Page 7 of Stealthy Seduction (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #5)

S teele was staring down at the phone in his hand when he walked into the war room for the afternoon briefing. Instead of the usual banter between his teammates, he was met with silence.

He glanced up, surprised to find he was the first to arrive which was even better news. He wouldn’t be stuck with his back to the door.

The text he sent had his lips twitching and heat sweeping his veins.

Morning, Cruz. I’ve been thinking about your poker face…among other things.

Izzy’s response came immediately. And here I thought you were into my technique…at cards.

His lips quirked higher as he thumbed a reply. Your game was…memorable. Though I had you figured out by the end of the night.

You think you know my tells? That’s adorable. Maybe you should focus less on reading me and more on your own hand management.

He stopped a snort before it burst out, and good thing too. At that moment, three of his teammates sauntered in.

Quickly, he shifted the phone to his lap, out of view, and texted Izzy back. Oh, I manage just fine. Question is whether you can handle another round when the stakes get higher.

Bring your A-game, SEAL. I promise to go easy on you…at first.

“Here’s our buddy Steele with that goofy look on his face again.” Mason attempted to drawl in Steele’s own twang and completely missed the mark. Mason ducked his head, stealing a peek at the phone he had concealed under the table. “And big surprise, guys—he’s texting.”

“Bro.” Dante dropped into his usual seat near the head of the table and automatically drew the laptop toward him. “I’ve never seen Steele so glued to his phone.”

Con entered and circled to the head of the table. “I caught Steele walking around the kitchen wearing that goofy smile too. I called out to him and couldn’t get his attention.”

Steele placed the device face-down on his thigh and scanned the group. “At least I’m here on time. Where’s the rest of Charlie?”

Mason looked over at Dante. “Now he’s deflecting. Con, are you going to do anything about this?” He jerked a thumb in Steele’s direction.

Con grunted and settled with his own laptop and the reports he’d share as soon as they were all present. “It’s no big deal. Just national security and lives at stake.”

Mason and Dante shared a chuckle, and Steele forced himself not to react. He wasn’t about to discuss Izzy with any of his brothers. Hell, he hardly understood himself why he felt the urge to check on her.

He loved each brother on the team, but living on top of each other didn’t mean he had to share everything with them. Plenty of them kept their personal lives separate, Con and Dante included.

Chickie and Chase entered, talking between themselves, and took their usual seats. Within a minute, the whole crew was there, Sinner coming in last. He groaned at being stuck with his back to the door but rested his arms on the table with a resigned sigh.

Con quickly got down to business, beginning with current events. There was a small skirmish in South America between one of the Blackout teams and some renegades, but nothing pointed to Cipher.

Steele’s phone vibrated against his thigh. Though he was quick to silence it, Dante looked up at him.

Unruffled, Steele met his gaze with a steady one of his own before turning his attention to the monitors playing news reels on the wall behind their leader.

But Izzy’s text was tempting as hell. He rested a hand over his phone but would have to wait to read her message.

“Ahh,” Dante broke in suddenly.

“You have something to share?” Con asked.

“I see what has that smile pasted on Steele’s face.”

He jerked his attention to Dante.

“Looking at the phone logs, I can report ninety-four text messages between Steele and Izzy Cruz since 1800 hours.”

Con eyed Steele.

“I’m just giving her moral support.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sure.”

“Izzy is fine as hell. But I’m sure the man who took her home noticed how attractive she is,” Mason said.

The muscles along Steele’s spine stiffened, and he shot Mason a flat look that was almost a glare.

“She’s getting back into the game. Journalism. And she’s a little nervous,” he clarified, though he had no obligation to explain his actions to anyone.

Every man in the group sobered at his announcement. They might be dickheads, but they were protectors first. Luckily, the teasing ended. For the moment.

They all turned their attention to the monitors. The sound was off, but images of bombed-out buildings and mangled, blackened cars flashed on the screen.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman appeared on the feed, and Steele’s entire body went rigid.

Izzy.

She stood outside what looked like a medical facility, microphone in hand, her warm brown hair pulled back in a professional bun.

Even through the silent screen, he could see the composure she wore like armor, the way she held herself with that particular brand of confidence that came from years of facing cameras.

But Steele knew her tells. The almost imperceptible flattening at the corners of her eyes. The way her left hand moved slightly toward the necklace at her throat before she caught herself and let it fall back to her side.

He’d bet anything that her thumb was tucked inside her fist.

“Stop!” His sharp tone cut through whatever Con was saying. “Pause that. Rewind it.”

Con looked over his shoulder at the screen, then back at Steele with raised eyebrows. “Looks like Izzy’s first story broke.”

“Turn the sound on.” Steele leaned forward until he was clinging to the edge of his chair.

Dante’s fingers flew over his keyboard, rewinding the news feed and cranking up the volume. Izzy’s voice filled the room, professional and smooth.

“—generous donation has allowed Dr. Samuel Webb to expand his services to the city’s most vulnerable populations. The anonymous benefactor, working through Hartwell and Associates, has provided funding that will keep the clinic operational for the next five years.”

The camera panned to show the new medical facility behind her, then cut back to Izzy’s composed face.

“This is Callie Northwood, Channel 7 News.”

The feed moved on to the next story, but Steele’s blood had turned to ice water in his veins.

Anonymous donor. Hartwell and Associates. The same nervous tells he’d watched her try to hide.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“What?” Chase leaned forward, eyes alight. “Steele, what is it?”

Steele’s mind was racing, connecting dots he wished he couldn’t see. “She told me she was working on a fluff piece about a charity. Said it was nothing important, just getting back into the swing of things.”

The room went deadly quiet.

“But she reached out to Alyssa yesterday,” Steele continued, his voice getting harder with each word. “She said she needed girl time. I think she reached out because she’s scared.”

Con’s expression shifted from casual interest to full alert. “Dante, find out everything you can on that doctor.”

His teammate’s fingers moved over the keys. The room throbbed with thick anticipation. Steele flipped over the phone and read Izzy’s last text, simple banter that didn’t point to her discomposure about doing the piece on the charity.

“Something’s off,” he muttered almost to himself.

Dante nodded. “Steele’s right.”

He felt the air sucked out of the room. Out of him.

Dante put up an image of Dr. Samuel Webb, the doctor Izzy interviewed about the charity.

“He was in Syria.”

Steele clenched a fist on the table, wishing he could yank every word out of Dante at once.

“He was first on the scene after the Red Cross bombing. You aren’t gonna believe this. He personally attempted to resuscitate Miriam Sheen.”

“Cipher.” The hot whisper scalded Steele’s tongue. “Izzy was one of the hostages. One of the reasons his mother wasn’t saved.”

“Call her,” Con ordered him, but he already had his phone to his ear. The phone rang once, twice—

“Hey,” Izzy’s voice came through, slightly breathless as if she was walking fast or climbing flights of stairs. “What’s up?”

“Tell me you dropped this story,” Steele said without preamble.

There was a pause. “What story?”

“The charity piece. The anonymous donor. Tell me you’re not pursuing it further. Tell me you walked away from it.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Hudson, what are you talking about? It’s just a fluff piece about a medical clinic and some donor with deep pockets. No big deal.”

“Izzy—”

“Look, I’ve got to go. I’m about to head into a meeting and drinks.”

“Wait, Izzy. What restaurant?”

“Two to Tango.”

The line went dead.

Steele stared at his phone, frustration and fear warring in his chest. Around the table, his teammates were watching him with the kind of focused attention that meant they’d all reached the same conclusion he had.

“Well, fuck,” Mason said quietly.

Con was already moving, his commands cutting through the tension. “Dante, I need everything you can find on Hartwell and Associates. Financial records, client lists, companies they work with—everything.”

“On it.” Dante’s fingers were already flying over his keyboard.

Con barked out more orders. “Chase, you and Chickie get to that restaurant. Find out everything you can about this meeting she’s walking into.”

“Copy that.”

Con turned to Sinner and Mason. “You two hit the medical center. I want to see those financial records, track where that money’s really coming from. Cipher’s money goes to killing everyone associated with his mother’s death. If he’s the anonymous donor, we need to know his motive.”

“What about me?” Steele was already standing, adrenaline coursing through his system so hard he felt his temples pounding. “I should be the one going to the restaurant. I should be guarding Izzy.” His voice grated on the words.

Con fixed him with a steady look. “You’re staying here with Dante.”

“Like hell I am.” He rooted his feet in place, forcing himself not to advance toward his leader.