Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  “Lose what?” Her eyes still heavy with pleasure, she looked up to meet his gaze. “The sex? That’s supposed to be over. Whether it was over yesterday or next week, it wasn’t supposed to last.”

  “It wasn’t just sex.” He scowled. “Don’t cheapen what we had by pretending that’s all it was.”

  As soon as the words were out, he wanted them back. What the hell was wrong with him, spouting crazy talk like that? What was next? Shoe shopping and braiding each other’s hair?

  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” she asked, her words as wary as the knot in Diego’s belly. “Are you going to ask if I still respect you next?”

  He had to grin, appreciating her mouth even though he was frustrated that she wasn’t playing the game the way most women would.

  “There ya go,” he said. “Keeping the spirit alive.”

  “Is that a SEAL saying?”

  She pushed her hair off her face, then took a deep breath and wiped her fingers under her eyes as if tidying that makeup she’d so carefully applied. “Brandon’s friend said the same thing.”

  “What friend?”

  “One of you.” She leaned back enough to flick a hand toward Diego as if he was the embodiment of whatever she was talking about. “One of your Navy teammates. A SEAL, I guess.”

  “Which friend?” Diego’s body, already tense with need and edgy with unfulfilled desire, stiffened. “One of the guys you met yesterday?”

  “I guess he was there, but we didn’t formally meet.” Her shrug was more a slide of her body against his than an answer. He harnessed his impatience as Harper hummed, then leaned back to tug, button and adjust her clothing. His mind was racing too fast to slow down and appreciate the view.

  “But that’s when you heard it? Yesterday?”

  The orgasm apparently draining the last of her reserves, Harper lay back again, her legs curled up and hands folded beneath her cheek.

  “Not yesterday. Before,” she murmured as her lashes fluttered down. “Sympathies. He sent a letter saying he was sorry that Nathan lost his father, that we should keep Brandon’s spirit alive.”

  He hadn’t found a letter in her house.

  He hadn’t found evidence of any thing to do with Ramsey. Not a single thing.

  Trying to harness his impatience, he waited. But Harper was drifting, exhaustion pulling her deeper into its clutches.

  “Harper!” Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gave her a single shake. She mumbled something, sighed, then snuggled her chin into his wrist.

  Dammit. Feeling like enough of an ass to be glad there was nobody else on this flight, Diego huffed, then leaned down to get her attention the only way he knew how.

  He pressed his mouth to hers.

  Her lips opened, welcoming him to the damp warmth of her kiss. Their tongues tangled in a hypnotically sensual slide.

  “Again?” she murmured. Her lashes fluttered open, her eyes filled with a dusky, sleepy passion.

  “What’s the name?” he asked, ignoring that passion. “The name of the friend who sent the letter?”

  “Hmm?” Harper blinked the sleep away, looking as if she were trying to find her thoughts. “The friend? Dane, something.”

  Shit. Damn, shit, damn. Diego grabbed his cell phone.

  “Adams, Petty Officer Dane Adams, contacted you?” he asked, wanting to confirm facts before he called the team to action.

  “Yes, that’s his name.” His tension obviously getting through, she pushed herself into a sitting position. “He’s the one who sent me notification of Brandon’s death. He sent a box to Nathan and a letter. Called once to reminisce. It was sad, in a way.”

  “What did the letter say? And what was in the box?”

  “That Brandon was a hero and a good friend. He said the box held some medals and some of Brandon’s stuff. He figured Nathan should have it.” She wet her lips, her brow furrowed with worry. “We never went through the box. Nathan didn’t want to and I was just as happy to go back to pretending Brandon didn’t exist.”

  “Where’s the box? The stuff he sent? I never saw anything connected to Ramsey at your place.”

  He didn’t say that he’d searched her house. From the dawning anger on her face, he didn’t have to.

  “This guy thinks Brandon is dead. Just like you did.” She took a deep breath. “Isn’t he one of your guys?”

  “He’s one of the support team. He’s Ramsey’s wingman. His best friend.” Even as Diego confirmed that, he was texting instructions, contacting Savino, putting the team on alert. He wanted them ready to move as soon as the plane set down.

  While he sent the messages, he watched Harper. She knew this was a break. He could see the knowledge on her face, the worry in her eyes. And, unfortunately, the self-blame. He couldn’t do much about the latter.

  “We don’t know that Adams is involved,” he told her.

  “You aren’t acting as if you think he isn’t.”

  “Do you remember anything about the box? Where you put it? What you did with the letter? What’d he say in the call?”

  “We only spoke for a couple of minutes. He seemed upset that I wasn’t going to let him meet Nathan, that I had no interest in sharing stories about Brandon.” She met his gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “I shredded the letter into confetti because it made me cry.”

  “And the box?”

  “I didn’t go through the box, but the letter said that it held medals and papers and stuff, things he figured Nathan should have. He wanted Nathan to know what a hero his father was.” Her laugh was a puff of air, humorless and filled with pain.

  “Some hero, right?” she said, her head falling back against the metal bulkhead.

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know. I was so distracted with Nathan going to camp, so enamored with you, that I honestly forgot about it. All I know was that Nathan didn’t want it. He believes in real heroes. To Nathan, Brandon didn’t qualify.”

  * * *

  LIKE A CAT, Andi curled in the comfortable corner of Harper’s kitchen banquette, watching the show. Nerves ran through her, sharp, edgy and demanding, so it was all she could do to stay still.

  But still she remained. Because she saw more that way. Andi’s eyes shifted from here to there, her fingers tapping on the table while her mind raced.

  She’d heard of the SEALs. Who hadn’t? But these guys seemed like more.

  She’d never watched a military operation, so it was hard to know if this was normal. The Navy had taken over Harper’s house. Two men had commandeered Harper’s office, one of whom looked like he was about to drop dead. The other simply looked pissed. Jared, or MacGyver as his buddies were calling him, seemed to be everywhere. The office, upstairs, downstairs and next door. Where, she supposed, they were still playing covert games, since some of the men moved between this house and the one next door through the backyards instead of the front door. Poor Nathan. He was such a brave little boy but he must be scared. Andi caught her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down until she was sure she’d battled back the tears.

  Of course, Jared chose that moment to walk in.

  “You okay?”

  Giving herself a second to dab her finger under her eyes and take a fortifying breath, Andi pulled on her most regal expression.

  “Fine, thank you.” She pointed through the window toward the house next door. “So what’s the deal? Does your kind hide out of habit? Or do you need a reason for sneaking around?”

  Jared bared his teeth in a smile of sorts, then, as if dismissing her, walked over to the fridge. But Andi could see the awareness in his eyes, the discomfort in his stiff carriage and, unfortunately, the worry in the set of his chin.

  “We’re not spies. We don’t hide. We don’t sneak.”

  And
you don’t look so good, she thought. But she kept that opinion to herself. Andi pursed her lips and looked a little closer.

  He wrenched off the cap of a bottle of water, chugging it dry, then twisting the plastic into a knot. His face was drawn, skin pale and those pretty blue eyes of his were bloodshot. With worry, she decided, noting the furrowed brow and creases etching his forehead.

  No. He didn’t look good.

  “It must be rough,” she stated, toasting him with her own water, hers being in an etched blue glass with a tasty sprig of mint. “Being called out on such ugly behavior. Tell me, did you get in trouble for carelessly letting a little boy be abducted? Or, like lying, is that just business as usual in your world?”

  “No more than being judgmental and bitchy is business as usual for you.”

  “Touché,” Andi said with a twist of her lips, pretending that his words hadn’t cut.

  But with a hint of the sensitivity she’d found so attractive only recently, he sighed. He rubbed both hands over his face, then gave her an apologetic look.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s been a rough few days. A rough couple of months, truth be told.” He rested his hand on the back of a chair, waited as if for permission.

  Andi tilted her head, figuring he’d take that whichever way he wanted. Apparently what he wanted was to sit because he pulled out the chair, and joined her.

  “Let’s clear the air, okay.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “I don’t use sex. I seek it out. I enjoy it. Hell, I amass it if I can. But I don’t use it.” His expression a study in frustration, he tilted his chair forward, leaning his elbows on the table and pushing his face toward hers. “I didn’t use you.”

  Andi wet her lips. Desire shimmered in her belly, hot and wanting.

  “Please, you are a professional liar,” she replied with a breathy laugh. “Am I supposed to believe the other night meant anything to you?”

  “Did it mean anything to you?” he countered.

  She didn’t know. As much as she wanted to say it had meant nothing, as much as she wished it had meant the world, she simply didn’t know.

  “Truth be told, I’m a professional naval officer. I specialize in computer ops.” Jared snagged the water, toasting her with her own glass. “And you’re a professional socialite. What does that have to do with what happened?”

  “To do with lies? Probably nothing, I suppose.” Andi called on all those socialite skills to keep her voice even and her expression bland.

  “Look, we see ugly stuff. We do ugly stuff. But we never do it for personal gain or for individual profit. We do it to serve our country.”

  Jared shrugged as if that’s just the way it was, but Andi could tell from the expression in his eyes that it mattered to him.

  A part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him and cuddle him close, to soothe that wounded little boy. But like he said, he was deeply enmeshed in ugly stuff. And his priority would always be serving his country.

  As if his words weren’t proof enough, a buzzing sounded. He pulled out his cell phone—the tech was so intricate it appeared as if it could control a space satellite. His frown flashed.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We need to find a box.”

  “What box?”

  “Ad—someone sent Nathan a box,” he told her, correcting whatever he’d originally planned to say. “We have to find it.”

  Andi looked around the kitchen as if whatever it was would jump out at her.

  “Does Harper know where it is?”

  “If she did, I’d have said we need to get it. Not find it.”

  “Didn’t your kind already do a thorough search?” she mocked. But gently, since she couldn’t seem to hold her anger against him.

  “Torres said he searched, but it seems he was a little too distracted to be thorough.” Andi could see the frustrated pain in his eyes, in the hand he swept over his face.

  “Do you resent him falling in love?”

  “Does that word make you feel better?”

  God, no. She had no faith in the idea of love. Andi only shrugged. And she was grateful when, instead of saying more, Jared got to his feet.

  “We need to find it. The box, or whatever was in it.” He looked around as if baffled where to begin his search.

  “Did you know I lived here for two years?” She rose, sliding her feet into the delicate leather of her sandals before crossing the kitchen. She started with the built-in desk, opening one drawer after the other, sorting papers as she went. She only made it to the third before her light was blocked by Jared’s shadow.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking.” She arched her brow. “Weren’t those your orders? Your superior told you to find the box.”

  “First, they were my orders. Second, Torres isn’t my superior. Third, a box is a contained cardboard form, not a bunch of scattered papers.”

  She pursed her lips, wondering if she liked this side of him. The totally sober side.

  “First, orders are orders as far as I can tell. Second, my impression from the man who is your superior was that Diego is in charge of this mission, which makes him the boss of you. And third, you guys are idiots.”

  His grab wasn’t unexpected, but Andi didn’t sidestep. Instead she used the move to pull him closer, enjoying the feel of her body rubbing against his. She liked the way the heat flashed, almost as strong as the irritation darkening his eyes.

  “You want to try me again?” she murmured, her gaze sliding over his mouth. “Want to see what it’s like now that I know what you are?”

  “You want to try me again?” If there’d been any more cynicism in his tone, it would have dropped on her bare toes. “You like the idea of doing it with a SEAL? Got a thing for a guy in uniform?”

  Andi’s laugh was pure disdain. Luckily he didn’t know that the heat in her belly was pure desire. A fact she planned to keep to herself until she’d decided what she wanted to do about it. She wasn’t about to reward Jared’s bullshit with hot sex.

  But she really did want that hot sex.

  Then Jared backed her up against the wall, his hands flat on either side of her head. His body angled into hers, heating, tempting, but not touching.

  Not quite.

  He’d take her if she let him. He’d pull her to the floor or drag her upstairs. He’d make her scream with pleasure.

  If she let him.

  Andi knew it was up to her. She hated that he was forcing her to choose. Forcing her to take responsibility. But this was Harper they were talking about.

  This was Nathan.

  For them, Andi shifted away, ducking under Jared’s arm with a shrug. “Harper didn’t put the box away, and she didn’t unpack it. She set it aside to go through with Nathan. If Harper doesn’t know where it is, if Diego searched the house and didn’t see it, it’s because Nathan did something with it.”

  Frustration flashed in his eyes for a brief moment. He frowned at the desk, then looked around the kitchen.

  “Then let’s think like a kid. Let’s find it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “YOU THINK ADAMS is in on it with Ramsey?” Diego asked the minute he walked into their Temp HQ. “Or is he behind it?”

  “That’s what we have to find out,” Lansky said.

  Diego grimaced, his face a study of frustration. “Did Savino head back to base already?”

  “Ten minutes ago,” Prescott confirmed. “He’s pissed. Adams is supposed to be SIQ but nobody can find him. Savino’s ordered the MPs to start a search in case Adams went out for Pepto Bismol or something.”

  “Sick in quarters, my ass,” Lansky muttered, his fingers flying over the computer keyboard. “That’ll be AWOL if they don’t find him by the time
Savino gets there.”

  “Did you find anything in that box of crap he sent Nathan?” Diego asked next, starting his own sift through the contents spread over the desk. It was like a shrine-in-a-box. Same feel, different size as what he’d seen at Ramsey’s mother’s house. “You found this in the coat closet?”

  “Found it in a duffle belonging to some kid named Jeremy,” Lansky confirmed. “We went through it piece by piece. Didn’t see any encryption, no coded messages, nothing.”

  Impatience was a ripple in the air, easily identified and mutually felt by all the men in the room.

  Fifteen minutes later, Diego had to admit he wasn’t finding anything, either. Frustration wrapped so tight it felt like it was squeezing him dry, he started pulling the photos out of the album sleeves, arranging and rearranging them on the desk.

  “Where is this place? The place on the lake. There are a few shots of Ramsey and Adams here. Do either of them own lakeside property?”

  “Neither of them appear to own any property under their real names,” Lansky said. Even as he shook his head, he pulled up their files again to double check.

  “They aren’t all taken on the same trip. These are over a few years’ time.” Diego glanced at Prescott, who was sprawled in one of Harper’s fancy office chairs, looking as if his full attention was on the sketch he was drawing. But Diego knew he was hearing every word. “You hung out with them. Do you have any idea where this is?”

  Prescott tossed aside the pad and pencil, the image of an evil genie with Ramsey’s head landing faceup on the couch next to him. It took him a lot longer than it should have to push to his feet, his movements painful to watch as he tried to work past the stiffness of his muscles and the lack of cooperation from his injured leg. Diego didn’t let his concern show, though. He simply stood there, expressionless, waiting for Prescott to take the photo.

  “I never went camping with Adams or Ramsey, never went anywhere off base with them.” His face anguished, either from his injury or facing the ugly facts. “I thought we were friends. But I guess not.”

  Diego debated various options to soothe or comfort. But soothing and comforting weren’t his job. Finding the traitor and saving the kid were. And his gut said that this lakeside locale was key to doing just that.