Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “Are you staying here?” Sam asked Asher, peering at him over her shoulder.

  “Nah, I have shit to do.”

  “And by ‘shit,’ you mean covert stuff for the president?”

  He stroked his beard and looked at Owen, a warning in his eyes: don’t tell her anything else.

  The lines were becoming murky, and today, he was beginning to wonder which side they were even on. How could he be working for a country that allowed traitorous murderers to live?

  Owen eyed the chair alongside Sam and hesitantly dropped down next to her. He hated the first thing he noticed was her smell. No perfume—just the orange-scented soap they’d scrubbed on each other not even an hour earlier.

  He glared at the second laptop’s blank screen. What in the hell had he been thinking? How could he have had sex with her, especially after what he’d learned in the Oval?

  “Let’s find this guy.” Owen pressed play on the screen.

  “I need to go meet up with the others,” Asher said. “Sorry we can’t bring you with us, Sam, but there will be classified intel there.”

  “I’ll be in touch if we get a hit,” Owen said.

  Asher dug in his pocket and then tossed a cell phone his way. “In case the SOB calls, Luke thought you should hang on to her phone.”

  He gave a quick nod and then focused on the computer screen.

  “Well, should we divide and conquer?” she softly asked once they were alone. Her words were whisper-light, as if she were suddenly holding back tears.

  He leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes. “Sure, but we’re going to need coffee.” He spied the single-server brewer and rose to turn it on.

  “Owen,” she said as the black liquid began to pour a minute later.

  From that one word, he knew a lecture was about to follow. “Not now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “Let’s focus on the cameras.”

  “But we should talk about what happened.”

  He folded his arms. “The sex, you mean? The mistake we made earlier?” If only he were Catholic, like Brad, so he could go to mass and have someone absolve him of his sins. How would he ever shake away the guilt of what he’d done?

  Sam’s lips parted before snapping shut.

  Yeah, that’s what he thought. She wouldn’t want to talk about their total screw-up, either, and he didn’t want to engage in any conversation that involved her trying to convince him to back off from taking down Jason and Brad’s killer—if the guy was still alive.

  Of course, first, he had to get his people back while keeping Sam safe. But after that? It was game on.

  “Let’s just not talk at all, then,” she said, her voice surprisingly deep.

  Armed with two coffees, he strode toward her and handed her one. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He lifted one shoulder and brought the drink to his lips.

  Her long lashes fluttered for a brief moment. An attempt at self-control, maybe? He could well imagine the hot and heavy words she longed to hurl his way. “You’re frustrating.” She focused her gaze back on the screen and set the coffee alongside the keyboard.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  He returned to his seat next to her and checked his desire to inhale that damn orange scent, hating the reminder of soap lathered all over her body. She was squeaky fucking clean now, and all he wanted to do was get her dirty again.

  “I can’t work next to you.” He sprang from his seat, snatched the laptop, and brought it to the bed.

  “What? Do I smell?” She glanced at him as he returned for his coffee.

  “Yeah. That’s the problem.” You always smell so damn good. A moment later, he had his back to the headboard with his legs stretched out. With the computer on his lap, he began scrolling through footage, doing his best not to steal glimpses of Brad’s fiancée.

  Jason and Brad—they were the reason he was currently in that hotel room with Sam. If she hadn’t gotten the photo—if she hadn’t been working for the Intelligence Committee—they may have never run into each other again.

  “You know, your mother sends me an invitation to the gathering for Jason every year.”

  Her words were like whiplash to the spine. “What?” He sat up straight and glowered at the back of her head.

  She didn’t turn to face him. “I’ve never RSVP’d. I never even returned a no, but thanks note. I’m a coward, I guess. She offered to have the celebration-of-life party be for Brad, too.”

  Shit. His mom had never told him that.

  “I assume you go?”

  He shook his head, then realized she still wasn’t facing him. “Not in a few years.”

  Finally, she turned in her chair and gazed at him. “Why not?”

  He faked a laugh. “A couple of years back, I tossed a guy in the cake.” This elicited a smile. He held up a palm to stall her question. “I had a good reason.”

  She lifted a disbelieving brow.

  “The SOB mocked the SEALs.”

  “What could he have said that would be bad enough to get tossed into a cake?”

  “SEALs get hard-ons when they’re killing.”

  Her mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh. Yeah, I’d probably knee him in the groin for that since I wouldn’t be able to throw him.”

  “I don’t know. You look pretty tough to me.” The quick curve of his lips caught him off guard.

  “Well, next time you talk to your mom, could you send her my apology?” With a plea in her eyes, she swallowed and swiveled to face her computer again.

  “You could call her, you know. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

  “Do you guys talk often?”

  “Not as much as she’d like. I’m fairly busy.”

  “Looks like it.”

  He could hear the soft sigh even with her back turned.

  Regroup. Focus.

  He looked back at the screen. Focus.

  After twenty minutes of speeding through footage, he paused the video. “You went into your apartment building with a guy and a woman, but then twenty minutes later, you left alone. Do they live in the building, or did they come with you?” He carried the laptop over to her.

  “That’s my best friend, Emily, and her boyfriend, Blane. I had them over for dinner, but then I got a call from Senator Drake to have a drink to discuss my proposal. So I had to leave them.” A light blush crawled up her cheeks. “Horrible hostess, I know. But Drake was one of the few people I had hoped to get on board.” She brought her lip between her teeth for a brief moment. “Of course, he shot me down, anyway.”

  “So, your friends were alone in your apartment? For how long?”

  She tilted her head. “I don’t like where you’re going with this. Emily is my best friend. Hell, she’s being summoned to the White House as we speak.” She pointed to her cell. “She texted me ten minutes ago, and I didn’t want to bother you—but she’s pretty confused, and I feel like an asshole. Her brother is on a flight back from London because of me.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she was alone with her boyfriend in your apartment. There were no signs of forced entry into your place, or you would’ve noticed. Someone got in using a key.” He cursed under his breath. “I don’t know why we didn’t ask you this before. Shit.” His entire team had been so stunned with the recent turn of events, none of them had thought to ask.

  “What?” She stood and rubbed her forearms.

  “Who has access to your apartment? Who has a key? Who has been alone with your purse and keys? They could have made a copy.”

  “You’d need a key fob to get into the building unless someone buzzed you in.”

  “Those can be easily replicated. Or, hell, anyone could wait near the entrance and slip in behind a person going in.”

  “Okay, point taken. My parents have a key. Emily, and one of my interns because he drops off my dry cleaning.” She held up a palm. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t let my intern do grunt work, but—”

 
He shook his head. “That’s a lot of territory to cover. I need a list of everyone who comes into regular contact with your mom and father, as well as you.” He grabbed a notepad off her desk. “We need to check to see if any of those people ever entered your apartment without you. It’ll be someone who knows your schedule, too.”

  Five minutes later, she handed him a list of names; he snapped a picture of it and texted Jess the photo. “We should focus on Emily and your intern and see when they’ve been in and out of your building while we wait for Jess to look over the list.”

  He eyed his watch. A SEAL Team would be hitting Teteruk’s compound at 7 a.m.—not even eight hours from now. He’d give his left nut to be there. Surely Teteruk was already gone, but still.

  “Tell me about Emily’s boyfriend. How long have they been dating?” He set his laptop back on the desk, and they began looking over footage together.

  “Hm. Maybe four weeks. His name’s Blane Davis. I already did a background check on him, though.”

  He peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Come again?”

  “Emily doesn’t make the best decisions when it comes to guys. So I had my friend Javier look into him.” She innocently lifted her shoulders. “He came up clean, minus a few parking tickets.”

  Shit. That made him like her that much more.

  Maybe she misunderstood his expression because she replied, “What? Wouldn’t you do the same for a friend?”

  “None of my friends date. Well, not until recently.” Not until Luke up and fell in love, on an operation no less.

  “No? Too busy? Too dangerous, given the covert work you do for the president?”

  “I—” Swallowing the retort, he hung his head, and a smile found his lips. “Funny.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She blinked her long lashes a few times.

  “Bat those eyes all you want. I’m not falling for it.”

  She offered a nonchalant shrug. “I guess that’s a dose of truth you can’t deliver, huh?”

  He grumbled and pointed back to the computer, hoping to quiet the sudden onslaught of thoughts that battered his mind—thoughts of his team, of the people he’d lost . . . of what he was giving up for his country. A real home—a woman to love . . . But if Luke could do it, maybe it was possible to find a balance? “Let’s focus,” he said, more so as a command to himself.

  “Are you thinking this deliveryman had someone else plant the bug and camera?”

  “I’m not sure, but we’ll figure it out, and hopefully, soon.” He paused the screen a moment later. “Who’s that?”

  She leaned closer to the computer. “My intern, Phillip. He’s the one who delivers my dry cleaning every Monday morning.”

  He sped up the tape. “Why would it take seven and a half minutes to drop off your clothes?”

  “I, uh . . . don’t know.”

  “Will he be delivering your dry cleaning tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, but there’s no way someone got to him. He was vetted by the FBI to gain clearance to work with my team.”

  “Everyone has a weakness. This game is all about finding and exploiting it.”

  She was quiet for a moment, staring at him. “And what’s your weakness?” Her voice had dipped lower at the question.

  His palms landed on the desk as he gathered his thoughts and tried to slow his pulse, which began to peak. “I think it’s fairly obvious.” He stood and strode to the window, then peeled back the floor-length drapes to view the city he’d spent every waking breath to protect.

  “Your brother?”

  He caught her gaze in the window’s reflection and fought the urge to bow his head and hide his eyes like a coward. “Him.” He paused. “You.”

  Her long fingers drifted to the nape of her neck.

  “Ever since you bumped into me in Mexico, my mind has been all kinds of messed up,” he admitted.

  “I’m guessing learning the truth about Jason didn’t exactly do wonders for you, either.”

  He faced her and crossed his arms, leaning against the window.

  Words were unnecessary.

  He watched as she bunched her hands at her sides and lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. “I was doing fine until that picture showed up.” She faked a laugh. “I mean, I was getting pretty good at appearing to be fine, I should say. I was a hot mess at first after Brad died—with the partying and drinking—but then I redirected my focus on revenge.” Her eyes briefly fell closed. “On justice.”

  When she opened her eyes, he could almost see right through her, to the very core of her being.

  “When my dad became the chairman of the Intelligence Committee, I thought maybe that was my chance. I could use his clout to access classified intel—to find out if there was any news or hope that the terrorist who’d killed Brad and Jason would be taken out.” She gave a half-hearted shrug. “So, I pulled myself together and worked my ass off to land a position with him.”

  And your dad knew the truth, all that time. “That’s why you ditched being a lawyer, huh?”

  “Yeah, at first.” A long sigh left her lips. “But every time I tried to look into the operation, my dad shut me down. So, I started to redirect my attention. I guess it was unhealthy to have such an obsession over revenge, anyway.”

  The truth about her father was on the edge of his tongue, but Sam had already been through the wringer. Could he really deliver the blow right now? Maybe he was beginning to understand why she’d kept her identity hidden from him for so long.

  “Anyway,” she said, tipping up one shoulder, “I started traveling and visiting areas hard-hit by war, and it made me realize I had to move on. Other people needed me.”

  He knew how that felt, but doing it was easier said than done. “And then you got the picture.”

  She gave a slight nod. “And it blew my glass world to pieces,” she said, her voice a mere whisper of sound.

  He wasn’t going to tell her about her dad right now. Instead, he took a breath—and a chance. “I was always the adventurous one. My brother was the book-smart kid who stayed out of trouble. And when he told me he was going to try and make it into the SEALs, I honestly didn’t believe him. I thought he was trying to prove something to me. He was the older one, so he was ‘supposed’ to be the tough guy. Maybe he thought he had to look out for me.” He shook his head. “But he needed someone to look out for him, too.”

  “You couldn’t have saved him.”

  His gaze pierced right through her. He was actually talking about his brother. He never did this. Not with the shrinks. Not with his friends. Not with anyone. And yet . . .

  “I thought if I joined the Teams, I’d be able to get justice for him. Sort of like you, I guess.”

  Maybe they had more in common than they’d realized—way more than what they’d discovered during their flirty rapid-fire questions down in Mexico, which felt like ages ago.

  “Some similarities,” she admitted. “Only you went into combat zones to fight, and I went to war-torn countries once the dust had settled.”

  He offered her a fleeting grin. “Not so much at first. Flying hawks and jets wasn’t enough. I needed to be on the ground in case the green light ever came to catch Jason and Brad’s killer. I needed to be one of the guys called in to take down the terrorist.”

  The quiver in her bottom lip gave him pause. His eyes remained focused on her mouth for a long moment.

  “I gave Jason a hard time when he was in BUD/S, but in truth, I was worried about him. Worried about him going to war. And damn, when I joined I almost missed the cut-off age—I was the one who barely made it.”

  “I have a hard time believing that.”

  “I’m just lucky.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been the lucky one. But I wish I could’ve given all of my luck to him.” An unfamiliar lump of emotion gathered in his throat. “I’d trade my life for his in a heartbeat.”

  “Of course you would.” She took a hesitant step his way. “That’s the kind of man you
are.” Her palm rested over his heart, which began to pound harder. “The kind of man I’d expect you to be.”

  He tried to shake off her words, but she lightly tapped at his chest. “Jason would be proud of the man you are.” Her voice shook, and then he realized something inside of him was shaking, too.

  “I was flying when he died. I was in the air, and I know it sounds strange—but damn, it was like I could feel him pass through me—going up.” He wasn’t sure if he believed in the afterlife, but he also hated the idea of there just being nothing, which would mean his brother was truly gone. “When I landed, I was told he’d died.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  A hardness in his chest had him gasping for breath, and then she did something . . . something that had him locking his biceps tight at his sides.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

  He wouldn’t cry.

  He was a thirty-seven-year-old man.

  He was a SEAL.

  But fuck if his chest didn’t hurt.

  He scooped his hands free of his pockets and pulled her even tighter against him.

  “You’re supposed to hate me,” she said through a broken laugh a few minutes later when she pulled back and swiped at her cheeks.

  “Yeah.” He nodded and found her eyes, his palm cupping her face. “But you’re making it really hard.”

  “They tossed the place, but someone had already got to him.” Jess’s words took Owen’s breath away.

  “Any blood? Sign of a struggle?” He rose from his seat and cupped his mouth, as the possibilities raced through his mind.

  He wanted Teteruk to live.

  He needed him to still be alive.

  Then, he could kill the bastard himself.

  “Yeah. Hard to tell when his compound was hit, but the SEAL Team guesses he’s been gone at least a week. Four guys, eight days ago, bought one-way tickets from Russia to Georgia and then rented a car. The ID used to rent it was bogus, and the plane tickets must’ve been under aliases. We think they took Teteruk and then drove him over the border and into Russia.”