Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

Lissa let out what felt like her first breath since they’d stepped into the funeral home. “Now what?” she asked no one in particular.

  Max answered her grimly. “Now we use you as bait to draw out Petrov and his flunkies, and we take them down.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Max’s plan sounded so easy to Lissa. But when the SEAL team went back to their hideout and started preparing to lure in the hit squad and take it out, the reality was a hundred times scarier.

  The big problem was that, with a relatively small team, they would not be able to guard every approach to the island. The good news was the SEALs used the island for training and had all crawled over every inch of it.

  There was a lengthy conference call with a SEAL operations center of some kind that included the famous Jennie Finch and the team’s boss, a man named Commander Perriman. He seemed to think that this whole plan would make a dandy training exercise. If this was just training for these people, she’d hate to see what they considered a real job.

  Bastien set the bait by calling back into his precinct and asking for a couple of days off to deal with the crazy girlfriend of an acquaintance who’d gotten herself in some trouble. Lissa was dismayed that Bastien assumed word would spread quickly to mob informants on the force.

  After the call, Bastien left his cell phone turned on. Apparently, the mobsters trying to kill her would have no trouble locating his mobile signal and coming straight to it. Which made her feel even more naked and vulnerable than ever.

  Max was silent through most of the planning. She hoped he was just letting the SEALs do their thing. But her gut told her he was conflicted about the whole plan. Was that what he was worried about? Blowing his two-year investigation when he was getting so close to identifying his target?

  Whenever she probed his mind for an answer, she hit a wall of icy control. He was intentionally trying to block her out of his mind. She sensed that she could blast through the wall if she wanted to. But Max would never forgive her if she did. He was already deeply uncomfortable with her ability to suss out his secrets.

  The bad guys would arrive as early as that night, or it might be days before they came for her. The SEALs seemed unconcerned either way, but she wasn’t sure her nerves could stand a lengthy wait for all hell to break loose.

  After the evening meal, everyone drifted off to their rooms, abandoning her and Max at the kitchen table. The good humor evaporated, leaving behind simmering tension.

  “Talk to me, Max. What are you hiding from me?”

  He looked up at her grimly. “You know I’m hiding something?”

  “Hey. It’s an improvement. You can shield a little bit from me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To keep me out of your life and out of your secrets?”

  “I never wanted you out of my life.”

  “How did you plan to make me part of your life and not share your secrets with me?”

  He frowned at her as if he didn’t understand.

  “Think about it, Max. Serious relationships are based on trust. On knowing each other. People may keep small secrets from one another, but the big stuff—they share that with their loved ones.”

  He huffed in what might be frustration, or maybe disagreement.

  She continued battering at his misguided beliefs. “You know my deepest, darkest secret, and I’m still here. I didn’t run away and ditch you because you know I hear dead people. And I didn’t run away when I found out your family was spies. It’s obvious that you’re some sort of spy, too, but I’m still here.”

  That made him shove back hard from the table and stare at her intensely.

  “Oh, come on. That didn’t even take woo-woo powers to figure out. You dropped my mugger like he was a rank amateur. And you and I both know he wasn’t. You recognized that bug I found in the shop. Your surveillance setup. The way you knew how to ditch our tails at the auction house. Who but a soldier, cop or spy would know how to do all that stuff? And you’re not a soldier or a cop.”

  He shoved an angry hand through his hair, denial written all over his face.

  “For goodness’ sake, Max, you’re hunting a spy. Who but another spy would do that?”

  He swore under his breath and charged out the back door, disappearing into the gathering twilight. She let him go. It hurt like hell to watch him walk out on her like that. But she couldn’t force him to let her into his life. He would either accept her into his secret world or he would walk away and never look back. Her heart warned her that the latter was the likely outcome.

  Had she lost him before she’d ever really had him? If only he would trust her even a little. Maybe if he got his obsession with finding the leader of the Bratya—

  She had an idea. She picked up the handset phone that Ashe had used earlier to call the SEAL operations center, hit the redial button and crossed her fingers that this would work.

  “Team Ops. Go ahead.” It was Jennie Finch. Just the person she wanted to talk to.

  “Hi, Jennie. This is Lissa Clearmont in Louisiana.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I need your help. That list of names that Max sent you. The five Russian ones? Have you found anything on them?”

  “Not yet. Since we talked, I’ve been doing the paperwork to request satellite overview of your location. I’ll look into Petrov later this evening, assuming no new crises develop.”

  “Can you get me a picture of him when he was in his early to mid-twenties?”

  “I expect I could with a bit of digging. Why?”

  “I saw a...picture...of the man Max is hunting when he was young. If I could see a photo of Petrov at that age, I’ll be able to tell Max if he’s chasing down the right target.”

  “Will do. I’m sure there’s a driver’s license picture or yearbook photo of the guy lying around somewhere.”

  “He’s got a brother, Yuri Petrov. Make sure you get a picture of the correct Petrov. I gather Markus is extremely secretive and may be trying to hide behind his brother’s identity.”

  Jennie chuckled. “Good to know. The more secretive they are, the more I enjoy exposing them.”

  “I think I like you, Jennie Finch.”

  “Keep your head down and don’t worry. The Misfits are as good as they get.”

  “The Misfits?”

  “FITS. Females in the SEALs. It’s a classified program to train women SEALs. That’s the group you’re hanging out with. They call themselves the Misfits as a play on that acronym. All three women operators with you are pretty much done with their training and are full-fledged SEALs. Commander Perriman’s getting ready to send the whole team, men and women, out in the field any day. So you’re in good hands.” The analyst added, “I’ll be in touch as soon as I find your picture.”

  Lissa disconnected the call. And now the waiting began.

  * * *

  “Incoming,” a voice said urgently over the microphone in Max’s ear. He lurched to full consciousness in the porch swing he’d been dozing in.

  Well, that hadn’t taken long. The mob’s hit squad was already here? A scant twelve hours after Bastien had dropped the bait. The NOPD must be more deeply infiltrated than anyone had guessed. Either that, or the mob had intentionally placed one of their own close to Bastien as soon as Max had reached out to the former SEAL.

  Chagrin rolled through Max, along with a stern reminder to himself not to underestimate the Bratya. Much of its senior leadership was former KGB and FSB agents, and they were as highly trained as any espionage operators on earth.

  Jennie spoke again. “I only have spotty coverage because cloud cover’s rolling in fast. But two high-speed boats are approximately three miles from your position and headed your way.”

  Ashe replied, “ETA?”

  “They were moving at a high rate of speed but appear to have cut eng
ines. They appear to be doing recon of the area. Sorry I can’t see more.”

  “No sweat. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  The radios went silent. Nothing had substantially changed. They still didn’t know when or from what direction the attack would come. All that had changed was the tension level in and around the house. Everyone was on high alert now.

  Lissa would probably be freaking out. He checked an urge to go to her and comfort her. But then her earlier words floated through his head. Was he wrong to hold himself apart from her? Were his feelings and secrets really so special that she didn’t deserve to know them?

  Problem was, everything she said went directly against a lifetime’s worth of training, first from his father and then from the CIA.

  He headed inside in search of her. After all, it made operational sense to keep the bait from panicking. He was surprised to find her awake in the front parlor, sitting in the dark. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes. I’ve been listening to the house. It has some good stories to tell.”

  “I think Ford owns this place. He could probably tell you the history of it.”

  “Ford, who’s in love with Trina?”

  “The same.”

  “They’re a cute couple.”

  He snorted. “I doubt they’d appreciate being called cute.”

  “Still.”

  Silence fell between them.

  “What’s the news?” she asked.

  “Two boats full of bad guys are in the area but not moving in. They’re probably trying to do some recon on the island before they blast ashore. They know you, me and Bastien are here, but they’ll want to know we’re here alone.”

  “Will they back off when they see a SEAL team?” she asked hopefully.

  “Nobody on earth hides better than the SEALs. And remember, we want the Bratya’s boys to come ashore.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she muttered.

  “The mob won’t leave us alone until they’re more afraid of what’ll happen to them if they don’t stop.”

  “Personally, I like the idea of identifying the leader and arresting him.”

  He paced a lap around the spacious room before replying, “An arrest won’t stop the mob. If you cut off the head, another man steps into place. We have to scare the hell out of the entire organization. Make them unwilling to tangle with you and me ever again.”

  “Your cover will be blown.”

  He paused in front of the sofa she huddled on. “Sweetheart, it’s already blown. I was done as soon as Bastien let the mob know I ran with you rather than turn you over to them. I’ll never find out who killed my mother.”

  “What if the leader of the gang is the one who killed her? If we get him, we get justice for your mom.”

  That sent him pacing again. It was several minutes before he stopped circling the room to stare at her hard, wishing there were more than faint starlight to see her by. Her words had a ring of truth to them. “Dammit, now you’ve got me listening to gut feelings,” he complained.

  “You told me people in your line of work learn to trust their instincts. What’s wrong with that?”

  “We listen to them to know when someone is following us or lurking around a corner. That’s a far cry from listening to intuitions that someone did something evil twenty years ago.”

  “How is it different?” she asked reasonably. “One is a small act of intuition, and one is a larger act of intuition. They’re the same act, though.”

  He had no answer for that. His father had sworn by listening to his gut. Hell, the SEALs ringing the house swore by it. Were they all doing what Lissa did to a smaller degree?

  “How soon will the bad guys come for me?” she asked.

  He was relieved to hear her sound relatively calm when asking that question. “No telling. We’re losing satellite coverage as the front moves in. It’s going to boil down to old-fashioned eyeballing the approaches to know when they make their move.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “That’s a sensible way to be feeling. Don’t fight it. Just let it pass through you, and then let go of it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbled.

  He sat down beside her, too tense to do more than perch on the edge of the sofa. “Take comfort in knowing I’m not scared and neither are any of our friends outside. They live for this kind of stuff.”

  “You’re all crazy. I’m the only sane one here.”

  That made him laugh. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  She asked, “What happens when this is all over? Assuming this goes well.”

  For just an instant, he let down his wall of control. “Once you’re safe—” He broke off the thought, unwilling to voice it. He could hardly bear to think of it. Once she was safe, he had to get her as far away from the mob as he could, and then he had to stay away from her forever. For her safety.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” she declared forcefully. “You’re not going anywhere without me!”

  Damn her uncanny ability to read his thoughts! “Lissa. It’s for the best. Until the entire Bratya organization is dismantled, you won’t be safe.”

  “You’ll get the bastard eventually,” she declared. “But with me at your side and not halfway across the country.”

  “I have to know you’re safe before I can continue my operation.”

  “I’m safer with you.”

  He wasn’t going to have this argument again. “I’m going to go check on the others. They’ll want to move you to the hiding place as soon as they spot our visitors arriving.”

  * * *

  Lissa watched Max’s shadow sadly as he retreated from the room. So much pain in him. If only he would let her help him bear the burden. He didn’t need to be so alone. She knew what it was like to live in utter isolation from her fellow man, and it hurt at a soul-deep level.

  Perhaps a half hour passed. The air outside was heavy with unshed rain, and flashes of lightning were indistinct in the sky, not quite seen or heard. The wait was oppressive, and she grew too restless to sit still anymore. She paced the long central hallway of the house until it became too confining, and then she went out onto the porch to do laps around the sprawling house.

  Max arrived on the front steps as she completed her second circuit. “Trina said you looked antsy and sent me in to check on you.”

  “Any idea when the bad guys are going to get here?”

  “You tell me.” He made the comment flippantly, but a note of serious inquiry underscored it.

  She frowned. “Do you happen to have anything that belonged to one of the men coming for me?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Can you describe them to me in detail?”

  “Sure.”

  She sat down on the porch swing and he sat on the top porch step, leaning back against the railing. A frisson of disappointment that he didn’t sit with her coursed through her.

  “I can’t touch you right now. It’ll distract me too much, and I need to keep my head in the game,” he commented ruefully.

  Huh. Did he realize he’d just picked up on her thought? She listened as he described the men who would be coming for her—their training, the types of weapons and equipment they would likely be carrying. She closed her eyes and let his words paint a picture in her mind. Gradually, her would-be killers took shape. She didn’t see faces or details, but their intense, malevolent energy rippled across her skin. They were still at the moment. All concentrating on something together. Maybe a map or a photograph.

  But as she felt them more clearly, she felt them split up. She murmured, “They’ve broken into four groups of two men each.”

  Max swore quietly. “That was what we were afraid of. Too many points of attack to defend them all.” He relayed her impress
ion over his radio and then listened for a moment. “Roger that,” he replied.

  “They want me to mike you up and get you in your body armor. This situation could get very dynamic very fast.”

  “Meaning the bullets will start flying soon?”

  “Something like that.” He hustled her inside and into a black vest. The thing must weigh close to twenty pounds.

  “I thought Kevlar was lighter than this,” she said.

  “It is. The ceramic chest plate is what makes it heavy.” He knocked on her vest with his knuckles and hit something hard.

  She stood patiently while he strapped a choker around her throat. “This is a voice-activated microphone,” he explained. “Once this switch here is flipped, just talk or whisper and the microphone will pick up and automatically transmit everything you say.”

  “That could be dangerous,” she quipped.

  Max smiled down at her and fitted a rubber-sheathed earbud into her ear. “You’ll be able to hear everything the team says on this. Follow any directions you hear quickly and without question. This will be a fluid situation, and the SEALs may need to adapt very fast.”

  “Is that fancy talk for this is going to be a tough fight to win?”

  “Just do what they tell you to. For the most part, they’ll need you to stay out of sight and keep your head down. The SEALs will do the rest. They should be able to pick off most of the bad guys before anyone knows what hit them.”

  A voice said abruptly in her earpiece, “I have movement twelve hundred yards out. Get Lissa to the foxhole now.”

  “Roger,” Max replied. “Leaving the house now.” He took her by the arm and hustled her down the front steps toward a thicket at the far end of the front yard. Some sort of hiding place had been prepared for her in the bushes on the assumption that the hit squad would target the house as the obvious place to protect Lissa.

  They reached the heavy wall of undergrowth and he carefully lifted a mass of brambles aside. “You’ll have to crawl.”

  She thanked Max’s sister silently for the virtual bath in bug spray Hank had given her earlier. Now the leather work gloves Max had made her don made sense, too. She crawled on her hands and knees without any serious injury to a shallow depression in the ground. It was lined with green leaves and reasonably comfortable.