Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
MITRY-MORY, FRANCE (THREE YEARS LATER)
“We’re chasing daylight, boys,” Asher said over his comm. “Three more tangos left, and we’re out of here.”
“Bravo One, this is Two.” Owen’s voice popped into his ear. “We’ve got a problem. I have two tangos in my sights—they’ve both got s-belts. They’re in the room with the laptop.”
Asher peered over his shoulder at Bravo Four, Liam, and raised a fist into the air to hold position. “Bravo Two, this is One. Get them away from the computer before they set those damn things off.”
“Roger that,” Owen replied, and a battery of gunshots sounded in Asher’s ear.
“Coming in for an assist, Bravo Two.” Asher clutched his 50-caliber sniper rifle and motioned for Liam to move back.
“Bravo One, you have seven minutes to get to the exfil site,” Jessica said over the radio.
“Copy that, but we’re—” Asher’s words were cut off as a blast from down the hall threw him back, rocking his chest cavity as he fell.
“Asher. Asher?” A voice was in his ears, but he couldn’t get his eyes to open.
Salt on his tongue. Wet sand on his back.
Hands and feet bound on the beach.
Why am I back in BUD/S? Asher’s stomach squeezed as he tried to force his eyes open, to force the ringing in his ears away.
SEALs aren’t made, boy—they’re born. His training officer had hollered the timeless saying at him on the beach as he had done flutter kicks. Twenty-five percent of you won’t live to see thirty. You gonna be one of them?
Asher had shaken his head. No, sir!
You gonna be a quarterback, boy? Or a Teamguy?
Teamguy, sir! Asher had shouted as he’d continued to kick, his body fatigued as all hell.
Good. Now get up!
“Asher! Get up, man! Get up!”
He blinked back to the present and finally forced his eyes open, the ringing in his ears subsiding, which was a good sign. “You okay?” he asked Liam. He coughed, attempting to clear his lungs.
“I’m good,” Liam answered and handed him his rifle once Asher was on his feet.
“Bravo Two, this is One; you copy?”
Silence.
“Do a radio check,” Asher sputtered to Liam.
“Nothing on my end.” Liam swiped at the tendrils of smoke still curling in the air around them.
“What the hell?” His brown eyes narrowed as he spied Jessica rounding the corner at the far end of the hall.
But at the sound of something coming from the direction of the blast, Asher whipped around to see a tango charging their way, gun in hand.
“Get Jessica out of here!” Asher hollered.
“To a job well done.” Asher raised his bottle in the air and clinked it with Owen’s.
“And to only five more days of you being Bravo One,” Jessica added and touched her beer to the gathered bottles amongst the team. “I can’t wait until Luke is back to take over with me.”
“Oh, come on, you loved having me at your side.” Asher tipped back his beer and guzzled it.
“Like a root canal,” she said with a laugh.
“Really, though, you two survived over two months without killing each other while Luke’s been gone,” Knox noted and lifted his brows, a smile in his eyes. “I say that’s cause for celebration when we get back.”
“Yeah, you’re right—I guess I managed not to kill him.” Jessica took a seat on the only available barstool and swiveled around to face the team. The rest of the guys—Asher, Liam, Knox, Wyatt, and Owen—remained standing in front of her.
“Not that you didn’t try earlier today.” Asher touched his abdomen, remembering the bullet that had hit him. “You shouldn’t have come into the compound.” You could’ve died, damn it.
She took a sip of her Guinness. “And you shouldn’t have lost your focus and let that guy get the drop on you.”
He rolled his eyes. How could he not lose focus when bullets were flying, an IED had been detonated, and she decided to join the party?
“His vest caught the slug. Just a bruise beneath.” Liam tapped him on the shoulder.
His abs had turned purple from the impact, but yeah, he’d be fine. Jessica was good—so he was good.
“But, seriously, a job bloody well done,” Wyatt, normally on Echo Team, said. He was taking Asher’s spot as Bravo Three since Asher had assumed the role of Bravo One while Luke was on paternity leave.
“It was a huge win for us.” Owen nodded and then began texting on his phone. Asher assumed he was contacting Samantha, his fiancée, and letting her know he was okay.
Nine bad guys down. And one laptop full of names of arms dealers supplying weapons to terrorists. It’d been a good fucking day. Even if they’d nearly been blown to hell, and Asher had gotten shot.
Jessica wedged her bottle between her thighs and swept her hair into a messy bun, some loose strands drifting around her face.
“Another round, darlin’.” Liam thickened his Aussie accent for the bartender. “S'il vous pla?t,” he added and winked.
Asher tossed his empty bottle, turned away from the team, and retrieved his phone to check his messages.
He hadn’t heard from his sister in a few weeks, and it was making him nervous.
She always returned his calls. He’d had a former Teamguy, Noah Dalton, check on her the other day, just to make sure she was still alive.
She was breathing and doing fine, which meant one thing: she was avoiding him for some reason. But why?
He tapped out another quick message to Sarah and then stowed his phone before rejoining the group.
“I should’ve stayed here for the weekend.” Jessica’s eyes went to Asher’s stomach, and her lip pulled between her teeth.
Did she feel guilty about distracting him earlier?
He maneuvered between Owen and Jessica to snatch his new drink from the counter, and he brushed against her shoulder in the process.
A twinge of . . . something . . . shot down his spine at the mere touch, and it had him swallowing as he edged away from her.
“You need a vacation?” Owen asked, a smile on his lips. Jessica had forced Owen to take some time off, and it’d ended up with him falling in love a few months back.
“No.” She looked at Owen off to her right. “I’ve got to be in Germany next week.”
“Everything okay?” Asher asked. “Why are we only now hearing about this trip?”
“It was a last-minute request for me to come.” Her pupils constricted and guilt crossed her face. “It’s been six months since I’ve visited the girls—they need me. And I see my other class a lot more often.”
“First of all,” Asher began, “the girls in your other class live in New York. It’s a bit more convenient, so don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head a touch to connect with her eyes, to ensure he had her attention. “And secondly, you practically spend all of your free time teaching them online.”
“He’s right. You have no life.” Wyatt nodded to add emphasis to his words. “I understand why you teach kids in the Bronx, but what led you to teach coding and tech skills to refugees all the way over in Germany?”
“Yeah, Jess, why?” Owen cocked his head, a smirk stretching his lips. He’d asked her the same question before, trying to bait her into admitting she was compassionate beneath her tough exterior. She always shut him down, though.
Asher knew the truth behind her motives. She was keeping a secret, and it all had to do with the op they’d worked together six years ago—the one no one knew about, especially not Luke.
Asher took a slow and deliberate breath, the kind someone takes in an attempt to prevent his lungs from bursting when a B-52 drops a bomb nearby. The day he’d first laid eyes on Jessica crept back into his mind, and it had him rubbing his temples with his free hand.
You got any brains to go with that brawn? Jessica had asked from inside TOC. They’d been going over the intel to prep for the mission in Syria.
I say something to make you think otherwise? Asher had smacked a palm to his chest and studied the woman whose looks could bring a man to his knees.
Only every fifth word, she’d quipped with that smart mouth of hers he’d wanted to kiss. Apparently, that mouth of hers had had him stumbling through his words like a damn idiot, leading her to question his mental faculties.
I got the distinct vibe you hated me, he’d said the next day as she’d ripped her clothes off between hungry kisses.
I do, she’d hissed and jumped into his arms a moment later, wrapping her bare legs around his hips.
“It’s the least I can do for the girls,” Jessica said, obstructing Asher’s memories, hurling him back to the present. “I’m hoping to give them a better life in Germany. Not to only be thought of as refugees.”
“They’ll become mini-yous with all that coding you’re teaching them,” Liam commented.
“There can never be another Jessica,” Asher said, and a few of the guys cleared their throats at his words.
“So, uh, are you going to see family while you’re in Germany?” Owen asked, coming in for the assist to kill the sudden awkwardness.
“No, my relatives live in Munich,” she answered, but she cast Asher a suspicious look as if she were somehow reading his thoughts. “I won’t have time.”
“No sense going over the Atlantic just to turn around and fly back this way.” Owen dropped onto a now-empty stool beside her. “I can cover you until Luke’s back if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“She doesn’t want to leave me in charge.” Asher gulped his beer, but it was too warm for his taste.
Knox looked at Asher and scratched at his jaw. “Did you guys catch the Giants game last weekend?”
“I don’t give a damn about American football,” Wyatt said with a laugh, missing the intentional change in topic.
Asher moved to stand directly in front of Jessica, and the team parted like the Red Sea. All he could focus on was her blue eyes. “We can handle things with both you and Luke gone.”
Her hand tightened around the bottle, and she brought the rim to her lips, allowing it to hover there. The simple act like a taunt to his dick. A tease of seduction.
Every time he’d see her drink a beer—hell, even a bottle of water—it had his balls nearly falling off from becoming the most navy-fucking-blue ever.
His mind had been in the gutter more than normal since they’d been working nonstop together.