by Em Petrova
Behind her, the door opened again and she heard a deep chuckle that made her whirl. She made a grab for the front of her robe, hoping no skin was showing because the entire Knight Ops team had shown up.
They were standing in her living room, assessing the situation.
Great—now she’d officially met Sean’s brothers in her slinky robe sporting his beard burn on her throat and the tops of her breasts.
“What is it?” Sean asked them in that no-nonsense tone that rivaled Bo’s.
His brother Ben gave him a once-over. “You had your phone turned off.”
“Yeah, so?”
Elise’s eyes widened. He’d silenced his phone, ignored his duty just to spend a night with her uninterrupted?
Ben twitched his head toward the door. “We’re ready to roll. We’ve got all the zip-ties you need.”
A low growl came from Bo, and Sean jerked his head to pierce him in his gaze. The pair glared at each other for five full heartbeats before Elise took action.
“Okay, Sean, duty calls. Bo, can I speak with you in the kitchen?”
“The Knight Ops need to hear this too.” Concern pinched Bo’s brows. Her heart rate picked up.
“What the fuck’s going on, Hawk?” Sean demanded, fists clenched.
“Elise has been made. I need to get her out of here.”
“M-made?” She stumbled over the word.
“When you downloaded those messages—somehow they found you. I need you to come with me.”
“Just a damn minute.” Sean stepped up to Bo. They were matched in height and muscle, but Sean looked angrier, more capable of bodily harm. “You’re going to take Elise away and protect her?”
He gave a sharp nod.
The tattoos covering Sean’s shoulder and arm seemed to ripple, and she realized his muscles were so tense they were quivering.
“Thunder, we need you dressed and outside in two minutes.” Ben’s order made Sean blink but that was all. The man was a hard-ass, that was for sure. As well as reckless.
“Sean, you’ve got to go. I’ll be okay.”
He ignored her and directed his question at her ex. “Where are you taking her?”
“That’s confidential. But she’ll be safe.”
“Thunder, the clock’s ticking.”
He swung his gaze to his brother. “Give me three.” Then he caught Elise’s hand and dragged her to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
They stared at each other.
He let out an uneven sigh. “Jesus Christ, Elise. I need to stay and protect you.”
She was shaking her head before he completed the sentence. “You have a duty, and I’ll be fine. I’m not helpless, you know.”
His jaw tensed, and his eyes glittered with some emotion she couldn’t name. Suddenly, he jammed his fingers through his hair, sending it into wild spikes. “Dammit, I should be guarding your life.”
“Bo’s done it before.”
His eyes bulged. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.
“I’ll be fine, I promise. Now get dressed and get out there. Your team needs you.” She picked up his shirt and tossed it to him.
He caught it one-handedly and stepped forward to slide an arm around her back, dragging her against his hard body. For a moment, she couldn’t think or breathe. Fear for what was to come—for them both—was too close to the surface.
He dropped his nose to her hair and inhaled. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Because he had no idea where he was going. She understood that—it was part of the lifestyle. Hell, she didn’t know where she was headed or when she’d return either. If she was lucky, they’d shake off the threat hanging over her and she could stay out of witness protection. She didn’t relish the idea of changing her appearance and identity.
Behind them, the door flew open. Sean shielded her with his body, and Bo’s face turned purple with anger.
Sean released her and gently pushed her behind him as he turned to face her ex. There was so much testosterone in her bedroom that the ruffles would melt, she was sure of it.
She placed a hand on Sean’s shoulder and peered around him. Bo slashed a look at her.
Sean made a low noise in his throat. “I’m guessing my operation is connected to Elise being made. As much as I want to be in two places at once, I can’t. So I’m putting her in your hands and trusting that you will keep her safe.”
Her jaw dropped.
Bo rocked on his boots, the slightest movement which told her that he was as surprised as she was to hear those words come from Sean’s mouth.
“I give my word to guard her life.”
She wanted to chime in and tell them she was capable of keeping herself alive, but she didn’t want to squash their man moment. It might not be bonding, but it was the closest they’d come to a truce.
Sean gave a hard nod and then said, “Get out. I need a minute with her.”
Bo avoided her gaze as he went out of the room and closed the door behind him. They were well past the three minutes Sean had asked for, but he didn’t appear concerned.
His eyes softened as he looked down at her. She threw her arms around his neck, going on tiptoe and molding her body to his. In their business, they never knew which moment would be their last, and she’d long ago learned to make every one count when it came to relationships.
Is that what they had? A relationship? It felt like a beginning.
He lowered his head and kissed her, a soft brushing of his mouth that left her aching—in her heart as well as her body. Deep stirrings in her core had her longing for his big thigh wedged between her legs so she could rock her—
Letting out a shaky sigh, she stepped back.
“I’ll come find you after. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, love.” His words tightened her throat.
She nodded. “You either.”
He tugged on his shirt with that crooked smile she was growing to need like a junkie needed meth. “I’ll be fine, I swear.”
She knew he couldn’t make promises like that, but she appreciated the words anyway. She watched him dress and tie his boots. Then he pressed another hard kiss to her lips before throwing open the door.
Bo stood there waiting.
“I’m trusting you, Hawk. Don’t fuck this up,” he said and strode out of her apartment. But hopefully not her life.
* * * * *
“Goddammit.” Sean glared at the side mirror of the Knights Ops vehicle until Elise’s apartment building faded from view. Then he jammed the heel of his hand on the dashboard.
Ben pushed out air through his nostrils. “We need you focused, Sean. Get your shit together because you play a bigger role in this than what you know.”
That jerked his head around. He looked at his brother, who didn’t appear to be in much better condition than him. Damn, was this what love did to a man?
His brain tripped over the word—love. Did he love Elise?
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded of his brother.
“The Russian’s back on the radar, and Jackson’s given you an opportunity.”
The SUV was completely silent.
His heart slammed his chest well. “Opportunity?”
“Yeah, we’re joining forces with another OFFSUS team that just lost their leader.”
Of course they weren’t the only team in Operation Freedom Flag in the South, but any one of those leaders would mean a huge loss to the world.
He swallowed hard. Lost could mean anything, but in their line of work, it didn’t often mean that the operator had put in for vacation.
Sean fisted his hands on his knees. “Dammit, don’t tell me who. I’m not in the mood.”
This was piss-poor timing. The one thing he’d been striving to achieve for the past few years—a team leader role—was now within his grasp.
Leading his own unit. And not any platoon but a fucking OFFSUS special ops team. A chance to make a difference, and not as someone’s sidekick.
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Fuck. Getting what he wanted came with higher stakes than he would have imagined. Leaving Elise in the hands of her ex-husband had almost killed him. And he was about to lose it if he even thought about Hawkeye not living up to his reputation when it came to skill. If one hair on Elise’s pretty little head got yanked out, so help him—
Ben braked hard, and tires squealed. Sean was ripped from his thoughts as he spotted the other black SUV sitting alongside the road, nearly undetected in the darkness.
“This is you. Good luck, Sean.” Ben’s expression broadcast so much more than his words.
“Tell me this isn’t the Pee-Wees.”
“It isn’t.”
“What the hell happens to you guys?” Sean twisted in his seat to look at Dylan, Chaz, Roades and Rocko. “You’re short-handed.”
Rocko tipped his jaw at Sean. “We’re picking up one of my former teammates. We’ll see you there, Thunder.”
What else was there to say or do? Sean nodded at each of his team before climbing out of the vehicle. When he got into the passenger’s seat of the other SUV, five men greeted him.
His men.
Fuck.
He had one chance and he couldn’t blow it, but for the next mile they drove, all he could think about was Knight Ops and Elise. He felt as if his guts were being torn out.
Where was she right now? Fleeing with Bo to some safehouse? Sean hadn’t even gotten to say a proper goodbye—not the way he wanted to. He’d planned to take his leave from her slowly in the morning, to wake her with coffee and a hot shower, where he’d slide his soapy fingers all over her curves and finally brace her against the wall and fuck her.
All those hopes had popped like a bubble, and now she was on the run and he was facing God knew what.
“Sean Knight,” he said at last to his new team.
“Frisco, Cap’n.” The driver tossed him a grin. He bore a jagged scar up his bare arm that disappeared under the sleeve he’d ripped off his shirt. It was still red, freshly healed. These guys had stories just like theirs.
The others called out their names. McMahon, Corporon, Depeux and Wolf. All of them good old Southerners just like the Knight Ops team.
He gave a light shake of his head. “Y’all sound like a bunch of bayou boys. I guess when they organized the Southern division, they took it seriously.”
A light cheer went up, and Frisco shot him an amused glance. “That’s right. We’re glad you’re leading us, Cap’n.”
An odd sting of pride in his chest caught Sean off guard. It welled into a burn, and he resisted the urge to rub a hand over the spot. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to tell Elise about this.
But she was gone from him for now. That motherfucker Hawk better take good care of her.
Frisco made a quick right turn onto a back road Sean knew as a cutoff.
“Tell me we’re not going where I think we’re going,” he said to Frisco.
McMahon made a few twangy noises that mimicked a banjo and the others hummed a bar of an old Cajun tune about a swamp monster. But that’s what this team was—each one of them capable of sneaking in and out where only a paranormal creature would roam.
“You said it, Knight. They picked us Southern boys for a reason.” Frisco’s teeth flashed white. “Swamp rats, every one of us. Welcome to Team Rougarou. We’re supposed to go in and flush these Russkies out while Knight Ops captures them.”
Until this moment, the team he was now leading was only rumored to be real. Named after a mythical werewolf living in the swamps, it was no wonder nobody knew the truth.
Sean looked out the windshield. Russkies? More than one Russian? “Fuck.”
His response was met by laughter and a cheer. “We save the fucking for later, Cap’n. Always got women eager to celebrate our victories.”
Sean grinned. “Then let’s get this done fast so we can get to the ladies.” Visions of Elise brought him down to earth again. He was going to tear Hawk apart if she wasn’t safe.
“What’s the strategy, Knight?” There had to be a reason behind Frisco’s nickname, because the man had the most Cajun accent Sean had ever heard, but now wasn’t the time for getting to know his men. That could come after they did their jobs.
Sean’s brain worked over the little information he had. At least he knew these swamps like he knew the curves of Elise’s body.
Damn, he really had it bad for that woman.
He cleared his throat. “Get ready, boys. I’ve got an idea.”
* * * * *
Sean made a hand-chopping motion toward the west. “I think they’re hunkered down there. It’s the thickest cover in fucking Louisiana. Two of us circle around and get in a position behind them while Depeux, you provide some cover shots. That should lure them out and get them riled up, especially when Wolf sends some shots over their heads from the east.”
The group of men nodded at his command.
His earpiece cracked as it came to life, Ben’s voice filling his ear. “We’re in position.”
“Copy that.” Sean didn’t like the thought of his brothers and Rocko and another Navy turned OFFSUS man named Gallagher being on that side of the war without him. But he had a job to do.
He nodded at McMahon. “You’re with me. Corporon, you move between Depeux and Frisco, make sure they’re covered.”
“Got their backs, boss man.” Corporon’s deep baritone could easily fit into a backwoods jug band—it had a musical quality in his singsong way of speaking.
“Heading out,” he said to Ben.
“Good luck.”
“Guts and glory, bro,” came Dylan’s voice.
“Guts and glory,” Sean returned, throat thick.
For the next five minutes, they spread out, he and McMahon picking their way through cover so thick, they could barely see in front of them. With their night goggles, they had enough vision to pick out the spaces between brambles and tangled vines for places to slip through. Sweat poured down Sean’s neck and into the collar of his shirt. What he wouldn’t give for that shower with Elise right now.
Putting her from his mind, he focused on his senses. He had to stay alive to find her again.
First, the Russian. Or Russians. Apparently, the guy had brought friends. No matter, because Team Rougarou and Knight Ops would make short work of them. They wouldn’t be happy to find themselves surrounded in Manchac Swamp.
This time Sean was packing more than zip-ties.
Captured once, shame on you. Captured twice, you’re dead.
He pressed his lips into a line and motioned for McMahon to set up. He could practically hear heartbeats in the center of the small patch of land they had surrounded. He listened harder. Not voices, exactly, but a whisper of wind, slightly off-rhythm.
Maybe he really did belong with Team Rou. He relied on mystical shit just as much as they did, it seemed.
A whiff of smoke hit his nostrils, and McMahon’s head shot up. “You’re fucking kidding me. What asshole smokes those cheap fucking cigars?” McMahon drawled.
Sean flashed him an amused glance. “Dumb fuckers who have access to American garbage.”
“Well, I’ll give him something good to smoke right before I hand him over.”
They bumped knuckles and then settled down to make their move.
Minutes passed with a volley of talk, chatter coming from the other guys in Rou, teasing and ribbing that rivaled what the Knight Ops crew did in these situations.
Sean went still. Knight Ops. Why hadn’t Ben spoken up in the past twenty minutes? He had to be in position by now, ready for Sean and his men to flush out these fuckers so they could capture them.
“Thunder to Knight One.”
The silence that came back at him had his heart thumping wildly.
“Fuck, Knight Ops isn’t where they need to be. What’s wrong with these city boys?”
“Watch it, Depeux,” Sean snapped. “Something’s the matter. Ben, Dylan, state your positions.”
A crackle in his ear
had Sean’s spine straightening. But when a shot fired that didn’t come from the direction of Depeux or Frisco, he rocketed to his feet. McMahon jumped up too.
Sean’s mind worked the situation in a blink, and he unraveled the dilemma into a clear objective. As usual, things had gone sideways, and for some reason, Knight Ops was not able to get into position. Probably because they were now taking fire from a second group of Russians holed up on the opposite side of their position.
Sean saw only one chance to get these assholes, and he wasn’t going to lose it. He threw McMahon a look. “We’re not pushing these Russkies out, McMahon—we’re going in. On three.”
Chapter Eight
Elise gazed at the computer screen in front of her. Never in a million years would she believe she’d be cracking codes that led back to herself. But the war she was fighting was one of genius minds, and she had to fight fire with fire. It was the only way to nail these people who were after her. She needed to get ahead of them, to know what path they’d take to find her.
Bo had set her up in a cabin on the edge of nowhere, and it was far from a vacationer’s dream setting. Hell, the abandoned restaurant where she’d started out with Dylan and Sean was better than this.
Of course, in her mind, nothing could compare to the inn where she and Sean had finally blown open the whole case. There, she’d seen just how brilliant his mind was, how he could keep up to her in every way.
Crap, she had to put him out of her head. Who knew when they’d see each other again. Bo refused to tell her anything about Knight Ops’ operation.
Her fingers ached, and she realized she was gripping the edge of the table so hard her fingertips were white. She pulled her hands back and rubbed at a splinter embedded too deep to pick out without a needle.
Things sometimes went wrong on missions. Like when she’d downloaded the files, which had drawn a fat red X over her location the minute she’d opened them. She’d moved around enough to throw off the people trying to locate her, but eventually they’d pinned her down at her apartment.
Whoever had written that little program into the secret messages was a fucking Einstein. She was good at what she did, but she couldn’t begin to wrap her head around the methods used to find her.
