She’d already given up the most important thing in her life and her soul felt hollow, ringing empty and cavernous inside her. Bates had robbed her of that joy, the pleasure she would have had if she’d met Hemingway…before. Before he’d twisted her up inside with the need for vengeance.
Was revenge more potent than love?
Was it? Because she was beginning to believe that turning over all she had against Bates would make her feel better. He would still be breathing while her sister was dead, but there would be justice. He would be humiliated, his career destroyed, prosecuted, and incarcerated. Was that enough for what he had taken away from Maddy?
All she knew was her cold, rational need for revenge was getting eaten away by what she felt for Hemingway. Even after eighteen months of not seeing him, hearing his voice, just the memory of his smile would make her second guess what had been so easy to envision before she walked into that bar and her life had changed.
Her undercover assignment had been empty, the loneliness eating at her. She couldn’t make real friends, confide in anyone. There were some nights where she ached so much, alcohol was the only answer. Then she’d called him, drunk and just needing to hear his voice. He didn’t pick up and the next morning, she’d vowed never to drink again.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel. God, what if she was holding on to revenge as a way to keep her sister alive? If she let this all go, she would have to face up to Maddy’s death, face it and mourn her. Instead of the black hate in her heart, there would be so much grief and sorrow.
Wrapped in all of this was the unrelenting fear that she’d lost Jason as well. He’d been missing for so long, but the stubborn in her held out. She couldn’t lose her brother too. He had to be alive, and she knew in her heart there had to be some explanation as to why he’d disappeared. Jason was like Hemingway in every way, loyal, tough, noble, and humble. He loved the Corps and would never have abandoned it, unless…she couldn’t finish that thought.
Everything would hinge on this mission she was getting ready to take. Either she’d kill Bates in cold blood, or she wouldn’t. At this point, she didn’t know how she wanted that to play out.
Paraguayan Air Force Base, Luque, Paraguay
Shea had been at the base waiting for Bates to land for two days. They had given her a single barracks room, usually reserved for officers. There weren’t many women on the base, and she stuck out like a sore thumb.
She’d had a headache at the base of her skull ever since she found out Bates was going to be here. The tendons in her head and shoulders were as tight as guitar strings. To say she didn’t trust him was a woeful understatement, but she’d make a deal with the devil to find Jason. That’s what mattered now.
The aide assigned to her spoke broken English. “Airport, señorita, por favor.”
Her shoulders tightened and she groaned, rubbing at her neck. He was flying in and the bastard wanted her to meet him there?”
“Lead the way,” she said, working at not taking her nasty mood out on the poor guy.
He nodded vigorously and smiled wide. “This way.”
Sticking her hands in her pockets, she followed him with her head down as they got into a jeep and drove toward the airport runway. When they stopped, it took all her composure to keep her anger and hatred in check. This was going to be a performance of a lifetime.
She got out of the jeep when it stopped and followed Juan.
But when she looked up, her heart jumped into her throat, elation pushed out all the anger and hate. It was Fast Lane’s team who was disembarking, not Bates. When she saw him, her knees buckled a little bit.
Hemingway.
She stared at him, dazed for a moment. It was so good to see him. His blond hair was quite a bit longer and unruly, and she had no idea it tended to curl when it got long, glinting in the sun like liquid gold. Not the SEAL look she remembered. The barely-there stubble on his face added a sexy ruggedness, accentuating his strong jaw.
He looked so good dressed in his tack gear, like he was fresh from another fight. Her heart suspended as she watched him walk, shouldering his pack and talking to Mad Max.
Then finally he looked toward her, and his steps faltered. He stared for a few long seconds as Max’s gaze landed on her. The knowing, slight upturn of Max’s mouth made her want to flip him off. Inside she was jumping for joy. Hemingway was here, and it seemed as if everything would be all right. The tension drained out of her.
He saw her, knew her and he made her feel like she existed, not floating between identities and missions.
Since he’d stopped moving, Fast Lane reached her first. “Special Agent Palmer. Fancy meeting you here.”
For a moment, she couldn’t form words, then she broke eye contact with him reluctantly. “Especially when I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We were requested by the agency. We’ve been in the area before on a protection detail.”
“Same old same?” She smiled.
“Something like that. I hear you’ve got some jarheads missing.”
“Three to be exact. Let’s get out of the heat, and I’ll brief you guys.” She turned to her guide and said. “Lead the way, Juan.”
The guide stared at her until she heard Hemingway’s deep voice say in flawless Spanish, “Liderar el camino, Juan.”
The sound of his deep voice rippled through her, and she had to take a quick breath. Juan bobbed his head and said enthusiastically. “Si, this way.”
She hadn’t noticed there were other jeeps following. Hemingway got into the back seat of her vehicle along with Max and Jugs. The other six SEALs piled in and they headed back to the main base. She could feel him behind her, her awareness of him reverberating like a tuning fork.
He had something that weakened her. Not so much his looks. She’d been around hundreds of handsome dangerous men. Maybe it was just unexplainable, that confidence, power and leadership that some men possessed to the maximum degree. It just oozed out of their pores.
Juan took her to the briefing room the Paraguayan commander had designated for this operation. There was a screen, a long, wide conference table, computers, a map and phones. Everything they needed.
They took their seats while Max grabbed one of the bottled waters, pouring it into Jugs’s mouth. The Malinois lapped noisily then Max drained the rest of the water.
She stood at the front of the room while they seated themselves. As soon as they had settled, she clicked the screen on and put up a photo array.
“This is Sergeant Brenden Hanson, Lance Corporal Thomas Schellenberg and Lance Corporal Joe Taggert. They came into Paraguay two weeks ago, telling customs it was a sightseeing trip.” She advanced to the next picture, barely keeping her attention on what she was doing. It was so unprofessional, the first time in her career. “But I traced them to this…uh…outdoor store where they bought tents, climbing ropes, and camping gear.” She advanced again to their rental car, heat infusing her skin. She felt as if she was going to go mad. “I scouted the area where they left their car, and there was no sign of them. The local farmer who I talked to told me that they were treasure hunting.”
She set down the clicker and took a breath. “Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. Hemingway, could I have a moment of your time in private?”