“It’s so off the books and covert, it doesn’t have a name,” Knight told him.

Matteo’s gut twisted tight. Son-of-a-bitch. He set his mug down on the counter hard. “Sounds like she’s expendable.”

“With both her parents gone, and no family to question her whereabouts…she’s the perfect recruit. They all are, in that unit.”

“Fuck.” He ground his teeth and drew in a slow, steady breath.

It was his fault. He’d put her in this predicament. If only he hadn’t shut her out. Left her behind. He should’ve faced his father and confessed his feelings for her. Christ, for all he knew, his dad might’ve been okay with it. Then Bella might not have joined the military at all. Never would’ve set out on the path that led to her doing a job where the outcome mattered more than the agent.

But would she have been cut out to be the wife of a SEAL? To sit at home while he took off without notice to places he couldn’t disclose, and missions he couldn’t discuss?

As much as Matteo knew she’d cared about him, he also knew that answer was no. She was too vivacious, too adventurous to sit idly by. It would’ve ended with her leaving him—tired and resentful—to go off and see the world. Alone.

“Yeah.” Knight nodded, lifted his mug in a mock toast. “Now you see why I’m trying to recruit her.”

Matteo blinked and refocused on the commander. “How can I help?”

“By doing what you’ve been doing this week,” Knight replied. “What we’ve all been doing. Reminding her that working with a team is better. That someone having her back makes her stronger. That there’s strength in a team.”

He shoved a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. “Keeping her out of the loop about Rasheed isn’t going to win us any points.”

Or help him break through the walls around her heart.

“When she finds out—because she will find out…she’s even more tenacious than you—we’ll just have to make her see why the bastard’s more important alive,” Knight said. “She’ll come around. Trust me.”

God, he wished he was as confident as the commander. All Matteo knew was he’d hurt her before, and didn’t want to do it anymore.

The key sounded in the lock in the apartment door a second before it opened and Brooke and Bella walked in.

“Look who I found pulling up outside.” Brooke smiled, but alarm drifted through her gaze as she glanced at the computers.

Thank Christ the commander had closed that damn file.

“Morning, Bella.” Knight smiled. “There’s fresh coffee. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” She nodded, then glanced at him as she neared, concern darkening her gaze. “You okay? You look tired.” 

He nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yeah. Just tired. Stayed up late going over evidence.”

Her eyebrows lowered and pinched together. “Why didn’t you ask me? I would’ve helped.”

Dammit. He had shit for brains.

“I called him here,” the commander spoke up. “The Knight Agency is helping him with his mission. If you were one of my agents, I would’ve gladly called you in, too.”

A smile spread across her lips. “I see what you did there. You are persistent.”

“When have you known me not to be?” Knight smirked.

“Never.” Her smile remained. “And I’m pretty certain I wasn’t one of your agents last night either, and yet, you didn’t seem to have an issue with me helping out.”

“Ah, but that’s different.” The commander’s smirk increased. “I needed you to get my agent inside.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Ah. I see how it is.”

“I was also hoping you’d get a taste of how good it could be working with a partner or two,” Knight stated, and Matteo nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee he tried to swallow.

The feel of her soft curves pressed against him, and taste of her hot, eager mouth immediately came to mind. Bella’s gaze flicked to Matteo, and he knew she was remembering their kisses too.

“From what I hear, you both handled each other well,” Knight added.

Matteo wondered if the man had seen the footage or heard the tapes, or if Brooke had filled the commander in on their heated improvising, but Knight’s gaze remained neutral and gave nothing away.

“Yes.” Bella nodded, her gaze finding his again. “Matteo proved to be very capable in a heated situation.”

Oh, the woman had no idea.

He grinned and stepped closer. “Thank you. I was thinking the same about you.”

Her lips parted into a sweet, sexy grin. “Good to know.”

It was the warmth and motivation Matteo needed to head out and make pizza. But even when he was there slinging dough, he always kept his ears open and continued to work the mission.

An unease hoovered on the boardwalk lately. A tangible gnawing he felt growing stronger each day. The fact Paresh and his two pals stopped in the same time every day—a classic sign they were casing a job—sent up several red flags. If they hadn’t already been under surveillance, he would’ve added them to the list.

And even though Paresh wasn’t sleeping at the abandoned building, or carrying a backpack, it didn’t stop them from watching him. Brooke oversaw keeping an eye on the kid, which eased some of Matteo’s guilt about surveilling his friend’s son whenever he talked with Omar.

“So, how is the mission going?” Bella asked as she poured a cup of coffee. “Did you find anything on the computers yet? Or in the photographs Matteo shot?”

His cue to leave. The less he had to lie to her the better. “I have to go open the shop,” he said, slipping into his coat. “Let me know if anything comes up, otherwise, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t come back without a pepperoni and onion pizza,” Knight told him.

“And green peppers,” Brooke added.

He grinned. “Roger that.” Then turned his attention to Bella. “Anything special you’d like to add?”

For a split second, heat flickered through her gaze, then disappeared. “You know what I like.”

He was starting to, and looked forward to discovering all her secret turn-ons―what made her moan, what made her pant, and what made her cry out his name.

***

After spending the morning watching live feed of Tariq and Kamal reading in their room in the abandoned building—where the only action taking place was the paint literally peeling off the damn walls—Bella grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and slipped it on.

“Have fun,” she told Knight and Brooke as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Knight transferred his attention from the monitor to her and lifted a brow. “Too much excitement?”

She snickered. “Yeah. I’ll leave that fascinating bit of investigation to you.”

“Going to sniff out a lead?” A knowing gleam entered Brooke’s eyes.

Bella crossed her fingers behind her back, because everyone knew that made an outright lie more of a little fib. “Nah. I’m not technically a Knight, so I’m going to go home and do some laundry.”

Brooke’s snort echoed through the room. “Right.”

It was good to hear her friend laugh. She didn’t do it often enough.

And by laundry, she meant she was going to head to Camden to check out the gun shop where the two stars of the Taliq and Kamal show got their guns.

Knight frowned. “Why don’t you wait for Matteo?”

Wait?

She raised her brows. “Because I’m wearing my big-girl panties today, and can handle a little laundry on my own. But don’t worry, I’ll be back before he finishes work and shows up with the pizza.”

Disappointment flickered through Knight’s eyes, and without permission, regret whispered through her body. Stupid emotion. Bella straightened her shoulders and walked out the door. He wasn’t her boss anymore. She didn’t need to please or impress him.

Then why was there a knot of remorse lodged in her chest?

On her drive into Camden, Bella contemplated the question and came up with a simple answer. Because she respected him and not having his approval didn’t sit well in her gut.

But she had a mission to do, handed to her by her current boss. A mission she wanted—no, needed—to carry out on her own.

Helping Matteo and Knight was fun, but that wasn’t her sole reason. She wasn’t stupid. Even though they never said his name, she knew they were after Rasheed. So by sticking close to them, helping them out, she was hoping they would eventually lead her to her mark.

And it appeared to be paying off. Those IDs Matteo found in Simpson’s filing cabinet last night—the one’s he’d neglected to share with her—proved Rasheed was indeed coming to her hometown.

Having worked with Knight, Bella knew about the app his agents used, and in case Matteo was in possession of it, she’d used one of her CIA issued gadgets to target his phone when they’d danced last night. Being in his arms, pressed against his hard body had been amazing, and dangerously distracting. Good thing her gadget was automated and only needed to be within a few inches to reprogram the app on his phone to send a copy of anything that passed through his camera straight to her laptop at home.

A measure of guilt over deceiving him had gripped her chest during the party, but it’d dissipated the instant she’d arrived home last night to find a folder with photos of IDs with a bald, clean-shaven Rasheed in her inbox.

She didn’t get mad, though. It was Matteo’s job. His mission. She understood this and didn’t take it personally. Using the device on him wasn’t personal either. Just part of her job.

Like investigating the gun shop where she’d just arrived. The one Knight’s people had determined was the place the weapons came from that Kamal and Taliq had hidden in their floor boards.

Contrary to Knight’s suggestion, she didn’t need hand-holding in order to investigate. Even if holding Matteo’s hand had sent a delicious, tingling awareness throughout her body, making her wonder exactly how those big, firm, calloused hands would feel on her actual body.

Exhaling on a growl, she pushed those distracting thoughts aside, and returned her focus to her job at hand. Checking out the gun shop.

She knew when to observe, and when to engage, and when to shake the tree to see what nuts shook loose—today’s goal.

Walking between a gorgeous sports car and a beat-up pickup, she found it amusing that a guy in a suit sat behind the wheel of the truck instead of the Jag.

Perhaps clothes were more important than the ride. Or perhaps the hair on the back of her neck was standing up for a reason.

Entering the shop, she noted five people, security cameras in every corner, a closed door to a room in back, and two burned-out bulbs in the ceiling, all before she shut the door.

A middle-aged man with a broken left thumb worked behind the counter, a young couple browsed handgun choices in the glass case that ran the whole left side of the shop, a guy in an expensive suit, like the one in the truck, talked on the phone, and a large man in a green sweater with a hole near the bottom stocked a shelf with boxes of pipe cleaners.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

She headed straight to guy behind the counter. “Hi. Maybe you can help me.”

“I can try.” His gaze twinkled when he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen either of these two men?” She pulled out her phone and showed him the screen. “They go by either Tariq and Kamal, or Kevin and Ron.”

Everyone in the shop stopped what they were doing to glance her way. Exactly what she’d wanted, and reason for her loud, clear, tone.

He nodded. “Yeah. Kevin and Ron were in here last week. Why?” Dread erased his pleasant expression and wrinkled his brow. “Did they do something bad with the guns?”

“No.” She slipped her phone back in her pocket. “Not yet. Just trying to find them before they do.” A blatant lie to throw off anyone who could be listening. “Any chance you have an address for either of them?”

Not that she needed it. Knight’s people already had a copy of the applications and had checked out the addresses. But she did need to shake that tree.

The guy narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “You a cop or something?”

A smile tugged her lips. “Or something.”

“I’m gonna need to see a badge before I give out that info.”

“Of course.” She handed him her credentials.

His brows rose, and posture straightened. “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, returning her ID. “I’ll be right back with those addresses.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, and put away the badge she rarely used.

It wasn’t exactly a shiny gold star with the words Terrorist Hunter on it, but the seal with U.S. Department of Homeland Security usually came in handy, even if her unit was technically a product of a joint operation between Homeland and the C.I.A.

“Here you go.” The worker returned and handed her copies of the applications.

“I appreciate it.” She folded the papers and shoved them in her jacket pocket, before pulling out a card and sliding it across the glass counter to him. “And if you see them again, I’d also appreciate if you’d call that number.”

Not that she expected Kevin and Ron to show up again.

He glanced at the card before shoving it in his shirt pocket. “Of course.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you. You’ve been very cooperative.”

He nodded, and she took one last glance around the shop, hiding a smile as four onlookers immediately averted their gazes.

Perhaps she’d shaken something loose.

On her deliberately slow drive back to AC, Bella checked her rearview several times, satisfaction heating her blood as the familiar beat-up pickup from the gun shop parking lot followed at a distance, with a passenger now in the truck too.

When it didn’t appear as if traffic was going to thin out, she turned off the expressway to lure the men away from the possibility of the innocent getting hurt.

The truck followed.

Good. Slowing to pay the toll at the end of the exit ramp, she glanced in her rearview and recognized the passenger as the man in the suit who’d been on the phone in the shop. Yeah, they didn’t stand out or anything. Not with their suits appearing to cost more than the truck.

Idiots.

She turned right, then made a left onto a quiet service road that ran parallel to the expressway, separated by a thicket of woods.

Again, the truck followed.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up again. There was only one oncoming car, after that, the road would be deserted.

Perfect.

Without changing her posture so as not to give away her actions, she pressed the button to lower the window, then carefully reached for the gun holstered under her coat and flicked off the safety.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, pounding through her chest with a familiar rhythm.

Things were about to get real.