Only when he got up to hop in the shower himself did he remember the paper. Avoiding electronic devices meant no tablets, smartphones, or laptops, so he’d had to go old-school for his news. He opened it to the international section and swore. The image was grainy, but there was no mistaking the face staring back at him. It looked back at him in the mirror every day.
Damn it, Brit! Can’t you just leave it alone?But he knew better than to ask that question. Brittany Blake didn’t leave anything alone.
Not for the first time, Brand’s little sister was making things difficult for him.
•••
John had been on edge all night, but he apparently didn’t have anything to worry about. Either most of the people he hung out with in Levi didn’t pay attention to the news—which was a distinct possibility—or he’d changed so much in five years as to become unrecognizable.
The latter seemed to be the case later that night when he brought Marta back to the house for a little late-night sauna action. One of his favorite things about Finland so far definitely had to be the saunas. They were ubiquitous, seemingly more common than dishwashers. Even apartments had them.
He’d left Marta in the living room while he went to get them something to drink, and when he came back she was watching the news. Unfortunately, it was just as they were running a story—with the damned photo—about the “Lost Platoon.”
Great, it was on the news now. He cursed Brand’s sister again.
Marta’s gaze shifted from the grainy image on the screen to his face.
He held his breath for a good long second before he let it go. Not a flicker. Not even one tiny glimmer of recognition.
With the way she’d been staring at him the past couple days, if she didn’t make the connection, he doubted any of the others would either.
“What do you think happened to them?” she asked in her heavily accented English.
He feigned ignorance. “Who?”
“The Lost Platoon of American soldiers.”
Now, that grated. SEALs were sailors. He shrugged indifferently. “I have no idea. Sounds like a bunch of speculation to me.”
He sat down beside her and handed her the glass ofschnapps. He’d stick to beer. He wasn’t big on the popular liquor, which tasted like and had the consistency of cough syrup.
“The reporter seems pretty convinced. Her brother is one of the men missing.”
John felt the hot pressure building behind his ribs. He didn’t want to talk about this, and he knew just how to end the conversation.
He slid his arm around her shoulders and leaned in close. Her dark eyes widened a little. They were a really pretty golden brown framed with long, thick lashes. She wasn’t his usual type, but he was up for a change. And it was her mouth he was thinking about now. Red and sweet and gently parted—not with another question but with anticipation.
Perfect.
He waited, and she came to him, leaning in ever so slightly until their lips met.
The kiss was long and slow at first, and just getting mildly interesting when he felt a buzzing vibration in his pocket.
John knew exactly who it had to be because no one else had the number. That was some kind of timing. John had just been thinking it was time to move on, and now the LC—Scott Taylor—was calling. Had he figured out who had set them up? Was it time to get back to work?
The relief caused any blood that had been flowing to instantly stop. He pulled away, and Marta made a sound of protest. “Sorry,” he lied. “I gotta take this.”
He stood and dug the phone out of his pants. Flipping it open, he pushed the button to answer it but didn’t say anything until he was in his room with the door closed behind him. “Johnson’s Plumbing.”
The code had been his idea. Yes, he was a child. But with what they did, they needed every little bit of amusement—even the cheap dick-humor kind.
“Next time I’m picking the damned code,” Taylor said. “I’m so tired of hearing that. It wasn’t funny the first time.”
John grinned. It was good to hear the LC’s voice. That he was clearly irritated and short-tempered didn’t bother him—he was usually that way where John was concerned. The LC was always serious. John wasn’t. “Did you figure out the source of the leak? Are we all clear to get back?”
There was a long pause. “Not yet. I’m still working on it.”
John tried not to be disappointed; it wasn’t easy. “What’s up, then?”
