When they’d first met, he’d assumed she was like all the other power-hungry political brokers in Washington who were interested only in what he could do for her. Which was why it was so surprising when he told her he was a navy seaman on temporary leave visiting a friend at Walter Reed—which also happened to be true—that she seemed almost relieved. Her claim to be “an assistant” didn’t seem out of line with his first impressions, and he assumed she worked for someone on the Hill.
But after forty-eight hours of virtually nonstop sex, he realized how wrong he had been when he walked into op brief at the Pentagon and the woman he’d left tousled and limp from lovemaking in bed that morning was sitting next to the deputy secretary of defense.
She didn’t hide her shock as well as he did—or her anger—on learning that her “seaman” visiting a friend at the hospital was actually lieutenant commander of the president’s favorite secret SEAL team.
Later, when he cornered her after the meeting as she came out of the ladies’ room, she had accused him oflying to her and told him she never wanted to see him again. Oddly, she’d seemed almost frightened.
He’d wanted to argue but knew she was right. Anything between them was impossible. Guys on Team Nine weren’t supposed to have girlfriends, let alone one who was so highly connected in the Pentagon. A relationship between them would have gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl, as Travis liked to say. The government didn’t like when high security clearances mixed.
Scott had thought she’d meant it until she turned up at his hotel room later that night with something else clearly in mind. He knew he should back away, but with that sleek, sexy body pressed up against his, he found himself pushing her forward... onto the bed.
He’d returned to Honolulu the next day, but he’d come back to DC a few weeks later. He told himself it was to check in on Kate, who had recently gotten engaged—an engagement that had ended recently, not long after Colt had reappeared in her life—but when Natalie walked into the bar where they first met, he realized how much he’d been lying to himself.
That had been almost nine months ago. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her for the next six months—until he’d deployed for the Russia mission. And the knowledge of how easily he’d slid into her trap still infuriated him.
“What are you going to do?” Kate asked, referring to the subject at hand, that of his uncommunicative operator.
Scott had been thinking about that the past couple of days. “I’m going to see if Colt can track Travis down. Have you heard from him?”
Kate tried to hide it, but Scott could see her muscles tense. “Why would I have heard from Colt? He and I have nothing left to say to one another.”
Scott doubted that Kate believed that any more than he did. “I thought he might have tried to apologize.”
“Apologize?” she scoffed. “You know him better than that. Colt doesn’t apologize; he attacks. He’s been doing it since he was a kid. What’s that adage they use in football? The best defense is a good offense.”
It was a military adage as well, known as the strategic offensive principle of war, and it summed up Colt to a T.
Scott looked at the tired face that was so like his own and tried to think of what to say. In retrospect, it was amazing that it had taken them so long to figure out that they were related. The resemblance between them was pronounced. His hair was a darker shade of blond, maybe, but they had the same color blue eyes, straight noses, and similarly shaped mouths.
But despite their parents’ knowing each other when they were younger, it had never occurred to him that her father could have been the man his mother had the affair with until Colt had angrily referred to them as “Ken and Barbie Country Club Edition.” Suddenly Scott had seen what he’d never noticed before. The odd nonsexual closeness he’d felt instantly with her suddenly made sense. A later blood test had confirmed what by then he already guessed: Kate was his half sister.
Scott wished he could say something to make it better for her, but Kate and Colt were going to have to figure it out on their own.
If they figured it out at all.
“Do you know where I can reach him?” Scott asked.
“I have a number, but you’ll probably get ahold of him faster if you go to McNally’s. My guess is he’s been spending the past week with his head in a bottle and listening to Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ on the jukebox, which is the only song that ever seems to be playing there.”
She was probably right but Scott left a message for him anyway, telling him to call him back and that it was important.
He was going to call it a night but decided to finishgoing through the various social media accounts of the dozens of Facebook friends on Natalie’s account. He was lucky it wasn’t hundreds. The account had been active for only about a month before she’d apparently decided better of it.
He wasn’t surprised. No social media was Spy 101. Operators in Team Nine weren’t supposed to have any—even accounts under false names or aliases. Ghosts couldn’t leave a footprint.
About an hour later, Kate pushed back from her chair. “You almost done? You might not need it, but some of us actually have to sleep a few hours a night.”
They had been burning the midnight oil. “Almost.” He’d gone through the names alphabetically and was almost finished. “I just have a few more names.”
Kate rolled her eyes, as if she’d heard that one before. “I’m going to get some coffee. But we’re shutting it down in an hour. Your shoulder needs rest even if you don’t.”
His wound was healing just fine, but he knew better than to argue with her. Last time that had forced him to sit through her changing the dressing—again. Which, as she didn’t have much nursing skill and insisted on following instructions off the Internet, was a prolonged experience.
He was on the last name of his list when she came back in the room. A few minutes later, he jolted up in his chair. “Bingo!”
Kate looked over. “I take it you found something?”
Scott turned the screen that he’d been working on toward her.
