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

by Samantha Cole

  “Thank you, Colonel. I apologize to those in the back who can’t see me, but I’ll try to speak loud enough to be heard.” Captain Bryson and another officer stood and began handing out orange folders—the color signifying the information inside was extremely classified and was not allowed to leave the building. When the mission was complete, the pages within would be shredded and then incinerated. As the two men made sure every Delta member present got one, Haven continued. “The communications team at Deimos intercepted several attempts made by Mr. Smith to contact Preston Ward on Monday. For those of you who weren’t on the mission in Mumbai, that’s a persona the agency has cultivated over the years. Preston’s a reclusive computer hacker with a penchant for trading anything that piques his interest for cash or intel. We’ve made sure he’s on the watch lists for the FBI and CIA, as well as agencies around the globe, but his travel hasn’t been restricted. He’s also an expert at covering his tracks and has never been caught . . . obviously. It’s kind of hard to capture and hang a person who only exists on paper, unless he’s Flat Stanley.” Her sarcastic joke about the popular figure from an educational project that’d spread around the world was met with a bunch of chuckles, mostly from men who had kids.

  “Our computer specialist who portrayed Preston Ward in Mumbai is on his way to Texas with the two agents assigned to him. It could be a few days, a week, or a month before he’s contacted with the time and place for the exchange of $10 million for the codes to a nuke that was stolen from Russia in 1995. The US and its allies have been searching for it ever since. It’s one of dozens that went missing around that time, however, this one left a trail after it was taken. During the getaway, the codes were separated from the device, but we assume it was done on purpose with the intent of later reuniting the two. We know for a fact that never happened.” In other words, the codes were probably secured somewhere within the United States, having been recovered before now.

  “The device is roughly the size of an extra-large suitcase, and the codes were on a software protection dongle. For those who don’t know what that is, it’s the predecessor to DRM—digital rights management—used in gaming systems and digital media, like e-books. The hardware key is difficult to crack, and when it comes to a nuclear device, I highly doubt you want to take a chance it’ll go off if the wrong code is entered.

  “Now, when MI6 intercepted three known suspects in London, two months after the theft, they were no longer in possession of the nuke. There was a gun battle, and all three were shot and killed along with an agent and a police officer. We have no idea where the device has been all this time. Approximately eleven months ago, Mr. Smith showed up on the Dark Web searching for the codes. As I’m sure everyone here knows, his first attempt to get them was a failure—whether or not he was involved in the disaster in Mumbai is still up for debate.

  “Are there any questions?”

  Frisco had a bunch of them, but none were appropriate at the moment. They had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the beautiful spy at the front of the room. The spy he still hadn’t been able to see completely. Several men raised their hands, and Haven answered their inquiries as best she could. There were quite a few holes in the mission, as it stood now, but hopefully they’d be filled in as more intel came in and the meeting between Mr. Smith and Preston Ward was scheduled.

  When there were no more questions, the colonel addressed his men. “Another briefing will take place tomorrow at 0800. Captain Bryson will be the lead on this detail. First Sergeant Ingram, where are you?”

  Surprised at being singled out, Frisco jumped to his feet and stood at attention. “Here, sir.”

  “Stay behind and see me. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  As the teams filed out the two available doors, Frisco weaved his way through the small crowd. When he finally reached the front of the room, the colonel was talking to Haven. His cock twitched at the sight of her. Damn it, not now!

  Dressed in a professional, black pant suit, with a royal blue blouse, Haven had her hair up in a ponytail, just like the last two times he’d seen her. He yearned to pull on the elastic band, setting the strands free so he could run his fingers through them. In practically every fantasy he’d had, her hair was down, framing her face, as it had been during that fateful mission.

  Her gaze met his, and he could tell she was just as surprised as he was the colonel had requested to see him. A slight blush stained her cheeks, causing his ire from the other day to lessen under his reemerging lust for her.

  Standing nearby, Ghost loudly cleared his throat, catching Frisco’s attention with the clear but unspoken reprimand. Giving himself a mental shake, he stood at attention and addressed the colonel. “Sorry, sir. You wanted to see me?”

  “At ease, Frisco.” The use of the moniker, instead of his rank and last name, had indicated this was going to be a casual conversation. Frisco relaxed as the colonel continued. “I understand you and Agent Caldwell met in Mumbai.”

  Uh-oh.

  Twelve

  H aven’s stomach started doing backflips. She’d already known the colonel was going to assign one of his men as a go-between for her and his teams, but with approximately thirty soldiers in the room, she’d figured she had around a 3.3% chance of being paired with Frisco. Maybe she should go buy a lottery ticket.

  It was clear Frisco knew his supervisor’s intent as he responded, “Yes, sir, we did.” There was no need to explain further since the man was undoubtedly aware of everything that’d happened during and immediately after that mission—but did that include the death wish Haven had asked for?

  “Good. Since you’ll be on light duty for a few more weeks, I’m assigning you to Agent Caldwell. Make sure she has access to anything she needs from us. From what she’s told me, it’s easier to work out of her house where she has secure access to her agency.” He turned to Haven. “Agent Caldwell, thank you for opening your home to us. If you need anything, just let Frisco know, and we’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate that.” Haven’s smile was forced, but either the colonel didn’t notice or was polite enough to ignore it.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting on my agenda.”

  “Certainly.”

  As the older man left the room, Ghost held out his hand to Haven. “We haven’t had the pleasure yet, ma’am. I’m Captain Bryson, but you can call me Keane or Ghost, preferably the latter.”

  Laughing, Haven shook his hand. “Ghost it is, as long as you don’t call me ma’am. Haven will do.”

  “Okay, Haven, if you need anything and Frisco is off duty, you can call me anytime, and I’ll get it done.”

  He handed her a small card with his name and cell number on it. She slid it into a pouch attached to the right arm of the chair. “Thank you.”

  Turning, he addressed Frisco. “Let me know if you need anything delivered to Haven’s house—maps, comms, whatever.”

  “I will.”

  Whatever unspoken message the two men had as their eyes met, Haven couldn’t decipher. She had no idea if Frisco’s superior knew the details of his visit to her in the rehab hospital or their run-in at physical therapy a few days ago. After Ghost left them alone, silence filled the air. It took a moment for Haven to get the courage to look Frisco in the eye. “It seems I keep apologizing to you, but I’m sorry about the other day.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “I—you just caught me off guard . . . I . . . do you mind sitting for a minute so I don’t get a crick in my neck? There must be a height requirement for Deltas; you all seem awfully tall.”

  Her attempt at easing the tension between them didn’t seem to work, but at least he did take a seat in the front row. He crossed his arms and waited for her to resume the apology he rightfully deserved.

  “Thanks. Listen, I had no idea you were going to be assigned to me and I can’t figure out any way to change it. You have to follow orders, and if I request someone else, it will probably be
an issue with your superiors too, and I don’t want that to happen. So, I’m willing to work with you—hell, I’m willing to be friends with you—but that’s as far as it can go, Frisco. I’m dealing with way too much to even consider dating someone. I don’t even know how to date someone who’s not a target or a cover—it’s been far too long. Can we just be—friends?”

  She prayed he hadn’t heard that her question was filled with a combination of desperation and hope. She’d been thinking about him non-stop the past few days and couldn’t deny she was attracted to him. But it also went beyond that. She’d had fun joking around and conversing with him the other day, even if most of it was work related. Maybe her loneliness was getting to her. Avery, Kenny, Carter, and Jordyn were the only people she talked to nowadays. When she’d been a field operative, her covers and traveling had required her to talk to all sorts of people, even though she would classify herself as a loner. Acquaintances were fine. The occasional one-night or two-night stand? Those were okay too. But anything beyond that, she’d rather be alone.

  She hadn’t always been that way—she’d had plenty of friends in high school and college. When her mom and sister were alive, they were always laughing and talking about all sorts of things. Window shopping was a favorite pastime for the three women. They loved going into boutiques and trying on all the clothes they couldn’t afford. It was ironic Haven now owned clothes from the hottest designers in the world. She’d needed them for her cover, and the US government had paid for them. Not that she’d been wearing many of them anymore. There were boxes of high-fashion dresses, shoes, outfits, and accessories in the garage of her new home. Everything, except for the furniture, had been packed up from her apartments in Los Angeles, New York, Washington D.C., and London and shipped to her. She still hadn’t gone through any of the boxes.

  It surprised her she now hated the silence and alone time she’d craved these past thirteen years since she’d become a field operative for the most secret agency in the United States. She wouldn’t admit it, but she liked when Avery insisted on making conversation with her. She found herself looking forward to Kenny’s phone calls to check on her. She’d also grown closer to Jordyn and Carter. They tried to stop in whenever they could, and called when they couldn’t. But then, at night, after Avery and Roxie returned to the guest house, the deafening silence was starting to drive Haven crazy. She’d like to have people she could call friends again—she’d been without them for far too long—and she’d like to start with Frisco. Maybe someday, when she was finally able to do without the damn wheelchair, they could explore a romantic relationship.

  Frisco took a deep breath and let it out. “Friends, huh? I think I can handle that.” A smile spread across his handsome face. “This doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and convince you we can be more—after all, I’m a guy, and you’re an incredibly beautiful woman I’m attracted to—but I promise not to push. If I overstep my bounds and make you uncomfortable, just tell me, and I’ll back off. Deal?”

  She pretended to give it a long, deep thought, before she thrust out her hand. “Deal.”

  “Thanks, man.” Frisco shook hands with the young analyst from Fort Hood’s Intelligence Department who’d dropped off some updated maps and satellite photos of several areas everyone thought Mr. Smith might use for the exchange. He then escorted the soldier out the front door of Haven’s house. She’d cleared off an area on the rarely-used wooden desk in her office, for her new partner. Apparently, she spent most of her time in front of the large computer and monitoring system that occupied one whole wall on the opposite side of the room. A contractor had combined two standard-sized bedrooms to create one large area for her to work in. Frisco had actually been surprised she’d let him into her inner sanctum instead of banishing him to the dining room or kitchen table.

  With help from the intel guy, he’d spent the past hour pinning the maps and photos to the remaining three walls of the office. More monitors and other equipment would be arriving tomorrow. When they got the location for the exchange, they’d need to hack into any camera systems in the area. There’d also be live-action feeds coming from the Deltas’ body cams.

  As he strolled back to the office, her assistant’s dog, Roxie, followed him. She was extremely friendly and had taken to him immediately. Frisco missed having a dog around. He’d grown up with several, but never knowing when he’d be sent out on a mission or how long he’d be gone wasn’t conducive to owning one.

  He eyed the kitchen as he passed. It was designed for a handicapped person, as well as an able-bodied one. Some of the cabinets and countertops were low enough for Haven to use, and she would be able to roll close to the sink and cook-top, which had an open space underneath for her legs. The refrigerator/freezer was a side-by-side one, so she could access both. The bathroom was also retrofitted to accommodate her chair. The hallways and doorways were wider than normal, and furniture was placed so she could easily maneuver around each piece. Out back, there was a lap pool where she could strengthen her leg muscles, a patio with plenty of shade to relax on, and the guest house for her assistant.

  Avery Knapp was an interesting woman. To most people, she probably looked like exactly what she portrayed—a woman in her midfifties, with a nursing degree, who was an assistant/companion/housekeeper. While she was all that, Frisco saw more. When you were in black-ops, it was much easier to spot those who were also part of the community. It was in the way they greeted you, sized you up, and analyzed whether or not you were a threat, all within a second or two. She’d eyed him shrewdly when Haven had introduced them the other day, and he’d received her approval after interrogating him, in a roundabout way, for several minutes. If he hadn’t taken a course on the subtleties of questioning a target without revealing he was on your radar, Frisco may have thought she was just being friendly. He had no doubt, if he hadn’t passed her test, he would have been out on his ass. He also hadn’t missed the fact the petite woman was in better physical condition than most people half her age—and she was packing. The tell-tale signs of a concealed weapon at the small of her back had almost been undetectable under her loose fitting T-shirt and jeans.

  After they’d left the base the day he’d been assigned to her, Frisco had followed Haven to her home and was impressed by the security measures in place. The property was surrounded by a tall, stone and iron fence. While that was common in the surrounding neighborhood of expensive homes, what made this one special was the barbed wire that ran along the top of it, not high enough to be seen, but enough to rip someone’s hands to shreds if they tried to scale the wall. There were also sensors that were parallel to the wire on either side of it, that would signal the occupants of the house that someone was trying to gain entry. According to Haven, a certain amount of weight had to be applied so the alarm wouldn’t go off thanks to birds or squirrels. It wasn’t entirely fool-proof, but combined with other safeguards around the property and two houses, they’d give Haven and Avery time to defend themselves. While an attack was unlikely, given who they were employed by, all precautions had to be taken. Frisco had also learned that Haven’s van was actually made of bulletproof panels and glass. Avery’s SUV was too.

  Entering the large office, Frisco strode over to the desk and sat down in front of his computer. Roxie seemed undecided about who to go to, one of her constant companions or the newcomer who scratched her ears until she moaned, so she flopped down on the floor between them with a heavy sigh. Such decisions had to be exhausting for the active canine.

  Like she’d been for the past two hours, Haven was deep into something on her computer, searching the Dark Web. Frisco studied her while she scanned whatever was on her screen. He was pretty good with modern technology, and had even been on the seedier side of the internet a few times, but he usually left that to those who really knew what they were doing. Besides, he was more interested in the woman than what she was reading. He was sure if it was important, she’d let him know. The fact that she still couldn’t remember t
he mystery man she’d seen at the wedding was driving her nuts. When she wasn’t on the computer, she was pouring through the photos and videos from that night.

  They’d fallen into a comfortable routine the past week. The first few days, he’d arrived at 0800 hours, and they spent hours guessing at possible sites the suspect might choose. The three Delta teams had been dispatched to the Texas cities of Del Rio, Laredo, and McAllen, all on the Mexican border. It would be faster for at least one of the teams to get to the target destination from any of those locations. Carter and Jordyn had Reardon holed up in a safe house in San Antonio. The geek had his own setup there to access the Dark Web, but there hadn’t been any contact from the elusive Mr. Smith since he’d told “Preston Ward” the meeting would be somewhere south of the border.

  After Frisco had fallen asleep in the executive desk chair he was currently sitting in one evening, Haven had taken pity on him and told him to crash on the couch, due to the lack of a guest bed. Since then, he’d slept there every night, having brought some clothes and things in a duffel bag from his apartment. While he’d have preferred to sleep in Haven’s bed, the couch was actually pretty comfortable.

  Frisco glanced at the clock on his computer screen. “Hey, it’s six o’clock. Since Avery has the night off to visit with her niece, what do you say we order a pizza?”

  “Sounds good. Just no anchovies.” Haven hadn’t taken her eyes off the screen as she spoke.

  Sighing, he stood, strode over to her console, and rested his ass against the desk top. “Haven?”

  When she didn’t look at him, he cupped her chin and turned her head toward him. Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “You’ve been at it for hours—for days. You need to take a break. I’ll order a pizza, we can find a movie on TV and act like normal people for a change. You can’t work yourself into the ground.” The only breaks he knew she’d been taking were to sleep, shower, eat, and go to therapy. They’d coordinated their appointments so they could ride over together in her van.