Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “What happened?”

  “I got Teteruk.”

  His words were like a hard blow to the spine. “Is he dead?” she whispered, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I tried to pull the trigger.” His brow creased. “I tried damn hard to kill him.” He tapped at his temple. “But then Jason was in my head.” His voice cracked, and his eyes became a glossy greenish brown. “I wanted to murder the son of a bitch so bad, but . . .” Both hands fisted at his sides now. “I couldn’t do it. I knew Jason wouldn’t want me to, and I couldn’t let him down, you know?” A tear slowly rolled down his cheek.

  She stepped forward, touched his forearm, and looked up into his eyes. “You’re not a killer.”

  He was quiet for a moment, his forehead creased, his body tense. “I thought maybe Teteruk had my ring.” His eyes lowered to the chain around her neck. “Your rosary beads, too. I thought if I got them back, it’d somehow make things right.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t find them, though. I’m so damn sorry.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she wasn’t sure how long she could hold them back. “No, it’s okay,” she whisper-cried.

  His nostrils flared, and he wiped at his face as if embarrassed by the show of emotion. His lower lip trembled, and he touched his chest. “It’s over, so why the hell does it still hurt so much?”

  She shook her head, trying to stay strong. “Because nothing will bring them back.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t bring them back.” He hissed the words as if coming to the realization for the first time. Then, he slowly fell to his knees, and she went with him.

  She held on to his face, touching her forehead to his, and she cried with him.

  For their loss.

  For everything they’d been through.

  “You’re so strong, Owen.” A heaviness filled her chest, moving through her lungs and sweeping down her arms. “But it’s time you let someone in.” She edged back to catch his eyes, still holding his face. “Let me in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You act like you’ve never seen the color purple before.” He flicked his wrist, motioning for her to come closer to his nearly naked body sprawled out atop her bed.

  She clutched a bottle of oil tight in her hands, staring at the bruises that wrapped around his torso and cut straight up his neck.

  The only untouched area of his body was beneath his boxers—thank God for that.

  “What the hell did they do to you?” Tears built up in her eyes again as she sat next to him and poured some of the oil onto her palms.

  He tried to hide a wince when he shifted in the bed to sit up higher. It’d been a couple of hours since he’d shown up at her door, so he supposed it was time to share the truth with her about what had gone down in Russia.

  “Since I couldn’t kill Teteruk, I decided to leave Ukraine and hand him over to the Russians, hoping it could help pave the way for them to accept the president’s apology.”

  She began to massage the oil near his hip bone, and the smell of peppermint flooded his nose.

  He gathered a breath, hoping to hide his discomfort, before speaking again. “When we crossed into Russia, we were both arrested.” He closed his eyes, and another grimace touched his lips.

  She lifted her hands from his body. “And the bruises?”

  “Ironically, it was the Russian version of the Navy SEALs who beat the shit out of me.” He slowly peeled his eyes open. “They wanted me to admit who I really was, but I kept with my story. I was hired as protection for the event, and then I went after Teteruk when I saw him flee.”

  “And they did this to you to try and get you to talk?” Her fingers trembled as they rested upon his abdomen.

  “I think they also took their anger out on me after having learned about what had happened ten years ago.” He tried to shrug it off, but the movement of his shoulders caused a sharp throb of pain in his ribs. A pulse of agony shot down his spine when he took in a breath a moment later. “They’d never be able to break me, though. I’m trained for situations like these.”

  “How’d you get free? I thought the president wouldn’t be able to save you. Luke and Jessica mentioned—”

  “Yeah, well, after they finished treating my body like a piñata, they let me go since we did help save a bunch of Russian bigwigs from dying that night. And actually, the official deal between our countries was only wrapped up on my plane ride back.”

  “I saw on the news this morning about the tariffs in China.” Her fingers slowly caressed his sides, tracing his bruises. “I assume they handed Cheng over to Rydell?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, the president briefed me about it. Everything fell into place like we planned.”

  “Except for you getting taken and tortured.”

  “You nearly dying in Russia—that was unplanned. Anything happening to me is part of the job.”

  She was silent for a moment. “What did Cheng tell the president?”

  “Apparently, when he hacked Russia a few months back, he downloaded files that helped us ID three Russian spies within U.S. agencies.”

  Her mouth rounded in surprise. “Really?”

  “If they let go of the past, in return, they’d get their agents back.”

  “Deals,” she whispered, probably remembering the deal her father had been ordered to make, the one that had started this all. “I think I’m going to quit.”

  “What are you talking about?” Owen cocked his head and held on to her wrist.

  “Gromov said something to me, and—”

  “Don’t begin a sentence with Gromov and expect me to want to hear any more.” He tried to slide his legs over the side of the bed, but a hard gasp left his lips, and he clutched at his side.

  She gestured for him to relax, her eyes scolding him for the movement. “The decisions we make in Washington have such hard-hitting consequences around the world,” she began, her tone somber. “It’s not fair we put guys like you on the line, while blood never touches our hands.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t quit.”

  “How can I not? Look at what Gromov did because of the choices made in D.C.”

  “You can’t quit because I need to know someone like you has our backs. Someone sophisticated and caring. Someone who understands loss and uses emotions to make informed decisions.”

  “How is that a good thing? It’s made me weak and—”

  “No, it hasn’t.” His palms rested at his sides. “You’re anything but weak. Losing Brad, knowing what it’s like to lose someone you love—it’s made you more cautious with the power you wield.” His lips gathered into a slight smile. “And I know it’s you, not so much your father, who has been breaking political ground.”

  His fingertips touched her cheek and swept to her lips as she stared down at him.

  “Okay,” she conceded after a minute in thought. And he knew that, in her heart, she didn’t want to give up her work.

  She started to stand, but he held onto her wrist, never wanting to let go.

  “I have a question, and I want you to take your time and really think about it.”

  Her brown eyes, lighter in the middle and wrapped in a dark chocolate rim, sucked him in; he nearly forgot his words. “Yeah?”

  He released a breath. “Pancakes or waffles?”

  The dimple in her cheek appeared at her smile. “You came all the way from Russia to ask me that?”

  “No, I came all the way from Russia to see you smile.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “That’s good to hear. I’m glad Handlin’s feeling better. Too bad he’ll need to be replaced, but as long as he’s healthy that’s what’s important,” Owen said over the phone. “How are the boys holding up?”

  “Canton, Shaw, and Robins are doing good. Pretty much recovered,” Luke answered.

  Owen scratched at his cheek in thought. “Mentally, though, how are they?” Physical wounds tended to heal a lot faster than the inter
nal ones.

  “I think they’re angrier someone got the drop on them than anything else.”

  “I’m glad we managed to keep their names out of the media. The last thing they needed were microphones shoved down their throats.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Everything else good?” Owen asked, sensing there was another reason for Luke’s call during Owen’s mandatory time off.

  “Yeah, actually. I managed to convince Eva to have a gender reveal party, and before she can change her mind, I’m organizing it for this weekend. Virginia Beach.”

  Owen smiled. “But the baby is due next month.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding a laugh.

  “Yeah, but that still gives me a few weeks to plan,” Luke said. “You think you’re up for meeting a bunch of Hollywood bigshots?”

  “Of course I’ll be there.” Owen looked over his shoulder at Sam exiting her bedroom. Then he stood and went to the window, catching sight of the Washington Monument in the distance.

  “It’s only been two weeks since you got home.”

  “I’m good. Besides, I have to be there when you hear you’re having a girl.”

  Luke cursed under his breath. “Be sure to bring Samantha. Eva’s dying to meet her. She’s excited about having another woman amongst us all.” Luke was quiet for a moment. “You two are still good, right? You haven’t fucked it up?”

  Owen laughed and faced the room. “Trying not to.”

  “Good. See you Saturday.” Luke ended the call, and Owen tossed his cell onto the couch.

  “Luke?” Sam tightened the knot of her silk robe and peered at him beneath long lashes.

  “Yeah. Baby shower this weekend. You want to come?” He looped his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful woman before him who smelled like a damn breath of fresh air.

  “I would love to.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and dragged her gaze south of his face and down his body.

  She took a tentative step toward him as if there was something she wanted to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “What’s wrong?” He cocked his head to the side, trying to get a read on her.

  “Just losing my mind, waiting for the doctor to clear you.” Her eyes landed on his pants, and his cock immediately stirred at the idea of being balls deep inside of her.

  “I’ve rather enjoyed tasting every inch of you,” he said while closing the distance between them, “over the last two weeks.” He touched his stomach. “I feel fine.” The bruises were nearly gone, and the fractured rib healing. “I don’t think we need to wait three more days.”

  His finger swept down the V of her robe, and he palmed her breast, the feel of her hard nipple beneath his touch making his dick even more painfully hard.

  “I don’t want you getting hurt.” Her breath quickened when he reached beneath the robe and parted her thighs.

  “You’re the one who has been hell-bent on making me wait. I don’t give a damn about my injuries. I never did.” He nipped at her bottom lip when her eyes fell closed at his touch. “I’ve wanted to be inside of you the moment I came home.”

  “We should wait.” A throaty moan followed when he slipped a finger inside of her.

  “So, I should stop touching you right now?”

  Her hands landed on his shoulders, and she stared deep into his eyes, worried. “Are you sure you feel okay?”

  She had wrapped her gorgeous mouth around his cock and gotten him off plenty of times in the last week, and he’d given her more orgasms than he could count . . . But damn, he needed to be inside of her.

  He brought his lips to her ear as he stroked her clit. “I think the pain of waiting three more days will be a hell of a lot worse.” He breathed in her beachy scent, like rolling waves and a coconut breeze—a new perfume.

  “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for hurting you.”

  His hard-on strained against his jeans, and he stepped back to unzip them, never taking his eyes off her. Her cheeks blushed, lust warming her, and she unfastened her robe, allowing it to drop, so she stood naked before him.

  He kicked off his jeans and boxers and tore off his shirt. His hand glided up and down his throbbing length as he observed her standing naked with the light coming through the window, splashing onto her body.

  He lunged for her, ready to lift her into his arms, ignoring any last drops of pain, but she turned, squealed and took off toward her room.

  He laughed and chased after her. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  She positioned herself on the bed, her arms resting above her head, and her knees bent, hiding her sweet spot. She was a decadent display of soft femininity, and right now, she was all his.

  Two weeks had gone by, and they hadn’t discussed the future . . . or the past. But they’d spent their mandatory vacation time getting to know everything about each other, and he’d loved every damn second of it.

  The heavy conversations could wait; they deserved a little bit of fun after what they’d been through.

  “How much do you want me?” She sank her teeth into her lip, her gaze skirting down as he stood at the side of the bed, simply watching her, amazed to be here with her.

  The only thing she had on was his necklace—his brother’s necklace. He hadn’t let her remove it; he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted it back.

  He’d figure out what that meant later, though.

  “I’m going to show you just how much.” He slowly crawled on top of the bed and braced himself above her. “I have a feeling I might not last as long as normal.” He was ready to explode just at the idea of filling her.

  He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers and groaned against her full mouth when she captured his cock between her palms. “I don’t want to wait,” she said between quick kisses. “After two weeks of foreplay, I want you inside of me right now.” She guided his tip to her center.

  “Then, by all means . . .” He filled her in one hard thrust, and his head fell forward at the connection, the emotion thickening in the back of his throat.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, holding his eyes. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “Why don’t you want to go to Charleston?” Sam rolled to her side and propped her head up with her hand to face him. “Are you afraid I can’t handle going to your bar?”

  “Where is this coming from?” His gaze dropped to the white tank top she wore, her nipples pressing hard against the fabric. It was probably a bad time to have lust gathering inside of him, considering the conversation he knew they were about to have.

  “We haven’t talked about Brad or Jason since the day you came home.”

  His eyes fell closed, and his mind went back to Russia, back to the waterboarding—to his hands being tied above his head while a guy took a bat to his ribs.

  “If you think I can’t handle going there because I’ll remember Brad and—”

  “No.” He shook his head and forced his eyes open. “I want you to remember Brad. Don’t ever think I’d want you to forget him.” He tensed, not sure how to handle the conversation since he’d never been very good at dealing with emotions. “I’m afraid being there will make you regret being with me,” he said at last, fighting to get the truth out between them.

  She fell back onto her pillow, and her eyes went to the ceiling. It had his heart slamming in his chest, worry stripping his thoughts down to only one—am I right?

  He sat upright, dropped his legs to the other side of the bed, and stood.

  “Owen.” She quickly came to his side as he pulled on his boxers, and she reached for his forearm.

  He stilled beneath her touch, wondering if he’d be going to Luke and Eva’s party solo tonight. “I’m worried you’ll decide it’s a mistake to be with me . . . just as much as I’m scared you’ll want to be with me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His eyes followed her fingertips on his forearm as they maneuvered
up his bicep. “When I was being held,” he slowly began, “my number one concern was making it back to you because I couldn’t handle the idea of you losing someone else.” He let out a hard sigh. “We barely knew each other at the time, but I knew it’d still gut you if I didn’t make it back.”

  She reached for his cheek, and his eyes met hers.

  “Even if we both get over the past, I’m terrified of hurting you, of someday not coming home, like Brad.” He looked over her shoulder toward the light splintering through the partially closed blinds. “That’s why I didn’t want to go to the tavern. I didn’t want to have this conversation.” He turned away, and she released her hold of him. He dragged his palms down his face. “I wasn’t ready to have this chat.”

  “Owen, I—”

  “We should get going,” he interrupted, unable to face the music. “That is if you still want to go to the party with me.” He slowly faced her again.

  She nodded. “Of course I want to go.”

  He was screwing this up, wasn’t he? Damn it. “We can, uh, talk about this later, okay?”

  “I should get ready, then.” She fidgeted with the hem of her tank top and chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Sam,” he nearly breathed out her name, and she lifted her eyes, her lashes now wet.

  “Yeah?” she choked out.

  “Fuck it.” He squeezed his hands at his sides, his body wrapped tight with tension.

  “Fuck what?”

  “Let’s not do this. Let’s not wait until later,” he said in a rush, surprising himself.

  Her arms fell lifelessly to her sides.

  “I want you. I don’t know how not to.” He lightly shook his head. “I don’t want to do the dumbass thing most men do.” He squinted, as if she were this bright light, making it hard to see—but she was so damn bright, and it was one reason he was inexplicably drawn to her.

  “What thing?”

  He swirled a finger in a circle in the air. “The stupid thing where men run out of fear—only to come back later, with their tail between their legs, after realizing their stupidity.” He half-smiled. “Could we skip that part? Could I just tell you now that I’ll probably make mistakes in the future, but I don’t want one of them to be pushing you away?” He dropped his head, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. “I could die tomorrow, or I could live until I’m a hundred and my abs could become flabby and my skin wrinkly and—”