Page 6 of My Special Ops Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #4)

T he attack came a few hours later.

Yvette jerked awake in the guest bed to the soft chime of a perimeter alert, adrenaline flooding her system. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Through the reinforced windows, she could see nothing but darkness and the faint outline of trees swaying in the wind.

The radio Vincent gave her crackled to life. "Three contacts, moving coordinated." His voice was calm. "Stay in the guest room. Lock the door."

She slipped out of bed and moved to the small monitor Vincent had installed in her room, watching the security feeds with growing dread.

These weren't the same sloppy killers from two nights ago.

These men moved with coordinated efficiency, communicating through hand signals as they approached the house from different angles.

Through the radio monitoring equipment, she heard fragments of their communications: "...minimal force authorized...need her talking, not bleeding..."

Yvette keyed her radio. "Vincent, they want me alive. This is a kidnapping attempt."

"Understood. Stay put."

She watched through multiple camera feeds as Vincent moved through his house like a predator.

The first attacker went down in the hallway, Vincent's precise shot dropping him before he could reach the staircase.

The second man lasted longer, making it to the kitchen before a flash-bang grenade left him unconscious on the floor.

The third, realizing their intelligence had been catastrophically wrong about the level of resistance, called for immediate extraction and melted back into the tree line.

"Two down, one retreating," Vincent reported. "House is secure."

When Yvette emerged from her room, her legs were unsteady from adrenaline. The house showed damage from the brief but intense firefight. Bullet holes marked the walls, a window was shattered, and furniture had been overturned in the struggle.

Vincent stood in the middle of it all, checking his weapon with casual efficiency.

"You're bleeding," she said, noticing the cut on his forearm.

"Just a graze." He secured the weapons from the unconscious attacker. "They came prepared for the wrong fight."

"Because they expected to find a scared accountant, not a fortress." She moved to him, needing to confirm he was really okay. "I was terrified something would happen to you."

His free hand covered hers. "I'm fine. But this changes our timeline. If they wanted you for interrogation, that means they're not sure what evidence you've already transmitted to the feds."

"They're fishing," she realized. "Which makes them desperate."

"And desperate people make mistakes." His thumb traced along her cheek, the gentle touch at odds with the violence that had just occurred. "You did good tonight. Staying calm, monitoring their communications."

Before she could respond, sirens began wailing in the distance. Local police, responding to reports of gunfire in what was supposed to be a quiet suburban neighborhood.

"Agent Bates should be here any minute," Vincent said, checking his phone. "I called her after we spotted that surveillance team yesterday."

As if summoned by his words, federal vehicles pulled into the driveway. Agent Kiri Bates swept into the house with her team, surveying the damage and the unconscious prisoner with sharp, assessing eyes.

"They're escalating faster than we anticipated," she said, studying the unconscious attacker.

"Because their window is closing," Yvette replied, pulling up the communications she'd intercepted on her laptop. "I've been monitoring fragments of their network since yesterday, but it's mostly encrypted. I can see movement patterns, operational timing, but not specific plans."

Agent Bates studied the partial data with growing interest. "How much can you actually access?"

"Not enough to prevent attacks, but enough to see them coming. I can track some communications, get advance warning, but their security is pretty sophisticated." Yvette highlighted the limited intelligence she'd gathered.

"The arrest warrants are taking longer than expected," Agent Bates said grimly. "RareCore's legal team is fighting everything - challenging the evidence chain, claiming corporate privilege, filing injunctions. We should have warrants by morning, but that's still hours away."

"And they know it." Vincent settled his hand on her shoulder. "That's why they're escalating. They're trying to eliminate the witness before the legal system catches up. The question is whether we extract her now or reinforce this position?"

"Extracting her could mean losing what intelligence access she does have," Agent Bates said thoughtfully. "But staying here means accepting the risk that they'll escalate beyond what we can handle."

"We stay," Yvette said firmly. "This house is defensible, and I can maintain my monitoring from here. They’re digging a big hole for themselves and I’m making sure we’ve got enough evidence to nail them on all of this. If we run, we lose any advantage we have."

Agent Bates looked between them, gauging their commitment. "Then we establish a proper defensive perimeter. My team will coordinate with local law enforcement."

As agents transformed the house around them, Vincent squeezed Yvette's shoulder gently. "Are you sure about this?"

"Hell yeah." She leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his presence. "I’m sorry your house is getting a beating."

"It’s just a house." He knelt down beside her chair and cupped her face in his hands. "You’re doing great. I know you must be freaked out but you’re holding it together and I’m so proud of you."

She liked hearing that, but before she could respond, her monitoring equipment chimed with new activity.

"They're regrouping," she announced, studying the intercepted communications. "And they're bringing in someone called 'Executive One' for the next attempt."

Vincent's expression darkened. "How long do we have?"

"Based on their coordination patterns? Tonight. Maybe tomorrow at the latest." She pulled up the intelligence she'd been gathering. "They're done with subtle approaches. The next attack will be everything they have."

"Then we'd better get ready," Agent Bates said grimly.

As the day progressed, Yvette found herself working deeper into RareCore's network, uncovering layers of corruption that made her stomach turn. Financial records, equipment specifications, casualty reports—the scope of the conspiracy was staggering.

"Vincent," she called from her workstation that afternoon. "I found something you need to see."

He appeared at her shoulder immediately, and she caught the familiar scent of his soap mixed with gun oil and sweat from coordinating the defensive preparations.

"What am I looking at?"

"Body armor contracts. Batch failures cross-referenced with deployment records." She pulled up the data, her voice tightening with anger. "They've been substituting substandard materials for years. Ceramic plates that can't stop rifle rounds, vehicle armor that might as well be cardboard."

Vincent leaned closer, studying the technical specifications. "How many people?"

"Thousands of casualties that should have been survivable." She scrolled through the data, each entry representing lives lost. "But there's a pattern. Going all the way back to Afghanistan deployments. They show the highest failure rates."

"Afghanistan?" His voice went flat.

"Helmand Province specifically. 2014." She turned to look at him, catching the change in his expression. "Vincent?"

He was staring at the screen, his jaw working. "What kind of failures?"

"Vehicle floor panels rated as hardened steel, actually made with mild steel plating. IED impacts that should have been survivable..." She trailed off, seeing the recognition in his eyes. "Oh God. You were there."

"First Reconnaissance Battalion." His voice was barely above a whisper. "March 15th, 2014. Routine patrol outside Helmand."

Yvette's fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up specific batch numbers, deployment records, casualty reports. "Vincent, I need you to tell me what happened."

"We hit an IED. Standard explosive, nothing we hadn't handled before. But the blast came up through the floor." His hands clenched into fists. "The armor plating just disintegrated. Like it was made of paper."

She found the report, her heart sinking as she read the details. "Batch 47-Alpha. Floor panels certified for blast resistance up to forty pounds of explosive."

"The IED was maybe twenty pounds. Should have been nothing." His voice cracked slightly. "But it killed four of my men."

"Camacho, Kim, Washington, and Reeves," she read from the casualty report, her voice soft.

Vincent's head snapped up. "How do you know their names?"

"Because they're right here in RareCore's internal files." She turned the screen toward him, showing him the classified report. "Along with a cost analysis showing how much money they saved using substandard materials."

He stared at the document, his face cycling through shock, grief, and finally rage. "They knew. They knew their equipment would fail and they sent it anyway."

"Twenty-three percent cost savings per unit," Yvette read, her voice hollow. "That's what your Marines' lives were worth to them."

Vincent stood abruptly, pacing to the window. "I blamed myself. For three years, I blamed myself for not seeing the IED, for not taking a different route, for not somehow protecting them."

"Vincent..."

"I left the Corps because I couldn't handle losing anyone else. Convinced myself I was a liability, that people died when I was responsible for them." He turned back to her. "But it wasn't my fault. It was corporate greed."

Yvette stood and went to him. "It was never your fault."

"Those bastards killed my team and let me think it was my failure." His arms came around her, holding her tight. "How many other soldiers are carrying that guilt? How many commanders blame themselves for equipment failures they couldn't have prevented?"