Page 1 of Jason Bourne (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #7)

Jason Bourne

M y phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I wanted to smash it against the wall — especially when Linda or Brenda, whatever her name was, had her hand wrapped around my….

“Don’t answer it,” she murmured, her breath warm against my ear. “You know you don’t want to. I was about to show you something my tongue can do…”

“Sorry, sugar.” I grabbed her wrist, pushing her hand away. “Duty calls.” God, why did I drink that extra Jack Daniel's? And bring her back to my motel room?

I answered, my voice sharp. “This better be important.”

“Get outside. Now.”

“What? When do you—”

“Now. We’re waiting.”

“Fuck.”

I looked down at Linda — or was it Louise? — still pouting in my bed. “Sorry, Louise. You’ve gotta go. I have an emergency.”

“My name’s Linda, not Louise. Are you a doctor or something?”

“Something like that.”

I tossed her clothes onto the bed, yanked my jeans on, and snatched my bag off the chair. She stood there, half-naked and offended. I grabbed her shoes, shoved them into her hands, and guided her toward the door.

I caught the flash of grins through the tinted SUV windows outside. Bastards. They’d heard every word.

Linda — or Louise — pressed herself against me, kissing me like she wanted to brand me. I peeled her arms off my neck.

“I’ll call you when I get back. You can finish that tongue story,” I said, not meaning a word I said.

“Oh, you’re gonna love it. Goodbye, doctor .”

The laughter from inside the SUV was deafening. I climbed in, slammed the door, and shot Max a glare. “Alright, geniuses. What the hell was so urgent I had to ditch a very enthusiastic woman?”

Nate chuckled, handing me a folder. “Here you go, doctor .”

I flipped him off, then opened the file. One name on the first page froze the blood in my veins.

Zoe Brewer.

My pulse kicked up. “Zoe Brewer? How many Zoe Brewers are there?”

“Check the photo,” Forest said.

I looked. My chest tightened. It was her — beautiful, dangerous Zoe Brewer. Nobody should’ve been able to take her down.

“Zoe is Lane’s sister,” I said. Detective. Trained fighter. Martial arts expert. Tough as hell. How the fuck did they get her?”

Nate leaned forward. “She’d just gotten out of the hospital. Burst appendix. Lane was staying with her. Security cameras caught everything. Lane fought them like a wildcat. When Zoe tried to help, they kicked her hard. Knocked her flat. Lane ran to her, and that’s when they moved in.”

“They took both of them,” Forest added grimly.

I stared out the window, jaw clenched. Lane. My teammates knew Lane.

I turned another page and there she was — Lane Brewer. The only woman I have ever loved. The one I’d lost—the spitfire who’d never backed down from a fight.

“Do we have the video?” My voice sounded raw even to my own ears.

Forest passed me the laptop. “You’ll want to see this.”

I watched. Five men swarmed Lane. My hands curled into fists. “Kick their ass, sweetheart,” I muttered. “Shit — sorry.”

Then Thor appeared — one hundred pounds of pure German Shepherd fury, launching through the hallway like a missile. He tore out a man’s throat before a muffled pop stopped him cold. Thor crumpled. Blood everywhere.

Lane’s scream ripped through me like a bullet. She kept fighting, even when she saw Thor go down.

Zoe stumbled in, limping. She palmed one guy in the throat— he dropped like a stone. Another kicked her square in the gut, where her stitches were. She hit the floor, gasping. Lane ran to her, knowing it was over. They dragged them both away.

“God. Who the hell are these bastards?” I rasped.

Max’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “We think it’s the Chinese Communist Party. Lane’s been digging into them. They’re tightening their grip on the West Coast.”

I forced myself to breathe. “What’s Lane doing these days?”

“She’s undercover FBI,” Max said. “Deep cover. So far, her real identity’s stayed clean. Unless they already know who she is.”

“If they grabbed her, they know exactly who she is,” I said

Forest nodded grimly. “Her father didn’t mention Lane. Probably trying to keep her name out of this.”

I couldn’t look at them. All I could see was Lane — blood on her knuckles, eyes blazing, fighting like hell.

Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming. We boarded the plane and took off to San Francisco, where they had taken her.