Hollywood woke up and shifted on the mattress. He was instantly aware and ready, his morning wood a common welcome occurrence. Not only were erections good for him, like vitamins, signaling that his testosterone levels were optimum, but they were damned convenient when a sexy woman was nearby. Also, regardless of the erection he often had, his alertness was part and parcel of being a SEAL. The warm form next to him, Monica, the sweet blonde he’d met in the bar last night, moved even as he reached for her, but she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ve got to get ready for work. You can let yourself out.”

What? She was kicking him out? That was a first. “You going to let this go to waste?” He indicated the tent in her sheet. Usually, he was the one to part company, but he wanted her one last time before he left. He was getting that itchy feeling—a deployment was coming up, his SEAL sixth sense kicking in. That would limit his chances of capitalizing on his morning wood, not to mention his combat erections.

“Come on, babe. I promise I’ll make it fast.”

She turned to look at him, an appreciative smile on her face, no compromise in her expression. “No can do, sailor boy. Time to ship out.”

She turned her beautiful back on him and headed toward the bathroom, firmly closing the door.

Hmm, she was…like him. He’d never met a woman who acted like a dude. No cuddling, no kissing, no fondling. Just wham, bam, thank you, sir. He wasn’t just a piece of meat. He had to wonder if his charms were slipping. Then laughed softly…nah. Pushing back the covers, he swung out of bed and walked into the steamy bathroom to relieve himself. It took a moment as he stimulated his bladder, voiding while having an erection could be painful if the bladder wasn’t warmed up.

Monica pushed the curtain back, and he could see her in the mirror, watching her run her eyes over his body, lingering on his butt.

“Damn, Jude, you are put together. All those delicious muscles.” He looked at his back in the mirror, his wide shoulders tapering down in thick muscles to his trim waist. He couldn’t lie. He was a physical guy, and working out came with the SEAL territory, except he loved every minute of it.

He turned toward her and raised his arms with a smirk on his face and did his best He-Man pose, his biceps bulging. “You interested in this Gun and Dick show?” Before every run there was a race between the mind and an excuse. Win it. That was his motto.

She threw her head back and laughed. Flicking the curtain open, she said with a sultry lilt to her voice, “Get in here, you prick.”

Hey, who was he to argue? When he stepped into the tub, she ran her hands over his pecs, and he flexed them, making her giggle some more. Damn, women, they were so beautiful.

“Hey, this is good for us. Sex is therapeutic.”

“Oh, is it?” She shook her head. “Pray tell.”

“Better blood pressure, less stress, better sleep, heart health, boosts your immune system, and,” he smiled wide, “increases happiness. Who doesn’t want to be happy?”

For a second, he felt regret that he’d never settle down and have this on a permanent basis. He knew what it was like to find his picket fence girl, his forever lover, only to have her break his freaking heart. That shit had to be guarded or it was going to happen again when he least expected it, when he wasn’t prepared, and when it would hurt so goddamned much again. No way. Not for him. No matter how much he liked Monica, his service and his lifestyle just didn’t mesh with that type of woman. The ones worth having just couldn’t seem to get the warrior mindset.

His parents’ bitter divorce was also a study in avoiding married bliss. He thought immediately of his teammates and how they had found their own happiness. He envied them, but he refused to take the bait. He never wished them ill, but he had to wonder if their relationships would last through the deployments, the separations, and the fear.

“All that, huh?”

“Yeah, good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.”

“Bridge?”

“Yeah, that came directly from my nanna.”

She giggled again. “Oh my God.”

He sighed and absorbed the feel of her hands on him. Her fully engaged palms trailed down to his abdomen, wrapped around his shaft, then she went to her knees.

“You’re going to make me late for work, you bastard.”

“Mm-hmm,” he groaned as her mouth covered him. “I bet your day will be filled with many wide, happy smiles.”

“You are a charming one,” she said, chuckling, and he drew in a sensual breath as she started to suck. Damn, he loved morning wood.

Kat walked with Susan down the hall toward a door that led to a balcony. She was aware of it because she’d spent several weeks there while her mom had been hospitalized after her father disappeared. She remembered her teary pleading. I just want to know. God, the waiting is awful. She’d had a complete breakdown, and there were no answers from his supposed company because he wasn’t employed as an overseas contractor, he was CIA.

Kat had found that out totally by accident. She’d been playing in his study when he’d come in. The conversation she’d heard was unmistakable. After that, she’d been so proud to know that he was one of the good guys, working to save the world and keep them safe. His lies were nothing but a way he protected his family from his job. In her eyes, he was an American hero.

But even at the hospital with her mom so distraught, she couldn’t bring herself to break this secret and unspoken confidence. Her mother was still in the dark, but she had managed to move on, married a plumber and had two more kids. Her half siblings were fifteen and twelve. She rarely made it home; her cover story was a fashion photographer who was always at shoots. She even had cover photos and a studio in her apartment and wasn’t a bad photographer.

Kat did feel regret that she hadn’t told her mom or stepdad that she was thankful for him. Her stepdad was a decent, loving guy who had saved her mom from a life of isolated loneliness. Thinking about them gave her a lump in her throat.

Wicked’s mother was rigid with her arm looped through Kat’s as they pushed open the door and went onto the balcony. San Diego was sprawled beneath them, the sun not fully up.

Susan disengaged her arm and gripped the railing. She stared out at the city, tight compression lines around her mouth, then she released a long breath and glanced back at Kat.

There was more silence, then she finally said, her tone less brittle, more entreating, “I wish Phoenix was here.”

Kat had mixed feelings about Phoenix now, especially after she’d kissed Rion. She would never have wished his death, but she realized that she would have broken off the engagement, aware that she was in love with his brother. She could imagine the turmoil that would have caused in this family. She was sure seeing them together would cause problems in his family if…could she even say it…if she and Wicked were to…oh God…have a relationship now.

Susan considered them club members in the Phoenix Fan Club. But, regretfully, for how much she’d loved him, Susan didn’t know him at all.

It would be cruel to point it out now. It was clear to Kat the few times she’d visited that Susan and Wicked had a tense relationship. Phoenix had told her they didn’t get along, and he didn’t really want to talk about it much. It had to be a sore spot for every member of the family, kowtowing to Susan who was obviously the one who had control of them. Susan doted on Phoenix. It was no surprise she would have blamed Wicked for his death. Hell, Kat had. Again, she thought how brutal that must have been for him.

“I realize you have some hard feelings about your son, but I hope you can set those aside under the circumstances.”

Susan made a noncommittal grunt. “And just what circumstances are those?”

She ran her hand along the balcony rail, then looked at her. “Ares isn’t well. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that he would want Wicked close to home, taking over what he’s built over the years.”

“Oh, for God’s sake use his damn name. This call name stuff is from a totally different world.”

From her sneering tone, Kat could only get the impression that world didn’t belong in theirs. “Orion has no intention of ever leaving the SEALs. I would encourage him to follow his own dreams, not yours.”

Susan’s face went white, and Kat could feel the indignation in her. “How can you say that? That business has been in the family for generations—there’s a responsibility that goes along with that kind of heritage. He’s the eldest son. It’s up to him to assume it. He needs to stop playing war and do his duty.” She turned fully to face Kat. “My boys went to Francis Parker and Exeter and both got into Harvard. Orion went to the Olympics. He graduated from Harvard with honors and could have gotten his MBA. But instead he threw that all away to join the military. Phoenix followed in his footsteps,” she said bitterly.

Stunned in more ways than one, Kat just stared at her. Francis Parker? Exeter? Francis Parker was the top K-12 school in San Diego with a hefty tuition in excess of 30k, and Exeter was the top boarding high school in the nation, a feeder for Harvard. The tuition there was more than some people’s salaries.

“And you, as Phoenix’s choice, was never acceptable to me. He could have had celebrities or debutantes. Women of class. Not ones who dressed in leather and rode around on motorcycles like some biker chick. Not some girl who worked as a photographer for fashion, who gallivanted all over the world instead of making a home for her husband.” She looked down her nose at Kat, who was stunned at her words. She never would have suspected the way Susan felt when they’d first met. “You were never going to be enough.”

Something clicked in Kat’s mind, and something cold and deadly started to unfold in her gut. She couldn’t possibly be ashamed of her sons who risked their lives to serve in the United States Navy and Marines. She stared at Wicked’s mother, her eyes narrowing, her gaze unwavering. “Certainly, you can’t possibly be disparaging the navy, Marines, military service? Do you understand what Rion does every day? What kind of sacrifices he’s made? I’m flabbergasted at your attitude toward service. He has honor and integrity that goes above and beyond. You should be proud!”

“I lost a son! He was destined for more than being a soldier. I lost them both. So, don’t lecture me about service. It was their duty to rise to the occasion and support their family. That should have been their sacrifice! It was all Orion’s fault and I will never forgive him. Phoenix was special. He was my boy, my life. There’s a hole in my heart that I can never fill.”

“You want him to be miserable, don’t you?”

Susan turned away, her hands gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white. Kat continued to watch, disgust knotting her gut.

“I blamed him, too. For years. But I’ve only now realized that I was wrong and unfair. He had no control over what happened. If he could have, he would have given his own life to save his brother’s.”

“I wish he had.” She continued to grip the rail, her profile taut in the bright light striking her. But even with its sunny warmth, Susan Cross was cold and barren. Kat realized this could have been her, broken and bitter. This was what she might have ended up becoming if it wasn’t for Amanda’s support, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was in love with Orion Cross.

Wicked cleared his throat, and Kat whipped around. Oh, God. How much had he heard? But it was clear from his face and eyes that he’d heard everything.

Close to tears, she took a step, but Wicked closed down. An awful cold feeling washed through her. He suspected everything his mother had said, but hearing it said out loud was brutal and cruel.

“Rion—” Kat said.

“Dad’s asking for you.”

His mother turned from the rail and said nothing as she passed Kat and her rigid son. There was no noise on the balcony; not even the traffic permeated the oppressive silence.

He was staring off into space, and her heart hurt. She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak. “I’m sorry.” Not only for this incident, but for the years she had blamed him.

The muscles in his jaw bunched as he flicked his attention to her. Kat waited, wishing she could say something that would make him respond, something that would get him talking. But she despaired that it would happen, and she desperately needed it. He desperately needed it.

Emotions make you weak.

He still believed that. Her cell rang, and she wanted to ignore it. But he looked away as the phone continued to ring. Feeling more distanced from him than she ever had, she reached for the cell phone in her back pocket.

“Hello.”

“Kat, this is Michael. Borkov is awake. I want you here to interrogate him. Now that we have his family for leverage, it should be a piece of cake.”

She closed her eyes as Wicked turned and left the balcony. Leverage Hollywood had managed to get, and the SEAL team that she loved had secured it with the raid on the rebel base. She wanted to talk to Wicked, but she realized he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Best let it be for now. She still had a job to do, and she intended to find out what that FB knew, get justice for Amanda, and find those damn warheads before it was too late. “I’ll be right there.”

She went back to the hospital room, but Wicked was gone.

“He’s waiting for you downstairs.” Selene moved closer to her, glancing back at her mother who was sitting in the chair, her arms folded. Ares was sleeping. “What happened?”

“It’s not my place to say,” Kat whispered. “Talk to your mother or Rion. I’ve got to go. Take care of your dad.”

It was clear Selene was not only upset but pissed at her mother. If the woman wasn’t careful, she would lose all her children. If Selene was anything like her brothers, her integrity wouldn’t allow her to be silent.

Kat went down to the entrance and found Wicked waiting for her in his truck. She stepped up to the window. “Luka Borkov is awake. Michael has called me in.”

“Get in and I’ll drive you. Let’s hear what this rebel has to say.”

“Rion—”

“Kat, not now.”

She sighed. His mother had effectively shut him down. She was going to have to work on getting him to talk. It was too important for her to let it drop now. Now that she realized what she had done, and how she had acted, she could only be ashamed of herself.

She pulled open the passenger door and slid onto the seat. Looking in the rearview mirror, her eyes connected with the sleek Judge. Phoenix’s bike. Its name seemed apropos right now.

The ride over was quiet, and it wasn’t long before she found herself sitting across from Luka Borkov again. He looked pale and wrung out. The cut on his temple was stitched.

She was well aware that Michael and Wicked were listening in. She lowered her voice. “Tell me about my abduction,” she said, low and tight. “How did you know I was in Kumma?”

“We got a tip from someone who said you were a CIA operative. We wanted to know who killed Abram Golovkin. We were told it was several Navy SEALs and you. We were embarrassed by our lack of ability to handle our own leader’s security. We needed trophies. You and the SEALs. That’s why we took you and kept you alive.”

“Name.”

“I don’t have one. The voice was disguised.”

She pulled out photos of his family. “Tell me about Amanda.”

He glared at her. “She was nosing around about the warheads, too and we abducted her, attempted to extract information, but she was as stubborn as you.”

“How did you know about Amanda?”

He leaned forward. “Don’t you get it? She was compromised as well as you. Someone wanted those warheads to continue on their merry way.”

“Where did they go? Who bought them!”

“One went to the MBFF, one went to Korea, and the other one to the United States.”

“I’m going to need more information than that.”

“We sold them for cash. We didn’t ask questions.”

“Why would the Koreans want an American ballistic warhead? They have more than enough weapons.”

He shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to cause some international incident, shame, and embarrass Americans. A lot of the world hates you, so it’s anyone’s guess. I can’t be sure.”

“What do you remember about the men who bought them?”

“One was black and had an African accent. The other buyer had a scar on his face. The American buyers…were American. Blond, cocky man, held his gun like a gangster, and the other had dark hair, blue eyes.” He rattled off times and dates when the warheads were sold.

She sat up straighter. Korea was involved with a small African nation—Mobutu. Could there be some tie between the nation and terrorist activity? She closed her folder.

He leaned back, a smug look on his face. “I was supposed to tell you that I have information about your father.”

Her head snapped up, and she lunged across the table at him. He reared back, and the two of them crashed to the floor. She rose up on her knees and grabbed his shirtfront. “I’m not playing games with you,” she shouted.

“Neither am I, but when I got the information I needed about you, I was instructed to tell you that.”

“What do you know?”

The door burst open, and Wicked and Michael came through. Wicked pulled her off him. “Let me go!” She wrestled out of Wicked’s grasp. “I’m calm.” She looked back down at the prisoner and spat, “Tell me.”

“He’s not where you think he is.”

She clenched her teeth. “You son of a bitch.” She bent down. “We’re going to shove you into a deep, dark hole, and you’ll never get out. If you do, you better look over your shoulder.”

“Fuck you. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, lifting her chin. “You should have.”

She left the room and went immediately into research mode. With the day and time of the buy, they accessed satellites. She waited patiently while the CIA analyst retrieved the images. Finally, the grainy picture pulled up, and he zoomed in on two men who had been at the salvage yard, one black and the other one dark-haired with a scar on his face. He looked very familiar to her. Her gut clenched. Where did she know him from?

“Running facial recon,” the analyst said.

The pictures flashed on the screen for a few minutes, Kat’s nerves tighter than a drum. Wicked kept his eyes on the screen, but she could feel his tension.

The pictures stopped flashing on the black man and a name popped up. Vyncent Eze. Not good.

“Damn,” Wicked said.

Then the flashing photos stopped on the second man, and Kat’s blood went cold. As soon as she saw his name, she looked at Michael. “Oh, God,” she said.

Hollywood walked into the ready room, and the only other person sitting in one of the chairs at the table was Dragon. He could smell coffee in the air and decided a cup would go down really good about now.

He had been almost dozing off when he’d received a text to report to the base.

“Hey,” Dragon said, his brows raised. “Were you a bad boy?”

“Every goddamn day,” Hollywood said with a grin.

Dragon laughed and lounged back, setting his feet on the table, raising his fist up for a bump; Hollywood complied. “There’s coffee. I guess we’re waiting.”

“I guess so.” He walked over to the station and poured some into one of the ceramic mugs. Back at the table, he took a seat. “Are you filling in for Kid again?”

“Yeah, he’s on leave, something about his anniversary.”

After a few minutes, Ruckus walked in with Kat, that douche Brandon, Wicked, and Dozer. Their eyes met, and it was clear his friend was on a mission for the DIA, which could only mean one thing. There was the possibility of a buildup of troops, and Dozer was going to assess their organization and firepower.

Hollywood’s eyes narrowed. There was something different about the two of them—Wicked and Kat. They were even more tense than they had ever been, and he believed it had nothing to do with the mission. When would they get a clue and work out their shit?

She looked about as excited as Wicked did at the prospect of working together. That was going to be a ray of fucking sunshine. The other team members filtered in, saying hi to Dragon and getting coffee.

“Geez,” Hollywood said. “I guess there won’t be any unicorn doughnut goodness since Kid’s not here.” Dragon gave him a puzzled look and Cowboy laughed. “I think Wicked should whip some up before each mission, LT. Make that an assignment.”

Ruckus’s mouth lifted slightly, but their banter couldn’t lighten whatever grimness they were going to be briefed on. “Wicked, make those doughnuts mission ready to go.”

Wicked shook his head. “Don’t encourage them, LT.”

“Gentlemen,” Ruckus said, giving Wicked an acknowledging look as Kat dimmed the lights and the screen in front of the room illuminated.

“We’ve had a development connected to one of the warheads, and we’re going to Mobutu.” He turned to Kat. “Miss Harrington.”

“Africa?” Blue asked and sighed. “That place is a hot mess.”

“Yes, it is, Petty Officer Beckett.” She clicked the button in her hand, and a map came up with Mobutu outlined in red. It was nestled in South Africa bordering Angola, Zambia, Namibia, and Botswana. “Mobutu has ties to North Korea.” She met their eyes as she continued, “North Korea makes promises to small nations like Mobutu. They build infrastructure, sell weapons and other military equipment. It’s all about their revenue streams and getting around the United Nations sanctions.”

“North Korea. I knew it,” Hollywood said. “Why the fuck would they need a warhead? They have nuclear weapons.”

When she put up the next slide, Hollywood said, “Dammit!” Everyone sat up straighter and turned to look at him. Hollywood held Kat’s gaze. “Vyncent Fucking Eze. He has the warhead?” Hollywood’s gaze moved to Dozer, who looked like he could chew nails.

“Yes, he bought it from Borkov,” Kat said.

“Did Borkov know who he was dealing with?” Hollywood asked.

“Yes,” Brandon responded.

“Did you bury him in a deep, dark hole?”

“Yes, I did. He will never see his wife or child again.” Kat indicated Eze’s photo. A slender black man, shaved head, hard brown eyes, and a small goatee. “He is the leader of Busa Hamid. He has his hand in many pies, including the sale of blood diamonds. They call him Shindu.”

“It means champion. They also call themselves Tsohe aso okkohe gse hamid. Those who oppose the West,” Hollywood said.

Kat started speaking again. “His mission is to build an Islamic state in the north of Mobutu. He’s from the Santi Tribe, but his followers are from everywhere. He built a mosque and began teaching. They became a jihadist group—”

“Six years ago.” Hollywood’s jaw clenched.

“When he killed everyone on our team except us and a handful of Mobutuan military. It was an ambush,” Dozer said.

“That animal needs to be neutralized,” Hollywood growled.

“Agreed,” Dozer said. “Some of the biggest monsters on the planet were religious leaders.” Dozer stood and paced to the photo, slapping the screen. “There’s plenty of debate about secret military operations since then. But they continue because there is only one way to fight terrorism.”

“Head on,” Hollywood said.

“The military base there remains in full operation, but the CIA base is unknown. That’s where we will be headquartered,” Kat said.

“We leave at 0600,” Ruckus said.

“So, they want the warhead to embarrass us. You think this is retaliation by North Korea for losing face and having to back down in the China Sea over the sanctions?” Tank asked.

“Yes. It’s the assumption the DIA—”

“And the CIA have come to.” Kat finished Dozer’s sentence.

“The DIA has been watching that country. If Eze’s building a secret army, we want to assess it. I’ll be going with you. But we, Hollywood and I, have a score to settle with him,” Dozer said.

“You care to share, Hollywood?” Ruckus asked, knowing full well Hollywood’s background. Hell, Ruckus encouraged him to join the team after that bloodbath in the desert of Mobutu. That mission had been classified, but it had spilled all over the news.

“We were hunting him in the desert, and we were ratted out by a plant in the Mobutuan military. We lost two SEALs and two Rangers along with four Mobutuan soldiers.” Hollywood looked at Dozer, and he nodded. “Dozer was wounded in the shoulder and there was no exfil for six hours. Because of that, he lost motion in it and had to retire from SEAL active service. It got really hairy there, and he saved my life.”

“You took a bullet for me, too, man.”

“Yeah, it was a party,” Hollywood said, looking down. Glances bounced around his team members, and he knew what they were thinking. He was focused on the mission just as intensely as the next man, but they’d had no idea their horn dog, their jokester, their never-serious-a-hole was a bona fide hero.

“Hollywood received the Navy Cross,” Ruckus said. “When the leaders of both groups went down, he took over and saved the rest of the group.”

Each man knew what the Navy Cross stood for; the phrase “distinguish himself in action by extraordinary heroism” was part of the honor of receiving the medal. His face grew hot, which was so damned stupid and even more embarrassing. He’d done what needed to be done. End of story.

“There’s more,” Kat said, her voice going low and grim. “This man was also at the buy.” She clicked, and the photo flicked onto the screen. “This is Dr. Haaris Rafiq. He was educated here in the United States, attended Harvard. He’s brilliant and has been on the UN Board.”

“Educated in what?” Cowboy drawled.

“Nuclear engineering and physics.”