The Stripper and the SEAL

by Jenna Bennett

  Tansy shook her head. “These guys saved my life. Not just once, but several times. And because of that, now I have John. And I’m happier than I could have imagined I could be. If there’s anything I can do for any of them, I’m happy to do it.”

  “We appreciate it,” Gabrielle said, even as the door opened again. The SEAL Max called JB and Tansy called John stood in the opening. Tansy lit up. There was no other word for it. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside her. She beamed.

  Gabrielle watched as she jumped up and ran toward the door. John caught her and held her for a moment, and they looked so happy to be together that Gabrielle had to look away and swallow the lump in her throat.

  By the time she looked back, they were gone. She turned her attention back to the TV, just in time to catch a breaking news bulletin. “Our correspondent Allison Winter is on the scene in Boise.”

  She straightened as Allison, a toothy blonde, did her best to look sober in front of the camera, but couldn’t quite manage to hide her glee at having a scoop from her tiny backwater in Idaho. “This is Allison Winter, on the scene in Boise, where overnight, shots were fired in the affluent enclave of Garden Grove. Two people were shot during what police describe as a professionally executed home invasion.”

  She paused to draw breath, or perhaps to give the juicy details an extra second to marinate. “Federal judge Alastair Collins woke up in the middle of the night to a masked man standing over him. The judge is currently in Boise General Hospital, in critical condition. Mrs. Collins, who was sharing the bed with her husband, is also in Boise Hospital, but in stable condition. Both were shot with a small caliber handgun, Mrs. Collins in the shoulder, and Judge Collins in the back, when he rolled over in an attempt to shield his wife.”

  She paused again, and this time it really was to breathe, since she’d gotten the whole previous paragraph out in a single breath. “The police say there were three intruders, all dressed in black and with ski masks covering their faces. Witnesses say the intruders spoke to each other in a foreign language. The police have not ruled out an act of terrorism.”

  She looked positively gleeful as she signed off. “This is Allison Winter reporting from Boise General Hospital. Back to you in the studio, Brett.”

  And Brett, the DC reporter who had probably never heard of, let alone met Allison Winter before now, arranged his handsome face in sober folds. “That was Allison Winter, reporting from our sister station in Boise, Idaho.”

  Let’s have a round of applause for Allison.

  Gabrielle leaned back in the seat, head spinning, as Brett went on to other news. What happened in tiny Boise, even when it was the shooting of a federal judge and his wife in a botched home invasion by possible terrorists, paled in comparison to the latest scandal rocking the political world of Washington.

  How could this have happened?

  She’d been so sure Alex and his cohorts would hold off on taking out the judge blocking Trent’s way to the court. It didn’t make any sense for them to do it now. Not with her out here, able to rat them out.

  Not that she could prove anything, of course. It was her word against theirs. And they could probably bring all sorts of witnesses to explain why she couldn’t be trusted. Alex fired her for stealing. Trent dumped her. Or never slept with her in the first place. It was all in her mind. She was obsessed with him, and when he turned her down, she wanted revenge.

  They might even find a way to implicate her in the home invasion in Boise. She didn’t see how, off-hand, when she’d been in Little Creek with Max, but then she didn’t know what sort of things they could find to say about Max. He was a Navy SEAL. Someone who put his life on the line for his country. A hero. Would they be able to twist that into something? Hatred for the United States? Or a clandestine operation gone south?

  But he was also Russian. If Alex swore that Max worked for him, would Max be able to prove that he didn’t?

  Her mind was going a million miles a minute, so fast that she didn’t hear the door open again. It wasn’t until a shadow fell over her, that she realized someone had come in. “Gabrielle?”

  She jumped, and for a second the tall, broad figure in front of her wasn’t anyone she knew. The man she’d driven here with this morning had been ready to work out. The man who’d come back to the house yesterday afternoon, after working out, had been sweaty and dirty and sandy and tired. Neither man bore any resemblance to the vision in gleaming white who stood in front of her.

  It took her a second to get her eyes to focus. “Oh. Wow.”

  He grinned. “The dress whites get’em every time.”

  ‘Them’ being women, Gabrielle assumed. It was easy to see why. He was a good-looking guy in cargo pants and a T-shirt. He was breathtaking in nothing at all—or so she assumed from seeing him with his shirt off, since that was as close to naked as he’d gotten.

  But in this dazzling uniform, with rows of insignia and medals, he looked amazing.

  “The commander wants to meet you,” he told her, and held out a hand. “I told him what you told me, about Trent Engelhart and Alex and the rest of it.”

  And the commander still wanted to meet her?

  She put her hand in Max’s and let him pull her to her feet. “There’s a federal judge and his wife in the hospital in Boise. The news just had a report.”

  He nodded. “The commander heard about it before it hit the news. He wants to talk to you.”

  He kept hold of her hand as he headed toward the door. And since the contact was comforting, and Gabrielle could use all the comfort and support she could get, she let him.

  9

  Commander Baker was another good-looking guy, in his early forties. Like Trent, he had let his hair go gray. Unlike Trent, he was in amazing shape for his age.

  All right, so she’d told Max that Trent’s ass wasn’t wrinkled. It wasn’t entirely true. If she had to be truthful about it, Trent didn’t have much of an ass anymore. Any muscle tone he’d had was pretty much gone. He worked out to keep his weight in check, but he wasn’t in the kind of shape that Commander Baker was.

  The commander was nice and polite. If Max had told him that Gabrielle was a stripper, he didn’t let it show. He didn’t let his eyes drift below her chin, if it came to that.

  He wasn’t alone in the room. John and Tansy had left, and so had anyone else who’d been there. All except for Max, the Asian SEAL she’d seen at the FUBAR, and another SEAL she’d only seen in passing last night. He was almost as tall as Max, almost as broad, and between them, the shorter Asian SEAL looked small, although he was taller than Gabrielle.

  He was introduced as Chief Lee, and the taller SEAL as Chief Gustavsson. “We understand you may have some information about the attack on Judge Collins and his wife,” Commander Baker said, and leaned back in his seat.

  Gabrielle glanced at Max. “I told them what you told me,” he told her. “They want to hear it from you. And in more detail. You didn’t give me more than the bare bones.”

  “I’m not sure I have more than bare bones to give.” But she took a breath and launched into it. “We were in Trent’s apartment. He keeps one in DC for when he’s in town.”

  “Trent Engelhart,” the SEAL named Gustavsson said.

  Gabrielle nodded. “The senator from Idaho. He spends a week or so in DC every month. It makes sense for him to have his own place.”

  “Helps with the privacy issues, too,” Gustavsson said mildly.

  Gabrielle gave him a look, and so did Max, but Gustavsson didn’t say anything else.

  “Someone came to the door,” Gabrielle continued. “It was late. I’d been asleep, but the doorbell woke me up.” Let them read whatever they wanted into that. It would be the truth. “Trent got up and told me he’d take care of it. That he was expecting a message, and I should just go back to sleep.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “It was late,” Gabrielle said. “I thought it was a strange time to get a message. And by then I was awak
e.”

  “So you listened in.”

  She flushed. “I was curious, OK?”

  Max reached over and took her hand. It wasn’t until he did it that she realized she was rubbing them together. “Nobody’s blaming you. We’d all have done the same.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Chief Lee said, but Gustavsson grinned.

  “You’re not in any trouble,” Commander Baker assured her. “We just want to know what you heard.”

  “Not much. They were talking. Trent—Judge Engelhart—and Alex. My boss at the… um… club.” She stole a glance at Max. He was still holding her hand. She didn’t know whether it was deliberate or whether he'd just forgotten that he had it.

  “Sasha’s,” Commander Baker nodded. “Chief Lee?”

  “Aleksandr Volkov,” Lee said. He had a small computer open on his lap. “No criminal record. A couple of citations for speeding. And a strong whiff of Russian mafia about him. Nothing’s ever been proven, but there are a lot of open inquiries.”

  “There’s a case coming up in federal court in Idaho sometime this year,” Gabrielle said. “They were talking about it. Someone couldn’t be trusted to vote in their favor. But if whoever it was, was gone, Trent could take his place.”

  “The implication being that Trent Engelhart would vote in their favor?”

  Gabrielle nodded. “They didn’t say that, but it was implied.”

  “Did they mention Alastair Collins? Or anyone else?”

  They hadn’t. “I didn’t hear any names,” Gabrielle said apologetically.

  “How did Engelhart react?” This came from Chief Gustavsson, who added, “I’m from Idaho. That makes this personal.”

  “I don’t think it was the first time they’d talked about it,” Gabrielle told him, apologetically. “But I don’t think he realized they were planning to kill somebody. I got the impression that he was onboard with voting their way if it came down to it, but he didn’t expect it to come down to it. Until Alex started talking about paving the way.”

  “So Judge Engelhart didn’t realize they were talking about murder.”

  “By the end of the conversation,” Gabrielle said, “he did.”

  “How did he take it?”

  How had he taken it? “I was listening through the door. I didn’t hear everything and I didn’t see anything. I got the impression that he was shocked at first. That maybe he even objected. But Alex said something about me, and about Trent’s wife…”

  She flushed and looked down. Max squeezed her hand. It looked very small in his. Small and pale and soft compared to the ruggedness of his. He had scars across his knuckles, and even his palm was rough against hers.

  “Alex threatened to do harm to Judge Engelhart’s wife?” Commander Baker asked.

  Gabrielle squirmed. “I’m not sure that was it. He might have just threatened to tell Mrs. Engelhart about me.”

  Nobody said anything for a moment.

  “So Alex put some pressure on Judge Engelhart,” Commander Baker translated, without spelling out any of the indelicate details, “and Engelhart went along with the plan to get rid of a federal judge to pave the way for him onto the federal court.”

  “That’s the way it sounded.”

  “But no names were used.”

  Gabrielle shook her head.

  “It’s gotta be Judge Collins, though,” Gustavsson said. “It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. Alex Volkov and Trent Engelhart talk about doing away with a federal judge so Engelhart can take his place, and a couple of days later, a federal judge in Idaho is shot and almost killed. By people speaking a foreign language. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “It’s too soon to say conclusively that it isn’t,” Commander Baker said, and added, when Gustavsson opened her mouth to argue, “but I agree with you. You probably know some people in Boise?”

  Gustavsson nodded.

  “Get in touch with them. Tell them what we know. Offer them any help they need. Go there yourself if you have to. If anybody can find these guys, you can.”

  “Permission to bring backup?” Gustavsson asked.

  “Lieutenant Vasiliev has to stay here,” Baker told him. “Russell has a week of trauma training scheduled to start soon. You can coordinate with Lee over the phone. Walton…”

  “I was thinking of Cisco,” Gustavsson said. “God knows none of us wanna take John-Boy away from Virginia right now.”

  Or away from Tansy Leighton.

  “If we’re called up, we go,” Baker said. “But there’s no sense in pulling him in otherwise. You and Marin work well together. Find out if they want your help, then brief him and get your gear together. Let me know if I have to find you a ride out that way.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Gustavsson looked less than thrilled about the idea. “We can fly coach if need be.”

  Baker grinned. “Oh, I’m sure someone in the armed forces has a transport going in that direction. I’ll let you know. Dismissed.”

  Gustavsson saluted and headed out. Max stayed, so the dismissal must not have included him. Or her.

  “Talk to Lee,” Commander Baker told her. “Tell him about Alex Volkov’s organization. Anything you can think of. If those were his people doing the job in Idaho, we need to find a thread to tug.”

  Gabrielle nodded.

  “Use my office.” Baker got to his feet, and nodded to Max. “You’re with me.”

  Gabrielle had her mouth open to protest—he couldn’t take Max away from her!—but she thought better of it when Max shot her a look. “Yes, sir.”

  If he was OK with it, she guessed she had to be, too. And she’d be safe here, with Chief Lee to protect her.

  Compared to the much taller Max, Chief Gustavsson, and even Commander Baker, Lee looked short. He wasn’t. He was under six feet, but not by a whole lot. Five-ten, maybe five-nine-and-a-half. No shrimp. And while he was more wiry than Max, he filled out his… what had Max called the uniform? Dress whites?… quite nicely.

  And his hair was reassuring. It stood straight up, like he’d been running his fingers through it. Altogether, he had the look of a very buff, absentminded genius.

  “Tell me about the people you can remember from your boss’s organization,” he told her, the small laptop humming in his hands.

  Gabrielle shot a last look at the door where Max and Commander Baker had disappeared, and told him everything she could remember.

  * * *

  “You know what we have to do?” Commander Baker asked Max outside in the fresh air.

  Max had a feeling he knew what Baker was getting at, and he knew he didn’t like it. He decided to play stupid. “Sir?”

  “Gustavsson and Marin are going to Idaho,” Baker said. “If the gunmen are still there, Gustavsson will find them.”

  No question. Gus was the best tracker Max had ever worked with, and not only because he could track someone through a wilderness by the broken twigs and bent grass they left behind. He was pretty damn adept at tracking someone through an urban landscape by tuning into the thoughts in their heads, too.

  Not that there was anything spooky about it. Or only in the sense that it was so often accurate, that it seemed a little like magic. But Gus had explained that it was just a matter of putting himself in the position of the person he was tracking, and thinking the way they thought. By becoming them, he figured out what they’d do next, and did it. With that kind of ability—and a very handsome face—he could have been a hell of an actor. Max could only be grateful that Gus had no aspirations in that regard, since Hollywood’s loss was Alpha Squad’s gain.

  “But Alex Volkov is still here in the east,” Baker added. “So are… what did you call them? Sergei and Yuri?”

  Max nodded.

  “Volkov is the one giving the orders. If we catch his henchmen in Idaho, they may roll on him, but it isn’t likely.”

  Max shook his head. No, not likely at all. Look at what had happened to Oksana when she’d cooperated with police back in Brighton Be
ach. The Bratva trained their operatives to keep quiet or deal with the consequences, and the consequences weren’t pretty.

  “I expect the same would be true for Sergei and Yuri,” Baker said, making the sentence something halfway between a question and a statement.

  Max nodded. “I think so, sir.” Although it would certainly make things easier to have them out of the picture. Temporarily, at least. “I should have just finished the job last night.”

  “While I’m sure that would have given you satisfaction,” Baker said, “you can’t go around indiscriminately killing people.”

  Perhaps not. But— “There were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Be that as it may,” Baker said, “it’s a lost opportunity. But I think you’re right. We should take them out of the equation. I expect you can figure out a way to achieve that.”

  Max sighed. “Yes, sir. You want me to stake Gabrielle out as bait.”

  “I wouldn’t put it in quite those terms,” Baker said.

  “What other terms are there? You want to use her to grab Sergei and Yuri, and put them out of commission for a while. And once they’re out of the way, you want her to go back to DC and knock on Alex’s door, and get him to admit to what’s going on so someone,” someone with more authority than them; Max figured it would be the FBI or maybe Homeland Security, “can swoop in and arrest him. And as many members of his organization as possible.”

  “They wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” Baker said.

  Max wished he could believe that.

  Oh, he knew that the FBI, or Homeland Security, or even the DC police, wouldn’t deliberately allow anything to happen to Gabrielle. They’d protect her as well as they could—and their best was probably pretty good. But her safety wouldn’t be their number one concern. They’d be more focused on catching Alex. And in circumstances like that, sometimes shit happened. All it would take were a few seconds of inattention on someone’s part, and she’d be dead. One well-placed bullet, and she was history.

  “What is this girl to you?” Baker wanted to know, and Max came back to himself.