Tactical Lies (Prey Security: Charlie Team #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

August 16 th

11:13 A.M.

What was she thinking?

Could she have picked a more dangerous country to move to?

Okay, so Connor Charleston knew he was slightly exaggerating. Cambodia was, in fact, a relatively safe country to visit and even live in. But there were still rumored to be a few remote pockets where remnants of the Khmer Rouge remained, renamed and revamped, but as dangerous as they had been years ago.

While he didn't have firsthand knowledge of how bad things had been in the country during that time his grandfather, who had been a Navy SEAL, had served during that era and had performed a rescue with his team of a group of aid workers who were captured.

After his dad’s Delta Force team had been ambushed and slaughtered, and his mom remarried the only survivor just months later, then both of them were arrested and “committed suicide” he and his siblings had been raised by his grandparents.

Which meant he’d heard a lot of stories about what it was like to serve in special forces over the years. First from his dad when he was younger, and then from his grandfather when he was a little older.

The most chilling of those stories was the one that took place on the very land he was currently hiking across.

A place where a lot of innocent blood had been shed.

A place where his grandfather met the woman he would wind up marrying and having three children with when he saved her from what would have been a brutal death.

Now, fifty years later, Connor felt like he was following in his footsteps.

Was he going to wind up marrying the woman he’d come to Cambodia looking for?

Almost definitely not.

He’d blown that shot over a decade ago and regretted it ever since.

It wasn't even likely that Becca Marsden’s life was in danger. There was going to be no saving her from bloodshed and being her hero like he should have been back when they were in college.

Back then, he’d flipped out and made a stupid mistake. When he should have been standing by her, supporting her in every way she needed him to, he’d run in a panic, and by the time he realized how stupid and selfish he was being, it was already too late.

There was no point in denying he’d love a second chance with the only woman he’d ever loved, but he knew holding out hope it would happen was ridiculous. Becca had every reason to hate him, and he couldn’t even fault her for it.

Becca had needed him, and he wasn't there for her.

How could he ever make that right?

Knowing that he couldn’t was the only reason it had taken him twelve years to get his head on straight and come to do what he should have found a way to do all those years ago. Instead, he’d been a coward, dropped out of college, joined the navy, made it onto a SEAL team, served, and then left to work for the world-renowned Prey Security. He’d hidden behind the shield of it would be impossible to fix things, so why even bother, for years longer than he should have, and now, as he hiked through Cambodian forests he was ashamed of himself.

Especially as he thought about how brave and strong Becca was. Everything she’d had to fight through. The struggles she would live with for the rest of her life. And all that she had accomplished.

After graduating, Becca founded an aid agency with a couple of her friends, and they had now grown to have bases in several Asian countries. They provided both medical and educational support for small, impoverished villages. She had dedicated her life to doing such an amazing thing and he was so proud of her.

Would she believe him when he told her that?

Just because Connor would love to believe that after twelve years and a lot of growing and maturing on both their parts the past could be laid to rest, he knew Becca wouldn't see things the same way. They would likely never be together in the way he wanted them to be but maybe they could at least become friends.

Hell, he’d take acquaintances who talked occasionally.

Whatever he could get.

Because it didn't matter how many years had passed, she still owned his heart.

As he approached the village where Becca lived, he fought against the urge to hold his breath, feeling like he was a kid all over again.

Wishing that he’d handled things differently, better, was pointless. The breakup of their relationship rested squarely on his shoulders, one hundred percent. He wasn't denying that, and he would tell Becca when he saw her.

But he did wish he hadn't wasted so many years getting his head on straight.

Why had it taken learning that his mom had been gang raped while on a mission for the CIA and had fallen pregnant from the assault, resulting in his baby sister, for him to realize he had to go to Becca?

It was stupid of him and only added to the shame he felt.

If his dad had been alive to see how he’d treated Becca in the aftermath of her own vicious assault he would have torn him to shreds. His dad had been a calm guy, who never raised his voice and always disciplined them fairly, taking time to ensure they actually learned something rather than just punishing them.

Connor had a feeling this would have been the exception.

When the woman his dad loved had been raped and wound up pregnant, he’d stood by her side, supported her, and raised that child as though it were his own. Because from all his memories of life before his parents’ deaths, he couldn’t remember a single time that their dad had treated Cassandra any differently from how he’d treated him and his brothers.

Yet when the woman he loved had been raped and wound up pregnant, he’d panicked and ran. The fact he’d barely been twenty at the time made no difference. If he was old enough to know he was in love with Becca and wanted to marry and spend the rest of his life with her, he was old enough to stand by her no matter what.

This was why shame was the dominant emotion inside him as he spied the small village where Becca lived and worked. Set amongst the trees, it was comprised of small huts where fifty or so families lived. There was also a clinic that Becca and her team had built and managed, and a schoolhouse where they taught the village’s children, again built and managed by Becca and her team. There were no stores, what the people couldn’t grow themselves, they bought from the nearest larger village about fifty or so miles away. There were no cars, electricity, sewage, or running water, but from what he’d learned, Becca’s team had generators brought in. People walked or rode in small carts pulled by donkeys, and small farms littered the landscape.

It was like stepping back in time.

Knowing this was the life Becca had chosen for herself, that she wasn't just good at what she did but loved it and was making a difference doing it, filled him with so much pride it nudged a little of the shame out.

A burst of childish laughter suddenly filled the air, and as he watched, a group of children rushed out of what must be the school. They were all giggling and chattering, and as he got closer, he saw a woman step out the door, watching the little ones with a smile on her face.

He froze.

Long, inky black hair hung in a braid down the woman’s back. Dressed in a white tank top that showed off her toned arms, and a simple pair of cotton pants that hung to her sneaker-covered feet, he didn't have to be close enough to see her face to know who it was.

Becca.

His Becca.

His moonlight.

Between her midnight blue eyes and her silky black locks, the pale skin of her face had always reminded him of the moon, and the nickname had popped into his head not long after they went on their first date when they were fourteen.

Now her pale skin was tanned, likely from spending most of her time outdoors, and as her head turned in his direction, he saw even from twenty-odd feet away the sudden tension in her body, the sweet smile he was used to seeing on her suddenly gone, he realized how little he knew about this woman.

This Becca. The one she’d turned into over the twelve long years since he’d broken her heart. He also realized how deeply he craved learning everything about who she was now. Connor wanted to know every single thing there was to know about her, all her secrets, all the things that made her sad, all the things that made her angry, and all the things that brought her joy.

He wanted it all.

But from the tension rolling off the woman watching him, he knew she wanted the complete opposite.

August 16 th

12:00 P.M.

Surely, she was seeing things.

Because there was no way he would be there.

Becca Marsden stared at the man standing not even twenty feet away from her and seriously pondered the possibility that she had died or was currently hallucinating.

Anything made more sense than the idea that Connor Charleston was in Cambodia.

What on earth would bring him here?

It certainly couldn’t be her.

Of that she was certain.

Even though they had grown up together, her family living right across the street from his, playing together as small children, dating through high school, together through some of college, she knew that Connor was not the kind of man you trusted to be there when you needed him.

She’d thought he was.

Right after her assault, he’d been her rock. Staying by her side in the hospital, supporting her through surgeries, giving her everything she needed.

Until things got worse.

Then he bailed.

She would never forgive him for that.

But Connor was part of her past. It had been twelve years since they’d broken up, and in that last decade and a bit, she had grown and changed a lot. She’d banded together with a group of friends and started an aid agency that provided support to thousands of vulnerable people across Asia, something she was proud of. She’d fallen in love with another man and been engaged, only to lose him to a horrible car accident.

Becca had had a whole life without Connor, and she rarely thought of him anymore.

It was too painful.

Going back was the last thing she wanted to do, dredging up old memories she had worked so hard to deal with, it was too much. Already she’d lost the boy she thought she was going to spend her life with and the man who had captured the heart she’d thought was dead and brought it back to life.

As badly as she wanted to believe it wasn't really Connor closing the distance between them, she couldn’t.

It was him.

The why didn't matter, all that did was that she wasn't going to talk to him. She knew her struggles, knew her strengths and weaknesses, knew her triggers, and Connor ticked all those boxes. He was her greatest struggle, her greatest weakness, and her greatest trigger.

Seeing him, talking to him, interacting with him in any way was too much for her.

Ducking back inside the schoolhouse, Becca did what her old therapist would have rebuked her for. Lived in denial. Connor wasn't there. Connor wasn't there for her. Connor wasn't her problem anymore. Connor was nothing to her.

It had been over for such a long time that he shouldn’t hold any power over her anymore.

But he did.

Just a single glimpse of him told her he had way too much power over her despite the fact more than a decade had passed since they last saw one another.

Still, for now, denial it was. It was easier. Better for her blood pressure, too, than screaming at him. So, she went to work tidying up the small room. The kids did a good job of helping keep it clean, they were so excited about all their school supplies that they treated them like treasures. There were still things she could organize though, and that’s what she started doing.

However, her hands faltered when she heard the unmistakable sound of boots against the floor.

Not only was Connor in Cambodia but he was here in her schoolhouse.

A space that was supposed to be a safe one for her.

While her parents and sister would love for her to return home, they understood that her work kept her sane. It helped still the storm inside her. Over the years, she had learned to calm and keep it under control, but it was always there, simmering under the surface.

There was one surefire way to send it into a rage.

And it was currently standing behind her.

Tears blurred her vision as she sorted and re-sorted the papers on her desk. They were already organized but her hands needed to do something. It was either this or she wrapped them around that man’s neck and unleashed over a decade’s worth of pain and pent-up rage on him.

Definitely better to occupy them with busy work than to strangle Connor Charleston.

The last thing she wanted was legal trouble on her hands.

Several minutes ticked by, and the tears continued to burn the backs of her eyes—angry tears not sad ones—Connor continued to stand there.

He didn't speak.

She pretended he wasn't there.

He didn't move.

She pretended he wasn't there.

Until she couldn’t.

Spinning around at warp speed wasn't good for her prosthetic foot, and she stumbled a little.

Moving faster than the speed of light, Connor was there, his hand on her arm, steadying her.

Sucking in a shocked breath, Becca froze.

It had been so long since she’d felt his touch.

It used to ground her, but now it picked her up and threw her into the wind to be tossed about.

There had been a time when she needed it so badly, when she craved it more than her next breath of air. For so long it was the only thing keeping her going, and she’d had no idea how she was supposed to survive without it.

But she’d learned.

She’d learned how to survive without Connor and the last thing she wanted was for him to be back in her life in any way, shape, or form. Whatever reason he had for being in Cambodia had nothing to do with her and he could leave her the hell alone.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, jerking backward and almost losing her footing all over again. Learning to walk with a prosthetic foot had been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do but it wasn't the hardest.

The hardest was learning to live without Connor. He was the man she had planned to spend her whole life with. He was her first love, and she’d expected them to marry, have kids, and grow old side by side.

But that wasn't what life had planned for them.

And she had learned to live without Connor.

She had been living without him just fine until he came intruding on the life she’d built.

Connor’s blue eyes widened in shock at the tone of her voice, and even though she’d stumbled again he restrained from reaching out to steady her, his fingers curling into fists at his sides, knuckles white, indicating the tension in him and the level of restraint. The man before her reminded her of the boy she used to know in some ways, but in others he’d changed so much he was barely recognizable. He was still tall, a little over six feet, but instead of the long, gangly limbs she remembered, he was pure muscle, his black T-shirt straining to cover his chiseled torso and arms. His brown hair was a little longer than the last time she’d seen him, and back then, he hadn't had a scruffy beard.

“Becca.”

Her name was all he said but it was all he needed to say. She had known this man her whole life, they’d been together as a couple from the time they were fourteen until they were twenty. They had been best friends, they’d done everything together, she knew Connor better than she knew anyone else.

Or at least she thought she had.

Turned out she hadn't known him at all. Because the man she had thought she loved wasn't one who would walk away from her when she needed him the most.

Now his voice was so full of pain, grief, guilt, and regret that it tore at the wounds his betrayal had caused. Wounds that she’d thought had scarred over, but in this moment, she realized had merely scabbed over and underneath were still raw and open. Infected and festering.

“Don’t,” she snapped. There was nothing he had to say that she wanted to hear. If he was there because of her, she wasn't interested. The past needed to stay where it belonged.

If she allowed it to creep into her future, all the hard work she’d done rebuilding herself and her life would be for nothing. In the blink of an eye, she would become that terrified and traumatized twenty-year-old girl all over again.

That couldn’t happen.

She had work to do and people relying on her, there was no way she would let them down by reverting to who she’d been in the aftermath of her assault.

“I don’t care why you're here, Connor. I don’t care why, after twelve years, you felt the need to track me down and come back to torment me some more. Leave now. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you, I just want to pretend you don’t exist.”