Hot SEAL (17 page)

“Heard that too. Didn’t want to believe it until you gave the word.” Remy huffed a breath. “All right, we’re ready. Waiting for your command.”

Dane glanced at his dive watch. “ETA in ten.”

“We’ll be here.”

“I know you will, you ornery Cajun motherfucker. Can’t wait to see you.”

“Easy does it, sir. I’m spoken for.”

Dane laughed. Remy was spoken for all right—by every woman he met. “So am I, man. But we’ll make it work somehow.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

In the end, the op was textbook. Or as textbook as it could be for a situation they’d never encountered before. The sub surfaced about a mile from shore.
Bad Medicine
was waiting, the men chattering excitedly with no idea there was a SEAL team beneath the waves.

HOT pulled into position and waited for the signal from Dane’s SEALs. Remy and his team were using submersibles to power through the water quietly. Their goal was to disable the rotors on
Bad Medicine
and the rudder on the sub. They would also sabotage the planes in order to prevent the sub from submerging once the fighting started. If the submarine went under, there was a chance the terrorists would blow the warhead where they were. It wouldn’t do the kind of damage that trucking the missile to Tampa—or any port—would do, but a nuclear bomb going off this close to shore would definitely cause damage to a very wide swath of Florida.

Dane listened intently on his comm link. He was calm because he was always calm during a mission, but the adrenaline flowed hot and fast. He wanted to be beneath the waves with his guys but he had to content himself with monitoring their progress from the assault boat.

He looked up at the faces trained on his. They were tense, waiting. Once they got the all clear from Remy, they were throttling this motherfucker up and taking the fight to the tangos. There was still a danger with the missile, but the nuclear launch sequence took time to perform—and HOT wasn’t giving these assholes the time to detonate their weapon, assuming they had the correct launch codes in the first place.

“Moby Dick is in the net,” Remy said, his voice quiet and sure in the night. “And he ain’t getting away.”

“Copy that,” Dane said. “Captain Ahab coming in for the kill.”

Chase took them so close to the two enemy craft without alerting the tangos that Dane could see the expressions on the men’s faces without needing binoculars.

“We’re a go,” Matt said. “Let’s put this bitch to bed.”

The lights on the assault boat suddenly switched on, flooding the area—and the enemies—with enough candlepower to light up the Superdome. The men scrambled for their weapons, but they were too blind to hit anything. Two men shimmied down the hatch of the sub, but before they could shut it, a wetsuit-clad SEAL was there, shouting orders and taking prisoners.

Dane stormed
Bad Medicine
with three of the guys. They gathered up the men—Omar Baz and the others who’d been prepared to betray their adopted country—and hustled them over to the assault boat where they were blindfolded and cuffed before being stowed in the hold.

The men who’d been piloting the submarine were captured and trussed as well. Dane and Matt transferred over to the submarine and went down the hatch. The sub wasn’t big, but it was roomier than was typical for a drug-running sub. It had compartments for drugs, and it was lined with over two hundred batteries for power. It also stank like ten-day-old jock straps.
 

“And there it is,” Matt said. “The source of all the trouble.”

A fat, camouflage-painted missile took up a good portion of the sub, looking like anything but a weapon capable of destroying thousands of lives.
 

“How’d they get this sonofabitch on board?” Dane said, looking at the missile and then up at the hatch. “That was a feat.”

Before Matt could answer, there was a scraping noise from one of the compartments—and then the door flung upward and an armed man took aim at the nearest target he could find.

The gunshot cracked like a sonic boom in the small space.

* * *

Ivy slouched in a chair next to Ace’s bed. The hospital hadn’t wanted to let her in at first, but she’d called Leslie Webb, who’d had a nice little chat with the administrator about who was family. So now she was here, holding Ace’s hand and waiting for him to wake up. Tears pricked her eyes as she watched him breathe with the help of a ventilator.
 

“He was lucky,” the nurse said as she checked his vitals. “The bullet didn’t hit anything major, but he lost a lot of blood. If he hadn’t been in as good shape as he is, he might not have made it.”

Ivy gave the woman a watery smile. “Ace loves to work out. Never saw a man more obsessed with keeping fit.”

“Well, honey, it shows. He’s kinda gorgeous, you know?”

“He is.”

The nurse left her then, and Ivy laid her cheek against Ace’s hand. “You need to wake up, buddy. We’ve got work to do.”

But Ace didn’t stir, and Ivy swallowed a load of frustration and fear. She still hadn’t heard from Dane, and it had been hours since she’d been hustled off the HOT assault boat and onto a Coast Guard vessel.
 

Miguel Ruiz was in custody, charged with kidnapping a federal officer and attempted murder of another. No matter how many high-powered lawyers he brought in, he wasn’t getting out of the US. Ivy wanted to be in on his interrogation, but that wasn’t going to happen. She’d told Leslie about the family connection, though she would have preferred to go to her grave with that information.

But she had to share it before Miguel did even though it effectively meant she was off the case. No more Ruiz takedowns for her. Though she’d gotten the big boss and he wasn’t going anywhere, so maybe she’d gotten a little justice for her mother after all. She’d wanted to kill him, but maybe this was better. This way he could detail his networks and give the DEA the information they needed to put an end to the Ruiz branch of the drug trade.

She had no doubt he would bargain. He would have to if he didn’t want to end up in a maximum-security facility. No, he’d want the country-club experience—and they’d give it to him if he helped them take down his family.

Her phone—a new one that had been waiting for her when she reached Miami—buzzed in her pocket. She snatched it up and answered with a clipped “McGill.”

She could hear the wind. And then a voice spoke.

“We got them. Wanted you to know.”

A boat motor churned in the background, and Ivy’s insides turned to mush. “Dane? You’re okay?”

“Calling you, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” She noticed that he sounded strained, but she supposed that was because he’d just come off a high-pressure mission. She knew what it was like to stay keyed up afterward. “How did you know about this number?”

“Mendez.”

Thank you, Colonel Mendez.
“When will I see you?”

“We’re on the way home. Have to debrief. See you in a few days.”

“Days?” That wasn’t what she’d expected, and it made her chest hurt. What would happen to their conversation in a few days? He’d seemed to care earlier, and yet… what if he didn’t care the way she wanted him to? What if she was completely wrong about everything?
 

“It’s the job, baby. You know that.”

“Yes, I know.” It was one of the things that had torn them apart in the first place—but what if it was more than that this time? What if he was looking for a way out, no matter that he’d called her his girl earlier? Could that have simply been a knee-jerk response?

Her heart throbbed with pain and questions and uncertainty, yet there would be no answers tonight.

“How’s Ace?”

She glanced at her partner. “Still in a coma.”

“I’m sorry, honey. But he’s tough. He’ll pull through. The doctors said so.”

“I know.”

There were voices in the background. “Gotta go, Ivy. Talk to you in DC.”

She gripped the phone tight. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end. But what could she say? I love you?
 

No, not going there. Not like this.
 

“Okay. See you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

The phone went dead, and she cradled it against her cheek, numbness slipping through her in time to the beeping of Ace’s machines.
 

Everything in her life was changing, and she had no control. Her partner was in a coma. The job she’d loved for years was in jeopardy. She wasn’t even
who
she’d thought she was all these years—and the ex-husband she’d tried so hard to forget was once more at the center of her thoughts. The center of her world.

Ivy dropped her head to the bar on Ace’s bed and closed her eyes. What more could go wrong?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dane tugged at his collar and thought for at least the millionth time that this was a bad idea. He probably should have called first.

But it was too late now. He’d donned the Navy whites, complete with his SEAL trident and all his medals over his left pocket. He stared at his mirrored reflection in the elevator. Damn, would he impress her or scare her? He knew he looked good in the whites, but his eye was black and blue, the edges of the bruise yellowing. When that tango had surprised them in the hold of the sub, he’d gone down hard, hitting his face against the steel bench and practically knocking himself out.

Matt hadn’t fared much better. He’d sprained his wrist and scraped the hell out of his hand. The bullet the asshole had fired at them ricocheted off the steel two or three times before hitting the assailant in the throat. It was divine justice, but damn if it hadn’t been a scary few seconds.

They’d hauled the fucker out of the sub, bleeding profusely from his wound, and secured the cargo. The missile was safely tucked away in a military bunker, its guts being disassembled and studied. Florida would never know what had almost happened to it, thank God.

Dane held a bouquet of white and pink tulips in his left hand—because tulips were Ivy’s favorite—and felt the heat of uncertainty crawling up his throat again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten Colonel Mendez to get him entry into the DEA. Maybe he should have gone to her apartment and waited for her like a sensible man.

But he didn’t want to wait, and he didn’t want to do anything by half measures. Because the one thing he’d realized during this mission was that he wanted Ivy back in his life. However she would take him. When he’d thought he’d lost her—Jesus, he couldn’t even think about it. That had been the lowest moment of his life.

The elevator opened, and he found himself on the floor that was supposed to be where Ivy worked. He strode into the foyer and found a receptionist whose mouth dropped open as he approached.

“Oh, uh, can I help you, sir?”

“Ivy McGill,” he said. “I’m here to see her.”

“I, uh… yes, sir.” She picked up the phone and dialed. After a few moments, she frowned at him. “Agent McGill isn’t at her desk, sir.”

Frustration hammered him. “How about Leslie Webb?”

“Of course, sir.” She dialed again. This time someone must have answered because she started to talk. “Yes, ma’am. A Navy man, ma’am. In whites, yes. Holding flowers.”

When she hung up, she stood. “This way, sir.”

She led him through doors that opened into a cube farm. He followed her through the aisles until she reached a group of desks. A woman looked up, interest crossing her features as she stood.

“Who’s this, Megan?” she asked the receptionist.

Dane held out his hand. “Lieutenant Erikson, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”

The woman’s eyes roved over him as she took his hand and shook it. “Agent Taylor. Can we help you, Lieutenant?”

“Only if you know where Agent McGill is.”

“Uh, I think she went down the hall for a few minutes. Probably checking on something.” Her gaze landed on his chest. “You’re a SEAL.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dane?”

He swung around to find Ivy approaching. Her mouth dropped open, her pretty eyes growing wide and a maybe even a little surprised. And then there was the concern when she took in his bruised face. She put a hand to her mouth and didn’t say a word.

“Hello, Ivy,” he said as warmth flowed through him like a hot shower on a cold day.
 

“I… Dane, are you all right?”

“Fine… why?”

She shook her head. “That’s a hell of a shiner.”

“Got into a little scrape.”

“A little scrape.” Her throat worked, and then her gaze dropped over him, back up again. “Are you on your way to a military banquet or something?”
 

He grinned. “Said I wanted to talk to you.”

She crossed her arms and a little current of dread zipped through him. In truth, he had no idea what kind of reception she was going to give him. Maybe his heart was the only one pounding like crazy. Maybe he was the only one who thought he might die if he didn’t get to kiss her again.

“It’s been nearly two weeks since I last heard from you. I thought you’d changed your mind.”