Grinch Reaper: Sleeper SEALs Book 8

by Donna Michaels

  He grasped the heavy-duty pit and set it aside with ease, as if it were made from aluminum instead of cast iron. “Bingo,” he said, pointing to a slight separation in the floor boards.

  Bella scanned the area with the TI. “Also clear.”

  The lack of traps and sensors bespoke of the naiveté of the sympathizers. But it made inspection easier.

  Matteo carefully lifted the board, and together they peered inside the cubbyhole to find a stash of weapons, cash, and passports. As quick as possible, they set it on the floor and photographed each piece with her digital camera before returning everything exactly how they’d found it.

  “We need to go,” Matteo said, setting the pit back in place while she stowed her camera and imager.

  Using his laser pointer, they avoided the trip wires and made their way back downstairs. Just as they reached the entrance, the thud of car doors slamming echoed outside.

  The men were back.

  Chapter Six

  With a firm grip, Matteo grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall into one of the offices as the front door opened and voices echoed inside. The way he pulled her into the adjoining room made Bella smile.

  It was cute how he thought she’d never evaded an enemy.

  Then he pressed her up against a wall, shielding her body with all those delicious muscles of his, treating her like a helpless victim he needed to protect. Or someone he cared about, her mind whispered. Whatever the reason, it was unnecessary, but damn sweet. And sexy. Actually, hot…the move was very hot. And so was she.

  Dammit.

  In the space of a few heartbeats, the voices grew fainter, along with footsteps that pounded the stairs…in tandem with her heart.

  Fighting the arousal threatening to take over, she pushed Matteo back enough to squirm away. He made her feel too much. And she didn’t want to feel. Not now. Not until she finished her mission. The most important one of her life.

  “Let’s go. It’s starting to get dark.” Without waiting for his reply, she opened the window and slipped outside, knowing better than to exit through the front door, now that the men were in the building.

  Several seconds later, Matteo joined her, and dropped his arm around her shoulders again while they walked down the sidewalk. “I think we should move in together.”

  With her heart dropping to her feet, Bella stumbled to a halt and twisted to see his expression under the street light. “What?”

  His laughter rumbled through her. “You should see your face.”

  “You’re going to see my fist if you don’t answer me.”

  This increased his laughter. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  If his words weren’t enough to put her into cardiac arrest, the quick kiss to her head nearly did her in. For a guy who used to give her a wide berth, never touched her, and made a point to never be alone with her, he was acting way out of character.

  She pulled back a little more and stared at him. Hard. “Who are you and what have you done with Matteo?”

  A wicked gleam entered his eyes. “Oh, it’s me all right. The version who’s starting not to give a shit about rules.”

  Although she wondered what rules he was referring to, she decided not to ask. Mainly because she liked this version and wanted him to stick around—once she completed her mission. With luck, that would be within the week. “So…you going to tell me about this moving in thing?”

  “There’s an apartment for rent, right there.” He nodded his head toward a building across the street with a sign in one of the second-floor windows. “It has a great view, doesn’t it, baby?”

  She glanced from it to the one where Tariq and Kamal were, and was admittedly relieved his offer was work-related. Smiling, she leaned into him. “Do you think we can rent it right away, honeybuns?”

  He snorted. “Looks seedy, so I’m betting cash talks fast.” His hold on her shoulder tightened as he led her across the street toward the apartment building.

  “Perfect.”

  It would make breaking back in to search Tariq and Kamal’s backpacks for the toxin much easier tonight.

  ***

  Later that evening, Matteo stood next to Bella on the tarmac at the local airport, watching the night sky swallow up the navigation lights of the Learjet with Knight, Brooke, and his father on board. He inhaled then expelled the breath slowly, wishing to God a vial of the toxin was on its way to D.C. with them.

  The soft touch of fingers brushing his warmed more than his hand. It warded off the cold chill that threatened over his father’s unknown future.

  “He’ll be okay.” Bella laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Knight has the best contacts.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, the commander never did anything half-assed.”

  After securing the apartment, Matteo had driven them back to the rehab center, so he could sign the transfer papers and fill Knight in on their findings. He felt confident that Tariq and Kamal were the sympathizers paving the way for Rasheed’s arrival, although he’d waited until Bella was out of earshot before sharing that with Knight.

  With surveillance in place, and an apartment rented near the rendezvous point, he knew it was only a matter of time before his target made an appearance, and he could make his move—without Bella.

  “Let’s get back to the apartment.” She released his hand to tap his face again. “Honeybun.”

  He got the impression she liked the feel of his beard. Hell, he’d be more than happy to rub his face over every sweet inch of her delectable body.

  He winked. “Whatever you want, baby.”

  One of the biggest things being a SEAL had taught Matteo was to live in the moment. Not to take anything for granted. Especially time.

  Now that they were adults, and it was obvious their chemistry had morphed into the killer range, he was done keeping his distance. To hell with that. Even if she was the one surprisingly fighting it.

  Grabbing her hand again, he welcomed the awareness rippling through him, and held tight when she made to tug free. Yeah, they’d definitely reversed their roles, but he was confident he’d win her over after his mission ended.

  Provided she didn’t find out he was going to protect her father’s killer.

  His gut hollowed as some of that confidence waned. Surely, she’d understand, once he explained.

  “I don’t think we’re being watched, so you don’t have to hold my hand,” she said as they walked through the airport parking lot.

  “I know,” he replied, with a grin that promptly disappeared.

  Like his car.

  Fuck. “Where the hell’s my car?” He released her to glance around the lot. His Charger was missing, and in its place sat a silver Camaro.

  “Relax,” Bella said, removing a key from her pocket to aim at the sweet ride. The doors unlocked with a muffled thud. “A friend dropped off my car and took yours to fix the window I broke.”

  He raised his brows. “You know a mechanic that retrieves and delivers cars?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Slater can fix anything with wheels. Don’t worry, your car is in good hands. I promise. So get in. He also picked up the takeout I ordered, and I know you don’t like cold Chinese food.”

  At the mention of food—and sound of the engine starting—he hurried to her car and climbed into the passenger seat. The delicious aroma of General Tso reminded his stomach he hadn’t eaten since lunch. It grumbled in approval. “When the hell did you order all this?”

  “The food? Or the cars?” she asked, shifting into drive.

  “Both.”

  “Before we left the rehab center.”

  In less than ten minutes, they were seated at a table across from each other at the apartment, which she also managed to furnish while they were gone.

  The kitchen now sported a brand-new refrigerator. Fully stocked.

  He’d checked.

  A huge couch, matching armchair, and floor lamp sat in the open-concept living room, along with her backpack, which rested
against the wall. Two folding chairs were pushed under a large table in the corner that held state-of-the-art surveillance equipment on top.

  Even the bedroom was no longer empty. It housed a damn bed. King size.

  He’d checked that, too.

  How the hell had she pulled this off?

  Using chopsticks, he dug a hunk of chicken out of his container and nodded at the room. “You going to tell me how we acquired this table we’re sitting at, and the rest of the furniture in this place?”

  She shrugged, and although her lips weren’t smiling, amusement sparkled in her eyes. “I know people.”

  He laughed. “That doesn’t sound dangerous or anything.”

  “Not everyone I know is dangerous.”

  Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, the tightness in his chest increased. He decided to dig a little. “Was it people from work?”

  She continued to eat, but gave him another non-committal shrug. Her guard was back up. No sense in pushing. The woman was too stubborn to drop her guard without a fight, and he didn’t want to fight.

  So he switched gears. “Did your equipment record while we were gone?”

  The monitors currently showed Tariq and Kamal reading by the fire in their fire pit, listening to a traditional Middle Eastern folk song that wafted over the speakers to them.

  “Yes,” she replied. “We can start to comb through it whenever you’re ready.”

  He finished the last of his food, tossed his empty carton in the trash, and smiled at her. “How about now?”

  She returned his smile. “Works for me.” She threw her trash away and stood. “How about you grab us drinks, and I’ll call up the feed?”

  “On it.” He swiped two bottles of water from the fridge, and joined her at the other table, putting on the headphones she handed him.

  For nearly two hours they took turns listening to old feed, while the other monitored the current feed, and glanced through the photos of the stash. They also took turns getting up to survey the building through a set of night vision goggles.

  So far, their efforts reaped little reward. But the night was young.

  Knight also had a copy of their findings, and Matteo and Bella had already read the files of the men in the passport photos. Tariq and Kamal were Kevin Barber and Ron Preston. Both twenty-four, from upstate New York. No priors. Knight’s people were digging further.

  Twenty-three minutes into the third hour, he removed the earphones and set them on the table next to Bella’s. He glanced around the room, but it was empty. She must be in the bathroom. He hadn’t realized she’d gotten up. Probably when he was replaying the argument between the men. Kamal was complaining about Tariq burning the section of the newspaper that listed community events.

  Matteo made a mental note to go online and track down the list. But first, he needed to stretch the kink out of his back. The men were asleep on the current feed, their snores competing with one another in a room growing darker as the flames died out in the fire pit.

  Rising to his feet, he flexed his shoulders a few times before walking to the window to get his circulation going.

  A shadow moving outside the abandoned building snagged his attention. He swiped the night vision goggles off the table and observed the shadow, noting it had very familiar curves.

  Bella.

  His heart slammed to a halt, before beating at an unnatural rate of speed. “Son-of-a-bitch.” Glancing at the wall, he ground out another curse. Her go bag was gone, too. He whipped out his phone to call and chew her out, but he couldn’t for two reasons.

  One, he couldn’t take the chance that it would set off the booby-traps. And two, he didn’t have her number.

  But she sure as hell had his. Damn woman was going to be the death of him. And the longer he stood watching her slip inside the window they’d exited earlier, and head all the way up to the third floor—in the fucking room where the men now snored—the tighter he grasped the goggles, mirroring the grip apprehension had on his heart.

  What the hell was she doing?

  They’d already searched the place. Short of going in there to haul her ass out and risk alerting the men, he would have to wait for her to return to chew her out, and get answers, then chew her out some more.

  She shouldn’t be in there. And she sure as hell shouldn’t be in there alone.

  For eight minutes and forty-two seconds, he stood helplessly by while she slipped a gas mask over her head and released a silent canister of some kind into their room.

  Thank God it wasn’t flammable. A few embers still flickered in the pit.

  After standing still for a full minute, she made her way to backpacks by their mattresses and riffled through them, pulling out a vial from one. Turning toward the camera, she held it up and he knew she was smiling behind the mask.

  He didn’t feel like smiling. The invisible weight on his chest rivaled that of a damn building. He could barely breathe, and when he did, it hurt like hell.

  Willing her to just grab the damn thing and get out of there, he watched the reckless woman collect a sample of the toxin with a dropper, and place it into another vial. Finally, she put everything back the way she found it, and retraced her steps, making her way out of the building.

  All right. She wasn’t reckless. In fact, she was capable and efficient, but he still hated her being in that building alone.

  Just as relief eased the tightness in his chest, a figure emerged from the shadows. Christ. He wished he had his gun with him, instead of locked in a safe at his dad’s place. Her posture remained relaxed and not defensive, so he stayed glued to the spot while she interacted with the figure before it disappeared into the night, and she crept toward the apartment.

  Once he was certain she was in the building, he set the goggles on the table and started to pace, trying to work off the adrenaline and anger heating his veins. He was going to wring her pretty little neck.

  By the time she entered and set her pack on the floor, he hadn’t calmed down. In fact, he was close to losing his shit. Which explained why he pounced on her, grasping her by the shoulders and pressing her against the wall. “Are you crazy?”

  With a strength that startled him, she immediately reversed their positions, until she slammed him against the wall and glared into his face. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  For several seconds, they took turns as presser, until he used his body to keep her in place, his ragged breaths mixing with hers.

  Big mistake.

  All the adrenaline pounding through his veins switched to a desire so fierce he throbbed. She did too, in the form of a tremor he absorbed with his body. He’d never been so damn turned on in his life.

  Her gaze darkened to a deep emerald as she stared at his mouth. Not enough training in the world could prevent him from reacting to the need coursing between them—to prevent him from breaking the promise he made to his dad to treat her like a sister, all those years ago. His temperature spiked to unsafe and his mind shut down.

  Fuck it.

  Releasing his grip on her shoulders, he eased back just enough to cup her face in both hands and brush his thumb over her parted lips.

  The time for denial was over. It was time to taste the woman he’d longed to kiss for more than a decade.

  Chapter Seven

  With his heart slamming against his ribs, and need spiraling out of control, he lowered his mouth until they shared a heated breath.

  Then his phone rang.

  Followed by hers.

  “Shit,” someone said.

  Probably him. Could’ve been her.

  Either way, they broke apart to answer their calls.

  The only reason he let go of his desire to kiss Bella was because Knight was supposed to update him on his father. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he drew in a deep breath, then released it as he noted Knight’s number on his caller ID.

  “How’s my father, sir?”

  “Good, but he’ll be even better no
w that the doctors can identify the toxin, thanks to the sample that’s on its way.”

  How the fuck…?

  He shot his gaze to Bella, but her back was to him as she talked on her phone.

  The figure in the shadows must’ve been one of Knight’s agents.

  “Latest chatter still puts Rasheed in Atlantic City this month. But all indications are he hasn’t surfaced yet.”

  “Well, Tariq and Kamal are definitely waiting for someone to arrive.” He went on to explain the room with the bed, and clothes, and food.

  “Yeah, they’re expecting company.”

  “Have your people gotten anything off the photos of the contents of their stash and trash we sent?” he asked, noting that Bella was off the phone. “Hang on, sir. I’m going to put you on speaker, so Bella can hear too.” He hit the button and walked toward her with the phone in his palm. “Go ahead, sir.”

  “Hi, Bella,” the commander greeted. “Brooke and I will be flying back up in the morning to assist. I already sent both of you the files on the guys you’re surveilling. Did you get them?”

  She smiled as she neared. “Hello, sir, and yes, we’ve already read them.”

  “Good. Our technicians determined the weapons came from a shop in Camden.”

  Matteo bit back a curse. It was way too easy. “I don’t like it. They didn’t even try to scratch out the serial numbers. They’re either really reckless, or following orders, which would be worse.”

  “I know.” The commander’s sigh rustled through the phone. “It’s the reckless part that has me worried. By not covering their tracks, it tells me they don’t plan to get caught.”

  “They plan to get dead,” Bella said.

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  “It backs up the chatter we’ve heard about an attack during the holidays,” Knight said. “Is there anything big going on in AC this month?”

  “A few things,” Bella replied. “A live, televised Christmas concert at the Capris, with several popular singers. A Christmas parade down the boardwalk. Each casino hosts huge New Year’s Eve bashes. And my personal favorite, a Grinch convention where I think Matteo would fit right in, since he loves the holiday so much.”