Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  He retracted his hand and stepped back, absorbing the sight of her. “I’d give anything to have the entire night with you, but I can’t be greedy, I suppose.” He flung his tie to the floor and slowly began working at the buttons of his starched black shirt.

  Her thumb went between her teeth as she hungrily eyed his flexing muscles as he removed the fabric. His abdominal muscles seemed to tighten as he unbuckled his black belt, and his heated stare had her lungs filling with air. She released her breath once he was fully naked.

  He was hard as a rock as he stepped around his clothes and scooped her into his arms. He gave her a quick kiss on their way to the bedroom.

  She kept her arms slung around his neck, feeling safe there, feeling like she belonged to him.

  A pinch of sadness tried to brush inside of her, light strokes at first, before a harder knot curled tight in her stomach. Not from guilt this time—but from the sudden fear that she could lose him someday, even if they only remained friends. She could lose him the way she’d lost Brad.

  When he set her on the bed, he sank to his knees before her, his fingers skating up the insides of her legs and to her panties. She braced herself against his shoulders as he removed the last bit of clothing she wore, tossing the thong—and with the panties went her thoughts.

  She needed to survive tonight and make sure no one died on her watch, and so, she’d have to worry about her feelings tomorrow.

  Right now, all she needed to worry about was how he made her feel in the moment—complete.

  “Keep on the heels.” He planted sucking kisses to the inside of her thighs before his mouth found her center, and it had her falling back onto the bed. He grabbed hold of her legs and pulled her closer to him.

  “Owen,” she whisper-cried his name as her back arched off the bed.

  “Come for me,” he demanded.

  Her core clenched. “It’s . . . too . . . soon.” Her breathing became ragged as she fought the compulsion to give in to him.

  “I’m going to get you off again. Don’t worry.” His words were like vibrations against her skin, and his facial hair teased her sensitive area. “Come for me, Sam.”

  Her body tensed, and she moaned and grunted as her fingertips clawed at the comforter.

  Owen’s lips lazily dragged north to her belly button.

  She lifted onto her elbows, noticing a satisfied smile on his face once he was on the bed with her.

  “Thirty seconds,” she mumbled, dropping her head back onto the bed. “You got me off way too fast. Not fair.”

  He held his body above her. “And I also got you nice and wet for me, so it’ll feel better for you while I’m inside of you for the next hour.”

  Her stomach banded tight at his words. “An hour?”

  He winked and slowly lowered as if he were doing a push-up, his lips hovering above hers. “The last time was angry sex. This time, I want it to be . . .”

  He let his words hang in the air for her to decipher.

  “Do you still hate me?” She lifted her chest a little, so her nipples touched his muscled body.

  His brow furrowed, an expression of intensity sweeping across his face. “I could never really hate you.”

  She brought her legs into the air, locking them around his hips, connecting her heels at the ankles to hold on tight. “Good, because I sure as hell don’t hate you,” she whispered, and he plunged deep inside of her, making her forget what was about to go down tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Let me help you. I watched my mom do this for my dad many times growing up.” She smiled and knotted Owen’s tie.

  He captured her wrist before she finished and held her eyes. He couldn’t help but catch the fact she was wearing her powerhouse work perfume, which was fitting, because he sure as hell hoped they’d kick ass tonight.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he found himself saying.

  Her lips parted in surprise.

  He released his hold of her slim wrist so she could finish with his tie. “The protection,” he clarified. “I forgot to strap something on, and I never forget things like that.”

  “Always prepared,” she said with a smile. “So am I, though. Birth control.” She stepped back, eying his tie to assess her handiwork.

  He released a hard breath. “Okay. Good.” He wasn’t ready to be a father. First, he needed to make sure she got through the night without so much as a scratch.

  “We got caught up in the moment. It’s okay.” She smoothed her hands down the sides of the velvet dress. “Just so you know, I’m really not a sex addict.” She swallowed, fighting her nerves. “Apparently, though, around you, I just can’t get sex off my brain.”

  You sure that’s all it is? He left the thought to himself, though, and edged closer, his brows pulling together. “Just with me, huh?”

  “Must be your devilish good looks and insanely ripped body that have my hormones taking control of my brain.”

  He stroked his beard, but the air changed between them. Maybe it was because they both realized they were five minutes away from the start of the op. “You ready?”

  “Hope so.” She turned as if to hide her nerves, and it had him taking a hard breath, wishing they could return to their casual banter.

  “You can back out. It’s not too late.”

  “No way,” she said quickly but bowed her head.

  He spied the rosary beads tattooed at the base of her neck, and an idea brushed across his mind.

  He strode past her to his black duffel bag and crouched to zip it open.

  “Forget something?”

  “Almost.” He stood and faced her with a small box in hand. “Not a ring. Don’t worry,” he half-joked to ease some of the tension, then felt like kicking himself in the ass for the comment because Brad had died a few weeks after proposing to her.

  The guilt that had beckoned him after they’d first had sex didn’t creep up on him tonight, though. He wasn’t sure why, or what that meant, but he’d take it because he couldn’t afford to lose his focus on the mission, not with Sam’s life on the line.

  “What is it?” She bit her lip, curiosity in her eyes.

  He crossed the room to meet her again and opened the jewelry box.

  She reached inside and lifted it out. “A Celtic cross.” Her lips teased into a slight grin. “My grandfather was Irish.”

  “With a name like McCarthy, I kind of figured.” His stomach tensed at the sight of the chain in her palm. “My dad moved from Dublin to the States when he was fifteen after his dad died. His mom had family in the U.S., and she came here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and found his eyes. “Was this his?”

  “Before he gave it to Jason, yeah.” The lump in his throat didn’t want to go down. “Jason was the oldest, and since he joined the military before me, he got it.” He turned and set the box on the TV stand and then tucked his hands in his pockets, trying to stand as casually as possible, given what he was about to tell her.

  “And now you have it . . .” She cupped her mouth with her free hand, and he could already see the tears brimming in her eyes, which wasn’t what he wanted to happen.

  “Yeah, but Jason gave it to me.” His words had her eyes darting to his, surprise there. He tried to smile, to shrug away the emotions before he bared his feelings to her.

  But he couldn’t get his lips to curve.

  “Jason had an idea,” he said while blinking back to the past, to his brother’s words spoken so long ago.

  “What was it?” She closed her hand around the necklace, holding it tight as if to channel the strength to hear what he was about to say.

  “After I got out of the Naval Academy, he grabbed my alumni ring and told me if I wanted it back, I’d have to get it from him myself when I finished my first deployment.” His stomach muscles tightened. “So, I made him give me something.”

  “His necklace,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “And then we decided we would hang onto
the stuff until we were both retired. We had plans to run Dad’s bar together when we hit our forties. I’d give him the necklace back then.” He swiped a hand down his jaw.

  “What happened to your ring?” She opened her palm, offering him the necklace, but he shook his head.

  “I never got it back. I think Teteruk took it off him because I know Jason always carried it with him as a good luck charm.”

  She blew out a breath, a tear rolling down her cheek.

  “I want you to wear that necklace tonight. It’s kept me safe for a long time. I’ve never gone on an op without it.”

  “No,” she rushed out. “You need it.” Her hand trembled as she extended her arm to try and get him to take back the necklace.

  “I need you safe, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re wearing it.” He gave a stiff nod. “You can give it back to me when this is all over.”

  “Owen.”

  He held a hand between them. “Please, do this for me?”

  She took a long breath, as if considering his words, and then she turned around. “Help me put it on?”

  He ignored the slight shaking of his hand as he connected the clasp, noticing the spread of goose bumps over her skin.

  When she faced him again, she took him by surprise by slinging her arms around his neck and hugging him. He held her cheek to his chest, his heartbeat probably loud in her ear. “Everything ends tonight,” he said under his breath.

  Teteruk wouldn’t be leaving alive.

  The way Sam’s father had looked at her in the limo tonight told Owen one thing: he knew Sam was aware of the truth about Brad, even if she hadn’t said anything.

  Senator McCarthy didn’t offer up an excuse or an explanation, not with Owen, Luke, and the others inside the limo, but he could see the apology in his eyes. He knew what regret looked like.

  Once inside the function hall, Owen’s gaze darted to Sam’s fingertips as they dug into the material of her dress at her sides. He’d give anything to reach down and hold her hand, to comfort her, but they were in a room of a hundred fifty people, and he had no idea how many were enemies of the United States. Plus, his cover was as her bodyguard, so they couldn’t be seen hand-holding.

  “You really pulled this off.”

  Sam sipped her champagne and glanced at Viktor Gromov, the CEO of the Sven Group, who’d stepped up next to her. Two sharp lines cut through his forehead, and he scratched at the side of his dark hair. “You had doubts?”

  “No, of course not,” he said, his voice blending with the Russian words drifting around them. “And who might your friend be?” The man’s brows slanted as he extended his hand.

  “Bodyguard.” Owen shook his head, still not sure if the guy was in league with the Kozaks.

  “You do not feel safe here?” Gromov directed his question to Sam and then snatched a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter carried it by. “Kidding. I have ten men to protect me. We both know not everyone is a big fan of Russia and the U.S. throwing this—how do you say?—shin-dig together?”

  Sam smiled, maintaining her cool like a damn champ, and Owen couldn’t be prouder—even if everything in his chest hurt at the idea of her being here and in danger.

  They’d been inside for just twenty minutes, and it felt like twenty minutes too long.

  Owen surveyed the room. His heart took a quick climb into his throat at the sight of Laszlo near the stage at the front of the room. He did his best not to make eye contact, but it was hard not to stare at the man at the center of Sam’s nightmare.

  Owen wanted revenge, too, but Laszlo had taken things to another level. “Be right back,” he said and moved out of earshot of Gromov. He cupped his jaw, so it didn’t look like he was talking to himself. “Eyes on the king.”

  Jess’s voice popped into his ear. “Still no signs of the prince?”

  “Negative. You?” He peered around the room, searching for Alexander Kozak.

  The security guard confirmed Alexander had entered the building ten minutes before Owen and Sam arrived, but it made him nervous as hell they didn’t have eyes on him, especially since surveillance cameras had already been looped to hide the team’s movement throughout the building.

  “Third and second floors are secure. But they have to be here,” Jess noted. “We have forty-three minutes before the weapon releases the gas into the air ducts. Bravo Three is in the wings, waiting for the go-ahead to dismantle. We’ll give our guys twenty more minutes to find our people, but if not . . .” Jess let her words trail off because Owen knew what she was saying.

  They’d have to start phase two of the op, regardless of whether they recovered their missing men.

  “Copy that.”

  “I’m looking into a few things on my end while I’m out here, though. Something just feels off now that we’re here.”

  “You care to explain?” Owen looked back at Sam, and her eyes connected with his, her fingers smoothing through her hair as she faked a smile at something Gromov had said. He could already tell the difference between her real smile and the pretend one she used with the outside world, the one that hid her pain.

  “Can’t yet. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Owen returned to Sam’s side but kept scanning the room, trying to locate Alexander Kozak.

  “You’re the real brains behind all of this, aren’t you?” Gromov asked Sam. “Your dad is the face, and you’re the smarts.”

  Owen glanced at Sam. A soft blush touched her cheeks as she finished her drink and set the glass on one of the nearby tabletops. “I’ll never tell.” She lifted her shoulders and winked at Gromov.

  “Why Ukraine, though?” Gromov rubbed the whiskers of his beard, his eyes narrowing on her. “What makes you so interested in peace there?” He opened his palms. “You never did tell me.”

  She smiled. “You never asked.”

  “We have them.” Jess’s sudden words in his ear were like a shotgun to the chest—so damn powerful his heart nearly exploded.

  He took in a sharp breath, and his eyes widened in Sam’s direction.

  Sam reached for Gromov’s shoulder and pointed toward a group of Russian dignitaries not too far away. “Well . . .”

  “What’s going on?” Owen asked Jess once Sam redirected Gromov’s focus away.

  “They’re okay. Alive,” Jess said. “Can’t say the same for the guys guarding them, though. Gregoff Voyesky is dead, too.”

  Relief slammed into him. “What about—”

  “He wasn’t with them, but we’re switching to phase two now.”

  Teteruk. Where are you?

  “Still no eyes on the prince.”

  “We’ll find him. Going dark now,” Jess announced.

  “Copy that.”

  Jess would be jamming every frequency and killing all cell service within a twenty-mile radius in case the Kozaks had a remote detonator and decided to set off the weapon early while Asher was in the middle of disarming it.

  Owen went over to Sam and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, ignoring Gromov’s eyes in the process. “Phase two.”

  “I have good news,” Sam said a beat later, as planned.

  Gromov arched a brow. “And?”

  “It’s a surprise.” She pointed to the screen slowly lowering from the ceiling where the stage was positioned at the opposite end of the large room. “President Rydell has decided to support our efforts, and he recorded a message he’d like to share tonight.”

  Owen stared at Gromov, trying to get a read on him. Was the guy in Laszlo’s pocket or not? Then he noticed Laszlo out of the corner of his eye. He was talking to a tall blonde, and from the way he was smiling and touching her arm, he was flirting.

  “Now this is something I look forward to hearing. I’ll gather everyone’s attention.” Gromov gave a light nod to Sam, as if saying, nice work.

  When he left their side, Sam quickly faced Owen. “Are they okay?”

  “Our people are alive,” he said.

  She breathed a sigh o
f relief. “Thank God.” She glanced to the stage, where President Rydell’s frozen face now filled the screen. “It looks like Jessica managed to access their servers to upload the video.”

  “We’ll be going radio silent the second the video begins.” He wrapped a hand around her elbow at the sight of Gromov pulling Laszlo away from the blonde. “I think he just informed Laszlo of the president’s message.”

  She followed his gaze. “Where’s his son, though?”

  He peered around the room again. “We didn’t get eyes on him from the security feeds before we had to loop them.” He gently squeezed her arm, his quiet way of telling her everything would be okay.

  His people were safe.

  Asher was disarming the weapon.

  And now all they had to do was admit the truth to the world . . . and take out the Kozaks without any innocents getting hurt.

  A few seconds later, Gromov made his way to the stage, and the room quieted down. “We are thrilled to have President Jones here with us tonight, but we were just informed that the current president of the United States would like to share some news with you all.”

  “Here goes,” Sam said under her breath.

  “Did you know about this?” It was Samantha’s father in his stiff three-piece suit, his eyes sharp on his daughter.

  “Um, yeah.” She looked over at him and to the two guards flanking his sides.

  Before Sam could say more, the video began.

  The president made his introductions and discussed his support for better Ukrainian–Russian relations before his voice grew somber, and the prominent wrinkle in his brow creased even more.

  “What I am about to tell you is not easy,” the president began, clasping his hands on his desk in the Oval. They couldn’t live-stream the video since Jess had to jam all incoming and outgoing signals, so POTUS had to record the tape ahead of time.

  Owen kept his hold on Sam, not able to let her go, as he waited for POTUS to announce the truth to the world. It was Owen’s idea, and if it failed . . .

  “Ten years ago, a Ukrainian militant, acting on his own and without government knowledge, kidnapped a Russian scientist, Tatyana Kozak.”