by Anna Hackett
God, she was good and a badass.
“You’re good.”
She turned and pulled her earmuffs down around her neck. “I know.”
Hale tried not to smile. She wasn’t very tall, but her confident manner made her seem taller. She was wearing a sharp pantsuit, and he appreciated that the trousers gave him a decent view of compact curves. Her face was attractive, and combined with her gold-tinged skin, bright-blue eyes, and blonde hair, she made an impact. Add the gun and her confident posture, and she made him think of a Valkyrie.
“Your balance is slightly off,” he said. “Not by much. But if you move a little more of your weight forward, you’ll counteract the kick of the gun even better than you do now.”
She calmly reloaded her weapon. “Why should I take your advice? Because you have a penis?”
Hale pressed his tongue to his teeth. “No. Because I used to be a Navy SEAL, and carried a weapon every day.”
“Right, your big, bad SEAL credentials.” She raised a brow. “I’m guessing you manage to slip that into most conversations, especially when you’re chatting up pretty young things at bars.”
Well, yeah. “Most women find it interesting and intriguing.”
Her brow rose higher. “I work around men who carry guns all day long. Takes more than that to impress me.”
Your balls have officially been busted, Carter. And he still wasn’t turned off. The more Elin Alexander talked, the more intrigued he was.
Suddenly, she stepped closer and the scent of her hit him—fired gun and cool water. Now, why would that combination appeal to him so much?
She held out a gun to him. “Impress me.”
He took the Glock, a twin to hers. “I prefer a SIG Sauer.” He pulled his ear protection on, and stepped up to the line.
She touched something and several targets popped up. He realized it wasn’t a simple, stationary target, but multiple moving ones. She was really testing him.
Hale let himself fall into the zone. It was a place he’d learned to find before a mission. Before he’d leaped out of a plane, rappelled out of a helicopter, or dived off a boat.
He squeezed the trigger, taking his shots, moving steadily.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
As he learned the weapon, he adjusted his grip and balance.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The targets stopped, and he lowered the gun. They all popped back up. Every target had a single shot through the chest.
He pushed his ear protection off and smiled at her. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a millisecond, and she blinked her cool, blue eyes. Then her gaze met his again.
“Are you going to tell me ‘I told you so?’” she asked.
“Nope. A gentleman doesn’t boast when he kicks ass. Even one as fine as yours, Agent Alexander.”
She snorted. “Come on then, Mr. Carter. Let’s discuss our mission.”
“You got it, partner.”
He got another cool look. Oh yeah, Hale was excited for this mission. And knowing he was headed into the desert with Special Agent Elin Alexander by his side just made it all the more stimulating.
Chapter Two
Elin led Hale into a small break room off the main firing range. She sat in a chair at the battered coffee table, while Carter settled his six-feet-three-inches of hard-packed muscle onto the couch opposite her.
He was a big man, but didn’t move like one. No, he had a fluid, athletic grace, and added to that outrageously handsome face, he sure packed more of a punch than his photograph.
Okay, so the guy was good looking. She was an FBI agent…she was trained to notice these things.
He lifted his head and saw her watching him. He smiled, and Elin’s breath caught in her throat. That gorgeous, panty-melting, brain-fuzzing smile had caught her before. It had the power to make a woman’s brain go blank.
Note to self: when Hale Carter smiles, look away. He was like a solar eclipse.
Elin cleared her throat, keeping her voice businesslike. “As you know, we’re planning to meet in Cape Town with the rest of the Silk Road team. From there, we’ll head north to the Kalahari.” She leaned forward. “My cover name is Alex Elliott. You’ll be Carter Jordan. I figured we’d keep it close enough to our real names as possible to avoid any slip-ups.”
Carter lifted his chin. “I won’t slip-up.”
“You know I’ve been undercover with this Silk Road cell.” Months of burrowing deeper, and trying to gain their trust. It didn’t matter that some days she felt the scum clinging to her, it would be worth it to see this mission through, and drive a hard blow at Silk Road. “When we needed extra muscle on this expedition, I brought your name up. The story is that we’ve worked together in the past, and I vouched for you with the expedition leader, Claude Renard. So, if you screw up, we’ll both take the fall.”
Carter’s handsome face had turned serious, and he absorbed the words with a nod. “Tell me about Renard.”
Elin turned her phone over and showed him a picture. Renard was a thin man with a narrow, intense face, large, dark eyes, and a scar down his left cheek.
“He’s mean and short-tempered, but smart and organized. While we’re on this trip, I need you to follow my lead.”
Carter’s eyebrows rose. “You want me to follow along like a good little doggie?”
She shot him a narrowed look. “No. I know you’re good at your job, or Declan Ward wouldn’t have recommended you. But this is my investigation, and I need to know that if I give you an order, you’ll follow it.”
“Is that how you treat all men in your life, Agent Alexander? Sorry, Alex.” He rested his long-fingered hands on his jeans-clad thighs. “You give them orders and expect them to jump?”
Her ex had accused her of something similar. She lifted her chin. “You just do as I say, and we won’t have any problems.”
“Oh, I think there’ll be problems.” Carter graced her with one of his million-dollar smiles. “But don’t worry, Alex. I’ll assess each and every situation, and if your orders are what’s the best course of action, I’ll follow them and have your back. That’s what being partners is all about.”
“Partners?”
“That’s why I’m here. To work with you.”
He had the faintest drawl that Elin was sure sent women into convulsions. “Look, I think—”
“I think it’s time you tell me exactly what we’re looking for out in the desert.”
Elin stared at him. “Ever heard of the Lost City of the Kalahari?”
Hale frowned. “I didn’t think there were any cities—lost or otherwise—in the Kalahari.”
“I didn’t either, but Silk Road thinks there is. Once we get to Africa, I’ll update you on—”
A strong hand gripped her wrist, and her gaze shot back to his.
“Elin, we need to know everything. You want THS on standby as backup in case of an emergency. You want me by your side to help, not just be a bodyguard who’ll follow orders.”
Intelligence shone in the man’s eyes, and she realized she’d underestimated him. She’d expected the muscles, the skills in the field, and someone who was good under fire. What she hadn’t expected was Hale Carter.
She blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll share what I can. I’ll email you a file about the Lost City.” Elin glanced at her watch and stood. “I have another meeting to get to…”
“Let me guess, you’re never late.”
“No.”
“You ever just kick back and loosen up a bit?”
She glared at him. “No. I’ll see you in Africa, Mr. Carter.”
He winked at her. “Count on it, Agent Alexander.”
***
She was a beauty.
Hale leaned over the desk, tightening up the last of the screws. He lifted the grappling gun, settling it in his hands.
It was his best work yet.
He’d used big, bulky grappling guns in the Navy, but since he’d started at THS, in his free time, he’d been worki
ng on creating more compact versions. He’d tested his first prototype in the Amazon, on a mission to save the brother of Sydney Granger—who was his buddy Logan’s girlfriend—from Silk Road. It had worked well. The elegant blonde had also tamed wild, grumpy Logan, and now ruled the business side of the THS office with her slim fist.
This new version of the grappling gun was even lighter and smaller than his first. Darcy and Sydney had even bullied him into applying for a patent, and then conned Dec into showing it to a few of his military contacts.
Hale had always been more interested in fiddling with engines and electronics, than trying to sell any of his gadgets. Just like his mechanic mother, who still liked to tinker in the workshop his dad had built for her. His parents were another couple who were head over heels for each other.
He ran a hand down the grappling gun. This little beauty was all he needed, and she was coming with him into the Kalahari Desert. He also had some experimental grenades he’d been working on, and a shirt made from a high-tech, anti-ballistic fabric that performed better than Kevlar and looked no different than a regular shirt.
His gaze fell to the satellite maps spread out on the table before him. They all showed images of the Kalahari. It was one hell of a desolate place.
The red sands covered most of Botswana, and parts of Namibia and South Africa. He knew its name came from a local word meaning “a waterless place.” He ran his finger over the snaking line of a dry riverbed. As a SEAL and with THS, he’d spent his fair share of time in the desert. Apart from the Okavango Delta to the east, this one looked as barren as they came.
Beneath him, the yacht rocked a little, and he looked out the cabin window. His gaze met the magnificent view of Table Mountain overlooking the lively city of Cape Town. Today, the flat-topped mountain was missing its famous tablecloth of cloud, the sky behind it bright and blue.
Outside, the busy waterfront was bustling with activity. There were hotels, apartment buildings, restaurants and a large shopping center beyond. Cape Town was one of his favorite cities in the world, but in just a few short days, he’d be leaving civilization behind. His jaw tightened. Just him, Elin Alexander, and a bunch of notorious black-market antiquities thieves. Fun.
Hale heard the creak of floorboards behind him. He froze, instincts flaring.
His SIG Sauer P226 was resting on the desk, the pistol just out of reach. His fingers flexed on his unloaded grappling gun, and he set it down. Instead, he curled his right hand around his coffee mug. Hale didn’t need a gun to take down an attacker.
He spun, flicking the mug at the person sneaking up on him.
The woman dodged her head to the side, and smacked the cup away with amazing reflexes. The mug smacked into the wall and fell onto the cabin’s rug, the cold remains of his coffee soaking into the plush pile.
Hale stood and thrust his hands on his hips. “What the hell, Morgan? You know better than to sneak up on me.”
His Treasure Hunter Security colleague shot him a wry smile and shrugged. Morgan Kincaid was tall, toned, and lethal. Short, black hair feathered around an angular face, dominated by aqua-blue eyes. “I was just testing to see if you were on your game.” She snatched up the mug and set it back on the desk. “Can’t have you going soft when you’re about to embed yourself with scum.”
He scowled at her, well aware she was just jerking his chain. “I am not going soft.”
“Besides, you’re always tricky to sneak up on.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “It’s good practice.”
“If you want to practice your sneaking skills, try Coop.” Hale was pretty sure Ronin Cooper was born sneaky. The man hadn’t met a shadow he couldn’t hide in or a target he couldn’t sneak up on.
Morgan snorted. “I can’t sneak up on Coop. The man is too good.” Her mouth tipped into the closest Morgan would ever come to a pout.
While she dressed up under duress, Morgan preferred her cargo pants, guns, and knives to dresses and jewelry. She’d passed the rigorous BUD/S SEAL training, but when the Navy hadn’t allowed her to join the teams, she’d left. That’s when Declan Ward had snapped her up for Treasure Hunter Security.
A year ago, Hale had also accepted Dec’s offer to join the team. It had been the lifeline Hale had needed. That he’d made good friends at THS, like Morgan, was an added bonus.
She wandered over and pressed a hip to the desk. “When are you going to make me a grappling gun like this?” She pressed a finger to the dull grey metal.
“When I’ve worked out all the kinks, and you ask me nicely.”
She grinned, then her gaze shifted. “You’re studying satellite images?”
He nodded. “I wanted to get a feel for the land and what’s out there.”
“Not much, by the looks of things.” Morgan raised her head. “I came down to let you know Dec and Coop are out on the deck. There’s a call from Darcy, and she has some information about the expedition.”
Hale nodded and followed Morgan upstairs. Dec’s sister was co-owner of Treasure Hunter Security, along with her brothers. While Dec and Cal, both former SEALs, did the field work, Darcy ran the tech side of the business back in Denver, and was a whiz with computers. Whatever information they needed, Darcy could find it. Whatever supplies they needed in the field, Darcy could organize it. And whenever they needed a rescue, Darcy coordinated sending in the cavalry.
Hale and Morgan climbed up the steps, and into the bright sunshine spilling across the deck of the sleek yacht. He looked over and saw two tall, broad-shouldered men standing by the railing.
Dec and Ronin were the same height. Dec was a little broader through the shoulders, and the lines around his mouth said he smiled more. Coop didn’t smile much, and had a dark intensity that pumped off him.
Hale was happy to call both men friends and work mates. It wasn’t just that the men were good at their jobs, but Hale felt a deeper connection. Like him, he knew both men had done things they wanted to bury and forget. Thankfully, Dec had given them a job where they could still use the skills they were good at—shoot, fight, and take down the bad guys.
“Where’s Cal?” Hale asked.
“Talking with some local contacts about a helicopter.”
Hale grinned. “Probably squeezing in some skydiving, while he’s at it.”
Dec lifted his head, his hair, a few weeks past needing a haircut, brushing his collar. He waved them over to where he was propping a tablet with a heavy-duty cover up on the outdoor table. He turned it so they could all see.
Darcy Ward’s face filled the screen. She was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. As always, her dark hair was styled in a sleek cut that touched her jawline. Today, she was wearing a tailored blue shirt that made her blue-gray eyes look more blue than usual.
“Hi, everyone.” Darcy waved. “How’s Africa?”
“Cooling off, thankfully,” Hale answered. Darcy was sitting in the offices of Treasure Hunter Security back in Denver. While Colorado was shaking off the snow and the plants were blooming, here in southern Africa, the summer was giving way to the fall. No one wanted to be headed into the desert in the middle of summer.
“Where’s my fiancé?” Dec asked.
“Out at a dress fitting.” Darcy smiled. “You’ll be pleased to know the wedding plans are progressing nicely.”
Dec held up a hand. “Layne and I have a deal. I don’t have to pick flowers or try cake. All I have to do is get myself to the wedding on the right day wearing a tux.”
Hale covered his smile. Dec and Layne had fallen in love on a mission in Egypt and had been engaged ever since. A few weeks ago, they’d suddenly decided they didn’t want to plan a huge wedding and wait another year to tie the knot.
Darcy snorted. “It’s only a few weeks away, dear brother. You’d better hope Silk Road doesn’t keep you in Africa any longer than planned.”
“Then how about we get to work?” Dec suggested.
“I’ve been busy pulling together all the information I can for this ex
pedition,” she said.
“What have you got?” Dec crossed his arms over his chest.
“So, as you know, Silk Road is heading into the Kalahari Desert. Up until now, the FBI—” Darcy said the acronym like it tasted bad “—have been playing their cards close to their chests. But Agent Alexander sent through some data to Hale before you left Denver. We know what Silk Road is after.” Darcy paused dramatically.
Dec rolled his eyes. “Darce, can you quit the theatrics?”
The brunette pulled a face at her brother. “You’ve been spoiling my fun for thirty years now, Declan.” But her face turned serious. “They’re searching for the Lost City of the Kalahari.”
Hale frowned. “Elin mentioned it, but I’ve never heard of it.”
Darcy pushed her hair back behind her ears. “It all started with a tightrope walker and circus performer called the Great Farini.”
Hale sank into one of the chairs around the table. “This should be interesting.”
Darcy tapped on the screen, and some images appeared. Hale studied the picture of a man. It was an old photograph, and the man had a heavy beard and his hair parted severely down the middle.
“This is the Great Farini, born William Leonard Hunt in 1838. He was born in New York, but his family moved to Canada when he was young. He became obsessed with performing and acrobatics.”
“He wanted to run away and join the circus?” Morgan said.
“Yes,” Darcy said. “And that’s what he did. He performed around the world.”
“What the hell does a circus performer have to do with a lost city in an African desert?” Coop asked with a frown.
“Well,” Darcy said, leaning forward. “Farini met several San people, formerly called Bushmen, who were ‘on display’ as part of a circus show.” A look crossed her face. “It makes me sick to think of those poor people dragged from their homes and their land, and then put on show. The San people have called the Kalahari home for millennia. Rock art in the Kalahari Desert attributed to the San is over seventy thousand years old.”
“And?” Dec prompted.
