by Em Petrova
“It’s the DEA agent, isn’t it? The one that we handed those pirates over to.” One of their first missions had been to stop a huge drug shipment, along with a known terrorist about to step onto US soil. Chaz had eyed the curvy DEA agent who came to interfere, but Sean hadn’t thought of her again.
From the narrowing of Chaz’s eyes, Sean had hit the bulls-eye.
“Are you kidding me?” Ben scrubbed a hand over his face. “When do you guys get all this time to fuck? We’ve had all of five hours of leave since Knight Ops formed, I swear.”
Sean leveled his gaze at him. “And still you manage to get a round or three in every day with Dahlia.”
Ben began to respond but was cut off by Colonel Jackson entering, along with an Air Force general behind him. The Knight Ops team stood at attention, and Jackson waved a hand for them to be seated once more.
The man sat and spoke in his usual straightforward manner. “I take it you men have heard.”
Ben nodded. “Warheads being transported from California to Barksdale. Three missing.”
Jesus, three? Sean had assumed there was only one, but their stakes had just been raised.
“That’s right. An extreme oversight that has some heads rolling as we speak.” The general nodded at Ben. “I’m General Gear. Good to see you, men. And thank you for coming.”
Sean felt that familiar tingle of excitement burning at the base of his spine. The sensation urged him not to just move toward the danger but to run at it with a deadly stealth and precision that never failed him. He shifted in his seat, eager to get up and move.
He listened to more of the story of how the warheads had been misplaced. Then General Gear added, “If we find these warheads were mistakenly loaded onto another bomber headed for Barksdale instead of in the wind like we believe, someone’s ass is on the line. But we’re going to operate as if that isn’t the case and there are, in fact, three live ones on the ground.”
“What do we need to do?” Ben asked.
Under his breath, Sean couldn’t help but say, “Damn fly boys keep making a fucking mess to clean up.”
Ben slanted him a look.
“You just want your own team,” Chaz said.
Damn. Bringing up the DEA agent had backfired on Sean.
Everyone straightened, and Ben riveted Sean in his gaze. “What’s this?”
Sean avoided Colonel Jackson’s eyes. “I’m all in Knight Ops. But someday, I’d like to be something besides second in command.”
“This is something to discuss in your leisure time, boys, and you don’t have that right now. We need you to move as swiftly as possible,” Jackson said.
“You need us to get you out of the jam before Americans learn the truth.” Ben’s words rang through the conference room as he spoke what was on everyone else’s minds. “I can’t believe that for the second time in a decade, the Air Force has lost a warhead.”
General Gear eyed Ben with a deadly blank stare. He wasn’t about to be spoken to that way, especially by a punk Marine turned OFFSUS.
A heartbeat passed and then Ben pushed out a sigh, composing himself once more. “Let me state these facts and correct me if I’m wrong. Before transport, the military was supposed to disarm eight warheads, but three slipped by inspection.” He let this statement hang in the air, accusing the men involved not of incompetence but of possible treason. “Then en route to Barksdale, they were hijacked and are believed to be floating around the South somewhere.”
“And we have about five minutes to find them before some redneck comes up with a scheme to take over the country,” Sean said.
Colonel Jackson’s gaze shot to him and then back to the general. “That sums it up, Knight. Question is, how are you boys going to find them?”
The group around the table sat dead still in various poses of contemplation. Dylan had his fingers to his temples and Chaz had rocked back in his chair to look at the ceiling. Roades only had his head cocked, staring without pause at the general as if the man had personally set out to ruin their fun at the cabin. And Rocko was his usual relaxed self, his ankle hitched over his knee and one arm stretched to the back of the empty seat next to him.
Ben looked like a warhead himself, all bottled up and about to blow. Sean couldn’t blame him—leaving his girl for this kind of fuck-up that could have—should have—been avoided would piss anybody off.
“You say there’s a buzz about it?” Sean asked.
The seven-star Air Force General nodded. “Some messages we believe to be related have recently been intercepted and we’ve got our best code cracker on the job. But she needs help.”
Jackson turned his head to pierce Dylan in his gaze. “That’s where you come in, Dylan.”
He straightened. “I’ll start now.”
“I’ll take you there in a minute. One more thing.”
They all tensed. In this business, the other shoe always dropped. And it was never good.
“That Russian spy you had in your clutches a few days ago. He never made it to DC.”
Sean reeled back in his seat. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding me.” He took back his comment about a redneck and replaced it with some Russian terrorist.
Jackson shook his head. “Something happened between the transport van and jet. Believe me, there are some military police in a world of shit right now for this little oversight. But I’ll just put it out there that the Russian might have been in the South waiting for these warheads to show up.”
“And now he’s loose and so are the warheads,” Ben concluded in an isn’t-that-fabulous voice.
Jackson nodded. “Dylan, come with me. The rest of you have some planning to do. Use the room as long as you’d like.”
The general stood and left with Jackson and Dylan on his tail. Sean glanced at his team. “Can you believe that shit? Letting that Russian go after the trouble we went through to capture him?”
“You’re just pissed about wasting all those zip-ties on the man,” Chaz quipped. His banter fell flat as the situation too heavy.
Ben got up and paced to the wall of tall windows overlooking the parking lot and beyond that, the coast.
Sean’s mind worked over their course of action. What they really needed was a solid lead on locating the warheads or the spy. Without those, they were more or less wandering the South looking for a fox in a hole. And there were too many holes to look into and far too little time.
Pushing back his chair, Sean stood. Everyone stared at him. “I’m going with Dylan and see if I can at least get enough intel to find a starting point.”
Ben turned from the window. “You’d better move it. They’re crossing the parking lot right now.”
Sean took off in a jog, navigating the corridors and pushing past the guards to get outside. He called out, and Jackson and Dylan stopped before getting into a black car. Sean caught up. “I’m going along to carry back any information that will help in the planning.”
Jackson gave a sharp nod and opened the back door to climb in. Dylan and Sean exchanged a look and then Dylan climbed into the spacious back seat and Sean took shotgun with the driver. In minutes, he became aware that they didn’t have the code analyst set up in an obvious part of the city. New Orleans had many richly cultural areas, and they were headed into voodoo and black magic territory. Typical undercover operation.
When they arrived at an old storefront, Sean suppressed a snort. Yup, he’d guessed it. The place looked to have been vacant since Hurricane Katrina.
The driver stopped along the curb and they all got out. Without waiting, Sean went inside the building and stopped, looking at the dust fallen on glass display cabinets and a circa-1990s cash register.
Someone came out of the back room, and Sean straightened, hand flying to his sidearm, the heel of his hand on the grip as he stared down the man who stood slightly taller than him.
Dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt, the man could be military or just some wannabe. They eyed each other, and the guy took a step
closer. Sean’s fingers flexed on his weapon.
The man snorted. “Shoulda figured you’d be a dumbass, Knight. I’m not going to attack you. At ease.”
Sean didn’t budge, searching the guy’s clothing for sign of rank, but there was no indication this guy could order him around. “Who the hell are you?”
“Jeeezus,” the guy drawled as Jackson and Dylan entered behind Sean. “What did you bring me to work with, Colonel?”
“Hawk, meet the Knights, Sean and Dylan. Your charge will be working with Dylan here.”
His charge?
“Hawk, as in Bo Hawkeye?” Sean asked.
The guy raised a thick brow at him. Sean’s first impression was extreme dislike. He’d met some cocky motherfuckers in his day, but Hawk seemed to be outranking all of them in asshole factor.
They stood staring at each other like a couple of alley cats fighting over a food scrap, which was dumb because there was nothing to measure their dicks over.
Sean forced his hand away from his side and straightened his body into a non-combative stance. Whether or not he succeeded was anybody’s guess.
“I’m with Dylan. I need to carry intel back to my team.”
Hawk’s nostrils flared slightly, but he didn’t look away. Whatever the hell the guy’s problem was, it couldn’t be with him. Sean had never been in the same room with Hawk before, and he didn’t give a fuck if he did offend him—he had a job to do.
When Sean stepped up to the guy, his chest inches away from Hawk’s, he felt a ripple run across his skin that was pure adrenaline. After a long second, Hawk stepped aside, allowing him to pass into the room where Dylan had gone.
As he entered the cramped back room, his gaze flitted over cardboard boxes and work surfaces to one small desk in the corner where Dylan was seated. Next to him was a woman, her face partially hidden by the huge high-tech monitor she sat behind.
The analyst was female?
He stepped farther into the room, and the woman tipped her head up to peer over the monitor at him. Sean’s chest constricted as his stare clashed with the warmest, biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen.
An odd spark struck his solar plexus and zipped through his entire body. Like being struck by a lightning bolt. What the hell was that?
He twitched his fingers into fists.
Dylan was completely engrossed in what was on the screen, oblivious to the moment that passed between Sean and this… this goddess? Code cracker. Special operative.
And Hawk was in charge of her? Jackson had said that, hadn’t he?
The low voices of Jackson and Hawk in the other room rose and fell. For all Sean knew, they were comparing recipes, and he sure as hell hoped so. It would give him more time to get closer to the beauty seated next to his brother.
His very lucky brother, who was about to be overthrown.
He moved forward, circling a table that might have been a place to fold clothing items or roll out dough when this business was in operation. He had no idea what this shop had once been, but for the moment it was HQ.
The woman came more into view, the sight of her delivering another hit to the chest as he took in her sleek dark hair, the ends just below her collarbones. She appeared to be as fit as a Marine, with sharp shoulders and trim arms in a simple navy top. She wore no jewelry and no dog tags. But why would she if she was working for OFFSUS or some other government operation?
His lungs were burning, and he realized he wasn’t breathing. He sucked in a breath and came to stand next to the desk. The beauty looked up at him, eyes wary but carrying a hint of amusement.
Her skin, café au lait with a dash of cream, had a richness he burned to see under the glow of candlelight. Or moonlight in the bayou. The vision of naked limbs and those plump dark pink lips of hers had his cock stirring.
Jesus, voodoo and black magic indeed. What the hell was this woman doing to him?
“I’m Knight.” He stopped as that glimmer in her eyes brightened. She was laughing at him inside. And he was acting like a fool, as if he’d never met a woman in his life, let alone taken many to his bed. “Sean Knight.”
“Nice to meet you.” She didn’t offer her name or her hand, and he didn’t know which bothered him more. He needed her name—but he wanted to touch her skin, to make that contact that always bound humans together.
Had she shaken Dylan’s hand? He slid his gaze to his brother, who was so engrossed he didn’t even look up. His geek side was showing, but he let that flag fly with pride.
She tilted her head to the side, revealing two tiny silver studs in her earlobe. The daintiest, most feminine accessories Sean had ever seen. His fingertip tingled to reach out and stroke his finger across her lobe, but he couldn’t touch her—not because he was a stranger but because he’d surely break such a creature.
“And your name is?” he prompted.
Dylan lifted his eyes from the screen and stared at Sean. Damn, was it that obvious that he was acting oddly?
“This is Special Operative Elise Dupré. She’s been working for twenty hours straight on this message, and she’s so close to having part of it stripped down.” Dylan’s voice rang with admiration.
No. That couldn’t happen. Dylan was not working with this woman.
Elise.
Also, Sean didn’t want to hear the words stripped down associated with Elise or coming from Dylan’s mouth ever again.
He grabbed a metal folding chair and flipped it open, settling it next to the woman. Beside her, he looked like a mountain. She was smaller than he’d guessed, and he dwarfed her. A protective instinct rose up, unbidden.
It’s my duty to protect anything more vulnerable than I am. I’m here to protect and serve.
God, could he serve her. Seating her on his face, her honey-brown thighs clasping his ears as he—
“This.” Elise pointed to the screen, and Dylan followed her finger. Sean had no idea what they were seeing in the simple words. But he wasn’t leaving his brother alone with Elise. The team could fill him in on the operation later, because he was staying right here.
Dylan reached for the keyboard. “May I?”
Dammit, had they just exchanged a smile? No. Absolutely not.
Elise pushed the keyboard in his direction and Dylan tapped out some letters that at first glance, appeared to be scrambling the existing words. But he hit another key and a few letters were suddenly in bold type and spelling out something completely different.
“Kentucky? Fucking Kentucky,” Sean growled.
Elise looked at him, eyes wide.
Feeling like a barbarian, he offered her a smile that felt utterly foreign on his face. Judging by the look on Dylan’s, it appeared as weird as it felt.
“We’ve spent a lot of time in Kentucky recently,” Sean said by way of explanation.
“Ah.” The sound she uttered was so feminine, so fucking close to the sound she’d make in Sean’s bed, that his jeans grew tight in the crotch.
“Do you believe the warheads are somewhere in Kentucky?”
She gave a light shake of her head that sent her hair brushing across those delicious collarbones. If Sean got fully hard while seated on this folding chair, his fly was going to burst.
Dylan and Elise began talking fast, skipping over parts that Sean didn’t understand, leaving him to fill in the blanks as if they were speaking a foreign language and he was only comprehending every third word.
Elise raised her hands and started fluttering her fingers in the air, seeming to outline things nobody could see but he assumed her brilliant mind made perfect sense of.
Dammit, this woman was intriguing, alluring, smart and giving off the appeal of a voodoo priestess oozing sex and magic. Looking at her, he wouldn’t doubt she had someone just like that in her family tree.
And Dylan was going to work with her? No.
“Dylan, can I speak with you alone?” His words came out harsh, stopping their chatter dead.
They both stared at him. Dylan gave a si
ngle nod and then looked to Elise. She went back to the screen as Sean stood and walked out of the room. He had to make something clear, and he was damn well pulling rank.
It would take a crash-course in codes and data, but Sean was a quick study with languages, and this couldn’t be much different, right? He was more than ready. He just had to get his brother out of the way.
Dylan was stepping aside so Sean could take his place.
Chapter Three
Elise looked on as Dylan followed Sean out of the room. And then walked right back in. They stood in the corner, backs to her and heads together, speaking in low tones she couldn’t make out but giving her one hell of a view.
Two chiseled bodies, the sets of their shoulders so similar they could be twins. Sean’s hair was a hint darker, or that could just be the crappy overhead lighting in this dump Bo had set her up in.
Why she couldn’t analyze the messages from the comfort of her own apartment, she had no clue, but as soon as he’d learned she would have the help of Dylan Knight, Bo had whisked her here.
At least he’d given her the biggest, best monitor on the market to work with.
She wasn’t letting these guys step in and steal her work out from under her. This was far too exciting, and she wasn’t about to hand it over to the Knight brothers.
She chewed at her lower lip as she tried to focus on the work and failed. It was impossible not to wonder what the brothers were discussing in such heated whispers, especially given her guess that they were taking over.
Dylan suddenly straightened with a jerk and Sean turned to give Elise a smile.
Oh no. She was working with one of those guys. The charm-your-panties-off playboy types. That was the last thing she needed. What she required to do her job, and essentially save Americans, was an intelligent, focused assistant. Instead, she was getting Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.
She returned his stare but not his smile. “Look, I don’t give a damn what your credentials are. You’re not pushing me out of this and taking over.”
Sean stared at her. “Why would you think we’re taking over?”
