by Susan Stoker
No. Fuck no.
He’d get the team together and they’d figure out who wanted Caite dead, and why. The alternative was unacceptable.
Two hours later, Caite sat in the middle of Rocco’s apartment, looking from one of his teammates to another, waiting for someone to start talking. Without explanation, Rocco had refused to go back to her place, but instead had driven straight to his apartment complex and called Gumby, Ace, Phantom, Rex, and Bubba for an emergency meeting.
Caite had been edgy and nervous ever since she’d told Rocco about all her bad luck…or good luck, depending on how she looked at it. Something was bothering him, and she couldn’t figure out if it was something she’d said, something she’d done, or something else entirely. She knew Rocco pretty well, but obviously not well enough.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Rocco pulled the coffee table closer to where she was sitting on the couch and reached for her hands. Caite swallowed hard.
“You know how you told me about your run of bad luck?” he asked.
Caite nodded.
“It’s not bad luck,” Rocco told her. “Someone wants you dead.”
She gaped at him. “What? No, that’s not true.”
“Ma petite fée, you’re exactly right when you say that none of that stuff happened until you met me. But I think it’s more than that. Think back to when you overheard that conversation with the Bitoo brothers. I’ve thought about this until I can’t think anymore, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be what this is about. I think you overheard something that someone doesn’t want getting out.”
Caite immediately shook her head. “I’ve told you what I can remember,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ve tried to remember more details, but I was freaking out when they started talking. I thought they were going to do something to me at first, but then when they started discussing you guys, it was even scarier.”
“Easy, hon,” Rocco said, squeezing her hands gently. “You’re safe here.”
“Seriously, Rocco, I can’t think of anything else other than what I’ve already told you.”
Ace pushed off the wall and came over to where she was sitting. He sat next to her, putting a reassuring hand on her thigh. “You might’ve heard something that was minor, just a part of the conversation, and it didn’t even register. Can you go through what you heard for us? Maybe we’ll recognize it when we hear it.”
Caite knew she was breathing too fast, and it felt as if her heart was beating a million miles a minute. “That kid today was killed because of me?” she asked quietly, ignoring Ace’s suggestion.
“No,” Rocco said. “Absolutely not. He was killed because he was greedy. Because he took the easy way out. Because that other guy got a little too zealous in his desire to protect us. That kid agreed to help some asshole because of what he could get out of it. Not caring what might happen to you if he delivered you as promised.”
Something else occurred to Caite just then. “Are you in danger because of me?” she asked, her voice almost shrill. “You could’ve been shot today because of me! Holy shit!” Caite looked around as if to find an escape route, but Rocco ducked into her field of vision and took hold of her head, forcing her to look at him.
“Calm down.”
She shook her head as best she could in his grip, but her hands came up and wrapped around his wrists so tightly, her fingers turned white with the pressure. “No! That’s it. We’re broken up! You have to take me home! Forget you ever heard my name.”
“We’re not broken up,” Rocco said calmly. “And I’m not in danger. The only one who needs to worry from here on out is the asshole who wants you dead.”
“Is my family safe?” Caite asked. “Do I need to call my parents and tell them to take a vacation to Timbuktu because someone thinks I overheard something I didn’t?”
“I’ll make sure they’re covered,” Phantom said as he pulled out his phone.
Her eyes flicked from Phantom to Rocco. “You guys are kinda scary,” Caite said. “Who’s he calling? Superman?”
Everyone chuckled but Rocco. “Are you with me?” he asked instead.
“With you?”
“With me. Dating. My woman,” he clarified.
“Um…yes?”
“Right. So from here on out, whatever you need, you’ll get. Whether that’s a fucking spa day, chocolate during a certain time of the month, or protection for your parents.”
“That’s… I don’t know what that is.”
“It is what it is,” Bubba said from the other side of her on the couch. “It’s how we operate. We take care of our own, and you’re one of us.”
“I barely know how to swim,” Caite mumbled. “How can I be one of you when I can’t even swim?”
Ignoring her comment, Rocco said, “Close your eyes, ma petite fée. Think back to the conference at the naval base. You were sitting there waiting for time to go by and thinking about paperwork that your asshole boss didn’t bother to do and you heard the brothers speaking in French. What were they saying?”
Caite took a deep breath and concentrated on the way Rocco’s hands felt on her. She could feel the warmth of his body against her knees. Even the slight weight of his friends on either side of her made her feel safer. She hated knowing that she might’ve heard something that was now making someone want to kill her. But she hated even more having no idea what it was.
She thought back to that day. Remembered how irritated she was that she had to be at the conference when she’d rather be wallowing in despair that Rocco had stood her up. She wasn’t paying attention to the people milling around her because she was irritated with the whole delayed lunch issue and was just passing the time doodling.
“Their voices stood out because they were speaking French,” Caite said after a moment. “The other people talking in the room just faded into the background, but because it had been so long since I’d heard French, I was paying attention.”
“What were they saying?” Rocco asked gently, shifting his hands down to hold hers.
Caite could feel his thumbs gently rubbing over the backs of her hands. It felt good. Soothing. “I had my back to them, so I couldn’t tell who was saying what, but at first they were concerned that someone would overhear them and understand what they were saying. To prove that no one could, and probably since I was closest, one of the men insulted me very loudly in French, I guess to see if I’d glare at them or tell them to buzz off. But I didn’t. I sat there and pretended I didn’t hear.”
“I’m sorry you had to listen to that, ma petite fée.”
Just the sound of Rocco’s smooth, low voice made her relax. She realized she’d been gripping his hands way too tightly, so she consciously tried to calm down. She wasn’t there. She was here. Surrounded by Rocco and his team. She was safe.
“They weren’t happy about having to be at the conference. They wanted to go and kill you guys right then,” she told the group.
“Why didn’t they?” Ace asked.
Caite furrowed her brow and tried to remember what they’d said. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Some of the brothers wanted to go right away and take care of you guys, but the older one, at least I think it was him, wanted to wait. Wanted to make sure they would have an alibi. I’m pretty sure they knew you were SEALs. Or at least knew you could overpower them if they weren’t ready.”
“They were right,” Bubba said quietly.
“Guns,” Caite said, sitting up straighter. “They didn’t have any and wanted to get them.”
“Where were they going to get them from?” Rocco asked.
“Um…I don’t know. They said something about the navy taking back the tablets if they found them, and that they needed to lie low or something. They started arguing about who would get to shoot you guys, and then said they’d leave your bodies there. They didn’t care if their dad got in trouble. They figured he’d be deported and they’d get to take over the store.” Caite stoppe
d and opened her eyes. “I think one said that he didn’t care if your bodies started to rot.” She swallowed hard as she stared at Rocco.
“I’m fine, ma petite fée. You got there in time. You got us out,” he said gently.
Caite nodded and willed her tears back. “Damn straight I did,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster.
She was rewarded when Rocco smiled at her. “That’s my girl,” he praised. “Back to the guns. They didn’t have any. Are you sure they didn’t say anything about where they were going to get one?”
Caite closed her eyes again and concentrated. Then her eyes popped open suddenly. “One of them said a name. Asked if he could help. One of his brothers dismissed the idea, saying the guy was all the way in America and only cared about the tablets.”
“Think, Caite. Who?” Rocco urged. “What was the name?”
“I don’t know! Their accents were thick and I was having a hard time understanding. I learned Parisian French. Not African French. And I think they had a local dialect too.”
“It’s okay…shhhhh,” Rocco soothed.
“It’ll come to you when you least expect it,” Rex reassured her.
“We need to call NCIS,” Bubba said.
“And Commander North,” Rocco said, looking up at his friend. “We don’t know for sure, but all indicators are pointing to the fact that this guy is probably navy. There’s a mole in Bahrain, and Commander Horner believes it’s someone in his unit. I’m thinking someone has to be holding something pretty big over this mole, and a high-ranking officer would certainly be able to threaten someone to do their dirty work. So if this guy really is navy, I’m guessing he’s pretty high up. There’s no way a junior enlisted or even a noncommissioned officer would have the clout to orchestrate something like this. Not to mention that kid today said something about being promoted if he brought Caite in. That sounds like a senior or flag officer.”
“Do we know who he is yet?” Bubba asked.
Rocco shook his head. “No. He didn’t have any ID on him. But if he’s in the navy, his fingerprints will definitely be in the system. Hopefully they’ll come back soon and this thing will be over.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to call Commander North,” Ace said. “I mean, maybe the commander knows whoever this is, maybe they’re friends.”
“North is clean. I’d stake my career on it,” Rocco said. “And I know him. He wouldn’t cover for anyone for attempted murder. No way.”
“Fine. I’ll head over to the base and talk to him,” Ace said.
“And I’ll call NCIS as soon as I leave,” Bubba said. “They’re going to want to interview Caite,” he warned.
Caite looked from one man to the other as they discussed their next steps. Personally, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under the covers, but she sat docilely as the team talked about what to do.
She tried to remember the name one of the brothers had mentioned, and she just couldn’t bring it up from the recesses of her mind. It was there, she knew it. But she couldn’t seem to call it forth.
“Maybe we can give her a list of all the flag and senior officers stationed here and see if she recognizes one of them,” Phantom suggested.
“Maybe,” Rocco said. “But not quite yet. We just figured out that someone wants her dead, most likely because of what she overheard. I think we should let her think about the conversation a bit on her own before we overwhelm her with names. Caite?”
She blinked up at Rocco. “Yeah?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh…um. Okay. Can’t the navy or whoever just go and find the Bitoo brothers and ask them who they were going to try to get a gun from?”
Rocco stared at her for a long moment—and Caite’s stomach immediately got tight. She wasn’t going to like what he said next, she just knew it.
“They’re dead, Caite.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The authorities in Bahrain were looking for them but weren’t having any luck, until their bodies washed up in an industrial area on the west side of the country.”
Caite swallowed hard. She hadn’t liked the men, not in the least. They were going to kill Rocco and the others…but she hadn’t wanted them to be murdered.
Her hopes came crashing down. This really was on her. If she didn’t remember the name of the person they’d been talking about, he’d eventually probably succeed in killing her. She’d been extremely lucky so far. She had a feeling her luck wouldn’t hold much longer.
“Stop it,” Rocco scolded gently.
“Stop what?” Caite asked.
“Thinking that way.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“Because I know you, ma petite fée. And now that we all know your life is in jeopardy, no one is getting near you. I’m going to call in every connection I’ve got to make this right.”
The pesky tears threatened once more, but Caite blinked them away. “Okay.”
“Right. Let NCIS know I’ll bring Caite in tomorrow so they can talk to her,” Rocco told Bubba.
“Will do,” the other man replied.
“You want us to keep watch?” Phantom asked.
Rocco shook his head. “No. We’re safe enough here.”
“I’ll talk to the commander,” Ace said. “I’ll explain what’s going on.”
“’Preciate that,” Rocco said.
And with that, the five men stood and made for the door. Rocco followed and locked the deadbolt behind them. Within moments, Caite and Rocco were alone.
He sat next to her on the couch this time and took her in his arms. “We’re going to figure this out,” he said quietly into her hair. “No way I’ve found you only to lose you now.”
Caite had no words. All she could do was cling to what seemed like the only stable thing in her life at the moment.
Captain Isaac Chambers stared down at the news app on his phone. It was an alert about an attempted carjacking down by one of the beaches in the area. His gut clenched. He took a few deep breaths and tightened his fists. How he could be so unlucky was beyond him.
All the seaman had to do was bring him the girl. That’s it. How the fuck he’d managed to get himself killed was a mystery he didn’t give one shit about discovering.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Chambers muttered. “Why is it so hard to kill one slip of a girl?”
He’d paid off the junkie for shooting her in the fake robbery, but it turned out that he hadn’t even hit her, had only grazed her arm. The blood he’d seen on the floor had been from the head wound she’d gotten when she’d hit it while falling.
Knowing the FBI maintained a database with the fingerprints of military personnel, Chambers swore. Now he had to deal with that as well, because the second authorities figured out the carjacker was Carter Richards—who was under his command—they’d likely connect all the dots and he was done for.
He quickly pulled out one of his many disposable, untraceable phones, and shot off a text to his contact in Bahrain.
* * *
Boss: Delete Carter Richards’s fingerprints from the FBI database. Immediately.
* * *
Even with the time change, he received a reply almost immediately.
* * *
Dr. Who: Seriously? That’s not as easy as it seems.
Boss: I don’t care. It has to be done. Pronto. Otherwise we’re all fucked.
* * *
It took several minutes for a reply to come back in.
* * *
Dr. Who: I’ve never hacked into the FBI before. But I’ll do my best.
* * *
Fuck! Chambers ran a hand through his hair in agitation. Everything had been so perfect for so long. The petty officer third class had been extremely useful in passing along information from the base in Bahrain. Chambers had easily found out everything he needed to know in order to avoid being caught. He’d met the tech expert when
he’d still been a seaman, and had taken advantage of the fact that he had two kids and a wife to support.
The situation had been ideal. But everything had begun to unravel thanks to Caite McCallan’s transfer to Bahrain. Of course they’d had to hire someone who was fluent in French.
And Carter Richards screwing up a simple abduction was the last straw.
Chambers was done fucking around.
“If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” he mumbled.
Standing, Chambers went to the locked filing cabinet in the corner of his office. He wasn’t supposed to have a loaded firearm, but fuck that. He fastened the ankle holster on and tucked the pistol inside.
He strode over to the window and stared outside. His office overlooked one of the training beaches for the SEALs. Watching the recruits being put through their paces in the distance didn’t distract him today, as it might have in the past. All he could think about was what would happen to him if Caite McCallan wasn’t taken care of.
She’d remember his name. He’d be taken into custody. His clients would learn of his arrest and they’d be pissed and, more than that, they’d be afraid of what he’d tell the authorities. He was as good as dead if he didn’t get to Caite first. Chambers knew the kinds of connections the people he worked with had. They wouldn’t have any trouble making sure he couldn’t talk. He’d be dead within twenty-four hours of that bitch spilling her guts.
Damn Caite McCallan! This was all her fault!
Different scenarios—from walking up to her apartment, knocking on the door and blowing her face off when she answered, to pulling up next to her at a stoplight and shooting her—ran through his mind.
He needed to get her alone. Wanted to make sure she knew dying was all on her. That he hadn’t wanted to go to these extremes, and it wasn’t personal. If she didn’t know French, none of this would be happening. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.
