FIFTEEN
H enner wasn’t a man who planned dates.
His life was structure. Missions, worst-case scenarios and contingency plans. Romance didn’t fit into any of those skill sets.
For May, he wanted to get tonight right. He had one chance to wine and dine this woman. She was the only one he could picture himself going to these lengths for.
So he’d made a reservation. A damn good one. Most cities had a fine Italian restaurant, and this one didn’t disappoint. The prices on the menu he skimmed on their website were high enough to prove they had a good reputation, otherwise they wouldn’t stay in business.
The seats in the photos were plush black leather, the décor the stuff that most women ate up. When they talked to their friends about a romantic dinner, they talked about places like the one Henner made reservations at.
May deserved the best evening. After being dragged around the country, forced to eat in rest stops and anything they could grab on the go, he wanted to treat her to a special meal…one she wouldn’t forget.
Tonight, there were no threats, no ops or stakeouts on docks—just him and her. It would be a night they could indulge in with the same passion they threw themselves into for pleasuring each other between the sheets.
Desire stirred inside him, rousing his cock so it pressed against the fly of the pants he’d worn to Simpson’s dinner. When he studied his reflection, regret that he didn’t have a suit to wear for May filled him.
When they arrived at the restaurant, the sun was setting on the horizon, a band of light glimmering against the backdrop of dark blue sky. For a moment, he didn’t want to get out. If they didn’t begin the evening, it couldn’t end.
He gripped the wheel lightly, contemplating the emotions racing through him. He already admitted to himself that he was falling for May…and the way she looked at him, with that burning in her eyes, made him wonder if she felt the same.
“AJ?”
Her voice broke into his thoughts, catapulting him back to reality.
He threw her a crooked tilt of his lips. “Ready for the best meal of your life?”
The enthusiastic smile she gave him and the bob of her head was exactly why he’d gone to these lengths to take her out.
“Let’s go.” He climbed out and circled the car to take her hand and guide her out. Before they took a single step toward the building, he brushed his fingers over her waist. “You look gorgeous tonight. Tonight and always.”
Her eyes melted into dark pools of emotion and desire. Chest rising on a deep inhalation, she smiled up into his eyes. “You too, AJ.”
He could offer her his arm, but that felt too formal and not at all like them. Clasping her hand, he led her to a door set into the stone wall.
As he gripped the handle, May made a soft snorting sound.
“Uh, AJ? That’s the employee entrance.”
To test it, he tugged. The door was locked. The kind that led to the kitchen or offices.
Easy in. Nobody was around to witness a spectacle, and he knew how to blow doors with very little noise.
“I could get us in.”
She issued a throaty laugh and tugged on his arm. “You’re going to use the main entrance like a civilized human being.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
When they rounded the building and located what was very obviously the main entrance, complete with a grand, arched door and a black awning to shield the guests from the elements, Henner waved a hand. “My way would have been more fun.”
Determined to act the gentlemen tonight, he held the door for May. As she entered the restaurant in front of him, the warm amber lights of an impressive chandelier gleamed on the smooth strands of May’s hair.
Once inside, he reverted to what he knew. Playing the gentleman wasn’t second nature. Being a protector was.
He studied the restaurant in one quick sweep, mentally marking the exits and analyzing potential threats.
They waited to be seated, and he took a minute to drink in her appearance. She’d dressed for him, and he fucking knew it. Even though she was wearing a dress she picked up at the department store, and had already worn to dinner with the major general, somehow she made it look sophisticated tonight. Maybe it was the way she’d slicked her hair back and pinned the sides behind each ear, or the dainty necklace teasing her collarbones.
He hovered over her. “That dress is testing my patience.”
“What, this old thing?” She waved in a mock gesture of blowing off his compliment.
He couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face if he tried. It seemed permanently fixed there.
When she turned that knowing, heated look on him, he felt it—the tight pull in his chest that told him he wasn’t imagining things.
For May…Jesus, he was a goner.
The host returned from checking to see if their table was ready, luckily putting a halt to any mushy, lovey-dovey words Henner might have blurted out.
Their table was nestled against the far wall. As he pulled out the chair for May, she slipped into it. The host promised them their server would be with them soon and left them alone.
Henner settled across from May.
“Back to the wall,” she commented.
“Yup.” Candlelight flickered between them, casting a golden glow over her skin. The restaurant hummed with quiet conversation, along with the light clink of glasses and cutlery. The place also smelled heavenly, of homemade marinara sauce, basil, oregano and garlic.
May looked around. “This is really nice, AJ.”
“Does that mean I’ll score when we get back to our room?”
She giggled. “That depends. But yes, you did well choosing the restaurant. And I love Italian food.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Well…it’s just that you don’t get a lot of practice with taking women out to dinner.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I just figured your idea of dinner was a twenty-ounce steak.”
“Hey, you’re not wrong.”
“Or another pub.”
“You were the one who suggested we go to Ireland to visit one of the real Irish pubs.”
Her eyes warmed, trust melting into something else that he wanted to spend all night studying.
The server interrupted with suggestions for their meal tonight. By the time he finished describing the delicious specials, Henner’s stomach was clawing with hunger and his mouth watered for more than his lover seated across from him.
They selected everything the server mentioned, and he promised to send the sommelier around to their table to select a wine that would pair well with their dishes.
Henner’s gaze traveled over May’s beautiful face. Inside his chest, his heart was performing tricks he never knew it was capable of. He didn’t get moments like this—didn’t allow himself to have them.
With May…it was all too easy to slip into romance.
He reached for her hand, clasping her soft fingers and smoothing his thumb in a slow glide back and forth over her knuckles.
Their conversation flowed with an ease that carried them through the first course of bruschetta and olives, which May stole off his plate and popped in her mouth before he could stop her.
Through her laughter, she told him a story about a trip to Italy in her college years, where she and a friend had argued with an old native of the city about which pasta dish was superior.
They sipped their delicious wine, and he watched her eyes light up whenever she talked about things she loved. He shared a few stories too, though he had to be selective about what he told her.
The sommelier strolled by with a few more bottles of wine. On the way past their table, he paused. “Everything agreeable?”
“Yes, wonderful.” May beamed a smile on Henner that caused his heart rate to pick up. How quickly could they get through their main course before—
“Oh my god!” Her voice pitched into an urgent murmur.
His brow shot up. “What is it?”
“Over there. Simpson!”
Despite the pleasant tingle of wine, his stomach went cold.
He started to turn his head that direction.
“Don’t look!”
Freezing in place, he brought his wine up to his lips but didn’t sip. “You’re sure it’s Simpson?”
“Yes.” She ducked her head, pretending to adjust the napkin in her lap. As if she could hide. She was the most noticeable—and beautiful—woman in the room.
“Is he alone?”
“No.” She fiddled with something under the table and a moment later slid her phone across the tablecloth to Henner.
He picked it up and studied the photo. Simpson wasn’t in uniform.
“Do you recognize the people he’s with?”
“No.”
The sommelier moved to Simpson’s table next and made a big production of presenting what appeared to be a very expensive bottle.
“Hand me my phone. I need to do something.”
He slid it across the table to her again, and she drew it close, tapping away on the screen.
In a nonchalant move, Henner wiped his mouth with the napkin, twisting his head enough to catch the major general in his peripheral vision. The man was beaming at his companions and talking animatedly to the sommelier, who popped the cork of the pricey bottle for their table to share.
May let out a gasp. “You’re not gonna believe this,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
He looked to her and took the phone once more.
The minute he saw the photo on file in a facial recognition program, he froze. “Forward that to Con.”
She answered with an imperceptible nod.
Their main dish couldn’t have arrived at a worse time, but at least they had something to pretend to be doing while they tried to ID the people Simpson was dining with.
May picked up her fork and twirled it in her pasta. He bit off the corner of a slice of homemade bread slathered in melted butter and fresh garlic but chewed so hastily that he barely tasted it.
At that moment, his phone vibrated. May’s eyes widened. “Don’t leave me to take the call!”
“Never.” He brought the phone to his ear and spoke in murmurs meant only for the speaker on the other end, who turned out to be Cobra.
“Con’s deep in some discussion with Commander Barrett again. Since you’re gone, I’m his acting secretary.”
“Did you see the photo I sent?”
“Yup. Ran it through a different software program to double-check, but the man is an art dealer, and the woman is his wife.”
“Anything more you can tell us?”
“They’re not dirty, if that’s what you’re asking. At least not on the surface. They have a legit art dealership with no public ties to anything notable.”
“Copy. Send anything else you find.”
“Will do. And Chickie?”
“Yeah?”
“Enjoy your romantic dinner, lover boy.”
* * * * *
“How the hell did he know that?” AJ muttered as he lowered the phone from his ear.
May eyed him. “Anything on the couple?” Her voice was so low that the murmur blended into the noise of their surroundings.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted the sommelier headed their way.
“Didn’t he just ask if we were enjoying our wine? What can he possibly want now?”
AJ didn’t get time to respond before the slender man with graying hair and a painstakingly tailored suit approached them again. In his hands was another bottle of wine wrapped in a towel.
When he edged up to the table, AJ held up a hand to stop him from whatever he was about to do. “Thank you, but I think we’re just about finished for the evening.”
His brow shot up. “The bottle is on the house. It’s one of our very best bottles. Surely, you’ll want to taste something of this quality and vintage.” He held out the bottle so May could read the label.
May knew enough about wine to know that was a very expensive bottle.
AJ started to speak again, but May smiled at the sommelier. “I’d love to try some, thank you.”
She felt AJ’s stare on her but until they were alone again, she couldn’t share her belief about where that wine truly came from—Simpson.
He must have noticed them too.
After the sommelier poured her a fresh glass, she swirled the deep red liquid for a moment, watching how the candlelight glinted on the glass and highlighted the rich color of the grapes it was made with.
She didn’t have to taste it to know that this was one hell of a bottle. One that came with an obscene price tag.
She took a sip and savored the full body of the wine on her palate. Then she looked directly at Simpson’s table. The man raised his glass to her in toast, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.
The urge to slam her glass down on the table blazed through her along with a thick warmth of the alcohol working into her system. This night was supposed to be about her and AJ. Just dinner. Just romance.
And it had turned into a mission.
AJ didn’t notice her battle to keep her expression off her face. The sommelier poured him a glass as well, which he accepted, voicing his appreciation.
With a small dip of his head in acceptance, the sommelier left the bottle for them and moved away.
When he was out of earshot, AJ set the glass on the table. “That’s gotta be a six-hundred-dollar bottle.”
“Try two grand.”
“I didn’t realize you know wine.”
“I’m no expert, but my uncles dabble, and have cellars in their homes. This comes with a massive price tag.”
“And it’s not on the house.” Without turning his head, he cut his eyes toward Simpson.
“Yup,” she breathed, bringing the glass to her nose again. She didn’t care if the wine was gold—it felt like blood money. The fact that Simpson could drop that kind of cash on a gift like this told her there was a lot more they weren’t seeing.
Yet.
That the major general had also inserted himself into their evening didn’t sit right with May. And if she knew AJ’s habits by now, the way he drummed his fingers on the table in a quiet staccato screamed that he was on edge too.
Simpson didn’t look their way again, but the damage was done. Any romantic looks or the banter lovers shared vanished. He pretended to sip, but she saw him lower the glass without taking a swallow. He didn’t just want to remain clear-headed—he needed to.
She picked up her fork again and picked through her pasta dish, selecting a vegetable here, some herbed shrimp there, but all the food was tasteless in her mouth.
If she was suspicious of Simpson and his big bank account before, now every alarm blared in her mind, pealing louder and louder as the night wound down.
“Do you think he’s buying art? Or selling it?” she asked AJ without looking up from her plate.
Ever the soldier, AJ had worked his way through his main dish and was now focused on the bread basket. Every now and then, he darted a look over at Simpson, but the man had returned to enjoying his good food, wine and his company as if he hadn’t just dropped what was, for most people, a half a month’s wages on a gift.
AJ paused with a piece of crusty, homemade bread in hand. “Why he’s wining and dining his art dealer is the bigger question in my mind.”
She nodded.
In an exaggerated show, May reached for the bottle. Before she could wrap her fingers around it, AJ’s fingers brushed hers. Holding her stare, he tipped the bottle, pretending to pour more into her already untouched glass.
She jumped.
“Relax, darlin’.”
She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, expanding her chest until her ribs complained. The Navy SEALs’ way of lowering their heart rate into a more normal rhythm and lessening panic in tough situations.
She was no SEAL, but she could do this.
Curling her fingers around the stem of the glass, she looked into her partner’s eyes. Though their evening had been tainted by Simpson’s intrusion, she was still happy to be here with AJ.
“If I have to pretend to drink a fantastic bottle of wine while staking out the man who gifted it to us, I’m glad I get to do it with you.” She brought the glass to her lips.
He gave her a smile filled with genuine affection. “I feel the same, May.”
Their exchange lightened the mood, and they took up where they’d left off, flirting and exchanging teasing banter. Giving each other knowing looks that suggested their night would continue once they got back to the hotel and doing their best to show the world they were totally caught up in each other.
Which wasn’t far from the truth, despite the shadow that lingered over them.
By the time Simpson stood to leave, May had mastered herself again.
When Simpson passed their table, AJ made his move. “Major General. Hell of an eye for wine selection you’ve got.” He tapped the side of the nearly full bottle.
Simpson beamed, the redness in his cheeks and the slightly blurry look in his eyes a tell of how much wine he drank tonight.
AJ stuck out his hand to shake Simpson’s. May forced a smile onto her face, but it felt too brittle, a farce she wasn’t certain she could pull off.
“Please allow us to pick up the tab for the wine,” AJ offered.
Simpson waved a hand. “Consider it a small gift, a token of my affection for May and her family.”
“Thank you, Shaw.” She pushed to her feet to lean in and embrace the man. A week ago, this was much, much easier. Now the move felt not only like the worst lie she could tell but like treason to her country and all she held sacred.
When she drew away from Simpson and slipped into her seat again, AJ was beaming at her. Good job, the expression in his eyes said.
She let the air she’d been holding trapped in her lungs slip out and smiled in return.
“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” Simpson said.
Just sticking around to get your bomb!
“We’re just being tourists. You know…never stop being a newlywed.” She infused a flirty note into her tone and aimed another look at AJ.
Right on cue, he reached across the table and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. A shiver raised inside her at his touch, along with a little sinking sensation of dread that Simpson might see right through them.
She leaned into his touch as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Then she snapped back to reality. Simpson was still standing there, taking this all in.
“I hope your dinner was just as fantastic as ours was,” she said to him. “Your companions seemed to be enjoying themselves. Do I know them?”
“My companions? No.” His tone sharpened a bit. “They’re art dealers. We like getting together once in a while to discuss the market.”
“That seems right up your alley.” She met Simpson’s penetrating expression with her own. Hoping she was pulling this off, and if not, that AJ would jump in and help her out.
He remained silent, watching the interaction. He picked up his wine glass and took a real sip.
“You know, May, I’ve been thinking about the training session you did,” Simpson said.
“Oh?” Surprise was a genuine ripple through her system.
Simpson nodded. “The soldiers learned a lot more than they would from watching a demonstration. Your idea to use fake equipment in a hands-on way was really what we needed.”
Her blush was real too. “Thank you, Shaw. That means a lot to me.”
“I’ve been thinking about a higher-level training. For a group of high-ranking officers.”
She straightened in her seat. This was it. A way onto that base again. Access to the hangar containing the bomb.
“What a fantastic idea. I already have ideas for what to share with a group like that.” She slid her eyes to AJ’s. His face gave nothing away.
She couldn’t be overly enthusiastic. She needed to remain cool, calm.
“But I’ll have to check our travel plans and see if we have enough time to make it to our next destination. We have tickets to a concert.” She smiled widely at AJ.
“Yes, the concert. May’s been looking forward to it for, what…three months?”
“Three and a half!”
They shared a chuckle, which Simpson joined in on. Was it her imagination that his laugh sounded hollow?
Was he on to them?
“We’ll check our plans, since we do have such a tight schedule for our road trip. Thank you for the offer, Shaw.”
Simpson studied them for a moment. Then he nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to interrupt your plans because of a silly old training.”
“I’ll let you know very soon. I know where to find you.”
The man appeared a bit stiffer, more distant than a moment before.
As if his plans were dashed.
With that, he said a polite goodnight and walked away.
In case he glanced back, May lifted her glass and brought it to her lips. “After that, I need to smuggle this entire bottle out.”
AJ’s brow hiked upward. “As much as I’d love to see you a little bit tipsy and uninhibited, I need you very sober when we have the talk we need to have.”
“Talk?”
“Yes. There’s no goddamn way I’m letting you go back onto that base, May.”