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C hase leaned forward, forearms braced on the edge of the conference table as Con paced at the front of the room. Uneasiness pulsed in the air like a ticking explosive.

“Here’s what we know.” Con pivoted to face the team scattered around the table. “Ambassador Vargas and her assistant Kennedy Bloom arrived in New York. Denver and Cobra picked them up with orders to escort them to the UN. They made a stop at the hotel to check in. When they exited the hotel, men wearing masks and black clothing attempted a kidnapping.”

The report barely scratched the surface of what really went down—just a cold summary stripped of adrenaline and fury. Emotion was absent in everything they did. Chase and Denver had neutralized the threat with surgical precision, their movements as sharp and practiced as ever.

But inside, Chase’s pulse still hadn’t slowed. The second the van rolled in and masked men jumped out, his blood had gone ice-cold. The takedown might’ve been easy, but the aftershocks still roared through his system.

His ribs protested with a breath caught somewhere between instinct and fury. It had been too damn close. And that kind of close didn’t come with a warning—it came with a target.

Con continued, “There’s no chance that their schedule was leaked to the public. It was locked down tighter than a vault. It had the highest security. Even General Hemmings didn’t know her destination, not even after two secure calls with the ambassador.”

Denver planted his elbows on the table with a thump . “Someone hacked Vargas’s schedule.”

Chase’s jaw creaked from clenching it so tight. “Nothing is an accident.”

“That’s right, Cobra,” Con said, using his nickname that had followed him from the Echo team. A buddy gave it to him after a small skirmish on the border in the Ukraine—said Chase struck as fast and lethal as a cobra. Since the teams all crossed paths on occasion, working together on various ops, Charlie team knew him by the nickname before he joined with them. The name stuck.

He felt the energy shift in the room—controlled, but barely.

Con swiped his gaze over the group. “The op is simple. We need boots on the ground in Syria.”

Denver asked the question everyone had on their minds. “Why Syria?”

Con widened his stance, arms folded. “Our belief is that Cypher is behind the bombing of the ICE facility, which creates a link between him and Echo team.”

Christ.

Con continued, “If that’s the case, Chase is in his sights. After the hotel attack, there’s cause to believe Vargas is on that list too. The only time Echo and Alyssa Vargas crossed paths was in Syria—back when she negotiated the release of hostages, including a high-profile journalist. Echo was sent to secure the area.”

Syria. Of course. The one spot on the map where he and Alyssa had crossed paths in their careers. It all sounded simple when Chase heard it explained. But in his own head it was a mangled mess of steel and destruction.

Con focused on Chase. “A military transport leaves in three hours. Cobra, you and the ambassador will be on it.”

The sharp edge of the table dug into Chase’s forearms where he pressed them harder than intended. “Why not Denver?”

“With the situation, we can’t afford to be down more than a man at a time.”

Why did he get the feeling he was being sent away like a problem child?

“Look, Cobra, you’re going to get the information we need about this case. And talking to people is Vargas’s strength.”

“Why don’t we just place her in a safehouse, under protection?”

Con leveled him in his stare. “Because she’s an asset. She speaks the language, knows the customs and is an expert at getting people to do what she wants. We also want you to get in her head. Question her about her involvement in that leak.”

Denver’s chair groaned as he moved around, unsettled.

Con shifted his focus to him. “You have something to contribute?”

“For the record, I don’t think Chase should be going anywhere with the ambassador.”

“Since when do you care who I travel with?” Chase kept his voice even.

“Since Cypher tried to grab her in broad daylight outside a hotel. We don’t know if she’s a target or a threat.”

The words landed like a weight in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore.

Con cleared his throat. “We’re treating her as an unknown variable. Not guilty. Not innocent. Which means extreme caution. Chase, your orders are to watch her. Guard her. And if you have to choose between your safety and hers…”

Chase nodded grimly. “I keep us both alive.” He eyed his leader. “Are you sure us traveling together is a good cover? Look what happened when you ‘honeymooned’ in Turkey.”

A couple grunts of amusement circled the table at what happened between their leader and the cryptologist he was working with. Falling in love—despite Blackout’s no-attachments requirement—wasn’t just a risk. It was a seismic event. Every party involved could feel the quake.

Con’s stony features didn’t crack as he swept a glare around the group.

Chase pushed out a breath through his nose. He had orders. And he had to suspect Alyssa Vargas until he didn’t.

He twisted to look at Dante, their expert hacker. “What’s the status on the women’s phones?”

“I need two more hours, tops.” He darted a quick glance at their leader as if eager to be released from this meeting so he could get back to work.

Denver grunted. “Should only take you an hour at most.”

Everyone knew Denver taught Dante everything he knew and ribbed him about how slow he was every chance he got, even though Dante was at the top of his game.

Dante swung toward him. “You care to do it?”

Denver held up both hands. “I’m too busy looking out for Cobra here. Once again, for the record, I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to go alone with the ambassador.”

“The decision’s made. The order is given.” Con’s bark brooked no arguments. “Dismissed.”

Chase pushed away from the table and his long strides carried him swiftly to the door.

“Wait up, Cobra.” Denver caught up with him in a few steps.

He slowed his pace but made sure they cleared the door and were out of earshot of the rest of the team before he spoke. “You gonna bust my balls again about some alleged crush I have on the ambassador?”

“You think you can protect her and watch her at the same time?” They matched their pace as they navigated the corridor.

“You think you’re the only one capable of doing both?”

“Well, yeah.” He cracked a rarely seen crooked smile. “I’m just that much better.”

He snorted. “Asshole.”

“In all seriousness, man. Don’t forget why you’re there. She may be your asset…but she’s not your future.”

Chase stopped walking to stare at his teammate. “What’s with the caution against something that’s never going to happen? Even if I did have any interest in the woman, she’s a diplomat. I’m a ghost. There’s no future in it even if I wanted one. Which I don’t,” he added firmly.

“That’s what I needed to hear. Because there is no future when it comes to relationships.”

He narrowed his eyes at Denver. “What’s with the ominous advice? Do you have something you want to share? Con and Chickie both broke Blackout rules and they’re still happy. You got someone on the side?”

“Nope. No one in my life. Just remember our odds on the battlefield are high…but not in the real world.” Denver’s gray eyes were a piercing echo of the truth they all knew.

The weight of Chase’s orders to go to Syria with the ambassador was greater than any combat gear. He wasn’t just walking into an unfriendly land with questions nobody would like answering. He was walking in beside a woman he couldn’t afford to trust—or stop thinking about.

The clock was ticking. Every second got them one step closer to Cypher.

Or carried them deeper into his trap.

* * * * *

A smoky, gritty voice tugged Alyssa from a light, restless sleep. The unfamiliar shape of the mattress beneath her confused her as much as the beige walls of the room. She blinked, momentarily disoriented.

Then everything rushed back in. The long international flight. The ride through the sleepy streets of Syria. The safehouse.

“Wach auf, schlafende Schonheit.”

The words were soft but unmistakably German, spoken in the now-familiar voice of Special Operative Julian Chase.

She rolled to her side, shoving her hair out of her face, mumbling a reply in German. I’m awake, but I haven’t seen coffee. That’s a problem.

“Of course that’s one of your seven languages. I’m not surprised.”

Her gaze landed on him standing by the window, the bright Middle Eastern sun transforming his dark beard to sparkling diamonds.

She sat up and stretched, eyeing him with suspicion. “Where did you study?”

He faced her fully, his stare traveling over her rumpled appearance. The clothes she’d worn on the flight and also slept in, her hair that must look like a rat made a nest out of it.

“Nowhere. My father was stationed at Ramstein Air Force Base. I was a base brat. Picked up German running around with other military kids and getting in trouble. Learned more than I ever would have in a classroom.”

Alyssa studied him, examining the layers beneath his hardened exterior and sharp jawline. “So you’re not just a pretty face.”

He arched a brow. “I could say the same thing about you.”

She slipped her fingers through her messy hair. “Coffee?”

“We have to go out for supplies. Get dressed.”

“Give me ten minutes.” She waited for him to leave the single bedroom in the safehouse. When they arrived earlier in the day, they both took one look at the accommodations and Chase announced that he would take the couch, which she was relieved about even as she suffered guilt over him sleeping on what was in essence a glorified wooden pallet with a thin cushion tossed over the boards.

As she moved to the primitive bathroom and made do with a trickle of lukewarm water to wash herself, she combed over the plan of action.

She couldn’t have been more shocked to receive the command handed down from the secretary of state that Con’s request for her to join Chase in Syria was a go. Before boarding the military transport, she grilled him about the assignment and was given no more than a tightening of lips in response.

Two more times she asked him the same questions, demanding answers, and only after they arrived at the safehouse—and he performed a sweep of the place for any listening devices—did he respond.

She may not be the only target, and they were here to find some answers.

Ten minutes later they were winding through the crowded streets of Syria in an old car.

“This car seems like it’s going to strand us along the road,” she said, gripping the side of the seat.

“We only have it for one day, then we’re on our own.”

“That seems odd.”

He grunted but said nothing. The drive was tense. Plumes of dust kicked up from the tires and blurred the vehicles behind them. Though she didn’t know the area well, the style of the buildings they passed were just as she remembered from the last time she was here—sand-colored, their windows shuttered.

Chase swung his head left and right, focused on checking mirrors and scanning every alleyway, the muscles of his forearms bound up tight.

“You told me that we could both be targets of that attack. But I’m going to need a little more information here.”

“Fine. We have two missions to complete.”

She studied his profile and the set of his angular jaw. “I’m listening.”

“We’re here to revisit two incidents. One: the downed helicopter carrying a SEAL team. A Blackout team.”

“Explain Blackout.”

“Ghost ops. We’re deep black ops, so deep that none of us can be found. Echo team was part of Blackout, but almost every man on the team was wiped out in that crash.”

“Explain almost every man.”

He looked like he was one twitch away from detonating. His jaw flexed. The ropes of muscle on his forearms clenched as he gripped the wheel tighter.

“Two survived. I was one of them. But I’m the only one left standing.”

God. She didn’t work closely with the military, but she knew they were close-knit. They banded together to form a new family, an impenetrable brotherhood. And Chase had lost all of his brothers, every last one.

“I’m sorry.”

He only blinked once in acknowledgement. Then he continued where he left off before she interrupted. “Our second focus of this mission: the Red Cross facility that was bombed.”

Surprise slithered through her un-caffeinated brain. “I wasn’t involved in either event. I’ve only been to Syria a couple times. The last when I was negotiating a hostage exchange.”

It hadn’t been easy on her either. Hostages were never given good treatment, which was difficult enough to see. But women in those situations were treated like sub-humans, and a female investigative journalist was in danger of being executed with only hours left on the clock. Despite her victory, the event continued to haunt Alyssa for years.

She smoothed her damp palms over the thighs of her linen trousers. “Tell me more about the Red Cross bombing.”

He took a right turn, pausing to let a donkey laden with water jugs cross the street with its owner.

“The Red Cross was set up on the border of the shopping district. They were there to hand out supplies and administer simple medical care.”

“The organization was targeted? I thought the Red Cross was supposed to be a universal hands-off—neutral, peaceful.”

He gave her a brief nod. “The bombing took place the very same day you freed those hostages. My team was called out to both places, and Echo was spread too thin.”

She fixed her wide eyes on him, waiting for him to say more.

His throat worked around a jagged swallow. “We were informed of the bomb threat at the Red Cross, but we were ordered to secure the area with the hostages…and protect you.”

She sucked in a heated breath. People had died because she required protection?

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying. “My god…”

He whipped his head to pierce her in his gaze. Those dark brown eyes didn’t look as cold as they did before. “It wasn’t your fault, Alyssa. There are threats every day. Many a day. Most never take place.”

His use of her name chiseled away a little of her armor, and what he said pierced her. Her throat thickened. “But this one did.”

“I know survivor’s guilt. I deal with it every damn day. But this isn’t your fault.”

They fell silent as he drove the last leg of their journey. When they ended up at the US military base, she still hadn’t recovered from what he told her. She curled her trembling fingers into fists and tried to make sense of the senseless of it all.

Five minutes later they were standing in front of the base commander. The man was a military lifer—tall, rigid, with an unwavering stoicism. He gave Chase a nod in greeting but only skimmed over Alyssa.

He waved a hand for them to sit. Chase offered her the chair first, and she sank to it with her guard way up. She didn’t like any of this, least of all being so easily dismissed by the commander.

She reminded herself she could talk a man down from a ledge—she could sweeten up a misogynistic man too.

Once she and Chase were seated, Commander Thorne appraised them both. “I was informed by Commander Barrett that you have some questions about certain matters that took place on this base.”

“That’s right.” Chase shot Alyssa a sideways glance before launching right into the first order of business.

The commander listened attentively to what Chase had to say. When he finished, Thorne sat back, fiddling with a pen on his desk. “The crash took place…what? Two years ago?”

One year after the bombing, after she freed the hostages.

“Yes.” Chase’s voice was a rough rasp.

“Accidents happen. They aren’t all grand conspiracies. Sometimes they’re just…chaos.”

The tendon in Chase’s jaw ticked. “That crash killed fourteen men.”

Dropping the pen he was toying with, Thorne sat back. “And that was a damn tragedy.”

The dismissive way he stated the facts made Chase tense even more.

“Are there any people on base who were here at the time of the crash? Anyone who might remember something useful?”

“Just me. Me and my righthand man. Security Detail Coordinator, Lieutenant Rezvan.”

“We’d like to speak with him.”

The commander ducked his head in a nod. “He’s off base for the day on an errand. I’ll arrange for you to meet here as soon as possible.”

Chase didn’t wait to hear more from the commander—he pushed to his feet, and Alyssa shot up too. Finally she and Chase had something in common—the urge to get out of here.

They rode in silence back to the safehouse. When they arrived, it was just as sparse as she remembered when she arrived in an exhausted delirium.

One room. One narrow bed. And a whole lot of worry.

She stared at the torture contraption Chase had slept on the previous night. Suddenly, all of her energy fled. He moved through the few rooms like he had upon their first arrival when he did a sweep of the place for bugs.

“We never got that coffee,” she said.

“Damn.” He turned toward her. “We could both use more than coffee. We haven’t eaten in hours. How about we walk to one of the local bistros? Someone is coming for the car soon anyway.”

She shot a look past him to the couch, then to the lone bed. Not being stuck in the small house with a man who didn’t like her very much sounded like the best idea she’d heard in two days.

She moved to the door and reached for the door handle.

He put a hand on her arm. “Let me take the lead.”

Up close, she saw his eyes weren’t just brown but speckled with a dark coffee color and shards of flint. She searched his eyes for a solemn heartbeat and finally nodded.

As he stepped forward to open the door, his fingers met hers—just a glancing touch but enough to send a flicker of heat up her arm.

Neither of them said it, but the truth hung heavy between them.

This mission could change everything—and maybe not only the world they were trying to change.