“Hey, man.” Fargo entered the gym, tossing his towel over a bar near the free weights. Another EOD explosives expert, he didn’t talk much, but when he did, people listened. “Heard the prez might have something coming our way real soon.”
Fuse stopped his pull-ups, dropping to the mat. “What else?”
“Nothing more. Admiral Grayson’s people are verifying data.”
“Another terrorist threat?”
“You’ll know when the rest of us do.” Fargo grabbed a weight, lowering himself onto one of several benches. “What I have heard is it’s going to include most of the team.”
Turning back to the pull-up bar, Fuse began again, this time his mind on what might be coming their way. It had been longer than usual since they’d been sent out. At least a month, and most of the men were going stir-crazy.
Even those not selected for an op were busy with communications and logistics. Everyone had a job during each mission.
Finishing, he picked up his towel, wiping it down his face. “Thanks for the heads-up, man.”
Fargo waved him off, returning to his workout.
Standing under the hot spray, Fuse rested an arm against the wall, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on the potential op and what the orders would be. Instead, he thought of Brittany, wondering what she was doing, if she ever thought of him, if she ever regretted ending their relationship.
He doubted it. Brittany might feel some guilt at choosing her family’s status and wealth over a man committed to the Navy, but moving on without him hadn’t appeared to be an issue.
Fuse learned she’d obtained a job as an analyst in the Office of Intelligence and Analysis within the Department of Homeland Security. Bright, motivated, and a perfect fit with those in D.C. who saw themselves as part of the Washington elite, she had goals of becoming one of the nation’s power brokers.
He guessed by now she’d found a kindred spirit in some ambitious attorney or lobbyist, the kind of man her senator father would accept. The thought had a knot twisting in his gut.
Seeing her in Coronado brought up all kinds of memories. Good and bad. If possible, she was more beautiful than when they’d been together, a fact he wanted to forget.
“Fuse.”
He turned, catching the towel Gunner threw at him. “What’s up?”
“Wrath wants us in his office.” He checked his watch. “1400 hours. That’s ten minutes from now.”
Fuse wrapped the towel around his waist, heading to the lockers. “Any clue what it’s about?”
“Nope. See you in ten.”
He followed a few minutes later. The table in the conference room adjoining Wrath’s office was almost full. A folder had been placed in front of each chair. No one had touched it, nor would they until the prez ordered it. Wrath stepped into the room five minutes later, his gaze roaming over his men, who’d stood at his entry.
Commander Caid “Wrath” McCord had been asked to establish the Eternal Brethren years before, selecting men from the ranks of the elite Navy SEAL ranks of DEVGRU, commonly known as SEAL Team Six. The result was the men standing before him.
“Sit.” Waiting until they were settled, he slid back the door on a wall-mounted screen, displaying a large map. Tapping his fingers on one location, he narrowed his gaze on them. “Gentlemen, this is our next op. Austin, Texas.”
Ghost sat up straighter, while Fuse muttered a curse. Both had family near Austin. Ghost’s lived on a large ranch less than two hours north of Austin, and Fuse’s lived on a ranch in Bandera at the south end of the Hill Country.
“Admiral Grayson has received confirmed intelligence that one of ISIS’s top deputies is working in Austin. Abu Abdul al-Assid.”
“Damn. Do they have confirmed sightings?” Ghost’s gut churned.
“He’s working as a professor at the University of Texas. One of his colleagues had suspicions about him. He took it to the dean of their department, but nothing was done. He finally took it to a friend at Homeland Security in D.C. who met with SECNAV, the director of the FBI, and Grayson. The president of the university has been contacted and he’s provided his complete support.”
Fuse lifted his gaze from the file. “Our orders?”
“We deploy in twenty-four hours. Time to get down to business, gentlemen.”
Office of Intelligence & Analysis
Washington D.C.
“You have a delivery, Ms. Blackmore.” Brittany looked up from her computer, seeing flowers over the top of the cubicle. A moment later, one of the department assistants appeared with a vase holding a dozen roses.
“Set them here and thanks for bringing them to me.” Her stomach roiled at the deep red of the petals.
She knew who they were from without looking. As soon as no one was paying attention, she’d shuttled them to the women’s restroom for a place of honor in the trash.
Ever since she’d caught Carl with his pants down humping his young intern, she’d shoved him from her life, ignoring his feeble attempts to apologize. The senior lobbyist was eight years her senior, divorced without children. They’d been together less than a year when she walked into his office. Disgusted at the sight, she’d quietly closed the door and left.
It took Carl two days to realize she wasn’t returning his calls, texts, or emails for a reason. Most times, he seemed more of a companion than lover. In fact, he hadn’t shown much interest in a while. The reason was no longer a surprise.
She’d gotten over him within days. Two weeks later, he still sent flowers, candy, jewelry, and long notes of apology. Brittany threw out the flowers and notes, ate the candy, and tucked away the jewelry for later use. If he was stupid enough to send it, she was smart enough to keep it.
The phone rang, as it always did after the delivery of one of his unending mea culpas. As always, she ignored it, refocusing on her computer screen.
The thrill of her job had worn off a long time ago. She’d had two promotions in three years, knew her work was important, but the joy had evaporated early on. It wasn’t so much boring as too far away from where she wanted to be.
Slipping the phone from her purse, she called a private number, relieved when the woman answered.
“Hello, Brittany. I was hoping to hear from you today.”
“Senator. I apologize for not responding sooner.”
“Do you have a decision for me?”
Brittany thought of her parents, their disappointment at learning her new direction. For once, she’d ignored what they wanted. It was time she took control of her own life, went after what was important to her.
“I’d be honored to be your chief of staff, Senator.”
“Excellent, Brittany. Do you have time for dinner with me tonight? We can complete any final details, such as your travel schedule between D.C. and Arizona.”
“Perfect.”
“Shall we say eight o’clock at Fiola’s?”
“I’m looking forward to it, Senator.”
Hanging up, she stared at the phone. She’d done it. Finally took action on what she’d learned over hours of digging through documents and working with a good friend who had the ability to hack into secure databases. They discovered secrets she doubted even her father knew.
Standing, she straightened her skirt before walking past the other cubicles to her boss’s office.