Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Ritt (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The 13 Book 2)

by Anne L. Parks

  “Good job.” He looked around. “Where’s Riley?”

  Vacant expressions on the men’s faces jumpstarted Lance’s heart and rocketed into space. “She hasn’t come out of the admin building yet?”

  Lance didn’t wait for an answer. Running at full speed, he didn’t notice he was sucking in air. Or the pain in his leg muscles at getting worked so strenuously again so soon. All he could think about was finding Riley. He should never have let her go after Andrew by herself.

  If anything happened to her, it was on him. And he would never be able to live knowing he could have saved her. She should’ve been his priority. His mission. Not the Ambassador. And not that fucking Russian piece of shit.

  He ran through the doors and looked around the lobby. Two hallways broke off either side. He ordered Mick and Lucas down each of them. He headed for the stairs. Halfway up, a gunshot rang out.

  Riley!

  He hit the top step and spun around. Where is she? Two bodies lie in the middle of the hallway. One was Andrew. The other was Riley. Bolting forward, he dropped to his knees and slid to her side.

  Andrew’s body lay in a pool of blood. His eyes were open, glazed. Vacant.

  Riley’s eyes fluttered open, and the gorgeous green wrapped around his heart like a warm blanket. She looked toward Andrew’s body. “Is he?”

  “Dead?” Lance asked. “Yeah.”

  “Where’d it hit?”

  Lance stared at the hole in the man’s forehead. “Right between the eyes.” He looked back at her and smiled. “Impressive shot.”

  “Non-dom hand, no less.” She raised her right arm. Her hand flopped over at an unnatural angle. She winced with the effort.

  “Any other injuries?” he asked.

  “Side,” she gritted out.

  Blood soaked her left side. Christ, how had he not seen that? Because he was so damn happy she was alive.

  “Jesus, Riley.” He gently pulled her shirt up and examined the wound. Blood ran out in a steady stream. He pulled his jacket over his head and pushed into her side.

  She hissed. He hated hurting her, but had to get direct pressure on the wound to staunch the bleeding.

  Mick hit the landing. “She’s hit in the side, and has a broken wrist. Need medical now,” Lance yelled. Mick nodded and headed back down the stairs.

  “Hey, don’t be upset,” Riley said, her words slurred. “I did what you said.”

  “How’s that,” he asked. He was pissed. Not at her, but at himself. She was lying in a pool of her own blood because of him.

  “I didn’t die.” She laughed and then sighed. Her eyes drooped. “But it’s possible I’m going to pass out.”

  Chapter 15

  One month later

  CIA Headquarters

  Washington, DC

  Riley sat in the reception area outside the CIA Director’s office, rubbing her clammy hands along her thighs. Since she had returned to DC a week ago, she was forced to get used to wearing suits again. The dress code in Amman and Syria was more relaxed than inside the beltway. She had been given a desk in a cubicle, a phone, and a new laptop. Her old one was taken as evidence during the investigation into Andrew Kelly’s acts of espionage and his death.

  That was fine with her. Out with the old, in with the new. She was a different person than she had been in Amman. Not so hyper-focused on her job that she missed signs of other things going on around her. The only thing that hadn’t changed was her love of country, her fierce desire to rid the world of terrorists. Ensuring her team’s safety in hostile environments was a top priority.

  And her love for Lance.

  A piece of her heart shattered whenever she thought of him. He’d been with her during her entire recovery. Then he told he had to return stateside. She hadn’t really worried about it. She knew she would be returning to the States as soon as the investigation was completed.

  What she hadn’t expected was complete radio silence from him. There had been no communication at all—no calls, texts, emails—nothing. She wondered if something had happened to him, so she sent him a text. It showed as being read, but he never responded.

  That was enough for her to decide that the relationship had been one-sided, and that she actually was the biggest idiot to live. It had been too good. Too fast. Lance could have any woman he wanted. While he was in Amman, that woman had been her. Now, that he was back, he was probably on the prowl to find someone a little less difficult and a lot more busty.

  The idea of him being with another woman made her want to scream bloody murder and break shit. So many days had been spent punching (with her good hand) and kicking a hanging bag at the gym. She was sure she looked like a raving lunatic while doing it, imagining every sort of woman, naked underneath Lance, as he thrust into her. So far, she figured she had murdered and/or maimed half the female population in the greater DC area between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. All in her head, of course.

  But the scenes had been vivid.

  She took a deep breath, and tapped her foot nervously on the plush carpet. What the hell was taking so long? She hated hurrying up to be on time for a meeting, then sitting on her ass well after when the meeting should’ve started. She was anxious to figure out what she would be doing next, and getting started on her new life.

  The one that didn’t include Lance.

  God, she hoped they gave her Dix’s position. She had heard through the grapevine he was removed from heading up the Amman Analyst division, but she wasn’t sure where he had been sent. Of course, with the damage to the Embassy, the CIA had to move to a different location in Jordan, and the analyst division significantly pared down while investigators crawled up everyone’s ass. No one who had been under her remained in Jordan. They had all received new assignments.

  She was the last one to get her new placement.

  The door to the Director’s office opened. Deputy Director Jay Faulks motioned for her to come into his office. He closed the door behind her, motioned to a chair, and strode around his desk. “Have a seat.”

  He dropped into his leather desk chair and smiled at her. “How are you feeling, Riley?”

  “Good, thank you.”

  He pointed to her wrist. “And when will you be out of the brace?”

  “The doctors think two weeks.”

  “Good, good. Glad to hear you’re doing so well. And very happy that the mess in Syria and Amman is behind us—at least the investigation side of things.”

  The ripple effect of what transpired would be far-reaching and take years to implement all the new regulations and protocols borne of those tragedies.

  “I expect you are anxious to find out about your new assignment, and I know you were hoping to get the analyst director position vacated by Tom Dix. Unfortunately, we are going to have to fill that with another person.”

  Riley’s heart squeezed tightly in her chest, and a cloud of disappointment darkened her vision.

  Fuck. She had thought she was a shoe-in for the job. Everyone she had worked with had provided glowing recommendations, as far as she knew. Her people liked her, enjoyed working under her. She was strict, yes, but fair.

  “There was a request for your expertise by another unit. Now, I’ll be perfectly honest—from what I understand, it is a big fucking deal to be considered by this team. But that is the extent of what I can tell you. The program is highly classified. Above my clearance level, and there aren’t many levels above me.”

  He passed her a piece of paper with an address and phone number on it, along with a date and time.

  “You need to report to that address this afternoon to be briefed.”

  She stared at the paper then up at Faulks. “But you don’t know what the job is? Or who it’s with?”

  “Nope, but then, this is the CIA. We’re nothing if not highly secretive.” His grin filled his face, proud he had made a joke.

  Riley forced a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

  He stood and reached his hand across his desk.
“Good luck, Riley. Leave the door open on your way out.”

  He sat down and turned his attention toward his computer.

  She left the office and stared at the piece of paper.

  What the hell?

  * * *

  Lance checked his phone for what had to have been the hundredth time in the last minute and a half. Riley was due to arrive in five minutes. He hadn’t had any contact with her since he left Jordan. A mix of apprehension and excitement sent his heart flip-flopping and sweat dripping down his back.

  “What are you so nervous about?” Holt asked, closing Riley’s file, and dropping it on the table. He quirked up an eyebrow and stared at Lance. “You’re like a man on death row waiting for the executioner to come calling.”

  “No, just want to get this over with. The sooner we get her read-in, the sooner we can pull the team together and get down to work.”

  A knock at the door caught his attention. He glanced at his watch. Right on the dot.

  Lance stepped out of the way, and let Holt answer the door. It was ultimately Holt’s team. His job to evaluate her based on Lance’s inputs and recommendation. And not because Lance was about to shit a brick wondering how Riley would react to his presence after all this time.

  “Ms. Bray,” Holt greeted her as he opened the door. “Please come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lance felt her before he actually saw her. But once his gaze landed on her, he knew it was game over. All the feelings she had evoked in him in Amman came rushing back with a vengeance. She was wearing a navy-blue suit with a white blouse. Her silky red hair was down and fell in waves over her shoulders. He wanted to reach out, run his fingers through them.

  Holt closed the door behind and stepped around her so she didn’t feel trapped in the room. If she needed to leave, no one was standing between her and the door. After all, she had no idea who Holt was or why she was there. And she still had no idea Lance was in the room.

  Until she turned around and faced him. Her eyes widened and she just stared at him for a moment, her features and emotions unreadable.

  “I’m Colonel John Holt.”

  She finally released Lance from her gaze, looked at Holt, and shook his outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Colonel.”

  “I think you know Commander Knight?”

  Lance put out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Riley.”

  She gripped his hand hard. “Lance.”

  Holt gestured to a chair in the sitting area across from them. “Have a seat, Ms. Bray.”

  “Please, call me Riley.”

  Holt smiled at her. “I imagine you’re curious as to why you’re meeting with us in a hotel room.”

  “I’m curious about many things, sir.” Her eyes bore into Lance with a steely gaze.

  Yep, she’s pissed at me.

  This was not the time or place to talk to her about why he had essentially cut her off without an explanation. No matter how much he wanted to tell her that he had to do it. All of that could be addressed after she had an understanding of what she was becoming a part of.

  “This is highly classified. Once you leave this room, you will not be able to talk about or even acknowledge the existence of any of the information I am about to give you. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “The war on terror is far from coming to an end. Over the past twenty years we have seen a rise in the number of terrorist organizations created worldwide. Some of these groups never interfere with the US or our allies. Some start with a roar and end in a whimper before they reek any substantial havoc, by our standards. Some change names, leaders, and focus, but are still the same enemy we have faced since before 9/11. This is all stuff you know.”

  Riley looked intrigued. All her attention was focused on Holt, and Lance was not even a blip on her radar.

  And that was why he chose her. Why he knew she was the perfect candidate for the final spot on the team. The ability to turn off the extraneous crap that comes with everyday life and hyper-focus on what was ultimately important at that moment.

  And it was why he was crazy about this woman.

  “Recently, the President created a unit made up of the most elite members of the special operations teams within each branch of the military. Specifically, three members from each—SEALs, Rangers, Raiders, and PJ’s. And one CIA analyst.”

  Recognition dawned on her and her features relaxed a bit. She swung her gaze to Lance. He smiled and nodded.

  “You must have impressed the hell out of Lance, because he has been singing your praises since returning from Jordan.” Holt leaned back in his seat. “That’s not an easy task. He’s kind of a hard ass.”

  “Yes, sir. I have seen that side of him.” She smiled, and Lance nearly dropped to the floor at her feet.

  Jesus, she had turned him into a blubbering romantic fool.

  “Does this sound like something you want to be a part of?” Holt asked.

  A wide grin crossed her face and her green eyes glistened like emeralds in the sun. “Oh, yeah. I would love to be a part of the team.”

  Holt stood and reached across to her. “Welcome to The 13, Ms. Bray.” He turned and walked toward the door. “Lance will go over the logistics with you, and all the admin crap that I, frankly, don’t want to deal with.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate your confidence in me.”

  “Not mine—” he stalled at the door, and pointed at Lance. “His.”

  * * *

  The door closed behind Colonel Holt and the room went eerily quiet. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined getting an opportunity like the one she had just received. A wide array of emotions zipped through her body like a pinball machine with too many balls in play at once.

  She wanted to throw her arms around Lance and thank him. Hug him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Kiss him until he carried her into the bedroom and made love to her all night long.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, sitting back in her seat before she fell over.

  “Lance sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, and held her broken wrist. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Wrist is just about healed. Side hurts if I tweak it just the right way, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

  He nodded, but his eyes softened and he looked down at the floor. “You understand why I couldn’t contact you.”

  “Not really.”

  His piercing ice blue eyes held her captive, and heat flooded her body, sending tendrils of lusty want across her skin.

  “I was recommending you for this job. I didn't want anyone speculating that I was thinking with my dick. So, I thought it was best to lay low until all this was sorted out.”

  “Were you?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted the answer to the question. “Thinking with your dick?”

  “I would never jeopardize my men just to get my girlfriend a job so we could be closer.”

  The air in her lungs stilled and her heart stopped beating.

  Girlfriend?

  “I watched you make a recommendation counter to your boss knowing it would bring a rash of shit on you. I witnessed you take control of a situation and work to get as many men out of Palmyra as possible before everyone on the team was killed. And I saw you go after Dix because of his own stupidity. There is never a question of your priorities, Riley. Your country and your team.” He smiled and kissed her knuckles. “Not always in that order.

  “I trust my instincts about a person and mine told me you’d just as soon die than loose another man on your watch. That’s the person I want covering my back and everyone on the team.”

  “This is going to be complicated.”

  “Not really.”

  “How do you figure?”

  ‘We’re both professionals who put the mission and the team first. Our relationship doesn’t have to be a part of that. If anything, it will probably be better for both of us in the long run. Think about
it. We understand the rigors of the job. The stressors.”

  She nodded. Everything he was saying rang true. The type of work they were doing came with a level of commitment that could put a strain on a normal relationship. Especially due to the classified nature of their work. They could bypass that landmine since they were both involved in the missions. They would be able to talk about what was going on at work without fear of revealing highly sensitive intelligence.

  “So, are you coming to Newport?”

  “Newport? Rhode Island? That’s where we’ll be?”

  Lance nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “Looks that way, then.”

  “Good, because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  “I think I might be falling in love with you, too.”

  “What can I do to get you all the way there?”

  She pulled him to his feet and walked towards the bedroom. “Show me.”

  He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. “Your wish is my command.”

  Epilogue

  The Coffee House

  Bethesda, Maryland

  Tom Dix sipped his coffee, relished the solitude. Since he’d been back from Jordan, his wife had been on his ass day and night about what was happening with him at work. He’d tried to sugar coat his new position as a move up, but she knew him too well. After twenty-eight years of marriage and two kids, there was an inability to hide things from her. Something in his body language was setting off warning bells.

  God, she was a pain in his ass. He should’ve divorced the bitch years ago, but he needed her for show. The happy homemaker and diligent mother, stalwart supporter of her CIA husband, able to throw the best dinner parties to schmooze his bosses, and kiss up to their wives. But for all her assets, she hadn’t been able to save him from his current predicament.

  He had reached a pinnacle in his career with the company. All the people he’d screwed over to get ahead were now bitter, and refused to help him in his hour of need. And he was relegated to a job that screamed, “retire soon because it’s not going to get any better than this.”

  And it all fell on one person—that whore, Riley Bray. She’d ruined everything for him. She had made him look like a fool in front of Knight which was apparently enough for him to decide against offering the open analyst position to Dix. He’d never liked that little cunt, Bray. She’d come in with her fiery red hair, on her high horse, thinking she was the golden child because she had moved up the ranks so quickly. Dix had been sure it was because she slept with all her bosses, but she’d never made any moves to get in the sack with him. And he had actually been looking forward to it. He wouldn’t have minded getting blown by her on a regular basis. And he had been more than curious about fucking some ginger minge.