by Elle James
“Did Delgado talk? Did he tell Hector who sold him the guns?”
“Not a chance.” Tracie yawned again and buried her cheek against his side. “Hank will let us know what he finds on the phone.”
“Anything else interesting in the briefcase or on my penlight camera?”
“Delgado had a plane ticket and US passport under another name. Hank and his team back in Texas are going over the data.”
When Rip opened his mouth to ask another question, Tracie pressed her finger to his lips. “Hank will call when he knows anything. I’ve told you everything. Now get some rest and regenerate all that blood you lost. We’re not done yet, and I’m tired.”
He lay still for a while, his good arm curled around Tracie, holding her close. Before long her deep, even breaths blew warm air against his skin. She’d fallen to sleep, wearing that damned teddy and pressing her breasts to his ribs. He was in pain from more than just his shoulder, but he wouldn’t wake her. She’d been through as much as he had that day. She needed to sleep.
If Hank’s techie was half as good as Tracie said, he’d get something off that cell phone or glean something from the data found in the briefcase.
In the meantime, he would enjoy the moment, holding Tracie as if there would be no tomorrow, only today. And with Tracie, that could be true.
He was out of ideas or ways to convince her that their relationship was worth making the effort for. But he wasn’t giving up yet. They had until they resolved this case. He’d take all he could get.
Exhaustion claimed him and he slept, dreaming about explosions, firefights and losing sight of Tracie in the confusion. No matter which way he turned, he couldn’t find her. The fire burned high, creeping closer until he saw her standing with her back to the flames, nothing but a faceless silhouette. She reached out to him, but he couldn’t quite touch her hand. Just as the fire swept over her, he felt as though his heart would explode, his pulse pounding so hard he heard ringing in his ears.
The ringing continued, growing lower until he surfaced from the dream.
Beside him, Tracie leaned over to the nightstand and made a grab for the satellite phone, knocking it to the floor. She rolled over.
Before he could catch her, she tumbled off the bed, landing on her knees on the carpeted floor, fumbling with the phone until it stopped ringing.
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked as she sat cross-legged. She listened for a moment, pushing her hair back from her face. “Sounds like an excellent place to start...Good...We’ll be on it.” She ended the call and glanced up at Rip. “The plane will be here in less than an hour. Are you up to flying?”
Rip sat up and shoved the sheet aside. He was lightheaded and his arm was sore, but he could move. “Where are we headed?”
“Virginia.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tracie stared out over the wing of the Citation as it took off from Hector’s grass landing strip.
Carlos and Julio stayed with Hector’s team of guards, providing ground support and protection as the airplane rolled down the runway and launched into the sky over the Honduran jungle. Once in the air at a decent cruising altitude, Tracie tapped into the satellite Wi-Fi and connected a live video feed into the Raging Bull Ranch.
Hank Derringer’s face filled the screen.
“No problems getting out of the country?” he asked.
“None,” Tracie responded. “Hector and his men were invaluable in their support.”
“I knew he would be. He’s a good man. It’s a shame about his family.”
An image flashed in her mind of the portrait hanging in the hallway in Hector’s hacienda. She was glad the Diablos had been crippled by their intel-gathering operation. Anyone who would gun down a six-year-old or condone their men firing on a child was worse than an animal. The leader of the Diablos deserved no mercy. But as much as Tracie would have loved to let Hector deal with Delgado, the US government would need to interrogate him.
“As I said earlier, Brandon was able to trace the phone numbers on the cell phone. Most of them were to a disposable phone that was purchased in Virginia. The purchaser used a fake ID and listed a bogus address.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re headed to Virginia.” Tracie said.
Hank grinned. “Fortunately, one of the phone numbers was from a cell phone registered to a Belinda Tate who lives in Alexandria, Virginia. The call didn’t last long, only five seconds.”
“So why is this Tate woman important?” Rip stood behind Tracie, leaning over so that Hank could see his face on the screen.
She could feel the heat from his body and smell the clean, fresh scent of his aftershave. A thrill rippled the length of her spine and out across her skin in goose bumps.
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “She might not be important, but her husband, Vance, is. He works at the Blackburn Gun Manufacturing plant outside of Alexandria.”
Tracie sat forward, all thoughts of how good it felt to have Rip leaning over her pushed to the back of her mind. “But the weapons at that terrorist training camp looked exactly like M4A1s they issue to soldiers in the US Army. If I’m not mistaken, Blackburn isn’t the manufacturer that makes them.”
“And there are plenty of knockoffs,” Hank said. “I need you two to infiltrate Blackburn, find out if they are making knockoffs and supplying the weapons. If they are, find out who authorized it.”
“From what I saw in that camp, those weapons were the real McCoy, not knockoffs. But their manufacturing plates had been ground off and the stock had been repainted.”
“Perhaps that’s what Blackburn has been doing. It’s up to you two to find out. And, if that’s what’s happening, we also need to find out how they’re getting the guns. Brandon hasn’t found any records in their system indicating shipments from the usual government supplier.”
“Which means they aren’t getting them legally,” Tracie concluded.
“Exactly. Let me know what you find and if you need backup.” Hank signed off, leaving Rip and Tracie staring at the screen.
“How do you propose we get into Blackburn?” Tracie asked. “Think we could try to sneak in at night?”
Rip shook his head. “They will have that place covered in surveillance cameras.”
Tracie tapped a finger to her lip. “We could disable the cameras...”
Rip’s gaze locked on the point where her finger touched her lip, his eyes flaring. He swallowed before he answered, “We’d have to find them first.”
Tracie’s pulse quickened at the way Rip was staring at her lip, and she dropped her hand to her lap. Having him so close and not touching him was hard enough as it was. They had a job to do and the four-or five-hour flight gave them ample time to plan their attack. “How do we get in to check them out?”
Rip’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Mrs. Gideon, it’s time to arm the security staff around your six-million-dollar home in Costa Rica.”
Tracie’s brows arrowed into a tight V. “What six-million-dollar home?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Rip answered, “The one we need to buy arms to protect.” He nodded toward the computer. “For a start, we need a home. Do you mind?”
Tracie scooted over one seat and let Rip have the helm of the computer.
His fingers tapped the keyboard, bringing up a search engine to find real estate in Costa Rica. “What kind of home would you like?”
“I don’t care.”
After another call to Hank, giving him the bare-bones of their plan, they spent the next hour, combing through high-end homes. Tracie was amazed at how similar their tastes were in the home they finally settled on. It almost made her feel as though they were actually selecting a home they could live in.
She sighed. “It’s a beautiful home and who wouldn’t love to own it?”
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p; “It’s okay, if you have that kind of money. And it’s great for our pretend home.” He downloaded pictures to the computer and sent them to his cell phone. “It’s a good start to consult with a firm about setting up security cameras and arming it with the kinds of weapons we’d need to deter thieves.”
“You know, even if I had the money to own something like that, it’s still too big.” Tracie shrugged. “I’d much rather have a small cabin in the mountains with a stone fireplace.”
“I’ve always loved the Colorado Rockies. I can picture that cabin perched on a hillside with large picture windows, overlooking a mountain valley.”
“Flowers in the spring and summer, and snow-covered in the winter.” Tracie smiled. “I grew up in West Texas. It’s arid and hot there.”
“I grew up in Illinois farmland,” Rip said. “Not many hills there. Lots of snow, but no mountains. I’ve always wanted to live where there were mountains.”
“But you’re a SEAL.” Tracie shook her head. “I thought SEALs loved being around the water.”
“No doubt about it. I do. But I love the mountains, too.” He frowned. “It doesn’t matter. I belong to the Navy until I retire or get out.”
Tracie sighed. Playing make-believe with Rip was a self-defeating effort. “We do what we have to do and go where we’re needed.”
“I live where I have to live, because I’m in the military. With you, the sky’s the limit. You have choices.”
“I work for Hank. I go where he wants me to go.”
“But if you wanted, you could live where you wanted to live and deploy from there to where Hank needs you to go.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to follow a man around the world. My work is just as important to me. I don’t ever want to be dependent on a man for my income or identity.”
“No one gets that more than I do.” Rip cupped her cheek. “I never said I’d expect any woman I was involved with to give up her life to follow me.”
“No? But that’s what would happen if you wanted any time together when you’re not deployed.”
Rip’s brows drew together. “The personal life of a SEAL is not an easy one. The woman who chooses to get involved with one needs to be independent and ready to handle anything. When we deploy, we don’t know if we’re coming back, much less on our own two feet or in a body bag.”
Tracie’s chest clenched and her eyes stung. “All the more reason not to get involved with a frogman, if you ask me.” Tracie swallowed hard. “What woman would want to sit around twiddling her thumbs waiting for someone to show up on her doorstep announcing her man was dead?”
Rip smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “What about you? You work in a dangerous job. You could be killed by whatever bad guy you’re trying to nail for Hank.”
“Yeah, but I don’t expect a man to stay at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for me to throw a few crumbs of attention and affection his way when I’m home. He’d get bored and go looking for a woman willing to satisfy his needs. I don’t want that for either of us.”
“Because you had one bad experience with a jerk who took advantage of your affection, doesn’t mean you should give up on all of us.” He kissed her again. “On me. You don’t know what you’re going to get out of love until you give it a chance.”
“And you’re asking me to give you a chance? A man who could come back from a mission in a body bag?” Her words caught on a sob that she choked back.
“No, I’m asking you to give me a chance to see if what we’re feeling is more than just lust, which I highly suspect it is. To grab for whatever happiness you can, while you can.”
“And when I’m not around, will you grab another woman to find happiness?”
“I told you before, life is too short to waste on one-night stands. I’m in it for the full package.” He bent to take her lips in a gentle, coaxing connection that made her heart swell with so much emotion she could barely breathe past it.
Tracie wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, wanting it to go on forever.
The sound of the flight attendant clearing her throat brought Tracie back to reality. Her cheeks heated and she moved back from Rip.
“Sorry to interrupt, but you two need to buckle up. We’ll be landing shortly.”
Fumbling with her seat belt, Tracie refused to look into Rip’s face, afraid of what she’d see. He wanted an answer, but she wasn’t ready to give him one. She was afraid that if she put him off too long, he’d quit asking, yet she was more afraid to accept his offer, commit her heart and have it crushed again.
The plane banked to the left and circled a small airport in the Virginia countryside. When the craft came to a complete stop, Tracie unbuckled her seat belt and stood, stretching.
Rip did the same, wincing when he moved his injured arm. His gaze connected with hers. “Ready?”
“Ready.” She led the way down the gangway to the ground where a limousine stood. With a deep breath and she stepped into the limo and slid over for Rip to climb in next to her.
“Where to first?” Tracie asked Rip.
The chauffeur, his hand pausing in the process of closing the door, answered, “Mr. Derringer suggested I take you shopping for appropriate attire at, as he put it, a high-end establishment. He has made arrangements for you two to meet with Vance Tate at Blackburn Manufacturing at four o’clock this afternoon.”
Tracie nodded. If they were going in as an insanely affluent couple, they need to look the part. Nothing like a little shopping therapy to calm the nerves.
* * *
RIP HELPED TRACIE out of the limousine at the entrance to the Blackburn Gun Manufacturing building in Alexandria, Virginia. The large building stood in an industrial park surrounded by similar buildings.
Tracie stretched one silky, sexy leg out of the limo, followed by the other and stood, smoothing the slim-fitting, simple, black designer dress she’d purchased for the occasion. It hugged every inch of her body and the neckline dipped low, displaying an ample amount of her breasts. Accessorized with a simple diamond drop necklace and earrings, a large designer handbag and Jimmy Choo black stilettos, Tracie was stunning.
When she’d walked out of the dress shop wearing the complete ensemble, Rip had to swallow several times before he could comment. Now, all he wanted to do was take her somewhere private and strip the damned dress off and make love to her.
He’d chosen a gray suit and black button-down shirt beneath the jacket, leaving it opened several buttons and wearing no tie. Hank had insisted on a Rolex watch and designer shoes to complete the disguise.
“Mrs. Gideon, shall we?” He settled a hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the front entrance.
Vance Tate met them at the door, wearing a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt and red power tie. He held the door open as Rip and Tracie strode through. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Gideon. So glad you could make it to tour the factory.”
“It was nice of you to make time for us on such short notice. Mr. Tate, was it?” Tracie said.
Tate held out his hand. “Vance Tate.”
She ignored his outstretched hand and continued. “Chuck and I are only in town for a few hours and we have dinner plans with friends in DC.”
Rip took the man’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Tate.”
“Please, call me Vance.” The man gestured toward a door on the other side of the lobby entrance. “If you’ll come into our conference room, I can show you what we manufacture here at Blackburn.”
Rip held up a hand. “We’ve done our homework and we know what you make. We’d like to see your facilities to ensure that you don’t skimp on the materials used to manufacture the weapons we’re interested in purchasing.”
“We use onl
y the best materials,” Vance assured him. “I can show you around the factory, then we can sit and discuss your needs.”
“Very well.” Rip crossed his arms, hoping to convey to the man that he was waiting to be impressed.
Vance led the way past a reception desk, slid his identification badge through a card reader and held the door for Tracie and Rip. “Your secretary gave us an idea of what you were looking for, but perhaps you could elaborate?”
“As my secretary was to inform you, the weapons we require are to provide security to our villa in Costa Rica. I do not intend to take my wife there until the security personnel and their weapons are in place.” Rip slipped his arm around Tracie’s waist and pulled her against him. “I will spare no expense to keep my wife safe. She is my most important possession.”
Anticipating her elbow jab to his gut, his muscles were tight, ready to take the blow, knowing she’d take offense to being called a possession. Rip could barely contain his smile.
Vance handed them safety glasses and ear protection headsets. He led them through the different buildings of the manufacturing facility. They started in an area where materials and spare parts were received, their certification documents scanned and filed. From there, they entered a large room filled with machines that cut away the metal to shape the outside of the barrels and rifled the insides. In a clean room, several workers along a line assembled the parts by hand.
Tate entered a long hallway with doors along the length, walking past several without stopping.
“What’s behind these doors?” Tracie asked.
“Offices and storerooms.” Vance passed the restrooms and took them to the end of the hallway. “I think you will find this interesting.” He pushed through a door into another building. “We have an indoor range where each weapon is tested with live rounds. If you’d like, you could fire one of the weapons you’re interest in purchasing.” He reached for a rifle hanging on a rack along the wall. When he turned to face the two of them, Tracie stepped forward and held out her hands. “I’d like that.”
