Page 14 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

She had a box she used. Emotions stayed in their lane and got locked away.

When she went into law enforcement, it was all about proving herself, and she wasn’t going to dilute her message by getting involved with anyone related to her job.

Romantic vulnerability was the most dangerous kind.

The cost of trusting the wrong man was too high, and it would be a weapon to be used against her.

One comment that she slept her way in was all it would take, and it would circulate with ease.

Boomer felt like a risk she couldn’t control. A man with too much emotional insight and too little ego. He had simply told her how he felt without asking anything of her. Not one freaking thing.

Her heart lurched as she stared at herself in the mirror. It was true. She was afraid, and she was using his not showing up as ammunition to keep him controlled. Her mantra: Stay strong → stay silent → stay alone → stay in control → repeat.

For her, the only safety she’d ever trusted was the kind she made herself.

Vulnerability led to manipulation. That need was a weakness someone would use against her.

But Boomer had just taken that edict and turned it around completely.

He’d been vulnerable with no manipulation.

Just the baring of his heart to her without expecting a thing in return.

How did a person deal with such a man?

He didn’t demand she open up. Never asked her to let down her guard. Instead, he showed her his truth through his agonizing words.

She pushed away from the sink, ashamed of how she’d treated him, especially after she found out he’d been deployed. She knew how he felt. He’d just told her.

Blew her fear that if she let anyone in, she would lose control, and they would use it against her. She’d believed that vulnerability equaled powerlessness. But she’d just had her foundational belief challenged by a man who had just shown her what power in vulnerability looked like.

She couldn’t tear her heart away.

An hour later, Taylor walked into one of the two briefing rooms, the largest one, concrete walls, long steel table, flat screens already lit. Two flags hung on the far wall: EU and NATO. A subdued seal of MAOC (N) framed the monitors.

Taylor took a seat and sat straight-backed near the head of the table, tablet in hand, face calm, trying to pretend her blood wasn’t still simmering beneath her skin, thankful for the cold room in which she had to deliver information without emotion.

She’d just melted down in her quarters and knew the extent of her resistance to Boomer.

Knew that they couldn’t move into this mission until she cleared the air.

Light pooled from the overhead fluorescents, casting sterile shadows across the long conference table. One wall was dominated by a tactical display, the digital map of the Portuguese coast studded with tracking dots and pulsing threat markers.

Anna Graham entered smoothly, all confidence and black tacticals, and took position near the screen.

Men started to filter in. Several of the Brits, Boomer’s teammates, some of them giving her looks she couldn’t decipher. They weren’t exactly hostile…but the welcome had cooled in their eyes.

Boomer walked in, and she expected him to avoid eye contact.

But that man… damn that freaking man, met her gaze unflinching, with a bruised quality that almost made her cry.

There was no push there, no anger, no subterfuge that she normally got from men who wanted her.

Bash included. It was his bullshit that had made her nix any kind of romance between them, then later her feelings had cooled until he was nothing but a best friend.

Not exactly something he accepted, but that was too bad. She’d made herself clear.

Boomer could not be compared to Bash. There was no comparison. He was unique, in a league of his own. He thought he didn’t measure up to her. Gott . That was so far from the truth. He took a seat next to Breakneck, who was watching the exchange like he was Boomer’s chaperone.

She studied Breakneck. Kelly Gatlin. He was a delicious morsel, a raw charisma that shouted bad boy, a father’s worst nightmare, and too dangerous to handle. She had to give him that with his shock of dark unruly hair and those cobalt blue eyes.

But did he affect her? No, not in the slightest. It was Boomer who affected her beyond her wildest imagination. She was convinced there was no man who could surprise her. But again, Boomer was real, not charming, although he used his own special charisma like a precision weapon.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming here and assisting MAOC with this rapidly increasing threat. The SEALs have been offered to us by the United States because of their unique water interdiction expertise.” The Brits murmured, but Captain Lockhart cleared his throat, and they stopped.

“SBS has also been offered as a backup to the SEALs. We also appreciate the United Kingdom’s participation and funding for our fight against maritime narcotics smuggling. ”

Boomer shifted and she inhaled the freshly showered scent of him.

Working like mad to keep her mind on her introduction, she forced herself to focus.

She brought up her tablet and looked down at it.

“As of this morning, satellite and naval surveillance confirmed a spike in spoofed transponder activity across the Lisbon-Casablanca corridor.” She tapped her screen and the map on one of the large monitors zoomed in.

Anna cut in. “The US Coast Guard seized a cartel ship off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina, headed, we suspect, to the harbor to offload its lethal cargo.”

Boomer sat near the front, arms folded, but Taylor could feel him even without looking. His presence was like static. Like a hum just beneath the frequency of her thoughts.

Taylor picked up the thread of Anna’s presentation.

“It was crewed by drug traffickers with an unknown affiliation. This particular pill is labeled Red Tide. The phrase matches an encrypted message intercepted by MAOC-N weeks earlier but dismissed.” She used her tablet to send a picture of the confiscated pills.

“Our mission has been dubbed Operation Red Tide.”

“One of the traffickers broke and told us they were mapping new routes, including the US Coast.” Anna set down her tablet.

“The CIA, unable to act unilaterally in EU waters, drafted and sent a MOU, Memorandum of Understanding, to suggest allied cooperation via MAOC. The US route is unsubstantiated, but we feel it’s a credible threat.

We intend to interdict your waters for these ghost ships and intel. ”

She nodded to Taylor, who said, “That leads us to what we're dealing with and what our missions will comprise.” Boomer shifted again and her hands tightened on the tablet.

“In the context of drug smuggling, ‘ghost ships’ generally refer to vessels that are used by drug trafficking organizations or DTOs who attempt to evade detection by law enforcement.

This can involve several tactics, including disabling or manipulating the Automatic Identification System or AIS.

This is often referred to as ‘going dark’ and makes the vessel difficult to track.

Changing the ship's identity. This involves frequently altering names, identification numbers, or flags, also known as ‘flag hopping,’ ship-to-ship, or STS transfers. While not inherently illegal, these transfers can allow cargo to change hands without documentation or witnesses, making illicit goods harder to trace.”

“So, we breach the ships and take down the smugglers and confiscate the contraband?” Boomer asked. “Will you be involved in the takedown?”

There was no challenge in his tone. No ego. Just the question. His expression held no judgment, just a touch of frustration. He said his peace, now he was giving her space. That was seductive, grounding, allowing her to choose and make her own decisions.

Just patience, not backing down, but a kind of quiet acceptance. The next move was hers. Whatever it would be.

She wasn’t sure what that move was yet. All she knew was that she had to talk to him. Had to clear the air before this mission buried them both in protocol and adrenaline.

Taylor looked at him, met those sultry eyes. “Yes. I’ll be embedded with your team, part of the personnel.” She looked at Skull. “Bones will be essential in sniffing out the drugs.”

Skull rubbed Bones’s head. “He’s raring to go, ma’am.”

“GSG 9 prepared you for this kind of work, but ship interdiction is a different animal. You prepared to get wet?” Boomer asked.

Her lungs locked for a second.

Not the time. Not the place. But this man was definitely a distraction.

She almost swallowed her tongue at his question, shivering at the sensual tone to his voice, even though she was sure he wasn’t using a double entendre. Then his eyes sparked, and she wasn’t so sure after all.

Her voice came out hoarse. “I’m a certified diver. That won’t be a problem.”

His voice was lower during questions. Measured. Professional. It didn’t matter. It curled through her like a wire had been coiled around her spine and charged every time he opened his mouth.

He asked sharp, smart questions. Quietly made notes.

Occasionally glanced at her. That was the problem.

She’d just outrun a Brit in a five-mile sprint.

She’d climbed through a cartel safehouse with her bare hands.

But this? Sitting in a meeting with Boomer two chairs away, watching her like she still mattered? It left her breathless.

Every time he spoke, she flinched inside at every goddamned word.

Her cell rang and everyone in the room stilled. She grabbed it and listened to command. Once she disconnected the call, she turned to Iceman and Captain Lockhart. “We have a mission package. There’s a suspicious vessel off the coast. We go after nightfall.”