Bachelor SEAL (Sleeper SEALs Book 5)

by Sharon Hamilton

  All this was predicated on the event not being cancelled, but Morgan warned everyone, that’s what they’d do, if it looked too risky.

  It would have been the easy way out, to just cancel and let part of the cell scatter or go underground for awhile, but they knew from working with these groups that a kind of inertia developed, and at a certain point, even though there was the risk of detection, some cells would go through with missions that were doomed to fail. But that wasn’t what the team was counting on. They wanted the total element of surprise, that gold statue in the sky given out for missions well done.

  With security in place, Morgan and J.J. focused on the family farm in Modesto, getting back information from J.J.’s contacts at the FBI that the farm had been under a low-level watch list for years, mostly because of their use of the fertilizer chemical ammonium nitrate. Although most farming communities used it, Green Valley Produce used a lot of it—more than was commonly done. And for that, a supplier had placed them on the list. That didn’t, however, keep them from buying up enough to blow up a small town.

  Ammonium nitrate was the most popular bomb-making ingredient readily available in California and had been a first choice of terrorists the globe over since the seventies.

  Stanley and Taylor finally checked in, which was the last piece they needed before they could return home to San Diego. Morgan had even asked if they shouldn’t get a place in San Jose and ditch J.J.’s apartment in San Diego, but the Commander nixed with a gentle, “I’m not using taxpayers dollars so you can get your dick polished.”

  Fucking J.J. You can’t keep a secret.

  “So how did you do?” J.J. asked the two new recruits. He put the call on speakerphone for Morgan’s benefit.

  Stanley began. “Where to begin? First of all, we found his beauty parlor.”

  “Excuse me?” J.J. asked.

  “Halley was right. He spends no less than about four hours a week getting waxed, massaged and plucked. He even gets wheat grass colonics there, too.”

  “At a fuckin’ beauty parlor? You’re kidding me,” barked Morgan.

  “Unlike any beauty parlor you’ve ever seen. There are these six feet women coming in in burqas, they walk out as men, honest to God,” Stanley said with glee.

  “I managed to get noticed by his holiness yesterday when I came in for an ingrown toenail that, no shit, was literally killing me,” Taylor continued. “He had his personal lady attend to me. She offered to lick and wax my balls, too, which made me kind of laugh.”

  “You guys are having way too much fun.”

  “Yeah, but it’s hella scary here. I mean this mosque is shut down. No one says a word. They’re watching me, but we’re not in,” said Stanley.

  “He likes me better than Stanley,” Taylor inserted.

  “Have you heard him speak yet?” asked J.J.

  “Oh yeah. Bingo there. The guy has a hard-on for uppity women. Gave a whole hour-long message on women who let themselves get defiled by infidels. ‘A good father would sacrifice his daughter if she ever did this to his family.’ Sounds to me like they’ve had some recent problems with a couple of their female members of the congregation somewhere, and the warning were that examples will be made. That group is itching for blood. You can smell it,” said Stanley.

  “So it isn’t much of a stretch to say that Halley is in their crosshairs, then?” Morgan found himself somewhat excited with this revelation, although it was confirmation that she was, in fact, truly in danger.

  “Big time. I even found the article you had us read, with the picture cut off. It was posted on the bulletin board. A westerner wouldn’t be able to read it or suspect what it said.”

  On the drive back to San Diego, Morgan again brought up his idea about an apartment.

  J.J. looked at him like he was a smashed bug on the bottom of his shoe. “Morgan, that’s the mother of lost causes. Just forget that.”

  “I really don’t like the idea that she’s all alone.”

  “She has Gibril, if she needs someone. And that’s why it was a very bad idea to get involved with her again.”

  “Maybe it was a fuck up, but her bodyguard is gone, her assistant quit, and we’ve already determined some of his family are involved with the Imam. She lives all by herself. We have to send someone to protect her.”

  “Do you honestly think this Gibril is a bad guy?”

  Morgan admitted he didn’t think so. Halley had perhaps been right.

  “So maybe we encourage her to let him stay there, for protection.”

  “And that could be leading her right into a trap.”

  “Well, you want me to get another asset? We’re stretched pretty thin,” said J.J.

  “She does need a new bodyguard. How about one of the female agents who can double as a bodyguard as well as a secretary?”

  “I’ll run it by him again. But you keep your distance in the meantime.”

  Over the next several days, Morgan spoke to Halley each afternoon. There hadn’t been any other nasty email messages or blog comments. They cancelled all her out of town speaking engagements and instead had her doing taped segments on her iPhone to post on YouTube. She also did some small group Skype calls for her high level clients.

  The task force researched more information on the infamous Stockton cleric, including the fact that his diploma from the Al-Tawhidi University was bogus. Nothing could be found about him prior to four years ago when he first came to California.

  But when they did further research, they traced him back to a radical cleric in Iraq, who was eliminated by one of the SEAL Teams nearly eight years ago. Al-Moustafa had been his star pupil.

  A dossier was sent to the apartment with an attachment report from the SEAL raid. The picture was that of Al-Moustafa. The gentleman staring back at them had the same deadly eyes, but the face was pockmarked from some sort of skin condition that left weeping sores. He also had a misshapen nose from a gash across the bridge. The man was tragically ugly.

  But Al-Moustafa had a beautiful younger sister, who was betrothed at age nine, in a ceremony arranged by her parents. She took up household with the cleric at age eleven and was killed defending him when the SEAL team found them.

  The SEAL team had tried to spare her, thinking she was the cleric’s daughter. But she was caught firing a weapon in her husband’s defense.

  She was thirteen years old.

  “He must have had a fortune in plastic surgery. He would have fooled any face recognition software at a border crossing,” remarked J.J.

  “No wonder he spends time at the beauty parlor. He probably gets treatments for those sores. I’ll bet they’re just under that well-trimmed beard,” added Morgan.

  With only four days to go, they’d prepared the auditorium, replacing Jason’s security detail with armed Federal agents. As a precaution, one of them gave the San Jose PD and the local Fire Department a heads-up, informing them that they’d had an unconfirmed bomb threat. That meant that emergency paramedics and other vehicles would be required to be on scene for the entire venue.

  Taylor reported that on one of Al-Moustafa’s visits to the parlor, a dialysis van was parked behind the building. They had photographs of him entering the van for treatments.

  When Morgan reached out to the Pharmacology Department at UCLA for information on the drugs the Imam might have taken for keeping his skin disease under control, he was told a common side effect was kidney failure.

  Morgan understood that a dangerous man who didn’t have long to live was twice as dangerous. When the only thing to live for was to die well, the man was certainly looking to make a few lines in the history books before he was oiled, perfumed, wrapped, and buried.

  The family farm operated as it always did with no discernable change in their routine. Al-Moustafa continued to preach his brand of personal hatred. Stanley befriended a new recruit who had enrolled in the local college on a student visa. But he confided in Stanley that his parents had offered him up for a secret mission
for the Imam. Stanley pledged to help him any way he could, and he was told instructions would be coming before the weekend—the day of the Summit.

  Agents checked with the confetti lady’s crew and had someone assigned to work with them to guard the shoots above the catwalk for the release of rose petals. None of the backstage doors were allowed to remain open. J.J. was to be up top with the lighting crew while Morgan was going to be stage level, as backup protection for Halley in case the unthinkable happened.

  Commander Lambert finally gave permission for Morgan to become the bodyguard for Halley when it got down to two days prior. She’d been a trooper, Morgan told him. She’d even had Gibril spend a couple of nights in her guest room, and it had helped her nerves.

  Morgan knew it was too much of a risk that someone might take out the easy target, go for a kidnapping or some other sensational act against her in case their plan to foil the attack was discovered. And this close to the event, none of them wanted her to spend those nights alone or without someone they weren’t one hundred percent sure of.

  She was delighted when he was able to call her to let her know.

  “I’ll wait up for you. You can come tonight, right? Or should I pick you up at the airport?”

  “I want you to stay home, safe, in one of those little pink things you have.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “So you better buzz me in.”

  “You better get here quick.”

  Three hours later, he was outside her gate, giving his name to the com. Five minutes after that, he was naked and in her bed.

  Chapter 20

  Halley had a hard time believing he was finally here with her. It had been a busy, but rough few days. She was sensitive to both loud noises and the little noises like tree branches scratching on the windows. Normally, she kept her windows unshuttered, but when Morgan told her that they had a picture taken from the East Bay showing her sitting at her breakfast table, she became possessive of her privacy.

  Now, she could let down, just a bit. And that was exactly how she felt after his phone call. Relieved. She was more relieved than she was happy to see him, but she was okay with that. Being happy was going to take time. Her stressful days had strung like heavy black pearls. Morgan would love the coldness right out of her bones and bring her back to life. Only he could do that.

  Living in her beautiful glass house on the shining hill had turned into a fishbowl kind of existence. She surprised herself that she could even concentrate to remember what day it was.

  She practiced and polished her presentation, streamlined it, cut out all the unnecessary words. She pumped it up with emotional stories, things about life and color, about living with purpose, standing up for yourself and slaying the enemy of all creativity—Fear.

  She did all the preparation, not knowing for sure if she’d get the chance to even get up on stage. These circumstances and all the details, she couldn’t possibly control. She had to trust the heroes there to protect her: the Delta Force guys, and other specialists, including San Jose’s finest police force, fire departments, and emergency first responders. All she had to do was show up and deliver. Make it count. She was going to make it the best presentation of her life.

  Morgan chased her up the stairway, shedding his clothes along the way. He nearly did a cartwheel over the railing when he had to use it for balance. She loved his big, hulking frame, the muscles of his chest and shoulders that moved in beautiful symphony as he came for her, chased her, wanted her.

  His return to her life was even better than the first time. The ten years they were apart seemingly enhanced and accelerated the time they now had, she thought as she rounded the doorway to her bedroom. She dove into the fresh sheets with the rose scent. And he was there too, suddenly taking command of her body, arching, pressing, pulling her into his world and sharing his passion.

  He could make her bloom like no other, she thought. His long strokes were so desperately needed. She craved the smell of him and his deep growling sounds as he took everything she could give and demanded more. He touched and explored. He kneaded and found her soul, uncoiled it, and set it free.

  Maybe the danger all around them heightened the miracle of their lovemaking. But the glow was back. She had come alive. When she found him again, she discovered that better version of herself. They were the perfect fit.

  She felt her body shiver and release to him. Facets of Morgan she’d seen these past weeks played on the big screen in her head. She saw his face as he told her, Do you honestly think I’d ever let anything hurt you if I was alive to stop it? His curious choice of the pink shirt. The way he smelled using her deodorant. I’m all revved up just in case you decide to drop that gate, sweetheart.

  His long arms pressed against hers, extended out at her sides, fingers possessing fingers, pushing her deep into the mattress with every thrust. Everything she had belonged to him. Every cell in her body needed him more the more he took her.

  At last, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing matching hers until she couldn’t breathe any longer with the weight of him and still she wanted him covering her wrung out body.

  “Never again,” he whispered and gave her space by leaning on his side and placing a palm against her upper chest, watching it rise and fall with her breath.

  “Never? What do you mean?”

  “I’m never going to go that long without being in your bed. I don’t care if you fall in love with someone else some day, I’m staying. I’m coming along on the honeymoon.”

  She pulled the sheets to her chest, tucked her knees in, and laughed. It felt so good to do that.

  Morgan pulled the sheets away. “You’re blocking my view,” he said as he laved and kissed her left nipple. She pinched his and then also turned to her side, throwing one leg over his hip. The warm air between them made the covers unnecessary. She held his head to her chest, her fingers sorting through his hair, lazily outlining the shape of his ear.

  “I must have been crazy to let you go, Morgan. I still can’t believe I actually let you walk away.”

  He looked up, kissed her. “I was just thinking that as well.”

  “So are you ready for the big event?”

  “We’ve tried to think of everything. Everyone’s got their eyes and ears open. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “I am, too.”

  “No regrets, Halley?”

  “Nope.”

  “We can call it off and be safe.”

  “Or we can go forward, make them move, and then catch them red-handed. That’s what you do, Morgan. I’ll dive off any cliff if I know you’re there to catch me.”

  Chapter 21

  Gibril had red roses delivered to the house on Saturday morning, the day of the event. Morgan went out to the gate to pick them up and tipped the delivery girl generously.

  He loved seeing Halley’s perplexed expression as he brought them proudly inside, wearing only his red, white and blue frog boxers. He didn’t even have shoes or slippers on. And he didn’t care. He was stretching out the last few minutes they had of normalcy before the midnight HALO jump of a day it was going to be. But he was used to it. He knew J.J. and the other crew was checking everything over and over, and everyone was on standby for a call from Stanley, who was likely to be the person closest to the heart of the plan.

  He focused on the scent of the roses and the little card that came with them, and stopped in front of her.

  “He does this better than I do.”

  She didn’t answer him, but smiled and plucked the card, leaving him standing with the bouquet. Through the petals, he watched her read the note. He knew she was bittersweet about telling Gibril about their rekindling and he was going to work hard to be a decent guy and not get jealous of their friendship, if it could be preserved afterwards. He even managed to scrape up some guilt about wanting to strangle the man while shouting what he’d done to Halley in graphic detail. But that was the old Morgan. Today, everything would be between
the lines.

  Until all hell broke loose. And that was definitely going to happen today too.

  “Can I set these down? They’re kinda heavy,” he pleaded.

  She took them from him, turned her pretty little neck and her torso away from him, bent over and placed them on the coffee table, where the other ones had been some three weeks ago.

  Her pink nightgown was pulled down over one shoulder, her blonde hair all mussed, and her eyes were drunk with what he was feeling, too. He was always recovering from sex, so he could have more sex as soon as possible.

  She stepped up to him and put her arms up over his neck, which prompted him to pull her delicious ass into his hardening groin. Her head came forward, and they met in the middle. “Maybe we should just stay home and fuck. What do you say? You suppose the CIA would mind?”

  Morgan couldn’t hold his chuckle in. It was a seriously twisted thought. There wouldn’t be a place on the planet he could hide if he did that one. That was assuming they lived to tell the tale.

  “I’ll be sure to put that in my report, just so they know how close we came to calling it all off. They’ll definitely want to know.”

  She snickered and pulled herself against him, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other still up around his neck where she deliciously squeezed his aching muscle. For a few seconds, they swayed back and forth, neither wanting to be the one to pull away first.

  But she did. “I guess it’s showtime, Morgan, my love.”

  “Yup.” He saw in her beautiful face that she believed in him, and he hoped to the God of Frogs that he’d be worthy, that they’d thought of everything. He didn’t want to let her down. “You’re amazing, Halley. Simply amazing.”

  “Like I said, I’ll jump off any cliff if I know you’ll be there to catch me.”

  He wouldn’t tell her about his doubts. He was honest with himself about his own limitations. He didn’t need to warn her about the fact that, of all the missions they’d been on, only once had everything worked out as planned. This one had still too many unknowns. But they’d done the best they could do, until it was proven otherwise. So, they had to be ready for all of them.