Page 23 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

Taylor nodded, slow. “Three trips. One late night. No chatter we could decrypt. Which usually means something’s being planned offline.”

Boomer didn’t like that. Offline meant traps. Offline meant dead zones.

His gaze slid sideways to her. “You know they might’ve rigged it. Not just to hide production, but to bury it .”

Taylor exhaled through her nose, sharp. “Yes. I agreed with the ship interdiction but offered my advice on hitting the warehouse.”

“We’re still going in.”

“Yes,” she repeated, lower now. “We have to. That container Rovika at Leix?es? It’s not just fentanyl they’re hiding. We have partial flags that suggest red-label Russian precursor components. Cross-border distribution. This is bigger than powder. This is weaponization.”

Boomer’s gut turned. His fingers curled into a fist against the edge of the board. “You believe that intel?”

“I do and, more importantly, Raul does. He says we have to be aggressive if we want to get this shit off our coast, safeguard Portugal, get you the intel you need for your own plan to stop this illegal activity from threatening your East Coast, and to find the source of this trafficking.”

“Enough to walk into a rigged building?”

She met his eyes. “Like I said. I offered advice. We’re going in.

I don’t like it. But I’m going to rely on you and your team to spot anything out of the ordinary.

You guys have great instincts.” She stepped closer, and he stilled.

She cupped his face, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone.

“I don’t want to send you in there. I know you’re up to any task.

That’s not the problem. The problem is I’m selfish.

I want—” She lowered her forehead to his, her eyes now so soft, he felt her tenderness in his blood.

She took a breath, and he wanted to pull her against him, knew what she was going to say to finish that sentence.

It was a fucking tightrope to walk, and they both were aware, and she…

fuck… she wasn’t backing down. She was the lifeline to the ops, and they were the heavy lifters.

She realized what she’d said and looked away, jaw tightening. “I’m not careless, Carter. You know that.”

“I do.”

She stepped back, grabbed another file off the table, and handed it to him. “This one’s the ship layout. In case we don’t find what we need at the site. Maritime command’s staging interception after our op. If they lose track of the cargo, we follow it onboard.”

Boomer accepted it. His fingers brushed hers. Warm. Steady. But charged. Now for the second set of hard questions. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“About?”

“You know what, sugar. I felt it when you avoided my eyes. I’m so in tune with you right now, I know every beat of your fucking heart. Remember what I said. Honesty will be the best way to handle anything you’re unsure about.” He didn’t touch her, but he had her as if he were.

“I’m…sorting things out. I-I…don’t know what to say right now, but I’m not interested in backing down when it comes to getting to know you. I can only promise that I’m trying to understand myself and stuff that has nothing to do with you but has everything to do with me.”

“I don’t give a damn about any of that. If you need to figure something out, use me.

I’m not going anywhere.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m struggling with some stuff too. Things I already told you about, but I texted you for a reason, and you texted me back for a reason.

There’s something here…between us, that is amazing. Yes?”

She took a soft breath. “ Gott , yes.” Her eyes were now as stormy as an incoming nor’easter. She bit her lip, her eyes turning even more tender, but the steel was still there. “I’ve never had this,” she whispered. “Not like this. So, whatever happens in there...you better come back with me.”

He smiled, and she smiled back, maybe a little shaky, but it was there. He hefted the files. “If I have anything to do with it. No one dies except the people who need to.” He stepped back. “I’ll prep for a clean entry,” he said quietly.

Taylor’s voice was barely audible. “I know you will. You’re a demo god.”

“Now who’s being charming?”

She cleared the two steps separating them.

She grasped a handful of his shirt. Her mouth was hot and warm as her lips brushed his, then firm as they pressed hard and quick against his.

“I’m not being charming. I’m being dead honest. If I was to trust anyone with this breach, it would be you.

” She retreated, her fists clenching like she wanted to do something more with her hands.

He paused at the door. “Aw, shucks, Red, you’re making me blush.”

“ Boomer ,” she bit out as he chuckled and closed the door. He paused outside the door, the files in hand, her scent still clinging to his skin. She’d almost said it, almost told him what he already knew. That she wanted more. That she wanted him .

If he hadn’t been about to risk both their lives, he might have let himself believe it was enough. They were going in blind here, and the unknown of the op wasn’t as terrifying as the unknown with her.

But he couldn’t stop the question now threading through his ribs like detcord. Was he breacher enough to take down those load-bearing walls? His hands ached to trace the structure and the pressure points, figure out where to place the charges, and detonate with her.

Where the breacher becomes the explosion.

He walked away, heart a little heavier than when he came in. Wanting her was one thing. But earning her trust? That was going to take more than clean entries and tight charges. It was going to take every piece of himself he’d been trying to keep buried.

He headed directly to find Ellis “Forge” Ward, SBS’s breacher, to get his take on these schematics. If he hadn’t fucked up so royally in the past, he might have let himself believe it was enough.

An hour later, the MAOC conference room was full of way too many alphas—the kind of aggression that made Boomer’s skin itch beneath the collar of his shirt, still damp from sweat and salt air.

That was adrenaline and testosterone in the mix, warriors ready, willing, and able to carry out whatever op was mandated.

He sat at the back of the room, shoulders set and still, flanked by Skull and Bones and Breakneck, who each kept their own brand of stillness, Skull methodical and unreadable, Bones panting, tongue lolling, ready at a moment’s notice to spring into action.

Breakneck watchful, keyed tight. Hazard and GQ, looking like twin models, were talking softly to each other, Kodiak was sliding his fingers across his tablet, probably making sure he had all his checkmarks for his med kit, Preacher introspective and serene, the man took Zen to another level, and his master chief’s intense pale eyes were as sharp as icicles.

Across the table, the Brits sat like coiled wire, especially Bash, brow low, all silent calculation and sharp edges.

He didn’t track Taylor, he tracked Boomer.

Lockhart stood beside Iceman, waiting with the ease of a leader.

Anna sat with half her butt on a table, the other foot on the floor. She looked a little green around the gills. He wondered if she was ill.

Taylor stood at the front of the room beside the projection screen, her voice calm, crisp, unyielding.

“The trucks are loaded with acetyl chloride, piperidine, and several solvent agents used in refining. All documented. The thermal and route traces confirm passage from Setúbal to a civilian warehouse hub near Alcantara. We believe they’ve already begun reconstitution inside the facility.

Possibly mobile compression labs, possibly dry-handoff cells for maritime shipment. ”

She clicked through the images. Satellite overlays. Thermal spikes. A grainy time-stamped photo of a man unloading crates behind a rusted security fence.

“The Rovika tied to Leix?es is a flagged container vessel registered out of Monrovia. It departs in twelve hours. We don’t have time for niceties. We breach, sweep, collect residue samples, confirm occupancy, and trace any op-for on-site back through comm intercepts.”

Boomer translated op-for, meaning if they encountered any enemy personnel at the site, they would trace them back through their communication channels, phones, radios, encrypted devices, to uncover who they’re working with or reporting to.

Boomer didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his focus never left her.

The room pulsed with tension, the kind that only came before impact. Taylor moved like a woman bracing herself against more than just cartel logistics. She had that edge in her voice again, tight, measured. She wasn’t just briefing an op. She was holding the center.

She did it so well.

But he saw just at the edges the storm beneath.

She wore the weight like armor. She changed the slide.

An overhead schematic. “Target building is a decommissioned warehouse. Records show it used to house agricultural shipping. Minimal infrastructure updates. No reinforced supports, no secondary power source. It shouldn’t be stable enough to support large-scale synthesis.

But we believe the mezzanine is being used for storage. Could be product. Could be people.”

“Boomer?”

Boomer rose slow, deliberate, his presence calm and grounded, and stepped to the front with the steadiness of a man who didn’t need to posture to be listened to.

He took the clicker from Taylor’s hand with a brief nod, careful not to touch her, though the air between them sparked with every unspoken word.

He changed the slide. A top-down schematic. “Forge and I went over this frame by frame.”

Forge nodded once from across the room.

Boomer circled key ingress points with the laser. “Standard delivery access here and here. Side utility door, possibility of secondary egress along this alley choke point.”