Chapter 7
SEVEN
Mason leaned against the counter, staring into the depths of his mug. But he didn’t see the dark brew or register the flavor.
His thoughts were still lost in Elin. Her smell, her taste. Fuck, the feel of being buried in her tight heat.
Most of all, he’d missed those glimpses into her beautiful mind.
The low hum of female voices drifted from the living room, which was their equivalent of the war room for Charlie team.
Each one of them had a role in Blackout, providing expert skills and support.
Their work wasn’t the crash of waves on the shore that everyone saw from the operatives—it was the subtle undercurrent that kept the team balanced and steady even when storms hit.
Elin’s work was different. Her code reached farther. The effects of her hacking rippled through the network like the moon pulling the sea in a quiet, inexorable tide.
Changing everything.
Changing him.
He took a sip of coffee, this time acknowledging the dark roast that flowed like water here. It still couldn’t wash the taste of his lover out of his head. It would be a long time before that faded, if ever.
The memory of spreading her thighs, of sinking between them, had him drowning for a long minute.
The thud of boots on the marble floor jerked him out of his reverie. When Dante entered the kitchen, Mason was ready for what he knew was coming.
“Briefing with Con. Now.”
He pushed off the counter and took two steps to place his mug in the sink. “Right behind you.”
Dante had already ducked out again. Mason followed in quick strides, aware of sounds coming from the rear of the mansion. He picked up on the footsteps of a newcomer. One who took tentative steps, too close together, because his head was covered by a blackout hood.
Steele and Sinner had returned with their charge, the bomb handler Elin located in Canada, brought to them for questioning.
Hearing the arrival of their guest, Con emerged from the war room, his expression a hard mask. When he passed Mason, he gave a brisk nod.
“I’ll be with you and Dante in a minute.”
Mason stepped into the war room. Dante and Sophie were already seated there, but no Elin.
He didn’t know if he was relieved he didn’t have to face her after their night of passion or disappointed not to get the chance.
He slipped into a seat. “Is this a briefing for the whole team?”
Dante shook his head. “Just us.”
“I understand you and Sophie—you’ve been working closely on the situation. But what does Con want with me?”
Dante arched a brow. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, Mason? This is about Elin.”
On the surface, Mason stilled, and the mask of a SEAL slid automatically into place. Using the skills he learned in BUD/S training, he forced his heart rate to slow, but his insides were locked and loaded for battle.
He hadn’t exactly hidden the fact that he left the war room with her after they watched the suspect get taken into custody, and he didn’t bother to hide that he never left her bedroom until dawn. But he didn’t do anything the rest of the guys didn’t do on a nightly basis.
The sharp sounds of doors opening and closing preceded Con’s footsteps as he returned. When he entered, his stare landed on Mason.
“Let’s talk.”
He sat like a rock, unmoving as three people studied him like he was under investigation.
Con opened his mouth, and Mason braced himself, but Con aimed his question at Sophie. “How do you like working with Elin?”
Sophie’s mouth softened into a smile. “She’s a great asset to Charlie. With her help, I’ve been able to work faster on the cryptograms.”
Con nodded, then turned his attention to Dante. “What do you think?”
“She’s good—real good. She hasn’t been here that long, but my guess is she’s even better than Denver.”
Mason’s chest swelled with what he could only call pride. When it came to computers and technology, Denver Malone was nothing short of a genius.
SEAL teams weren’t known for handing out undeserved praise, but clearly not even Denver’s shadow could conceal Elin’s brilliance.
Con looked to Sophie. “How does she interact with the other women?”
Sophie spread her hands on the table in a gesture of openness, much different from their meetings, when she often twined her fingers in frustration. “They haven’t all met Elin yet. They’re all busy with their own work, and she isn’t taking much time off.”
“She isn’t taking any time off.” Mason’s tone sounded a little too harsh.
“And she’s comfortable on base?” Con asked.
Sophie nodded. “Appears to be. She said she’s used to a lot of travel and working with new people all the time.” She slanted a glance at Mason. “Honestly…”
“Go on,” Mason urged.
“I think she’s lonely.”
His gut clenched. “What makes you say that?”
She straightened, fingers linking in a way that made Mason wish he could see what was going on in the woman’s head. “After I told her about the bombs and asked her to assist in locating all twelve handlers, we had time to talk. And okay, we talked over drinks.”
Dante and Con waited for her to say more, and Mason forced himself to appear disconnected from the topic.
Fact was, even after spending the night with her, he was still on the outside. When he walked out of her life, he forfeited any right to be involved, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to hurl questions at Sophie.
“Vodka, neat,” he murmured.
Sophie’s head snapped up. Her nod confirmed what he remembered of Elin’s taste in alcohol. He remembered how she loosened up after a drink or two. How much did she share about their relationship?
“I explained that it might take months to find the other eleven handlers.”
Months of having Elin around. His throat clicked when he swallowed. “How did she react?”
“She said…” Sophie gave a small grimace. “She said that was fine. That she doesn’t have any people who would miss her. It doesn’t seem like she has anyone.”
Fuck. Guilt punched through him, knocking the breath from his lungs before he even saw it coming. He knew Elin led a life of isolation, her work being insular by nature.
He knew this.
And he’d left her.
How could he ever repair the damage he’d done? No amount of pleasure in between the sheets could ever make up for hurting her—for leaving her so alone.
A footstep in the hallway made the topic of Elin grind to a halt, but the pressure in Mason’s chest never let up.
Chase filled the doorway. “Our mark is in the interrogation room.”
Con pushed to his feet immediately. “Good. Dante, Mason, you’re with me. Mask up. We can’t let this guy see us.”
They rushed to follow orders. When he passed by Sophie, she touched his arm.
He gave her a nod to indicate he wasn’t upset that she now knew those things about his relationship with Elin. He was grateful that Elin had a supportive friend, especially now.
Within minutes, he, Dante and Con donned masks over the lower part of their face along with dark glasses.
Chase opened the door for them, and they stepped into the room that was exactly like interrogation rooms all over the world.
Plain walls. A table in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side.
The man sat in one, still hooded and visibly shaking.
Con nodded to Chase, and he left, closing the door behind him.
“Take his hood off,” Con ordered Mason.
He stepped forward, nose pinching at the odor of sweat and fear clinging to the man. Any other time in his career, he thought of people like this as threats. But now he saw him now through Elin’s eyes.
He was a husband, a father, a dog owner.
Mason pulled off the hood.
The man blinked and then looked around, recoiling when he saw three big SEALs with their faces concealed.
Under the harsh overhead light, his pupils contracted and his gaze darted from one masked face to the next. He couldn’t be more than mid-forties. Sweat soaked the collar of the T-shirt he’d been wearing when the police yanked him out of bed.
His fingers twitched where they rested on the table. Maybe in surrender. Maybe with the instinct to hide his face from their stares.
“Wh-what is this?” he stammered, voice rough from his ordeal. “Where am I?”
“Safe for now,” Con said evenly. He set a bottle of water in front of their prisoner and settled in the chair across from him, posture relaxed in the kind of way that scared people more than shouting ever could. “Name.”
The man took a sip of water and swallowed. “Charles. Charles Silverton.”
In another life, the man could’ve been anyone’s neighbor—the kind who mowed the yard on Saturdays and coached soccer. The thought tightened something in Mason’s chest.
Con nodded to Mason. “Baseline questions.”
Mason remained on his feet and faced Silverton. “We’re verifying your identity, Charles. Answer straight and you get through this quicker. Name of your first pet?”
Confusion flickered over his face. “Pet? Uh—Buster. A beagle, when I was a kid.”
“Favorite teacher?”
“Mrs. Lang.” He blinked rapidly. “Tenth-grade math. Why does this—”
“Street you grew up on?”
“Fairview Drive.” His breathing picked up. “What is this? Some kind of security check?”
Mason didn’t blink, but he knew without a doubt that Elin was watching this footage from the computer lab and using all of the security questions to dig deeper into Silverton’s life.
“Mother’s maiden name?”
“Talbot,” he whispered, panic pulsing in his tone.
“First car you owned?”
“A...a 1998 Honda Civic. Blue.”
“Your high school mascot?”
“Tigers. Riverside Tigers.”
“The month and year you got married?”
“June 2004. Why do you need—”
Mason cut him off. “Ever receive encrypted files you couldn’t explain, Charles?”
The abrupt shift made Silverton flinch. “What? No, I—”
“Anonymous payments? Bitcoin transfers? Gifts that seemed too good to be true?”
“No! Nothing like that!”
“Your wife’s favorite restaurant?”
The whiplash between mundane and menacing was deliberate. “Uh...Giuseppe’s. The Italian place downtown.”
“Ever been asked to hold something for someone? Store data? Forward messages without reading them?”