Hazard (SEAL Team Tier 1, #5)

Chapter 1

1

“What a pretty little piece of fluff,” Cooper “Skull” Sullivan said through Archer “Hazard” Booth’s earpiece. He and Skull were currently in the financial city of Milan, hunting Enzo Russo, the money man for the ‘Ndrangheta, an Italian Mafia-type association whose primary activity was drug running, but they also dabbled in arms trafficking, money laundering, racketeering, extortion, and loan sharking. It was powerful enough to influence local and national politics and infiltrate sectors of the legal economy in Italy, with their yearly haul estimated at fifty-four billion.

They were currently tracking Isabella Lombardi, a model who had caught Enzo’s eye when he’d been shopping with his gorgeous wife. She was his newly minted mistress. The guy was a glutton, and he and the team hoped he was too besotted to stay away from his latest conquest. From his vantage point in the vehicle, they were using to trail after the “little piece of fluff,” he had to agree with Skull. The woman had it all from the navy and white peep-toe spectator heels to the stylish white Panama hat on her head, her hair all but tucked beneath with silken blonde strands drifting down the nape of her neck. The tight navy-blue dress sheathed a sweet body, every curve a deadly hazard, the hem hitting her at a slender, toned cream-colored thigh that socked him hard where it hurt.

She bent over the jewelry counter in Dior, giving the clerk a generous view of her small but prominent breasts—all the cleavage the clerk could ever want. He wondered what kind of bra she was wearing that cupped her so well, and was it as white as the piping of her dress, or as dark as the navy? Nevertheless, women called that a push-up bra, right?

He’d learned something from watching Sex and the City , and he smirked, realizing it was all about lacy, sexy underwear. He wasn’t going to apologize for being a red-blooded American male. He’d also learned that women knew how to use their wiles, but he didn’t need Carrie and the girls to teach him that one. When encountering women on the battlefield, special operators double-tapped them first. He’d even seen women, devious and cunning when encountered outside the wire and sometimes deadly, using their children to deliver bombs to unsuspecting American soldiers. Even in Milan’s pretty streets and elegant society, Hazard and Skull were very much outside the wire.

“Get ready. She’s on the move,” Skull said, following her to the next section full of women’s handbags. Stalking their quarry, Skull entered the store, his gaze riveted to her.

“Is there a back exit to this place?” Hazard murmured.

“I think so. She’s looking like she’s made me, but that’s not possible.” Skull sounded strangely skeptical. He’d rarely heard his brother sound anything but confident. “Her charms are all about getting what she can out of a man, and pegging security types shouldn’t be on her radar.”

The last thing Hazard could handle, under any circumstances, was to get mired in a woman’s …ah… charms .

Leigh Waterford popped into his head. She was much more endowed than Enzo’s pretty model, but that prickly woman was definitely lacking in the charm department. In fact, she probably didn’t know how to spell charm.

But Hazard didn’t mix combat with romance. It was, as far as he was concerned, a recipe for disaster, even in the face of four teammates finding their true loves on the battlefield. His boss, Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow had romanced and married their previous CIA handler, Rose Sinema, and now they were expecting their first child. Subsequently, Senior Chief Petty Officer Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael had gone through a little bit of hell wooing his bride, former CIA Shadowguard Luna “Karasu” Shimora who was now working as the head of security for the White House. Then Petty Officer Remington “GQ” Nash, the other half of the Goldilocks Twins, succumbed to brilliant National Security Agency computer genius Celeste Potter. And, finally, after a harrowing race to find Rose, Karasu, and Celeste after their kidnappings by the notorious terrorist organization No Safe Haven, Petty Officer Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta had, against all odds, found Kaiya Pawar, an investigator in the Australian Federal Police’s Counter Terrorism and Special Investigations Unit—CTSI. She had been instrumental in tracking down and foiling NSH’s plans for terror against US citizens in Sydney, Australia.

NSH was finally dismantled, but the team had been just as busy. Their participation in a raid in collaboration with the Italian branch of Interpol, and the cooperation of the four branches of their police force to take down ‘Ndrangheta’s arms trafficking of seriously powerful US weapons led to their surveillance of this particular “little piece of fluff.” They hoped she would lead them directly to Enzo, who was wanted for questioning regarding his employment by the elusive Angel Alzate. It seemed Enzo and the Alzate Cartel were in cahoots, and the financier was taking care of the cartel’s funds.

Isabella set down a purse she was looking over and walked over to one of the dark-suited men standing near the doorway into the purse section. She gestured him down to her petite five-seven height and whispered something into his ear. Immediately, the man stiffened and turned to look at Hazard.

“The shit has hit the fan,” he growled into his earpiece. “She’s making a move, and she’s made us. Don’t lose her. I’m about to be detained.”

“Sir, don’t move.”

Hazard stood loosely, working hard not to give in to his impatience to take out this guy and follow his buddy. He was his backup. Not that Skull couldn’t hold his own against a petite blonde or some upscale money man.

“Hold on,” Hazard said, reaching for the badge Interpol had given him to get him out of just this kind of a sticky situation. “Gun,” the man yelled, and several men converged on him, taking him down to the ground. Hazard allowed them to handle this situation to keep eyes on this op to a minimum, but he chaffed at the time it was taking to keep this mission as classified as possible. They did indeed find his firearm, tucked into a holster underneath the sports jacket he wore.

“Stand him up,” the main security guy said, and he was unceremoniously pulled to his feet. “That lady accuses you of following her and making lewd advances. We will be calling the police to?—”

“Don’t bother. I have a badge in my front inside pocket.”

He nodded to one of the men who kept his hold on Hazard with one hand and dipped inside to remove the badge. The man’s face went sour, a frown forming as he realized he’d been duped by a pretty face and killer body. He flipped it open and sighed, turning to the main security guy and showing him.

“Our apologies,” he said. When they let him go, Hazard wasted no time in running for the back door where Isabella had disappeared. It exited to an alley, and he heard a scuffle coming from his right. He ran in that direction. As he turned the corner, he saw a slim dark-haired woman slam something against the back of Skull’s head. She was dressed in black leather from knee-high boots, slim mini-skirt, to the short biker’s jacket. She looked like a dominatrix.

But it was the blonde who stunned him. That “little piece of fluff” had Skull down on his stomach with the heel of that pretty spectator pump in the middle of his back. At first his mind went blank. Skull had been bested by the petite model and a tall dominatrix. What the actual fuck?

The blonde turned to look directly at Hazard, giving him a complete once over, all that vacuous innocence and light that had been on her pretty face replaced by something he’d seen plenty of times before. The hard expression of an operator…a pro. Then she raised one appreciative eyebrow, her sweet mouth curving into a self-satisfied smirk.

Hazard noted Enzo was near a dumpster, cowering in his flashy black slacks and once pristine white sports coat, red silk shirt, his noticeably thin, dark hair hanging in a braid over his shoulder with his three bodyguards around him and down for the count. What the hell was he doing here? What a fuckup. No guts, no glory, but plenty of time and money on his hands, most of it spent trying to carve a niche for himself in a pack of world-class wolves and jackals.

And he’d just met a couple of alpha she-wolves.

Without a word, the blonde bent down and whispered something to Skull, then she straightened, motioned to the woman, and they grabbed Enzo, rushing down to the end of the alley. The blonde put Carrie Bradshaw to shame—kicking a Navy SEAL’s ass and sprinting like a runner off the line—all in heels. They disappeared around the corner.

Hazard was already running toward Skull. “Buddy, you okay?”

“Don’t let them get away!” Skull hissed, obviously in pain, clutching the back of his bloody head.

Hazard, against his better judgment, left him and raced to the end of the alley. He looked left and right, people milled around, traffic whizzed by, but they were nowhere to be seen. Those bitches had their HVT and there was nothing Hazard could do about it.

Goddamn it! What a fucking goat fuck!

“Havoc, we’ve lost the HVT. Repeat. HVT is gone, taken by unknown female tangos.”

He hated losing in anything, and he especially hated being outwitted by some woman posing as a model, but what hit him hardest was that he could have lost Skull, and complete mission failure would have absolutely paled by comparison.

He was going to track those bitches down, and there would be complete retribution coming their way.

“Return to base,” was the response. “There’s been a development.”

He returned to Skull and helped him up. He must have had his clock thoroughly cleaned to still be sitting down. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against the back of Skull’s head. Skull moaned, sending his hand through his disheveled, temple-cut black hair, brushing it off his forehead impatiently, groaning again.

Hazard lifted his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“You want to play the finger game? How many am I holding up?” Skull flashed him his middle finger.

“Fair enough,” Hazard scoffed as he hauled him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

Skull sent him one of his dark warlock looks from a set of deadly black eyes.

“Your Master-of-Darkness look isn’t going to deter me.”

Skull regained his footing easily, pushing Hazard’s hands away, but he couldn’t ignore his shirt collar stained with blood. It had to hurt.

He started for the end of the alley but didn’t make it, his legs folding a little, and he put his hand on the wall. “Christ, what did she hit me with?”

“The woman who hit you looked like she dabbled in whips and chains,” Hazard said. “No surprise it was a blackjack.”

Hazard immediately wrapped his arm around Skull’s waist and urged him along. “I should have brought Bones with me. They would be the ones nursing wounds right about now.”

“Yeah, Bones would have torn them apart,” Hazard said of their K-9 fur missile. Anyone who touched Skull would be on the dog’s shitlist, and Bones remembered everyone on that list.

Skull was ready to chew glass and like it. Anything was better than this humiliating feeling. He’d been duped by a petite “little piece of fluff” as he’d called her, but she was anything but. He’d caught up to her meeting with Enzo and his bodyguards in the alley—had this been their meeting place? There was a hotel right across the street. He should know, he did the recon.

Skull had grabbed her arm, and she had looked so frightened and vulnerable, he’d stupidly dropped his guard. That’s when she’d struck, and the leather-clad woman had attacked Enzo’s bodyguards out of nowhere. She had two of them down before he could react, and he had honed reflexes. But his fluff was keeping him too busy to intervene. He swung at her, but she ducked, then moved so fast, he was caught off guard, brute force completely ineffective. She struck him under the armpit, sending him curling over and dropping his guard, then her fists flew into the soft skin beneath his ear, his solar plexus, and finally to his groin, which he managed to partially block, but he was completely exposed and off balance. She grabbed the back of his head and drove her knee into his face, momentarily stunning him and driving him to the ground.

When he’d tried to rise, he’d been struck on the back of the head, making him see even more stars and stunning him again.

That’s all he could remember until Hazard had asked him if he was okay. He had a bitter taste in his mouth at the loss of Enzo. Now he and Hazard had to face the music back at base, a government building that was being refurbished, housing their Tactical Operations Center or TOC, their sleeping quarters, including Bones’s crate and their briefing and interrogation rooms. All those spots she’d hit were throbbing, especially his armpit and under his ear. His head was pounding.

When Hazard dumped him into the passenger seat, he gasped, an inhalation of infinite, pained complexity. How could such a tiny woman cause so much agony with her fists? Rage filled him for a moment, something his cool, calm exterior never saw, and he wouldn’t give himself away now. He’d trained in hand-to-hand combat for years , but her attack was…strangely graceful and subtle, balanced, agile, using her speed to counter her stronger opponent. Clever little fluff.

The next time he saw her, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot to kill.

When they entered the building through a conveniently covered and gated portico, Hazard parked and came around to help him. This time he allowed his teammate to assist him. It was clear the way he kept glancing over at Skull that he was concerned. Luckily, she missed his junk, or he would have been walking funny.

As it was, he was sure to have bruises where her fists had landed.

Skull pushed away when they got to the briefing room, preferring to walk on his own. They entered and the soft murmur stopped. Anna Graham, their CIA handler, was at the front of the room. Her gaze washed over them, and she sighed. Hazard took a seat and Skull followed suit.

“Um…” Anna cleared her throat. “There’s been a mistake made and it affected your mission. You see…”

Her voice drifted off as his brain went fuzzy, and he clenched his eyes closed, dropping his head. When he opened them, the sight of a pair of navy-blue peep-toe heels clacked against the tiles of the floor as those feet slipped by his vision.

His head came up sharply, the pain exploding in agony at the abrupt movement, and he roared, “What the hell is going on here?”

Anna looked at him sheepishly, and the guys all stared. It was clear he’d missed something.

The blonde from the alley way stood next to Anna, along with her leather-clad counterpart, but he could barely spare her a glance. His ire was focused on Isabella or whatever her real name was.

The woman who had bested him in the alley, the one whose presence told him more about her than he’d gleaned from her performance, and everything it told him set every nerve ending he had on full redline alert. His gaze narrowed, zeroing in on the woman and cataloging every square inch of her lush female form, every brass button parading down the front of her short, cropped jacket, every perfectly tailored fold and sweep of the navy-blue dress so lovingly molded to her body, every inch of blindingly white piping accenting the suit, right up to the hard blue eyes and the elegantly broad-brimmed white Panama hat.

“I must have hit you a little too hard, tall-dark-and-murderous. But, you see, we were assigned the same target by mistake.”

Her countenance was burned into his brain, and the anger he couldn’t seem to control was in every line of his rigid body. But that didn’t stop him from going under at the sight of the delicate angle of her jaw, the soft, slightly plump lips that begged to be kissed, those smooth, sharp cheekbones, elegant nose, and thickly lashed and artfully made-up eyes, almond shaped, sultry and so blue, they rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

He couldn’t seem to counter how she affected his heart.

It didn’t matter that the first time he saw her, she’d lit him up like a match to flame. It had been pure, unadulterated lust, and that made his humiliation at her hands all the worse. But he couldn’t contain his anger any more than he could contain his attraction. He thought she was the enemy, and he had been wrong. He wished he wasn’t. Out of all the women in the world, he’d had to get himself just a little bit fixated on one who was not only not on the wrong side of this mission, but who was just as capable as he was of completing it and—his face flamed in embarrassment—who had effectively completed it.

He swayed, adding to his embarrassment as his knees folded. Chairs scraped as someone caught him and he was taken out of the room, moved quickly down the hall to a place that smelled medicinal.

He opened his eyes, his senses realigning to find Kodiak, looking at him with concern. He flicked a light in and out of his eyes. “Sounds like you got coldcocked but good, brother.”

“If you ask me how many fingers, I’m going to coldcock you.”

“It’s only a coldcock if he doesn’t see it coming,” a soft voice said from the doorframe. Skull’s mouth tightened as his nemesis walked into the room. “I’ve got this,” she said to Kodiak. At his skeptical and rebellious look, she smiled. “Relax. I’m a fully trained medic. Girl Scout promise.”

He opened his mouth, but Skull growled. “Let her take care of her handy work, Jay.”

She gave Kodiak a tilt of her pretty head and raised her brows. “I promise not to bruise him again.”

Kodiak scoffed and rose, stalking out of the room.

The woman looked back at him. “Are all you guys so touchy?”

The dark-haired woman hovered at the door. “Sorry about the head. We had no idea you were the good guys.”

He looked at her and said, “Fuck off.”

“Hummingbird,” she said, looking at the blonde.

“Hummingbird, my ass,” he growled.

“It’s okay, Koz. I’ve got this.”

The woman shrugged. “You’re tough. I’ll give you that. I usually knock a guy out with that blow.”

Hummingbird’s lips curved. “Maybe he has a hard head.”

It was apparent that she had a sense of humor, but right now, right this minute he couldn’t seem to dredge up one drop of humor. Didn’t mean he wasn’t affected by the drop-dead-gorgeous blonde shrink-wrapped in that damn sailor suit.

“See you around, Severus,” Koz said with a smirk.

“Haha,” Skull responded, his voice as dry as bone. The whole thing just continued to piss him off to think he had read the blonde so wrong…twice. She had put her ass on the line to secure the HVT just as he had. It rankled that she had been better at it.

But what a fine ass.

“I think your attitude is nothing but sour grapes…what is your name, sailor?”

“Skull.”

“Ooh, that’s nice. It goes with your powerful and enigmatic dark looks. Don’t you have a name, or did you just materialize out of the black nether to taunt and tease us mere mortals?” Against his will, his lips twitched. She didn’t miss it. She walked around to the back of him and before he could say anything, her hands were on his head much gentler than the last time she’d touched him. “Koz can be so brutal,” she murmured with a wince in her voice.

He heard the pop of a medical kit, and she was back again. He sat still. “This is going to sting a bit. A little topical since you need a few stitches.” She wasn’t kidding as he gritted his teeth against the pain, but a small groan escaped him. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice losing that sarcastic edge, and the sound of her regret made him wish he’d let Kodiak take care of him.

She waited a few seconds, and he felt the tug and pull of needle and thread. When she was done, she gently pressed a butterfly bandage to the cut.

Then she headed for the door, with a little wiggle to smooth out her dress. That slight shake rushed through him from his heart to his bruised groin. He knew better. “Cooper Sullivan,” he gritted out.

She turned, surprise on that stunning face. “Wow, a hero’s name if I ever heard one,” she responded. “Hummingbird. CIA Shadowguard. We’ll be working together. It should be interesting, Cooper ‘Skull’ Sullivan.” Her eyes went over him in a slow slide. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s a good thing we’re on the same side. You could be very distracting.” She shook her head.

“Wait. You didn’t tell me your name.”

“I didn’t, did I? My bad.” There was that damn smirk again. He was annoyed that she’d duped him…again, but in such a small way he almost… almost felt petty. “See you around…Skully.”

Iceman walked in. “You okay?”

“Other than a bruised ego. I’m great.”

“Someone’s ass will be in the fire for that goat screw. It could have gone wrong out there.”

Skull realized that the blow to the head could have fractured his skull and put him down permanently. He was thankful it hadn’t. “It didn’t, boss. I’m fine.”

The femme fatales had cleverly outplayed and outmaneuvered them fair and square. He was just relieved that they had the HVT.

He scoffed at her play on the normal Sullivan nickname of Sully, but she cleverly mixed them together. Damn the woman. He didn’t want to like her, admire her, or forgive her for besting him. He got up and reached for painkillers. He needed them and had a feeling he was going to have one hell of a headache, along with a monumental pain in his ass all through this mission.