Page 2 of Covert Temptation (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #4)

She sat on the stiff couch, one of the few pieces of furniture in the spartan apartment besides a bed with an equally stiff mattress she barely slept on and a tiny dining table with a single chair.

The heater clanked like it was kicking for every breath of its life, but it never stopped running no matter what temperature she set the thermostat on. It was always so hot in the place that she’d given up on wearing anything but tank tops and yoga pants. Not that she had anybody to impress.

She was okay with just having the essentials. She could adapt. She knew how to paste on a polished smile even when her life was unraveling.

But this time…

She was cut off. Under suspicion.

The special ops team didn’t trust her. When Dante dropped her off here, he had been polite but distant—barely a step up from the irritating jerk he’d been to her all the other times.

The spyware discovered on her phone had been as much of a surprise to her as anyone else.

It ruined her life.

Everything she worked for was gone. Her position as the assistant to Ambassador Alyssa Vargas was no longer hers now that she was accused of leaking Alyssa’s schedule and nearly getting her killed.

That hurt the worst. She considered Alyssa her closest friend—or she had, up until a few weeks ago.

She kept reminding herself that at least Alyssa was safe, guarded by the SEAL team. And Kennedy?

She was just here. Waiting to be convicted of a crime she didn’t commit…or cleared of it. They were watching her—only they called it protection.

The worst part was having no contact with anyone. No one to talk to.

She looked to the far wall where her suitcase sat. Weeks ago, when she packed it for a trip from Mexico to New York City, she couldn’t have been prepared for this. The clothes she brought all coordinated, providing outfit options for meetings and events she would attend with Alyssa.

But nobody needed Chanel boots in a safe house.

She looked at her bare toes that she’d recently painted, but even the pastel pink polish couldn’t cheer her up. Not when the name of the color was Blush and Betrayal.

She hitched her knees up and rested her head on them. The team didn’t trust her. Alyssa didn’t trust her. But Kennedy hadn’t betrayed anyone.

She snorted. Try convincing the SEALs of that.

Her phone had been compromised, though she had no idea how it happened. As a result, the ambassador had been placed in danger, and they suspected Kennedy might also become a target.

Which was why she was stuck in this apartment, cut off from the world.

She curled tighter around herself. The TV murmured in the background with some late-day news rolling quietly under the clank of the heater. She wasn’t even watching, only had it on to drown out the silence.

Isolation pressed on her like a lead blanket. She wasn’t permitted to leave the safe house. Couldn’t sleep much. Didn’t eat much. She had a burner phone for emergencies only, but even picking it up made her wonder who was watching.

She did try one time to tell the guy who checked on her that she didn’t have a friend left in the world to spill secrets to, but he wouldn’t listen.

At this point, her only link to the outside world was the TV, and it was always on.

She glanced up just as the breaking news banner stretched across the screen.

Expert Witness Assassinated in NYC Courthouse Shooting—Sources Say Case Tied to International Syndicate.

Heart stopping, Kennedy straightened on the couch and reached for the remote to turn up the volume. A photo of an older man with plenty of silver in his hair and dark eyes flashed on the screen.

Breath trapped in her throat, she jumped up, her feet carrying her closer on autopilot. She blinked, then blinked again, as if her eyes were lying to her about what she was seeing.

“Oh my god. Shaw. ” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Alan Shaw, Alyssa’s mentor in the United Nations, the man they flew to New York City to meet. Then the attack ended that.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, watching the story unfold on TV. Shaw had been the expert witness in the high-profile case. But why was the media blaming the crime syndicate?

Shaw had a close connection to Alyssa. And Alyssa was a known target of the terrorist known as Cipher.

Her stomach took a nosedive.

To Kennedy, it was totally obvious this was the work of the same man who was after Alyssa. The reason she was trapped in this damn apartment.

She whirled and snatched up the phone on the coffee table. Staring at the scrolling news, she clasped the phone in trembling fingers. She didn’t even know if the text she was about to send would go through, or if Alyssa had her blocked.

She had to try.

She opened a message and entered Alyssa’s number from memory. The blinking cursor scared the shit out of her.

A dozen things rumbled through her mind. What would she even say? That she was sorry to hear about her friend Shaw? That she missed her like hell?

That she suspected Shaw’s death was far too close to the attack on Alyssa?

She won’t want to hear from you, a cruel voice in the back of her head told her.

Her fingers moved anyway.

I just saw the news. I’m so sorry to hear about Shaw. He was a good man, maybe one of the last good ones in the world.

Please look after yourself, Alyssa. Be careful. I’ve got a feeling about Shaw’s death. I’m confident it’s Cipher.

I don’t know if you’ll believe anything I have to say, but I have to say it.

I love you. I miss you.

Bye.

Before she could rethink her decision, she hit send. Then she rushed to her suitcase and tossed it on the dining table. The legs wobbled as she yanked the zipper and shoved the bag open.

She located the tote bag folded in the bottom of the luggage and began tossing things into it.

She packed light, adding only the bare basics.

It meant leaving behind the designer babies she loved—shoes and bags and a few prized pieces of jewelry, the only friends she had left in the world—but there was no way she could take them.

She even left her favorite purse, a Gucci that had survived ten countries and a broken heart.

Her mind didn’t catch up to what she was doing until she had on her long coat, boots, and the tote bag slung over her shoulder.

As she reached the door, she paused. Where was she going? She didn’t have a car. If she tried to leave the country, she was certain the SEAL team keeping watch over her would have her detained.

From outside the apartment windows came the low hum of city life. Kennedy turned her head, eyeing the window, her mind churning through plans.

Leaving meant she was in danger.

Staying meant she was in danger.

How long would it be before someone found out her location? She was a sitting duck here. Outside, there was safety in numbers. She’d go to Grand Central Station.

Kennedy moved fast, keeping her head down and letting her long hair swing forward to obscure her face.

She didn’t have any credit cards, but the team hadn’t confiscated the small stash of cash she kept hidden in the lining of her suitcase.

That was now stuffed in her bra as she rushed out of the apartment building and hit the street at a fast clip.

She took the subway downtown, thankful she had such a good memory for details like train schedules. The entire ride, her hands shook in her lap, and her shoulders ached with stress.

Shaw was dead. And there wasn’t just one attempt on Alyssa’s life, but two.

Kennedy would be next—she was sure of it. She had ties to both people. Up until a few weeks ago, no one else was closer to the ambassador.

When she exited the subway, she was swallowed in a sea of commuters and tourists, exactly what she hoped for. She got her bearings and headed to the counter with the shortest line.

She pulled out her money and slapped it on the counter. “I’d like to go as far as this will take me.”

The employee didn’t even look up at her, which she was grateful for. She just handed over a ticket for a destination that Kennedy never glanced at and told her what train to board.

Nothing mattered. Even though she could say she’d lost everything important to her, she was a survivor.

The train was boarding within minutes. She slipped into a window seat and clutched her tote bag close, watching the train fill. She felt about as safe here as she did back in the apartment, but at least she wasn’t frozen anymore.

Now she was moving forward. Wherever the train took her, Cipher would have to work a hell of a lot harder to find her.

And the only thing more dangerous than a hunted woman…

Was a woman with nothing left to lose.