“I’ll check into it.” Those silver brows collided like two Rocky Mountain rams in spring rut.
“Just to clarify, I’m taking him down because he’s trafficking drugs?” Chance asked. It wasn’t often Sullivan went after drug dealers. They were plenty worth the effort, and Chance would gladly wipe every last one of them off the face of the planet, but for the most part, they were no more bothersome than mosquitoes in a world gone crazy with the more dangerous suicide bombers, unprovoked attacks on civilians, and the continual threat from the Mideast.
Sullivan had set up a strict protocol to this federally funded, blackest of black ops worlds. All the teams he’d assembled operated outside the law, yet all were comprised of men who’d honorably served America as spec ops guys while in the military, CIA, or FBI SWAT. After witnessing man’s depravity to man and various nations’ failures to protect the people, the men Sullivan had tagged pledged allegiance to the SOBs to make a difference. They wanted to turn the tide of evil in the world while it was still doable.
None took their assignments lightly, and each decision to end a life required a unanimous vote from each individual team leader before any job. From that point, the team leader decided who did the actual hit. No reports were filed afterward, nor was forensic evidence collected at any scene. Once the selected agent reported job complete, the SOBs moved on.
Surprisingly, among men who’d seen what most combat-hardened SEALs, Green Berets, Rangers, PJs, and SWAT officers had, there tended to be more unanimous votes than not.
Discussion, when it surfaced, was brief, punctuated with acronyms, and buried in code. But decisive and final. Predators existed. The SOBs vowed to end them, and one by one, they were.
Were the SOBs a behind-the-scenes organization to exact justice for crimes against man and nature? Hell yeah. Was it legal? Authorized? Moral? In a redacted, change-the-names-to-protect-the-innocent kind of a way, yes. Could the men who stood up and answered another call to serve their country be termed super heroes? Chance nearly grunted at the notion that he or his brothers were anything like Iron Man, Superman, or Thor. He’d heard the banter amongst the other team leaders. If anything, they were supper heroes. Just ring that dinner bell and see who came running. But this time was different. Something bigger was going on. Chance tried again. “Was there a vote I missed since the last time we talked?”
“York’s involved with some cartel out of South America, but it’s not just the drugs…” Sullivan slow-rolled that lead-in, his gaze out the window again. “This is out of my hands, Chance. Can you do it or do I need to get someone else?” That stung. Sullivan knew Chance’s demons, but he also knew his record as a SEAL. And Chance knew what he was really asking. Are you fit for duty or not?
“I can handle York,” Chance replied evenly. Especially since he’s in my territory, but man. This guy had to be high on somebody’s radar to force Sullivan’s hand. What’s really going on?
“How long will it take?”
Chance rolled his neck as he mentally sized up and calculated climbing Old Man Mountain in this weather. It’d be tough, but he’d climbed tougher in worse conditions. Winter ops weren’t any different than others, just a helluva lot colder. Slippery. “Forty eight hours, tops. Can you confirm York hasn’t heloed out of here yet?” There was no sense wasting time going after a man who wasn’t there. A satellite image would be helpful, but that wasn’t happening in this storm.
Sullivan’s silver head bobbed again. His eyes narrowed. More lethal bear traps hadn’t yet been made. “He was there an hour ago. Give me five to ensure he’s still on-site.” The mute button flashed to vivid green in the lower right corner of the monitor as Sullivan switched frequencies and double-checked his intel.
“You need to know who else is up there with him,” Pagan added from the doorjamb where he lounged, his ankles crossed. “You can bet he’s not alone.”
“Copy that,” Chance agreed, “but I’ve only got the green light to off York. By the way, you’re grounded. If I’m going up, you’re staying down here with Miss Tennyson.”
Pagan grunted. “So it’s Miss Tennyson now, not Suede baby?”
“It’ll always be Miss Tennyson to you.” Chance made that clear. “Do me a favor. Pull the black ops file on York, and there had better be one. We need to know what’s really going on. Sullivan’s not acting like himself.”
Pagan’s chin hit his chest in an affirmative. Lifting the ruggedized laptop from its docking station, he headed to the kitchen as Sullivan re-engaged with more bad news. The wrinkles etched on his forehead hadn’t let up since he’d taken the call. “Sorry, Chance. The timetable’s been moved up. We need York out of play, the quicker the better. I can only give you twenty-four hours.”
“Roger that.”
“And Chance,” Senator Sullivan cut in. “Make it hurt.”
“Yes, sir,” Chance snapped back, wincing as he did. “Keep your ears on.” He ended the call. Shoving out of the chair, he headed to his room.
“One last goodbye kiss?” Pagan taunted from the kitchen table where he’d set the laptop.
Chance let him think what he wanted. “Check this place for bugs while you’re at it. Do it now. It’s just possible our guest is an unwilling pawn in a bigger game, that she brought something in with her. Sullivan’s too antsy. Something’s up.”
“Will do.” Pagan might growl and complain, but he snapped to when needed.
Chapter Twelve
At his bedroom door, Chance knocked. Her shower, bath, whatever had to wait. “Suede?” he called out, his ear cocked for her reply. He didn’t want to wake her, but he would if he had to. He needed answers.
A soft “Come in” answered. Entering the room, he shut the door behind him and settled his back to it instead of crossing the room. Facing her brought the same feverish rush of emotions back to him. The breakfast tray was now on the nightstand with the cup. Even hurt as badly as she was, she was a beauty, but that wasn’t what drew him. It was that tiny hand she’d stuck between them during that kiss, her fingers spread over his chest when she’d drawn the line. A man had to respect that and he did, but it told him a lot about her, too.
Right now it rested at her throat. Suede’s delicate brows lifted over two blue eyes that were quickly turning black and blue. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me everything about York’s camp. How did you get up top? Did you hike in? Fly in by helo?”
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Early yesterday morning while the sun was shining. A chopper dropped us off, but there was already a camping module in place. On skids. I guess another helicopter dropped it off earlier. Two of his guys came with us. There’s an old cabin up there too, but it was empty, and we only peeked inside. The photographer should’ve arrived at noon, but the weather turned and no one showed. Why? What’s going on?”
Chance shook his head, not willing to provide answers she wasn’t ready to hear. “Is he armed?”
Blink. Blink. Blink. “Yes. He carries a pistol in a holster inside the back of his pants and a smaller one on his ankle, but that’s no big deal. Everyone does it.”
Maybe in her world that was true, but it smacked of underworld ties. “What kind of pistols?”
A dimple tweaked her cheek. “I don’t know. They’re… black. One’s big. One’s small.” This woman needed a lesson on guns in the worst way.
“Did you ever see him use them? Has he killed anyone in front of you?”
“No.”
“Did he bring luggage? Did you?”
Her bandaged hands smoothed the wrinkles out of the blanket over her lap. “He said we weren’t staying long, only until the light changed, you know, for the photographer, so I only brought what I had on.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“Stuff. Our engagement. My ring.” The cords of her neck visibly tightened as she swallowed. Her fingers stiffened on the blanket. “My dad.”
“What about your father?”
She stalled, her br
ows turned into delicate arches. The light in her stormy blues had turned grayer with every question. “What’s this about, Chance? You’re scaring me.”
He pushed for more intel instead of comforting her, his first inclination. “Answer me. What’d York want to know about your dad?”
Her cheeks puffed with a deep breath. “He asked me how many bodyguards Dad employs these days, but how would I know? I left home four years ago, and I haven’t been back. It’s not like we ever talked much when I lived there anyway.”
“What did you tell him?”
Her tongue made the rounds again, moistening her lips, and Chance wished he were taking care of that personal chore for her. “I told him five as far as I knew, but Dad might have hired more since I left.”
“What’d he say to that?”
“He grunted and said, umm…” Her eyes narrowed as if she were trying to remember. “He said that jived, but then he clammed up, and he wanted to see my ring again. He took it off my finger and… and…” Her eyes brimmed.
“Don’t cry, Suede,” Chance said quietly. “York isn’t worth it.”
“But he took my ring and shoved me, and I didn’t realize how close we’d gotten to the edge, and he kept shoving me, and when I stumbled, he… he kicked me, Chance. Can you believe that?” She leaned into her words, her fingertips fluttering over the swells of her breasts. “He. Kicked. Me.”
It took every last ounce of strength Chance had not to run to her, enfold her in his arms, and promise no one would ever hurt her again. Despite the sex-kitten allure of her, there was no denying the innocent disbelief radiating in those stormy, tropical blues. For the past years, she’d trusted York to some degree, and he’d betrayed her in the vilest ways possible. He’d stamped more than just that waffle-tread bruise above her blackening eyes.
“I know, Suede. I know. He’s lived outside the law long enough. It’s time he answers for his crimes.” Chance clenched his hands behind his back, knowing that if he took one step toward Suede, she’d be in his arms. It was time to confess what little he could. “Your ex has been under investigation by the outfit I work for. He’s more dangerous than we suspected.”
That didn’t explain why Sullivan had blown past all protocol stops for this particular hit, though. That by itself plagued Chance with enough doubt to call the senator back and demand NOT to be treated like a hired gun without scruples or honor. The rules were clear. Every sanctioned hit had to be vetted by all team leaders in this chicken shit outfit, Pagan’s words, not Chance’s, before Sullivan gave the green light.
True, it wasn’t often team leaders turned down a sanctioned job, but it happened. Pagan had better find more than bureaucratic redacted roadblocks in York’s file or this mission was going nowhere.
Suede’s eyes widened. “He’s dangerous? You think I don’t know that? What are you going to do? Kill him because he tried to murder me?”
Bingo. Chance kept his game face on and his expression blank, but her eyes lit up with enlightenment. “You are, aren’t you?” She leaned forward, her bandaged fingers cupped together on her lap. “You’re going to kill Lionel York. It’s impossible. Don’t go. Chance, please don’t go.”
He froze. It wasn’t fear shimmering in her eyes, it was outright terror. What on Earth had this poor woman lived through at York’s hand? Chance softened his tone. “For all he knows, you’re dead, and I’m not certain he knows I live in these parts. I’m willing to confront the bastard and make certain he never comes after you again.”
“But... but he’s a black belt and he plays dirty.” Her voice pitched higher. “I’ve seen him fight with his guys. They never won.”
“Then he’s about to meet his match, isn’t he?”
She tugged the blanket under her chin as if she needed to protect herself from him now, too. “W-w-who are you?”
Truth or dare. He stared her down and gave her what he could. “I’m the guy who keeps ladies who’ve just been shoved off mountains safe for the rest of their lives.” That begged another question. “What happened to your coat, Suede? Why weren’t you wearing one when I found you?”
Blink. Blink. “He… he…” Her lips thinned and her teeth clamped down on the bottom one. “He… he wanted me to undress. Up there. In the storm. He likes to play games, but the way he said it scared me, and I said n-n-n-o, that I wasn’t a c-complete idiot.”
Humiliation radiated between Chance and Suede the second she said that word—idiot. The degradation she’d endured lifted up her neck like a red wave, coloring her cheeks before her lashes dropped to hide her shame.
It broke Chance’s heart when she rolled the blanket beneath her bandaged fingertips into a small line of defense. Suede believed herself an idiot. Damn the bastards who’d made her feel this way, and that included her self-serving parents and any high school jock who’d ever minimized her. Chance wanted to beat the shit out of every last one of them—after he killed York.
Focus!
“So he took your coat in the middle of a raging blizzard? He wanted you naked?” The asshole.
Her head bobbed. “He wanted everything,” she said to the blanket beneath her fidgeting fingers. “My coat. His ring. My—”
“Suede,” Chance barked loud enough to bring her head up. “Eyes on me. This isn’t about you, so stop with the pity party.” Now I’m being a total ass, but I can’t tell her I care because, damn it. I do.
She looked at him then, her gaze desolate. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice as small as a whisper. “I have nothing. I am nothing. He owns me. My clothes. My shoes. Everything. That’s why he threw me away. I was just another—”
“Bullshit!” burst out of Chance before he could call it back. “He might want you to believe that, but you know better. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re…” Digging yourself a deep hole here, buddy. Chance changed the subject before he waxed any more complimentary with this particular lady. “Listen. I have to take off for awhile, but my brother’s here. He’ll stay with you until I get back, so if you need anything, yell at him and he’ll get it for you.”
“Wh-what’s his name?” The outright fear in her tone rattled him. “When did h-he get here?”
“Pagan Sinclair. He’s my baby brother, so don’t worry. He’ll mind his business unless you need something.” Or I’ll break his neck when I get back. To make certain she felt safe, Chance opened the door and called, “Here, boy.”
Gallo slinked into the room, his head down and his tail between his legs as if he’d done something wrong.
Suede let out a tight little chuckle that caught in her throat. “Oh, a dog.” Her lips pursed with a puff of relief. “I thought you, umm, called your brother, ‘boy’.”
“If I was calling him, I’d use stronger language,” Chance teased to lighten the mood, “but no, this guy’s Gallo. Pagan’s more of a cocker spaniel type. I’ll introduce him before I leave, but this guy’ll be better company. Protect,” he ordered.
That brought Gallo’s ears up as quickly as Suede’s. He took his place at her side, his big radar ears pitched forward and the guilty look wiped off his funny face. For a minute there, Gallo almost looked like he knew what he was doing.
“Protect?” she asked. “He’s a guard dog? Can I pet him?”
“You bet, and no, he’s not a guard dog yet, but he’s learning. On the bed, Gallo. Keep her happy while I’m gone.” It touched Chance to see the affection Suede lavished on his crazy hound. Gallo didn’t look dangerous at all lying on his back with all four paws in the air and getting his belly scratched by her taped fingers.
The tension in the room dropped to zero until Suede lifted her face from the full body hug she’d bestowed on the dog. “Tell me. Who are you?”
He blew out a stiff breath of certainty. “At the moment, I’m your best bet against guys like York. Get some rest while I’m gone. I’ll help you with that shower tomorrow. Promise.”
“Kiss me goodbye?”
He sucked in a long
draw of uncertainty. It’d been awhile since he’d been this close with a woman he couldn’t resist. The SEAL flies and ex-wives hunting for wedding rings and pensions in Coronado were easy to spot, but this gal had gotten under his radar in a big way, and she’d done it in less than a day. Better yet, Suede seemed unaware of her natural charms. That moment she’d stuck her chin at him and told him she cared was an unexpected bonus. It was a dare, plain and simple. A truthful dare he had to handle with care so he didn’t mislead her. A little finesse wouldn’t hurt. Too bad, he didn’t have any.
Despite her notorious rep, he liked Suede, but the last thing she needed in her life was another jerk. He wasn’t finished with his wars yet, and when she found out that he’d offed her ex—if he did—well, Chance didn’t want to go there. At best, they were two ships in the dark of one, maybe two, bad nights. It’d be best if they kept sailing in opposite directions.
If his feet would only move.
Her lashes dropped. “I want to do things with you,” she whispered.
Heavens, me too. Kiss you. Fondle you. Make you scream when you come and—
“Like a picnic. Maybe go for a walk. Get to know you better.”
Oh, that. He swallowed hard, his horny mind on a completely different agenda. She was no pure little angel, but Suede Tennyson was no hardcore tramp either. She deserved better than the cards she’d been dealt, and if she wanted a picnic, Chance could do that.
He walked to his bed and took a knee at her side. Cupping her jaw between both his callused hands, he leaned in and kissed her forehead instead of her tempting lips. “Rest easy, kid. I’ll be back by morning.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Did you find it?” Chance asked as he stepped out of his bedroom, his gear bags in hand. He kept a couple packed for moments when he needed to make a quick exit. All SEALs did.
Angel: An SOBs Novel Page 10
