NINETEEN
The tactical maps and computer tablets were spread out on the coffee table again, and the Blackout team had all gathered around in preparation for the debriefing. Con didn’t take a seat. He was too keyed up after that op, and not for the right reasons.
When it came to rescuing Deniz’s wife, they had won the day. But they failed to stop that shipment from leaving port.
“Tell me what happened,” Con addressed Henner. The SEAL’s clothing and gear were dusty from when he blew the door of that compound where they initially believed Deniz’s wife to be held.
“The insertion went as planned. We reached the target building without detection and located the hostage. I assessed the entrances and chose a back door as our point of entry. I wired the door with explosives and we entered with no incident.”
“You saw no guards?”
“Not at that time. We made it to the west wing before Mason spotted an armed man.”
Con turned his attention to Mason. “You neutralized the threat?”
Mason gave a stiff nod. “A single shot fired. No more were needed. We didn’t encounter any more threats. We located the hostage and verified her name before we got her out safely. She was moved to the nearest American embassy and then medevacked to the closest hospital.”
“Has she been reunited with her husband?” Con swept his gaze over the group of guys, almost prepared to see Sophie slipping in. It was too bad she was back at the hotel. She would want to hear this part.
Henner provided more information. “We were able to make contact with Deniz and he met us en route to the hospital. The couple will be provided with security courtesy of the CIA.”
“Good. Now.” He swept his gaze over the rest of the men who’d been assigned to stop that shipment. His gaze centered on Denver. “Tell me what happened.”
Denver Malone was always cool and calm. Even when he was bleeding out and they didn’t think he’d make it, he never batted an eye at what they were doing to save his life. It was almost as though he didn’t have anything to lose, therefore there was little to get upset over.
“We arrived on the dock on schedule with three minutes to spare. Upon arrival, several armed men jumped us, and we engaged in hand-to-hand combat.” Denver swiped a finger over the cut on his jaw and came away with a small smear of blood. He cleaned it on his tactical vest.
Con eyed him. He was there on that dock and he knew how everything went down. Why did he think that asking Denver for an accounting would give him another answer for why they’d missed that shipment? He didn’t have a better vantage point than Con did.
Denver went on, “I believe they were there to stop us from detaining the barge containing the shipment.”
He pushed out a breath. “That’s my take too.” He didn’t like making mistakes, but dammit, he should have guessed that the people sending that crate weren’t going to let them reach it so easily.
By the time they finished the skirmish, and several men lay dead—men with tattoos—the ship had left port.
Denver eyed him. “Should I continue?”
Con shook his head. “I made a bad call. The captain of the barge refused to stop, and until they’re in neutral waters, the Navy can’t stop them and board the vessel or search that crate. I’ll take the heat from Barrett when I debrief with him. At least we got the intel we needed about the group with the tattoo.”
Mason shifted his weight on the hard wood chair. “You captured one of the members of the gang.”
He nodded and folded his arms across his chest.
“Con made him sing,” Denver piped in with a grin that had all the other guys sharing the victory.
“Those guys are a bunch of common street rats. Thugs someone paid to do his dirty work. But they don’t have any idea who is giving them orders—they receive emails and texts anonymously and are paid the same way via a money app. I got his phone to hand to the analysts, but that group isn’t our focus now.”
Now that they were debriefed, Con wanted nothing more than to speak to Commander Barrett and put this mission to bed. So he could go back to the hotel and take a certain beautiful professor slash cryptographer to bed.
“Get out of your gear. Grab some food.”
His order made the men disburse to various parts of the safe house. Con didn’t hesitate to find an empty room and make the call to Barrett. While he got his ass chewed for the mistake on the dock, it wasn’t nearly as harsh as he expected.
It helped that Con already had a fix for his mistake. He shared the idea with his commander to get a team together to intercept the shipment before it reached its destination. Barrett agreed that it was a good plan B and told Con that he would put extra manpower on the task.
He stripped off his gear and took a brief shower. After an op, they all rode an adrenaline high for a short time, so the guys were in rare form, cracking jokes and bantering with each other.
Con would typically join in, but he had one goal in mind right now, and that was to return to Sophie.
Her words reverberated in his mind. Just come back to me.
The tender look in her eyes was something he’d carry in his heart for the rest of his life.
What would happen if he burned the rule book created for Blackout and claimed Sophie for his own?
He found Henner in the kitchen cutting vegetables. He had his earbuds in and was bobbing his head to music. Con walked over and plucked a chunk of tomato out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. The ripe flavor burst on his tongue, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in hours.
Once he got to the hotel, he’d order room service for Sophie and him. Maybe have a picnic on the terrace and then swim as the sun set and the stars blinked in the evening sky.
Henner removed his earbud and focused on Con. “What’s up, man?”
“I’m going to the hotel. I won’t be back tonight, so I’m leaving the team in your hands.”
He eyed Con. “You’re head over heels for this woman, aren’t you?”
His chest grew tight. “What makes you think that?”
“I’ve seen the guys on Alpha. They have women in their lives—even families. Plus, Apollo was one of our own not too long ago.”
Apollo had served with Charlie. Then an op went south and he faked his own death in order to go deep undercover and find the terrorist they’d been hunting. A woman got caught in the middle and suffered just as much as Charlie team at Apollo’s loss. When he returned from the dead, he got a second chance at love.
He’d also turned to the dark side. He chose to keep serving with the Alpha team instead of Charlie, and that left a sour taste in a lot of their mouths, even as they wished him the best.
Apollo had been Con’s closest confidante. As far as he was concerned, he’d betrayed his trust.
“I’m nothing like Apollo.”
Henner eyed him, brows drawn together. “We all know you’d never abandon us, Con. I only meant that I’ve seen Apollo with Indika. They’re made for each other. And I see the same thing with you and the professor.”
At the sound of the endearment he used with Sophie, Con’s chest heated. His heart felt too full to fit behind his ribs. There could be only one reason for this sensation.
He loved her.
He couldn’t deny it anymore. Couldn’t lie to himself.
“I’m going to the hotel.”
Henner flashed a grin and then stuffed the earbud back into his ear. Con left to the sound of him singing offkey and the thump of the knife on a cutting board.
He couldn’t get to the hotel fast enough.
When he entered the room, he froze.
She’d locked the deadbolt. He’d heard her.
Heavy silence greeted him.
“Sophie?” he called.
She wasn’t seated at the table, and a glance at the terrace doors showed that she wasn’t outside either. He strode to the bedroom, expecting to hear the hiss of the shower, but it wasn’t running. She wasn’t here.
“Sophie!” He ran back to the main room, his gaze landing on the laptop still set up on the table. Slowly, drawn to the screen by the burning electric fear lashing through his body, he stared at the image on the screen.
A picture of him with the word “Target” underneath it.
“Fucking hell!” He whirled, searching for Sophie’s boots, but they weren’t by the door where she usually took them off. Her purse was gone too.
She’d seen that picture and left to find him or warn him. Where did she go?
She would never go to the dock, knowing what was about to go down.
But she might go to the safe house.
He raced out of the room and downstairs. He knew exactly where to find the security footage and burst into the small security guard’s office, barking orders at the guard sitting there.
Guilt blasted through Con like a missile strike.
She left because she was trying to save me.
In a few short sentences, Con explained what was going on. The guard scrambled to pull the footage of Sophie leaving the hotel.
As soon as her image popped onto the screen, a knot constricted Con’s throat. Sophie ran outside, purse tucked close to her body. She looked around and then took off toward a taxi, hand raised to hail it.
“What’s that taxi company? Get them on the phone now!”
The guard grabbed the phone and made a call. The man brought his gaze to Con, his face pale. He lowered the phone from his ear and swallowed hard. “The taxi company doesn’t have a car with that number.”
* * * * *
Sophie wasn’t a fan of dimly lit rooms. Or the prison-chic décor in this space. A single bulb hanging from a peeling ceiling was not her style at all. Nor was the splintered wood chair her captor plunked her on and tied her hands to.
Voices echoed from another part of the house, too faint to make out even if she could have understood the language.
She should have studied languages more. That knowledge would have come in handy. Instead of reading through Con’s file on the plane, she could have been working on a language app and learning something useful.
She glared at the door they’d left partially open, willing the driver of that car to come in here so she could find a way to kick him in the balls. Anger rolled through her like battle tanks flattening every scrap of hope inside her.
While a burning fury raged at her captors, she was just as angry with herself. She should have known better than to leave the hotel. What was she thinking? She knew exactly the kind of people they were dealing with.
Was Con even in danger? For all she knew, she’d been taken in by a scheme to draw her out. She’d fallen straight into the trap, too.
No way would she ever work for Charlie team now. Even if she had agreed, she would back out. She wasn’t cut out for spy games. She was a professor. She’d stick to her whiteboard and her midterm exams. She’d keep her crappy parking spot and deal with wet clothes and an awful ex.
She’d be safe.
She’d also be lonely. Having Con drop into her life was the most thrilling thing that ever happened to her. Working with the special operator was exhilarating. His mind, stimulating. She didn’t want to let that go, no matter how terrifying it was to love him.
Light footsteps on the plank floor signaled that someone was coming. She gripped her fingers together where they were secured behind her back and lifted her jaw in defiance just as her captor cleared the doorframe.
He was thin with a delicate bone structure and hunched shoulders. What he didn’t have in physical presence he made up for with a cruel streak.
When he paced toward her, she braced herself. He whipped out a fist aimed straight at her face. His knuckles glanced off her cheekbone.
Pain exploded through her, and she felt skin split and the hot trickle of blood. She bit back a cry—she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he was so blatantly searching for. Holding it inside took a supreme force of will. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. Keeping them from falling took effort worthy of a Navy SEAL.
The man stared at her face, eyes narrowed as if she was pulling something over on him.
“You have a call,” he said in a broken accent.
Her mind reeled from the blow and pain echoing inside. But she latched on to what he was saying. A call? Her stomach pitched. It had to be Con. Nobody else could find her.
When she nodded that she understood, stars flashed across her vision. She could not pass out. Would not.
“Untie me.”
He stared at her impassively. She glared back. When he moved forward, she caught the scent of body odor and spicy food. Her stomach clenched in abhorrence, and bile lingered in her throat.
He held out a phone. “Talk.” He pressed the phone to her ear with a painful bite.
Sophie’s breaths came fast and furious. “Hello?”
“Professor Edwards.” The person spoke English. He sounded American.
But it wasn’t Con.
It might be one of his teammates.
“Who is this?”
“This is how this works, Sophie. I talk. You listen. You’ve been traded for the shipping agent’s wife.”
“They…rescued her?”
A curt laugh filled her ear and pushed fear through her. “The only reason they have her is because I allowed it.”
Her mind tripped over what he was saying. This was a person who had power. Controlled things, controlled situations. He had to be the person responsible for those cryptograms.
“I’m not worth near as much as the shipping agent’s wife. What can I possibly do for you?”
“You’re the insurance policy that will ensure my bomb reaches the destination.”
Bomb? Her brain wanted to shut down, but she forced it to keep firing.
“What do you want from me ?”
“That man standing in front of you is going to keep you on the phone while I add you to a three-way call.”
“With whom?”
“With your boyfriend.”
Her stomach bottomed out. She felt as if somebody grabbed it and twisted. Con was alive. But he was about to be lured into this horrifying game. She knew him—he’d never stop searching for her once he learned she was kidnapped. His inner hero would storm in here with guns blazing.
It would get him killed.
“I’m putting you on the call now. My man is going to give you a script to read. Stick to the script, Sophie. No deviations.”
She listened hard for any trace of an accent that would place him in a region of the United States, but she couldn’t pick up on one.
“Understand?” His biting tone, coupled with the way the man in the room fisted his hand when she didn’t answer, made her pulse pound.
“I understand.” She darted her tongue over her dry lips.
When the man produced a folded piece of paper and held it in front of her face, new tingles of fear slithered thickly through her. She recognized the writing from the first cryptogram she’d deciphered.
“Who are you?” Her voice wobbled.
“I’m called Cipher.”
She stared blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room. The man had given himself some kind of villain name. He was also the mastermind behind the cryptograms.
Her stomach gripped. She’d spent too much time in this man’s head. Talking to him felt like she was experiencing evil up close and personal.
“If I read this the way you have it written, he’ll know that I’m being forced to say these things. I need to embellish a little to sound natural.”
“You’re not auditioning for a part. Do as I say!”
She squeezed her hands behind her in an effort to keep them from shaking so badly. “Okay.”
“I’m getting your boyfriend on the line now. If you misbehave, my men will hurt you.”
She swallowed the bile bubbling in her throat. “I understand.”
The line was silent. Then she heard a click as Cipher connected a third party to the line.
“Who is this?” Con’s sharp voice flooded her ear—and her heart.
“It’s Sophie.” Her gaze darted to the script in front of her.
“Sophie! Jesus Christ , where are you?”
“Con.” She kept herself from blurting all the things she hadn’t said to him. Now she might never get a chance.
The man in front of her thrust the script closer to her face.
She gulped in a breath. “I have to follow a script. I can’t deviate from the script.”
She placed emphasis on every word.
A beat of silence sounded on the line. Either he was flabbergasted by the situation or he knew to pay attention to what she was saying.
Taking a deep breath, she began to read. “You’ve cost us enough. Consider this your only warning: Stay away from the shipment. If you attempt to detain it or intercept it, you’ll never see your woman alive again.”
“Fuck!”
Her heart broke at that single word, uttered in such a broken way.
Too many seconds passed, and the man in front of her lifted a fist, threatening to make her continue if she didn’t do so on her own steam.
“This isn’t an idle threat. You might think your team is untouchable, but we will pick you off one by one. Don’t let her blood be on your hands. It’s your move.”
Her head whirled. She couldn’t let it end here. She couldn’t let Con go without giving him some clue. Any clue.
Back in the hotel, she’d acted silly, bantering with Con about code words and bouncing around the room striking spy poses.
If he was going to find her, she needed to give him a landmark to go by. When they brought her here, she’d taken in every single detail so she could recall it all later.
“I’d love to talk longer, but I have to go. It’s nom-nom time. I hope these guys can understand me—I’m pretty sure they only speak Lebanese.”
“Sophie—”
“Wave bye!”
As she sputtered the final words to the man she loved—maybe the last words she’d ever say to him—her captor snatched the phone away. She could only pray that Con heard her crazy code and understood it.
With his gaze trained on her, the man brought the phone to his ear for a moment, listening to whatever Cipher said on the other end of the line.
A gleam came into his eyes, dark and evil. “I have orders to strike you.”
She didn’t have time to brace herself. The blow rocked her. The wooden chair creaked under the hit. Pain threw her head back and snapped it forward again. Blood dripped in fat splats onto her lap.
She stared at the spots in a daze.
Sophie didn’t care if she’d incited Cipher’s wrath because she deviated from the script. It was well worth it if what she told Con gave him enough information to find her, or prevented that bomb from reaching the US and killing innocent people.
She looked at her captor…and smiled.