“What the hell, Brittany? You shouldn’t be driving through a place like that by yourself at night, let alone sitting in your damned car for God knows how long!”
She’d tried to explain to him that it went with the job, but he hadn’t been in the mood to hear it. As they didn’t see eye to eye on many of the finer points of her being ajournalist—or the bigger points, for that matter—she’d let it go. But she knew she couldn’t do that forever, and at some point they were going to have to talk about it. Being a reporter was important to her. As important as being a SEAL was to him. If they were going to have any chance, they needed to figure out a way to deal with that. She didn’t have to like what he did any more than he had to like what she did, but they needed to respect each other’s jobs.
She’d also had an earful about her visit from Mac, which he’d apparently been briefed on by the guy in the stairwell before he entered the apartment. She’d let him bellow, knowing it would make him feel better. He’d needed to let off some steam. He was too wound up. Which was still almost surreal to think about. John Donovan. Wound up. Because of her. Who would have thought?
John waited for the car to stop before he asked, “See anything?”
She bent down and pretended to fiddle with the radio before responding, “Not yet.”
“Okay, but stay—” He stopped all of a sudden.
She didn’t need to ask why. “Frosty,” she finished for him, her voice soft and gentle.
John didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. She knew what he was thinking. The familiar saying had resurrected her brother between them. No doubt John was feeling guilty again, blaming himself for getting her into this mess. But it had been her decision.
“I’m sure,” she said, anticipating his next question. It was the same thing he’d asked half a dozen times since they’d gotten in the car:“Are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to back out.”
John made a not-so-happy grunt. “If you see anything that doesn’t look right, let me know right away.”
She listened as he made radio contact with the men surrounding them. It had been a shock to see him allgeared up. Though he wasn’t in a uniform, the dark ball cap and clothing, earpiece, armored vest stuffed with gear, and gun had given her a good idea of what he must look like when he went on an op.
When he’d walked out of her bathroom, it had taken her aback. The grim-faced mercenary didn’t look anything like the laid-back surfer. She knew how big and strong he was physically, but kitted out G.I. Joe John was a very different kind of big and strong.
It was a little intimidating.
And a lot sexy. Awholelot sexy. Which, given her feelings about his being a SEAL, was unexpected. But primitive instincts were primitive instincts, and hers had gone a little hog wild. She’d wanted to drag him right back in that bedroom and strip him down piece by piece. Or maybe she’d just let him take her while he was all kitted out.
Was she messed up or what?
She adjusted the vest he’d made her put on, which was bulky, heavy, and uncomfortable. “I can’t imagine running or walking long distances in one of these things.”
“Try dropping out of an airplane, fast-roping down from a hovering helicopter, or swimming a few miles in one. But those plates have saved my life more than once.”
She didn’t like to think about him being shot at. Nor did she really want to think about herself being shot at. It was just a precaution, he’d told her when he handed it to her. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Of course, it would be useless against a shot to the head, which was probably not something she should be thinking about right now.
Knowing they shouldn’t talk too much in case someone was watching them from afar, Brittany sat quietly watching the clock creep forward minute by minute. It was 10:17. Seventeen minutes after the appointed time and nearly a half hour since she’d parked. The wait was agonizing and interminable.
What if they didn’t show up? What if this was all for nothing? What if...?
She jumped when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. “What should I do?”
“Answer it,” John said.
“Hello?”
“Finally! I was beginning to think you disappeared on me.”
She recognized the voice and cursed silently. “Hey, Mick. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you, but it’s not a good time right now.”
John said something she was sure she didn’t want to hear, and she was glad he wasn’t sitting next to her.
“Sorry to call so late, but I’m just checking to make sure we are still on for tomorrow night?” Mick said. “I thought we could go to that new Italian restaurant in Georgetown.”
Brittany didn’t get a chance to respond. At that moment all hell broke loose in front of her. She could hear the quick exchange of voices through John’s earpiece. The men who’d been watching from the shadows poured out into the street and dragged someone from what looked like an abandoned car parked next to the building opposite her.
John was already out of the car. Brittany paused long enough to tell Mick she would have to call him back, but then she was right behind him.
