Chasing Fortune (Stealth Ops Book 8)

by Brittney Sahin

  He didn’t give a damn about the treasure, but he’d love nothing more than to hear Rory talk about it. See her face light up. Hear the inflections in her voice while she talked about one of her other passions aside from animals. Plus, he had a feeling she was a bit on edge like him tonight, too. Maybe because he’d seen her scars. Or because her ex was there. Or hell, because she was nervous about sharing her secrets tonight.

  “Sure.” Harper hooked her arm with Chris’s, urging him to move since he was stuck in place gawking at Rory.

  Rory smiled brightly, and they went back inside and reconnected with Roman, who’d taken a moment to sample a few tapas.

  “So,” Rory began, turning toward the first glass case closest to the terrace. “This piece is the first find that helped Andrew realize what he’d stumbled upon.”

  Inside the case was a bronze cannon with dolphins on the side. It’d been cleaned and polished, but the age and wear from being beneath the ocean were evident.

  “I looked for this galleon for years,” Rory said softly. “Most of the research he used to finally locate the ship came from me.”

  “Wait, what? No finder’s fee, then?” Harper asked in surprise.

  “I don’t care about that. Just glad all of these amazing pieces aren’t sitting at the bottom of the ocean,” she answered, and a beautiful kindness crossed her face. “But those cannons were how Andrew realized he’d found one of the Spanish galleons that had gone down during the War of Spanish Succession in the early seventeen hundreds.”

  “Weren’t the rights to the ship disputed?” Roman asked, and of course, he’d know that. He knew everything.

  Rory nodded. “Andrew found the ship, but it was Spanish in origin, so Spain tried to claim it. And then, since the wreckage was off the coast of Colombia, the Colombians wanted ownership. A three-way fight. But Andrew didn’t have any interest in keeping what he found, so both countries came to a deal and offered him a wreckage fee of one hundred mill, and the artifacts were donated to museums.”

  “And the gold and silver?” Chris asked.

  “Spain and Colombia are probably still fighting over that,” Rory explained.

  And Rory’s research led to that? Wow.

  “I can relate to the tug-of-war. My father’s side is from Spain. My mom’s family is Brazilian.” A smile formed on Roman’s lips. “And my grandparents fought over what language should be my native tongue before I was even born. Spanish or Portuguese.”

  “What’d your parents do?” Rory asked.

  “My parents moved to Florida, and I grew up speaking English,” Roman replied with a light laugh.

  Chris took a moment to process the fact Roman had just opened up about his background, and then he set a hand to Echo Four’s shoulder. “Bet you went ahead and taught yourself both Spanish and Portuguese anyway, right?”

  Harper smiled. “Of course, he did.”

  “Looks like the organizers of the party chose Spain.” Chris motioned toward the décor, and Rory nodded in agreement.

  “So.” Roman cleared his throat as if still shaking off the surprise he’d shared something about himself so candidly. “How’d Cutter salvage treasure?”

  “He used a robot submarine with a dive range of up to four miles, same kind of tech used to locate downed aircraft in the ocean.” Rory’s eyes were bright and expressive as she continued to explain more about the wreckage while they followed her to the next exhibit.

  “And you participated in dives for treasure back in the day?” Harper looked down at a sword sheathed by a metal scabbard, the brass-finished hilt and corded grip, on display in the next case.

  How much was everything in the room worth? Would anyone risk a little armed robbery tonight? Chris blinked a few times and pinned his eyes back to Rory.

  “Yeah, but, as much as I enjoyed my work, the end result always bothered me,” Rory shared. “Think about it. The Spanish basically pillaged the lands in Colombia to pay for their wars in Europe. All those artifacts they took three hundred years ago didn’t belong to them, and the items I found over the years certainly didn’t belong to me just because I found them.”

  “I like you,” Harper said abruptly. “A lot.” She grinned and leaned toward Chris. “Don’t lose her,” she whispered.

  I don’t plan on it.

  “Rory McAdams,” a deep voice rumbled from behind. The voice probably belonged to Andrew Cutter.

  Rory turned toward the man now standing before them wearing an expensive-looking tux. He reminded Chris of the dashing version of Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven. A thief. And maybe Cutter was, too. His green eyes gleamed as he took in the sight of Rory, but there was something dark and sinister there.

  “Hi, Andrew,” Rory said softly.

  Cutter stepped closer and pulled her in for a possessive hug, setting his chin on her shoulder, which made Chris’s skin crawl.

  Hello again, nagging feeling. There it was in the form of a polished suit and his one-hundred-million-dollar Brad Pitt smile.

  Rory met Chris’s gaze from over Cutter’s shoulder, and he’d swear he caught an apology in her eyes.

  When Rory was able to disentangle herself from Cutter’s clutches, he kept a tight hold of her hands, leaned back, and made no attempt to hide the sleazy way he was devouring the sight of her, his focus lingering on her breasts. “Stunning. A vision. All the gold in the world couldn’t compare to your beauty.” Cutter’s fake smile broadened.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Hi, I’m Chris Hunter.” Chris had at least four inches on the guy, so he made an obvious show of bending down when he offered his hand. Was that an asshole move? Yeah. But even though Rory was every bit her own woman, he felt the need to protect her like a shield from whatever slimy bullshit the man was preparing to toss her way.

  “Are you friends with my Rory?” Cutter asked, tightening his grip on Chris’s hand.

  My? Chris swallowed the anger rolling up, on the verge of exiting by way of his tongue. He set his arm back to his side, doing his best not to coil his fingers into his palm and clench his hand. Be the better man.

  “This is Harper and Roman,” Rory quickly said, sidling close to Chris and placing a hand on his bicep, as if worried he was about to lose his cool. It was also a statement to Cutter. She was with Chris.

  “A pleasure,” Harper said, her tone sugary sweet, the one she used when she was forcing herself to do something she didn’t like.

  “Congratulations on your latest discovery.” Roman maintained his typical even tone, but when Cutter dropped his eyes to Harper’s cleavage, Roman edged one step forward in defense mode. He was making his own statement. Roman may have been the quiet type, but he was also the type you didn’t fuck with. Tall and strong, an imposing force that a person with any sense would know to back away from because it’d be a fight you’d lose.

  But Cutter didn’t back down—not the least bit intimidated by either Chris or Roman. The guy was a world-class idiot. And he had to have been to lose Rory.

  “You work together?” Cutter’s hands slipped into his pockets, but before anyone could answer, a woman appeared behind Cutter and whispered into his ear. Cutter turned toward her after listening to whatever she’d said, then nodded. “Sorry about that.” He brought his palms out of his pockets and steepled them together, resting the tips of his fingers beneath his chin. “I have to go talk to someone. Rather urgently. But I’m so glad you’re here.” He brought a hand to Rory’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be able to resist showing up. But I had planned on finding you either way.”

  The word why seemed to hang on the tip of Rory’s tongue, but rather than ask, her mouth tightened into a line.

  “Be back soon.” Cutter’s attention moved from Chris to Harper and, lastly, to Roman.

  “That was awkward,” Rory said once Cutter was gone. “Sorry about him. He’s a bit—”

  “Of an ass?” Harper finished for her casually.

  “I guess I overlooked that while we worked together.�
�� Rory peered toward the band. “You all feel like dancing?” Her tone had switched to light and carefree as if she were trying to shove away the weight of the world.

  Roman peered toward the band. “No one is dancing.”

  “Someone has to start, right?” Rory reached for Chris’s hand, and when she set her palm inside of his, he released a sigh as his entire body relaxed.

  As she led him by the hand to the dance floor, thoughts of everything else, including his mom, Cutter, and lurking threats, were gone from his mind. When she framed her body to dance, lifted her chin to hold his eyes, and his hands settled on her hips . . . he was lost. Lost in her and the moment.

  A woman was singing with the band now, but he was unable to pull his gaze away from Rory.

  “A rendition of a Whitney Houston song,” Rory said softly. “I like it. A.J.’s mom was a huge fan of hers and would always push Ella and me to sing Whitney’s songs whenever we did karaoke nights together.”

  He could picture Rory as a cute kid. Instead of a spatula, a microphone in hand, belting out Whitney’s songs. The image of a young Rory had him swallowing down a lump of emotion.

  For the first time in his life, he could envision himself with a daughter. A girl with blonde hair. With Rory’s killer eyes and smile. Her big, compassionate heart. Rolling on green grass with Bear.

  “What are you thinking about?” Rory tipped her head to the side as she brought herself closer to him.

  “You,” he admitted. “Us.” A family. A future. One week together, and he was dreaming of a future. Was that crazy?

  “Like us having sex tonight?” she asked, her voice so low he had to read her lips over the music.

  To have a kid, you need to have sex, so . . . Shit, his thoughts were insane. But this woman made him feel all kinds of incredible, and maybe his thoughts were okay. Even justified. Normal.

  “I think we have eyes on us,” she said a moment later when he’d yet to respond. Rory wet her lips and eased even closer.

  “They’re jealous,” he rasped, “that I’m dancing with you.”

  The sexual tension between them was palpable. Chris felt as though they were surrounded by an invisible bubble keeping the rest of the world from entering their atmosphere. His thoughts were consumed by her. What it would be like to kiss every part of her for much longer than he’d done earlier. To make love to her.

  He stepped back, reached for her hand, and twirled her. She laughed as he quickly pulled her against him, her hands landing on his biceps, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

  Chris shifted his hands to caress her back while Rory skated her hands up and down his arms, fingertips biting into the crisp white fabric of his shirt every now and then.

  Her eyes said it all.

  Those naughty thoughts she’d promised him earlier were in her head, weren’t they?

  And certainly in his head, too.

  “Mind if I interrupt?”

  Chris stole a look at the man off to their right. The last thing he wanted to do was turn her over to her ex-boyfriend. The last damn thing.

  “Sorry, I’m taken,” Rory said, her tone deep and resolute, never removing her eyes from Chris.

  His pulse, his everything, was flying as they continued to dance.

  He was falling. So. Damn. Hard.

  “How long have we been dancing?” she asked a few songs later, but he’d lost all concept of time.

  “No idea,” he returned without checking his black Breitling watch, one of the only expensive things he owned aside from his Jeep.

  “I, um”—she teasingly bit into her lip—“need to go to the ladies’ room. Come with me?”

  He nodded, still holding on to her hand, but then Cutter stepped in their path just outside the ballroom and near the set of elevators. Cutter was cockblocking their kiss.

  “We need to talk.” Cutter ignored Chris and pinned Rory with a determined look. “Please.”

  Rory peered at Chris from over her shoulder, their hands still clasped. She needed to close the door on this man, and so, he nodded when he realized she was searching for his opinion. “I’ll wait here.”

  “I’d prefer to talk in private,” Cutter said, stepping in front of Chris like a challenge.

  There were two ways out of the hotel. The elevators near where Chris stood, and the stairwell off to his left.

  Like hell would he take any chances letting Rory out of his sight. Maybe Cutter wasn’t her enemy, but on the off chance a bad guy did show up, he wouldn’t let someone grab Rory and take her down the stairwell or via the elevator. He’d seen shit go wrong too many times in the past.

  “I’ll be staying here.” Chris folded his arms, remaining in the hall a few paces from the two elevators.

  “Are you kidding me?” Cutter scoffed.

  Rory released Chris’s hand and set her palm to Cutter’s back. “If you want to talk, we’ll do it on the terrace. Otherwise, I have plans.”

  Cutter’s eyes honed in on Chris, another challenge there. Good fucking luck with that. “Be seeing you.” Cutter jerked his chin, the threat clear in his words. He turned and went for Rory’s arm, but she eased out of his reach.

  Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket as he watched Rory and Cutter re-enter the ballroom. He quickly dialed Roman, not sure where he and Harper were at the moment.

  “What’s up?” Roman answered on the second ring.

  “What’s your grid?” he asked, his brain sliding into operator mode.

  “Terrace. What’s the situation?” Roman asked.

  “You have eyes on Rory and Cutter?”

  “I do now,” Roman said, his tone deep.

  “I just need eyes on them. Make sure nothing goes sideways,” Chris requested, knowing Roman would understand every possible meaning of his words. Bad guys, Cutter—they might even go hand in hand.

  “Roger,” Roman confirmed and ended the call. Chris stowed his phone and braced a hand against the striped wallpaper in the hall as he waited for what felt like hours for her to return when it was only minutes according to his watch.

  Rory sidestepped a woman with a serving tray who had exited the ballroom at the same time, and Chris ate up the remaining space to get to her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, reaching for her.

  Her confident shoulders displayed the slightest drop that most people wouldn’t notice, but he’d been trained to pick up on every detail in any given situation.

  “He just wants me back.” Her eyes widened a fraction. “Not like that. I mean, he wants me to work for him. A special project he’s struggling with, and he thinks only I can help.”

  They moved off to the side of the elevators when two couples exited, their curious eyes traveling to where Chris and Rory stood.

  “Like all the research you did to help him find the treasure in that ballroom that he took credit for?” Chris asked, not even caring if the nosy couples heard since Cutter, in his mind, was a fake. Taking credit for the work Rory had put into that discovery was all the proof he needed.

  “Good researchers who can also dive, shoot, and fight are hard to find.” She set a palm to his cheek.

  “What’d you tell him?” His nerves stretched like live wires on the verge of crossing. He hated the doubt trying to infiltrate, the seeds his mom planted long ago—he didn’t want them to take root and grow. Not with Rory. Not this time. No, this time, he wanted to let his heart guide him and not let his past stand in his way.

  “Do you really need to ask me that?” Disappointment clouded her beautiful eyes, and he hated that he’d put it there.

  “No,” he said with regret. “I’m sorry.” He peered back into the open doorway leading to the crowded ballroom. “You still need to go to the ladies’ room?” Or had Cutter blown their moment? Or did he screw it up? Shit.

  She circled her hand around the material of his tie and pulled. “If you don’t kiss me, I might not survive the night.” Her long lashes lifted to reveal a swirl of green and bro
wn finding his face.

  Hand in hand, they walked to the hall off to the left that held the service elevator.

  They were alone for the moment with only fluorescent bulbs overhead and burgundy carpet beneath their feet.

  Rory backed up against the wall and beckoned him closer. “You sure?” he asked, his tone a bit rough. She reached for his tie, pulling him closer, so he’d take that as a yes.

  He dipped in.

  Touched her lips softly with his.

  Applied a little pressure, wanting slow and sweet.

  But when she reached around and squeezed his ass, slow and sweet was shot to hell. He pulled back to take a deep breath, and the saucy look in her eyes while she licked her full lips amped up his arousal. My God, you’re perfect. And delicious. And sexy.

  With a growl, he took her mouth harder. Rory moaned and rocked herself against his cock, clearly not worried about anyone catching them, and that turned him on even more.

  He lifted his hands from the wall to hold her face—to cradle her cheeks in his palms as he eased his tongue to part her lips.

  He wasn’t sure if a person could replace bad memories with good ones. And he doubted anything would erase the horror and tragedy he’d seen in his life, but this woman was comfort and love, and everything good in this world all rolled into one.

  And he couldn’t get enough of her.

  Their tongues dueled in perfect harmony. No fight for control. Just a kiss founded in insatiable want and need.

  He skimmed one hand down the length of her body before curving around her hip and to her ass as he reciprocated her squeeze with one of his own.

  His shaft pushed and pressed, and she rolled her hips in response.

  This woman.

  Fuck.

  When Chris palmed her ass with both hands, Rory lifted one leg to wrap herself around him, but the sound of material ripping made her freeze and drop her leg back to the floor.

  “I forgot for a second where we were.” She peeked at the rip in her dress. The slit now traveled nearly all the way to her panties.