Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  A hand on her arm gently nudged her aside. She turned, almost expecting to see Keith, but her champion was Sean, who planted his hands on the table and leaned into Ruby’s face. “Apologize to Dr. Sorensen.”

  “Are you the guy she’s fucking now?” He met Trina’s gaze. “You sure do get around.”

  Sean grasped the front of the lieutenant’s shirt and yanked him to his feet as Trina rocked back on her heels. “Apologize to the lady.” Sean’s voice was low, carrying more than a hint of menace.

  “Lady, my ass. She’s just another whore and a government hack. I’m sick of bitches like her.”

  Sonofabitch. What the hell had Walt set her up for?

  The tables around them cleared. One woman appeared to be calling 911. Not your typical morning at Starbucks. “Let him go, Sean. He’s not worth it.” She’d been saying that a lot lately.

  He sighed. “I know. But, damn, it would be so satisfying.” He released Ruby, and the man dropped into his seat. Ruby, a former naval officer and only about ten years older than Sean, was no slouch, but he was still no match for the Raptor operative in his prime.

  Back in Sean’s car, Trina buckled her seat belt and flopped back into the seat. “I wish I knew what just happened there.”

  “What was the interview supposed to be about?”

  “Walt’s questions were about UN Security Forces post-Desert Storm.”

  Sean pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed dial button. After a moment, he said, “Keith, something strange just happened… No. Trina is fine. She’s right next to me. She was just interviewing a dickhead pilot who”—he looked apologetically at Trina—“implied she had sex with you to get you to talk.”

  “He more than implied,” Trina said, loud enough for Keith to hear. She had to admit, she was jealous Sean was able to call Keith. She didn’t even have his phone number.

  “My gut says there’s more going on here. The guy was a dick, sure, but he came spoiling for a fight and armed with your name.” Sean paused. “Will do.” Then he hit the End button and tucked his phone away. He put his car in gear and pulled into traffic.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To your office. We need to talk to Walt.”

  Keith watched Lieutenant Ruby with a riflescope from a vantage point nearly a block away from the man’s apartment in the Anacostia neighborhood. The man arrived home minutes after Keith took his position. He appeared twitchy, ready to bolt. Keith would bet good money his bag was packed; he was just waiting for his moment.

  He needed to know why this bastard had insulted Trina, and why he had mentioned Keith specifically.

  Ruby looked furtively out the window, and Keith wondered if he had gone soft or if he was just stupid. Backlit behind thin curtains, he might as well have painted a target on his face.

  Keith plucked out his phone and dialed. “Something stinks about this, Rav. Ruby is a tool.”

  “After work, Sean is going to bring Trina here. Her roommate Cressida too. I don’t like the security at her place, and I’m starting to wonder if this could be about her, not you.”

  “A safe house is a better idea. You’re knee-deep in a campaign. Too many people coming and going.”

  “She can’t join you, Keith. Not until we determine who the intended target is.”

  Keith held back a sigh. “I know that. I meant a different safe house.”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  Down the street, Ruby checked the roadway in front of his apartment again. “I think Ruby is going to rabbit.”

  “I’m sending an operative to take over surveillance. I don’t like you leaving the safe house. Give me thirty minutes.”

  “I can take care of myself. I used a surveillance detection route. No one followed me.”

  “The point of a safe house is to hide.”

  Keith grimaced. “I was going insane hiding.”

  “Then go back to the Virginia compound and use the shooting range again.”

  He’d spent two days at the compound last week, sighting in a new M110 rifle and Sig handgun, replacements for the ones he’d lost in the blast. He’d blown through hundreds of rounds to fight the frustration of knowing there’d been zero progress in the investigation of the explosion. The idea of more target shooting held no appeal. “No, thanks.”

  “After your replacement gets there, come in to the office. Lee is coming in to map out the computer issues at the Alaska compound. We can bring you up to speed on the issues at the same time.”

  “Fine.” Keith hung up and watched. Waited, all the while feeling uneasy. Anxious. At least going in to Rav’s office would give him something to do. Ten minutes passed, then his phone vibrated. Hopefully Sean had located Walt Fryer.

  No such luck. His caller was Josh Warner, a member of his SEAL team, and one of the few men who was more family to Keith than his biological brothers. He’d considered moving back to the San Francisco Bay Area when he left the service, but after his visit with his dad, he’d accepted that there was no reason to call California home anymore, and in fact, keeping the width of the continent between him and his father could only be a good thing. So he’d settled in Falls Church, and the fact that Josh lived in the DC area played a role in that choice.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Josh said.

  Keith was more alarmed by Josh’s tone than his words. After serving in the SEALs together, the problems they’d faced had ranged from a crappy dinner in the mess hall to calling for air support because insurgents had them pinned. Josh’s tone said this wasn’t a mess-hall sort of problem. “What’s going on?”

  “The rehab center just called me. Owen left.”

  Keith swore. “And they let him?”

  “They couldn’t stop him. He’s voluntary.”

  “But they’re supposed to call you before it gets to that point—”

  “Someone screwed up, that’s for sure. But the administrator said everything was going fine. Owen was doing fine. Participating. He was one of the model patients. Then he got a phone call and just…flipped out.”

  Dread snaked up Keith’s spine. “Who called him?”

  “That’s the strangest part. No one knows. Whoever it was, they knew the password, so the rehab center let Owen take the call.”

  “Shit.” Only a very small list of people knew the code word, but unfortunately, Owen’s aunt—who had medical power of attorney over the former SEAL so she had to be kept in the loop—was one of them. She was a sweet woman, with the best of intentions and only love for her broken nephew, but she also had no clue what could be at stake, and if convinced it would help Owen, she’d give up the password. He felt nauseated, but he had to ask, “Was the caller a woman?”

  “You’re thinking of the historian who contacted all of us? I thought you and she were on better terms after the explosion, and that she knows none of us will talk about Somalia.”

  If the situation didn’t suck so badly, he’d smile at the phrase “better terms.” He adjusted his scope when he caught another glimpse of Ruby in the window. “We’re on very good terms. But I still have to ask, was the caller a woman?”

  “Yes—at least the nurse thinks so.”

  That doesn’t mean it was Trina.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Keith asked.

  “No. I’m going to head north and question the staff in person. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Can you stake out his aunt’s house?”

  Keith closed his eyes. Any other time, Owen would be his first priority. Shit, the one time one of his SEAL brothers wasn’t his first priority, look what happened to Owen. If Keith hadn’t needed to cover his own ass, Owen wouldn’t be in the mess he was in now. Guilt or no guilt, Keith couldn’t watch over Owen. Not today. “I’ve got a bit of a situation myself. And it involves the historian and possibly the explosion.”

  Thankfully, Josh didn’t judge him—at least not out loud. “The explosion takes priority.”

  “I’ll call Rav and see if he can se
nd someone to the aunt’s house. Call me if you find out anything from the rehab staff.”

  “Will do. Stay safe, man.”

  Keith hung up, and almost immediately, his phone rang again. Expecting Josh had forgotten something, he was surprised to see the caller identified as Curt Dominick, and forced a shift in mental gears. He was worried about Owen, but right now he had other problems.

  He and Dominick had exchanged numbers, but the big man had yet to call Keith—a relief since Dominick’s wife had volunteered for decoy duty yesterday, and odds were he would happily nail Keith to the wall for that. And he couldn’t blame the guy. He kept his scope fixed on Ruby’s window as he answered.

  “I just received the forensic report on the initial blast. Wherever Trina is, get her out of there. Move her to your safe house. Now.”

  Adrenaline surged through Keith. “She’s at the Navy Yard.”

  Curt swore.

  Keith cleared his throat, trying to speak around the lump lodged there. “Why?”

  “The initial charge—it came from her laptop. Trina was the target all along.”

  Chapter 10

  Walt was nowhere to be found. Sean and Trina searched the historian’s floor, the cafeteria; then she led her bodyguard to Building One, where Erica’s office was located. The oldest building in the Yard, Building One had been Rear Admiral Dahlgren’s home and office during the Civil War. President Lincoln was said to have visited Dahlgren often during the war, and a portrait of the president hung in the entryway. Trina couldn’t enter the building without feeling a shiver of pride, and nodded to the Great Emancipator on her way up the stairs to Erica’s office—which had once been Dahlgren’s.

  Whenever she visited Building One, she suffered serious office envy. The underwater archaeologists didn’t suffer the whack-a-mole-like housing of cubicle life. Erica’s office was large, with a view of the Anacostia River and plenty of sunlight. But she did have to share the space, and today her officemate, Undine, was at her desk. Undine had been out of town for most of the summer overseeing the underwater excavation of a Navy airplane in Lake Superior, and Trina forgot she was due back this week. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for a lot of chitchat. “Hey, Undine, I’m looking for Walt. Have you seen him today?”

  “Trina!” Undine jumped to her feet and gave Trina a bear hug, which she returned. “How are you? I just heard—”

  “I’m fine. And I can’t wait to go out for beers and hear about your summer, but I really need to find Walt. Any clue where he is?”

  “God, no. He avoids the underwater group as if he’s afraid estrogen contact will make him start menstruating.”

  Behind Trina, Sean laughed.

  Undine’s smile lit up her face, and she held out her hand. “Undine Gray. And if you aren’t with Trina, newly single.”

  Sean laughed again, shook her hand, and introduced himself as Trina rolled her eyes. Undine was back, and frankly, she’d missed her. Undine was unabashedly forward—the best drinking buddy a single girl in a big city could ask for.

  “Sean is not with me, and I can’t wait for you to explain the word ‘newly,’ but we don’t have time now. Lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Sean, you available for dinner tonight?”

  “Busy. Sorry.”

  Undine flashed her Julia Roberts-like wide smile. “Trina can give you my number.”

  Again Trina rolled her eyes as she led Sean back down the stairs. Outside and out of earshot, Sean said, “Who was that?”

  “The biggest flirt at NHHC.”

  “Sounds like she’s on the rebound.” Sean opened the door and held it for Trina.

  She stepped inside. “She’s on permanent rebound. Hung up on a guy since forever. I love her to death, so that’s the only warning I’ll give you.”

  “Fair enough.” Turning serious, Sean said, “I think Walt took off.”

  “Yeah. Bastard. Let’s find Cressida and Mara. Maybe they know where he went.” Trina led Sean to the basement conservation lab, Cressida’s lair, as she catalogued the contents of the mystery file cabinet, which, fortunately, hadn’t been filled with VD cleansing syringes.

  Cressida glanced up from the camera table, where an old map was laid out under bright lights. Mounted on a frame above the map was a wide-angle digital camera that took high-resolution photos of documents. She straightened a bit at seeing Sean, and Trina wanted to laugh. Her bodyguard certainly had an effect on women.

  Cressida caught her smile. “What? I have a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

  For his part, Sean just smiled and crossed his arms, showing off his thick biceps in his black T-shirt. He was as ripped as Keith and possibly even as good-looking. And he knew it.

  “Cress, I’m looking for Walt or Mara. Have you seen either one?”

  “I haven’t seen Walt at all today. Mara was here, but she got a call from Curt about ten minutes ago and bolted. I think she’s looking for you.”

  Sean’s cell phone rang. He answered and, after a pause, said, “We’re in the basement conservation lab with Cressida.”

  A minute later, rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Keith appeared. He headed straight for Trina, wearing an intense, charged expression that caused her belly to flip. He pulled her to his chest and his thick arms circled her. Lips touched her forehead, then found her mouth for a hard, fierce, but sadly brief kiss.

  Still holding her, he said, “Damn, I was worried about you. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  His tone caused another belly roll, but this time not in a good way. “What’s going on?”

  “I assumed Mara already told you.”

  Now she was scared—and confused. “I haven’t seen her. I think we’ve been circling each other as we searched for Walt.”

  “They were able to piece together fragments of the bomb.” He paused. “It was in your computer.”

  The blood drained from Trina’s face, possibly even her heart. She might have fallen if it weren’t for Keith’s encircling arms. After a moment, she stepped backward out of his embrace, grabbed a chair, and dropped into it. “My computer?” She had to force the words out, which was difficult because she couldn’t breathe.

  Keith nodded. “We left it by the front door, just inside, leaning against a structural wall. The gas furnace was only six feet away on the other side of that wall, in the garage.”

  She grappled with the news. “What set it off? Was it on a timer?”

  “They haven’t been able to identify enough pieces to be certain, but odds are it was tied to the computer clock. My guess is, your trip to see me was unexpected. No one could have guessed you would head to my house—which is why you had to be the intended target.”

  She considered that day. “They couldn’t have known I’d take the computer out of the office. I left work a little early, but the Metro took forever—the trains were packed when I changed to the Orange Line at L’Enfant. By the time I got to your place, it was after five. Government offices clear out at five almost without fail. Why rig my computer to blow after working hours? Why rig my computer to blow at all?”

  Keith knelt before her and gripped her hands. “Do you usually take your computer home?”

  “Once a week—if that. I only had it that day so I could work on the Metro, since I’d left the office early.”

  “So if you hadn’t brought the computer with you, it would have exploded on your desk.”

  She nodded, grasping at the one thing that comforted. “Most—if not all—of the historians on my floor would have left the office already.”

  Keith released her hands and turned to the staircase. “I want to check out your cubicle, then I’m getting you out of here.”

  They found Mara in Trina’s cubicle, flipping through the mess of papers on her desk. She glanced up and said, “You heard?”

  Trina nodded. “My guess is someone wanted to destroy the office.” She glanced around the floor—taking in the central location of her cubicle. The pro
ximity to Walt’s.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Mara said. “But why? The only thing of interest in here was the top-secret cabinet. And it’s been moved—and declassified.” She turned to Cressida, who had followed them along with Sean. “Have you found anything in the cabinet that warrants blowing up the office?”

  “Hell, no. It’s mostly maps. Really old, really out-of-date maps.”

  Mara pushed aside the stack of papers she’d been rifling through. “Bomb specialists are coming to search your cubicle, see if there’s any explosive residue or fingerprints. They’re headed to your apartment too.”

  “I doubt they had access to the building,” Sean said, “or the bomb would have been planted in something stationary.”

  “Prior to Monday, when was the last time your computer left the office?” Keith asked.

  Trina thought back, but this question wasn’t hard. “I had it home that whole weekend—so I could e-mail you from my official work account.”

  Keith nodded. “You and Cressida were out for hours on Sunday when you went to the party. The computer was in your apartment then?”

  “Yes.”

  Keith pulled out his cell and punched some buttons. “Dominick, the computer was at Trina’s the weekend before.” He met Trina’s gaze. “Where in your apartment was it?”

  “Either the kitchen table or in a laptop bag on the floor by the bookshelf.”

  “Did you ever notice it was moved? Or anything else strange?” Keith asked.

  She closed her eyes and thought about the weekend. Nothing unusual before the party. And after—she’d been too angry with Keith to pay attention. “I don’t know.” It didn’t help that she was somewhat prone to clutter.

  To Curt, Keith said, “I’m taking Trina to the safe house, then heading to Walt Fryer’s home. I have a few questions for him.”

  “I’m going with you,” Trina said before he could hang up.