Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “And where does Will Hobbs fit in with all of this?”

  “He’ll be our only point of contact, the one to alert us to a mission.”

  Luke thought about everything carefully, but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to leave his platoon, but the idea of his sister getting hurt had his stomach wrenching.

  “There’s an important caveat . . . if an op goes south—”

  “The government doesn’t know us,” he finished. “We’re on our own.”

  She gave a hesitant nod. “So, what do you think?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “How’d you move up so quickly in the agency? You must be damn good if Will came to you with this idea.”

  A smile lit her face as she pointed a finger at her chest. “Came to me?” She playfully rolled her eyes, her blues softening. “I’m the brains behind this.”

  “And you really want to give up your cushy CIA gig to do this deep-cover stuff?”

  She chuckled and swatted at his arm. “‘Cushy’ my ass. I’ve been holed up in barracks not much different than yours these past several years.”

  His eyes narrowed even though a slight smile tugged at his lips. “How the hell did you pull the wool over my eyes all these years?”

  “My boss thought it’d be dangerous for you to know the truth in case I ever needed an extract. He was worried you’d, literally or figuratively, jump ship to save me.”

  “And Will seems to have a similar idea about me.”

  “What would you have really done if you thought I’d been kidnapped?” she asked.

  “I guess you’ll never know because I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Does that mean you’re in?”

  “You think I’m going to let someone else take point on this, with you at the helm? No damn way. I’ve got your back, sis. As always.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. You need to jump through a few more hoops for Will, but I promise you won’t regret this.”

  Chapter One

  Istanbul

  Five Years Later

  “I’m beginning to regret this gig. Maybe I ought to start a normal life.” Luke kept his voice low as he walked through the bazaar. The place was like a maze, and despite having his people on comms to help him make the right turns, today he felt like Alice after she went down the rabbit hole. He was in a tourist Wonderland with signs pointing every which way, making him dizzy.

  “Give me a break,” Jessica sputtered through the earpiece. “I know you don’t like malls, but come on; you don’t even know the word normal.”

  The Grand Bazaar may have been one of the first malls in the world, but damn, it was just too much. Most of it was enclosed and gave off the vibe of a cave. The bazaar covered over sixty streets and had more than four thousand stores. Heaven for shoppers, and hell for a SEAL.

  The place made him itchy: the buzzing of voices, the people jamming up near him from left and right as they bargained with shopkeepers as he passed. Too many people meant he could be taken out easily by a sniper, or lose his target.

  “American, yes? Can I interest you in this gorgeous handmade carpet?” a Turk asked as he slowed near one of the storefronts.

  Luke was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt with BIG APPLE printed on it, and cowboy boots. Between his wardrobe, blue eyes, and a complexion lighter than most Turks’, he may as well have been wearing a MADE IN THE USA stamp on his forehead.

  It was one of the few times in his life he wanted to be identified as an American in a foreign country.

  “No, thanks,” he said, checking his impulse to answer in the native language.

  In the SEALs, if you didn’t know something you had to learn it. Preparation was vital to survival. And the black ops group he now co-led, which was so secretive it didn’t even have an official name, was no different. He required more knowledge because he didn’t have the entire government working behind the scenes.

  “There’s a military-aged male about a half klick away from you.” His crew member Owen’s voice came through the line. “I’m going to move in closer to confirm the target,” he said. “Keep past the rugs and swing a right once you see the belly dance skirts.”

  “Copy that,” Luke said.

  “The target has stopped moving, and he’s talking to another military-aged male. I’m uploading the images to my program for facial recognition, but by sight, it appears to be Ender Yilmaz,” Jessica said a few minutes later.

  “He’s a hundred yards up on your right. You got him in your sights?” Owen asked.

  Luke spotted the target up ahead. “I’ve got him.”

  “Make sure he sees you,” Jessica directed.

  “Roger that, boss lady.”

  Ender was about five feet ten, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a trimmed beard. His face had been a permanent imprint in Luke’s mind ever since the prick shot him in the arm three weeks ago.

  Luke slowed as he neared Ender, trying to ensure eye contact.

  Look at me, motherfucker. A second later, the target lifted his head and locked onto Luke, recognition dawning on him.

  Luke walked past him, his eyes remaining connected with Ender’s, and then he purposely increased his pace, breaking into a fast walk, appearing as if he wanted to escape. “Is he following me yet?”

  “Yup. He’s hanging back, but you’ve been marked,” Owen answered.

  Luke exited the bazaar, following the signs to find his way to the street. “Heading for the car.”

  A few minutes later, Luke arrived at his rental. Once inside the little blue sedan, he shifted his rearview mirror and watched Ender hop inside a taxi behind him. “He’s tracking me.”

  “Perfect,” Jessica said into his ear.

  Chapter Two

  Why isn’t he responding? Shit. Eva refreshed her email a few more times, but no new messages appeared.

  She put her phone in her back jeans pocket right as the director yelled, “That’s a wrap!”

  They never finished shooting four days ahead of schedule; they were always a week behind, which currently left her with a dilemma.

  After filming, she’d planned on leaving Manhattan and heading to her place in the Adirondacks to get some writing done. With this unexpected extra time, she wanted to head there now.

  But she couldn’t, could she? Well, not unless Travis Davenport replied to her email that begged him to change the terms of their agreement.

  She’d rented out one of her cabins in the mountains to make some side money, but that wasn’t the actual issue. No, it was the fact that the guy had demanded that her other cabin on the 100 acres of land she owned remain unoccupied.

  And had he not offered to pay five times her booking fee, she’d have told him hell, no.

  Given her profession as a screenplay writer, her overactive imagination had her creating about a hundred different scenarios as to why this man would want the land to himself.

  She’d run a thorough background check on him, and Travis appeared fairly boring: a businessman from North Carolina.

  Normal-looking guy. Normal job. Normal everything.

  Almost too normal.

  She should’ve said no, and then she could be heading up to her place now.

  Damn it.

  She’d spent the last month dreaming about her vacation; she was itching to move her fingers over a keyboard and finish her screenplay.

  And now, she even had four extra days.

  Four days of solitude to write.

  As much as she craved a break to work on her script, she still loved her current job.

  Being a screenplay writer and a co-producer for a hot drama that had already secured two more seasons on one of the primetime networks—it was a dream position, and she’d worked her ass off to land her current role.

  “You guys killed it.” Eva waved a hand in the air to fan away the smoke still settling from the last scene, then directed her attention to her best friend, heading her way.

 
“Are you thinking about your script?” Jayme asked.

  “How’d you know?” Eva snatched a pink frosted donut off the table near the director’s chair as more of the crew streamed past them and toward the exit.

  “You always have that constipated look on your face when you’re stressing about it.”

  Eva cracked up. “Oh my God, I do not.”

  Jayme grinned. “So, I take it you haven’t finished.”

  “No, I keep rewriting it. It’ll never be good enough to pitch at this rate.” She bit into her donut. Maybe if I have those extra days.

  Jayme eyed the dessert like it was a hot guy with a six-pack, standing, sweaty and naked, in her living room. God, Eva would give anything for that vision to actually be waiting in her loft when she got home later.

  Who am I kidding? I’d run out screaming and calling 911.

  “Well, we have three weeks off before we start shooting again. Why don’t you use that time to work?”

  “I have plans to write when I go to my place at Lake Placid, but I—”

  “Just pitch it to your dad,” Jayme interrupted. “Stop being so crazy, and give him the script.”

  Eva shook her head and polished off the rest of her donut, relishing the sweet taste that kicked in the back of her throat.

  One of the perks of being behind the scenes and unknown, unlike Jayme, meant she didn’t have to live on salad. Carbs were her best friend, and how could one survive without her BFF?

  “I’m not putting my real name on it. Dad doesn’t even know I’m trying to make a play for Hollywood, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Jayme’s eyes tightened, determination competing with the Botox injections in her forehead. She’d been on Eva for months about this issue, ever since Jayme discovered her true identity.

  It’d been hard keeping the truth from her, but once Eva’s brother showed up at her door to surprise her for her thirtieth birthday—it’d been game over. Everyone in the film industry knew Harrison Reed, and Jayme had practically fainted in her dangerously tall heels, nearly collapsing right into his arms that night.

  “Only you would do this, you know. Anyone else would kill to be the daughter of an iconic director. And don’t get me started on the rest of your family, especially”—she looked around—“Harrison.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know who I am, or that I’m working in the industry.” Aside from making money from renting the cabins her parents had sold to her as “Eva Sharp,” she didn’t take a dime from her wealthy family. The Reeds were to Hollywood what the Kennedys were to D.C., minus the tragedies.

  “No one earns anything anymore. It’s all about who you know. And you know everyone.”

  Eva’s lips pinched together as her eyes journeyed the room, taking in the remaining crew. “So, what will you do with your time off?” she asked, hoping to deflect.

  “Nope, you’re not getting off so easy.” Jayme smoothed a hand through the air with dramatic flair. “Picture this: Everly Reed, Oscar-winning—”

  Eva puckered her face like she’d eaten something sour. “Shhh.”

  “You’re so damn stubborn. If I didn’t love you like a sister I’d probably rat you out.”

  “You just want to stay in my good graces so you can get cozy with Harrison. The way you swooned over him that night . . . please, woman. You think I don’t know you have the hots for him.”

  “And who doesn’t?” She laughed.

  “True.” They grabbed their coats and purses and left the studio, following the last few people out. “So, where are you spending your time off?”

  “Probably on a beach. I don’t know. I might throw a dart at the map and see where life takes me.”

  “I wish I could be like you.” Eva smiled.

  “So, come with me.” Jayme stopped walking once out on the street and faced her. “We’ll have a girls’ trip. I’ll get a few of us together, and we can get out of this cold weather and have hot guys serve us mojitos.”

  “As tempting as that sounds—”

  “You have a script to finish. A script that’ll end up in the junk pile unless you put your real name on it.”

  “I shouldn’t have such an unfair advantage.”

  Jayme looked up at the cloudy sky, rolling her tongue over her white teeth. “Don’t the rumors bother you? I’d lose my shit about some of the things people have said about you. I mean, about the former you.”

  Eva stepped out of the way of the foot traffic and leaned against the exterior of their usual coffee shop. “I don’t care about that, but what I do care about is going to my cabin.”

  “Uh, okay—and that means, what exactly?”

  “It means I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to the mountains tonight, whether Travis wants me there or not. There’s enough room for the both of us.” And maybe he won’t even know I’m there. I can be invisible.

  “Who the hell is Travis?”

  Travis’s text came too late. Eva was a few minutes from the cabin and had no intention of turning back.

  As the taxi driver made the last sharp turn before entering the final road, his message popped up on her phone: You can’t come. That’s not the deal we made. This is non-negotiable.

  She reminded herself he was a businessman, and so maybe that’s how business people talked.

  “Too late,” she whispered under her breath and stowed her phone back into her purse.

  “What?” the cab driver asked.

  She smiled and adjusted her black-rimmed glasses. “Talking to myself. Sorry.” She clutched her purse against her puffy winter jacket, her pulse quickening when they neared the home.

  Maybe the renter wouldn’t notice her, anyway. The cabins were several acres apart, and the snow would be falling soon, reducing visibility.

  “It’s going to storm pretty bad. You sure you’re going to be okay at this place all alone?”

  His eyes caught hers in the rearview mirror and a sudden barrage of Tweets played out in her mind: Taxi driver attacks woman staying alone in the woods during a freak blizzard. Woman turns out to be part of the Hollywood Reed family. She’s lied for years about her true identity. Why? What horrible secrets is she hiding?

  People would be disappointed to discover that her life was uneventful, plain, and super boring—well, compared to her siblings’ at least.

  “I won’t be alone,” Eva lied and nearly choked on the words as they rushed from her mouth.

  He nodded and returned his attention to the drive. “You have food and everything if you get snowed in?”

  A couple of days ago, she’d had her cabin stocked by the manager who looked after her place. “Uh, yeah,” she answered as they rolled up the driveway.

  She eyed the two-story red cedar home. Memories from her youth raced to mind—the few peaceful moments in life when her family escaped to the cabins for a little R&R with no cameras in sight. They hadn’t come as a family since her parents split over two decades ago, but the memories hadn’t faded with time, even though the vacations had been rare blips in her normally chaotic Hollywood childhood.

  Her younger brother playing guitar on the porch swing.

  Her sisters swimming in the lake and dancing on the dock with her.

  And, of course, Harrison, sneaking off with every pretty girl with a pulse this side of the mountain.

  A soft sigh left her lips as she swallowed the past and let it simmer once again in the corner pocket of her mind.

  Once inside the place, the smell of roasted hazelnuts flooded her nostrils as she dropped her bags inside. Nice touch on the manager’s part.

  A lick of worry darted down her back as she thought about her current tenant and neighbor. What if Travis, aka Normal Guy, had a scope or binoculars and spotted her?

  She hurriedly closed all of the blinds before plopping down on the brown suede couch in front of the massive stone fireplace.

  The flight out of the city had been short, but the drive from the airport to Lake Placid had taken her longer tha
n expected. The night sky would be dropping down like a movie curtain within a few hours.

  The land Eva owned had a view of the lake, but her love for the place had more to do with her memories and the breadth of solitude it could give her.

  But was she crazy to be alone in the mountains, especially with some guy so close by, demanding “alone time”? Just because his background check cleared didn’t mean he wasn’t some crazy killer. Everyone was normal until they suddenly weren’t . . .

  “I’ve got to shut off my brain,” she said as a cold bluster of air moved down her spine.

  Maybe drinks on the beach with Jayme would’ve been a better idea. Before she could close her eyes, a sudden banging had her startling upright to her feet.

  “We need to talk,” a voice sounded from outside, followed by another hard tap that shook the door.

  “Shit.” Normal Guy?

  “I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

  Yeah, sure. Is he insane? Her heartbeat took a panicky climb. “Who is it?”

  “Travis Davenport.”

  “I just got your text. Sorry.” She approached the door, trying not to trip over furniture on her way through the dimly lit room.

  I’m going to die in the woods because I’m a moron.

  “You need to go before the storm hits,” he said, his voice a little calmer now. But damn, it was still deep and laced with something else—a gruff sexiness she hadn’t expected from Normal Guy.

  Sexy could still be dangerous. Probably even more so.

  “Can you open up?”

  Both palms went to the door as her heart ticked up to the speeds of an Indy racecar driver. “Can you slide your ID under?”

  “I don’t have it on me.”

  Of course, you don’t. “Yeah, and how do I know it’s really you then?” She stole a quick look behind her, wondering if her father’s gun was still in the safe upstairs. He came to the place once or twice a year when he wanted to escape the public eye. Since the land was no longer registered under the Reed name, it was the perfect destination for someone in need of hiding.