Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “So, are you thinking about letting me go at some point?”

  He smiled and released his hold, but then reached for her hand and guided her to a seating area.

  “I’m probably not going to drink champagne right now,” she said while eying the uncorked bottle on ice. “But the cheese and crackers look perfect.”

  “Yeah, I’m in the same boat,” he deadpanned, and it had her cracking another broad smile as he helped her take a seat.

  “Do you know much about boats?” She dropped her head back to feel the rays of the sun pour over her, hoping it’d cleanse her of her sins.

  “A little.”

  Why’d I ask that? She couldn’t keep up the act of being ignorant about who he was for much longer, and any more questions like that would only make it worse. She also couldn’t bring herself to spill the truth. Not yet, at least.

  But—she was running out of time. Someone had sent her that photo for a reason, and she wouldn’t be able to move on until she got to the bottom of it.

  She sat upright as he removed his tee. He crossed his arms and leaned back as if he wanted to bake in the sun as well.

  Of course, the sight of him was much more distracting than the scenery, even if she wasn’t supposed to let her mind wander to thoughts of his body.

  Her fingers skated across her collarbone as she guiltily continued to observe him, noticing the strength of his forearms and the overall hardness of every inch of him.

  “Do you have a swimsuit on under your top?” He interrupted her thoughts, and she jerked her attention back to the ocean and away from his golden body.

  “Um, yeah.” She lifted the hem of her halter and peeled it off. He’d already seen her naked, so what was the big deal about a bikini top?

  “So, tell me the craziest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “Sleep naked with you,” she blurted, which had him looking her way. “But I’m betting my crazy is like a standard day for you.”

  He laughed. “Favorite childhood memory?”

  “Are we playing rapid questions again?”

  “I’m trying to learn more about you.”

  “Well, whatever perception you already have of me is probably pretty off base. I wasn’t exactly myself last night.”

  “So, who are you really, then?”

  Good question. But the words dried up in her throat, and she reached for a bottle of water from the cooler at her feet to buy time. “I’m the daughter of a senator. I work with my dad.”

  “Hm. And this means what, exactly?”

  She wished she could see his eyes, but then again, she’d probably simply get lost in the color. “It means I have a certain reputation I’m supposed to maintain.”

  “And getting drunk and naked with a stranger isn’t on the list of things to do, huh?” His arm fell between them, and his fingers drummed the faded blue material of the seat.

  “Not exactly.” Lying again. Great. “But my dad acts like I have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

  “And do you?” His lips became a line as if he were considering her admission.

  She thought about the benefit next week, and how damn important it was. And yet, here she was . . . “I guess I try.” She half-shrugged and then felt the need to lighten the mood, so she joked, “But I think it’s giving me serious spine problems. Probably should see a chiropractor.”

  He was quiet for a moment, before he asked in a deeper voice, “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She gulped. “But I wish I could change the past.” She had to tell him the truth. She owed it to not only him, but Brad. “Listen, I—”

  The feel of his hand atop hers cut her off. And the way he caressed her skin with the pad of his thumb had her swallowing back every possible word that would kill the moment, a moment she couldn’t possibly have.

  He reached for her glasses with his free hand and removed them. “There’s something in your eyes that tells me you know how I . . .”

  Oh, God. Do you remember? Why didn’t he finish his line of thought?

  He heaved out a deep breath and placed her glasses back on before standing. He moved over to the railing and braced against it, his hair catching in the wind as they sailed, and she stood alongside him.

  She found herself whispering, “I lost someone I cared about when I was younger.” Her stomach roiled as she’d dropped her words into the ocean air. “I still have trouble allowing myself to be happy sometimes.”

  She had wanted to see a therapist back when times had been the toughest, but her father had concerns about it getting leaked to the press—had to maintain the McCarthy image, he’d said.

  “I’ve lost a lot of people in my life.” His mouth tightened as if pain spiraled around every one of his limbs, and he recalled a play-by-play of when someone died.

  Tomorrow was the anniversary of Brad’s and Jason’s deaths. They shared the miserable day, and he didn’t even know it.

  Two hard knocks on the door.

  A man in dress blues.

  A letter in hand.

  A dark, haunted look on his face.

  He’d been the man to deliver her the harshest blow of her life.

  She knew what she’d gotten herself into when falling in love with a man in uniform, though. Well, she thought she had; she’d only been twenty-one when she’d met Brad on a girls’ trip to Charleston with Emily.

  God, her life had turned upside down inside that bar—a bar the guy next to her owned.

  “I was in the military, so . . .” His admission had her turning toward him, her heart heavy for his loss. He’d endured losing a blood brother and brothers in arms.

  She touched his bicep and skirted her fingers north to his shoulder before he pivoted to face her, capturing her wrist and pressing her palm to his own cheek. “There’s something about you.”

  She kept her hand cupping his cheek with his resting atop hers, and she seized a lungful of air so deep she grew dizzy. “Owen, I . . .” Tell him. And for some reason, the words remained stuck in her throat, weighed down and sludgy. “I’m, uh, starving.” Her glasses hid an exasperated eye roll, and she forced herself to pull away and left his side to sit back down.

  He assumed his previous spot next to her, and they shifted into casual conversation fairly quickly. It shouldn’t have been so easy to talk to him, especially while she kept the truth about why she was there hidden from him—but it was.

  He caught her by surprise when he paused their conversation about sailing and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He closed his eyes and took in a breath. “You smell different every time we’re together. I never know what I’m going to get with you.” His eyelids lifted. “Jasmine?”

  She smiled. “And how do you know so much about fragrances?”

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me why you wear so many different ones.” The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips, slightly pulling her bottom one down, which had her breath catching.

  “I, um.” She blinked, searching for the words. “Some people have mood rings. I have mood fragrances.”

  “And what is your mood today?”

  “Confused,” she whispered and brought her face closer to his.

  He lifted his brow and smiled. “Not sure that’s a mood.”

  She pulled away and lost his touch. She’d fallen back into the spell of Owen York, yet again. “So, do you have a special nose that affords you the ability to detect types of perfume?”

  “It’s a secret skill.”

  “You have to tell me.” She poked him in the ribs, hating that she wanted to do much more than that.

  He raised his palms in surrender. “My mom used to have a little shop in our town. She’d create her own special perfumes and sell them there.” He tipped his head in the direction of the sun. “She had a lab, which of course, seemed badass to me.”

  “Oh my God, that’s precious.”

  He shrugged. “She used to test me on the fragr
ances. I can basically identify every smell by nose. It’s like second nature to me now, but I bet you could do it, too.”

  “I doubt that.”

  His hand met her thigh. “Try it. Shut your eyes. Tell me what you think.”

  There was so much she needed to tell him, but . . . Her eyes dropped closed, and she gathered in a deep breath, trying to focus. “Hm.” She scooted closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, sitting taller to get closer to his neck. “Woodsy. Like freshly sanded floors.” She laughed a little. “No, no.” She opened her eyes. “Sandalwood. Maybe cedar wood?”

  He nodded. “Not bad.”

  She wet her lips and took in another whiff. “Simple, not too strong.” She swallowed. “Raw.”

  His hand dove through her hair, and he cupped the back of her head as she tipped up her chin.

  “We’re here,” the captain announced.

  “Wow.” She stood, catching sight of El Arco. “It’s beautiful.” They slowed near the famous arch, a distinct rock formation. The towering gray rocks had been created by wind and water as if touched by the hand of God. “Majestic.” Her fingertips went to her lips, and when she looked at Owen, he was observing her instead of the arch.

  She swallowed the desire swirling inside and glanced over at the captain who was motioning their way. “Waters are too dangerous to swim in, but there’s a great sea lion colony up ahead. Taking you now,” the captain said.

  “Will you come with me into the city tonight?” Owen’s question pulled her focus back to him as he stood alongside her now. “If you don’t want to dance, we could grab dinner.”

  And for a beat, it was as if she felt a little less fractured than normal, as if his presence somehow could help crush her pain. “I’d like to come, but first, I need to—”

  He bent his head and kissed her, stealing the truth from her lips, allowing the lie to live.

  And she gave in.

  He gathered her into his arms and held her like they’d been kissing like this their entire lives.

  He felt like home, but how was that possible?

  She’d lost her sense of home the day Brad died.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging at it to guide her even closer to him as their tongues twined between quick, hungry kisses.

  His fingers trailed down her spine, and a rush of excitement had her knees buckling. “Sam,” he murmured and tipped her head back to kiss her neck.

  She wanted to cry when his hand slipped beneath her bikini top, and he pinched her nipple. “Where’s the captain?”

  “Hopefully steering.” His warm breath at her ear had her mewling.

  Hot lust crept beneath her lids, and the thought of being tangled with this man beneath the sheets had her biting her fingertips into his biceps, and she clutched him as if he were a lifeline and she was about to go overboard.

  “What if the,” she asked between kisses, “captain’s watching us?”

  He pinched her again, and she wanted to cry as desire swelled inside of her.

  “Then, I guess he’s gonna get a massive hard-on.”

  She smiled against his mouth, and for some reason being wrapped in the arms of this man, off the coast of Los Cabos, had her feeling free. Free of the chains that had claimed her for years. Self-imposed, but confining nevertheless.

  “I—” A frustrated groan touched her lips, and he pulled back, which was like a knife of reason to the heart. “Sorry. My work phone’s vibrating.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “You have great reception.”

  “Unfortunately,” he said with a lift of his shoulders after he’d stepped back and retrieved his phone. “Give me a sec.”

  “Sure.” She glanced at the captain from over her shoulder, and he had an easy and knowing smile on his face. Of course, he’d probably witnessed much more sinful acts on his boat than a kiss.

  But it wasn’t an innocent kiss.

  It was an unforgivable one—one that she couldn’t blame on alcohol.

  She looked over at Owen, his face drawn tight. Hard. Resolute.

  He started for the captain, swirling a finger in a circular motion in the air.

  “Everything okay?” she asked while putting her halter top back on after he’d ended the call.

  Owen stood before her and rubbed his thumb in a circle over her cheek. “I have to go.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s a work thing.” His hand fell to his side, and he averted his gaze to the water for a brief moment as the boat made a U-turn. “I’m heading to D.C., though. Maybe I’ll run into you while I’m there?”

  Hope flickered in her chest and warmed her cheeks. She’d have a second chance to tell him the truth—to ask him for help. She’d nearly forgotten why she’d come, and she had to get her head back into the game.

  “I’d like that.” She nodded. “I’m, uh, heading back tomorrow morning.”

  “Short trip.”

  “Yeah, it was a last-minute decision to come here.” She didn’t want to add fuel to the fire of her lie, so she kept her words short. “And I leave for Russia Tuesday.”

  “Why are you going to Russia?”

  “I, uh—it’s an event to encourage bilateral talks between heads of state about the current situation on the border zone between Russia and Ukraine,” she rushed out the mouthful.

  “Wow.” He grinned. “You sound important.”

  She almost laughed. “We’re hoping to ease tension over there, and if the region is stable enough then maybe Ukraine can join NATO.”

  “Hm.” He turned to grab his tee. “Isn’t Russia against having NATO so close to its border?”

  She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her with his back to her. “Uh, yeah. But, when I was at the NATO Summit in July, I managed to garner the support of a huge Russian defense company, and they’re actually the ones hosting the event next week.”

  He faced her once his shirt was on. “You keep on impressing me. But I can see why you didn’t want to talk work last night.” He chuckled. “Pretty intense stuff.”

  His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but no sound came out. His eyes thinned, and he angled his head, assessing her. As if remembering her.

  She clutched her stomach with one hand, her fingertips biting into the material as she fished around in her head for what to say.

  “Listen, I’m not normally, um, the kind of guy to . . .” He scratched at the back of his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. “What I mean is that I don’t get involved . . .”

  She almost smiled at how he stumbled through letting her know he didn’t do relationships. “I don’t either.” She hoped to diffuse the awkwardness.

  “You don’t what?” He tipped her chin up with a closed hand.

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second. “Relationships. No time. You know”—she innocently lifted her shoulders—“saving the world and all.” Then she added, “But I’d like to see you while you’re in D.C., maybe before I leave on Tuesday?”

  Not to have sex, of course, which was what he probably assumed.

  The idea of him hating her when the truth was laid out between them nearly shredded her. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t sputter out a quick version of honesty right now.

  No, she needed more time.

  He smiled, his teeth a bright white with the afternoon sun hitting his tan skin. “I’d like that, Sam. A lot.” He bent his head down, and she realized he was going to kiss her again.

  And for some stupid reason, she couldn’t get herself to turn her cheek.

  She let him kiss her goodbye, hoping to hell he’d forgive her the next time he saw her.

  Chapter Five

  “How the hell did you make time to get your hair cut today?” Asher asked when meeting Owen outside their hotel on the street.

  Owen swiped a hand over his much shorter locks. “We’re meeting face-to-face with”—he looked around to see if anyone was in earshot—“the secretary of def
ense. I can’t show up looking grungy. Haven’t seen the man since he nearly vetoed my membership on the team way back when.”

  “Aw, you gotta look pretty for him, then, huh?” Asher knocked him in the bicep before they began down Virginia Avenue, leaving the Washington Monument farther behind them with each passing step. “Looks like you couldn’t lose the facial hair, though.”

  “It’s trimmed.” He slipped on his shades and hid an eye roll. “Apparently, you don’t care how you look.”

  “POTUS could call me into the Oval Office for all I care, and I wouldn’t give a damn if I were in my Sunday best or my briefs, let alone worry about my hair.”

  Owen cracked a smile. “Like you have any ‘Sunday best’ digs, anyway.”

  Asher mumbled something under his breath then said, “Too bad vacay was cut short. You were finally starting to have some fun.”

  Owen peered up at the jet trails in the sky. He needed to remember to clock in some flying hours. “I might call Sam later, though. She said she was coming home today, and since she lives here—”

  “You’re going to see her again?”

  Owen stopped walking and moved off to the side of the foot traffic. “What, you think I shouldn’t?”

  Asher leaned against the exterior of an office building. “I’ve just never known you to see a woman twice.”

  “You talking about me? Or yourself?” Owen flicked his gaze to the reflection in the window, noting a dark Suburban rolling up to the curb behind them. “I think that ride is for us.”

  As much as he hadn’t wanted to leave Sam yesterday, it was always good to be on an op. It helped take his mind off heavy thoughts. He was more than happy to have a reason to dodge his mother’s constant requests to attend Jason’s celebration-of-life party today.

  Jess opened the passenger side door. “Are you guys going to get in, or what?”

  “We could’ve walked,” Asher said. “Slide over, Peaches.”

  Jess ignored him and looked to Owen. “Why don’t you sit in the middle?” She held a palm up, requesting Asher to remain standing, and Owen sidestepped him to scoot inside.