Elle James - Navy SEAL Newlywed

The massive breadth of Rip’s shoulders gave her a modicum of confidence. At least he was capable of defending himself and possibly her, if hand-to-hand combat became necessary.

Outside in the parking lot, Rip hit the unlock button on the key fob. A nondescript gray economy car’s lights blinked and the vehicle let out a mechanical beep.

Thankfully, the car was parked at the side of the building, not in clear view of the lobby or the hotel manager, and hopefully out of range of security cameras.

Without wasting time, Rip dove into the car and thoroughly searched the interior before he gave up and popped the lock on the trunk. It was empty.

“Check under the mat where the spare tire and tools are located,” Tracie suggested.

His hand already skimming over the edges of the trunk lining, Rip found the tab to pull it upward. Beneath the felt-covered liner was a large envelope tucked next to the spare.

A siren sounded in the distance. Tracie’s pulse leaped. “Grab it and let’s get out of here. We don’t know if that siren is headed this way.”

Rip grabbed the packet, dropped the car keys on the ground nearby and peeled off the gloves, tucking them into his pocket.

Rip put his arm around Tracie, tucking the package between them as they made their way toward the limousine the driver had parked in the far corner of the hotel parking lot.

With Rip so close, Tracie had a hard time concentrating and she stumbled.

Rip’s hand on her arm steadied her. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Which is more than I can say for Franks.” Before Rip could reach for the back door, the driver hopped out and opened the door for Tracie. Rip helped her into her seat, leaning across to slide the package onto the seat beside her. In the process, he stole a kiss.

Startled by the feel of his lips on hers, Tracie froze, her mouth tingling, her hands pressed to her chest to still her furiously beating heart.

When Rip rounded to the other side of the vehicle and slid in beside her, his jaw tight.

“Was the kiss necessary?” she whispered.

“It was part of our cover,” he said, his lips twitching in the corners.

“Well, warn me next time,” Tracie muttered.

“Sorry, I thought you’d want me to act like the lovesick bridegroom.”

He had a point. He also had her trembling, and that just wouldn’t do.

He winked at her and glanced at the driver. “For now, just get us away from the hotel.”

The driver nodded and shifted gears, setting the limo into motion.

Rip pressed a button and the privacy window between the driver and the passengers slid upward.

As soon as they were back on the main road and Tracie was certain they weren’t being followed, she opened the packet and peered inside.

“What’s in it?” Rip cast a quick glance her way.

“Photos and some printouts from the internet.” Tracie thumbed through the contents.

“Photos of?” Rip queried.

“People. They appear to be Latino.” She handed one to him. The image was at an odd angle, as if whoever had taken it hadn’t been focusing on the subject. “This is marked as Juan Villarreal.”

Rip’s eyes narrowed and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Villarreal was the leader of the terrorist camp we raided in order to free the DEA agent. He’s the one in charge of the group using the US-supplied weapons. The photos are probably more of those taken by Greer while he was embedded. I’m surprised they made it all the way to his boss in the States. I had the feeling the flash drive he gave me before he died was all the evidence he managed to get out. Find anything else?”

“More photos and a hand-drawn map.” Tracie pulled the map out of the packet and unfolded it in her lap.

Rip leaned over the map. “Looks like the layout of the camp before we raided. I don’t think it will do much good now.”

“Maybe not, but the photos might help.” Tracie gathered the information and slid it back into the packet. “We need to get this information to Hank and let him run it through his computers.”

“And how will we do that?” Rip asked.

“Back at the airport. Everything we need is on the airplane.”

Rip studied the controls on the armrest and hit the one marked mic. “Driver, take us back to the airport.”

“Yes, Mr. Gideon,” the chauffeur responded.

Tracie shot a brief text message to Hank telling him what had happened and to clear the hotel’s video feeds of their images.

They arrived at the hangar within minutes and entered the big space where the airplane sat waiting for them.

An attendant hurried over to them, “We’ve topped off the fuel and checked all fluid levels. As soon as the chauffeur indicated you were on your way back to the airport, the pilot conducted all preflight inspections and is ready to file a flight plan.”

As they approached the aircraft, the steps were lowered. Tracie climbed aboard first, followed by Rip. The flight attendant secured the door behind them. Tracie led the way to the middle of the plane where she flipped one of the tabletops open, revealing a computer screen. She tapped several keys, and in moments she had Hank’s face up on the screen. “Hank, we’re back on board the Freedom Flight .”

“Glad you’re safely aboard. Brandon wiped the security video of any images including you and Schafer.”

“Good. I’m not certain how soon the body will be discovered. Your help with the security footage should give us some time to get out of Atlanta. We found some data in the DEA boss’s vehicle. I’m scanning it now.”

She raised another part of the table, revealing a computer scanner, and fed the documents they’d found in the DEA agent’s vehicle into the machine.

Hank’s attention shifted to something beside his monitor. “Got them. I’ll have Brandon double check the identities of the men in the photos. But I can’t move on nailing the suppliers of the weapons until we have some serial numbers.”

Rip frowned and leaned close to Tracie so that he could see and be seen by Hank. “The only way to get serial numbers is to go back to Honduras and get them off the guns.”

Hank nodded. “Afraid so.”

Rip’s gaze captured Tracie’s and then returned to Hank. “She can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous.”

Hank’s brows rose. “Miss Kosart’s a trained professional. She knows the risks.”

“Look, frogman, I can speak for myself.” Tracie shoved him aside. “I’m on board. So we’re headed to Honduras as planned?”

Hank smiled. “You can opt out, if you feel it’s too dangerous for your liking?”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” she said, her lips thinning.

“Exactly. You might not want to go to that extreme again. The men in that terrorist camp are pure evil and have little regard for women.”

“Hank’s right,” Rip confirmed. “It’s not a good place for a woman.”

“Or a man.” Tracie crossed her arms. “If we don’t go in for the additional information, how will we stop whoever it is selling American weapons to terrorists?”

Rip opened his mouth to say something, but the stubborn set of Tracie’s chin made him realize he wouldn’t get her to change her mind. Instead, he turned to Hank. “I won’t be able to focus on the mission if I’m worried my partner can’t keep up or will be captured and tortured.”

“She’s your partner. We can’t activate your SEAL unit and send them in again. They’ve been in once and that got one of your men killed. Someone is dirty on the Fed side. Until we find that person, we can’t count on the secrecy of the operation if we involve your unit or any other government agency.”

“I trust my brothers.”

“So did Gosling.” Hank stared straight into Rip’s eyes. “Tracie can handle it.”