Ritt

by Anne L. Parks

  She held her breath.

  Silence.

  There was only one answer that rang through her head.

  Because you failed them.

  A strangled cry burst from her chest as she released her breath. A body stood next to her. Warm. Alive. An arm wrapped around her shoulder. For what? Support?

  “Riley—” Lance’s voice took her by surprise. He was the one offering her support?

  He was a SEAL. He lost a brother.

  No! She shrugged out of his tight hold. I don’t deserve comfort. I don’t deserve understanding. Or support.

  Emotions overtook her body. They ravaged her like two demons waring to take possession of her soul. She couldn’t be there. Especially not with Lance.

  She had to get away. Far away. Her legs burst into action of their own accord. A defense mechanism since she was unable to put together a coherent thought of what the hell to do next.

  She kept running despite the sound of Lance’s voice calling her name. She had nowhere to go. Her feet pounded the solid dirt ground, each step in perfect cadence with the two words screaming in her head like an angry drill sergeant.

  Your. Fault.

  * * *

  Lance hadn’t expected Riley to be a fast runner—but there she was, kicking his ass. Granted, she had gotten a pretty good jump on him.

  They were moving out of the main area of the compound. Into an area where there were no lights. Darkness enveloped them. His eyes were still adjusting to the inky blackness all around them. Breaths echoed in his head as his feet hit the ground. He could barely make out her figure moving ahead of him.

  Where the hell is she going?

  He needed to catch her soon. Before she hit the fence. That’d be an unwelcome jolt of electricity she didn’t need.

  He called her name, but she either didn’t hear him, or was ignoring him. The latter, he suspected.

  Knowing so little about her, Lance had nonetheless come to the conclusion that Riley depended on no one but herself. The attitude was like a warning beacon whenever she was nearby. Don’t fuck with me. I know my shit. And I don’t care about your rules, your chain of command, or your politics.

  She was mission oriented. Placed the safety of her team above all else.

  And Dix had taken that away from her. Lance had no doubt that if Dix would’ve listened to her regarding the oddity of the meeting—had called back the men when she had first suggested it—Ripper would still be alive.

  Hell, if they had all taken her advice and put off the mission, none of this would’ve happened.

  They had to be getting near the fence. With a burst of speed, he gained on her until she was within a close enough proximity to grab hold of her arm.

  “Let go of me,” she screamed at him.

  “You have to stop.”

  “No,” she pushed against his chest, and tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp.

  He shook her to get her attention. Her eyes were dark, pain and sorrow churned in them like a turbulent sea. “You’re going to hit the fucking electric fence, Riley.”

  For a moment he thought she might actually be contemplating running into the fence on purpose. He grasped her shoulders, squeezing them in frustration. “You need to listen to me.”

  She shook her head and looked out into the night sky.

  “This is not on you, Riley.”

  “It is—”

  “No, this is all Dix. He could’ve listened to you, called it off before anything happened. Ripper’s death is on him—not you.”

  She swung her head around, dark eyes flamed. “Are you insane? I should’ve done more in the beginning to make sure this mission was put on hold. I should’ve made Flaherty give the abort order and gotten them out of there.”

  “How, Riley? How could you have done anything different? You gave the order. Dix overruled you.”

  She lifted her arms in a quick thrust, breaking the connection between them. “I don’t know, Lance. Thrown his fat ass out of the tent. Shot the fucker. Anything to have made sure my team was safe. I should never have held back on anything to ensure Ripper returned.” A sob broke free from her chest. “Alive.”

  He gathered her in his arms. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight him. Face buried in his chest, muffled cries filtered through the desert silence. She grasped the sides of his shirt and clung to him.

  He rested his head on hers. There was nothing in the world he wanted to do more than lift her chin, wipe away the tears, and kiss the pain and anger and hurt away. He wanted to let her know just how much he admired her.

  She was burrowing under Lance’s skin, making him consider things about the type of woman he was really drawn to—not the knockouts without wits who would let him use them for sex. No…he was drawn to someone strong, smart. Someone who didn’t take shit, who worked her ass off to make the world a better place. Someone who put other people’s lives before her own, and would move heaven and earth to keep them safe.

  He was drawn to Riley like a moth to the flame. And he was sure to get burned.

  Chapter 6

  US Embassy

  Amman, Jordan

  Lance took a seat in the same chair he occupied the first day he had come to the Embassy. The briefing Riley had claimed the mission should be postponed. Today was the debrief to cover what had gone wrong.

  Lance glanced at the empty chair Riley had occupied that day. She wasn’t there. Dix had forbade it, and had gone up the chain of command claiming he had sensitive information that required she be absent.

  Lance read that as Dix covering his ass. Dix had tried to talk to Lance on the ride back from Syria, explain his side of things. But Lance had been too preoccupied with Riley. She sat alone. Eyes closed, but Lance would bet good money she hadn’t been sleeping. In fact, she looked as if she hadn’t slept since before the mission fail.

  The same brass and high-level suits filed in and took seats at the table. Admiral Turner gave Lance a head nod, but didn’t speak to him. If he was reading the Admiral correctly—the big man was telling him they would have a chat later. Privately.

  A nerdy little booger eater, aka intel guy, was going through the rigors of how sound the intel had been. General Cairn frowned, stroked his chin.

  “So, what the hell happened?”

  The intel guy stepped back and deferred to Dix, who took center stage. “All indicators are that the intelligence was leaked to ISIS, who then used the information to set up a counter attack.”

  The room buzzed with low murmurs.

  “Initial inquiries point to one person, the only other person outside the people in this room who had access to the intel.” Dix shot a quick glance at Lance. Cold fingers of dread snaked into his chest and squeezed his heart. “Riley Bray.”

  Fuck.

  The dickhead was trying to pin all of this on Riley. The room erupted, most people refusing to believe Riley could have anything to do with treason.

  “That’s a serious charge,” Admiral Turner said in a low, calm voice that commanded everyone’s attention. A hush fell over the room and all eyes turned to Dix. He fidgeted.

  The little weasel.

  “Yes, sir, and I can assure you it gives me no pleasure to make the accusation. There is just no other way the information could’ve been passed.”

  “What motive would she have?” the General asked. “From all our interactions with Deputy Bray, she seems competent, mission-oriented—almost to a fault. I can’t see what would make her place SEALs in the line of fire.”

  “It could be any number of things, sir.” Dix shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

  Had he really believed he could drop that bombshell and not get follow-up questions?

  “Well, no shit. What I’m asking is if you have anything other than supposition to go on.” Cairn’s face was getting red. Apparently, Dix was not impressing him with his allegation— especially without any facts to back it up.

  Neither was Lance. The idea that Riley could be invo
lved in passing secrets to the enemy pissed him off.

  “Look, no one wants to believe one of our own—especially someone as impressive as Deputy Bray—would be able to do something like this.” One of the suits looked at everyone seated around the table. “But, there is no doubt that we need to get to the bottom of this.”

  “I agree,” remarked another suit, one with politician written all over him. “If there’s nothing there…then no harm, no foul.”

  Turner leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. “Then it appears we need to appoint an investigative team to get to the bottom of this.” All heads around the table nodded in agreement. A smug smile of satisfaction slid across Dix’s face.

  Lance’s chest tightened and his hands fisted at his side. This was not right.

  The Riley he had come to know over the past few days was not a mole.

  * * *

  Silence seemed to follow Riley everywhere. Eyes filled with pity took her in. Half smiles that said sorry you failed greeted her along the unusually long walk from the security entrance into the work area. It had so often been a calming environment. Not that day.

  A hush envelope the space as she entered. None of her people would look her in the eye. All heads down.

  So, this is what failure feels like…

  She hated everything about her life at that moment. As if she wore a scarlet letter, one that screamed to the world that she was the cause of Ripper’s death. Shame she knew she would wear for the rest of her life. A man had died. On her watch.

  No one was to blame but her.

  And everyone—including the top brass—seemed to know, since she was ordered not to attend the debrief of the mission. They wanted only her written statement. It was crap—but really, what would she have done if she had gone? Verified that Ripper was dead because she lacked the balls to save him. That she had so little backbone, she couldn’t stand up to her boss and force the men to be called back. She could have picked up the red phone next to her and gone over his head. Insisted Dix’s boss listen to her—trust her—and get the men out. She could’ve gotten on comms and told Horse she had a bad feeling and to pull back.

  So many things she could’ve done. Should have done.

  She flipped on the light to her office, shut the door behind her, and dropped into her chair. Booting up her computer, she wondered if Lance was at the debriefing. On the one hand, Dix wanted to impress him for whatever reason Lance had been sent to observe him—most likely a promotion of some sort. But on the other hand, Dix had basically shut down when shit started going south, and Riley had to step in. If Dix was ass-covering in this debrief—which, of course he was—Lance would be there to set the record straight.

  If Lance would actually go to bat for her.

  She thought about how he comforted her after she discovered Ripper had died. How long had it been since she’d been comforted by a man? Too long. That just wasn’t the way she was wired. She hated showing weakness, especially in this testosterone-heavy environment.

  Lance stirred something in her. His strong arms around her. Their bodies pressed against each other. Her libido had roared to life, and begged to be taken care of.

  But it was so much more than that. A connection had been forged from early on with him. It had been just a small flame in the beginning, but had slowly turned to bonfire sized after the mission went to hell. He had trusted her assessment of the situation. Tried to help her get the men out of danger. They had worked together to get the SEALs back to the base.

  It was the closest thing to a partnership she had been involved with in a very long time, and it felt good to have someone who had her back.

  She booted up her computer. Whatever had been going on with Lance while they were in Syria had obviously stayed in Syria. She hadn’t seen him since the plane ride back to Amman. He sat with Dix. Deplaned with him. And she hadn’t had any contact Lance since then. A sense of loss swelled. She liked Lance. Having someone one her side might alleviate some of the loneliness.

  An email sat in her inbox from Flaherty:

  LCDR Knight requested I get him a still photo of one of the men outside the school in Palmyra. I don’t have any contact info for him. Would it be possible for you to get this to him?

  V/r,

  Ryan Flaherty

  Chief Petty Officer, USN

  Riley opened the attachment. A grainy picture of a white man filled the screen. The guy Ripper had seen outside the school. The last time she had heard his voice. She sat still, thinking aloud while the image printed.

  “What do you have to do with this, strange white man in the middle of a suicide bombing mission?”

  And why was Lance so interested in him?

  * * *

  More discussion ensued around the higher ups, but Lance wasn’t listening. Dix was in deep conversation with the chief of intelligence, Rodney Baines.

  “Run a CI on Riley,” Dix said, barely audible to Lance.

  A counterintelligence investigation.

  What was his deal? Did he really hate Riley so much that he would accuse her of trading secrets with the terrorists?

  “Commander,” Turner called to him. Lance’s head shot up. The Admiral was standing in the doorway, head-nodding toward the hallway.

  Lance jumped up and followed the man out the door, down the hall, and into the room where Lance, Mick, and Lucas had met a few days earlier. Turner closed the door behind him, and flipped a switch that jammed any recording devices.

  “What’s your assessment of Bray? Could she have done this?” Turner asked.

  “Sir, I’m having a hard time believing she’s the leak. All indicators are that she is loyal to the agency, patriotic, and takes her job seriously.”

  Turner quirked up an eyebrow. “How long have you known her?”

  “I met her for the first time on the day of the briefing a week ago.”

  “So, you only have a few days with her, and she’s convinced you she is not capable of committing crimes against her country that resulted in the death of a SEAL?”

  “I haven’t known her long, sir, that is correct. And she may have duped me along with everyone in that room. But I witnessed how she reacted to the explosion. I was with her when she went to see the SEAL team after they returned. She was devastated, took all the blame for the failure on herself.”

  “Some say that might indicate a confession. Points to her being guilty.” Turner grabbed the door handle and sighed. “This investigation is going to happen, and they’ll be crawling up Ms. Bray’s ass with a large scope. He flipped the switch and opened the door. “I hope Riley comes out unscathed. I like her. She’s got bigger balls than most the men in this building. Even mine, sometimes.”

  Lance chuckled. “I think she’s proud of that fact, sir.”

  Lance walked down the hall towards Riley’s office. He was running through every interaction he’d had with her since they’d met. Was it possible she’d fooled him? If she was a counter agent, she would be adept at lying and portraying herself as someone she’s not.

  But he had seen her after she’d learned Ripper had died. That was pure, raw emotion that tore her apart. No one was that great an actor.

  But he had to admit he really didn’t know the woman, even though he wanted to believe he did. After he started sniffing around and asking questions, he might find out exactly who she was. And that might blow his image of her to hell.

  Or make him want her even more than he already did.

  Chapter 7

  The door to Riley’s office was closed. No light snuck out of the gap at the bottom. Lance knocked anyway, just in case she was inside…meditating, or some shit. He didn’t know if she did that or not. Hell, he didn’t know her at all.

  Except that he did, on some level. She was as dedicated to her job—to protecting Americans, fighting terrorism, and keeping her guys safe—as he was.

  Is that what I know…or what I want to believe?

  Things with Riley had gone from curio
us to muddled as soon as he wrapped her in his embrace. The feel of her in his arms, the weight of her body leaning against his. The smell of her hair, coconut and lime, a fresh scent that was at odds with the putrid air in that region of the world. There was a need to break through her walls, carry some of the burden she held so tightly to, and be the one person she turned to rant, cry, or scream at the world.

  And he had no idea if she wanted the same. Chances were good she didn’t. And that left a sour taste in his mouth. He had never experienced wanting a woman who didn’t want him. And, damn, did he ever want this woman.

  All of her. Head. Heart. Smokin’ hot bod. He’d had some wicked horny dreams about her since returning from Syria. Naked under him, sweat glistening off her pale skin. His lips traveling from her lips, down the column of her neck, across her chest. His teeth nipping at her perky nipples. Fingers sinking through her red hair, her head pulled back. Her green eyes bright and lust-filled. Her thighs quivering as he spread her wide. Her pussy wet and inviting.

  What sounds would she make when he entered her? Was she as subdued in her lovemaking as she was in her regular life? Lance doubted it. He’d bet dollars to donuts she was passionate. She had nearly torn Dix’s head off during the mission. There was good reason to believe that she was just as zealous in bed.

  “She’s not here.”

  Lance shook free of his dirty little daydream, and hoped to hell his boner wasn’t causing a scene. The geeky little dude that sat in a corner away from everyone else was staring at him over the partition of his cubicle.

  “Any idea where she is?” Lance asked. Geek shook his head.

  “Probably at the gym,” the younger woman said. “She goes down there to hit things when she’s…in a mood.”

  “Thanks.” Lance didn’t doubt Riley was in a mood. He was fairly certain she hadn’t been read-in yet on the bomb Dix dropped during the debrief. But if Lance had been Dix’s number two, and had been ordered not to attend a debrief of a mission he had a key role in, he’d be in a mood, too. A foul one, where people could be seriously injured.