Alpha Bravo SEAL

by Carol Ericson

  Slade nudged her foot with the toe of his shoe and she waved him off.

  “I’m staying with a friend in Harlem. There’s a club not far from his place. It’s dark, crowded, noisy. We’ll meet there.”

  He gave her the name of the club and told her to be there at eleven o’clock.

  “Nicole?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come by yourself.”

  “I’ll see you then, Dahir. Be careful.”

  “You, too.”

  When she ended the call, Slade exploded. “You are not meeting that guy at eleven o’clock at night in some club by yourself.”

  “It’s Dahir. I trust him.”

  “Trust nobody, and even if he’s on the up-and-up, how do you know he hasn’t been followed? He might lead whoever killed Giles, Lars and Trudy right to you.”

  “I think it’s a chance we have to take. Maybe he has the film. Maybe Lars left a copy with him.”

  “I’m coming with you.” He held up his hands as she opened her mouth. “I’ll stay out of sight, but if you think I’m letting you walk into some lion’s den by yourself, you’re smoking something.”

  “I’m not smoking anything, and I’m counting on your being there. In fact, I’m not making a move without you, but I think we should put our trip to Coney Island tomorrow on hold.”

  “Why should we?”

  “You heard Dahir.”

  Slade rolled his eyes. “I heard a bunch of gibberish that didn’t make much sense.”

  “He said it’s not what I think and warned me against taking any more steps to find the film. His family’s lives may depend on that, and I’m not going to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.” She drummed her fingers on the counter. “You know what? The amusement park at Coney Island isn’t even open tomorrow, anyway. It’s Friday, and until the summer, Luna Park is open on the weekends only so we have to wait.”

  “Well, that’s that, I guess. Okay, we’ll see what Dahir has. He may just want help from you. Maybe he’s here illegally, because I sure as hell know we didn’t bring him over.”

  “I’ll give him that help if that’s what it is. Dahir put his life on the line for us every time he translated for those women and told their stories for them.”

  “All right. I’ll probably get an email back regarding the gun and where to take it for fingerprinting. I can work on that tomorrow while we wait for this meeting. I’m also going to head over to that club and scope it out beforehand.”

  She stifled a yawn. The moment between them had passed. She didn’t know what she was thinking, anyway. She’d been carried away by the gentleness of his touch. She couldn’t get involved with another adventurer, no matter how good his kisses felt.

  “I, uh, left the wine in the office. I’m going to grab that and put it away...unless you want more.”

  He watched her beneath heavy-lidded eyes, the tension of his previous expectations melting from his face. “I don’t need any more...wine. Are you turning in for the night?”

  “I am, Slade. I’m just so tired. It all hit me after Dahir’s call. I’m sorry...”

  He put two fingers to her lips. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get the wine and put it away. You get some sleep.”

  She replaced the phone in its cradle and turned, pausing on a half step. She could have him in her bed, making love to her, holding her. And then what? When this was all over, regardless of the outcome, he’d be halfway across the world protecting someone else, putting his life on the line for someone else—and she’d be waiting for a call. She couldn’t lose anyone else, and Slade Gallagher already meant more to her than he should.

  Huffing out a breath, she turned toward the staircase. “Good night, Slade.”

  “Good night, Nicole.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Slade beat her to the punch again and did a good job filling her mother’s kitchen with his shirtless presence as he made coffee.

  Was he trying to make her regret her decision last night? As the muscles in his back bunched and flexed while he reached for the coffee mugs, she wiped a little drool from the corner of her mouth and regretted it mightily.

  He swung around, the fingers of one hand hooked in the handles of both mugs, looking like some hunky maid service. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” She sat at the granite island and sank her chin into the palm of her hand. “You look...chipper.”

  She’d expected him to be morose and sullen over his missed opportunity last night—just as she was.

  “I slept well, despite missing Chanel, and woke up to an encouraging email.”

  “About the gun?”

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to bring it to the FBI office here in Manhattan.”

  “Am I allowed to tag along?” She pointed to the fridge as he placed her coffee in front of her. “Soy, please.”

  “Yeah, of course. I want you tagging along. It’s just safer, for now.”

  “I’m hoping Dahir will hand over the footage tonight. Once you guys have it and turn it over to the CIA, I should be out of the loop, right? There’s no reason for this terrorist cell to target me anymore, unless they go in for revenge.” She bit her lip as she swirled a stream of soy milk into her coffee. “They’re not in that business, are they?”

  “We don’t exactly know who they are. It may not even be a terrorist group.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “That’s why it’s important to get the prints from this gun today.”

  “Are they expecting you?”

  “In a few hours.”

  “I’m going to call and check on Livvy before we get going. Did you see anything in the news about an altercation on the train last night?”

  “No, but then that wasn’t big enough to make it to the local morning news. I’m sure our friend didn’t give the NYPD much information.”

  “I’ll take a shower and get dressed. I suppose we’ll have to stop off at your hotel again so you can get a change of clothes.” She grabbed her coffee mug and slid from the bar stool. “You know, if you’re going to make a habit of spending the night here, you might as well just pack a bag.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she twirled around and headed for the stairs. Was she sending him mixed messages? She usually didn’t play coy. If she wanted a man, she let him know in no uncertain terms—and she wanted Slade Gallagher.

  Forty minutes later she came back downstairs wearing a long cotton skirt and a denim jacket. A visit to the FBI office should be nice and sedate. At least, she wasn’t planning on crawling through a playground on her belly or dashing through a moving train. Although with Slade by her side, either one of those was a distinct possibility.

  Still parked in the kitchen, Slade glanced up from his phone as she wedged her hip against the center island. “Are we still on schedule for taking in the gun?”

  “An Agent Mills is going to meet us.”

  “How much does he know about our...your assignment?”

  His mouth quirked. “Just enough to run the prints through the Department of Justice and Interpol databases, if necessary.”

  “I hope identifying this guy sheds some light on the motivation behind getting this footage.”

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to believe more and more that your kidnapping by those pirates is also linked to all of this. That was their first attempt at stopping this film from getting anywhere, but those Somali pirates were freelancers and had their own ideas about what they wanted from your capture.”

  “Then the SEALs probably saved this group the inconvenience of taking out the pirates themselves.”

  “Possibly.” He’d eaten some eggs for breakfast and put his dishes in the sink.

  “You can leave those. Jenny will be over today to clean the place.” She felt a warm tinge in her cheeks at
the way Slade’s mouth tightened. “Honestly, Jenny likes to have something to do when she comes over.”

  He ran the water in the sink over the dishes. “I’m not judging.”

  “You kind of had that—” she stretched her lips into a straight line “—disgusted look.”

  “I’m sorry. It just sort of reminded me of...things.”

  “I know. I know. High-society, high-maintenance divas.” She waved her hands in the air. “Would it make you feel better if I told you my mom was a Vegas showgirl when she met Dad?”

  “Really?” His eyebrows jumped to his hairline.

  “She was, so while she definitely enjoys the money Dad left her, she never forgets where she came from and our housekeeper, Jenny, adores her. The two of them spend more time gossiping about celebrities than in any kind of lady of the manor–maidservant relationship.”

  “Is that why your mother is so accepting of what you do and the men you date?”

  Nicole snorted. “Accepting, maybe, but she thinks I’m crazy. She worked long, hard hours as a young woman and doesn’t understand why anyone would want to work if they didn’t have to. And the men I date? What do you know about them?”

  “Not much.” He lifted his shoulders. “I know about the guy who died on Everest—sorry.”

  “Yeah, crazy son of a bitch.” She rubbed the end of her tingling nose. “Are you ready?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  They took a taxi to Slade’s hotel and she tried to wait in the hotel lobby again, but Slade wouldn’t hear of it. “Let’s just be on the safe side. I won’t be long.”

  This time he spared her the visuals of his perfect body, although she could still hear the shower over the TV and her imagination probably got her hotter than the real thing.

  Then he burst from the bathroom in a T-shirt and jeans and she shook her head. Nothing about Slade was hotter than the real thing.

  “You okay out here?”

  “Just fine.” She sat up straighter in the chair and lowered the volume of the TV. “I did take a sparkling water from the minibar, if that’s okay. I’ll pay you for it.”

  “I’ll itemize it on my expense report.” He pulled a plaid shirt over his T-shirt. “I don’t think I need a jacket today.”

  “That’s why I’m wearing this.” She swished her skirt around her knees. “I think spring is on the way.”

  He pulled on his boots and stamped his feet. “Okay, let’s find out who was chasing us last night.”

  Handling the weapon carefully, he placed it inside a manila envelope. Then they grabbed a taxi to the federal building.

  Agent Justus Mills didn’t keep them waiting long. Nicole grinned to herself—had he fulfilled the prophecy of his first name?

  He shook hands with Slade and then her, raising his dark eyebrows to his bald pate. He must’ve been well versed in discretion, since he didn’t say a peep about her presence even though she could tell he was dying to.

  “I’ve got a room in the lab set up.” Mills jerked his head toward a long hallway. “Last door on the left.”

  Slade and Mills walked side by side and Nicole followed them, taking quick glances right and left into the sterile, boxlike rooms they passed. What did the FBI use these for, prisoner interrogation? She really had no clue how the FBI worked. She just hoped they could give them some answers.

  Mills stopped in front of a larger door than all the rest on the corridor and swiped a badge at the card reader on the wall outside. A green light beeped and the door clicked.

  “This way.” Mills pushed open the door and held it ajar as she and Slade scooted past him.

  Now this looked like the FBI of her imagination. Computer servers clicked and whirred in the chilly room and intense people stared at their monitors, searching for clues in the lines of text that scrolled across their screens.

  Mills led them to a room off the main lab and snapped the door shut behind him, as if to make the point that what went on out there wasn’t what was going on in here.

  Mills spread his fingers and pressed all ten fingertips on the table, which already contained items for lifting the prints. “You have the weapon?”

  “I had to check it in when we came into the building, but you must’ve cleared that ahead of time, because they gave it back to me once I got through the metal detector.”

  “It was all cleared beforehand.” Mills jerked two thumbs up at the ceiling. “Someone at a very high level is guiding this operation.”

  “I don’t even know who that is.” Slade pulled a handkerchief out of his front pocket and reached into the envelope. “I unloaded it and have tried to handle it without putting my own prints on it, but my prints are readily available if you need to check them.”

  “Yes, your prints have already been pulled, so they can be ruled out.” Mills hunched forward and inspected the weapon Slade had placed on the table. “Nice piece. If we don’t find a match here, we send the prints to Interpol. We can do domestic while you wait, but Interpol will take a few days—unless your people put a rush on it. I get the feeling it’s that important.”

  “It is. Are you going to dust in here?”

  “Yep. Dust, lift and transfer to the cards while you watch. Those are the orders I have.”

  “Do you mind if I sit down?” Nicole placed her hand on the back of one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs.

  Mills answered, “Be my guest. The actual procedure won’t take long.”

  She watched while Mills did the honors and Slade peppered him with questions.

  “You have the capability to do the domestic match here with the computers at DOJ?”

  “Right here while you wait. You can go down to the cafeteria and get some weak coffee, if you want. Your temporary badges will get you in there.”

  “How long will the fingerprints take?”

  “Thirty minutes, maybe more, maybe less. I have your cell phone number. I’ll text you whether or not we get a hit. If not, I won’t hold you up, and we’ll send the prints on to Interpol.”

  Fifteen minutes later with the fingerprinting process completed, Mills picked up the gun by the barrel. “I do have orders to keep the weapon, though.”

  “I know that. I got the same orders.”

  Nicole pushed back from the table. “Does that cafeteria have food as well as weak coffee? I could use some lunch.”

  “Take the elevator to the basement and you’ll see the signs, or just follow the smell of grilled cheese.”

  “Grilled cheese?” Nicole smacked her lips. “Now that’s a serious cafeteria.”

  Slade shook Mills’s hand. “Thanks, man. I’ll wait to hear from you. If it’s going to Interpol, you’ll let me know when those results come back?”

  “I’ll let you know and I’ll let my superior here know. She and I are the only ones who are aware this is going down, so it must be top secret.”

  “Like you said, pretty high-level stuff.”

  Mills blew out a breath and on a rush of words, asked, “Is it true you’re a Navy SEAL sniper?”

  “SEALs don’t operate stateside. You know that, Mills.”

  Ten minutes later, Nicole stood at the lunch counter, inhaling grilled cheese. “Mills wasn’t kidding.”

  “We don’t have to stay in the building. There’s a whole city block out there dotted with restaurants. Those prints aren’t going anywhere.”

  Nicole put her hands on her hips. “What? And miss out on grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  She proceeded to order one with a soda while Slade opted for the weak coffee.

  He paid for their food at the register while she filled up her cup with diet soda, and they wandered to a free table in the corner. Signs around the room warned of unauthorized personnel.

  Nicole sized up the room beneath her lash
es. “I suppose the spooks aren’t supposed to talk business in here.”

  “This is the FBI, not the CIA.”

  She picked up one half of her sandwich. “The FBI doesn’t have spooks?”

  “Agents, but I’m sure they’re not supposed to discuss business any more than the spooks are.”

  “Or Navy SEAL snipers on secret, illegal missions.”

  “Illegal?” He sipped his black coffee and grimaced.

  “Oh, c’mon. You know it, I know it and Mills knows it. The only ones who don’t seem to know it are the guys—and the girls—who gave you this assignment.”

  “Oh, they know it, all right, but they think it’s worth the risk of some political fallout or embarrassment.”

  “They can always claim national security. Isn’t that what the government always does?”

  “Have your years as a documentary filmmaker turned you into a conspiracy theorist?”

  “I’ve seen my share of government conspiracies.” She bit into the sandwich, her teeth crunching through the toasted bread and meeting the melted cheese inside. “Mmm, this is good.”

  “Just like Mom used to make?”

  “Ha!” She dusted the crumbs from her fingertips onto the plate. “I just got through telling you Mom was a Vegas showgirl and then a trophy wife. She didn’t do grilled cheese...or lunch, for that matter. Yours?”

  “Not my mom, but Rosalinda did. She was our housekeeper and made sure I had a pretty standard childhood.”

  She leveled a finger at him, noticed some melted cheese on the tip and sucked it off. “That’s the difference between me and you, Slade. I didn’t want the normal childhood. You spent too much time feeling guilty about your family’s wealth.”

  He threw his head back and guffawed at the ceiling. “Thanks for the psychoanalysis.”

  “You’re welcome. Anytime.” She took another bite of her sandwich and held the other half out to him. “Try it, rich boy.”

  Slade took a big bite that demolished almost half of the half. As he wiped his mouth with a napkin, he held up one finger. “That’s my phone.”

  He swiped a finger across the display and sucked in a breath. “They have a match.”