Special Forces_Operation Alpha_Handling Haven_A Deimos/Trident Security/Delta Team Crossover

by Samantha Cole

  By the time Frisco’s appointment was over, Haven was lying on her back as Clarissa massaged her thin legs. It would take more therapy before the muscle tone was built up again, but she was definitely on her way to a decent recovery. He was glad to hear the doctors still believed she’d walk again. She’d been lucky—a millimeter in the wrong direction and that wouldn’t have been a possibility. As she laughed and joked with the others in the room, Haven seemed okay with the fact she wouldn’t get one-hundred percent use of her legs back and was willing to take as much as she could get. Damn, he was proud of her—she’d gone from wanting to be dead to looking like she was ready to take on the world again.

  When she sat up at the end of her treatment, he handed her a clean towel he’d grabbed from a nearby shelf. She thanked him, then wiped her face with it. “Do you mind if we get takeout for lunch? After sweating my ass off, I really don’t want to sit in a restaurant. Or maybe we better do this some other time,” she added as she deftly swung herself into the wheelchair the PT aide had moved closer to the cot.

  “No worries. Takeout is fine with me.” Frisco wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He’d been dreaming of her for months and now he was afraid if he let her go, he’d never see her again.

  “Okay.” Haven wheeled her chair around him and headed for the door. “See if you can keep up, slacker.”

  Frisco grinned as he hurried to catch up to her. “Slacker, huh?”

  They continued out to the parking lot, chatting about everyday things, just like any ordinary couple, which they were so far from being. Haven and Frisco had seen and done too many things for their country to be considered “ordinary.” Maybe that was another reason Frisco felt such a strong attraction to the female operative—she understood what it was like to be someone who had to keep his true professional life a secret from the public world. While there were many missions neither could give details about, they’d be able to talk in general terms and have the other fathom what they’d gone through.

  Haven stopped next to a van parked in a handicap spot near the front entrance to the hospital. “It’s probably easiest if you follow me. I know a little shack with great burgers right next to a park we can eat in.”

  “You’re driving?” When her eyebrows shot up, he scrambled to cover his faux pas. “I mean, it’s great that you are. There’s no reason you shouldn’t . . . I mean, I’m just surprised you can . . . um . . . that came out wrong . . . sorry, but how . . .”

  She held up a hand to stop him from babbling further. “How do I use the pedals when I don’t have full control over my legs, yet? The driver’s setup has been modified with an accelerator and brakes I control with my hands. It took a shit ton of lessons to get used to it, but, so far, I haven’t run over any little old ladies—so all’s good.

  “That’s always a good thing.” He was relieved she hadn’t taken offense to his shock and questions. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he said, “All right, then. I’m parked a few rows over in a navy-blue Charger. I’ll meet you at the exit.”

  “Muscle car, huh? And here I thought you were a pickup man.”

  Ten

  P utting the van in park in a handicapped space that gave her the room she needed, Haven took a moment to collect herself. The last person she’d expected to walk into the PT gym today was Lucas “Frisco” Ingram. Not wanting Carter and Jordyn to know she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the guy since he’d come to visit her in the hospital, she’d asked Kenny to get her the intel on him. A few weeks later, when she’d been released and moved into the handicapped-accessible home the US government had acquired for her, complete with secure internet access, she’d done her own research on him . . . not that she found much more than Kenny had given her. Her favorite thing to look at was Frisco’s high school yearbook she’d found online. He was a hunk back then, too, and had been voted “Nicest Eyes” and “Homecoming King.” He’d been one of three co-captains on the varsity football team and, when they’d won the state championship, been named MVP after breaking the school record for rushing yards by a running back. Haven was sure she would’ve been even more impressed if she knew what a running back was and why he was rushing. Football wasn’t her thing.

  Unlocking her chair from behind the steering wheel, she rolled back to the side door and slid it open. Frisco had parked in a regular spot nearby. He now stood and watched as she secured the chair to a platform that would move her out of the vehicle and lower her to the ground. It was a slow process, but one she’d gotten used to. Hopefully with a few more months of healing and therapy, she’d be able to ditch the specially-equipped van altogether.

  After the lift went back into the van, Haven shut the door, then wheeled over to Slim’s Shake Shack—a hamburger, hot dog, and malted shake stand that operated from the back of a large, converted, box truck—in the corner of the parking lot. The owner was a retired fireman who made some of the best damn burgers she’d ever had. She’d found the little hut one day when Jordyn had been in town without Carter, who’d been on a mission. The two women had taken advantage of the comfortable weather and decided to go for a stroll—or roll in Haven’s case—around the lake that was at the center of the park.

  After placing their orders, Frisco refused to take money from her, treating her to lunch. Once they had their burgers and sides, they doctored them up with condiments set on a shelf next to the cut-out window of the truck. Haven then put their cans of soda on her lap and followed Frisco, who carried their plates, over to a picnic table in the shade of a tall elm tree. Wanting to be on the same level as him, Haven locked the wheelchair, set the sodas on the table, then easily transferred herself onto the wooden bench across from her lunch date.

  It was a beautiful day, something Haven never thought she’d enjoy again. While the sun was shining high in the sky, the temperature was only in the low 80s.

  “If these things taste as good as they smell, I’ll be in heaven,” Frisco said as he placed her plate in front of her.

  “I guarantee you’ll love it. I come here at least twice a week to get one.”

  “Well, that explains why Slim knew your name and didn’t need to ask what you wanted beyond ‘the usual.’”

  She dipped a french fry into a blob of ketchup and smirked at his comment. “Yeah, go figure. For years I made sure nothing I did was out of habit. No patterns for anyone to follow and use to ambush me. Now, I’m doing a lot of the same stuff each week. Although, I do take a different route each time I go anywhere. Some habits die hard.”

  Frisco took a huge bite out of his “Double Down” burger—two beef patties, pepper jack cheese, bacon, and fried onions topped with barbecue sauce—and moaned loudly through his full mouth. Haven chuckled, knowing exactly how he felt.

  “Told ya,” she said before digging into her own avocado-topped burger. They ate in a comfortable silence for several minutes while Haven studied the man who’d saved her life, despite her protests at the time. His medium-brown hair was even longer than she remembered, as was his beard, but she’d recognize those wicked, hazel eyes anywhere, especially when they were focused on nothing but her.

  “So . . .” he started between swallowing a mouthful and taking a sip of his cola. “What did you need my help with?”

  Haven took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What she was about to ask him was going to bring back a lot of bad memories for both of them. “I need you to tell me what happened that night, from your point of view.”

  His hand had been halfway to his mouth with three french fries when it froze. He frowned as he stared at her. “What? Why?”

  “I’m hoping you can jog my memory. Nothing else has worked.” She glanced around to make sure they were completely alone . . . one of those habits that wouldn’t die. “Apparently I recognized someone who shouldn’t have been there right before the explosion. Kenny said it was one of two guys we saw in the hallway before we entered the library. I was waiting for them to either follow us in
or walk past the door so I could get a better look. But neither of those things happened before the explosion went off. I’ve looked at the surveillance videos we recovered but nobody stuck out who hasn’t been identified already. I’m sure you heard that some of the video feeds had been tampered with, and half the footage is nothing but static or blank.”

  “Yeah, Ghost—Captain Bryson, who was on lead for my team for the mission—mentioned it a few months ago. Said they still haven’t figured out who has the nuke. Whoever it is has gone silent, not even popping up on the Dark Web.”

  “It’s driving the Deimos intel techs nuts. They’ve been searching for any sign of the nuke or Mr. Smith with no results. I’ve gone through all the available videos and still photos. I’ve spoken to every Deimos and Trident Security operative that was there. Hell, I even had the agency shrink hypnotize me. Nothing. It wasn’t the bastard that shot me, nor was it the guy I killed before we jumped out the window. We’ve identified both of them and gone through their known associates. Still, zilch. So, since you’re one of the few people I haven’t spoken to yet about that day, I was hoping something or someone you saw will help jog my memory. I remember leaving the ballroom, but after that, everything is just flashes of moments, nothing consistent.” However, those gorgeous eyes of his were one thing she hadn’t forgotten.

  “I don’t know how much I can help since I was in the jungle for most of it, but if you think it might work, okay.” He popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth, then pushed the plate of fries to his right. Resting his elbows on the table, he swallowed, then took a deep breath. “God, this is weird. It’s rare I can talk about a mission outside the Deltas—hell, I can’t even tell most people I am Delta—but I was told that you, and the rest of your agents, are cleared for intel sharing about that mission.”

  She completely understood that. There were very few people in the world, who didn’t work for Deimos, she could discuss her assignments with.

  “All right, let’s see. We didn’t know you all were there until Sawyer joined Hollywood and me and we merged the two communication systems.” Frisco proceeded to give her a rundown of what he remembered from that point, most of which she’d heard already from her fellow agents and the Trident teams. He paused a moment to take another sip of his soda. “We’d just gotten a photo of you and Reardon—by the way, you rocked that dress.”

  Another blush spread across her face. What the hell? She never blushed, and here she was doing it repeatedly in this man’s presence. She was attracted to him, that she couldn’t deny. However, she couldn’t help but think it was a warped case of hero worship, even though she hadn’t wanted him to save her life when they’d first met. And she was sure the attraction was one-sided. He obviously liked to flirt, but her wheelchair had to be a complete turn-off, didn’t it?

  Frisco continued as if he hadn’t just given her the compliment. “I remember you starting to say something moments before the explosion, but we couldn’t make out what. You’d said a word or two, so we knew it was you talking, then there was a burst of static. Sawyer asked you to repeat it, but from the sound of things you couldn’t.”

  Haven nodded her head. “Kenny said two couples had gotten drinks at the bar in the library, then stepped closer to us so I couldn’t repeat whatever I’d said, which apparently was that I wanted to get a better look at the guy I recognized.”

  “But you never saw him again.”

  “No. What happened after the explosion?”

  “Total chaos. People screaming and running outside. I never saw you jump out of the window, there were too many people coming out on our side. Every operative was looking for you. Sawyer’s teams were about to break cover and go help evacuate while looking for you, when suddenly your dress caught my eye. You and Reardon were running straight for us. You’d either kicked off your shoes or lost them. You were limping but still moving quickly, covered in soot and blood.” He pointed to her left forearm, which bore a faint scar. “Your arm was bleeding. I—I barely heard the shot, but I saw the . . . the moment you were struck.”

  His last few words came out as a hoarse whisper, and he swallowed hard. Haven had to hold back her tears at the sight of this strong man having a moment of grief over the recollection of the event that changed her life completely. She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. They sat in silence as they both struggled to regain their composure. Finally, Frisco cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. After all my missions and being on the front lines of battlefields, you’d think I’d be used to it, but it never gets any easier when you see that, even if it’s a teammate you barely know or, in our case, hadn’t met yet.”

  “Jordyn told me you’ve lost teammates before.”

  Sadness filled his eyes as the memory of those men clearly swirled to the forefront of his mind. He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Seven of them in two separate incidents, although even one is too many.”

  Laughter broke the tension hanging in the air as two young children ran past their table toward the lake, while their mother shouted for them not to get wet from where she was spreading out a blanket on the grass nearby.

  Frisco cleared his throat again. “Anyway, back to that day. I saw you falling, knew what’d happened, jumped to my feet, and ran toward you.”

  Before he could say anything more, she interrupted him. “You can skip the part where I was an ungrateful bitch.”

  The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Okay, skipping that part. After that, Hollywood and Sawyer covered us. Sawyer’s sniper, Donovan, took out the shooter, and then the Trident helicopter swooped in to extract us. And if you haven’t met Babs yet, I’ll tell you, that woman is freaking awesome. Definitely earned her handle for being a bad-ass bitch. She landed the Blackhawk and got us out of there in record time.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure, yet, but I’ve heard all about her. So, that’s it? Nothing else stands out?”

  “No,” he answered while shaking his head. “Sorry. But you know that when the shit hits the fan it’s hard to recall specifics afterward. I can review my report and see if I forgot anything.”

  Haven shook her head. “Don’t bother; I’ve already read it and everyone else’s from that day.”

  Frisco snorted. “I can’t imagine what security clearance you have for that—and I’m probably better off not knowing. So, I guess my stroll down memory lane didn’t help, did it?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Who knows, maybe I didn’t know the guy and just thought he looked familiar.”

  “But you don’t think that’s the case, do you?”

  “No.” Haven suddenly realized Frisco was still holding her hand as if he’d been doing it for years. She wasn’t sure if he knew his thumb was caressing her wrist. The gentle rhythm was sending sparks to the nerve endings under her skin, through her body, straight to her core. While she didn’t have full use of her legs yet, the feeling had returned to her lower abdomen and all the way to her toes—and everything in between. And right now, what she felt between her legs was lust and desire. Before the shooting, she would’ve acted on that, seducing him until she got what she wanted—him in her bed. She’d always been picky about which men she hooked up with, even dating a few for several months or enjoying an occasional friends-with-benefits relationship. But since the wheelchair next to her had become such a huge part of her life, she hadn’t been attracted to any male—until now. Why this man? He’d seen her at her absolute worst. She’d begged him to do what he considered to be an unspeakable act, yet, here he was, having granted his forgiveness, enjoying lunch with her.

  Pulling her hand from his, and immediately missing the warmth of the contact, Haven stacked their plates together. “I really need to get back to work. I’m an intel tech now.” While she wasn’t as adept as some of the hackers and specialists at Deimos headquarters, she was still able to gather a lot of information needed by the field operatives. Her field experience helped because she was able to zero in on intel they needed instead of maki
ng them weed through the excess it was buried under. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “My pleasure.” Grabbing the plates and empty soda cans, Frisco stood and tossed them into a nearby trash can before returning to the table, while Haven got situated back into her chair. “So, why here?”

  His question threw her off as she began to propel the wheelchair toward her van. “Huh? Why here, what?”

  “From what I understand, your headquarters is somewhere in California, so why are you in Texas?”

  “Ah. Even though the main compound is out west, we have operatives all over the States, preferably near military bases in case backup is needed on a grand scale. The rehab hospital here is one of the best for my injury, so Harker Heights is where I now call home—the first one I’ve slept in for more than a month straight during most of my adult life. My superiors set everything up for me. I’ve got a handicapped accessible home, the van you saw, and it’s close enough to Fort Hood.” It took her less than twenty minutes to reach the base where, with her extremely high government clearance, she had access to almost every inch of the place.

  “That’s great . . . I mean, of all the places you could have ended up, I’m glad it was here.”

  When they reached her van, Haven pulled out her keys and activated the remote that would unlock the door and bring the lift out and down for her. While they waited for it, Frisco stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and rocked back and forth on his feet. “So, when can I see you again? I’d like to take you out to dinner or something . . . you know, on a date.”

  If she’d been standing, she would’ve been knocked off her feet. She gaped at him, trying to make sure she’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean ‘a date’?”

  “A date.” He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “You know—a guy like me, with a really hot woman, like you, who turns him on, going out somewhere that has waiters, wine glasses, and china. They order from leather-covered menus, and the whole time, he’s wondering what his chances of getting a goodnight kiss are. That kind of date.”