Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  He used his key card to open up the door. Finn and Drake both jerked, looking guilty as hell.

  “What’s the deal?” he tried to act casual. For all he knew they were talking about his retirement.

  “The weaselly dick just WhatsApp-ed me,” Drake looked hunted. “He wants me in Kazakhstan in two days.”

  “For what?”

  “No matter how much I pressed, he wouldn’t say.”

  “Don’t go,” Finn said emphatically.

  “I’m going with you,” Clint said.

  Finn stood up, furious. “Nobody’s going!”

  “Finn, this isn’t just about the video anymore,” Clint said. “There is something really wrong with a senator’s aide in the country of Kazakhstan. Do you realize how perilous that is? Do you know what’s gone on over there in the last two years?”

  Score one for Team Archer, his memory was on-point about miscellaneous trivia again.

  “Of course, I do,” Finn’s eyes flashed.

  “Then you know they’re now the new Swiss bank for international bad guys, and anyone who wants to hide money. For all we know they’re laundering money as well. This is not good, not good at all. This probably leads back to the senator. We’ve got to cut this cancer out of our government.”

  “Send someone else, call the CIA. Drake, you’re not going to risk your career doing an off-the-books mission like this. If you get caught, you’re off the team.”

  “If that video gets out, I’m off the team. You know there are plenty of places that would pick me up and pay me a damn sight more than Uncle Sam. I’ll live. But I want to stop these two pricks from whatever they’re doing.”

  “Same,” Clint said.

  “Ah hell, Clint, you don’t even remember them,” Finn shook his head in disgust.

  “I might not remember Syria, Dick-Weasel, and the senator, but I know Kazakhstan. You want to go a few rounds? Bet I can beat you in Eurasia Trivial Pursuit.”

  Drake laughed. “Don’t take the bet, Finn. Even at his most brain-damaged, he’ll beat your ass.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Clint said wryly, as he shot Drake the finger.

  Drake held up his hands. “Hey, it was a compliment.”

  “Anyway, I’ve caught up on them now, and everything I’ve read I don’t like. Hell, the senator just skated on insider trading charges. He was associated with that absolute bastard who took over that company and then started charging fifty times the amount for that diabetic drug. And everything you’ve told me about the weasel has made my head hurt.”

  “Your head is hurting?” Finn pounced on him.

  “No, it was a figure of speech.”

  “Bullshit. You had a headache two days ago after we went around,” Drake said and turned to Finn. “You wouldn’t know about it, you were out at that barbeque place picking up dinner and having phone sex with Angie.”

  “Fine, I had a headache,” Clint admitted. “Everybody on Earth occasionally suffers from headaches, but it wasn’t a debilitating migraine this time. I could still function.” Clint turned to Finn. “Drake’s right, we’ve got to go. You know we can’t send in one alone unless our back is to the wall. But we have options, so it’s a two-man op. We’re going to need you on this side of the world to get us updates and Drake and I will check things out over there.”

  “Clint, nothing personal, man, but you’re not one-hundred percent, it should be me that goes,” Finn said solemnly.

  “No,” Drake and Clint said simultaneously.

  “You have a career to lose. I’m on the hook,” Drake said. “Clint is just playing hooky from the spa for a couple of days. We’ll say he went home to San Diego.”

  “Oh really?” Finn said sarcastically. “You think it’s going to be that easy to check Clint out?”

  “Sure it will,” Clint grinned. “With you arranging it, it will be a breeze. Say it’s in celebration of my halfway mark. Seriously, I’ve been here three weeks, they were thinking one to three months. This could be halfway through the program, right? So I went home to see Lydia.”

  Finn slowly sank down on the loveseat and put his head in his hands. “Fine, it’s you two going. But you have to promise me to stay alive. You know that, right?”

  “I’m telling you, this will be slicker than snot,” Drake said with a grin.

  20

  “Why is everybody calling this place Astana, when the name is Nur-Sultan?” Drake asked.

  “They just changed the name from Astana to Nur-Sultan last year. Not everybody has gotten on board,” Clint said off-handedly as he took in the science fiction architecture of Kazakhstan’s capital city. “This place is eerie. It’s like coming across an ancient city in the middle of the jungle or something.”

  “Did you not notice that it was nothing but grasslands as we flew in?” Drake asked dryly. “No jungle here, my man, just freezing-cold grasslands and the set of the next Space Odyssey movie.”

  It was January and ten below zero as they walked along the pristine boulevard, away from their ultra-modern hotel. They were supposed to get more instructions tonight, so they had time to look around. Both men couldn’t help themselves. Clint had done some research on this city before they left the US, but pictures hadn’t done it justice. He’d known it had been designed by world-renowned architects, and he’d known it would be amazing, but not anything like this.

  As he and Drake made the long trek toward the Baiterek Monument, Clint looked for any piece of trash, a cigarette stub, anything that might hint at regular people living here, but found nothing. Soon they were looking one hundred meters up in the air to the majestic yellow orb that sat delicately amidst flared-out poles of highly polished metal that was supposed to resemble poplar branches. This was supposed to be the tree of life, and that was the egg laid by the bird of happiness.

  When Clint explained that to Drake, he snorted.

  “I bet the people who live here don’t believe that happy horseshit, pun intended. There is nothing happy about this sterilized environment. I wouldn’t be surprised if you get sent to the gulag if you spit out your gum.”

  He looked around the almost deserted streets. Very few people were out and about. There were more gardeners and cleaners than there were actual residents of the city.

  “How many people go to jail here on a daily basis, Clint? Did you get that statistic, or were you too blown away by the crazy architecture?”

  “Nobody who should go to jail ever ends up in jail. All of this quirky beauty masks a lot of crime.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Inside, where there’s heat,” Clint grinned. “We’re the shmoes out sightseeing.”

  “I can’t wait to work the bird of happiness into my stories to Andrew. Even little Tee likes to listen in. Karen says that it’s the sound of my voice that makes her smile.”

  Clint loved seeing the gooey expression on Drake’s face when he talked about his children. He wished to God that he and Lydia had gotten to that point in life.

  Drake stamped his feet and put his gloved hands under his arms.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” Clint asked.

  “The look on your face just turned dark. What gives?”

  “I’m cold.”

  “We’ve been cold for an hour, but now you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios. Tell me what gives.”

  Clint's shoulders slumped. “Let’s head back to the hotel. It’s true, I am cold. As for what’s got me down? I’m not married. I don’t have kids.”

  “So, ask your woman to marry you.”

  “I already did,” Clint said darkly. “Remember, you were at the engagement party.”

  “So, what’s the hold-up?”

  “Lydia’s, the hold-up. I’ve asked her every six months when we can plan the wedding, all I get from her is ‘soon.’”

  Drake stared at Clint, dumbfounded. “What the fuck?”

  “Exactly. I don’t know what’s going on with her either.�
�

  “Not her, you,” Drake exclaimed. “Brother, I know you’re not me. But geez, even you can’t be that patient. Haven’t you gotten in her face and asked her what in the hell is going on?”

  “Of course, I have. She told me to trust her, that she’s waiting for the right time.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Clint, you let her get away with that? You didn’t push more and demand to know what in the hell was making her wait? What the hell was stopping her from going the distance?”

  “Drake, you don’t understand. Every single time I’ve pushed her, every damn time, she turned into a different Lydia. She was this fragile woman who looked like she could shatter in my arms. I was scared to push anymore. I didn’t want to lose her.”

  “Lydia isn’t going anywhere, trust me.”

  Clint shook his head. Those were memories that were seared into his brain. It might only be one percent of their relationship, if even that, but since he had woken up from the hospital, it had taken up tons of his bandwidth. Only those three days of togetherness in their home had started to alleviate his fears. Made him think that they were destined for one another. But since he’d left her back in San Diego the doubts had crept back in. He’d even talked to the psychologist at Desert Vista about it. Dr. Martin said this was common. It hadn’t made him feel any better.

  Then, as if just thinking about her had conjured her, Lydia’s distinctive ring-tone sounded on his phone. He did some quick math and realized that since it was two p.m. in Nur-Sultan, it was midnight in San Diego.

  “Hi, Honey, isn’t this a bit late for a call?” he yawned.

  “Don’t bullshit me. You’re in Kazakhstan,” she bit out. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

  Drake raised an eyebrow. Clint mouthed ‘busted.’

  “Keeping tabs on me?”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.”

  “And doesn’t this just prove me right? Tell me what in the hell is going on.”

  “Lydia, I promise to tell you everything when I get back to California.” Clint forced a smile into his voice.

  “Don’t even think you’re getting away with this. Let Drake know I’m going to tell Karen if you don’t give me the four-one-one on this. Now spill.”

  Clint knew his phone was secure, but what he didn’t know was if there were any parabolic sound-collecting dishes within hearing distance. After all, this country had been part of the Soviet Union not so long ago. “Lydia, I’m not somewhere where I can talk right now.”

  “Well, you better get somewhere fast. I have Karen on speed dial.”

  He couldn’t let this get any worse than it was.

  “I hear you. Give me forty-five minutes to get back to our room and sweep it.”

  “Makes sense,” she admitted. “I’ll give you an hour.”

  “Good,” he said into his phone. But it was dead.

  “Trouble?”

  “Big fucking trouble. For both of us. She knows we’re both here, and if we don’t come clean, she’s going to tell Karen you’re here.”

  “What?” Drake roared. “She has no business doing that.”

  “You’re just a magnet for blackmail this month.” Clint was talking to thin air as Drake started hot-footing it back toward the hotel.

  Clint followed, whistling. Lydia had been keeping tabs on him and was pissed as hell. And he felt nothing but amusement and admiration. No rage, no anger—nope, he was happy. Okay, he was going to get his ass handed to him when he told her what was going on, but he was pretty sure he could handle that. Hell, he was looking forward to it. Lydia was at her best when she was riled up. She turned him on. It was a shame that she was halfway around the world and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  “Speed it up,” Drake yelled back at Clint. He hadn’t realized that Drake was already a good ten meters in front of him. Letting his mind wander to Lydia could do that to him. This was going to be fun.

  Clint had hidden the bug-tracking device in a camera so that when their baggage had been searched they wouldn’t be questioned. It had worked like a charm. They’d been wearing suits and heavy woolen coats that they’d purchased in a boutique in Palm Desert, so that had helped expedite their entry into Kazakhstan as well.

  “Got two,” Clint said. “One was a camera in the drapery rod, the other was a listening device in the desk phone. Sloppy.”

  “Why’re you talking?”

  “I’ve already turned on the blocker, I doubt anyone is monitoring the live video feed. We should have time for Lydia’s phone call, then Dick-Weasel’s call at seven o’clock tonight.” Clint had handled everything in under forty minutes. He didn’t want to wait for Lydia’s call, so he called her.

  “Hello, Beautiful,” he started the call on speaker. “Now it really is past your bedtime.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Archer,” she growled. “What the hell are you doing out of the clinic? Why are you in Kazakhstan? And make it good, otherwise, I’m calling Karen and Mason.”

  Clint’s smile split his face.

  “I don’t respond well to blackmail, Lydia.” Drake’s voice menaced.

  “Then you shouldn’t have recruited Clint into this scheme, whatever it is.” Her voice was just as menacing.

  Drake’s head shot up and he looked even more pissed when he saw Clint’s shit-eating grin. “This is not funny, Archer.” He pounded his fist on the desk. “Get your woman under control.”

  Clint threw back his head but somehow managed to stifle his laugh.

  “I’m a detective in the SDPD; if you think Clint can get the little woman in control, you’re dumber than a box of rocks, you Neanderthal. I’m tempted to call Karen just to tell her you said that.”

  “Lydia—” Drake started.

  “And you, Archer, you damn well shouldn’t be laughing, because I know you are.”

  She knows me well.

  “I’m going to cut off your balls and fry them up for breakfast when you come home. Now tell me what the hell is going on!” Clint winced, and it wasn’t because of her threat, it was because he heard the nascent fear in her voice. It killed him. He liked it better when she was a ball-buster.

  “Lydia, this is a quick, in-and-out mission, I promise,” Clint tried to soothe.

  “But it’s off the books, isn’t it? What has Drake gotten himself into?”

  “Hey, it could be Clint’s gotten himself into trouble, and I’m helping him,” Drake protested.

  Lydia snorted, “Yeah, sure. Now spill it.”

  Clint rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Lyd, how much have you pieced together, and don’t tell me it’s nothing. If you’ve tracked us down, you’ve figured out some pieces already.”

  “I know you’re using some of the same sources I do for my work. When Diamond couldn’t get ahold of you, he called me. I pretended it was one of our joint ops so he gave me info to pass along to you. I know you’re trying to break into WhatsApp. I know you two bought last-minute tickets to Kazakhstan that cost the moon and back. That’s it so far.”

  “Wait a minute, have you got the code to break into someone’s WhatsApp account?”

  Hot damn!

  “Sure do.” Clint could hear the satisfaction in Lydia’s voice.

  “When did you get it? We need it. This is critical.”

  “I got it five hours ago while you were on the plane. If you want it, you have to spill your story.”

  “I’m in a jam,” Drake started. “On the same mission where Clint was injured, we rescued a senator and one of his aides. The aide was a whiney asshole named Devon, who was hellbent on getting us all killed. I tried to explain to him that he needed to stop it, that he was going to get the other civilians in the party killed. He didn’t give a shit.” Drake sneered. “He was an asshole squared.”

  “Okay,” Lydia said slowly. “And that relates to Kazakhstan how?”

  “Well, I might have threatened to paint a b
ullseye on his forehead and throw him in front of some tanks.”

  “Sounds like he deserved it.” There was satisfaction in Lydia’s voice.

  “Somebody caught me on video, I think it was him. They edited it to make me look like a crazy man. He’s threatened to release it to the top Navy brass, to begin with, then if they don’t oust me, he’ll blast it all over social media and I’ll be ruined.”

  “Again, you haven’t answered my question—you’re in Kazakhstan why?” she prompted.

  “He told me to get over here, that there’s a job he wants me to do. He’ll tell me in three hours what it is. He’ll do it over his compromised burner phone, or in WhatsApp, that’s why we need to hack his account. It’s obvious that these guys have something on Devon and possibly the senator.”

  “Why not just stay in the states and tell him you’re in Kazakhstan?” Lydia asked.

  “Clint, you’re up,” Drake said.

  “Right now Kazakhstan has become a hotbed for laundering money and storing illegal money,” Clint explained. “The British are filing cases against some of the biggest offenders on this. So it’s possible that Devon and the senator got caught up in one of those cases and are trying to cover up their tracks. Or it’s possible that the corrupt bankers in Kazakhstan are holding their money. There’s been a lot of instances of that lately, too.”

  “Fine, that tells me why Devon could have his panties in a twist about Kazakhstan. But what’s Drake’s part in all of this?”

  “Once he tells us Drake’s assignment, then we’ll know who’s squeezing that little weasel and the senator. What we’re hoping is that then we can turn it around on Devon and squeeze him,” Drake said.

  “Mmmm,” Lydia said through the phone. Clint could see her in his mind’s eye, cocking her head to the side and contemplating what Drake had just said. “Do you think the Kazakhstan people have been talking to him via WhatsApp?”

  “Absolutely,” Clint said. “It’s one of the most secure ways to communicate right now, the end-to-end encryption scrambles messages so only the two people communicating to one another can hear the calls or see the messages. Hopefully, Dick-weasel did a lot of communicating via messaging, because those we should be able to access with the WhatsApp code that the Israelis developed. The phone calls were never stored. So we need it, now.”