“Appreciate the offer.” Silas held up his free hand, a slight twitch to his lips. “But I was talking hypothetically. Could someone do it?”
“Oh.” Archer took another swig of beer and shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Robbing is the easy part, it’s getting out that could prove tricky. Why? Has there been chatter?”
“Yes, involving the FRB.” Silas flipped the cap off his longneck and finally took a pull.
Archer waited for the man to continue, because his sixth sense told him there was most definitely more. And the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he was not going to like it. But after silence stretched for over thirty seconds, he raised a brow. “And why are you telling me instead of the F.B.I.?”
“Because we don’t know if this impending threat is to rob it or blow it up.”
Shit.
Unlike his firefighting father and brother, Archer had lived through the last time someone leveled a building in the city in which he grew up. He’d been home on leave, visiting his family in the Big Apple on 9/11, and scars from the gut-crushing massacre of that day never left him.
“You in?”
“Oh, hell, yeah. I’m in.” There would not be another massacre in NYC.
Not on his watch.
Silas gave a curt nod. “You can to put together a team, as big or as small as you want, to uncover the identity of these rogue bastards and take them down.”
“Done.” He already had two former military locals in mind. They worked out of Atlantic City for the Knight Agency, run by his former SEAL buddy, Jameson Knight.
“Good, because there’s someone from DHS that I want on the team. She works out of our New York office, and is one hell of an investigator/analyst. She used to work for the D.A.” Silas was staring at him as if waiting for a reaction.
“Okay...if you’re recommending her, then she’s got to be good.” The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’ve yet to tell me?”
“She’s a Navy SEAL mom, so I’m glad you’re going to take point on this mission, because I can trust you to protect her.”
Mother of a SEAL...
His mind immediately jumped to a mother of a froglet under his command three years ago. A widow with honey blonde hair, bright blue eyes, warm smile, great wit...he’d felt an instant connection, and intentionally kept his distance.
In all his years in the Navy, she was the only family of the team to ever spark his interest. Other than hearing she was a widow, he’d intentionally gone out of his way not to find out anything else about her. Christ, his attraction to the woman and the fact she was single turned her twice as dangerous, so he’d made damn sure they were never alone whenever she came down to Virginia to visit her son.
It hadn’t stopped his attraction, but it had stopped him from acting on it.
No reason to even think about her now. This wasn’t her. There were plenty of SEAL mothers out there.
Still, that sinking feeling in the pit of Archer’s stomach grew larger. “Who is she?”
“Sandy Vickers.”
Son-of-a-fucking-bitch...it was her.
Chapter Two
Archer did his best to hold his reaction in check, despite the uptick in his pulse. He’d just agreed to work closely with a woman he was attracted to—who was also the mother of one of his former SEALs. A woman whose gaze had held interest whenever she’d looked at him. Damn...that was more than double trouble. It was a triple threat...unless, perhaps she’d remarried since he’d retired and been out of the loop. That was a line he’d never cross.
If she had a husband, he’d have no problem being around the beauty, other than dealing with the tightening going on in his chest at the thought of another man with the woman who starred in his secret fantasies. The one with the ability to disrupt his heartbeat with her mere presence. At the moment, though, none of that mattered.
Since Archer knew Silas was aware of the last team of SEALs he’d commanded, he lifted a brow and kept his emotions out of it. “Sandy Vickers? My froglet—Brian Vickers’ mom?”
Silas nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I chose you to lead this mission. I knew you’d want to have his six. Well...his mother’s six.”
Refusing to allow his mind or body to think about having Sandy’s delectable six, he nodded and changed the focus. “Let’s circle back to the subject of the F.B.I.”
“A’ight.”
“The threat of a bomb or theft at the Federal Reserve Bank still falls under their jurisdiction,” he said. “They aren’t going to try to get in my lane, are they?”
The last thing he needed was to step on government toes or to have his own stepped on. He washed away the bitter taste that thought left in his mouth with the last of his beer.
Silas shook his head. “They won’t be involved at all. DHS got the green light to run this operation through me because chatter also suggests the possibility that the threat could be from the same ghost, rogue bastards responsible for the Munich bombings five years ago.”
Archer stiffened, and his heart rocked in his chest as images of the carnage and destruction of that fateful October afternoon flashed through his head. He could still hear sirens and wailing, see the mangled bodies of the innocent tourists buried beneath rubble and debris from a brew house and a museum bombed by a jihad faction before his team and Silas’ team had arrived. The SEALs had been sent in too late to stop the terrorists and save the hostages, and to this day, no one knew what the people responsible looked like. The group had knocked out surveillance cameras around the area and walked in and out without witnesses.
“So, if it is them,” Silas continued, “I want someone in charge who understands what they’re capable of and won’t underestimate the threat.”
Archer nodded, tossing his empty bottle in the nearby trash bin. “Roger that.” Those bastards won’t slip away again.
“But it isn’t confirmed the chatter is from them,” Silas said. “Let’s head back.” He pointed toward shore with his bottle. “We have an appointment with Ms. Vickers at her office in ninety minutes to see if she’s uncovered anything else since my video conference with her yesterday.”
A ripple infiltrated Archer’s pulse.
There was so much wrong with that unsettling statement, he didn’t know where to start. The fact Silas referred to Sandy as Ms. Vickers meant she had not remarried. He ignored the relief rushing through his body. That was a danger he had to avoid.
He cocked his head and raised a brow again. “You were that sure I’d say yes?”
A slight smile tugged the man’s lips while he lifted a shoulder. “Absolutely.”
Branson always was a good judge of people. But his travel time estimate was a little off.
“You’ll have to call her and tell her we’re going to be late,” he said. “There’s no way we can drive to New York City in less than two and a half hours.”
Especially with midday traffic.
Now Silas cocked his head and raised a brow. “Who said we were driving?”
A grin tugged his lips. “Hooyah! I like the way you do business.”
Although, now, it meant he had less than two hours to prepare himself for a face-to-face with forbidden temptation. Straightening his shoulders, he flipped the engine switch and took them back to the marina, determined to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.
Too many lives were at stake.
New York City was at stake.
His body and its prohibited needs were unimportant.
Which he reminded himself seventy minutes later as he and Silas rode in an otherwise empty elevator at DHS’s NYC headquarters, ascending closer and closer toward a reunion he both dreaded and anticipated with equal fervor.
Christ, he was a SEAL, for fuck’s sake. Retired or not, he’d always be a SEAL, and SEALs were not weak. He was in full control of his body and his actions, and he was not going to do a damn thing about his so-called attraction to one of his teamma
tes. Hell, he hadn’t seen the woman in well over a year...nearly two. He might not find her attractive now. It could’ve just been that forbidden shit that held the appeal.
Yeah...he nodded to himself, feeling calmer. Centered.
Now that Brian Vickers was no longer under his command, that family off-limits code technically didn’t come into play—although to Archer, it would never go away. Still, it meant the attraction was no longer exactly forbidden. Perhaps that appeal had lessened too.
Bullshit.
It was stronger after reading through her file and the mission report file Silas handed him on the ride over. Despite somehow not feeling right about it, he had no choice but to read her personal file. It was normal procedure to know everything about everyone on the team he commanded and even though Sandy was exceptional, she was not an exception to that rule.
The woman had gone through a lot in her life. She was a wife and mother at age eighteen. A SEAL widow at age twenty-one. Worked as a secretary in the D.A.’s office before becoming an investigator, all while she put herself through college when Brian was school age. Obtained a BS in Homeland Security with a concentration in Intelligence. Was headhunted several times by the CIA and DHS. She chose DHS, but was currently working jointly with the CIA on this overseas chatter.
All of that information only increased her appeal.
Dammit.
“Still not a fan of elevators?” Silas asked, reminding him of their location, his buddy’s gaze intent, missing nothing.
Just like the man’s memory. He was no doubt referring to a joint mission over a decade ago, where Archer had been in an elevator in the basement of a building when a bomb detonated, trapping him and five others for over twelve hours. He’d been unable to save them all, and for a time, it had eaten away at him, but counseling, for the most part, had helped.
Still, if he admitted that, it would lay open for debate why he was on edge and confessing to raging hormones was not going to happen. So, he shrugged and kept things as truthful as possible. “I prefer open spaces.”
Silas nodded, while a frown wrinkled his brow. “I’m guessing your boat is an exception? The living area below looked luxurious, but not exactly roomy.”
“True.” He smiled. “It’s why I leave the doors open, so the outside is visible.” Although, more often than not, he just rolled out a sleeping bag and slept on deck.
The elevator slowed to a stop and dinged for a second before the doors opened to their destination. As if in silent agreement, they ended their casual conversation, straightened their posture and strode to the reception area of that floor with their game faces on.
Most of the men and women in the building wore dress clothes. It proved his decision to take the time to stop at his place and change out of his boat-cleaning apparel before proceeding to the airport had been a good one. There was no need to impress anyone. The job was his, so he hadn’t donned a monkey suit like his buddy, but he had put on a clean pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt. Good enough for a meet-n-greet and to get the job started.
Before they even got to the desk, a man with thinning hair, glasses and a ready smile came around front with his hand out. “Mr. Branson, I’m Sandy’s boss, Dave Webster. Nice to meet you in person,” the man said, shaking Silas’ hand, then turning to him. “You must be Mr. Malone.” They shook hands before the man motioned toward a hallway on the right. “Please, follow me. Sandy’s waiting for you in one of the conference rooms.”
He fell into step alongside Silas, more than ready to get the initial reunion out of the way so he could get down to business. But the instant he entered the conference room, he knew he was fucked.
Sandy Vickers had changed, all right. She’d become even more alluring.
Her honey blonde hair was pulled back and secured into some kind of bun that was probably meant to appear severe but only managed to look sexy. Same went for the reading glasses she pulled off her face and tossed on the table as she rose to her feet. Her white top and black skirt hugged her hourglass curves. Add that to the black heels on her feet and his body tightened favorably in response to the naughty librarian look she had going on.
Yeah, he was fucked...big time.
“...to see you in person,” she was saying, shaking Silas’ hand next to him.
He inhaled slowly and worked to push the fog from his brain, before she stepped in front of him and smiled. Her eyes...damn...they were even bluer than he’d remembered, and the color flooding her cheeks only deepened the shade...and his attraction to the woman.
Dammit.
“Commander Malone, so nice to see you again,” she said, extending her hand. “It’s been awhile.”
The instant his hand closed over hers to shake it, a strange current passed through him. She must’ve experienced it too, because he felt her still for a beat, and her gaze widened.
“Nice to see you again, too, Ms. Vickers,” he said after a quick recovery, then found himself reluctant to release her—but did—knowing it would raise brows, especially with his boss eyeing him closely.
“Please, call me Sandy,” she offered.
“Then call me Archer,” he respectfully countered.
She smiled up at him. “Okay, Archer.”
The combination of that beautiful, open smile and the sound of his name on her lips, knocked the wind out of him.
Christ...his chest felt as if he were back in that crushed elevator, struggling for air. But in a good way, if there was such a thing. Pushing it from his mind, he returned her smile and nodded, with his mouth shut. If he opened it, he was liable to do something unorthodox and stupid...like ask her out on a date.
The woman was beautiful, smart, compassionate, and now he had to add that damn current into the mix?
This job had just gotten a whole hell of a lot more difficult.
Chapter Three
If there was a gene for perseverance, then Sandy Vickers was born with an oversized one. When life threw her curveballs—and it had thrown her several—she swung away at them, and swung hard. Which was exactly what she planned to do in her present predicament. The handsome, six-foot-two-inch curveball life saw fit to toss into her path would require mega-doses of perseverance for Sandy to keep her attraction to the guy from interfering with her assignment.
She’d worked too damn hard to get where she was today to screw things up by going all soft-brained and tripping over her tongue because the SEAL in charge was too gorgeous for her own good.
But it was more than his lean, muscular body, salt-n-pepper hair, mesmerizing gray eyes, and dimpled smile she found attractive. It was his can-do attitude, his quiet strength, his willingness to lend others a hand—all things she’d witnessed during visits with her Navy SEAL son when Brian had been assigned to Commander Malone’s team, fresh out of BUD/S training.
Although she hadn’t talked to Archer all that much during her visits, she’d been unable to stop herself from people-watching him. It was her hobby and part of her job, and she’d silently noted the way others treated him with respect and valued his opinion and...okay, the way he turned women’s heads. Women of all ages, shapes, and races. She’d witnessed several of them come onto him, but he’d always gently detangle himself from their grasp or politely refuse their propositions.
The only time she’d seen distaste sour his expression was when the wife of another commander had cornered him during a family function. Compelled to help the man who helped others, Sandy found herself unable to stand by, so she’d tapped the woman on the shoulder and informed her that her husband had been looking for her. A lie, but she hadn’t hesitated to spout it to get the woman to leave.
Unwilling to dissect her motivation behind that move, she’d chalked it up as her way of showing the man respect. But when she’d thought she’d seen interest momentarily flare behind those gorgeous gray eyes of his, her mind had literally blanked. No brain activity at all, just a warm, tingly numbness, and it forced her to admit she felt more than respect for the guy.
Kind of like now.
The tingly numbness was present, but her brain activity was not...except where he was concerned. Damn, he looked good in civilian clothes, too. It was the first time she’d seen him in something other than a uniform. Jeans were made for a man like Archer. That was all the attention to detail she was giving his lower half, if she wanted to hang on to some of her brain cells, which she did, although his upper half was lethal, too. His muscle definition wasn’t hidden under the thin material of the black, button-down shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. The way it outlined the sexy taper of his lean torso made her mouth water. His abs were flat, and she knew—she knew—they had to be ridged, and wondered...
She blinked and inhaled and fought past the brain fog. Get a grip, Sandra, she silently berated. And she was not going to think about gripping the man in front of her. No, she was not. But the strange awareness that had jolted her body to life during their handshake had been too interesting to ignore. She vowed to worry about it when she was alone later.
Now was time for work.
Luckily, Mr. Webster hadn’t noticed her flustered state. He smiled at everyone and nodded toward the table. “Shall we get started?”
As Sandy retraced her steps back to her seat, she discovered distance from Archer equaled brain activity. Thankfully...since her brain was her livelihood, and the reason she was given this assignment.
“I know we had a video conference with you yesterday, Mr. Branson,” her boss said, sitting next to her and across from Archer. “Do we need to go over things again for Mr. Malone?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Archer replied. “He’s already brought me up to speed.”
Silas took the seat on his right and stared across the table at her and Dave, and it wasn’t lost on Sandy that she faced two handsome, capable—formidable—retired SEAL commanders. “Has there been any new chatter?”
SEAL in Charge Page 2
