Page 7

Chase leaned forward on the edge of the sofa, forearms braced on his thighs and his boots planted wide on the dusty wooden floor.

Steel had been coiled around his spine since this whole thing began, but after visiting the military base, that tension yanked even tighter. Not even the sex was helping this stress, even if it was mind-blowing.

Alyssa perched on a wood chair. She shook her head. “Things don’t add up. Not about the crash, not about the aftermath. And definitely not about the commander.”

“Let’s go over it again,” he said almost to himself.

“Okay. Start with the crash.”

He nodded, mind far away. “I was out on medical with a broken leg. Echo had returned to Syria for an op—quick in-and-out. Only the out was much quicker than anyone expected.”

Alyssa issued a low sigh. “They boarded the helicopter.”

He nodded. “It crashed. But you said the reports don’t give a clear reason other than mechanical failure.”

“Exactly. That’s what isn’t adding up to me. These crafts have mechanics combing them over before every flight.”

“Helicopters crash all the time, Julian.” Her voice was low, soothing.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and then pushed into a straighter position. “An entire special ops team died that day.”

“Are you saying nobody thought it was important to dig further into the crash when it happened?”

“Anything involving Blackout is buried deep, and this is buried even deeper. But the commander was too damn cavalier about our request for more information.”

“I completely agree. But you of all people know how military types can be. Maybe the security detail coordinator he mentioned was there at the time of the crash will shed more light on the topic.”

“We’re going back to the base—today. And we need a plan.”

She folded her arms and gave him her best calculating, ambassador look. “A plan for what?”

“I need in the computer system.”

Her eyes flickered with caution. “You’re planning on hacking into their computers ?”

He stared at her unwaveringly for a solid heartbeat. “That’s right. And the commander can’t know. Which is where you come in.”

She pushed to her feet and began pacing the short span between the safehouse walls. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“You’re going to distract the commander.”

She stopped and faced Chase. The linen trousers she wore flowed over her curves, concealing them in a tailored menswear look. It made his hands itch to touch her, to etch the feel of her into his mind even though her shape was burned into his memory.

Whenever she was nervous, she raked her fingers through the wave of hair at her temple. The action made two thin gold bracelets on her slender wrist clink.

“Julian, there’s no way you’re getting in that system. Thorne has eyes like a hawk and a vibe that just screams ‘I know something you don’t.’”

He nodded but didn’t say a word to change his plan.

Alyssa issued a huff of air. “ Fine. How much time will you need?”

“Thirty minutes.”

She sliced a hand through the air. “That long? What am I supposed to do to distract the commander for thirty minutes?”

Chase eyed her. “Isn’t thinking on the fly part of your skillset? You’ll come up with something.”

She groaned. “Let’s get this over with.”

He watched her ass twitch as she walked into the bedroom and grabbed her phone.

“I’m ready,” she announced.

He looked her over. “No purse?”

She rolled her eyes. “My phone’s all I need. I have my digital wallet to pay for things if necessary.”

He felt his eyes hood. There was something incredibly sexy about a woman who didn’t need a caravan of goods to survive.

At the door, she caught him staring at her and stilled. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

He approached her with slow, measured steps. “What way, Alyssa?”

Her breasts rose as she filled her lungs with air. “Like you want to forget all about going to the base and spend the morning in bed.”

He reached out, stroking a fingertip down the curve of her cheek, his stare fastened on her beautiful mouth he couldn’t get enough of kissing the night before. “I do want that.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“And I think you do too. But that isn’t part of the plan…yet.” He couldn’t resist leaning in to brush his lips across hers.

Before he could steal that kiss, she ducked out of the way. “Let’s get this over with. And we need to find some coffee on the way.”

Coffee sounded good…but Alyssa wrapped around him was far better.

He forced his thoughts away from the ambassador. The woman offered too many distractions—ones he never saw coming.

But Denver had. His words of caution about not getting involved with the ambassador now sounded less like a warning and more like a prediction. Maybe he’d seen right through something Chase himself wasn’t even aware of.

He could still back off, return to his strict modus operandi and never lay a hand on her again.

I can. Doesn’t mean I will.

A different car was waiting for them to use today. She arched a brow in question, but he didn’t offer an explanation. This was how ops worked—they did whatever it took to stay on the down low.

After locating a small café off the beaten path and getting them both a caffeine fix, they rode in silence to the base. Once they parked, he reached for the door, but Alyssa stopped him with a hand on his arm.

He met her gaze.

“My plan is to ask the commander for a private tour of the base. I’ll tell him it’s for relations between the US, Syria and Mexico.”

“Solid plan. Are you ready?”

She took another fortifying sip of coffee. “As I’ll ever be.”

Due to their clearance, they entered the base with ease, moving through security without delay. Despite the plan in place, Chase’s muscles remained coiled, and his instincts hummed uneasily.

He reminded himself that he was more than capable of pulling this off—and so was Alyssa. He’d seen her in action. Read her file and knew her achievements. If anyone could tie up the commander long enough for Chase to get into the system, she could.

He didn’t trust the quiet in the base or the stares that followed them as they made their way to Commander Thorne’s office.

Inside the main building, the air-conditioning hit hard, and Alyssa’s shoulders sagged with a sigh of relief to get out of the boiling Middle Eastern heat.

A junior officer stepped out to greet them. “Commander Thorne is free to see you. This way.”

Alyssa slanted a sideways glance at Chase before entering the commander’s office. The space was neat, spartan, like the commander himself.

He was broad-shouldered with neatly trimmed gray hair and a gray mustache to match. His face was lined from hard choices and desert wind. When he shook their hands, his grip said, I’m in control here, and his smile was professional but not at all warm.

“Commander Thorne,” Alyssa breezed out with her best I call the shots smile. “How nice to see you again. Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”

“Of course. I’m happy to.” His hawk eyes shifted between her and Chase.

“Commander, we’re here for a couple reasons,” he began.

Thorne waved a hand for them to sit in the military-issue seats in front of his desk, not unlike those that Alyssa had made fun of at the Charlie base.

Chase urged her to take a seat first and then faced Thorne across the desk stacked neatly with files and paperwork. A single picture frame that probably held a photo of his wife and children sat in one corner.

“Commander Thorne, after my initial request for information on the helicopter crash, I am here to request access to records in order to compile a comprehensive review for my commanding officer.”

He eyed Chase with a quiet suspicion. “Isn’t that something you can access from anywhere? Back in the States, even?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m told that the records here are the most accurate and up-to-date. Shouldn’t take long—I just need to reference a few files and system logs.”

Thorne gave Chase an appraising look.

Seeing that the commander might deny him access, Alyssa jumped in.

“Commander Thorne, as part of my mandate to strengthen transparency and trust between our governments, I’ve been asked to conduct an independent assessment of joint readiness and logistical capabilities. A private tour would allow for more candid observations and discussions—something that’s often lost with larger delegations or scripted briefings. This visit is meant to pave the way for closer collaboration, and your cooperation would go a long way in demonstrating the openness we both value.”

Damn. He had no idea what all that meant, but she was good. Really good.

Her ability to distract might just be her biggest strength—but with Chase, it was a very different kind of distraction.

Her spiel convinced him. The man drew up straight in his seat, demeanor shifting.

“I’d be honored to give you a tour, Ambassador Vargas. Shall we begin now?”

Her smile was wide and genuine as she stood. “Thank you. Now is the perfect time.”

Thorne darted a narrow look at Chase. “I’ll have my junior officer set you up with those records.”

“Appreciate it, Commander.”

He gave him another look as if calculating the truth of Chase’s claim, but he was able to return his stare without a hint of artifice since he had every intention of going through the records.

He just planned on a deeper dive.

On her way to the door, Alyssa raised her brows at him. He simply lifted a hand in response. “See you soon.”

She dipped her head in a nod and was gone.

Within minutes, Chase was set up in a small, airless and dusty room containing filing cabinets and boxes of old hand-written records. As soon as the junior officer left him alone, Chase slipped out. He pressed the comm device in his ear that linked him to his teammate, Dante.

He kept his voice to a low murmur. “Headed to the database. You have the passcode for the door?”

“You know I got you. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Chase slipped through the hallways, moving like a ghost. His steps made little sound, and he encountered no one. When he stood in front of a closed metal door with a keypad, the same one Dante told him would be there, he said, “I’m ready.”

Dante rattled off a series of numbers in his ear, and he punched them in with precision. The lock clicked, and he quickly darted into the space.

Several computers lined one wall, the setup similar to most military bases Chase had seen. The computer monitors glowed with static light. Quickly, he moved to the first one.

“All right. I’m at terminal one.”

“Good. Let’s open the portal.” Dante’s voice crackled. “Use this code. Nine seven delta echo forty-five alpha niner. Punch that in and hold for five seconds.”

Julian entered the code. A new window blinked to life. “It worked. You’re up.”

“Cool. I’m in,” Dante replied. “Gimme a sec…”

Chase hovered, muscles tense, scanning the terminals while Dante worked in the back channels of the network. The first computer came up clean. Nothing suspicious.

“Next,” Dante prompted.

Chase glanced at his watch. Dante was working fast—but would it be fast enough?

“What exactly are we looking for?” he asked Dante.

“I’m searching for a file that was opened the day of the chopper crash.”

Long seconds ticked by. Though there was no sound other than the electronic hum of the computers, Chase swore he could hear the minutes counting down.

The second terminal? Also a dead end.

“Goddamn it,” Chase muttered, running a hand over his jaw. They didn’t have time to waste on wild goose chases.

“Third one’s our last shot,” Dante warned.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they came up emptyhanded. He would need to form a new plan, but he was certain the answers were here at this base.

There was no indication on the screen that Dante was going through the system.

The monitor flickered…and then blurred with activity.

“Bingo,” Dante whispered. “This one’s loaded.”

Chase watched streams of data scroll by. Lines of code, logs, system diagnostics. He barely understood half of it.

“What are we looking at?”

“There were two other times this portal was opened.” Dante’s words were tight. “The first was a small test—minimal access, just enough to verify the connection.”

“And the second?”

“Day of the crash.” His tone was grim. “Right when Echo team’s chopper went dark.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m looking at the timestamps. There was a code that scrambled the bird’s flight system. That’s what caused the failure.”

His fists curled on the desk. His knuckles went white.

“You’re saying... a fucking computer…took down the chopper?”

“That’s what I’m saying, man. Somebody was definitely behind it,” Dante said.

Rage twisted in Julian’s gut. He closed his eyes, jaw tight. He wasn’t there, but countless times, he had imagined the sound of screeching metal, fire licking up the tail, the smell of fuel.

Goddammit, he lived with it every fucking day since.

“Everyone blamed the pilot,” he growled. “I knew better. I flew with Sanchez on several missions. He was one of the best. And Echo wasn’t involved in an air fight. No external pressure. That bird just dropped out of the sky like a goddamn rock.”

His eyes were pinched shut tight, and his hands clamped into fists. Slowly, he opened his eyes and unfurled his fingers.

“You were right, Cobra. This was sabotage.”

Rage blazed along the grief that had been pooling inside him for years since that terrible day when he lost his team.

He breathed hard through his nose. “Can we trace it?”

“I’m searching.”

Too many painful seconds ticked by. If someone discovered him in this room, he couldn’t be accountable for his actions. He would do anything to complete this search and gain that evidence he needed to prove he was right.

Had always been right.

The knowledge didn’t make him feel better. Setting his mouth in a grim line, he waited for Dante to find that evidence.

Seconds later, Dante made a low noise.

“Hold up. I said there was a test portal opened first. There’s an IP address in the logs pointing to that. But it’s routed through a VPN.”

“Can we track it?”

“It was so long ago. Things like this go through multiple VPNs. Layered as hell.” More silence. Then, “Fuck. Just as I thought. Dead end on the actual location of the IP address.”

“But we’ve got proof someone tampered with the chopper’s systems.” His voice was a low rasp, hot with anger.

“Yes. I can take it from here. Leave the portal open. I’ll keep scanning the system.”

There weren’t words to express how grateful he was that Dante’s skills had uncovered exactly what they needed. In minutes he’d found what others claimed they couldn’t find in years.

“Don’t you have to head off the commander?” Dante asked.

“Copy that.”

“And Cobra—Con asked me to pass something on.”

He stilled, muscles drawing tight.

“He wants you to remember your deal to question the ambassador. Make damn sure she’s not behind the leak.”

Fuck.

A hot coal of dread crashed into his chest.

“Her calendar was somehow accessed or leaked. That became the enemy’s playbook for predicting her movements and somehow tied her to you too,” Dante went on.

Chase’s gut told him she wasn’t involved. His instincts were never wrong. If he’d believed she was dirty, he never would have allowed things to go so far between them. Hell, he shouldn’t have anyway, but it was far too late to take back the moments they shared.

That didn’t change the fact Blackout still had reason to suspect her involvement. And he had orders.

“Copy.” The mutter was gravel and fire searing through his throat.

“Before you go, Cobra. Any chance you can get into the commander’s office?”

Chase may not know what the hell was happening in his personal life or whether or not to suspect Alyssa, but blending into the walls, he knew.

He opened the door, scanned the hallway, then slipped out. Blanking his mind to anything but the mission, he retraced his steps.

The commander’s wing was in the secure part of the compound. Offices with glass windows, personnel shuffling between desks. Chase walked like he belonged—fast enough not to raise suspicion, casual enough not to draw attention.

He spotted the office. The door was ajar.

A woman stepped out—civilian, admin staff. Blonde, with bright blue eyes and a pretty, unassuming smile. He caught her gaze and winked.

She blushed. Smiled. Walked away.

The junior officer was nowhere to be seen.

Chase slipped inside.

“Okay, I’m in,” he whispered.

“You need access to his terminal,” Dante said. “I’ll walk you through the hack. Same entry code, different authentication layer.”

He hurried to the desk, heart thumping, sweat gathering at the base of his neck. He scrubbed a hand over his face, pushing back the nerves.

He couldn’t afford a single misstep.

“All right. Talk me through it.”

Dante guided him. Chase input the code, waited for the portal to open, then stepped back as lines of text unfurled across the screen.

“Good, Cobra. I’m in. I only need a minute.”

Chase stood guard by the door, peeking out at the hallway through the sliver of space between the frame and the glass. Every second stretched like an endless length of elastic.

A glance at his watch revealed that the timer wasn’t just counting down—it had run out. His thirty minutes was up.

But that was fine.

He’d been dancing with danger his entire life.

* * * * *

Alyssa deliberately slowed her pace as she chatted with the commander. She needed all the time she could buy for Julian.

Was the man some kind of professional hacker too? Thirty minutes to search the base’s system seemed superhuman to her. She had to draw out this tour with Commander Thorne. Every precious second she could buy would only help Julian and his team. And her too. She was still reeling from that kidnapping attempt back in New York.

She kept her expression neutral and relaxed, but her heart ticked like a metronome. Whenever Thorne stopped talking, she offered him an encouraging smile to make him start again. Every minute she held the commander’s attention was another minute Julian had to dig.

So far, they’d touched on the topics that convinced him to give this tour in the first place. A few she had made up on the fly, but they covered everything far too quickly. She needed more material, more to keep the man talking—and away from Julian for as long as possible.

The training facility they were standing in offered plenty of opportunities for discussion, and Alyssa seized on every single one. From the types of training that took place here to the demographics of the men who attended, if there was something to talk about, Alyssa did.

She scanned the expansive space with thick ropes attached to the ceiling, gym equipment and even padded mats lined up against one wall for hand-to-hand combat training. “How many people are stationed here these days?”

He glanced at her, voice clear and low. “These days? Around sixty-five, give or take. A few cycle in or out for training or missions.”

Was it her imagination or did his tone sharpen on the last word?

She had to keep him talking. Distraction was the name of the game in everything she did, from negotiating with a terrorist to keeping a commander occupied.

“Was the roll call always this light?” she asked.

“No. Years ago we had over two hundred boots on the ground. A full operation.”

“Interesting.”

“Now troubles seemed to have shifted from this area. They take place in other parts of the world, and bases like this aren’t heavily manned.”

“Absolutely understandable.”

She kept pace beside him, noting his body language after that exchange. Relaxed. At ease. He wasn’t being evasive. If anything, he seemed open.

She needed to keep him that way. And a little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

“It seems like a lot to be in charge of.” She gave him a warm smile, hoping he didn’t notice the perspiration breaking out on her brow. Damn her stress sweat. When she got back to the States, she was going to find a pill for that. Or a shot.

“It must be a big weight to carry,” she poured it on.

He gave her a smile. “It is. But it’s the job.” His pride was taking the bait.

To her distress, they exited the training room, which led them outside, the mid-morning heat like a furnace blast. When they entered the cool building again, her jitters increased.

They started down a long hallway. According to what she learned on the tour, they would pass the room where Julian should be digging through dusty files. Only she knew he wasn’t there.

Her heart picked up an extra beat.

She and Thorne strolled past a row of open office doors. The men working at their desks saw Thorne and saluted. He gave them nods in return as he passed, his pace far too quick in what must be an eagerness to end their tour and get back to his own office.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem as talkative.

More frightening was the fact that they were quickly approaching the place where Julian was supposed to be. They were mere steps away from the room housing the files.

“Rourke and his team are in charge of writing up orders,” Thorne was saying with a wave at one office. He pointed to another cramped space. “Frankel’s team is in charge of supplies.”

Alyssa dragged her feet even more. “And you said you have a team of computer experts. How many people make up that team?”

“Four or five depending on the year.”

“I see.”

They passed an exit with a glass window that looked out onto the endless sand-hued landscape. Only a helipad was in view, a single chopper resting on it, silent and still.

She paused to look out, hoping she appeared interested. “Odd how that helicopter crashed shortly after taking off. It’s such a safe area. Do you see many crashes?” She swung toward him, using her body language to encourage him to keep talking. Arms loose at her sides, shoulders aligned with his.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “That crash was unusual. I’ve only seen that one in all my years of being stationed here. The chance of a chopper going down is never zero, but they’re very safe.”

She pointed at a building. “Is that where the helicopters are serviced?”

“Yes. Since there isn’t much demand, we only have a skeleton crew of mechanics at this time.”

“Very economical,” she praised him even as the next question poised on her lips. “And was that particular helicopter inspected on the day of the crash?”

“Of course it was.”

“You said that only you and a security detail coordinator from that time period are still on base. Would there be logs for me to look at with the names of the mechanics and the number of years they had in that line of service?”

He bristled. “If you’re suggesting that the personnel weren’t skilled or experienced, you’re mistaken. They were all properly trained, and there was nothing faulty about that helicopter when it launched.”

Yet the reports said it was a mechanical failure. Things just weren’t adding up.

Thorne’s agitation was clear. She stared at the helipad but glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me. And the pilots? Are they assigned specific birds?”

“No. They get the craft they’re assigned to for that flight. But that platoon had their own pilot so they could deploy faster.”

Her lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe as they turned away from the glass and moved on. With each step they took toward that room filled with files—the room where Julian was supposed to be—Alyssa’s concern compounded.

She cast around for some way to distract Thorne but nothing came to mind. As soon as she cleared the doorframe, she automatically swung her head to look inside.

And her heart clenched. Julian wasn’t there.

Panic clutched at her. She racked her brain for a way to turn the commander’s attention in another direction.

Before he could take the long stride that would bring him to the doorway, she tripped into his path.

“Oh!” She grabbed his arm to steady herself.

“Ambassador Vargas, are you all right?” He steadied her, fingers closing firmly on her upper arms and his eyes warming in a way that made her hate her damsel in distress act even more.

“I’m so sorry, Commander. I guess I’m not used to the terrain yet.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I must only be used to marble embassy floors.”

They shared a laugh.

Thorne turned to enter the room. At that very moment, Julian shot out of another hallway and fell into step beside Thorne.

He didn’t meet her eyes, but she was trained to spot small tells.

And judging from the grim set of Julian’s jaw, whatever he found was worth the close call.