Operation Heartbeat (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #1)

TWO

In the two minutes they’d been walking, the rain had settled in for the day and came down in heavy plops that left wet polka dots all over her blouse. She already felt her hair starting to frizz.

He walked too fast to keep up with him easily, and she found herself jogging alongside him. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll be given that information on a need-to-know basis.”

“I need to know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Could he be any ruder? But what did she expect from a man named after a Roman emperor?

“Can you at least tell me how we are getting there?”

He waved a hand toward a golf cart with a roof that belonged to the grounds crew of the university. When they reached it, he took up the entire vinyl seat.

“We can’t just take this.”

He gave her a level look. “Get in.”

With no other choice, she slid onto the hard bench. He wrapped long fingers around the wheel and they shot forward, zooming across the lawn to a part of the campus she didn’t spend much time on.

When she spotted the helicopter sitting in the middle of the grass like a giant bug about to take flight, reality smacked her.

This was the real deal.

Con stopped the cart a short distance from the chopper. “Give me your bag.”

She looked down at the brown leather bag she had tucked between her feet and passed it to him. When he took it, he stopped, a frown between his brown eyebrows. “What do you have in here? Books?”

She stared at him. “Of course not. Who needs books?”

He let out a groan. “So you brought books. Fine. C’mon.” He extended a long leg to the ground and climbed out of the golf cart. He waited for her to catch up before taking off at a fast clip to the waiting aircraft.

Sophie gulped. If she had any doubts that this was really happening, the sleek black helicopter waiting for them with its blades spinning shocked her into reality.

He ushered her forward, head ducked. She followed his example and climbed into the helicopter.

He dropped the bag at her feet and handed her a set of earmuffs to protect her hearing, then showed her how to strap into the seat.

“Just a short flight and we’ll be there. Okay?” His dark eyes lingered on her face for a beat, but she didn’t have time to analyze why the man had such amazing lashes for a guy because they immediately lifted off.

Sophie gripped the seat so hard that her fingers started to ache. She quivered with tension, and her rain-damp clothes didn’t help the shivers.

Clenching her teeth, she breathed slowly through her nose in an effort to get control of her body. She wasn’t afraid of flying, but she’d never been in such a small craft.

She’d also never been asked to work with the government on a level like this seemed to be. Part of her shivers might actually be from excitement.

The hum of the helicopter blades sliced through the air as the sleek chopper zipped through the sky. The blue of twilight mixed with a deep purple on the horizon they seemed to be heading right toward.

At her side, Con swallowed up most of the cramped interior. Since it was so loud, they didn’t speak, and he didn’t say a word to the pilot either.

He wasn’t exaggerating about the short flight. When they began to descend, whipping over a few big houses, she had to question where this military base could be located. They were still in Jersey, by the looks of it. She recognized the mansions and estates as some of the prominent ones only a certain type of wealth could buy.

When the chopper hovered over a big orange circle drawn on the lawn, she held her breath.

Here? They were landing on the lawn?

The pilot set the aircraft down as light as a feather.

Con unfastened his seatbelt and removed his hearing protection. Sophie did the same and looped her arm through the handle of her bag. Without a single word to her, he tugged the bag from her, opened the door and jumped to the ground.

As she moved to follow, he gripped her hand. The rough, strong fingers wrapped around hers for only a blink before she was safely on solid ground. He strode away with her bag, leaving her no choice but to rush after him.

Each step she took toward the front of the house had her blinking to see if this was a mirage. She had to be hallucinating the luxury home. Even in the falling darkness, she picked out a majestic driveway lined with trees that were all pruned into the exact same size and shape.

The exterior had a Colonial flair, with two gables linking the pale gray brick expanses in between. Off to one side was a section that resembled half a castle tower, complete with crenelated top and fitted with three big bay windows, indicating there were three stories.

At the door, Con glanced back, catching her expression.

Sophie waved a hand. “The government uses this as a base for a black ops team?”

In answer, he opened the door.

“Oh.” She scanned the interior that boasted grand windows and moldings. But the place was completely empty.

“My office is this way.”

She didn’t get time to geek out over the architecture or interior design of the home, but she hoped she would have a chance later.

She followed Con. His heavy boots thumped on the marble floors. Her own rubber-soled boots that were good for hoofing it across campus made no sound as she tailed behind.

He pushed open a door and set her bag on the floor inside the room.

Okay, there was furniture here at least. But it was the cold, hard, metal, government-issue variety. A spartan desk was centered in the space with a closed laptop on the surface and two metal chairs on the opposite side.

She looked around at the high dark wood bookcases built into two walls. Tipping her head to eye the shelves she was already coveting for her own home, she issued a low whistle. “This place must hold a thousand books.”

Con shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

She spied his desk chair. “Ooh. This is a really nice chair.”

The black leather had thick padding. She ran her fingers over the arm. “Adjustable arms? And tilt and recline features?” She touched the back.

Con stared at her as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her questions.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s top secret. ”

Amusement creased his eyes for a moment, but vanished just as fast. “I bought the chair. It’s for gamers.”

“Do you game?”

“No. But if I’m spending time at my desk, I wanted something besides hard metal.”

She straightened from inspecting the lever that raised and lowered the chair and shot him a look. “When do I get to see the cryptogram?”

He nodded toward his chair. “Sit down.”

“Here?”

He offered her a flat look that warned her just how grumpy this man could be even as the expression made her lips twitch. She bit down on her bottom lip to hold back a smile.

When she sank to the plush depths of the chair, the scent of rich leather enveloped her. Con leaned over her, and she drank in another scent.

The notes were fresh and masculine, carrying a note of pine. Her mind shot to images of pine shavings and a lit flame, a curl of smoke as the tinder caught.

He flipped open the laptop and put his fingers to the keys. A minute later, he twisted the computer to face her.

She blinked at what she was seeing.

The cryptogram.

Her heart responded with a skittering beat as she stared at what would just be a jumble of letters to anyone else.

“It’s handwritten.”

He turned his head to pierce her in his gaze. “It is?”

Eyes glued to the screen, she nodded. “Many cryptograms are written by hand. See here, how the letters are neat but vary just a little bit?” She pointed at the screen.

“Yes.”

“This character presents more of a puzzle.”

“How so?” His voice had an edge that reminded her that he wasn’t one of her Princeton colleagues. What he did for a living was very, very different. It was harsh. Hardened. Con was honed into steel by battle.

She glanced down at his hand planted on the desk next to hers. Tendons and veins snaked over the back. His long fingers sported a dusting of crisp hair as masculine as the owner. And a jagged, white scar ran along the outer edge of his hand up to his wrist.

Darting her attention back to the cryptogram, she continued to explain. “The minute differences in the letters can have different meanings.”

“Explain.”

Excitement flurried in her belly as she went down the rabbit hole of the topic she loved. “The cross on this A starts in the middle. Here, it starts low and angles up to the right. See the difference?”

“So that could be an A and the other stands for something else?”

She bobbed her head. “It could be a different letter, a word, a phrase…anything!”

“So where do I get the cipher?”

She drew her lip between her teeth. “Can you open the file where you found this?” She looked up at his face to find his stare riveted to her mouth.

A small bubble of awareness ran through her body and was gone just as quickly when he yanked the laptop toward himself. With a few more taps on the keys, he pulled up a file folder that contained only one item—the cryptogram.

“The answer’s not in this file. I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t keep the solution and the puzzle in the same place.”

“But you can figure it out?” He shifted. Each move of his muscles released more of that piney scent to her senses.

She met Con’s expectant stare. “We need to know more about this guy. It will help me figure out how to go about unlocking the puzzle.”

His dark eyes glinted like obsidian, hard and flinty. “We need to get him in for questioning.”

* * * * *

Con pushed off the desk. “I have to make a call. You stay here and see what you can figure out about the cryptogram.”

Sophie was already so absorbed in staring at the screen that she didn’t even flutter an eyelash at his departure. When he walked out of his office, he automatically listened for sounds in other parts of the house. With twenty-three bedrooms spread across several wings, his teammates could be anywhere.

He caught the rumble of voices coming from the kitchen, then heard the sizzle of something hitting a hot pan.

When they weren’t on a mission, they all took turns cooking dinner. He racked his brain to recall whose turn it was. Maybe Henner—aka Chickie. He hoped it wasn’t Mason. The man’s skills on the battlefield were impeccable, but when it came to wielding a spatula, he could use some work.

Con stepped into an empty room that hadn’t been claimed for any special purpose yet and closed the door. He placed a brief call to Commander Barrett.

Soon he learned that the person who was detained at JFK airport had to be released according to the law—but he didn’t have his phone. Con was still in possession of it.

They discussed getting the person of suspicion back in the country, even as Con knew how impossible it would be. Outside of US jurisdiction, the man was untouchable. Still, they had to try.

When his commander’s assistant answered the call, Con stifled a groan, already knowing Barrett was out of the office and he wouldn’t be getting the answers he needed now.

“Commander Barrett isn’t available at the moment,” came the reply.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Requesting a call back from him.”

“I’ll make a note.”

As he ended the call, he pushed a sigh through his nostrils. When he inhaled again, he smelled spicy tacos. He hoped the professor liked tacos, but he didn’t see her eating anything that messy.

Sophie was refined and serious in the way scholars tended to be. But several times now he’d spotted excited, childlike wonder in her eyes, like when she looked at the tall bookcases in the study he’d claimed as his office.

When he walked into the hall, the clink of someone moving around in the kitchen reached him. A loud clatter of a pan hitting the floor made him cringe.

Mason.

Whether or not the food would be edible was anyone’s guess. Last time his brother-in-arms cooked, the chicken was raw in the middle.

Con returned to his office to find Sophie standing at the tall window, looking out at the dark landscape of the expansive grounds surrounding the base.

At his entrance, she turned from the window to look at him. “I’m surprised I didn’t have to be blindfolded for you to bring me here.”

“You didn’t have to be blindfolded because it was almost dark. I didn’t think you’d be able to find the base again.”

Amusement lit her eyes. When he first saw her, he noticed how deep and dark they were. His were equally as dark, a throwback from some Spaniard in his bloodline. But his were dark and hard, while Sophie’s were as warm and inviting as hot chocolate.

What the hell? Why was he thinking about her eyes? Or comparing them to sweet drinks he didn’t even like?

She moved to lean against the desk, resting her backside on the side and gripping the edge. Until now, he’d hardly noticed her body. Her position accentuated the way her trousers hugged across her hips but flowed down her legs to the sensible brown boots she wore. Her chest was also pushed outward, allowing him to trace the curve of her full breasts with his eyes.

Realizing he was staring at her breasts, he whipped his gaze up to her throat. But that little frilly bit of lace around her neck only made him wonder what she wore next to her skin.

Luckily, her question broke his focus on her body. “How do we get the guy who had this cryptogram in his cloud back for questioning?”

“I have a call in to my commander, but that’s out of my hands for the time being. We know he’s on a flight to Turkey. You should prepare. We’ll likely be flying to Turkey very soon.”

She tucked the dainty point of her chin to her chest in a jerk of surprise. “This was a mistake. I can’t go to Turkey. Dean McCall didn’t grant me that much time off.”

“He gave you the time you need to do the job.”

“But I don’t have my passport.”

“You don’t need a passport. You’re with me.”

Silence fogged the air, a thick wall that he was having trouble navigating and she didn’t seem to know how to scale.

“You have that kind of pull.” It wasn’t a question.

He gave her a single nod in answer.

Through the door he’d left open a crack came a shout. “Come and get it!”

Sophie pushed off the desk and straightened to her full height. She wasn’t tall, but she wasn’t petite either. If he stepped up to her, he could easily tuck her head beneath his chin.

“What does that mean? Come and get what?” Concern sounded as a breathless puff in her tone.

His lips quirked at one corner. “Food. Are you hungry?”

“Uh…yes?”

He felt his smile hit his eyes. “You don’t know?”

“I can eat. Lead the way.”

He took her through the base, down three different hallways to reach the big, airy kitchen. When they entered, he was surprised to see Henner at the stove rather than Mason. He must be off his game to drop a pan.

She stopped in the doorway, staring at all the accoutrements a chef’s kitchen could want. “Tell me again how the military acquired such a building?”

Con grunted. But her question made Henner turn from the enormous granite-topped island where he was setting out the food. He took one look at Sophie and a grin broke over his face.

He came forward wearing an apron that said: I make pig butts and I cannot lie.

Sophie eyed the apron and a quick smile twisted her lips. “Hello. Nice apron.”

“I didn’t know there was female blood in the house.”

“I’m Sophie.” She extended a hand with all the confidence of a woman used to working with men.

“AJ. They call me Chickie.” He enveloped her hand with his own, swallowing her small fingers. For a long moment, he didn’t release her.

A rumble gathered in Con’s chest. He leveled a look at AJ, who wasn’t paying any attention to him.

Con cleared his throat to cut the moment. “I heard you drop something.”

Henner released Sophie’s hand and waved at the food. “Just a pan.”

“I thought Mason was on kitchen duty tonight.”

Henner tossed a wink at Sophie. “Just butter-fingered it.”

She smiled back at him. “Are those tacos I see?”

“Yup. I make the best. Momma’s recipe.”

Con snorted. “You’re so full of shit. You were raised by your grandparents.”

“Okay, then Grandma’s recipe.” He grabbed a paper plate and held it out to Sophie. “Ladies first.”

Just then, two more guys from Charlie team sauntered in. They both stopped dead when they saw Sophie.

Mason and Steele sized up the atmosphere in a blink.

Mason moved toward the island. “Did I hear you shit-talking me, brother?” He aimed the question at Con.

“Not you—just your cooking. Guys, this is Sophie Edwards. She’s helping with something.” He pointed at each man. “Sophie, Mason and Steele.”

“Nice to meet you both.” She gaped at the men. “Are all of you this big?”

All three of his teammates laughed at her question.

The rumble of irritation in Con’s throat tried to surface as a growl. He bit it off and reached a long arm across the island to snatch up the big spoon Henner had set out to serve the taco meat.

“Here.” He thrust it at Sophie.

Mason crossed the kitchen to rifle through the refrigerator for drinks, while Steele went right to the radio in the corner of the kitchen and cranked up the volume. An older song from a decade before blasted through the space.

“Oh Christ.” Con couldn’t contain his groan. The guys used mealtimes as a way to unwind, but that usually escalated fast. The professor shouldn’t be subjected to this.

True to form, Steele crossed the kitchen, doing his best bump-and-grind dance everyone else was used to seeing and ignored. But Sophie burst out laughing.

Whether the feminine sound brought more men to the kitchen or the smell of food did, Con couldn’t guess, but suddenly, the whole team was there, introducing themselves to Sophie and pulling out chairs for her to sit down.

She carried her plate to the long table and accepted a seat from Steele, who’d danced his way over. “Thank you. What did I walk into?”

He rolled his hips and chest in opposite directions. “You have to love the beat of this song.”

“Isn’t this a cover from another band?”

Steele stopped dancing and looked at Con, brows raised high. “Not many people know that.”

“No. They don’t.” Con wasn’t much of a music buff, but he’d spent enough time with these guys that some trivia had stuck. He stalked over to grab a plate and filled six hard taco shells with fixings. When he returned to the table, two of his men had taken positions on each side of Sophie and were chatting her up like they were at a bar on Friday night.

He set his plate down at the head of the table but remained standing. “This is a working dinner. We have things to discuss.”

Everyone silenced and gave him their full attention. Sophie sat with her hands in her lap, those dark eyes sucking it all in.

“You’ve all met Ms. Edwards.” He waved a hand toward her.

Several guys nodded in response.

“Today a man was detained at JFK airport by security before boarding a flight bound for Turkey. He was on a watch list. During his visit, he was caught on camera. It appears he took photos of the Federal Building, which has received a recent bomb threat.” He swept a glance over the group.

When he stated these facts, he was looking at Sophie. Her lips compressed into a line. Con could almost see the weight of what they were asking her to do settle over her. Until now, he hadn’t given her the entire story. She didn’t know why deciphering that cryptogram was imperative.

“They just let the guy go?” Henner asked from a few places down the table.

“They didn’t have any physical evidence of the photos until it was too late and he was onboard that plane. But more than photos were hidden in a cloud—there’s a cryptogram.”

Henner set his taco on the plate. “What the fuck?”

“Hey—language! There’s a lady present,” Mason cut in.

“It’s fine,” Sophie hurried to assure them.

“What’s the cryptogram say?”

She cleared her throat. “I haven’t figured it out yet. A little more information on the man’s background can make a big difference. For instance, the person who created the puzzle could speak either Turkish or Kurdish. It will help if I know how his mind works before I dig in.”

“Good thing we’re right on the coast—” one of the guys started to say.

Con issued a low growl of warning, and his brother-in-arms snapped his mouth shut as he realized his error.

Sophie picked up her taco. “You don’t need to worry about me giving away your location. I already know we’re in New Jersey. It’s not like I spend a lot of time in this area, but I’ve seen neighborhoods that are similar on TV, and more than a few professors have homes here.”

Con’s head snapped toward her. “How do you know we’re in Jersey?”

She gave him an ingratiating smile. Like he was some kind of idiot trying to pull one over on somebody with smarts like hers.

“Come on. The flight was too short to go anywhere else. Plus the multimillion-dollar house gave it away.” She took a bite of her taco and chewed, eyes lighting up as she tasted the spicy food.

“Maybe I should have blindfolded you.” He sank to his seat and dragged his own plate closer.

Some of the guys chuckled. The other Blackout team did blindfold every person without clearances when they brought them to their base in Washington, DC. Con had heard more than one amusing tale about how people reacted to that requirement. But since they’d just relocated to this base a couple months before, no outsiders had visited. Sophie was the first.

She flashed a smile at Con’s grumble. “Oh, blindfolding me wouldn’t have helped either.”

“So what’s next, Con?” Henner picked up his bottled water and took a big gulp.

“I have a call in to Barrett, but I’m not hopeful that we’ll get the guy back for questioning. I think we’ll need to go to him.”

Sophie stared at him, her expression serious and solemn as she again processed this bit of information she hadn’t been a fan of the first time he told her.

“You’ll need fake IDs.” Henner set down his water and brought a taco to his mouth. Lettuce fell out onto his plate.

Con shifted his focus to Sophie. He could practically see the professor’s mind working over this new revelation.

What few people in the world knew was that being on SEAL Team Blackout meant giving up their identities. When they joined the team, they were given blackout papers including a death certificate and a list of instructions including to never use their real names again. To the outside world, they were dead. They only used their names with each other.

He hadn’t shared his name with the dean…but he had given it to Sophie.

He’d slipped with her. He’d have to watch himself from now on.