Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “Please tell me that can’t be done,” Drake begged.

  “Watch and learn,” Clint smiled.

  Clint used Drake’s SIM card, the special program he had on his computer, and the burner phone. He worked for ten minutes, then he gave back Drake’s SIM card so he could re-install it into his phone. “Hold on while I call your phone number from my phone, Drake.”

  As soon as Clint dialed, Drake’s phone rang and so did the burner phone, Clint answered that at the same time and held the receiver to his chest.

  Clint nudged Drake to answer the call on his phone, and he did. “Talk, sing a song, do anything,” Clint urged Drake.

  Drake started to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Clint took the burner phone away from his chest and put it on speaker. There in stereo, was Drake reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in person and over the speaker of the burner phone.

  Drake stopped speaking and pressed ‘end’ on his phone. “You’re one scary dude.”

  “That’s what the United States Navy pays me for. Unfortunately, WhatsApp is a little more complicated than this, and it will take more than a minute or two.”

  Clint frowned as he got in front of the big monitor again and typed in Drake’s login and password. He hissed through his teeth. The only conversation that could be found was from the last forty-eight hours. Looked like Devon had been smart and deleted the old stuff.

  “Drake, how familiar are you with WhatsApp?” Clint asked.

  “Hell, my three-year-old Andrew probably knows more than I do. I downloaded the program like he asked and started communicating with him that way. I can communicate on my phone or on my computer.”

  “Which way do you normally access the application?” Clint asked.

  “My phone. But I gotta tell you, I forget about it. I’m so used to checking my messages, it’s not until he reminds me to go to WhatsApp that I go over to it.”

  “This is going to be a tough one to get around. I can eventually install some malware from your phone into his, so we can route his incoming calls to the second burner phone I bought. But the good stuff is going to be on his WhatsApp. I’m going to have to ask around to get the malware that the NSO Group designed. I’m going to need to tap some people who go to the dark, dark, dark web. This is going to cost.”

  “I don’t get it, what is this malware? Why is it so secret, and why does it cost so much?”

  “Remember when that reporter was killed? His WhatsApp account was hacked with this malware. So was the head of Amazon—that’s how they ended up hacking his phone, through his WhatsApp account using this malware.”

  “Hasn’t WhatsApp fixed this bug so nobody can hack it anymore?”

  “They’ve done some upgrades, but I’m sure so has NSO, despite being sued by WhatsApp. Like that was going to stop this Israeli security company,” Clint snorted.

  He pressed some keys and immediately called up some code. Now, this was pretty. Very, very pretty. He leaned in closer to look. It wasn’t exactly what they had used, but it was a precursor to the eventual code, and it was pretty fricking impressive.

  “Do you see this?” he pointed to a particular syntax. “Look at what they did here. It’s a thing of beauty.”

  “Huh? I think you have me confused with your wife.”

  Clint looked over his shoulder and laughed. Yep, Drake sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate the delicacy of what the programmer had come up with. He went down another page of code and whistled. He called up his messenger and typed up a cryptic message to one of his most secure contacts on the dark web.

  “Who was that?” Drake asked.

  “Nobody that anybody really knows. But he owes me a favor or two. He might know a guy who knows a guy.”

  “Well, that clears that up.” Drake’s sarcasm was clear. “Maybe you ought to slow down.”

  “Nah, I’m good, it’s only a little bit over an hour,” Clint said as he looked at his watch. He called up another screen full of code. It was more exciting than the last. God, he wished Lydia were here to see this.

  “Holy hell, would you look at this!” He banged his hand on the desk in glee. He paused his cursor over the next line of code that was even better than the last. How had they even thought of this? Unbelievable.

  “What in the hell has you wetting your pants?” Drake demanded to know.

  “They have figured out a way to attach malware into this encrypted message so that it is damn near undetectable. It would pass through ninety-seven percent of all screening systems. This is gor…gor…beautiful.”

  “So why is that important?”

  “That means that when we get our hands on the actual NSO code today, it will probably be ninety-nine point nine percent unde…undect…not be able to be discovered.”

  “Are you sure this is right?” Drake asked.

  “I told you I had this handled, Drake.” Clint bit out the words as he rounded on his friend. “You need to back off now.” He rubbed his temple.

  “No, you don’t understand. I was just asking about putting malware on his phone, won’t that contaminate his WhatsApp?”

  Clint couldn’t understand what Drake was saying. It was spinning in circles around his head. His vision was fine, so it couldn’t be screen time.

  “Drake be quiet, I’m trying to think,” he roared.

  “Ah shit, you’re doing it again.” Drake touched Clint’s shoulder and Clint swiped at him. It felt like bugs were under his skin, and having Drake touch him only aggravated it.

  “Go away. Let me think.”

  Drake crouched down so he was eye level with Clint. “You need to take slow breaths, Man. Just like Finn said.”

  It took every ounce of strength Clint had not to haul off and hit Drake. Why was he so mad at him? Why wasn’t he in focus? Instead, sparks surrounded him. Lots of painful sparks, making it impossible to look at him. He slammed his eyes shut.

  Somebody took his hand and pressed it against his chest. “Feel your breaths. In and out. Breathe in through your nose. Hold it. Long slow breath out through your mouth.”

  Who was talking?

  Forever, or for minutes, or for hours, or for seconds, Clint continued to breathe. Finally, he heard Drake.

  “Let me get you a towel, you’re a sweaty mess.”

  Where am I?

  His eyes shot open. Please say he hadn’t hurt Lydia. Please, please, please. He looked frantically around the room and it didn’t look familiar.

  “I knew I pushed you. This is such a bad idea. Mason better get here soon.”

  “Drake?”

  “I’m here, man. I’m with you. You’re in Palm Desert. You checked into Desert Vista Renewal today and met with your team, now you’re in your suite here at the Hacienda Palms living the high life thanks to your brother-in-law and teammate, Jack.”

  It was starting to come back. He was slumped in an office chair in front of a huge computer monitor.

  “Fuck, I had an episode, didn’t I? What did I do? Did I take a swing at you?”

  “Nope, you passed out. You weren’t focusing, your eyes rolled up in the top of your head, and out you went.”

  Fuckity fuck fuck.

  Clint sat up straighter in the chair and clasped the edge of the desk. He turned away from the bright light of the monitor. “Turn that off,” he waved to Drake. Drake immediately shut down the laptop, and the monitor went dark.

  “Do you need the lights dimmed?”

  Clint turned his head slowly. “No, those are all right,” he sighed with relief. He yawned. “I’m sorry Drake. Apparently, I’m still trying to figure out my limits. I don’t think it was the screen time, I think it was looking at the code that did it to me.”

  Drake just stared at him.

  “What?”

  “I don’t care what it was. You did too much, and we just got done agreeing you weren’t going to FUBAR your recovery. Why don’t you take the bed in the other room and get some shut-eye? You need extra rest. In the meantime, I’ll wait for Dick-We
asel’s call.”

  “You need back-up. I don’t want you doing anything without back-up.”

  Drake raised his eyebrow. “Unlike you, I don’t intend to Fuck This Up Beyond All Recognition, now that I’m waiting on the cavalry.”

  Clint barked out a short laugh. “Yeah, like you would have brought us in if I hadn’t had taken your phone and shoved my way into the situation and then called Mason. Talk about FUBAR. You’re such an asshole, Avery,” Clint ended on a grin.

  “Right back at you, Archer. Now go to bed.”

  “I’ve got to call Lydia.”

  “Bring me your cell phone when you’re done.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t trust me to not use my phone’s internet when I’m done?” Clint wanted to know.

  “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  Clint laughed as he headed to the bedroom.

  19

  “Well, you sure are making waves, Hildalgo,” the old man chuckled as he plucked the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at her. Lydia knew he could care less, he thrived on causing a commotion in the San Diego Police Department, that was the reason they’d put Eddie Sherman in charge of the Cyber Crimes department way back in the day before anyone knew it would amount to anything, they wanted him out of the way.

  “Sorry about that, Boss.”

  “Either you’re pandering to me, or you’re lying to me, can’t say I appreciate either choice.”

  “Actually, I was just being polite like I was raised.”

  He raised one bushy white eyebrow and smiled. “That I can handle. How’s Clint?”

  She smiled. “A lot better than last week. It was good to have him home this past weekend.”

  “Do they have a real prognosis yet? It’s been five weeks since he woke up, right?”

  “Nope, it’s been seven and a half weeks. The doctors haven’t been up front with us, but he has a chance of making an almost full recovery if he doesn’t push himself too hard and follows the doctor’s orders.”

  Eddie scratched the side of his jaw and his piercing blue eyes stared at her. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’ve got info that the docs haven’t shared with you, is that what I’m hearing?”

  Lydia nodded.

  “Good for you,” he cackled.

  “Before you start shaking my hand, I wasn’t the one who hacked the system, it was one of Clint’s SEAL friends. I had my head in my hands, so to speak, as I worried about him. Hell, Boss, I don’t know why I didn’t think to dig on my own.”

  Eddie got up from behind his desk and leaned against the front so he could stand next to Lydia. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Hell, kid, cut yourself some slack. Your place was beside Clint, giving him all the support you could. You were not supposed to be the computer genius you are, that wasn’t your job.”

  Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose. In front of Eddie, she could be honest, she’d been working with him day in and day out for almost three years. He was more than just her boss, he was her mentor. “I feel like I fucked up. But I’m trying to make up for it now.”

  “How?”

  “Well, Clint doesn’t think we should be together while he’s ‘healing’ in Palm Desert.” She used air quotes around the word healing.

  “Why doesn’t he think you should be there?”

  “He has pretty significant mood swings; he thinks he could end up hurting me if he gets too angry. It’s ridiculous,” she said vehemently.

  Eddie leaned back against his desk and folded his hands. “Is it?” He was all boss and business.

  “Yes.” Again, she was vehement.

  “What would I find if I checked his records?”

  “They would say I should be worried, but they don’t know him like I do,” Lydia protested.

  “Jesus, Girly, you sound like every other victim I’ve ever talked to.” Eddie shook his head, then started to speak in a high-pitched voice, “He loves me, he’d never hurt me.”

  “He does love me, and he would never purposely hurt me,” Lydia spit out.

  Eddie bit down on his toothpick. “I hope you heard what you said, because I sure as hell did.”

  Lydia felt herself deflate. “Purposely. You mean that word?”

  “That would be the one.” Eddie’s voice was kind. Too kind. If she could, Lydia would kick herself.

  Her eyes began to sting. She blinked fast because there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to cry here in her boss’s office. She was one of the guys. She gripped the arm of her chair tightly and swallowed.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do what the doctors say. You do what Clint says. And in the meantime, you help me solve crimes.”

  Her fingernails unstuck from the leather arms of the chair. But she still wasn’t sold. “Knowing he’s out there hurting, and I’m here just living my life, seems wrong.”

  Eddie walked around his desk and sat back down. “Tell me something—don’t you feel like shit?”

  Lydia nodded.

  “Then you’re hurting too. Now that that’s solved, can we get your head back in the game here at work? I can only play counselor for so long.”

  Lydia laughed. She loved working for this cranky old man.

  “Okay, what you got?”

  “No, the question is, what have you got? My guess is you took a file home with you and you’ve been working on it. I bet I can even guess which one.”

  Lydia smirked. He’d been right on one, but he wouldn’t guess the second one.

  “You took Satanic Voices, right?”

  She nodded.

  “How far did you get on it?”

  “Far. I figured out how he’s gotten into all of their devices. The TV took me a little bit longer since it wasn’t hooked up to Bluetooth, but I figured that out as well.”

  “Shit, none of our guys have figured that out. Richards will be pissed that you nailed that while you were on leave.”

  “When isn’t Richards pissed?”

  Eddie shrugged. “But that means he’ll be gunning for you even harder. You sure you want that? I could say I figured it out.”

  “Richards is a gnit on a gnat in my world. Let him come after me, I’ll make mincemeat out of him. Wanna guess what the second file was?”

  “McKenna?”

  She shook her head. “Pearson.”

  Eddie looked puzzled. “Give me the details, I don’t remember the name.”

  “That’s where the mid-twenties woman is saying that her step-father is stalking her.”

  “That’s bullshit. We put that to the back of the cabinet. She’s some kind of celebrity wanna-be. She’s looking for one more way to get publicity.”

  “Nope, I feel it in my gut, this is real. I want to interview her.”

  “I’ve got seven more cases I’m giving you.” Eddie gestured to a pile of folders on his desk. Lydia huffed out a laugh. Cybercrimes was supposed to be a paperless environment, but with Eddie running the show, this department probably had more paper than any of the other departments in the SDPD.

  “I thought the rule was four cases per officer?”

  “You would have been in here bitching next week that you needed more work, so I’m front-loading you so I don’t have to hear it.”

  Lydia shrugged, the man was right. She took the seven folders.

  “Are you still intending to work the Pearson case?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re running a fool’s errand.”

  “I have to trust my hunches.”

  He pulled out his toothpick. “Good luck. And not just on the cases. But on everything. Be smart and keep electronic tabs on your man. If he needs help, get your ass out to the Palm Desert. But in the meantime, stay put.”

  “Aye, Aye Captain.”

  “Cut that shit out, I’m not in the goddamn Navy.”

  It had been three weeks and Clint didn’t know who was getting to him more; Dick-weasel for not contacting Drake and keeping all of them on pins and nee
dles, Lydia calling nightly and always asking how he was, or Drake and Finn assessing his every move. At least Mason had gone back to San Diego. His lieutenant vibe was seriously getting on his nerves.

  Finn was smoother. He still was always assessing Clint, but he did it in such a way that it didn’t bug the shit out of him. Drake, however, was another story.

  The Desert Vista Renewal van dropped him and Lisa off at the resort.

  “You’re not even walking with a limp anymore,” she noted as they got to the lobby. “They’re pretty sure I’m going to need a cane for the rest of my life,” she grimaced.

  “How long have you been a patient at Renewal?” Clint asked.

  “Three weeks. I had my stroke two months ago. I was in the hospital for two weeks, and then in another rehab place in Kentucky that didn’t seem to be doing me any good. My father did research, and that’s how I ended up here, but I’m not sure it’s helping.”

  “I’ve been here for about three weeks too, and I think they’re damn good,” Clint said. “I didn’t think I’d like it when I started, but I’ve seen a difference already. Ask to be changed to my physical therapist, Arnold. He’s amazing.”

  “Okay, I will. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she waved as she walked off to the elevators.

  Clint sauntered down the hall to the first-floor suite that he and Drake were sharing. He was still pondering the latest idea that the psychologist had come up with. Seemed odd. But he’d popped off at Drake again two days ago. He’d been out of control again, and it was over nothing. Sure, it was Drake, but he wanted to get his shit together. Drake might still be Drake, but he was no longer Clint Archer, and that was unacceptable. He didn’t care if his brain had been rattled by the explosion. It was un-fucking-acceptable. And here he’d thought he was getting his shit together. He didn’t care if the psychologist said that was the thing that would take the longest. It had been twenty-one days already!

  The breath he took rattled. Jesus, he wasn’t getting ready to cry, was he? God, he was more messed up than he thought. Then there was the team. Would he ever be good enough to be a SEAL again? They couldn’t have someone who wasn’t in control one hundred percent of the time. He took another deep breath, only this time it seemed to be bringing on a headache, not the calm he needed.