Thump-thump. Wack. Thump-thump. Wack. Someone wailed on a sparring bag, the sound reverberating through Alpha Security’s corridor as if it was on the overhead communication system. The closer to the gym Vince got, the louder the low grunts became. Logan and Trey, two of his Alpha teammates, hovered outside the door, which left a handful of possibilities as to the owner of the serious aggression.
“Why are you two girls hiding out here in the hall?” Vince smacked Logan on the back and peeked into the training room.
The snug fabric hugging the ample curves of her breasts like a fucking glove, Charlie bounced on the balls of her feet in a hypnotic to-and-fro movement. A little blue jewel winked at him from her belly button as she pivoted her hips and turned her torso into a punch.
Frowning, Vince watched the way she attacked the sparring bag, as if it had insulted her mother, and she showed no signs of slowing despite the dewy glow sliding over her skin. “How long has she been at this?”
“An hour.” Trey, obviously displeased, nodded toward the left. “And before that it was about thirty minutes of Scooter time—give or take.”
Vince glanced over to the life-sized dummy they kept on hand for weapons training, and winced at the half dozen throwing knives sticking out of his neck. And his chest. And his groin, exactly where his dick would be fucking shish-kebabed if he’d been human.
Logan’s gaze tracked the way Charlie drilled fist after fist into the sparring bag and added, “And she was in Stone’s office before that.”
“Door open or closed?” asked Vince.
“Closed. For half-a-fucking-hour.”
Fuck. Nothing good ever came out of being summoned to the boss’s office. And Vince couldn’t help but tally the time clock and realize that the chain of events had started soon after she’d hustled toward the back room with Preppy Boy.
“Did either of you ask her what happened?” asked Vince.
The guys looked at him as if he’d sprouted a dick in the middle of his forehead.
“Does it look like we have a fucking death wish?” Trey questioned. “Jesus. I have a kid on the way, one I’d like to watch grow up, and raise alongside my future wife. No way am I sticking my head anywhere near the lion’s mouth.”
“She’s five-foot-nothing.”
Logan shook his head, chuckling low. “Dude. You’ve been on the team for a while now, and it’s like you haven’t learned a damn thing. Charlie makes some four-star generals seem like domesticated pussycats.”
He was inclined to agree. Though petite Charlie was no wilting flower. He’d been on the receiving end of her sharp wit more times than he cared to count, not to mention her roundhouse. But that wasn’t where her edge stopped.
The most exquisite ink work he’d seen in a damn long time wrapped around the right side of her torso and slid beneath the band of her yoga pants. The understated beauty of rich brown tree limbs and pink cherry blossoms was as gorgeous as it was fitting. Hard and soft. Stark and gorgeous. All of it fit Charlie to a tee.
“You’re overextending your arm on the punch.” Vince stepped into the gym, aware that his friends hightailed it in the opposite direction the second he’d opened his mouth.
Chicken shits.
“I don’t recall asking for your bloody advice.” Not bothering to look in his direction, she drilled another series of punches into the bag, no doubt envisioning his face floating in front of her.
“The friendly thing to do would be to say ‘Thank you, Vincent. You saved me from having my arm in a sling for four weeks.’”
“If you want friendly, go upstairs.” Charlie nodded above them to where the bar was in full midnight swing. “I’m sure there’s a blonde or brunette or redhead looking to be the next member in the Navy Boy fan club.”
Thwack. Kick.
Hell, she was right. He could go up to the bar and, within five minutes, have a willing companion for the night. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and the fleeting sexual release would’ve easily smoothed away the constant edge that always hovered beneath the surface. Now it left him cold.
“You almost sounded a little jealous there, English. Careful, or I may get the impression you care.” Vince took position behind the sparring bag and held it in place, knowing he was living dangerously but not giving a shit.
As expected, she kicked precariously close to his right hand. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. I could get a bad dye-job and fake boobs if I wanted, but flying around like a deflated balloon if something sharp pokes me in the chest isn’t my idea of fun.”
At the mention of her chest, his eyes dropped to her cleavage. Hell, he couldn’t help it. He was a man, and the two secured globes looked pretty damn close to perfection. Unfortunately, she noticed his shifted attention too.
Charlie twisted, winding up for another roundhouse, but this time didn’t pull back. Before he registered her aim, the top of her shoe connected with his ear, making it ring like a church bell.
Vince released the bag with a growl. “Jesus Christ, woman. You’re a fucking nuisance.”
Hands on her curvy hips, she stepped into his space, the top of her head barely hitting his chin. Mighty Mouse with a bad attitude. “Oh, please. You’re a big bad SEAL and you can’t take a little tap?”
“You want to turn this into a hand-to-hand sparring match, English Muffin? Fine with me.”
She ducked his frontal assault and spun, her foot impacting two inches above his knee. The damn thing buckled and gave her the upper hand for about five seconds. Vince took his time, blocking each of her moves while he waited for the one that would regift him the advantage. When her eyes shifted left, he spun right. Now behind her, he pinned his forearm across her collarbone and anchored her back against his chest.
“Are you done yet?” His lips brushed over the shell of her ear. Every one of his internal alarms went ape-shit, including the one between his legs, which was semi-hard and nestled perfectly against the small of her back.
Fuck, he couldn’t help it. All night watching her, then picturing her posing nude. He could only keep his body in check for so goddamned long without having at least one minor slip.
Charlie stilled for about two seconds, her backside moving into a slight sway. And hell if she didn’t do it again, the second time pulling a low groan from his throat. His grip lightened to step away, but it was too late. Two small hands yanked down his arm, and a set of teeth bit into the flesh of his hand.
“Fucking-A,” Vince howled, releasing her quickly.
Charlie ignored his colorful curses and swayed her ass over to her water bottle. “Yep. I’m about done now.”
Vince opened his mouth to comment, but movement at the doorway caught his attention.
Stone stood off the mat, arms folded across his chest. And fuck, he didn’t look happy. “I need you in the meeting room. Now. And Charlie, I want your ass in there in another ten.”
Vince nodded, not having any clue how much of the show he’d seen.
He tossed Charlie a glare before leaving the room, and followed Stone deeper into the underground labyrinth that was Alpha Security headquarters. They had not only a training room, but a shooting range, offices, and a meeting room that made the Pentagon look half-assed. And all of it built into a section of the Blue Ridge Mountains. To the outside world, Vince and his team were business owners and bouncers who’d taken over the running of a much-loved neighborhood bar. To a select few topside, they were the men who got shit done when the government’s hands were metaphorically—or logistically—tied.
The meeting room was empty when they got there. “You want a bag of ice for that hand?”
Vince glared at his boss’s smirk. “Maybe a tetanus shot. Look, about what happened in the training room, I—”
“This isn’t about the training room, although it does involve Charlie.”
Stone wasn’t an easy guy to read—at all. But his silence spoke a thousand fucking words. “What about her?”
“I’ve offered her a primary position in a case.”
Vince narrowed his gaze on his boss. Having been champing at the bit for a real field assignment, the mouthy Brit should’ve been walking around HQ busting their balls and gloating. “If you’ve assigned her a case, then why the hell has she spent the last hour neutering Scooter? What the hell kind of case is this?”
Lips pressed in a tight line, Stone looked grim. “DHS. More specifically, human-trafficking, with a possible link to agency corruption.”
Vince’s eyes widened. That sure as hell wasn’t what he’d expected to come out of Stone’s mouth. “In the Department of Homeland? Shit. And you think English can track the perps electronically or something?”
“That would be fucking nice, but no. It’s a bit more complicated. I’m not sure what you know about Charlie pre-Alpha, but—”
“Nothing, and it’s bloody well going to stay that way.” The woman herself stood in the doorway of what she and Penny had once dubbed the Room of Testosterone. Her brown eyes shifted to him before traveling back to Stone. “Sorry, I didn’t think I should wait and chance missing all the fun. And I’m glad I didn’t. What’s Navy doing here?”
“I told you that if you decide to go through with this, you’d have a partner.” Stone nodded toward Vince. “Franklin’s yours.”
Charlie’s calculating gaze slid to him before returning to their boss. “No way in hell.”
“If your backup isn’t one of ours, it doesn’t happen. I’m not letting you go back on the inside without someone we can trust standing next to you. I’m sorry you’re having a problem with that, but that’s how it’s going to be.”
“What about Logan?”
“With you away, I need him running operations here.”
“Chase?”
“Out on a surveillance gig. Rafe’s on another assignment too. And I’m not sending Trey, knowing his mind would be back here on Elle and the baby. Franklin’s your second. You can either accept it and sit down to hear the rest, or I can call our contact at DHS right now and tell them it’s a no-go. Your choice.”
Charlie trying to pass Vince over in favor of one of the other guys chafed him raw. Being one of the newest to the team didn’t mean he was a fucking rookie. In his years of service, he’d seen and done things that would give a person’s nightmares nightmares. Fuck, he still woke up most nights in a goddamned cold sweat.
Charlie sat two chairs away, refusing to look him in the eye. He didn’t even know exactly what the assignment entailed, but he was suddenly hell-bent on making sure he was there for its duration, whether she liked it or not.
“Charlie was approached tonight by a DHS agent looking for assistance with one of their dying cases. They’re about two steps away from writing it off and calling it a loss,” Stone addressed Vince.
It took him a moment to register what his boss was saying and to connect the dots—to Preppy Boy. Vince shifted his attention to Charlie. “The dipshit with the chinos was a DHS agent?”
Charlie nodded, still not looking his way.
Vince turned to his boss. “Okay, so why the hell are they approaching English? That kid was barely out of diapers there’s no way in fucking hell he’s high enough on the DHS food chain to know about Alpha.”
“They didn’t approach Alpha Security. They approached Charlie because they believe she’s the inside they’ve been lacking. I’m making it an Alpha Security issue. I contacted our department liaison and told him that if she decides to go through with it, it’ll be us taking point. Actually, taking the fuck over. Color me surprised when he sounded relieved. They’ve lost three agents trying to get on the inside of the Franconi crime organization, and the fourth, their deep-cover agent, is suspected to have switched jerseys.”
“Franconi?” Vince’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I know that name?”
“Most people do unless they’ve been living under a rock.”
Suddenly, it clicked. “Why the fuck would Charlie have insight into a human-trafficking ring led by one of the East Coast’s most notorious crime lords?”
Vince stared down Stone. Stone looked expectantly to Charlie. And Charlie finally flashed her dark brown eyes Vince’s way and admitted, “Because Arturo Franconi’s my uncle.”
* * *
“Uncle.” The truth of that word sliced up Charlie’s throat like razor blades. Her aunt’s marriage to Arturo Franconi meant he’d been gifted guardianship of eight-year-old Charlie when bad weather and a twisty road took both her mother and her aunt away with one veer of the steering wheel.
Growing up in the middle of a crime cartel hadn’t been the type of life experiences her mother had had in mind when they first set off across the globe, but Charlie had been subjected to it nonetheless…for eight years, until she’d gotten the final push to make a quick, clean break.
“You may want to close your mouth before a fly beds down in your tonsils,” Charlie addressed an obviously shocked Vince. “Yes, Arturo’s my uncle, but only because some judge in Florida signed a marriage license.”
Vince’s gaze snapped back to Stone. “You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”
“Wish I was,” Stone answered. “If you and Charlie decide to do this, you rely only on each other and no one else. There’s no way in hell we’re going to take a chance that the deep-cover agent is still loyal to the feds.”
And that was something that Charlie couldn’t yet wrap her head around. “I know DHS said Brock Torres has become like Arturo’s appendage, but I can’t see it. I know Brock, or at least, I thought I did. He couldn’t stand the fact that his father worked for Arturo before he left for the Army, and he hated it even more when he got out. Him working for the organization—cover or not—is really hard to picture.”
Stone slid a large manila envelope down the table. Surveillance photos. Each image ignited a flash from Charlie’s past, erasing nearly a decade in an instant. Except for the obvious aging of her uncle’s colleagues, the first few pictures didn’t make her blink more than once. The one of Brock, however, made her pause. And stare.
Every second of the last twelve years was etched on the hard lines of his face. In one particular photo, her one-time friend stood next to Arturo, looking oh-so-comfortable as they spoke, heads bowed low in conversation. Or maybe she should say her one-time supposed friend, because he’d evidently been on the job when he befriended her all those years ago.
Stone stood, locking Charlie in his sights. “The only reason I didn’t put a stop to this right off the bat is because of you. I feel for the women being taken, too. I do. But I was dead serious. You and Vince either do this together, or you don’t do it at all. Figure out if that’s something the two of you can do without killing each other and let me know. I’ll be in my office.”
Stone walked out of the meeting room, making Charlie painfully aware she was alone with Vince. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d try demanding answers to the questions firing around in his head. Whether or not they’d be ones she’d answer was less certain.
Vince leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and stared at her. He didn’t say a word. Not a mumble. Not even an audible sigh. He merely waited, as if he hadn’t just found out she’d been raised by a man who made hardened criminals piss in their britches.
Needing to move, Charlie stood and began pacing the length of the room before she caught herself and picked a spot a safe three feet away. “I suppose you’re expecting me to plead my case on why I want to go.”
“No, but if you think pleading may be necessary, then I’m curious why you think going’s a good idea.”
“It’s not a good idea,” she said honestly. “Actually, I think it’s a horrid idea, and I can’t express to you how much I don’t want to do it.”
He blinked, trying to understand. “Then why are we even talking about it? Stone’s leaving the decision in our hands. If you don’t want to do it, you say no. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not simple. At all. Because if I’m in a position to find those nine missing women and prevent others from being abducted, then that’s what I bloody well need to do. Otherwise, we’re part of the problem.”
“What problem?” Vince needed to know.
“Apathy. The whole ‘Well, it doesn’t involve me directly, so I’m keeping my nose out of it’ mentality that’s been known to plague humanity.”
“And what about putting yourself at risk?” When she didn’t answer, Vince stood, his towering height forcing her gaze north. Before he realized it, he was inches away from crowding her personal space. “I can’t imagine a man like Franconi was happy about letting you walk away.”
Charlie snorted. “It’s not like he had a choice.”
Vince raised a brow, his curiosity piqued.
Charlie sighed, knowing she needed to tell him something. “I’ve had a fondness for computers for as long as I can remember—a fondness my uncle liked to utilize from time to time to help him slip out of tight spaces. Thinking how naive and trusting I was, it makes me cringe. But when I was fifteen, I wised up, stopped helping, and started working against him. The man’s seriously techno-illiterate. It let me construct a ticket to freedom…which I used when I was sixteen.”
“So in other words, you blackmailed him.”
Charlie shrugged. “What I did, worked. I left, and he knew if anything ever happened to me, all the information I’d collected through the years would get to the authorities. To this day, he doesn’t know exactly what I have on him…which, between you and me, wouldn’t have been enough to buy him five to ten years. I was a little too good at keeping his nose looking clean.”
Vince stared at her as if trying to read her memories. Too intuitive for his own bloody good, he no doubt knew she was leaving something out. And she was. Oh, she’d used her computer savvy to magic her way out of his life, but she’d been forced to leave Miami and cut all ties before she’d drummed up enough damaging evidence against him.
After her own abduction, Charlie focused on nothing but living.