Fatal Vision: SEALs of Shadow Force, Book 5

by Misty Evans

  If it was him.

  Goddamn Ingram could have easily cleared that up if he’d brought the fucking files and just shared everything. The guy hadn’t even picked up his voicemail.

  “That’s classified information,” Beatrice said, bringing Colton back to the present.

  “Have Rory get it.”

  “I mean about SFI. Yes, Rory can get hold of classified military documents, but I’m not handing over information about your SFI missions to anyone.”

  Really? He hadn’t expected pushback about that. “I need to prove to Shel—the FBI—that I have an alibi for several dates.”

  “An alibi?”

  For once, he’d caught Beatrice by surprise.

  “Colton, what is going on?”

  “You won’t believe this.” He didn’t himself. He forced a chuckle so she wouldn’t know how scared he was. “Or maybe you will. Anyway, the case Shelby was working when she was shot? The murders of those three veterans? This is just a formality, providing my whereabouts at the time of the murders.”

  A pause. “And the list of your SEAL missions?”

  The sun was directly overhead, shining in his eyes. “I want those for me. One of the dead men was a friend when I was at the Home. The other two I obviously met in the Navy. All three worked in various support positions on some of my SEAL missions. I need to see if there was a common link beyond that.”

  “They were all part of Connor’s rescue mission. I thought that was the link.”

  “It may be, but it may not. It could just be…me.”

  He heard someone speak in the background and Beatrice covered the phone to say something. Then she was back. “Gathering that information will take time.”

  “I’d really like to see the FBI file on Shelby’s shooting as well. Her boss doesn’t like to share.”

  “Anything else while I’m playing Santa Claus? A new car? Beachfront property?”

  Beatrice wasn’t one to joke. “I think I’m rubbing off on you, boss. The snark in your voice is a nice change.”

  She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “So you want me to authorize Rory not only to hack into military databases, but also the FBI’s case files?”

  “They should have done an extensive investigation, considering the victim was one of their own.”

  “Why can’t Agent Claiborne get her hands on it?”

  “The ASAC is playing his cards close to the vest. She’s still on medical leave so he has a reason. He was at the therapy center yesterday with the serial killer file wanting to question her about it, but on the flip side, when I asked him today to let her look at her own file, he pulled the medical leave card and how he doesn’t want to upset her. I can’t figure this guy out.”

  A heavy sigh. How many times in his life had he heard one of those?

  “I may have found a way to get copies of the autopsies,” Beatrice said. “I’ll get Rory on the Naval records and FBI files. Give me a few hours and I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Beatrice. I mean it.”

  “Watch your backside. We need you.”

  The phone went dead.

  We need you.

  They didn’t really. There were men on the team who were far more competent—and likable. Men whom Beatrice trusted as much as she did her own husband.

  And there was no one she trusted more than Cal.

  The one solid Colton had with her was that he’d helped rescue her, Cal, and Sloane when Beatrice was giving birth.

  Knight in shining armor. That’s me. Riding in at the last second to save the day.

  Not.

  He ran a hand through his hair. God, what he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now.

  Shelby had made him give them up before he’d even got a good addiction going.

  Goddamn woman, always looking out for him, taking care of him.

  Until Connor’s rescue.

  He’d saved the day that time too. Saved Connor, captured Iman Quan, and thought he’d be a SEAL forever.

  And then that pussy terrorist went kamikaze on him and Shelby. It had all happened so fast. He’d tried to save them all.

  Shelby’s report to her superiors had sited ‘possible personal requital’.

  Requital, what a stupid word. Vengeance, retribution…he liked those words better. Even revenge.

  And yeah, he’d sure as hell considered taking revenge for Connor on Quan. No doubt about it.

  But Shelby had gotten in his way.

  She’d wanted to work counterterrorism since 9/11. Twelve years old and she’d known then that she wanted to hunt terrorists. He couldn’t blame her; he’d felt the same.

  Jack and Martha had thought differently, continuing to force Shelby into the warped Southern belle role.

  Colton had scoffed at the idea when she’d finally admitted to him that she’d been stalking the federal government—the FBI, CIA, and Homeland. During her high school years she’d contacted them all, asking for a job. There was no way those agencies cared about a teenage beauty queen with no experience doing undercover work for them.

  And then Shelby had attended Oklahoma University and ended up on the path to Miss Okie. Before he knew it, she was acting strange. Quieter than usual. Unexplained meetings and absences.

  He’d thought it was because they were apart so much with his missions overseas. When it all came out, he discovered his girlfriend was secretly gathering information on a homegrown terrorist group that was recruiting members on campus. Shelby had infiltrated them, uncovered an operation that employed college kids to run a cyber attack, and helped the Feds shut it down.

  While never missing one class or runway appearance.

  He’d been more than a little impressed.

  Not that he’d ever been able to stop her from anything she set her mind to. Okie women were a breed apart. They could hogtie you and bake you a cake at the same time.

  Salisbury came loping back and together they climbed the back stairs to the door. Connor waited just inside. “We good?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for keeping Fed boy out earlier. Shelby still sleeping?”

  They’d had a light lunch, Shelby filling Connor in on the serial killer investigation—which surprised Colton since she’d been so careful to keep it from Jaya. But that was Shel for you—you never knew how her mind worked when it came to some things.

  Only, he did know. She was hoping, after her call to Lori Evers, that Connor could help clear Colton’s name if it came down to it. Therefore, Connor had to know the details.

  “She’s awake and working on her therapy again,” Connor said, keeping his voice low and leaning against the paneled hallway wall. “She’s a beast. Sabrina’s flight will be in at three. Beatrice has a ‘friend’ with a pseudo lab Red can use to analyze that wrapper, and if we get our hands on any of the trace evidence from Shelby’s shooting, Red can analyze that as well.”

  Connor called his girlfriend Red because of her hair. The nickname had caught on at the office, which irritated Sabrina since her Rock Star code name was 21 Pilots and she was darn proud of her ability to fly helicopters. The only person she didn’t mind calling her Red was Connor.

  Beatrice had many contacts in the espionage world. Some more comfortable in the black market underworld than the legal side of things. “This friend of Beatrice’s nearby?”

  “A few miles northeast of here. Runs a wind turbine farm and supposedly has a full, on-site lab. Red’s eager to get to work.”

  “What are you two whispering about back there?” Shelby’s voice filtered to them.

  Connor winked at Colton and dropped his voice another notch. “She’s got the hearing of a hawk.”

  “I heard that,” she called.

  Connor went to get a soda from the fridge. Colton found Shelby cruising around a chair in the center of the living room and doing a nice job of not catching the walker’s wheels on anything. Salisbury had made himself comfortable on said chair, enjoying a pet on the head every time Shelby made
a lap.

  “Nice job, speedy,” he teased, flopping down on the couch. “You’re better today.”

  She blew air out her bottom lip, flipping the bangs off her forehead as she went for another lap. “I have cases to solve and you’re on a deadline. I need to make the most of our time together.”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving until I catch the asshole who shot you.”

  Shelby maneuvered over and dropped onto the sofa next to him. “What is this wrapper Connor mentioned? Why is your boss flying Sabrina here to run lab tests?”

  Until he had something solid, there was no reason to get her hopes up. He reached for her feet and brought them to his lap. “Let’s talk about getting the file the FBI has on your shooting.”

  Salisbury jumped up and landed on Shelby’s stomach, forcing an “oof,” out of her, but she didn’t make the dog get down. “You really think you can change the subject that easily? You used to have more finesse.”

  Colton scratched the dog’s ears. “Guess I’m out of practice. Connor needed an excuse to get Sabrina here to meet you. Salisbury found a wrapper at the place across the street this morning. I told Beatrice it might be a clue but none of us have faith in the local PD to test it for prints, hence I needed Sabrina.”

  She rearranged a pillow behind her head and sank into a more relaxed position, sighing as he rubbed the arch of her right foot. “That’s obviously only part of the story, but since your boss was so willing to send Connor here to deliver a security system, I won’t doubt it’s true. Plus, you’re massaging my feet and I don’t want to argue ’cuz you’ll stop. Later, you can tell me the truth or I’ll get it out of Connor. Either way, I’m happy I get to meet Sabrina.”

  Colton continued rubbing her foot and gently working his way up her calf. She moaned softly as his thumb found a tight knot and he made little circles around it. “Is there anyone else at the Bureau who could get you a copy of the reports from your shooting? What about that Denbe guy?”

  Her eyes closed and she let him move her leg up and down, bending the knee and manipulating her hip. “I have an idea on how to get it without raising suspicions, and also I want to see my file on the serial killer at the office. My notes here seem incomplete.”

  Did she want to see if his picture was in the office file? He worked on her range of motion, continuing to massage out kinks and tight muscles in her leg. “How are we going to do that? Sweet talking your SOB of a boss didn’t work—I already tried that.”

  “Sweet talking? Is that what you call it? He’s protecting the case; he can’t just let anyone look at the files. I would do the same if I were in his position.”

  “He’s pretending to be protecting you. Says he doesn’t want to overtax you since you haven’t been officially released from your doctor’s care yet.”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “You’ve seen your share of violent crimes and terrorism and were in line to head your own counterterrorism taskforce before the shooting. While you’re not back at your desk yet, you’re perfectly cognizant and he needs you to solve the serial murder case, which he brought to you the other day to discuss, with no reservations then. He’s being evasive, not protective, and I think I know why.”

  She opened one eye and glared at him. “Why?”

  “He’s crushing on you big time and looking for any excuse to visit you daily, and he’s hiding something about your shooting.”

  The second eye opened. “Why would he do that?”

  Running his hands over her leg felt so good, so right. He didn’t want to blow it by riling her up, because she’d take her shapely legs away from him.

  So he kept quiet on his theories about Ingram—which he couldn’t prove anyway—and went to work massaging her left foot. “That’s the question of the hour.”

  She was quiet, her body wanting to relax into the massage while her brain fought to keep her alert. “The only way to know for sure is for us to get those files, look at the evidence reports and interviews, and see if we get a fresh perspective on any of it.”

  “So what’s your plan?”

  “It occurred to me this morning that I need to stop by the office and get something from my desk.”

  Such a liar. “And what would that be? Cuz you know your boss is going to be aware of the real reason you’re making a trip to HQ.”

  “It needs to be something personal. Something I would never ask Theo to bring to me.”

  “Tampons?”

  She smacked his arm. “Something silly to everyone else but important to me.”

  “Can’t you say you lost your keys and thought you might have left them there?”

  “Nah. He’d know you wouldn’t bring me to the office to look for keys. What do I need those for anyway right now? It’s not like I can drive.”

  “How about your good luck charm?”

  She scrunched up a face. “I don’t have one.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “I’ve got it.” She snapped her fingers and sat up. “I know exactly what to use as the ploy.”

  She swung her legs off his lap and set Salisbury on the rug. “Come on. We’ve got a file to sneak out of the FBI.”

  Chapter Eleven

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  PULLING ONE OVER on Theo was going to take all of Shelby’s Miss Oklahoma charm.

  “They’ll never let me inside,” Colton murmured as he pushed the wheelchair up the handicap ramp to the front door.

  He and Connor had her bathroom drain flowing again, they’d mowed the lawn, and fixed her back porch step, which had started leaning sometime in the past three months. Even her sticky bedroom window slid once more with ease.

  “Hush.” Shelby was already wearing her best smile. While anxiety hummed under her breastbone, the smile wasn’t entirely an act. It was nice to have a man around again, independent woman or not. She could have fixed the issues in her house, but having Colton around had its advantages.

  Because, honestly, there was nothing she hated more than unclogging drains.

  The wheelchair was probably unnecessary but it made for a good prop. She hated looking incapable in front of her peers, but the more helpless she appeared, the less likely anyone would be suspicious about this visit. “We already made it this far. Positive attitude, Bells.”

  He snickered. “As long as I don’t end up behind bars for the next thirty years.”

  This small FBI office wasn’t listed in the phone book, nor did it show up on search engines. Most people in the area believed it was a tech company that specialized in government contracts.

  Which wasn’t far from the truth.

  The “contracts” Shelby and her handpicked group of teammates specialized in involved investigations into the armed forces and its veterans. From the DoD on down to the VA hospital, sensitive cases came across their desks. The murder of veterans, especially those who’d served on Special Operations teams, were Shelby’s specialty.

  She’d had a bright future with the Bureau and still did. She just needed to solve the serial murder case and prove to her superiors once more that she could be a shining star in their ranks.

  Stealing case files from the office probably wasn’t the best idea, but she couldn’t sit on her backside and twiddle her thumbs. Not when she knew she’d uncovered something that day and the killer had come after her. Not with Connor and Colton here playing bodyguard when their boss needed them back in DC.

  And not when Shelby herself had too many nagging questions floating around her brain.

  She’d gotten herself and Colton through the gates with a call to the front desk. Her buddy, Mindy Hampton, was manning the phones and had been thrilled to hear Shelby was paying a visit.

  Connor sat outside in his truck. He needed to go pick up his girlfriend soon, so Shelby needed to make this quick.

  She had the feeling by Mindy’s reaction though, that this would not be a quick
visit. The group was small and they’d shared a lot. Several of them were followers of her dad’s ministry. They thought of Reverend Jack Claiborne as their spiritual leader and his daughter was family.

  That’s where Shelby hoped the wheelchair would come in handy. If she looked and acted the part of an easily exhausted, disabled agent, she could use that to beg off when it was time to skedaddle.

  As expected, Mindy stopped her at the check-in desk—they didn’t have the official metal detector here, like most FBI offices had installed. Since their little team was somewhat secret and well-hidden, they didn’t get visitors off the street.

  “Oh my God,” Mindy said, her thick upper East Coast accent dripping from each syllable. “You look freakin’ amazing, Shelby!”

  Her face said otherwise, but Shelby was used to that right now. In some ways, she was a walking—or wheelchair-riding—miracle. Amazing might be stretching it about her looks, but then, anything looked better than dead.

  Mindy scooted around the desk and hugged Shelby as if they were the best of friends.

  “And who is this tall drink of water?” she asked, eyeing Colton.

  Shelby introduced them and Mindy grabbed her handheld wand. “Well, let’s see if you’ve got any guns on you,” she said and winked at him.

  Colton played his cards right, grinning and winking back. “Why, Agent Hampton, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with this ol’ boy.”

  Mindy was behind him, making him hold his arms out. Shelby caught her staring at Colton’s butt and paying no attention to the wand. “Shelby did say you were divorced.” She laughed evilly under her breath. “And it’s not every day, I get a fine-looking cowboy like you in here.”

  A few questions about Shelby’s health later, and she and Colton were finally on their way to her office at the back.

  Since Shelby’s chair was mostly metal, she’d stood up and let Mindy inspect it. Formality, she had said, and Shelby agreed, although she felt an errant twinge. Close co-workers was one thing; agents who went by the book another. Theo had repeatedly drilled it into their heads. He had worked at a larger office where one of the agents had gone off the sane train and shot three of his fellow agents. The pressure of the job, the frustrations of the system, sometimes did that.