Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  Keith’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Where is Owen?”

  Her protective instincts flared. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

  His eyes flashed with a hard, harsh light. “I need to get him back to rehab. Tonight. He’s just revealed details of an op he swore an oath to keep secret. He’s bound to be looking to score heroin right now. I need to find him before he does.”

  Jesus. What have I done? “I reached him at his aunt’s. He gave me a cell phone number. Lee Scott should be able to track him through the number.” She retrieved the number from her phone, then turned again for the door.

  Again, Keith’s hand stopped her. The fingers that had touched her everywhere, that had made her gasp and cry out with pleasure, were now hard and unforgiving against the bare skin of her arm. “You aren’t leaving without telling me what Owen told you. You owe me that much.”

  She paused. What did she owe him? She’d paid him back for the orgasms in kind. Dinner and a hotel room?

  A few hours ago, she’d thought she owed him a town house, but now? She had a feeling this had been about him all along.

  But fine, he wanted to know what Bishop said? She’d tell him. He was the only fucking person in the world she could tell, because there was no way this would ever go in any official Navy report, and he damn well knew it. “He said he was injured in a firefight that ensued after you fragged a UN force commander.”

  Keith’s gaze dropped to the floor. For one brief moment, he had no poker face, confirming her accusation.

  Pathetic, feeble hope that Bishop might have been wrong fled. “You did it, didn’t you? You shot Major General Kassa.”

  He met her gaze straight on. “Yes.” Then he marched to the door and jerked it open. “Dominick, take her to a new safe house. I’m done with her.”

  Chapter 15

  Owen had remembered. He knew Keith had shot the East African major general who’d been in charge of his nation’s UN peacekeeping force. It shouldn’t surprise Keith, yet it did. When Owen was in recovery, he’d said he didn’t remember anything for hours—maybe days—before he was injured. A blow to the head could do that to a man.

  Keith and the team had agreed not to tell Owen—if he didn’t remember, he couldn’t tell anyone what had really happened. But obviously, at some point the memory had returned, and now it haunted him.

  Based on Trina’s hostility, Keith figured Owen hadn’t remembered the context. He didn’t understand why. His wound had required brain surgery. Physical therapy. He’d been in recovery for over a year.

  Did he remember that Keith had made the kill shot without Owen, his spotter? If so, that would only confuse him more. And this wasn’t just any kill shot, but one that had the potential to start an all-out war. Archduke Franz Ferdinand had nothing on a rising UN force commander—the number of countries involved…not to mention the treaties and the UN charter for the mission… A charter he’d violated with one bullet and a precision shot.

  Keith hadn’t wanted anyone on his SEAL team involved. But he’d needed help. Josh. Mikey. Leo. Owen. And Keith. The team he’d gathered to pull it off, plus five more who were in position in the camp should the op fall apart. In all, ten SEALs knew what went down, and Keith was confident no one but Owen would ever talk.

  And for years, they’d clung to the belief Owen didn’t remember.

  In spite of everything, Keith would never, ever regret taking action. He couldn’t have lived with himself if it had been another Srebrenica. But it seemed that without all the facts, Owen couldn’t live with himself now. Add chronic pain from the head wound, and it was easy to see why he’d turned to drugs.

  Lee was quick to agree to track Owen through his cell phone—no questions asked. Keith had a feeling Curt had vouched for him at some point, and he swallowed the bitterness of having gained Curt’s and Lee’s trust but not Trina’s.

  Well, that little experiment in attempting an actual relationship had burned out fast. His gut clenched as he followed Lee’s directions, zeroing in on Owen’s location based on pings from cell phone towers. What was he thinking getting involved with a woman who’d made it clear from the start that she wanted to expose Somalia?

  And now… Would she?

  She’d be fired. Top-secret clearance meant she could keep a secret, not expose it. And if she did… The only way the US could avoid retaliation would be if Keith paid the ultimate price. He’d have to admit he’d taken action without orders. Cop to treason, or worse.

  Prison…. Hell, they could even send him to Gitmo. The NSA leaks, Snowden and the others, what they’d done was nothing compared to fragging a UN force commander. And Keith would never be able to reveal why. The Pentagon—his ally in the cover-up—would turn on him and nail his ass to the wall to avoid a complete breakdown of NATO and the UN.

  Trina wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She was smart, if the letters PhD after her name meant anything. She’d understand the stakes. She’d keep her mouth shut. She wouldn’t sell out her country for a book deal.

  He hoped.

  But then, this was the same woman who’d slept with him, then had the gall to ask him if he were a murderer. So maybe brains she had, but judgment of character? Not so much.

  Face it, when it came to Trina, he’d been wrong from the start. He’d been thinking with his dick, and now he might end up paying the ultimate price.

  What would it be like to be a SEAL locked up with a bunch of terrorists?

  He’d take the fall for his country without question, but he’d swallow a bullet before he’d be consigned to Gitmo.

  Another ping. This one a few blocks away. Deep in the run-down projects of southeast DC. Owen was definitely trying to score drugs. Keith had to find his spotter before the needle found a vein.

  Curt faced Trina across the conference table. Sean remained outside the room. “You need to tell me, Trina. I do have security clearance. Attorney general is a cabinet position.”

  Hell, as AG, the man was seventh in line for the presidency. But she couldn’t form the words. Who the hell had put her up to this? And why? That was the question they needed to answer, and she’d told Curt that already. Mara had gone through her files and could find no record of the assignment. It had never passed through her, which meant it hadn’t come from the Pentagon.

  As far as they could tell, the assignment originated in Walt’s e-mail, which made no sense.

  Curt fixed her with a hard stare. “You said this directly relates to the bombing—at least you think it does—which means you are withholding evidence about what may have been a terrorist act. One that could have killed you. Keith. Your coworkers. Mara.” His voice dropped on his wife’s name.

  This was so damn convoluted, she couldn’t keep it straight. Mara’s uncle had been vice president when Keith had shot the UN force commander. Andrew Stevens had to know what had happened. But she believed Mara when she said she knew nothing and had no part in the assignment falling to Trina. The woman was a patriot who’d devoted herself to bringing home the remains of servicemen and women prior to taking a job with the NHHC. No way would she be involved in trying to expose what had happened in Somalia.

  “I can’t tell anyone, Curt. Not even you. Some secrets are too big.”

  Shit. Wasn’t Curt vetting Keith for the job with Raptor? Well, she’d nicely destroyed that dream for Keith. But then, Keith might be going to prison for murder. “Did Keith shoot Ruby?”

  “No. He was on the phone with me when it happened.”

  “How do you know he didn’t shoot him, then call you?”

  “Because I had an FBI agent staking out the place too. I appreciate Raptor’s assistance and wanted input from Keith, but make no mistake, this is an FBI investigation.”

  “I should have guessed that.” Suddenly, she felt horribly dumb. Naïve. “You’ve been running the show the whole time, haven’t you?”

  “As much as I can. If we’d known you were the target from the start, you’d have been in protective custody. Bu
t since Keith was the likely target, I was content to let Raptor provide your security.”

  “You knew about Mara pretending to be me.”

  “Yes.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not a controlling asshole. I wasn’t having you—or Mara—followed. We were tracking Keith, but when my agents kept losing his trail, I contacted Alec Ravissant and insisted he keep me posted on Keith’s whereabouts.”

  “Did Keith know this?”

  Curt shrugged. “He signed a form authorizing a full background check. I wasn’t required to provide details on my methodology.”

  “So he’s been a suspect all along.”

  “No. Material witness. And if I didn’t have the authorization, I’d have gotten a warrant. It was just easier since Keith signed off on the background check, and Alec had his own reason to keep me in the loop.”

  “But you don’t trust Keith,” she pressed. Her emotions toward him were so confused, she wanted Curt’s take.

  He leaned forward and studied her. Finally, he said, “There was a recommendation for a commendation for Keith in his file. I was curious about that. The reason stated seemed to be an unremarkable op in Afghanistan four years ago. It appeared, from the paper trail, the recommendation stalled in a very unusual place—the office of the vice president.”

  Trina sat up straight. “Mara’s uncle?”

  Curt nodded. “Last week, I went to visit Andrew.”

  The former vice president was currently in a minimum-security prison for white-collar criminals—and Curt Dominick was the man who’d put him there. “I don’t imagine he was thrilled to see you.”

  “Quite the contrary, Andrew and I have become friends. Of a sort.” He smiled. “Andrew wouldn’t answer any of my questions when it came to Senior Chief Petty Officer Keith Hatcher. He only said the recommendation was ill-advised. Now, I don’t know about you, but when a former vice president knows the name, rank, and service record of a random enlisted Navy SEAL—whom he has never met—I start to wonder.”

  Trina sat forward, uneasy with Curt’s tone. “Whatever happened in Afghanistan must have warranted notice.”

  “But the Afghanistan op was insignificant, as I said. It’s barely even classified. Andrew put the kibosh on a commendation, which makes me wonder if there is a dirty secret in Keith’s past, something the top brass knows about— right up to the head of the executive branch.” Curt’s tone turned angry. “Something the Pentagon didn’t condone but was forced to cover up. International relations get tricky when military action is involved.”

  She frowned. “But if he did something that awful, he’d have been forced from the Navy. Dishonorable discharge at the very least.”

  “Not if what he did was so bad the powers that be were forced to cover up his crime for him. Hell, if they tried to eject him he could threaten to expose the cover-up.”

  “At his own expense? That makes no sense. And if he did something that awful, surely he’d have a good reason? Keith is a good man. I’ve read his service record—it’s exemplary. He’s a patriot who enlisted right after September eleventh. He’s given his entire adult life to the military. Surely he—” She stopped upon hearing the entreaty in her voice. And the ring of truth in her words.

  Curt sat back and smiled. Then he winked at her.

  Shit. She’d just been manipulated by a master. “You aren’t suspicious of Keith at all, are you?”

  “No. Everything I’ve learned about him in the last week tells me that whatever he did, he did it for a reason. You seemed to be the one who was struggling with doubt.”

  The drive to the rehab center would take several hours, time Keith didn’t have to spare. He’d called Josh, who agreed to take Owen back to rehab. The center had the right to refuse to let him back in—but if there was anyone who could convince them to take him back, it was Josh. He was a far better diplomat than Keith would ever be.

  It made him ill to think of the jeopardy Josh, Owen, and the others faced. His fault. All his fault. He never should have reopened his door that Sunday morning after Trina said she wanted to know about Somalia. He should have deleted her e-mails unread. He never should have gotten involved with her.

  He’d been selfish, reaching for what he wanted in spite of the risks. He had no right to endanger his team that way. And Trina was now in danger too.

  Owen mumbled something. He was stretched out in the backseat. Not an OD, thank God. Just exhausted, stressed. He’d been tapering with meds in rehab and hadn’t gotten his dose today. Withdrawal had kicked in. Owen was unable to sleep but also unable to think or argue. Thankfully, Keith had caught up with him before he’d scored.

  Keith pulled up in front of Josh’s small house in McLean, Virginia. Darkness had begun to fall, and the residential street was quiet. Josh met him out front, and they shook hands, then together they transferred a shaking, sweating Owen to the back of Josh’s car, where he lay down across the length of the seat.

  Keith met Owen’s bleak, pained eyes before his head dropped onto the cushion, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Keith placed a hand on Owen’s ankle. “You’ll beat this. We’ll help you. Always.”

  “I told her. I told her everything.” The words were muttered, hard to decipher, but the most coherent thing he’d uttered since Keith found him in the alley next to a liquor store trying to cut a deal. Owen grabbed his hair and pulled. “I’m sorry. I’m such a fuckup. I—” He choked on a sob. “I shouldn’t have—” He twisted and buried his face in the seat.

  “It’s okay, Owen. We can trust her. She’ll never tell. She’d never do anything to hurt you.” Or me. The ache in Keith’s gut began to ease. If he hadn’t been so damn desperate to find Owen, he’d have seen that sooner.

  He tucked Owen’s legs up as if his friend were an invalid, closed the door, then leaned against it. “We need to know who lured him out,” he said to Josh.

  “I didn’t get any leads at the rehab center and haven’t been able to reach Owen’s aunt. You’ve ruled out the historian?”

  Remembering Trina’s protective attitude toward Owen, he shook his head. “I don’t think she knew he’d been in rehab. It’s hard to believe she would have set up the meeting if she’d known.”

  He’d misjudged her, but then, she’d misjudged him too.

  Josh nodded toward the back of his car. “Did you mean what you said to Owen? Can we trust her?”

  “Yes. She’s smart. She knows what’s at stake.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “However, from her attitude it appears Owen didn’t tell her why I shot Kassa. My guess is he doesn’t remember that part.”

  Josh frowned. “Whoever was so eager for her to find out about Kassa probably doesn’t give a crap about why.”

  “Yeah. And that’s a problem. I hate dropping Owen and running, but I need to get back to the city. She was set up. He was set up. Someone wanted her to know what happened, and that puts her at risk.”

  “You think their next move will be to go after her now that she has useful intel?”

  Keith nodded. He believed manipulating Trina had been the goal from the start—because she was the best bet to get someone from Keith’s team to talk—and now she knew something that had been deeply buried by no less than the Pentagon. A chill of fear slid down his spine. She’s well guarded. He cleared his throat. “She’s safe for the moment, but as soon as she leaves the DOJ, she’s vulnerable.”

  Dammit, in the heat of anger, Keith had told Dominick to find her a new safe house. Dipshit move, which he’d correct the moment he got back on the road and could call the attorney general.

  Josh frowned. “You shouldn’t have left her.”

  “I needed to find Owen.” And, truthfully, he’d needed to get his thoughts in order where she was concerned. “I left her with the AG. And a bodyguard. She’s safe.”

  Josh opened the driver’s door on his car. “Go find her. I’ll call the others, bring them up to date, and take care of Owen. Stay safe.”

  Keith nodded. “Y
ou too.”

  Chapter 16

  Constitution Avenue was busy as evening shifted to night, but then, Constitution was always busy. Sean was driving, and Trina sat in the passenger seat, feeling utterly defeated. They were headed to another safe house. One without Keith.

  She might have inadvertently caused his friend to relapse and called him a murderer. He’d never forgive her, and she couldn’t blame him.

  Sean’s cell phone rang, and he hit the Speaker button. “Bring Trina back,” Curt said, his voice carrying more tension than he usually revealed. “I just heard from the team searching Ruby’s apartment. We have confirmation the guy was a Julian Assange wannabe. Homeland Security has been looking for this guy ever since a website leaked sensitive Pentagon documents on an anti-US government website.”

  Cold dread spread from Trina’s belly outward. “Are you talking about RATinformant dot com?”

  “Yeah. It appears Ruby’s avatar was Gopher. His partner Mouse is still at large.”

  Trina had never been to the website, but she knew thanks to the media coverage surrounding the Pentagon leak that the group capitalized the letters in RAT because they stood for “Revealing All Truths” and their avatars were all rodents: Gopher, Mouse, Muskrat, and Beaver, with Gopher and Mouse being the site owners and operators. Antigovernment activists with branding.

  “Trina, we think they were trying to use you to get military secrets they could publish on the website. Mara’s research into the initial assignment hasn’t turned up a damn thing. All we know is it didn’t come from the Pentagon or the Navy. She’s trying to figure out how it got into Walt’s e-mail.”

  Dread turned to nausea. She had met with Gopher, because he wanted to use her to get information he couldn’t access otherwise. Before she took this job—and certainly before she’d completed the security clearance process—she’d been informed that any contact with WikiLeaks or RATinformant, or any of the other government leak websites put her at risk of being charged with communicating with the enemy. It was one of the reasons she’d never visited any of the freaking sites—even though some of the documents uploaded would probably help with her research.