Vince wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower to the chorus of British curses coming from the suite’s living room. A few more days of working with Charlie, and his vocab was going to expand by at least 50 percent—and considering he used to be in the Navy, that was saying a damn lot.
Ever since they’d returned from Arturo’s, Charlie had been in a roaring mood, even threatening physical harm to the goddamned laptop itself. Escaping to the bedroom and hoping a little more time alone would chill her out would be the smart thing to do.
Too bad he wasn’t smart.
He barely reached her before she hurled the laptop across the room.
“Give that back to me right the bloody hell now, Navy!” Charlie grabbed for it, and he lifted it further out of her reach. Sometimes being as tall as a mountain paid off.
“Calm the hell down, and I’ll give it to you. We both know if you toss it, you’re going to be pissed about it five seconds later. And then who are you going to take it out on? Me.”
Charlie sank a fist into his gut. He lowered his arms with a grunt, and she ripped the damn thing out of his hands. “I don’t need you to tell me what I’m going to be pissed about.”
She plunked her small body onto the couch, cross-legged, and rested the computer on her lap.
“I take it things aren’t going as well as you’d expected,” Vince teased dryly.
She threw him a glare. “Really? Now you’re going to try and grow a sense of humor?”
“Better late than never, right?”
Her attention dropped to his towel, and damn if his body didn’t respond. Thank God she diverted it back to the computer screen or she’d have seen the terry cloth twitch. Hyperaware—that’s how his body reacted whenever she laid those brown eyes on him.
He made his way around the back of the couch, putting an additional barrier between them, and leaned over her shoulder. “You can’t find anything?”
She let out a sign and tucked a stray pink hair behind her ear. “Nothing useful. Everything I’ve come across so far makes it seem like Arturo really isn’t talking out of his arse—that he’s trying to make his businesses legitimate. Those that aren’t hacking the change are slowly being shut down.”
“So either there’s something we’re missing, or there’s nothing there. You said before, Arturo’s no angel, but selling humans doesn’t seem like his thing.”
“Yeah, but someone is. That’s awfully ballsy to do in Arturo’s turf—and all of Miami is his turf, not just the clubs on Ocean Drive.”
A beep sounded right before a video chat request popped up from headquarters. Charlie clicked on it, and Logan’s face appeared on the screen. “Hello, my love—” His words cut off. “Well, I was going to say ‘my lovely,’ but you look like you’ve been on a week-long bender. Jesus.”
“It amazes me how you’re not taken, Callahan,” Charlie joked.
“Amazes me and my gran too. I’m quite the catch.”
“What do you need, Logan?” Vince asked, trying to get them back on track.
Logan’s smile slowly faded. Fuckin-A. That was never a good sign.
“There was another abduction last night—this one outside a club called Hot Lips.”
Vince arched a brow. “You know where?”
“Sure do. According to the DHS who questioned the witness, the abductee’s friend saw her being hoisted into the back of a van, but the alley behind the club was too dark and she was too blitzed to give much detail—or any. She swears one of them looked like one of the Avengers.”
“Well, that’s credible,” Vince joked dryly.
“I’m sending you what DHS gave us, but I’m warning you ahead of time. There isn’t much.”
“Any link to the two girls who disappeared last week? Or the ones before?”
“Nothing concrete. They look nothing alike and they’re all from different backgrounds.”
“You said nothing concrete.” Vince caught onto the former Marine’s words. “Does that mean there’s something?”
“The two last week were friends, military brats celebrating the end of semester finals. One has a general grandfather and the other, a JAG lawyer father who’s been retired five years now. Last night’s, Tif Jansen, has a colonel uncle.”
Charlie bit her lower lip, contemplating the new information. “So the last three have a military connection. It could be a huge-ass coincidence. I mean, the girls taken before this point didn’t have military ties.”
Vince leaned on the back of the couch, his arm sliding behind Charlie’s neck. Her slight shiver gifted him a little thrill before he focused back on the assignment. “Okay, so we have at least a dozen abducted young women, the latest three of which have military connections.”
“But you can’t forget, Miami’s a vacation destination. People flock here in droves, especially the young, I-have-nothing-better-to-do-with-my-money coeds,” Charlie pointed out, half-turning in her seat to look at Vince. “I know what you’re thinking, but Logan’s right. We can’t say it’s a new trend in the pattern. It’s horrible to think about, but human trafficking is big business here. But it is a business. The more grabs they make, the more money they can stuff in their wallets. Traffickers sure as hell aren’t doing background checks on their targets.”
“This whole damn thing is fucked-up,” Vince muttered.
Charlie murmured in agreement, turning back toward Logan. “Send everything DHS gave you and maybe between the two of us, we’ll find something else linking all the girls.”
“You mean something other than being last seen at one of Franconi’s clubs?” Logan asked. At Charlie’s scowl, he backtracked. “You got it, darlin’. I’ll send away. So, how’s engaged life treating the two of you? Looks like a nice room. Double bed? Queen? King?”
“Logan,” Vince warned.
“Hey, I’m curious how sleeping arrangements are working out for you all.”
“Good-bye, Callahan.” Vince reached over Charlie’s shoulder and closed the video-link. Suddenly, he felt like he hadn’t slept in ten damn years. He stretched his arm over his head, working out the coiled muscles in his back. “Bed sounds like a good idea.”
Charlie looked at him like he’d sprouted a horn in the middle of his head. “Did you not just hear him? There was another kidnapping. We don’t have time for things like sleep. We need to get to that club and see what we can find out.”
“It’s three in the morning. The club’s closed. Hell, if there’s been another abduction, it probably closed even earlier. You’re not going to find out anything—and you’re not going to be able to function tomorrow and make sound decisions without rest.” He came around the couch and removed the computer from her hands. “Bed now. Worry later.”
“I’ll take the couch tonight, since I had the bed last night.”
Vince snorted and pulled her off the couch in one tug. “I wasn’t born yesterday, English. If I leave you here with your computer, you’ll be back on it before the bedroom door even closes. It stays out here—with me. Now go and get at least four hours.”
Charlie glanced to where his hands remained cupped over her elbow, not just holding her steady. His thumb, having a mind of its own, caressed the soft skin on the inside of her arm.
He dropped his hand, fisting it at his side, as if that would get rid of electric buzz that had started when he’d first touched her. No such fucking luck.
“You’re getting awfully bossy, Navy…and hands-y,” warned Charlie.
“I’m your fiancé, right? Looking out for your welfare it part of the job description. And before you start going on about sexism and equal opportunity, I’d be telling any of the guys to hit the sack too.”
“Would you also be holding their hand?”
Vince shrugged. “If the assignment called for it? Maybe. Or maybe I like touching you. Ever think of that?”
Charlie’s cheeks pinked. She stormed away in a mad huff, his name and a slew of curse words flying off her lips seconds before the bedroom door slammed.
“Was it something I said, sweetheart?” Vince called out. Something hit the door from the other side, making him chuckle.
That was one way to get her to run the other way.
Too bad his words held way more truth than made him comfortable. He liked holding her. Touching her. Kissing her practically sent him into fucking orbit. Hell, being close to her was starting to feel so damn natural he reached for her without thinking.
Maybe he should be turning around and running the other way too.
* * *
Sixteen clicks away from the forward operating base, they got their first whiff of smoke. At three, Vince and his team stood on the bluff overlooking the destruction and tried to decipher the charred remains. People below shouted and called out, alerting them to the fact that not everyone was gone, but there was a big-ass crater where the sleeping quarters used to be.
The bastards had attacked while everyone had been fucking sleeping.
“Franklin, over here.” Rico gestured to the right where a small divot in the earth cut a rough road through the mountain.
Vince aimed his binocs toward the fast-moving group of nine men—not theirs—all hustling like their lives depended on it. The mobile wagon with the military-grade rocket launchers on it pegged these fuckwads as the ones who’d tried taking out their friends.
Vince knew what Rico wanted to hear, but as team commander, it was his responsibility to give the order.
“We can’t let them fucking go, V,” Rico protested. The native New Yorker knew Vince better than anyone and immediately read the thoughts going through his head—and didn’t have any qualms about questioning him, despite being outranked. “They smoked half the goddamn base.”
“We should see who’s alive and help where we can.” Vince said the words he was trained to say, although he didn’t agree.
“I’m no fucking nursemaid. My talents stray much more heavily toward kicking some insurgent ass.” Rico nodded to where the group of nine men quickly hustled their way out of the valley. “If we wait too much longer, they’re gone.”
Every one of Vince’s five-man team nodded their agreement. Return to base or hunt for a little retribution. An argument could be made for either decision, but goddamn it, some of those men and women had been prepped to go home next week.
Orders or emotions. Vince had to choose.
“Pack up and haul ass,” he barked, his decision made. “Once they get out of the ravine, they’re going to be practically impossible to find.”
Two hours and one shoot-out later, they’d finally cut the bastards off, with meters to spare before they could’ve tucked tail and spread out into the mountain.
“They’re retreating!” Rico shouted over the hail of gunfire, and despite the fact that he was crouched next to Vince behind the boulder, he could barely hear his teammate. “Those assholes are getting the fuck away!”
“Like hell they are,” Vince growled. “Eagle Eye,” Vince snapped into his radio, “what are we looking at from the bird’s view?”
“We got six at your twelve, hauling it east—and fast,” Eagle Eye Sanders came online. “And we got two veering off, one north, one northwest. They want to split us up, evidently not as stupid as we thought.”
Six and two. Split or not, it was still a piece of fucking cake. Vince divvied his team like he would on any other mission, and they immediately jumped to execute his orders. Next to him, Rico was anxious to get moving, too, and he couldn’t blame his friend. People they’d come to call family were in the camp, and they had no idea if they were alive or dead. The only thing they did know? Their camp had exploded from the inside out, and these bastards were responsible.
“Let me cut off the ass from the northwest,” Rico tried convincing him.
Vince shook his head. “Pairs. You know the rules. We head off the guy from the north and then cut west to get the straggler.”
“And then we run the risk of him getting the fuck away. Come on, man. You know this is the only way to make sure we get every single damn one of those fuckers before they climb into a hole and disappear.” Rico got right in his face. “We got this. No fucking problem, man. Ball up.”
The smoke stench from their charred base still clung to Vince’s nostrils. All those soldiers—mothers, brothers, fathers, sisters. All heroes. All taken out in the most chicken-shit way imaginable.
“Fine. Let’s do this.” Vince fist-bumped Rico and returned his grin. “Watch your fucking ass, man.”
“Let’s do it.”
And they did. Seven fucking hostiles in ten minutes, a cakewalk for SEAL Team Five’s well-oiled machine.
“Watchdog.” Vince reached out to Rico via their comm system. “Do you have a status?”
“Maybe he can’t give away his position,” Callen, one of the other men, murmured as they stalked closer to where Rico had last announced his position.
“Watchdog, we’re coming in on your flank. Don’t fucking shoot us in the face.”
They cleared the turn, and Vince raised his arm to signal his men to stop and take cover. Up on a rocky embankment, a distinguishable swatch of desert camo draped over a boulder.
“Stay here,” Vince told his team and kept going, knowing his guys had his six.
The closer Vince got to the boulder, the more his stomach twisted in a fucking knot. It wasn’t a lone swatch of camo…
Rico lay motionless, a growing puddle of red coating the rock beneath him. There was no need to check a pulse. With his face white and chest still, it was clear the gaping slash across his throat had drained him of all blood.
“Oh, fuck no.” Vince’s stomach rolled.
To his left, dirt and stone shifted. Vince spun seconds before Rico’s killer jumped out from his hiding place, the knife coated with his best friend’s blood lifted high, ready to plunge into his chest…
* * *
Vince couldn’t fucking breathe. His chest tightened each time he tried sucking in a dose of oxygen, sharpening the pain to fucking panic levels before the desert heat slowly started melting away. Each passing second brought him more into the present.
Instead of the vast openness of the outdoors, white walls surrounded him—and a floor. His knees dug into the soft carpet beneath him. His thudding heartbeat, the soft tick of a clock, and something else filled the room—a garble.
Vince blinked, trying to fully identify both the noise and his surroundings, when something smacked against his shoulder. Frozen in horror, he stared at the sight of his hand wrapped around Charlie’s neck.
“Fuck.” He jumped up instantly, bile already coating his throat as she gasped and rolled, struggling to regain her breath.
Vince paced, unable to look at her. Goddamn. He’d not only knocked her to the ground and straddled her slender body, but he’d fucking pinned her to the fucking floor!
A series of raspy coughs had him reluctantly looking her way. Back on her feet, she still worked a little hard to pull in fresh oxygen—and she stared straight at him. Not wanting to scare her to death—again—he stopped a good three feet away.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice gruff. If she wasn’t, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do. When she didn’t answer, he took a step in her direction. “Goddamn it, English…are you fucking okay?”
She flinched back. It was a small move, but noticeable—at least to him. Vince closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he dared look at her again, she’d been the one to approach him. “What was that?”
“I fucking hurt you,” Vince croaked. He wanted to throw up, automatically touching the red welts forming on her neck.
“I’m fine.” This time, she didn’t flinch, or move. Her gaze stayed locked on him, and she let him trace his fingers over her skin. Her voice sounded huskier than normal when she asked again, “Navy, what the hell was that?”
Vince growled softly, dropping his hand. “You’re not fine. Look in a mirror and tell me you’re fucking fine.”
“I don’t need a mirror. I’m breathing. I’ll live. I’m fine. Now are you going to answer my question or are you purposefully going to act obtuse?”
This was why he never got involved with anyone seriously enough to warrant a goddamned sleepover. He walked away, needing space. “Never wake me up. Do you hear me? Leave me the hell alone.”
She followed him into the small kitchenette. “It sounded like you were being chased by Freddy Krueger. Pardon me for trying to help your big bloody arse.”
He spun around, nodding toward the now-noticeable finger marks on her neck. “My big bloody arse is just fine. Can you say the same? If you want to be fucking helpful, then the next time you hear Freddy Krueger chasing me, leave my ass alone and walk the fuck away.”
Charlie stared at him as if telepathically trying to pluck his nightmare from his head. It was gone now. Mostly. All except the part when he’d woken up with his hand wrapped around her throat. That image would be burned into his memory vault forever.
“You need to let it go,” he added through gritted teeth.
“If only that’s how I was wired,” Charlie muttered before adding, “But if that’s how you want to play it, fine. Pretend away. Deep breathe or count to ten or do that meditation thing you like doing, but I don’t have to stand here and listen to you talk stupid.”
She grabbed the key card to their room and stormed off.
“Where are you going?” he called after her.
“Wherever the hell I feel like it. I either need to punch you a few dozen times or run a million miles,” she snapped back. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Charlie left, her lack of presence making the room feel like one big fucking cavernous tunnel—and he didn’t know where the other side led.