Code Name_War 0f Stones

by Natasza Waters

  “So I heard another rumor.”

  Uh-oh. “What’s that? I’m all ears.”

  “That Lieutenant Stone has been extra mean to his recruits this week and everyone is pretty sure it’s because of you giving him the brush-off. He might have a wee bit of a thing for you.”

  Wee bit of a thing? “Sure, me and his girlfriend.” Remembering the ranting woman who’d showed up on the beach, she knew just how his girlfriend felt. She quickly looked at her watch. “I’ve got about fifteen minutes to finish this set of pay uploads before we have to get out to the Grinder.”

  Sarah eyed her. “What girlfriend?”

  “The one who showed up crying and screaming on the beach the other day.” Sloane reached out and touched one of the roses on her desk. She should have thrown them away, but they were too beautiful. No one had ever given her flowers before. Damon might be a no-good cheating asshole, but he had good taste.

  “Uhh, Sloane, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, but Damon most definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “I saw her with my own eyes, Sarah, and she was pissed and sad, accusing him of cheating.”

  “With you?”

  Sloane knew she’d already said too much. “Damon followed me after work and gave me these flowers. His girlfriend showed up in the nick of time.”

  Sarah moved a little closer. “Before what?” She grinned, knowing the answer.

  “Before I kissed him, or he kissed me. Stupid. I know better. SEALs are nothing but cheating, lying, dirtbags.”

  “Damon Stone is not that kind of guy, Sloane. He’s hot. And a ton of women want him, but he’s not an asshole.”

  “Don’t date SEALs,” she said, turning away from her lieutenant’s probing eyes, hoping Sarah would go away.

  “So that little flush in your cheeks when I mentioned his name, means nothing?”

  “Yup.”

  “Liar.”

  “Every SEAL is a no-good SEAL. They’re all man whores.”

  “Your brother’s a SEAL,” Sarah countered quickly. “I’m married, but I’m not blind. Damon’s sexy as hell and so is your dad, damn it. How old is he?”

  “Sixty-one.”

  “Boy, I’d do him in a minute.”

  “That’s just gross, Sarah, and you’re talking about my dad.”

  “Well, your brother then.”

  “My brother dated half my girlfriends,” Sloane said, concentrating on her entries. “Now I have half as many girlfriends. Love my brother, but Adam’s a whore, too.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I gotta feeling.”

  “Stop eating ‘Lunch Surprise’ at the galley and you won’t get that feeling, Lieutenant.” Resuming her work, she put her boss on full ignore.

  * * * *

  The wind blasted off the ocean, offering a bit of relief from the sun as they all fell in for the muster. The entire base was summoned, no exceptions. Naval Amphibious Base Coronado had a helluva lot of staff and transients, and it looked like a small city with them all gathered together.

  The Commanding Officer of the base called everyone to attention, and a group of men in full dress uniform took the dais. Sloane didn’t recognize any of the officers except for Admiral Paulson. He, of course, didn’t see her in the sea of faces pouring off the edges of the parade square.

  The Admiral stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. My name is Admiral Paulson. I won’t spend a lot of time making you stand under the blistering sun.”

  Sloane half snorted. Since when did any officer give a shit if they sweated their boots off on the tarmac?

  “Coronado,” he continued, “has been chosen to volunteer for an exercise. The first of its kind. The men and women of this base, the non-commissioned and commissioned men and women,” he corrected, “will be asked to step forward as volunteers for a special training op. I will let Major Curtis from the Central Intelligence Agency explain more.”

  CIA? Crap. Nothing from those bastards was ever upfront.

  Major Curtis acknowledged his turn to speak with a nod as he stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, Admiral.”

  The heavyset Major was in his late fifties, and the older Army General who stood rigidly beside him looked as crusty and mean as they come. The General’s chest pockets weighed heavy with several citation racks, fully decorated.

  “I want to begin by thanking you all, although only a few of you will be selected to participate in this training operation. The details will remain classified until the candidates have been selected. To begin the process with some semblance of order, we have selected the names of fifteen men. Rank has no bearing. Position has no bearing. You are all Special Warfare Operators or have been involved in missions before. I’ll read the names now.” The old geezer of a General handed him a sheet of paper. The wind tried to rip it from his hands, but the Major used both to steady it and instructed, “When I call your names, please present yourself in front of the dais.”

  From the energy vibrating around her, Sloane could tell that everyone was in the dark, but listened carefully if their names would be called.

  “What do you think this is about?” she whispered to Sarah.

  Sarah shot her a dark look. “If CIA is involved, it isn’t good.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Her ears perked when she heard Lieutenant Damon Stone called out.

  Damon had to walk past her, and he gave a small nod, but she ignored him.

  Quickly, fifteen men mustered in front of the uniforms on the dais. They were a mix of Marines and Navy SEALs, but mostly SEALs.

  The General gave the men a stern once-over, and then nodded at the Major. “I’d ask the rest of you men to please fall back on the parade square. And would all the non-commissioned and commissioned women please muster here in front these men.”

  “Say what?” Sarah uttered under her breath. “They gonna build the Arc or something?”

  “Let’s find out. I love a good mystery,” she said, walking toward the dais.

  The base was mostly populated by males. The ratio a good twenty to one, but it still took a few minutes before all the women were present. Sloane took a position in the front line and stood easy, waiting for the mystery to unravel.

  The Major scanned them. “Any woman forty or older may fall out.”

  Well, why the hell didn’t he start with that! That lost a healthy half of them. She shot a quick look at Damon. Like the rest of the guys, he appeared benign but she’d bet a lotta money they were wondering what the hell was going on, just like her.

  “Gentlemen—pick a woman,” the Major ordered. A few heads swiveled and more than a few brows rose. “Keep in mind this woman will be your partner for the entire training op.”

  God, suddenly memories of her seventh grade school dance popped into her mind. She was always the one left leaning against the wall, but that didn’t keep her there. She’d thrown herself into the fray of arms and legs and danced her ass off.

  She had no worries about being chosen.

  “Hey, Sloane.”

  Or…she could be wrong. It was known to happen once in a while. She looked up to see a big friggin’ SEAL step in front of her. She darted a look at his name tag. Dresdon. He’d come to her parents’ party, but he wasn’t a close friend.

  “You’re looking about in the dark as I feel,” he said, and gave her a small smile. “Care to join me?”

  “You’d be right about—”

  “Stand down, Rodeo.”

  Dresdon turned. “Lieutenant?”

  Damon stood behind him. Both men were of equal height, but Damon had more bulk on his torso, all of it toned to rock-hard perfection beneath his khaki uniform. The short-sleeve shirt, perfectly pressed and fitted, didn’t hide the strength of the man, and two ribbon bars sat on his pocket with the Navy SEAL warfare insignia above it.

  Those were a lot of ribbons for a guy his age, although she really didn’t know how old he was.

  She could be wrong�
�again, but Damon’s expression had a predatorial appearance. Shrewd, harsh, scary were all the wrong adjectives, but possessive seemed to hit the target.

  “There’s plenty of others to choose from,” Damon said, and there was no room for debate. It was an indirect order.

  Dresdon turned back to face her. “You’re saying, you choose Sloane?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Petty Officer.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dresdon backed off without argument.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?” she hissed, seeing several of the men still wandered through the ranks of women.

  “Choosing you, because it’s the only way you’re going to let me explain.”

  “I don’t need an explanation, Lieutenant Dirtbag,” she ground out.

  “Sloane, pull in your claws. You’re accusing an innocent man.”

  She remembered what Sarah told her. Maybe the lieutenant kept his private life private, but Sarah was pretty darn good at reconnaissance. “What do you think is going on here?”

  “Not sure, but I’m wary with CIA involved.”

  “Great, so you pick me, huh?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Sloane.” He gave her a reassuring gaze. “Come with me. Be my partner.” He touched her arm, and slowly his hand swam down to hers and he forked his fingers with her. “Seaman Austen, I pick you.”

  She knew this was wrong, but let him lead her back toward the men who’d already picked a female from the ranks. When the rest joined them, the General approached.

  The men lined up behind the women. Damon stood very close to her, and rested a hand lightly on her hip. A quick and unexpected twinge began to sing between her thighs. Great! Stuck with an uber-hot, cheating SEAL for a training op, for who knew how many days. The gods were out to get her.

  The General and the rest of the uniforms took a position in front of them.

  “Sloane,” Admiral Paulson said sharply, and then covered a worried look.

  That didn’t exactly boost her confidence. Admiral Paulson squared a look on Damon, and she could have sworn he nodded in satisfaction.

  Major Curtis eyed them with a slow sweep. “Ladies and gentlemen, you will be taken from the base at this time. You will not be collecting any personal effects before your departure. Follow that gentleman over there.” He indicated a guy dressed in a black suit and shades, standing twenty feet away. “He’ll show you to your transportation.”

  See now…if they were all civilians, the mystery extravaganza would have stopped right there, but most, if not all of them were used to following orders, and keeping their traps shut.

  But not her. No, sir. Close enough, she could read his name tag, she said, “Before we’re whisked away for an all-inclusive holiday, to Hell I presume, I’d like a few more details, General Northcott.”

  A squeeze on her hip from Damon occurred at the same time she saw Paulson bite down on a smile.

  In a nanosecond, the General was in her face trying on the I’m going to intimidate you glare. “Young lady, what’s your name?

  Sticking her tongue in her lower jaw and glancing slowly down at her name tag then into the eyes of the blind as a bat officer, she said, “Seaman Austen, sir.”

  He repeated her name like he was bringing up something thick and sticky from his lungs. “We will be answering your questions once you are at your final destination. What is your trade?”

  “A degree in Business Management, sir. Administration.”

  The General literally sneered. “You won’t have to worry about degrees or paper cuts where you’re going, Seaman.”

  What the heck did that mean? About to volley a couple shots in the general’s direction, Damon stopped her by squeezing her hip firmly, obviously wanting her to stand down. She obeyed, and then wondered how the hell he’d managed to do that to her with just a touch.

  Four black SUV’s waited for them near the entrance to the base. Damon opened the back door and she slid in, with him close behind. Two more couples clambered into the vacant seats in front of them. Traffic was light over the Coronado Bridge and soon they were on the freeway, heading toward the mountains.

  The proverbial “Man in Black” drove their vehicle, decked out in shades, and a sleek dark suit, with a communications coil running from his ear down his neck and into his back collar.

  “What’s your SEAL spidey-sense telling you?” she asked Damon, who sat snug against her although they had the entire back seat to themselves. She should have put space between them, especially with the electrical charge zipping through her blood where their bodies touched.

  He draped one muscled arm across the back seat. “Nothing, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. We’re always in the know somehow, some way. This came outta left field.”

  “Guess we’ll just have to wait for the great reveal.”

  Damon chuckled and curled his arm around her shoulder. He had a gentle touch, but the unyielding strength of his biceps wasn’t missed. “Don’t worry, Seaman Austen, we’re not lab rats.”

  “Don’t count on it. There’s all sorts of dark and dirty shit going on with these guys, according to my dad.”

  The grin slipped from Damon’s lips, truly kissable lips, the lips she was dying to taste the other day before his girlfriend showed up. And now those lips, perfectly formed and full with a strong cusp set in a lean jaw, were far too close to hers.

  She snapped her eyes away and set her mind back on the issues at hand.

  “Yeah, don’t I know it.” Their eyes locked for a second, and then he turned up his small smile like you’d tune a radio, making him look completely at ease and in control, which did wonders for her uncertainty. When Damon got serious, he could drop a bird from a wire just by looking at it with those intense blue eyes.

  Two other couples had joined them on their ride from the base, but since everyone was in the dark, there was no point in bantering options. They had none at the moment. The guys seemed to know each other, as did the two women, but they weren’t best friends. She didn’t know any of them, except Damon.

  After an hour passed, she called out to the driver. “Excuse me, ye who shall remain nameless. If your tongue hasn’t been cut out by the Feds, can you give us an ETA? I need to stop at the heads, or the side of the road. I’m not fussy, but I have to empty the ballast tanks.”

  The guys chuckled and the other two women jumped in with agreement.

  “Ten more minutes,” their subdued driver answered.

  Good to his word, they were bumping along a pitted paved road into the middle of nowhere before ten minutes was up. The bouncing didn’t help her bladder, nor the tall barbed fence they approached.

  Sloane twisted her neck to see armed soldiers in full combat gear lock it shut once they passed through. She fired a look at Damon, who watched everything.

  “Nothing to be worried about, right?” Feeling like she’d just entered Folsom State Prison, she reminded herself they were in an SUV, not a bus with bars.

  Damon leaned over and spoke quietly in her ear. “We exercise up here. This is Warner Springs. The recruits do qualification training at this location.”

  “I know. Survival, evasion, resistance and escape,” she said quietly.

  A bump in the road jostled them, and her cheek brushed against Damon’s afternoon stubble making her nerve endings tingle. He smelled good. Male, but no sinus-cloying aftershave. Instead, his skin had an alluring, fresh scent like the beach after it rained.

  “I forgot you probably know as much about SEALs as us.” His breath swept through her hair and against the sensitive skin of her ear.

  It was like putting a match to a puddle of gasoline. A woof of ignition lit between her thighs. She flinched and Damon didn’t miss it.

  Those blues of his darkened with unmistakable need as he pulled away, but not far enough. Their lips were so close and the vibration between them like two magnets powering up. She barely breathed as she followed the fine angles of his jaw, pa
st hollowed cheeks and sculpted high cheekbones. One more lift of her eyes, and she met his simmering gaze.

  Holy shit! Was that her heart pounding like an African drum in her chest?

  The vehicle stopped with a jerk, yanking her out of their penetrating trance. Sharing space with Damon was—dangerous. Blinking, she inwardly shook off the unsettled feeling in her belly.

  They’d stopped in front of a small, white, non-descript building. Five more SUVs came to a crunching halt on the rocky ground beside them. Sloane slipped across the seat and accepted Damon’s hand as she exited. He surveyed their surroundings.

  As the other SEALs got out, they did the same, and then they shared a look amongst each other. Their expressions revealed nothing, but the SEALs’ body language spoke loudly: taut, alert—ready. She’d seen it many times with her brother, Adam, and her father.

  Women had a sixth sense as well. The one that said, beware.

  They’d climbed into the mountain range and although the countryside was arid, plenty of trees dotted the slopes and valleys. Herded into the building, she stayed close to Damon. She didn’t have a choice, he had her tucked next to him.

  Benches nested against the far wall, but little else lined the cement floor of the building. They remained standing. A whiteboard covered the far wall, and a speaking podium stood solo without an occupant.

  The General, Major Curtis, and Admiral Paulson entered, taking front stage. No one ordered them to sit, which meant they weren’t staying long.

  The Major spoke while the General and Admiral Paulson hung back. “You no doubt have a lot of questions. And you won’t be asking any of them. You will listen, follow our instructions, and then you will be separated for further briefings.”

  His blatant disregard elicited an angry rattle in Sloane and she clenched her fists. Damon’s large hand slid over hers as if to settle her and stop her visible cue.

  The Major continued, “You have been brought here for a seven day training op. You will not leave the grounds unless you are carried out on a stretcher.”

  Jesus, what a way to kick this party off. Nothing like setting the bar high, she thought to herself.

  “There are fundamental reasons why we cannot disclose more information on this exercise, but the end results will have repercussions. Important ones.”