SEAL Warriors

by Katie Knight

  She returned a short time later, with a freshly diapered Camille. Maria passed the baby off to him and he followed her into the kitchen, watching while she got a bottle ready. “Monty likes girls.”

  “Huh?” Trevor said, confused.

  “He likes girls. Steve said the officer’s daughter was just the latest in a string of them the guy’s dated. He’s a player.”

  “And I should care about that why?” Trevor bounced a fussy Camille in his arms, doing his best to stay calm and hoping it would transfer to his daughter. It wasn’t working well on either side. “I don’t care if Monty’s frigging Casanova reincarnated. All I care about is making sure he pays for his crimes.”

  “I know that.” Maria shoved the bottle into the microwave and pressed the button, then rolled her eyes at him. “But maybe we should set a trap, to help the proper authorities get this guy.”

  Even as he said the words, he dreaded her response. “What kind of trap?”

  “I’ll be bait.” Her sweet smile, and the fact she looked like some kind of hot, sexy mother goddess in her pink PJs as she took Camille in her arms and settled in a kitchen chair to feed her, was completely at odds with the awful thing she was saying. Trevor just blinked at her, doing his best to take it all in and not lose his shit in the process. “This Monty guy wants a date?” she continued. “I’m it.”

  “Uh, no.” He took a step back, raking a hand through his hair. “Hell. No.”

  “Why not?” She arched a brow at him, then traced a finger down Camille’s cheek, cooing to her. “This is what I do, it’s my job. I’ll wear a disguise, so he won’t recognize me. I’ll wear a wire so we can get a good recording of his confession. It won’t be admissible in court, of course. Entrapment. But at least it should be enough for the military to take the spotlight off of you and turn it onto him, where it belongs. You’ll be off the hook. It’s what you wanted, yeah?”

  Yes. No. Hell, he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore.

  The only thing that was important right now was keeping Maria and Camille safe.

  “No way. I don’t care what you do for a living. You are not putting yourself in harm’s way like that.”

  Maria didn’t say anything for a while, just finished feeding Camille. Their daughter’s disposition improved tremendously with food in her little tummy. Afterward, burped and well-cuddled, Camille went back down for a nap again and Maria faced down Trevor with as much chutzpah as any SEAL he’d ever seen.

  “Let’s get a couple things straight, okay? First off, I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but this is not your decision to make. You’re not my boss. You’re not my husband. You’re not even my boyfriend at this point. We’re partners in this investigation, but that’s it. Sleuthing is my business, my livelihood. I have police training, I have experience as an investigator and as a cop—I know what I’m doing. If you’re worried I can’t handle it, you can come along. But you stay in the background and you don’t interfere. This Monty guy doesn’t know me, but he sure as hell knows you. One glimpse at you and he’ll run for the hills and you’ll go to prison for a murder you didn’t commit. Is that what you want?”

  Trevor’s jaw hurt he gritted his teeth so hard. “What I want is for you to be sensible about this. Running off half-cocked will only cause more trouble.”

  “I’m a professional private investigator. I’ve handled more sting operations than you could ever imagine and I’m still here to talk about them. This is going to happen.” As if to prove her point, she grabbed her cell phone and hit the speed dial button. Steve’s voice echoed through the kitchen a few minutes later.

  “I take it you got my email?” he said.

  “Yep.” Maria placed the device on the kitchen table. “Tell Trevor I’m good with sting operations.”

  Trevor stood there, arms crossed, hating everything about this situation.

  “She’s good, man. Has a real talent for the BS.” Steve chuckled. “This one time, she went undercover as a stripper and—”

  “I do not want to hear this.” Heat prickled up from beneath the collar of Trevor’s shirt and he resisted the urge to run his finger underneath it. “She wants to dress up and go to a bar to get a confession out of the guy in the video.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Steve said after a moment.

  “See?” Maria gave him a told-you-so look.

  “No.”

  “Which part of ‘not your choice’ did you not understand?” she turned away. “I don’t even know why we’re arguing about this.”

  “Me neither,” Trevor said. “You’re not going.”

  “Yes, I am.” She spoke to the phone again. “Steve, can you get a wire ready for me for tomorrow night?”

  “No problem.” At Trevor’s dark snarl, Steve added, “Look, dude. I get that you want to keep her safe, but maybe the best way to do that is support her.”

  “Maria, hon, I’ll call you in the morning and we can discuss surveillance and a place to meet to get you set up.”

  She thanked him, then ended the call. “This is happening, Trevor. Now, you can be a part of it, or you can stay home with Camille and save me from calling your mom again. Your choice.”

  He forced himself to take a deep breath. Given his frustration levels tonight, it was probably best to wait until tomorrow anyway. If he saw Monty right now, he’d likely throttle the guy with his bare hands and that wouldn’t solve anything. By the morning, maybe he could come up with an alternative plan and talk Maria out of this crazy scheme too. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Fine. I’m in. For now. But only if we can’t come up with something better before tomorrow night.”

  26

  The following night, Maria walked into The Breakers nightclub, dressed in a hot-pink bobbed wig, a short, black leather skirt, a black tank top with the words “sweet and spicy” emblazoned across the front, and a fake smile as wide as Montana. Trevor had pitched a fit again, as expected, but she’d held firm. This was her job. They’d made a deal here. She was the PI and he was the client. She didn’t put up with crap from the other people she investigated for and she wasn’t about to start with him.

  After a deep breath and a check over her shoulder to make sure Trevor was in position near the far wall of the club, acting as bodyguard backup in case she needed it, Maria headed into the throngs of people dancing and flirting and getting drunk on a Thursday night.

  Camille was home safe with Penelope, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that. Which was good, since she had enough on her plate to deal with right here. The air smelled of booze and sweat and desperation, and the synthesized electronic house music booming through the speakers overhead pounded in her chest. As she weaved her way through the crowds, the soles of her cute stiletto pumps stuck to the sticky floor slightly, making her tamp down a shiver of revulsion. She didn’t want to know what exactly had happened in here or what caused the floor to be sticky. Spilled drinks? Maybe. Spilled blood or other body fluids? Ew.

  Hard to believe she’d hung out a couple times at places like this in college, thinking maybe she could finally be one of the cool kids. Never happened. Good thing too, because looking around now, these people seemed far from cool. In fact, most of them looked like they were stoned or sad or a combination of both.

  Across the room, on a stool at the bar, sat her mark. She narrowed her gaze on the guy as he flirted with a woman beside him who looked about half his age. Maria doubted she was even legal. From the Instagram pictures and video clips she’d seen of the man, she’d expected him to be more physically impressive than he was. In real life, John Montgomery was stocky, shorter than she’d expected, and had this weird used-car salesman smarminess about him that had her hackles rising. Then again, he was an international arms dealer, so she shouldn’t have expected any less from him.

  She smoothed her hand down the front of her outfit and patted her bright pink wig, then started over toward him, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm. Maria turned fast to find a man, abou
t thirty, with dark hair and eyes and an untucked white dress shirt unbuttoned to his navel grinning at her through the blue-light gloom.

  “Hey, baby,” the guy said, his words slightly slurred from whatever substance he was on. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “No thanks,” Maria said, doing her best to pull away from him. “I’m meeting someone.”

  “C’mon, sweetheart,” the dude said, tightening his grip and moving closer. “Just one drink.”

  “I said no,” she growled at him. “No means no, asshole. Now take your hand off me before I remove it permanently.”

  The man’s eyes widened slightly, and his grip loosened a bit, though he didn’t release her completely. “Sorry.” He looked around them before leaning in and lowering his voice. “Look, if you’re headed for the guy at the bar, I’m warning you to stay away.” No slurring of his words now, which had Maria’s scowl darkening. His breath didn’t smell of alcohol either, so he wasn’t drunk. But if it was an act, why? He’d mentioned John Montgomery, or at least “the guy at the bar”, so was there someone else on the gunrunner’s trail besides her and Trevor?

  “Listen, that guy’s bad news,” her captor said. “He’s—”

  Before the man could finish, he was suddenly yanked away from Maria.

  “Get the hell away from her, scumbag!” Trevor snarled. “You’re not fit to lick her shoes, let alone touch her.”

  “Trevor, stop it!” she said, trying to pull him away. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand plenty.” Trevor hauled the other man up to him by the front of his now-wrinkled dress shirt until they were nose-to-nose. “Touch her again and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  While the confrontation before her drew the attention of the crowds around them, Maria glanced over to the bar, only to see John Montgomery slipping away out a side entrance.

  Dammit.

  “Trevor, let him go,” Maria said, tugging on his free arm. “Our mark’s getting away.”

  “Mark?” the guy who’d stopped her asked, his dark gaze narrowed. “Who the hell are you people?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you, asshole.” Trevor tightened his grip on the guy’s shirt, pulling him up on tiptoe. “You make a habit of accosting women in bars?”

  “No!” The guy squirmed, clawing at Trevor’s death grip on his shirt. “Let me go and we can talk.”

  “Seriously, Trevor. Let him go. He’s not who you think he is,” Maria said, her voice lower now to avoid the nosy eavesdroppers around them. “He was trying to warn me about Montgomery. Besides, our mark’s gone. The sting’s over.”

  This earned another growl from Trevor before he shoved the smaller man away, sending him stumbling back and crashing into a cluster of nearby patrons. The guy coughed and tugged at his shirt before gesturing for them to follow him to the alley behind the club.

  “Tell me who you are,” Maria demanded, once they were somewhat hidden in the shadows. The guy pulled out a badge and flashed it in her and Trevor’s faces. “Shit! You’re FBI? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Apparently, the same thing as you were,” the guy said. “Trying to catch John Montgomery. Agent Brett Thompson. And you are?”

  “Maria Blanchard, private investigator. And this is my client, Trevor Daniels.”

  Agent Thompson’s eyes widened slightly. “Aren’t you the SEAL the Navy’s investigating for murdering his captain?”

  “I didn’t do it,” Trevor said, his tone flat and his expression hard.

  “That’s why I’m here. We have reason to believe John Montgomery is the guilty party,” Maria stepped in between the two men, in case Trevor felt punchy again. He was in enough trouble as it was without adding assaulting a federal agent to the list. “I have video footage showing Montgomery shooting the captain and Trevor knows about the weapons smuggling operations around the military base in Kabul at the time of the killing. We came here tonight to see if we could talk to Monty and get him to confess something to me that we could use to build a credible case against him and clear my client’s name.”

  The agent cursed under his breath and shook his head. “You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with here, do you? If this guy murdered your captain, that’s only one of his crimes. I’ve been tracking his activities for the last three years and we were finally closing in on making an arrest and you damned near blew that tonight. This isn’t fucking amateur hour here.”

  “We’re not fucking amateurs,” Trevor hissed, towering over the agent once more and Maria had to admit he was smoking hot when he was all angry and in protection mode. “This woman owns her own detective agency. She’s the smartest, hardest-working, most dedicated person I’ve ever met. And I’m a trained Navy SEAL. If anyone knows about black ops, it’s me. So don’t think you can intimidate us into leaving this alone. I’m sorry your case got screwed up tonight, but we’re talking about my life on the line here. Got it?”

  The two men faced off across the span of a few feet, neither giving an inch.

  Finally, Maria broke the tension between them. “Look, maybe we can help each other here. You said you’ve been tracking Montgomery for years, but obviously you don’t have enough to make an arrest, or you would’ve done so by now, Agent Thompson.”

  “What’s your point?” the guy said, his voice edged with fury, his gaze never leaving Trevor.

  “My point is, maybe the evidence we have might help you piece together your case enough to get this guy.” Trevor gave her a side glare and she shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to tell him about it and see if it means anything to him.”

  After a few more tense moments, Trevor turned away, his expression distrustful. “Fine. Whatever. This night’s a washout anyway.”

  She wanted to say, “thanks to you” but bit the words back. Fighting with him wouldn’t solve anything at this point. With a sigh, she turned back to the agent. “My tech guy was able to retrieve some files from the flash drive Trevor recovered the night the captain was killed at the base near Kabul. Their mission was terminated shortly thereafter, and the Navy seems to be trying to bury the information rather than do a proper investigation on it.”

  “What were the files?” Agent Thompson asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his gaze darting between Maria in front of him and Trevor, who was stalking around behind them like a lion guarding his territory.

  “Maps. Lots of maps, of the whole area. A cartographer took a look at them and said they were pretty rare. They showed trails and place names and markers, information only available from the tribes themselves. Trevor played a key part in obtaining the intel and building the relationships with the tribal leaders in the area. I’ve been thinking that maybe the captain had gotten himself involved in some kind of deal with Montgomery to use this information for smuggling routes, that maybe that’s why he’d been killed.”

  Agent Thompson frowned down at the floor for a second, as if considering the new information. “It’s possible,” he said at last. “Those maps you mentioned would be really useful to a weapons smuggler. They’d be able to move their product without risking exposure along the normal trade route checkpoints.” The guy called to Trevor over Maria’s shoulder. “Do you remember your captain ordering you to get anything specific for him? Targeted locations? Special areas?”

  Trevor moved in behind Maria again, the heat of him penetrating her thin cotton top and making her skin tingle. “No. Not that I remember. But he was acting super squirrely toward the end, right before the murder. He kept pressuring me to get more details, more locations. And he wanted me to upload the files on a non-secure network, saying our regular channels weren’t fast enough for him.”

  “Huh. Okay.” The agent straightened and smoothed down his wrinkled shirt as best he could, then handed Maria a business card with the FBI insignia on it, along with his office number and email. “Can you send me a copy of the files? I’ll take a look at them, along with the rest of my team, and we’ll be in touch
.”

  Maria went to answer, but Trevor pulled her aside.

  “How do we know we can trust this guy?” he said, giving the agent across from them a dirty look.

  “What choice do we have?” Maria crossed her arms. “I’m guessing the Navy will want to make an arrest in their case by the end of the week. You and I have gone as far as we can on our own here. We need more help and the FBI can provide that. Besides, if they’ve been building a case against this guy for three years, I don’t want to step on that. I could lose my license if they take me to court for interfering with a federal case. This is the best thing for both of us, Trevor. Trust me, okay?”

  A small muscle ticked near his tense jaw and his blue eyes burned into hers. Her pulse pounded loud in her ears and adrenaline fizzed through her bloodstream. She knew how hard this was for him, trusting her, trusting anyone really. But if they were going to solve this case and keep him out of prison, time was running out.

  Finally, he gave a curt nod and stalked away again to patrol the perimeter of their little area, keeping any other nosy patrons away.

  “Okay. I’ll send you the files. But there’s a deadline on this. You’ve got twenty-four hours to review them and get back to me with your plans to proceed.” She looked back at Trevor, then returned her attention to the agent. “We don’t hear from you, we go to the military brass on base. And that won’t end well for you or your case. A pissed Navy SEAL is a dangerous Navy SEAL. Deal?”

  Agent Thompson hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Deal.”

  27

  “Jesus, I can’t believe the FBI’s involved too,” Trevor said once they were safely back at Maria’s house. He’d thanked his mom for taking care of Camille and walked her out to her car while Maria sent over the requested files to the agent. Now that he was back inside again and they were finally alone, it was all hitting him like a brick upside the head. “This thing is way bigger than I imagined.”