, each inquiry collided with stony silence.
    On the wall nearest his surprise guest, Ryan averted his gaze to the creamy clay in his hand. He observed her through his periphery and posed the same questions again in English, and then Portuguese. Irritation worked his jaw as he tossed the remaining explosives into his pack, zipped it, and slung it onto his back. Ten feet away from the captive, he crouched to give her space and protect himself.
    One last time he asked his questions, using sign language. It was worth a try. The set of her almond eyes and the slope of her pert, rounded-tip nose spoke to no other possible heritage. Dark brown hair, nearly black from the wetness, snugged to her head in a plaited braid obscured by her position. The natural tan of her complexion said Latin American. Luscious lips that didn’t fit the sharp box of her regal jaw pursed in the first hint of reaction since he’d laid eyes on her.
    But again she didn’t speak. Ryan glanced at the gray face of his watch. No more time to