Elle James - Navy SEAL Newlywed

“Yeah,” Tracie said, her ire up. “I don’t need you or any other man telling me what is too dangerous for me. We go in together or, if you think it’s too dangerous, I’ll go alone.”

Tracie stared at Rip, holding his gaze, daring him to try to override her decision.

Finally, Rip shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

“That plan is not in my books.” Tracie aimed for confident, when inside she wasn’t quite as certain. The kidnapping in Mexico had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

“Then you’re deluding yourself. You’re headed right into trouble.”

Her chin tilted upward. “That’s my choice.”

The flight attendant appeared. “If you would fasten your seat belts, we can get underway.”

Rip frowned into the screen. “How do you propose the two of us sneak into the terrorist camp?”

“I’ve got that covered. You will be the guests of a friend of mine.” Hank grinned. “You’re honeymooners, I’m sure they have tourists wander off the beaten path on occasion. And Rip you will be especially prone to wandering off. Your cover is a wealthy entrepreneur looking for potential investment property.”

“On my honeymoon?”

“My contact has the story spreading already. You’re notorious for your arrogance and disregard for anyone but yourself.”

Rip snorted. “I’m an entrepreneur in a violent, nearly lawless country?”

Tracie’s brows rose. “Are you afraid?”

He met her stare with his own, his lips firmly set into a straight line. “Not for me. If you recall, I’ve been there. I know what the terrorists are capable of.”

“Then you’ll be the best guide to get us back in there.” Tracie nodded at Hank. “We’re good to go.”

Hank tipped his head. “Glad to see you two agreeing. Your flight plan has been filed. Brandon tells me you’re number three in line to take off. My contact, Hector DeVita, will greet you on his private landing strip. I’m sending two of my best bodyguards from CCI to provide some backup. They should arrive soon after you.”

“Only two?” Rip’s lips thinned. “Honduras is overrun with rebels, terrorists and guerillas, and you’re sending only two of your best bodyguards for us?”

Hank smile. “DeVita will augment with several men of his own. He’s in the security business, providing bodyguards and human shields to the wealthier members of Honduras’s population. The plane you’re on is fully equipped with an arsenal of weapons you might familiarize yourself with.”

Tracie harrumphed. “Some honeymoon.”

“Nothing but the best for my baby,” Rip winked at her.

“Good luck, you two. Make use of the satellite phone if things get tough. I’ll answer at any hour.”

When the call ended, Rip stared across at Tracie. “I felt better going in under the cover of dark with my SEAL team.”

“What? You’re not up for a frontal assault in full daylight with only a girl as your sidekick?” She leaned back in her chair. “No guts, no glory.”

The giant hangar door opened to let in the afternoon glare. The plane taxied out into the sunshine. Within minutes, they were in the air, winging their way to Honduras.

Tracie closed her eyes. “You might as well get some rest. Once we hit the ground in Honduras, we’ll need all our faculties to pull off this information-gathering honeymoon.”

Once they had serial numbers or even a manifest, they might have a chance of tracing the weapons back to those in the United States who had sold them. Nothing like barreling into a potentially hostile situation pretending to be a newlywed couple to get your adrenaline pumping.

Knowing they were headed into a hotbed of danger in the steamy Central American jungles of Honduras didn’t stop a chill from slipping across Tracie’s skin.

Whatever happened, she refused to be taken captive ever again. If the terrorists wanted her, they’d have to kill her before she’d surrender.

RIP REMAINED AWAKE, studying all the information they had on the case. He reviewed every photograph to glean as much insight as possible from the details in the images they’d obtained from Franks…everything from the faces to the crates of weapons.

After the botched retrieval of the DEA agent by SBT-22, the terrorist camp had probably moved to another location, taking advantage of the jungle’s canopy for concealment from satellite photography. Finding them would be a challenge.

Beside him, Tracie had leaned back in the contoured seat with her eyes closed, the steady rise and fall of her chest letting Rip know she’d fallen asleep.

His attention shifted from the computer to the sleeping woman beside him.

Her long, soft brown hair fanned out around her shoulders, and her dark brown lashes made shadowy crescents against her cheeks. Apparently, she was caught in a not-so-pleasant dream. She shivered again and whimpered.

Her eyelids twitched, her eyes beneath them darting back and forth. Her fingers clenched the armrests and a tremor shook her body. Rip motioned to the flight attendant to bring a blanket. He took it from her and laid it across Tracie his hand finding hers.

She let go of the armrest, fingers curling around his, squeezing so tightly she nearly cut off his circulation.

“Tracie,” Rip whispered. “Wake up.”

Her head turned from side to side and she whimpered again.

“Tracie, wake up.” Rip made his entreaty more forceful. He didn’t like seeing her in such distress. What kind of dream was it to make her so upset?

When she still didn’t wake, he leaned forward and captured her face between his palms. “Tracie, it’s okay. You’re just dreaming.”

The CCI agent’s eyes blinked open, the startling green of them piercing Rip through the heart with the anguish reflected in them. She stared around at the interior of the plane. “What…where?” She shook her head and her gaze locked with Rip’s.

He stroked his thumbs across her cheek. “Remember me? I’m your husband.” He winked and pressed a kiss to her forehead, liking the sound of the word on his lips. What would it be like to be Tracie’s husband? “You were having a bad dream.” He leaned back, letting go of her face.

Tracie touched her fingers to the place he’d kissed and frowned. “Oh, it’s you.” Dragging in a shaky breath, she let it go slowly and sat up. “I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot where I was.”

“I take it you weren’t in such a good place in your dream.” He tucked the blanket in around her sides.

Sitting up, Tracie adjusted her seat to an upright position and pulled the blanket up to her chin, her body trembling. “It was only a dream. How long have we been flying?”

“Two and a half hours.”

“That long?” She pushed her hair back from her face and slipped an elastic band around the thick hank, securing it in a ponytail at her nape. “I must have needed the sleep. What about you? Did you rest?”

“I can rest when we solve this case, and I can return to the land of the living.”

Tracie’s lips twisted. “I know this must be difficult for you to play dead and alive at the same time. Hopefully, we’ll get in, get out and the terrorists will be none the wiser.”

Rip snorted. “That’s what we planned when we went in to get Greer out.” He glanced out the window into the clear blue sky. “That’s not quite how it worked.” Gosling’s wife had been devastated when she’d gotten the news of his death. She’d almost lost the baby.

Tracie laid her hand on his arm. “We’ll do the best we can. You should get some rest.”

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “What were you dreaming about when I woke you?”