SEAL in Charge

by Donna Michaels

  “They were military?” She frowned. The attack on their Brooklyn headquarters, sure, but the stairwell? “The way Archer took them down with such ease, I find that hard to believe. Was it because he surprised them?”

  Bella’s laugh echoed her husband’s. “No, it’s because Archer is that good. He made them look like idiots because he’s elite and they weren’t.”

  She glanced at Archer and he shrugged. Sandy knew he was elite. She also knew he was too humble to boast. “Were you able to determine if the prisoners had tracking devices injected under their skin?” she asked.

  Bella shook her head. “No. We couldn’t tell from the feed. It’s possible their skin had already healed.”

  “What about Jimmy?” Archer turned his attention to Matteo. “What did you find out about him?”

  The other former SEAL leaned back against the console and folded his arms across his chest. “Entry level position. Nothing special. I’m guessing he was their way of accessing inside.”

  Accessing what?

  She frowned. “So why kill him?”

  Matteo and Bella both shook their heads.

  “Not sure,” Archer replied. “But there was definitely a reason. This rogue team doesn’t make a move unless there’s a reason.”

  She cocked her head. “So, where does that leave us? What do we do next? Should I try to investigate the DHS mole?” Her mind told her it was someone she knew, which made her heart heavy.

  “No.” Archer shook his head. “Silas is on it. Let it be.”

  She nodded.

  “Matteo and I are going to check out Rodrigo’s apartment,” Archer said. “See if that’s where...if there are any clues there.”

  It wasn’t lost on Sandy that he stopped himself from saying something that might upset her. His thoughtfulness was truthfully mind-blowing. Not that she thought of military men as brutes, but they didn’t come across as thoughtful, either. So, to see this side of Archer, and having it directed at her was...well...mind-blowing.

  Matteo straightened from the console. “Roger that.”

  “And Sandy and I are going shopping.” Bella hooked her arm through hers and tugged her toward the door.

  Sandy glanced down at her beloved sweater. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “Nothing.” The woman grinned. “I freaking love it. I want one before they’re all gone.”

  An hour later, Sandy discovered what Bella meant by shopping, was buying that sweater on their way to a local bar full of patrons with ties to the New York City.

  They were on a fishing expedition.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nodding to the waitress who dropped off drinks Bella had ordered while she’d stopped at the restroom, Sandy eyed the two glasses of...wine?

  “So, I take it we’re fishing...and drinking?”

  Bella grinned. “That’s to help your muscles relax.”

  Muscles relax?

  “Why?” She frowned.

  What in the world was the former terrorist hunter planning to do?

  “Because I can tell you’re sore. Trust me. I remember my first all-nighter with Matteo. I could barely walk.” A dreamy look entered her eyes. “It was great.” The woman sighed and reached for her wine. “The sore muscles afterward...not so much. So, drink up. Trust me, it’ll help.”

  Ignoring the surge of heat sweeping into her face, Sandy sipped her wine in order to avoid replying.

  “And now that we’re here.” Bella grinned. “I’d love to know what you think about those two men in the corner.”

  Big mouth trouble makers. “Not my type.”

  Bella snorted. “Obviously. You’re dating Captain America, why would you dally with a Dillinger wannabe?”

  Sandy smiled at the woman comparing Archer to the same superhero she had the other day.

  “I mean, use your superpowers and tell me what you see about them.” Bella nodded her head toward the corner while lifting her glass to her lips.

  Superpowers? Cute. Her lips twitched.

  “Okay.” Sipping more wine, she eyed the men in question. “Scrappy, college educated—two years, not four—but enough to make them think they’re better than their peers. They belong to a club.” They thought they were tough, and because of it they didn’t bother to keep their voices down. They wore suits, signet rings, expensive haircuts but drank cheap booze, sported identical tattoos on their right pinkies. She stilled. Right pinkie? “Wait...their tattoos are street cred for smuggling someone into the country.” She recognized them from research on an old DA case.

  “Thought so.” Bella nodded, her back still to the men. “Over a year ago, Matteo and I worked a case where someone was smuggling terrorists in via the ocean to bomb New York.”

  Sandy sucked in a breath. “Times Square. New Year’s Eve,” she muttered. “I picked up the chatter and forwarded it through channels. You were the one called in?”

  Bella grinned. “Yes, well, me and Matteo, but for separate reasons.”

  Judging by the derision in the woman’s eyes, Sandy guessed it meant the two hadn’t been on the same page. Damn. That had to be interesting.

  “Anyway,” Bella continued, “I had a hunch those two were into smuggling, and you’ve confirmed my suspicions that I’m barking up the right twig.”

  She raised a brow. “Twig? Don’t you mean tree?”

  Bella snickered. “Not with their scrawny bodies. But I suspect they may know something helpful about this case, if those Munich...people didn’t come into the country legally.”

  “Good idea.” She nodded. “Should I call Archer?”

  Bella finished her wine and shook her head. “No. He and Matteo are probably halfway to the city by now. I can handle this.” The woman dug keys from her pocket and handed them to Sandy. “Take the vehicle. I’ll find my own way back. I’d ask you to join the fun, but I think Cap would kill me.”

  About to correct the woman over Archer being a former commander not a captain, she realized it was a comic book reference again. “Okay,” she said. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much.”

  “Not making any promises.” Bella winked, before tossing money on the table. “Drink’s on me,” she said, rising to her feet with Sandy.

  Deciding not to even contemplate what was about to take place, she headed back to the nest, eager to check for chatter. She’d been a little busy the past two days to do so, and her gut told her to get on it. Starting with chatter right here in Atlantic City.

  ***

  Archer went with his gut and decided it was best if they kept Jimmy’s death a secret from the man’s supervisor, at least for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Just in case someone made a move to use the man’s computer or desk. TJ had an isolated feed on it.

  He put off calling the Federal Reserve for the time being and headed to Hell’s Kitchen to check out Rodrigo’s apartment.

  Murdered by two gunshots to the chest. That much was certain. But he wanted to know if the young vendor had anything to do with this Munich bunch, and he was determined to find out.

  Pretending to be reporters, Archer was surprised by the cooperation most of the people gave Matteo and him. They started with Rodrigo’s roommate, thrilled when the man invited them inside.

  While Matteo asked questions, Archer videotaped the interview, getting good footage of the apartment. “I still can’t believe it,” the young Asian said. “Rodro was just telling me he was invited to a good spot this week. He was excited because that doesn’t happen often.”

  “Where is his cart?” Matteo asked. “What will happen to it?”

  The roommate shrugged. “His cart is in a garage in Midtown. I don’t know what will happen to it. His parents already came and cleared out all his stuff. Maybe they got his cart, too. I hope they did and lease the license to earn some money to pay for the funeral.”

  Archer knew there was big money in leasing vendor licenses, he also knew it was possible the cart was already stolen. There was big money in that as
well.

  “Do you know which garage?” Matteo asked. “Maybe we can help?”

  “No. Sorry.” The guy shook his head. “I think it was near the museum. It wasn’t too far from here because he usually got home pretty quick once the flatbed dropped his cart at the garage.”

  After leaving the apartment, he sent a text to TJ to check one of the photos Sandy took of the cart to get the license number and see if he could track down which garage it might be stored in. Then they started to canvas the neighbors, surprised to find them talkative, instead of tight-lipped. It appeared Rodro was well-liked. Although, there’d been plenty of homegrown terrorists who’d shocked family and friends when they were discovered. And at least one person didn’t like the vendor since he had two bullets in him.

  “I think he was offed for his cart,” one of the neighbors said.

  Another disagreed. “Nah, it was just a mugging. I heard he was robbed, too. Only an empty wallet left on his chest.”

  Archer had read the police report, and the wallet rumor was correct. It was still undetermined where Rodrigo had been killed, though. No signs of struggle or large amounts of blood at the scene, so it’d been ruled a dumping ground. His apartment had been ruled out as the scene of the crime, too.

  He was liking this Midtown garage more and more for the murder scene. Hopefully, TJ would come up with an address soon. In the meantime, they continued to knock on doors.

  A third neighbor suggested aliens, then got into an argument with his brother, who’d insisted it was lizard people who came out of the sewer.

  And another neighbor suggested a drug deal gone bad. “Although, I ain’t never seen Rodro do drugs, ya know. I’m thinking someone wanted to pedal them through his cart and when he refused, they shot him.”

  Archer videotaped, while Matteo took notes and after two hours of canvasing the area, and a trip to the garage at the address TJ sent, they decided to head back to New Jersey.

  Rodrigo’s vendor cart was indeed missing. No blood spatters visible from the doorway. TJ was already viewing footage of the area. Guilty or innocent, Rodrigo would have justice either way.

  “So,” Matteo said when they were a few minutes away from headquarters and conversation about the case lulled. “You taking Sandy back to your place again tonight? Or will she be staying at the nest with TJ?”

  He snapped his gaze to the man smirking at him from the passenger seat and debated on whether or not he needed to wipe the smirk off his buddy’s face.

  “Ah...” Matteo scratched the bridge of his nose, smile still present. “It’s like that, is it?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  “Hey, no offense, sir.” His buddy held up his hands. “I think it’s great. I’m happy for you. Sandy is nice. I like her.”

  She was more than nice. She was smart. Beautiful. Tenacious—especially when she...

  Archer stopped mid-thought when he realized he’d been thinking out loud.

  Shit.

  Matteo chuckled. “Don’t sweat it, sir. I understand. No one knows messed-up headspace because of a woman better than I do. Trust me. Bella can annihilate my train of thought with just a glance. And if she smiles?” His buddy whistled and shook his head. “Goodbye, brain cells.” The smile remained on the seasoned SEAL’s face the whole time. “And you know what, sir? I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.”

  Archer nodded and blew out a breath as he turned down the street where headquarters was located. “I’d planned to wait until this mission was over before starting something. I wanted to talk to her son first,” he admitted on another exhale. He owed his fellow SEAL that much.

  “Get his blessing.” Matteo nodded. “I don’t think he’s going to have a problem with his mother being happy. And you definitely make her happy, sir. Anyone can see her face lights up when you walk in a room.”

  He’d noticed that, too. It made him feel ten foot tall and off-kilter. “I’m still trying to come to terms with this loss of control aspect, because I sure as shit don’t seem to have it when she’s around.” He pulled into the garage at the nest and parked. “Will it ever come back?”

  “God, I hope not.” Matteo grinned.

  Archer snickered. “It is pretty fuckin’ great.”

  “Hooyah,” Matteo spouted, and they were both smiling when they entered the building.

  TJ was in the kitchen area, standing by the center island, popping nuked pizza rolls into his mouth. As soon as he saw them, he straightened. “You two are in good moods. I hope it stays that way when you hear what happened.”

  Archer’s heart kicked the shit out of his ribs.

  “And before you say anything,” TJ held up his hands, “I want you to know I tried to stop them.”

  “Fuck,” Matteo muttered. “What did Bella do now?”

  A pained look crossed TJ’s face. “It...ah...actually wasn’t Bella. This time,” he said before he met Archer’s gaze. “It was Sandy.”

  Apparently done beating his ribs, Archer’s heart dropped to the floor then shot up to thump in his throat. “What about her?” Cracking his fisted knuckles, he strode right to the guy. “Where is she?”

  “On the boardwalk. I think.”

  “What the fuck for?” He glanced at the clock on the microwave, and pain instantly stabbed at his temples. It was almost twenty-one hundred.

  “She got a lead and needed to act on it.”

  That was great. Fucking great.

  He tried to suck air into his lungs but didn’t have much luck. “And you let her go alone?” What if that threat in New York did manage to follow them here?

  “Of course not.” TJ reeled back. “Bella’s with her.”

  Now his chest hurt. Squeezing pains ringed his damn chest.

  Was he having a heart attack?

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” He glanced at Matteo and lifted a shoulder. “No offense, man.”

  Matteo held up his hands. “None taken. I’m a bit freaked out myself.”

  Fuck. Now his chest really squeezed tight. Rubbing at the ache with one hand, he yanked his phone out of his pocket with the other.

  “What are you doing?” TJ frowned and lunged for the phone. “Nonononono. Don’t call her.”

  Archer maneuvered the phone high and away, a little surprised at how quick the skinny guy moved. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because you don’t want to give up her position.”

  The pain squeezing his head increased, momentarily messing with his vision.

  A stroke...he was having a stroke.

  Sandy was somewhere on the boardwalk. At night. Following a lead. With Bella...the agent who killed first and asked questions later.

  Archer tried to draw air into his lungs, but his chest was too damn tight.

  A stroke and a coronary. Could he have them both at the same time?

  He was about to fucking find out because the heart lodged in his throat was pounding like a son-of-a-bitch and cutting off the oxygen to his brain.

  “A’ight. Time out,” Matteo said, thrusting a glass of what smelled like scotch into Archer’s hand. “Sir, drink up.” Then thrust a finger at TJ. “Spill it. Where are the women exactly, and why?”

  “Make it the short version,” Archer growled, before tossing back the contents of his glass. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat and dislodged his thudding heart. For a brief moment, he contemplated locating the bottle.

  TJ popped a pizza roll into his mouth and chewed before talking. “Sandy was listening to the chatter here, in AC.”

  Matteo’s head jerked back. “Here?”

  “In Atlantic City?” He frowned.

  “Yeah.” TJ nodded. “That’s what here, in AC means. Anyhow, she heard talk about FRB. Bomb. And boss.”

  “Boss?” Matteo frowned. “What boss?”

  TJ shrugged. “That’s what she went to find out.”

  Archer expelled a breath and counted to three. “Wh
ere?”

  “I don’t know. Caesars or Bally’s maybe...” TJ chewed on another roll. “The prisoners had dealings with some of the whales at Bally’s, so my money is on there.”

  Prisoners?

  Archer liked the kid, but he was two seconds away from grabbing TJ by the throat. Instead, he gripped his empty glass with one hand and thrust the other into his pocket to keep from choking Jameson Knight’s computer guru. “What prisoners?”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention them?”

  Jameson could probably find another guru.

  TJ went to reach for another pizza roll but there weren’t any left because Matteo swiped the plate and tossed it in the trash in one smooth motion.

  “Prisoners?” Archer arched a brow.

  “Bella rounded up two smugglers—of people, people smugglers—from a local bar.”

  His heart knocked his ribs, as déjà vu flashed through his mind. “And she brought them here?”

  “Yeah. But don’t worry.” TJ waved a hand. “The dudes have nothing on their skin or under it. We checked good this time.” The guy grimaced. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  “So why did they have to go to a casino?” Matteo asked.

  “They were trying to decide which one had the better rooftop for listening.” TJ cocked his head. “Oh, yeah, they took one of my drones with them.”

  Jesus...

  Matteo splashed a SEAL-sized shot of scotch into Archer’s glass, one for himself in another glass, and together they downed their drinks.

  “Don’t worry about me,” TJ said. “I don’t need a drink.”

  Matteo thrust the bottle at the guy. “Help yourself. And if that was the simple version, I’d hate to hear the long one.”

  Archer’s chest was no longer as tight, and the pounding in his head had lessened to a dull roar. But his temperature was still one notch below incinerator, so he stripped off his button-down shirt and set it on a chair. Feeling instantly cooler in his black muscle shirt, he turned to Matteo. “Let’s roll.”

  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sandy to do her job or Bella to keep Sandy safe, because he trusted them both. Implicitly.