Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  “She can stay,” he replied in a gruff tone as he seated himself behind the desk. “Close the door behind you.”

  Wade did and lowered himself into the chair next to Erin’s. He was close enough that he could smell her clean, sweet scent, but more than anything he was glad his presence seemed to comfort her. “So? What’s up?”

  Bill opened a drawer and pulled out a file, placing it on the desk and pushing it toward Wade. “New intel just came in a while ago from Kabul.”

  Wishing he would just say whatever the hell it was he wanted to say, Wade reached forward and took the file. He opened it to find a report about the checkpoint incident. He looked up at Bill. They’d been over all this twice already. “And?”

  “And, take a look at the name on the bottom of the second to last page.”

  Wade flipped to the correct page and looked at the bottom. The name jumped out at him like a neon sign.

  Brayden Schafer.

  He snapped his gaze to Bill, aware of a sudden tension gripping his muscles. “What the hell is this? You think he had something to do with it?”

  Bill’s stare never wavered. “That’s what it looks like to us. All the signs point to him. He was in Kabul before and during the attack. He had contacts at Bagram who could easily have given him your travel itinerary. He had the means, the motive and opportunity. So yeah, at this point I’d say he had something to do with it.”

  Wade was already shaking his head. “No way. I know why you’d think that, but…no way.” Bad blood and worse history between them, yeah. Schafer trying to have him killed? And using Rahim’s network to do it? No fucking way.

  “I figured you’d feel that way.” Bill leaned back in his seat, dividing his gaze between him and Erin. Wade glanced over to find Erin watching him with a worried expression. “He can fill you in on the details later,” Bill said to her, “since he’s already told you so much about everything else.”

  Erin’s face flushed and she flicked an apologetic, almost guilty glance at him. There was nothing for her to feel bad about. Wade wasn’t angry with her for telling Bill what he’d said to her last night. He’d never tell her anything classified or something that would put her in further danger anyway, and Bill had to know that.

  “He’s being transported here for questioning,” Bill added. “Flight arrives tonight at twenty-one hundred.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Wade said.

  “No, you won’t. Until we’ve questioned him and found out who set you up, you’re staying at that safe house and you’ll only be involved in the investigation on a consultant basis.”

  Wade set his jaw. “You need me on this one. You know it, and I know it.”

  Bill inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Not yet. We’ll bring you in when necessary. It’s for your own protection, Wade.”

  Yeah? Well it fucking sucked. He’d rather take his chances with Rahim and his network than stay stuck in one spot, waiting there like a sitting duck out in the country while the most important manhunt since the search for bin Laden took place without him.

  * * *

  Erin wasn’t sure what the story between Wade and Bill was, but their relationship wasn’t what she’d expected. When Wade had told her that Bill was his handler, she’d assumed they’d be on much friendlier terms than they actually were. Not outright hostility, perhaps, but an undercurrent of friction was there. Maybe it had something to do with Wade being off the grid for so long and having all kinds of rough edges, she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that he’d been quietly seething all the way back during the drive from Langley. Now that it was just the two of them alone in the farmhouse again, he still hadn’t relaxed. He was prowling around the lower floor like a caged lion and she’d been very careful not to say anything as she did her best to keep out of his way.

  He stood at the window with his back to her, hands braced above him on the window casing, every muscle in his back stretched taut beneath the light gray T-shirt he wore. While she loved the view, she knew he was upset about the investigation and this latest development he’d seen in that file.

  She took a few steps into the room and cleared her throat. “I was going to make something for dinner. You up to eating?”

  He turned slightly to look back at her, and the anger in his eyes faded. “Not really hungry right now.”

  “You need to eat,” she answered, the nurse in her taking over. The man already had no body fat on him. This wasn’t the tribal region of Afghanistan. With a full refrigerator in the kitchen, he shouldn’t be starving himself and making his body start metabolizing his muscle tissue.

  He let out a deep sigh, visibly pushed his frustration aside, and nodded. “I’ll help you.”

  Not about to argue, she turned back to the kitchen. “What do you feel like?”

  “Whatever you want is fine.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. She could think of a great way for them both to burn off their excess frustration, but she doubted he was thinking along the same lines, or that he’d let his guard down that far. And it probably wouldn’t be smart for them to cross that line while they lived here together anyhow. Just made things messier when it was all over.

  From the fridge she pulled out a bunch of greens and veggies, some berries and goat cheese for a salad. “You want chicken or anything to go on the salad?”

  “Sure.” He stood there in the middle of the kitchen, looking awkward as hell, and Erin took pity on him.

  “Can you grab a cutting board for me from the cupboard next to the stove?”

  He found one and put it on the counter, then pulled a knife from the butcher block beside the stove and started to cut up a red pepper she’d just washed. She watched him work. His knife skills were good, but she knew he hadn’t gained them by slicing up salad ingredients. To stop herself from thinking about him using that knife on human flesh, she turned back to washing the baby spinach leaves she’d placed in a colander. “So, whose name was on the bottom of that piece of paper?”

  Wade paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed slicing the pepper into neat strips. “Brayden Schafer.” He practically growled the name.

  She turned off the tap and stole a sideways glance at him, noting the scowl on his face. “You know him?”

  He nodded. “We served together. In SF.”

  Whoa. Betrayed by a fellow Green Beret? Erin stopped and turned to face him, incredulous. “And they think he’s the one who set us—you—up?”

  His jaw tensed. “Evidence looks pretty convincing so far.”

  “But you think they’re wrong.”

  Wade lowered the knife to the cutting board, his fingers still wrapped tight around the handle. “It’s way over the line, even for him.”

  She waited for him to continue, but he stared down at the knife, seeming lost in his own thoughts. Treading carefully, she asked, “What happened?”

  He cut her a sideways glance, then back down as he resumed cutting, his strokes even and precise. “We had a kind of rivalry going in our SF days. Friendly one. But after, when we did contract work together, things changed. During one mission things turned to shit and he made a bad call. I stepped in to correct it, and after that…” He shrugged, the motion tight, stiff. “He blamed me for the smear on his reputation. And that guy holds a helluva grudge. But setting me up to die through Rahim’s network? I don’t think so. He’s a piece of work, yeah, but he’s a patriot and loyal to his brothers. He might hate my guts, but that still doesn’t mean he’d do something like this.”

  She digested all that in silence, afraid to speak in case it made him clam up. He’d just strung more words together in the past minute than he had the entire time she’d known him, with the exception of the conversation about Rahim last night. “Well, I guess they’ll find out the real story once they question him.”

  He nodded, and it seemed like his shoulders weren’t as rigid as they had been at the start of the conversation. “Whaddya want me to do with this pepper?” He gesture
d at the neatly sliced pile of red cubes with the knife.

  She grabbed a big bowl from the cupboard beside the sink and set it next to him. “Here, just toss them in there.” She pan fried some sliced-up chicken breasts while he finished prepping the veggies. When it was ready she tossed the veggies in some dressing, plated the salad with some chicken and sliced strawberries on top, then added some crumbled goat cheese and chopped pistachio nuts. “Look okay?” she asked him.

  “Looks great.” He took the plates. “Want to eat in the living room?”

  “Sure.” She followed him in and took a seat on the couch. He handed her a plate and stood there hesitating a moment, but rather than sit on the floor as he had last night, he took the opposite end of the couch, sitting cross-legged with the plate balanced on his calves. She watched him fork up a bite and chew it, her gaze drawn to his mouth as he made a sound of pleasure. “This is good.”

  “Thanks.” And way better for his digestive system than the pizza had been.

  They ate in companionable silence and he took the dishes into the kitchen, telling her he’d clean up. Not about to argue, she turned on the TV and was half-engrossed in a show when he came back out. He stood in the entryway, as though unsure whether he should come in or not. “Want to watch a movie together?” she asked.

  He put his hands in his pockets and gave a shrug. “Sure.” He sat back on the far end of the couch.

  She flipped through the menu and settled on an action flick. “This one okay?” she asked, glancing at him. He probably hadn’t watched a movie in years.

  “Sure.”

  She turned it on and tried to get into it, but with each passing minute she was more and more aware of the distance between them. He wasn’t stiff exactly, though she could tell he wasn’t completely comfortable, either. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were sitting on the couch alone together, or whether he was still thinking about Schafer’s possible involvement in all of this. “You want me to go?”

  He looked at her in surprise, eyebrows drawing together. “No, why?”

  “I feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”

  He huffed out a rueful laugh. “You’re not. It’s just…everything,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Weird sitting here watching a movie when I know he’s still out there, that’s all.”

  That wasn’t all, and she knew it. They both knew it. He was attracted to her too, she was pretty sure, and didn’t want to acknowledge that. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her though. “I bet. But I’m okay going upstairs to read or something if you’d rather be alone. Or we could—I dunno, play cards or something for a while.” She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Cards, Erin? Really?

  His mouth quirked. “No, this is fine. Thanks, though.”

  They resumed watching the movie. Partway through she lost interest and started to fade. It’d been a long couple of days and she was smoked. Only the corner of the couch wasn’t very comfortable to rest her head in. She shifted around to find a better spot and closed her eyes. Sometime later she felt her head droop and she stirred, still half asleep. A moment later a gentle hand curved around her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open to find Wade right beside her, drawing her up and toward him.

  She went willingly, a little shocked when he actually drew her head down to rest against his hard shoulder and draped an arm across her shoulders. She stayed very still for a few seconds, but when he didn’t move and didn’t seem tense, she sighed in contentment and shut her eyes. His clean, soapy scent wrapped around her and his body heat soothed her. She was affectionate by nature and loved to cuddle, and he made her feel so safe. But feeling all that hot, hard strength up against her… Arousal bloomed inside her, a slow, heavy throb warring with exhaustion, but exhaustion won out.

  She surfaced briefly sometime later when he shifted her again. Blinking in the darkness, she realized sleepily that the TV was off. He eased her onto her side to curl up lengthwise on the couch, and drew the throw blanket over her. Already sliding off to sleep as he stood up, she felt the gentle stroke of his hand over her hair before his hushed footsteps moved away.

  Danger Close: Chapter Nine

  Rahim pulled the hem of his T-shirt over the weapon tucked into his waistband and pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose as he exited the rental SUV. He had a backup strapped to his ankle, hidden by his jeans. The heat hit him the moment he stepped out onto the gravel parking lot. Central Mexico had a different sort of heat than he was used to, more humid, but still a shock after being in the air-conditioned vehicle. That kind of luxury had been a shock on its own, and not an unwelcome one.

  He ran a hand over his closely shaved beard and tugged the brim of his ball cap down lower on his forehead as he walked to the concrete building. He’d dyed his hair, eyebrows and facial hair dark, but it wouldn’t be enough to fool facial recognition software if any intelligence agency got a good shot of him. Three other vehicles were parked out front. He rapped on the steel door and pushed it open, one hand on the butt of his weapon at the small of his back.

  “In here,” a familiar voice called from the back room.

  Rahim stepped into the darkened interior of the warehouse and shut the door behind him, the thud echoing in the cavernous space. Male voices speaking Spanish floated out to him as he crossed the concrete floor, alert but relaxed enough. The doorway led to an auto shop they’d converted for their purposes. Two Mexican men looked up from the blueprints they were going over when he entered. He nodded at them and shifted his attention to the tall man emerging from behind a pallet of crates.

  “Paul, how are you?” Rahim asked him in English.

  The twenty-six year old American shrugged his bony shoulders and ran a hand through the jaw-length brown hair he’d grown out in a half-assed attempt to disguise his identity. “Fine. How was your flight?”

  “Smooth as silk.” The private luxury jet had landed at an air strip an hour outside of Mexico City. No one had even checked his passport. He was paying for everything in cash, and so far not even the Mexican authorities knew he was in the country. “What’ve you got for me?”

  Paul motioned into the small office behind him. “There are two designs I wanted to show you.”

  Rahim placed his hands on the small desk and bent over the schematics. Both compact devices, both good designs as far as he could tell. He looked up at Paul. “Which one do you think’s our best shot?” It still rankled that he’d been unable to secure the Strontium-90 he’d originally planned to use, but a less potent material would have to suffice now that the timeline for the attack had been moved up by several weeks.

  “This one,” the younger man said, tapping the second design. “The configuration’s better, simpler and will decrease the chance of glitches.”

  “Let’s go with it then.” He straightened, nodded toward the two other men beyond the office door. “They speak English?”

  “Not really, no. I thought you’d prefer it that way.”

  “I do. Good thinking.”

  Paul smiled, seeming pleased with the praise. “I’ve got pretty much everything I need, except for the…material.”

  “I’ve taken care of it. It’s in transit.” He asked a few more questions about the design for the device and the crew in place, and right on cue, his burner phone rang. Checking the number first, he answered. “You got it?”

  “Sí, just left Mexico City,” the man answered in a thick Spanish accent. “Where do you want us to bring it?”

  “I’ll let you know. Transfer the load and disguise it, then find a place to wait overnight. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.” He ended the call and smiled at Paul. “Got it. I can have it here by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Okay.” Paul ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture. “What kind of timeline are we looking at? It’ll take me a day or two to assemble everything and—”

  “I want it on the ship two days from now.”

  Paul gaped at him. “But tha
t’s…”

  Rahim raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  The other man pushed out a breath. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will.” He smiled a little, clapped Paul on the back, and Rahim was pleased to see the other man wasn’t relieved by the gesture. The engineer knew how closely Rahim would be watching this whole process. He also knew how easily Rahim could do away with Paul so that no one would ever find his body should he fail to complete the bomb or do anything to jeopardize the operation. He was being paid well for this, maybe too well, but then, nuclear physicists willing to work on this kind of project weren’t easy to come by.

  “Better get started,” Paul muttered and brushed past Rahim to talk to the other men waiting outside the office.

  Rahim kept an eye on them as they began to assemble the parts, and did a thorough inspection of the warehouse. He looked for cameras and checked for wires, even though the likelihood of anyone knowing what they were up to was minimal. Another call came in, this one from Safir, who was back in Karachi.

  “Is everything in place?” Safir asked him in Pashto.

  “So far. We’re still on schedule.”

  Safir let out a relieved sigh. “I also have some good news.”

  Rahim’s attention sharpened. “What?”

  “I got a call from someone in our network. Apparently they found some interesting information that was leaked into the chatter stream, and when he checked it seems it’s from that American informant who contacted us before.”

  Rahim kept his voice low, watching the men as they worked. “Go on.”

  “The informant gave a possible location for Sandberg. And the woman.”

  Something stilled inside him and his heart picked up speed. “Where?”

  “In a small town in rural Virginia. They’re staying together in a house.”

  Rahim frowned. Had Sandberg really been married all this time? Or was Erin Kelly merely a fellow agent? “How reliable is this source?”

  “Ours? He’s reliable. And the American contact was accurate the last time. It’s worth checking out.”