Chasing Fortune (Stealth Ops Book 8)

by Brittney Sahin

  She plucked a stray hair away from her face and wet her lips, answering his comment by silently studying him.

  “There was a someone, wasn’t there?” he found himself asking when she’d yet to talk. It wasn’t fair that he was asking her to peel back layers when he wasn’t doing it himself, but the curious kid still lived inside of him, and that part of him would always want answers. He wanted to discover the truth that made Rosemary McAdams who she was today. “There’s always a someone,” he added, his stomach growing tight when the pain he thought he’d put behind him years ago clamored to emerge. That gut-wrenching, gnawing feeling he always tried to convince himself was just hunger pains. But he was full right now, and he couldn’t write it off as anything other than his past reaching for him.

  “Was there a someone for you? A someone who made you want to join the Navy? Or maybe influenced why you left?” She scooted closer to the small square table, and her knees bumped into his. Rather than flinch or shy away from the accidental touch, she stayed in place and met his gaze with equal intensity. Her eyes held his and remained focused under his rapt attention.

  He quietly nodded, unable to divulge much more about his “departure” from the Navy since he was technically still operating off-the-books.

  Rory peered down at the distressed wood of the tabletop and lifted her right hand to her ear, using her thumb and forefinger to smooth over the small, pink pearl earring, as if checking that it was still in place. “I guess you could say there was a someone for me.” Her words sounded more like deference for a past friend than a loved one, but . . .

  “A someone you loved?” Why’d I ask that? It’s not my business.

  She lifted her eyes to his. “Andrew could only ever love his job.”

  “Andrew.” He allowed the name to sit in his mind, processing.

  “I met him in Cosenza. My archaeology professor approached me with a request two years after I graduated and had just finished all my coursework for canine training. He asked if I was available to go on a dig with him in Italy.”

  “The gold supposedly buried along with King Alaric, the guy who sacked Rome?”

  Her eyes widened at his words. “How’d you—”

  “I’m a Roman history buff. Not sure why, but it was one of the only subjects that interested me in history class back in high school. I saw something on the news a few years back that the Italians think they have a location for the treasure. Like a billion or more in value.”

  “Yeah, but before then, my professor thought he knew where it was and had funding from a big firm to go and excavate. He quit his job, and he approached me, asking if I’d go to Italy for six months with him before I officially began training dogs.”

  “Why you?” Did the professor have a thing for her? Was the professor Andrew? If so, he didn’t like the guy already.

  “I loved archeology, but the expense of grad school and then the reality of trying to make a career out of it was . . . daunting. But I was his best student and always fascinated with his stories about the hidden treasure. We met a couple of times a week at a coffee shop. I bought him a caramel macchiato in exchange for tales of treasure. So, I thought, what the hell, why not have an adventure for six months.”

  “But you never came back,” Chris said, noting the touch of sadness filling her eyes.

  “My professor never did find the treasure, but I met Andrew on that trip. He convinced me to take a job with him, to put all my research skills I’d learned as a history major to good use.” She rose from the table, walked to the three steps leading to the grass, and sat on the top one.

  Chris followed her, leaving his beer on the table. He’d stopped at one since Rory had looked at it with a grimace. She was still recovering from the brownies, but she’d said his dinner had helped ease the dull ache in her stomach, so that was good.

  Rory’s hands rested on either side of her, gripping the step, and as he positioned himself to sit next to her, his palm accidentally brushed along the top of her hand. As they both glanced down at the contact, Chris couldn’t help but notice how small and dainty she looked compared to him.

  “Treasure hunting is ninety percent research. It’s not all diving and scaling cliffs or rappelling into caves. And then when you do find a location, there’s a ton of work. Ground-penetrating radar, sonar software, infrared tech, drones . . . it’s complex.”

  “You miss it,” he said, observing what could only be equated to as loss or mourning in her eyes when she chanced a look at him.

  “Yes and no. Being in the Atlantic Ocean, swimming inside a wreck, knowing at any minute it could cave in on you—it’s an experience, that’s for sure. Seeing the twisted and broken pieces, the medley of steel and pipes. The swirl of silt on the ocean floor. It’s like being on another planet down there.” Her hands moved into the air as she spoke with excitement. “Or when you’re in a secret cave, and you know if someone else shows up, you might have to run, fight, or shoot, and not necessarily in that order, your pulse will throb like crazy.”

  “So, you’re an adrenaline junkie.” He understood that. Hell, he was the same way. “Were you more like Indiana Jones or the dude in Romancing the Stone?” He hoped to lighten the mood since a sudden darkness hovered over her, and he wanted to go back to laughing until his stomach hurt. He didn’t want to see pain in her eyes.

  She chuckled. “You saw Romancing the Stone?”

  “Of course.” He lifted his chin to prompt an answer. “So?”

  “Neither. More like Kate Hudson in Fool’s Gold, and not because her character was a diver, but because she was with a guy obsessed with finding treasure.” She shook her head. “But I got out five years ago.” Her gaze moved back to the open field of grass stretched out before them. There was plenty of land for her to set up a training center. “I don’t miss Andrew, and although I do miss treasure hunting, I’d never go back to that life. I left for a reason.”

  So, what had she been doing during the last five years that would have people wanting her dead? “But you won’t tell me the reason?”

  “Oh, that one is easy.” Her pinky finger touched his, most likely on accident, but the slight touch had him wanting more. “I was strongly opposed to keeping what I felt wasn’t mine to keep. And I had issues with artifacts winding up in museums where they didn’t belong, either.”

  Ah. Explained why there were no artifacts displayed around her house.

  “There’s a huge black market for antiquities, and the demand is high,” she continued. “Treasure hunters are all basically outlaws.”

  “With a little bit of pirate thrown in,” he teased. “But I guess that makes sense. So, what you’re saying is that you’re a good person.” He smiled. “Not a criminal I should be worried about.”

  “I did my fair share of things that would . . .” She let her voice trail off. “But um, Andrew will be in D.C. a week from tonight,” she quickly said. “He’s presenting some artifacts from his latest find. A Spanish galleon. He invited me, but I wasn’t planning to go.”

  “But you’re thinking about it now since you’ll be so close? You know, staying with me and Bear in Virginia.”

  “Nice try.” She peered at him with a grin.

  “Wait, are you referring to Andrew Cutter? The Andrew Cutter, the one I’ve seen on TV?” The Brad Pitt look-alike, the Ocean’s Eleven, total badass version of Brad Pitt.

  She nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. He’s in his late forties, but I promise I don’t have father issues or something. He just got me wrapped up in the excitement and allure of treasure hunting, and we dated on and off while working together, but then I realized that life wasn’t for me, so I walked away.”

  That five-year gap between then and now was what he still had to figure out. And clearly, she was vague as shit unless high, so he wasn’t sure how he’d pull the truth out of her. But he had no choice but to do whatever it’d take to keep her safe. No way would he be able to walk away from her with a possible target on her head
, not when he only finally found a woman that made him . . .

  He blinked a few times, pushing his thoughts away for the time being. “But training is the life for you now?”

  “That was the life I was supposed to have had if my professor hadn’t sought me out.” She brought her palms to her jeaned thighs and smoothed them up and down.

  “But is it the life you want?” As much as he wanted her to train Bear, it’d crush him to have a courageous and adventurous woman like her do something that wasn’t in her heart. He was all about pursuing what made you happy, and he was a living, breathing example of that. Operating and the teams were everything to him.

  “Yes.” But the word came out strained, and the tight draw of her lips before she rose from the step was a red flag.

  “Why New Orleans? Why set up shop here?” he pushed, knowing he now had no choice but to dive into the part of the evening he’d been avoiding. Unraveling the mystery that was Rosemary McAdams wasn’t going to happen in one night. But one night was all he had to convince her to work with Bear. If Chris could manage that, he’d be able to keep her safe.

  “I love the culture. The history. The food. Location. Basically everything.”

  Well, that was a rehearsed line if he ever heard one, one she probably offered those who asked, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of generic answers, not when it came to her.

  Rory tucked her hands into the deep pockets of her sweater, eyes cast to the ceiling fan that wasn’t on.

  “And it’s far enough away from your family to keep them safe but close enough for you to see them when you want?” The bubble of bliss they’d been floating in had officially popped.

  “Chris.” Her warning shot was fired with enough flare it nearly knocked him back a step.

  Rory’s hazel gaze met his face, full of that same fire, and he held both palms in the air. “How are you feeling? Stomach okay? Head?”

  “Way to change the subject,” she said as if now out of steam.

  “Thought that’s what you wanted, but we will have to talk about the proverbial elephant in the room sooner or later. Preferably sooner.” Who wanted her dead, and why? Chris’s life, the nature of his work, was usually the biggest secret in the room, but it seemed he had some competition.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” She removed her hands from her pockets.

  “You do, do ya?” he asked with a casual smile playing across his lips, a second chance to try and squash the heavy with a little light before the darkness of the truth clouded their evening again.

  “My life is complicated, but being in Louisiana, well, I was hoping to uncomplicate things.” She put a hand to the hollow of her throat, and his eyes followed the path of her fingers as they trailed down to the curve of her tank top.

  “If I were to bring Bear to New Orleans to train, would you consider it then?” He wasn’t sure how he’d swing that, and Elaina would be devastated, but he didn’t want to screw up Rory’s life. He also didn’t want her getting hurt, so he had to find a way to protect her somehow.

  She frowned. “You can’t do that. You and I both know that.”

  “But if I could?”

  “I won’t let you.” She set her lips in that now-familiar tight, stubborn line.

  “I hunt bad guys for a living, you know.” He carefully considered his next words. “I’d do anything and everything to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t doubt you would, but it’s not your job to protect me.”

  “And whose job is it?”

  “Mine, and the four firearms inside my house.”

  Four? His brows rose in surprise. Well, okay.

  “And my black belt in karate has me covered.” She stepped around the table and moved closer to him, a challenging lift of her chin.

  “I need you,” he managed out. “Bear does, too. If you don’t need protecting, then please let me hire you. Think about how badly I’ll screw up without you.” Time for a new plan. It was clear he wouldn’t win her over by suffocating her with ideas of keeping her safe. “Plus, you haven’t had experience in a decade. I imagine if you can advertise the fact you trained a Belgian Malinois for a SEAL Team, that might look good to future clients.”

  “You work for a security company now,” she shot back, but there was curiosity in her eyes.

  “Tomato, tomahto.”

  Rory gave him her back, and his eyes moved to the set of Adirondack chairs down by the firepit.

  “You think you can lay off the charm while I’m there? No flirting. No sexy looks like you were giving me tonight?”

  “I was not giving sexy—” He cut himself off when she faced him with the most adorable twist of her lips and cute tightening of her eyes. “I can do whatever you need me to do if it means you’ll work with Bear.” And let me help you.

  “And if I stay at your house in Virginia, it’ll only be to make sure you don’t let Bear sleep with you. No late-night drinks while wearing lingerie.”

  “I promise not to wear lingerie.” He set a hand to his heart.

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. Lingerie chafes. No worries. I won’t wear it.”

  She closed the last bit of space between them and looked up to meet his gaze since she was about six to eight inches shorter than him. “One condition. One rule if I go.”

  “Anything,” he mouthed, eager and grateful it hadn’t taken too much convincing to lure her to Virginia in hopes of saving her life.

  She arched a brow and offered her hand, and he observed her long, slender fingers and started to reach for her when she whispered, “No falling for me.”

  Chapter Six

  Washington, D.C.

  “I just need a minute. You go on ahead,” Rory said to Chris as they stood at the front door of his friend Liam’s home. “Gotta make a quick call.”

  Chris hadn’t wanted to risk getting chewed out by his buddies’ wives for being late to Ana and A.J.’s surprise party, so they’d driven directly there after landing at D.C.’s National Airport. Rory’s bags were still in the back of Chris’s black Jeep Rubicon since there’d been no time after the flight to stop by his rental in Virginia.

  She’d done a quick change in the bathroom at the airport, switching from jeans to a soft cotton, navy-blue sleeveless wrap dress that fell just below her knees, layering a short denim jacket over it. Gray ankle boots and a long silver pendant in the shape of a compass completed the look.

  Chris had homed right in on the compass when she’d exited the bathroom, a smile playing on his lips. You look beautiful, he’d said before sweeping his focus to her eyes. He hadn’t changed, opting to stay in khaki pants, a black, long-sleeved button-down shirt, and black boots that looked more combat than casual. You smell good, too, he’d added when reaching for her bag at her side.

  “You sure you want to come in alone? I can wait for you.” He glanced around at the charming neighborhood situated within the beating heart of the nation. Based on the number of cars lining the street, Rory assumed the house was packed.

  Chris had said everyone would be at the party from his company except Luke Scott. He had his second baby last month, and he and his wife were back home in New York City.

  Rory had spent most of the flight peppering Chris with questions about his coworkers, hoping it’d distract him from asking her questions about herself. Even though A.J. had filled her in over the years about the group of men and women he worked with, the way Chris’s eyes lit up as he chatted about the guys warmed her heart.

  “I may come from a small town, but my home was always bustling with people. Never a minute alone. I can manage.” She reached for his forearm and offered him a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’m happy you’re here. I really am.” Heavens, the man was handsome. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and she followed the line of his tan throat up to where his hand stroked his closely trimmed beard.

  Rory let go of his arm and swiped a hand through her wavy locks. She’d decided to leave
her hair down for the party. “I am, too.” And she was. Truly. She was also terrified that he’d get hurt.

  “Glad your brother didn’t try to kill me when I told him I was bringing you home with me.”

  She smiled at the memory of how that conversation went down last night. Jesse had called A.J. to get his stamp of approval, and he’d also threatened bodily harm to Chris if anything happened to her.

  “Meet you inside,” she promised before grabbing her phone from her small shoulder bag. He nodded and hesitantly turned away, the lines of his body tense as he moved. She was certain his apprehension was due to what she’d inadvertently let slip while under the influence of those brownies yesterday. And now he was a man on a mission. She could tell he wasn’t a person to let something so alarming go. She’d have to try and distract the hell out of him in hopes he’d move on.

  Carter Dominick was already one too many people who knew about her. She’d been so careful and cautious over the years—changing her appearance for each job. No one had gotten the drop on her until Carter. But he wasn’t your run-of-the-mill criminal. His military and CIA background made him a more formidable threat, and she should have known better than to risk going anywhere near him. The fact she’d taken the bait was proof enough it was time for her to step aside, even though the fight wasn’t over—and would the fight ever be over?

  Rory rotated her neck and tried to loosen the tension before dialing A.J.’s sister.

  “Hey, it’s me,” she said when Ella picked up on the third ring. Rory walked back down the front steps and closer to the street since she could hear the partygoers in the backyard. She didn’t want anyone to be able to listen in on her conversation with Ella. “I’m here. About to see your brother and Ana.”

  “I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you’d back out at the last minute,” Ella said. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I don’t always run.” I’m trying not to do that anymore. Feet on the ground. Plant some roots.

  “You’re a free spirit. There’s nothing wrong with that.”