by Vonnie Davis
Damn, Reece would never find out about ZQ and the CIA. “I have my first appointment on Monday. Gina set things up so I’ll have counseling with him on Mondays and Thursdays. Sure as hell hope he’s as good as everyone says.”
“He is. How do you like the new arm?”
What the hell was this? The ex-SEAL inquisition? Reece set his jaw, glanced away for a few beats, and dealt with the disappointment. “The arm is great. The question is, how did you manage to get one for me when the technology is so new? What makes me special enough to deserve one?”
The Old Man had the nerve to laugh. “I’ve been waiting on those questions. I’ll overlook your tardiness in asking me because your mind has been on taking care of other parts of your anatomy.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you. I’m not talking about my sex life. That’s damn private.”
ZQ nodded. “I agree. So here we go.” He snatched his soda and drained it, crunching it in his hand when he was finished. “I was approached by admirals and the CIA to form a top-notch black ops team. There are other teams. We know that, but not with the talent I’m bringing on board.” He stared at Reece as if waiting for a reaction.
“Sir, in your years of leading one of the best SEAL teams, I’m sure you’ve run across many high-caliber men. For what my bullshit opinion’s worth, the CIA couldn’t have chosen a better leader for this new team.”
“I appreciate that. Now let’s quit dancing around each other and cut to the damn chase. Would you be interested in joining my team?”
Fuckin’ A! Hot damn! “Even with my injuries and PTSD, sir?” His heart rate had hopped aboard a speeding rubber boat, skimming waves, airborne at times with happiness. He’d be useful again, serving his country, and protecting her citizens.
“You think I haven’t been watching you, brother? I’ve noted the change in your sour-assed attitude, watched how hard you’re working now to get back to the way you were before the explosion. No one’s better at analyzing intel and planting surveillance equipment than you. You used to be a helluva shot with either hand. I want you to practice with that”—ZQ tipped his chin toward Reece’s prosthesis—“hand until you can shoot equally as well with it. Understood?”
“Understood.” He wanted to remain cool, but the adrenaline rush had him by the throat.
“Obviously, this is a clandestine team, based here on Eagle Ridge Ranch. Thus, the name Black Eagle Ops. Our charter is to deal with homeland terrorism and crimes on American soil perpetrated by other national groups.”
“So we’ll do very little international travel?” That would be a plus, considering the life he wanted with his blondes.
“Right, Steelhead. Although we have to be prepared to go wherever the hell we’re sent. We can’t completely rule out travel to other countries.”
“Who all is on your team? I’m guessing Dust, one of the best snipers in Special Forces.” ZQ nodded. “You’d need a demolitions expert, plus a service dog team to sniff out drugs and bombs. So JJ and Nance. I’m surprised he’s not in this meeting since he lives here.”
“He and Ashley went into town together. They’re both getting work done on their hair. She doesn’t like his dreadlocks and facial hair and he doesn’t like her dyed-black hair. God only knows how they’ll look when they get back.”
“At least the tension is gone between them.” They didn’t show affection toward each other, but did smile and speak with a kinder, civil tone.
ZQ shifted in his seat and rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank God. Mom’s happier about it, too.”
Hell, enough about them. Reece wanted to know more about who and what he’d be working with. Hot damn, he was back in the game. “Okay, so who else is on the team?”
“Scratch. He and his wife will be here later tomorrow from Kansas. They’re flying in because Erin has a couple teaching interviews lined up. They’ll do some house hunting while they’re here. I’ve also got Ghost and Titan. They have six months to get their asses moved to Warrior Falls. Now that I have you, I’ll be hunting for one more. Including me, that’ll give us eight, plus Clint when the situation calls for him.”
“Clint Silver? The old man?” Wasn’t this a surprise?
ZQ chuckled. “Never discount age. I’m telling you, that Vietnam vet still has some deadly moves. Plus he can circulate through an area damn near undetectable. I mean, who worries about a bald, barrel-chested old man?” ZQ stood, strode to his desk, and retrieved a thick file. “Plus, he sometimes gets information sooner through the U.S. Marshal service than I do from the CIA. He and I work damn close. I’ve told all my men, they can trust him with their lives.”
Reece nodded, mulling that bit of info around in his head. If the Marshal was good enough for ZQ to trust, then hell, that was all that needed to be said.
“I want to go over our main target with you.” He plopped next to Reece and tapped the file with a finger. “The Morozov Circle, a branch of the Russian Mafia. Although they do some shakedowns of small businesses for protection monies and drug trade, their main agenda has been bringing children in from various parts of Russia to sell for sex purposes.”
Reece stared at ZQ. “Human sex-trafficking? Like that ring we stopped in Hong Kong? Hell, some of those kids were barely Piper’s age.” Disgusted rage set a fire of indigestion in his gut.
“There are some sick motherfuckers out there, Steelhead. Their deviant sexual appetites feed on innocent kids. You know that. Now this Mafia branch has added another product to their line.”
“What?”
“American children, blond girls in particular, for sex trade elsewhere.”
Reece popped out of his seat like a rocket. “Son of a bitch! Those motherfucking devils! I have a blond daughter, man!” And he did. In his heart, he did. Fear took a stranglehold. “Where are they working?”
“Latest intel shows two groups. One operating in Florida. The other here in Texas. You need a strong drink? You’re looking pale, Steelhead.”
He couldn’t talk, so he just nodded. Control. He had to get control of his fears. Texas was a big state. Warrior Falls, a small town. No doubt the Morozov Circle would target big cities where the pickings would be better. There would be a larger population of children in those areas. He ran shaking fingers through his hair. If they came for his little girl, he’d skin the deranged motherfuckers so slowly they’d beg for a bullet.
ZQ handed him a glass of amber liquid. Reece took a gulp, relieved it was whiskey, and allowed the burn to erase some of the fear. “How many children have they gotten in Texas?”
“Nine. Six in Florida.”
“Aw hell.” He finished the rest of the whiskey.
“They’re targeting public places…theaters, playgrounds, adventure parks. Intel says abductors are working in pairs, driving a light blue commercial van, and vanishing quickly. One girl per town and then they move to another city.” ZQ spread a map across the large square coffee table. Places were circled and numbered with lines drawn to the next town.
Reece sat and took in the back-and-forth pattern the kidnappers were taking over both states. “Hell, Commander, how do we figure out their next move? There doesn’t seem to be a pattern. No…no system. Just a zigzagged trail of pain for little girls and their parents.”
Reece leaned closer and studied, measuring the distances according to the mileage key at the corner of the map. “Looks like they’re keeping to a two-hundred- to two-hundred-twenty-mile expanse between the cities, slowly heading southward.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and hated himself for it. The bastards had moved south of Warrior Falls, away from Piper. A stab of guilt hit. But what about the other parents who loved their daughters as much as he? Damn, the team had to help them. They had to find these Russian mobsters.
ZQ strode to his desk. “Let me get my old drawing compass. I can’t believe that didn’t jump out at me. Guess I’ve been so busy memorizing faces and other intel.” He rummaged through a drawer and came back with one, handing it to Reece who adjusted it according
to the mileage key. Once he’d made circles with the attached pencil, it was clear—they were maintaining close to the same range between towns.
“Steelhead, that’s the first indication of a pattern we’ve gotten. Let me call Clint.” ZQ patted Reece’s back. “Good job, man. Good job. You were always gifted in seeing what others passed over. Dust has his gut instinct. You’ve got the eye for details. Both are damned vital to our team.”
After his call, ZQ studied the map some more. “Clint suspects both teams are headed to docks in New Orleans. They used to work out of Baltimore. This time, they seem to be focusing on the south. Clint’s going to get some marshals on it. See if they can track down a Russian freighter.” His finger tapped the map. “We need to get these motherfuckers.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
They went over every piece and picture of evidence ZQ had on the Morozov Circle. Then the Old Man took him out to the underground bunker the CIA had built for the team. Together they went over the equipment and weapons stored in it. Little expense had been spared by the government or whoever was backing them.
ZQ showed him the interior of a black van. Reese had seen the van in the garage and wondered why no one ever drove it. The shiny new van was equipped with all the latest computerized surveillance equipment.
They also crawled over the Blackhawk, so well hidden beneath camouflage it couldn’t be seen from the air. Reece couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it sitting out in the open in a hollow beyond a hill beside the house.
“Your first job will be to practice shooting with your new hand. Brush up on the old one, too. Choose a weapon from the bunker, sign it out on the clipboard, so I know who has it, and use the shooting range beyond the chopper.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be paid well. You won’t need another job to support your family. Just tell folks you work for me training horses, which you’ll do during our downtimes. Good enough?”
The muscles in Reece’s cheeks stretched with a broad smile. “Oh hell, yeah.”
Chapter 19
On the way back to his quarters, Reece speed-dialed Dust. “Hey, brother, got some spare time next week to help an eagle operative on the target range? The Old Man wants me back to shooting with either hand.”
“So he finally talked to your sorry ass.” Dust’s voice dripped with pleasure.
Reece laughed. “That he did. Looks like I’ll be staying on in the area.” As if he hadn’t planned on it anyhow, feeling as he did about Gina and Piper.
“Steelhead, I couldn’t be happier. Did he talk to you about the Russians?”
“Yeah, he went over everything. He told me both you and JJ were up to speed on this.” He unlocked his quarters and found his mail slipped under the door.
“How’s your new prosthesis working out? The Old Man got a new calf and foot for me with the latest technology in it, which meant I had to get a computer chip embedded. Damned if I know how he was able to make that score, but I like not having to recharge batteries so often. Holy shit! Sorry. Kelcee just showed me the new top she’s wearing to the dance tonight. Are you two going? You and Gina?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Maybe we can grab the mikes, sing a duet, and impress our women.” Kelcee giggled in the background. “Kitten…tell me you’re going to wear a bra under that. No! Not with those tight-as-hell jeans. Don’t make me have to beat your teacup ass…” A feminine squeal of delight sounded and the call ended.
Reece shook his head. Newlyweds. If he played his cards right, he’d be one someday. He bent to snatch his mail off the carpet. The envelopes stuck to his fingers. He cussed and laughed at the same time. Sucker-fingers Piper must have played mailperson.
He flopped on the bed and tore open the yellow square envelope addressed in large print to “Uncle Reece.” Little girls were something precious. This was from Brooke, even though her mother had finished addressing the envelope. Inside the Easter card to the world’s best uncle were three pictures—one of her and the Border collie pup he’d gotten her before he left for Texas, one of Pop and her laughing as they played a Wii game, and another of Brooke straddling a branch of a tree, waving at the camera. The sullen child he’d left had changed, no doubt from Pop’s presence and maybe the pup’s, too.
The second envelope contained a letter from Pop and, dammit, a check. Hell, he didn’t need money from his old man. He had some savings. He shook open the letter as it stuck to his sticky fingers.
Dear Son,
Don’t bitch about the check. Knowing you, you already have. Jada Beth wouldn’t let me pay off her mortgage. Stubborn woman. I was able to talk her into letting me pay six months ahead on her mortgage in case her law practice hits a rough spot down the road. A little safety cushion. Plus, she did accept a check for my granddaughter’s college fund. Made me feel good and proud I was giving Brooke a gift that will last forever, as a good education does. Now, if you’ll accept this bit of money from your mama and me, I’d feel a hell of a lot better. We always treated you boys the same, your mama and I. Take this so I can be at peace about helping Jada Beth, our other son’s wife.
Love,
Pops
Reece glanced at the check that had fluttered out of the folded sheet of paper. “Oh, Pop, you and Mom were always the best. You’re about to pay for an engagement ring.” He should probably wait, but what better way to end a great day. Little Piper had been thrilled with her magic bean crop. His woman had told him she loved him. He was now part of a secret black ops team.
He rose from the bed to go wash the sucker stickiness from his hands. The more he thought about proposing, the more positive he was tonight was the perfect time. He had shopping to do and dancing to practice.
—
Gina soaked in a hot bubble bath, allowing the heat to relax her muscles. Her girly bits were tender and welcomed the pampering. Two kitty paws peeked under the closed bathroom door. Whirlwind did not like to be excluded from anything. Even after the water fiasco the other week, he still considered watching water exciting. Gina held her wet puff over his paws, allowing bubbles to drip on them. He made a funny meow and jerked his feet back.
Leaning her head against her inflatable bath pillow, Gina exhaled the pressures of the day. Tonight she was going dancing with the man she loved. She hoped the band played a lot of slow songs so they could melt into each other’s arms. Was Reece the kind of man who hummed or sang along with the music when he danced? He sang around the house sometimes. She squeezed a liberal amount of peach-scented body soap on her puff and washed her arms. It was a comforting sound hearing his sexy voice in song. Yep, I’ve got it bad and I don’t care ʼcause he loves me, too.
Dried, she rubbed peach lotion over her body and slipped into the white lacy thong and sheer underwire bra she’d bought for tonight. She pulled on a white eyelet dress she’d found last summer and closed the side zipper. It had cap sleeves, a scooped bodice, and a lace-edged hemline that barely skimmed her knees. She did a twirl in front of her full-length mirror, loving the feminine feel of its full skirt.
A thin red patent belt added color. Stepping into a pair of cowgirl boots with red leather hearts and white leather diamond insets, she snatched her denim vest from the bed and slipped it on. She rummaged through her jewelry box. So did Whirlwind, his eyes alight at all the goodies. He was so excited he purred and jumped into her little jewelry box.
“No. No, baby, this will never do.” She picked him out of the strands of beads and earrings and set him on the bed. He leapt back on her dresser, but not before she found the red heart pin Piper had given her for Mother’s Day and pinned it to the lapel of the vest. She quickly yanked out a pair of red hoop earrings and some red and white bangle bracelets before slamming the lid closed. He tried to pry it open while she put on the earrings and bangles.
She brushed her hair again and swiped on more mascara and lip gloss. One Texan girl ready for a honky-tonk dance.
A knock sounded at her door and when sh
e opened it, her breath caught in her throat. A tall man dressed in black boots with silver-tipped toes, tight black jeans, a black t-shirt stretched over powerful muscles proclaiming “I’m American Made” over a rippled flag, and a black Stetson pulled low over his face stood before her. A zippered overnight bag was gripped in his clasp. His head slowly rose and her heart rolled over in a submissive “take me” whimper.
She’d recognized the sunshine-and-leather smell of him, but something was different about his expression. Reece was more confident, more masculine if that was even possible.
“Hey, baby.” His deep voice melted over her like dark chocolate and red wine. “Don’t you look good enough to love forever?” His slow sexy-as-hell grin spread, causing her body to quiver with need. He stepped across the threshold, wrapped a long arm around her waist, and made a few dance steps before he swung her against the wall. The bag he carried thudded on the floor. Cupping her cheeks, his face lowered until his lips teased hers when he spoke. “I’ve got romance and surprises planned for you tonight, Blondie. After all, when a man escorts the most beautiful woman in town to the dance, he better have his A game on.” His lips covered hers and she moaned all the way down to her red toenails.
She wasn’t sure he was ever going to let her come up for air. Frankly she didn’t care. Reece Browning knew how to kiss the sugar out of a tall glass of sweet tea. When he finally pulled back, Whirlwind was all over Reece’s canvas overnight bag, sniffing and scratching.
Reece scooped him off and held him nose to nose. “What you smell is for tomorrow, fuzzball. Now scoot.” He picked up his bag. “Can I stick this in your bedroom? Sneaky cat already smells his Easter gift.”
“You bought Whirlwind something for Easter?”
He’d made a couple of steps by then and stopped, glancing back over his massive shoulder. “Sure. Didn’t you?”
Guilt grabbed her. “Well…no. I have a basket fixed for Piper, but nothing for…” She looked at the kitty standing on its hind legs, sniffing the bag. “Let me guess. It has catnip in it.”