Navy SEAL Newlywed. Elle James
about your winnings?” she said.
He scooped up enough tokens for two full cups, carried them over to a gray-haired senior citizen and dumped them into her slot machine tray. “Congratulations, you’re a winner.” He kissed the woman’s cheek, grabbed his contact’s hand and headed for the door.
The woman whose hand he held hurried to keep up with him in her bright red cowboy boots. “You were playing the dollar slots.”
“So?” he countered.
“That was probably a couple hundred dollars.”
“Then that woman will go home happy.”
He tipped his baseball cap lower over his forehead, slid his arm around her waist and smiled down at her as he stepped out into the sauna-like Mississippi late afternoon sunshine. “Where’s your car?”
“This way.” She guided him to the parking lot and stopped beside a large black 4x4 truck with twenty-inch rims and tinted windows.
“Seriously?” Rip shook his head. “This is yours?”
“One of the perks of working for Hank Derringer. That and an arsenal of every weapon you could possibly need.” When she hit the key fob, the engine started and the doors unlocked. She opened the driver’s side door and nodded to the passenger seat. “Hop in.”
“How do I know you really work for Hank?”
“You don’t. But has anyone else shown up and told you he’s your contact?”
“No.”
“You have that.” She raised her eyebrows, the saucy expression doing funny things to his insides. “So, do you trust me, or not?”
His lips curled upward on the ends. “I’ll go with not.”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart.” She batted her pretty green eyes and gave him a sexy smile. “What’s not to trust?”
His gaze scraped over her form. “I expected a cowboy, not a…”
“Cowgirl?” Her smile sank and she slipped into the driver’s seat. “I grew up on a ranch, I’ve worked with cattle and horses and I know the value of a hard day’s work. I spent eight years with the FBI. I also know right from wrong and tend to be loyal to a fault, until the person or organization I believe in breaks my trust.” Her lips firmed into a straight line. “Are you coming or not? If you’re dead set on a cowboy, I’ll contact Hank and tell him to send a male replacement. But then he’d have to come up with another plan.”
Rip considered her words and then acknowledged he didn’t have a lot of choices with only a couple of week’s reprieve before he had to turn up alive or be buried by the government. He rounded the front of the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. “I’ll go along for the ride and maybe you can convince me you’re up for the challenge.”
“Please. I don’t normally have to justify my existence to the people I work with. I’m a trained operative. I don’t need this assignment. However, from what Hank told me, you need all the help you can get.”
“I’m interested in how you and Hank plan to provide that help. Frankly, I’d rather my SEAL team had my six.”
“Yeah, but you’re deceased. Using your SEAL team would only alert your assassin that you aren’t as dead as the Navy claims you are. How long do you think you’ll last once that bit of news leaks out?”
His lips pressed together. “I’d survive.”
“By going undercover? Then you still won’t have the backing of your team, and we’re back to the original plan.” She grinned. “Me.”
Rip sighed. “Fine. I want to head back to Honduras and trace the weapons back to where they’re coming from. What’s Hank’s plan?”
“For me to work with you.” She pulled a large envelope from between her seat and the console and handed it across to him. “Everything we need is in that packet. Passports, cash, credit cards and new identities. We also have at our disposal Hank’s jet, a Citation X, capable of cruising at Mach 0.9, almost the speed of sound. Say the word and we can be in the sky within twenty minutes. It’s waiting at the airport.”
Monahan had only good things to say about Hank and all he could do for the operation, otherwise Rip would have been more hesitant getting the billionaire involved. With a DEA agent and one of his SEAL teammates dead, and himself almost killed, he was determined to find the one responsible. But after losing one of his SEAL brothers, he was hesitant about getting anyone else caught in the crosshairs. “Hank sure pulled all of this together fast.”
The woman’s lips tilted up briefly as she drove out onto the street. “Hank has resources most people don’t. Not even the government.”
Rip riffled through the contents of the packet, glancing at a passport with his picture on it as well as a name he’d never seen. “Chuck Gideon?”
“Better get used to it.”
“Speaking of names…we’ve already kissed and you haven’t told me who you are.” Rip glanced her way briefly.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips firmed. “No, I haven’t.”
“Is it a secret? Do you have a shady past or are you related to someone important.”
“For this mission, I’m related to someone important.” She twisted her lips and sent a crooked grin his way. “You. For the purpose of this operation, you can call me Phyllis. Phyllis Gideon. I’ll be your wife.”
Tracie Kosart had recognized the man in the casino immediately from the photo Hank Derringer had given her and realized that could be a problem. Even with his shaggy long hair, the breadth of his shoulders, the stubborn set of his chin and the steely look in his gray-blue eyes set him apart from the other gamblers there hoping to score a big win.
Though he’d been slouching on the stool, he looked as if he could spring into action at a moment’s notice. Now as he sat opposite her in the interior of her truck, he filled the space, his shoulders seeming to block her entire view.
“Phyllis, huh?” He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t look like a Phyllis.”
“It doesn’t matter.” When he looked at her so intently, it made her body heat and her belly tighten.
“Missy?”
“What?”
“Jasmine, Lois, Penelope? I could list names all day.” He pinned her with his stare, a sassy smirk on his face. “You might as well tell me.”
“Penelope?” She shot a glance at him, her mouth twitching as she fought a smile. “You think I look like a Penelope?”
“Some parents have a sense of humor.” He raised his brows. “Well?”
She sighed. “Tracie. My name’s Tracie Kosart.”
“That’s better.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Tracie. And by the way, the name fits you better than Phyllis.”
She took one hand off the steering wheel to shake his, an electrical surge racing up her arm from their joined fingers. Tracie yanked her hand back and wrapped it tightly around the steering wheel, willing the surge of fiery heat to fade.
“You and Derringer seem to have this all worked out.” Rip leaned back in his set. “Where to first?”
“We’ve looked over all the photos the dead agent left you, along with the after-action report from the extraction operation and we really don’t have much to go on. Yes, they prove the terrorists are receiving American-made weapons in World Health Organization boxes.