Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Let me help you. I watched my mom do this for my dad many times growing up.” She smiled and knotted Owen’s tie.
He captured her wrist before she finished and held her eyes. He couldn’t help but catch the fact she was wearing her powerhouse work perfume, which was fitting, because he sure as hell hoped they’d kick ass tonight.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he found himself saying.
Her lips parted in surprise.
He released his hold of her slim wrist so she could finish with his tie. “The protection,” he clarified. “I forgot to strap something on, and I never forget things like that.”
“Always prepared,” she said with a smile. “So am I, though. Birth control.” She stepped back, eying his tie to assess her handiwork.
He released a hard breath. “Okay. Good.” He wasn’t ready to be a father. First, he needed to make sure she got through the night without so much as a scratch.
“We got caught up in the moment. It’s okay.” She smoothed her hands down the sides of the velvet dress. “Just so you know, I’m really not a sex addict.” She swallowed, fighting her nerves. “Apparently, though, around you, I just can’t get sex off my brain.”
You sure that’s all it is? He left the thought to himself, though, and edged closer, his brows pulling together. “Just with me, huh?”
“Must be your devilish good looks and insanely ripped body that have my hormones taking control of my brain.”
He stroked his beard, but the air changed between them. Maybe it was because they both realized they were five minutes away from the start of the op. “You ready?”
“Hope so.” She turned as if to hide her nerves, and it had him taking a hard breath, wishing they could return to their casual banter.
“You can back out. It’s not too late.”
“No way,” she said quickly but bowed her head.
He spied the rosary beads tattooed at the base of her neck, and an idea brushed across his mind.
He strode past her to his black duffel bag and crouched to zip it open.
“Forget something?”
“Almost.” He stood and faced her with a small box in hand. “Not a ring. Don’t worry,” he half-joked to ease some of the tension, then felt like kicking himself in the ass for the comment because Brad had died a few weeks after proposing to her.
The guilt that had beckoned him after they’d first had sex didn’t creep up on him tonight, though. He wasn’t sure why, or what that meant, but he’d take it because he couldn’t afford to lose his focus on the mission, not with Sam’s life on the line.
“What is it?” She bit her lip, curiosity in her eyes.
He crossed the room to meet her again and opened the jewelry box.
She reached inside and lifted it out. “A Celtic cross.” Her lips teased into a slight grin. “My grandfather was Irish.”
“With a name like McCarthy, I kind of figured.” His stomach tensed at the sight of the chain in her palm. “My dad moved from Dublin to the States when he was fifteen after his dad died. His mom had family in the U.S., and she came here.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and found his eyes. “Was this his?”
“Before he gave it to Jason, yeah.” The lump in his throat didn’t want to go down.
“Jason was the oldest, and since he joined the military before me, he got it.” He turned and set the box on the TV stand and then tucked his hands in his pockets, trying to stand as casually as possible, given what he was about to tell her.
“And now you have it . . .” She cupped her mouth with her free hand, and he could already see the tears brimming in her eyes, which wasn’t what he wanted to happen.
“Yeah, but Jason gave it to me.” His words had her eyes darting to his, surprise there. He tried to smile, to shrug away the emotions before he bared his feelings to her.
But he couldn’t get his lips to curve.
“Jason had an idea,” he said while blinking back to the past, to his brother’s words spoken so long ago.
“What was it?” She closed her hand around the necklace, holding it tight as if to channel the strength to hear what he was about to say.
“After I got out of the Naval Academy, he grabbed my alumni ring and told me if I wanted it back, I’d have to get it from him myself when I finished my first deployment.” His stomach muscles tightened. “So, I made him give me something.”
“His necklace,” she whispered.
He nodded. “And then we decided we would hang onto the stuff until we were both retired. We had plans to run Dad’s bar together when we hit our forties. I’d give him the necklace back then.” He swiped a hand down his jaw.
“What happened to your ring?” She opened her palm, offering him the necklace, but he shook his head.
“I never got it back. I think Teteruk took it off him because I know Jason always carried it with him as a good luck charm.”
She blew out a breath, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“I want you to wear that necklace tonight. It’s kept me safe for a long time. I’ve never gone on an op without it.”
“No,” she rushed out. “You need it.” Her hand trembled as she extended her arm to try and get him to take back the necklace.
“I need you safe, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re wearing it.” He gave a stiff nod. “You can give it back to me when this is all over.”
“Owen.”
He held a hand between them. “Please, do this for me?”
She took a long breath, as if considering his words, and then she turned around. “Help me put it on?”
He ignored the slight shaking of his hand as he connected the clasp, noticing the spread of goose bumps over her skin.
When she faced him again, she took him by surprise by slinging her arms around his neck and hugging him. He held her cheek to his chest, his heartbeat probably loud in her ear. “Everything ends tonight,” he said under his breath.
Teteruk wouldn’t be leaving alive.
The way Sam’s father had looked at her in the limo tonight told Owen one thing: he knew Sam was aware of the truth about Brad, even if she hadn’t said anything.
Senator McCarthy didn’t offer up an excuse or an explanation, not with Owen, Luke, and the others inside the limo, but he could see the apology in his eyes. He knew what regret looked like.
Once inside the function hall, Owen’s gaze darted to Sam’s fingertips as they dug into the material of her dress at her sides.
He’d give anything to reach down and hold her hand, to comfort her, but they were in a room of a hundred fifty people, and he had no idea how many were enemies of the United States.
Plus, his cover was as her bodyguard, so they couldn’t be seen hand-holding.
“You really pulled this off.”
Sam sipped her champagne and glanced at Viktor Gromov, the CEO of the Sven Group, who’d stepped up next to her. Two sharp lines cut through his forehead, and he scratched at the side of his dark hair. “You had doubts?”
“No, of course not,” he said, his voice blending with the Russian words drifting around them. “And who might your friend be?” The man’s brows slanted as he extended his hand.
“Bodyguard.” Owen shook his head, still not sure if the guy was in league with the Kozaks.
“You do not feel safe here?” Gromov directed his question to Sam and then snatched a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter carried it by. “Kidding. I have ten men to protect me. We both know not everyone is a big fan of Russia and the U.S. throwing this—how do you say?—shin-dig together?”
Sam smiled, maintaining her cool like a damn champ, and Owen couldn’t be prouder—even if everything in his chest hurt at the idea of her being here and in danger.
They’d been inside for just twenty minutes, and it felt like twenty minutes too long.
Owen surveyed the room. His heart took a quick climb into his throat at the sight of Laszlo near the stage at the front of the room. He did his best not to make eye contact, but it was hard not to stare at the man at the center of Sam’s nightmare.
Owen wanted revenge, too, but Laszlo had taken things to another level. “Be right back,” he said and moved out of earshot of Gromov. He cupped his jaw, so it didn’t look like he was talking to himself. “Eyes on the king.”
Jess’s voice popped into his ear. “Still no signs of the prince?”
“Negative. You?” He peered around the room, searching for Alexander Kozak.
The security guard confirmed Alexander had entered the building ten minutes before Owen and Sam arrived, but it made him nervous as hell they didn’t have eyes on him, especially since surveillance cameras had already been looped to hide the team’s movement throughout the building.
“Third and second floors are secure. But they have to be here,” Jess noted.
“We have forty-three minutes before the weapon releases the gas into the air ducts. Bravo Three is in the wings, waiting for the go-ahead to dismantle. We’ll give our guys twenty more minutes to find our people, but if not .
. .” Jess let her words trail off because Owen knew what she was saying.
They’d have to start phase two of the op, regardless of whether they recovered their missing men.
“Copy that.”
“I’m looking into a few things on my end while I’m out here, though. Something just feels off now that we’re here.”
“You care to explain?” Owen looked back at Sam, and her eyes connected with his, her fingers smoothing through her hair as she faked a smile at something Gromov had said.
He could already tell the difference between her real smile and the pretend one she used with the outside world, the one that hid her pain.
“Can’t yet. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Owen returned to Sam’s side but kept scanning the room, trying to locate Alexander Kozak.
“You’re the real brains behind all of this, aren’t you?” Gromov asked Sam. “Your dad is the face, and you’re the smarts.”
Owen glanced at Sam. A soft blush touched her cheeks as she finished her drink and set the glass on one of the nearby tabletops. “I’ll never tell.” She lifted her shoulders and winked at Gromov.