For a SEAL undercover on a top conspiracy, attraction could be dangerous…

Raised on a ranch and trained as a Navy SEAL, Benjamin “Montana” Raines has a work ethic that’s unshakable—even in the midst of a beautiful and jaded CIA operative. A dangerous conspiracy threatens the United States, and Benjamin has a new case. And a new partner.

Kate McKenzie has been burned before. And now she is paired with someone she’s supposed to trust against her deeper instincts. In the cutthroat world of millionaires and politicians in Washington, DC, Kate and Benjamin must go undercover to prevent an attack. But as the risks to their safety heighten, so does their undeniable attraction to one another…

“With this ring, I thee fake wed. I promise to save your butt, should the need arise…again. And should you try anything without my permission, I promise to hurt you.” Kate raised her brows. “Got it?”

He held up his hand. “Got it. I won’t try anything without your permission.” As Kate took his upraised hand and slipped the ring onto his finger, Montana muttered, “I don’t try…I do.”

Kate glared at him. “This marriage is fake. Don’t forget that.”

“Trust me. I won’t.” Montana leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brief brush of a kiss.

A blast of electricity ripped through Kate, followed by heat, searing a path through her chest and down low in her belly. She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Why did you do that?”

“Only seemed fitting, after tying the knot.” He winked, sending another rush of heat rushing through her veins. “Want me to take it back?”

Navy Seal Six Pack

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or www.ellejames.com.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Benjamin “Montana” Raines—Raised on a ranch in Montana, but trained as an expert sniper.

Kate McKenzie—Disgraced CIA special agent desperate to redeem herself.

Becca Smith—Stealth Operations Specialists (SOS) agent searching for the person responsible for her father’s death.

Quentin Lovett—Navy SEAL, the charmer of the team.

Sawyer Houston—Navy SEAL gunner and secretly the son of a US Senator.

Dutton “Duff” Calloway—Navy SEAL trained demolitions expert and boat driver.

“Rip” Cord Schafer—Navy SEAL demolitions expert.

Jace Hunter—Newest member of Navy SEAL Boat Team 22.

Royce Fontaine—Head of the SOS.

Tim “Geek” Trainer—SOS agent with highly evolved computer skills.

Cassandra Teirney—Identity thief the SEAL team ran into in Cancun, spotted in DC.

Nigel Carruthers—Old friend and golfing buddy of deceased millionaire Trevor Brantley.

Tarek Abusaid—Syrian ambassador to the United States.

Mica Brantley—Trevor Brantley’s widow, desperately searching for her stepdaughter.

This book is dedicated to my editor, whom I adore,

Patience Bloom, for all the love, care and feeding she

gives me as an author. She’s a pleasure to work with and

a wonderful person. I wish her all the happiness in the

world, because she brings me joy and happiness just by

being who she is.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Navy SEAL Benjamin “Montana” Raines leaned against the side of the nondescript building in downtown Washington, DC. Anyone looking at it would guess it was nothing more than another office building filled with businessmen or lobbyists there to buy a congressman or senator into their way of thinking.

Montana liked being outside, even if it was on a busy street in DC. He preferred the open air and big skies of his home state, Montana, but this city was a nice change from the heat, humidity and mosquitoes prevalent at his duty station in Stennis, Mississippi. Not that he minded Mississippi all that much. That little backwater town was home to the Pearl River and some of the best riverine training in the country.

For the past four years, Montana had been with SEAL Boat Team 22, or as he and his team called it, SBT-22. The men on the team were more family than his own family back home. He’d been to hell and back with his fellow SEAL teammates and he’d give his life for each and every one of them.

Trained to conduct covert operations in river and jungle environments, Montana was feeling a bit out of his element and naked in DC. Instead of trees, brush and bugs, his surroundings consisted of concrete, cars and pavement. What bothered him most was that he couldn’t openly carry a weapon, and he wasn’t wearing any kind of protection—no Kevlar helmet or body armor. Civilian attire was the uniform of the day, with orders to try to look like he belonged in Washington, DC. Most of all, be on the lookout for his new partner.

His team had picked him for this operation because he was good at camouflage and he had experience with bombs. Whether it was in a desert, forest, golf course or city, he could blend in. From what he’d been told, his partner had similar skills. Which could be why he hadn’t spotted her yet.

The need to blend in would be useful in a city where blending in normally wasn’t the goal. Everyone in DC was, or wanted to be, someone. From the politicians always aware of the next election, to the lobbyists or leaders of the political action committees. All mingling with the rich and famous who hoped to manipulate the lawmakers with promises of campaign funding and vacations on fully staffed, luxury yachts.

None of that appealed to Montana. He’d rather be riding a horse on the prairie or staring up at the big sky on a starry night. He couldn’t even see the stars in DC. The light pollution was off the scale and visible from the International Space Station like a gaudy jewel in a long chain of similarly gaudy jewels lining the East Coast.

A bicycle courier stopped on the sidewalk at the corner of the building Montana leaned against. The basket on the front of his bright yellow bicycle was overloaded with small packages and thick envelopes, precariously stacked. He toed the kickstand and dismounted. One by one, he removed the larger packages, lining them up against the building. Then he carefully rearranged them in the basket. A moment later he mounted his bicycle and rode off.

The courier passed Montana and crossed the street.

Montana glanced back the direction from which the cyclist had come and frowned. A small package lay against the brick of the building.

Montana spun toward the cyclist and yelled, “Hey!”

The young courier either didn’t hear him or ignored him, hurrying toward his next delivery. Which could have been to deliver the package he’d left behind. Already he was too far away to hear someone shouting at him over the sounds of the traffic on the street, or for Montana to catch him on foot.

Montana turned back to the package and walked toward it. Perhaps it had an address on it, or the phone number of the delivery service. He could call and have them send the courier back to retrieve it.

He had just about reached the package when a flash of motion made him look up in time to see a jean-clad female, with shoulder-length, straight blond hair, flying at him.

The crazy woman bent over and plowed into him, her shoulder hitting him square in his gut, sending him staggering backward. She didn’t stop plowing until he’d been pushed several yards along the sidewalk, tripped over his feet and landed hard on his back. He lay still for a moment, the breath knocked out of his lungs, not only from the fall, but from the woman landing on top of him.

When he could drag a breath of air in to fill his lungs, he grabbed the woman’s shoulders and pushed her to arm’s length. “What the hell?”

“Stay down!” she shouted, and covered the back of her head with her arms, burying her face in his chest.

Not sure why he should keep down, he recognized the command in her voice and remained on the ground. He even threw his arm over his face.

Several seconds went by. People passed them on the sidewalk. A woman giggled, a man snorted and a child asked, “Mama, what’s that woman doing to that man?”

“Shh,” the woman said. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

At that point, Montana opened his eyes and looked around. “Is something supposed to happen?”

His assailant leaned up on her arms and looked behind her. “The cyclist left a package. It could be full of explosives.”

Montana chuckled. “Or it could be full of cookies, or paper clips, or someone’s special-ordered dentures.” He stared up into steely-gray eyes and studied the woman who’d tackled him. “Not that I mind letting the woman be on top, but I prefer it to be in the privacy of my bedroom, not a sidewalk crowded with people.”

The female pushed to her feet and stared at the small box leaning against the side of the building, her eyes narrowed. “It could be a bomb,” she said, as the bright yellow bicycle sailed past her.

Montana rose behind her, recognizing the cyclist from a few minutes earlier.

The rider barely came to a stop before he dropped to the ground and scooped up the box. Back on the bicycle, he jerked the handlebars around and sped away, hitting the street to weave in and out of the slow-moving traffic.

“Tragedy averted,” Montana couldn’t help saying. “Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than Grandma’s cookies.”

The woman stiffened, color rising in her cheeks. “Excuse me.” With her chin lifted high enough that she couldn’t possible see her feet, she marched away.

Montana resumed his post next to the entrance of the Stealth Operation Specialists headquarters, his gaze following the woman with the steely-gray eyes and sandy-blond hair.

She’d crossed the street and stopped to stare at the numbers on the building in front of her. Performing an about-face, she retraced her steps and stopped in front of him to stare at the number on the outside of the building.

With a chuckle, Montana asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be Kate McKenzie, would you?”

She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and nodded. “I am.”

“Since we already know each other on an intimate level, let me introduce myself. Benjamin Raines, but my friends call me Montana. I hear we’re going to be partners.”

* * *

KATE WANTED TO sink into the concrete sidewalk and die of mortification. Instead, she sucked it up and held out her hand as if she tackled perfect strangers on a regular occurrence. “Nice to meet you. I don’t suppose you’d keep our little...incident to yourself, would you?”

“It’ll be our secret.” He took her hand, his strong, callused fingers wrapping around hers. She had no doubt he could crush her bones with one tight squeeze, if he wanted. A ripple of awareness feathered across her senses.

When she’d been lying on top of him, she’d felt the rock-hard muscles of his chest and thighs. He was built as solid as an armored tank. When her old college roommate, Becca, had briefed her on this mission, she’d told her she’d be paired with a Navy SEAL. The image in her mind had been one of a scruffy man with a beard and intense eyes. Not this ruggedly handsome, clean-shaven man wearing blue jeans, cowboy boots and a blue chambray shirt. He could have been a model for a jeans commercial, the kind of jeans best suited for horseback riding, not hanging out on street corners in the city.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth like warm chocolate being poured over her skin, seeping into every crevice. “Come with me.”

To the end of the earth. The thought leaped into her mind and she quickly banished it. Kate had more than proved herself a lousy judge of men and matters of the heart. But she couldn’t stop the shiver that slipped down the back of her neck as she passed him and entered the building.

Montana led the way to the elevator and waited for her to enter before he punched a button on the panel.

As the car rose, Kate held her tongue. What could she say after making a complete fool of herself? “Do you know what this so-called mission is all about?”

Montana nodded but didn’t enlighten her. While the elevator car rose, he leaned against the wall, studying her.

“I take it you’re not going to clue me in.” Kate hit him with a brief but unswerving glare, and then jerked her gaze away, avoiding direct eye contact, afraid of repeating her own history. Hadn’t she fallen for a handsome colleague once before? Drawn into his world, his life, she’d been hard-pressed and embarrassed to admit she’d fallen for the oldest double cross in the book.

Maybe she deserved to be a desk jockey for the remainder of her career as a CIA special agent. Determined not to fall under any man’s spell ever again, Kate watched the numbers blink on the display over the door. Two. Three.

A loud boom echoed in the air. The elevator jerked to a halt so suddenly Kate was thrown to her knees. Lights blinked out and absolute darkness descended on the enclosed box.

“Are you all right?” Montana’s deep voice filled the abyss.

“Yeah.” She pushed to her feet, bracing her hand on the wall. “What happened?”

“I think your bomb exploded.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than another explosion rocked the elevator and dust sifted through the air vent. Thrown sideways, Kate crashed into the hard body of the Navy SEAL.

His arm circled her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

Kate waited in silence, her chest crushed to his, listening for the next explosion, sounds of sirens or voices.

After a couple minutes and nothing else exploding, Kate broke her silence. “You can let go of me. I think that was the last one.”

“We can’t be sure,” he said, his arm tightening, his fingers digging into the small of her back. “Give it another minute or two.”

The longer she waited in the circle of his arm, her body absorbing his heat, the more time she had to take in just how tall and firm this man’s body was. From what she’d felt, he didn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere. And he smelled of outdoors and fresh air. She inhaled, deeply.

“You were right. It was the last one,” he said, his breath stirring the loose strands of hair on her cheek. His arm loosened.

For a long moment, Kate remained pressed against him, her thoughts in a whirl, her blood hammering through her veins. Then she remembered to let go of the breath she’d been holding, and backed away. “I don’t suppose you have a flash—”

A light blinked on in the darkness.

When her eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination, Kate shook her head. “You don’t look like the kind of guy who carries a penlight.”

Montana grinned. “I’m not. But Becca’s boss gave me this one. It also contains a hidden camera. I might be a cowboy at heart, but the James Bond in me goes all techno-geek with stuff like this.” He shined the light at the control panel. “Suppose the emergency button will work without electricity?”

“Only one way to find out.” She pressed the button and waited. No sirens nor flashing lights came to life. She shrugged. “Help me pry the doors open so we can see where we are.”

Montana placed the penlight between his teeth, dug his fingers between the sliding doors and pulled hard enough that Kate could get her fingers between, as well.

“On three,” she said. “One...two...three.”

They pulled hard in opposite directions. At first the door didn’t budge much. Kate leaned back as hard as she could, digging her feet into the floor for leverage. Inch by hard-earned inch, the door opened, until there was enough room for one of them to squeeze through.

Montana shone the light, starting at their feet. The dark wall of the elevator shaft stared back at them. He swept the beam of light upward to the top, where they could see a four-inch gap to what Kate assumed was the fourth floor.

Montana gave her a sideways glance. “You don’t suppose you could fit through?”

She shook her head. “I’m smaller than you, but I’d have to be a cat to squeeze through that narrow gap.”

Montana trained the light at the ceiling of the car. “Then there’s only one other way out of here. Here, hold the flashlight.” He handed it to her, cupped his hands and bent down. “Check it out.”

She stared at his cupped hands and didn’t move.

He glanced up. “Unless you want to boost me. I warn you, I’m a little heavier than you are.”

“I’ll go.” She stepped into his hands and raised her arms over her head.

Montana straightened, lifting her up as he did.

She found a loose panel in the ceiling, pushed it upward and then poked her head through. “I can see the fourth floor landing. We should be able to get out through here.”

“I’m going to raise you high enough to get your arms through, and you can take it from there.”

Montana lifted her until Kate got her arms through the hole, braced her elbows on the sides and pulled herself up to sit on the edge. Once she had her breath, she pushed to her feet and shone the light back into the elevator car. “Your turn. Need me to lend you a hand?”

“No, thanks.” He jumped, his fingers catching on the sides of the panel opening.

Kate backed up as much as possible, directing the flashlight beam near Montana without blinding him. He pulled himself up, his biceps flexing, stretching the shirt tight around his chest and shoulders. Squeezing his shoulders through the tight space, he soon had the rest of his body through and stood beside Kate.

She handed him the light and stepped over to the fourth floor landing and down onto the hallway floor.

Emergency lighting glowed softly, giving just enough light to guide them.

“Follow me.” Montana led the way, turning left at the end of the corridor. Midway down the next hall, he pushed through a doorway. “Everyone okay in here?” he called out.

A strong flashlight beam shone in his face.

Montana raised an arm to shade his eyes.

“Montana, is that you?” a voice called out.

Kate entered the room behind the Navy SEAL to find it crowded with guys as big and brawny as Montana, crowded around a couple of battery-operated lanterns. Interspersed with the big men were a few women and a white-haired man who appeared to be as physically fit as the younger men.

“Anyone sustain injuries?” Montana asked.

“We’re all good here. Thankfully, we were in the war room when the explosion occurred,” the white-haired man said. “I’m glad we put the extra money in the construction. It’s built like a bunker.” He stepped forward. “I’m betting this is our chameleon, Kate McKenzie. Hi, I’m Royce Fontaine, the head of Stealth Operations Specialists—or SOS, as we like to refer to it.”

“SOS?” Kate raised her brows. “Just what does SOS do?”

Royce nodded, a smile tipping the corners of his mouth. “Stealth Operations Specialists is a team of agents called in when the FBI, CIA and Secret Service can’t quite get the job done. Or the situation is highly sensitive and needs the utmost secrecy. Unfortunately, most of my agents are assigned at this time, thus the need to call in reinforcements.” He swept his arm out, his gaze circling the room. “Glad to have you all on board for this operation. We can use all the help we can get.”

Kate nodded, her gaze seeking and finding her old roommate from college, Becca Smith. “I didn’t realize there’d be an entire team of people on this gig.”

Becca pushed through the others and hugged Kate. “I couldn’t say much over the phone. We needed you here, where others can’t listen in on the conversation. As we’ve learned the hard way, we can’t trust anyone but the people in this room.”

“And based on the explosion outside the building,” Royce said, “there are those who will stop at nothing to keep us from doing our jobs. Don’t worry. I have people checking the structure. They will alert us if we need to evacuate immediately. When we had the structure built, we hardened it for just such an occasion. We could potentially continue to work out of this office, but coming and going from a targeted location will be dangerous.”

Kate leaned toward Becca and whispered, “What are you getting me into?” Her body quivered with excitement. She’d trained for covert ops. This was what made her blood sing.

Becca took her hand. “Come into the conference room. Geek is working on getting the computers and lighting back online so we can brief you. Then I’m sure we’ll move to our backup location. This building has been compromised.”

As Becca led her through another door, Kate glanced over her shoulder, searching for and finding Montana. Though she’d met him only a few minutes before, he seemed to be the anchor in this sea of people, with their plans that threatened to sweep her away from a desk job she loathed.

Becca had promised her a way to redeem and reclaim her status in the CIA, if they could pull off this mission. By the looks of it, and the people squeezing into the war room, they could well be a small army gathering to overthrow the government, for all Kate knew.

What had she gotten herself into?

Whatever it was, it sure beat the hell out of pushing paper.

Chapter Two

Montana followed everyone into the conference room, amazed they weren’t evacuating, despite Fontaine’s assurance that the building could withstand a bomb blast.

Several flashlights and a couple of lanterns provided enough illumination that he could get around without tripping on the many people crowded into the large room.

“Take a seat,” Fontaine commanded. “The lights should come on momentar—”

The fluorescent bulbs blinked overhead and then glowed brightly.

A collective sigh and smiles were shared all around. Montana pulled out a chair for Kate and waited while she sank into it. Then he sat beside her. Now that everyone was in and seated around the large table, he had a chance to study the people Fontaine had gathered.

“I want to start by introducing everyone,” Fontaine said. “You’re all to be part of the team in one fashion or another.” He pointed to the man who entered carrying a laptop. “The heart of this group is Geek, our computer guru and all-around technical genius.” The white-haired man waved his hand toward the man helping Geek with wires and switches. “Lance will be working with him in the office or in a communication van, wherever we need him to support the operation.”

Fontaine waved next at a woman Montana knew from their failed attempt to vacation in Cancun, Becca Smith, who worked directly for Fontaine as one of his SOS agents. “Becca Smith has a stake in this operation. Whoever is behind all the assassinations and attempts killed her father and tried to kill her father’s close friend, Oscar Melton. Both of them were top-notch CIA agents working with the congressional Subcommittee on Terrorism, Drug Trafficking and International Operations.”

Turning to his left, Fontaine held his hand out to a nice-looking woman with blond hair and blue eyes. She, too, had been involved in the chaos of Cancun. “Natalie Layne is another SOS agent who has been a part of the ongoing issues we’ve encountered thus far. Her sister was one of the women abducted, with the intent to sell her in a human trafficking ring located out of Cancun, Mexico.”

Fontaine continued around the table. “Besides the SOS operatives, please welcome Kate McKenzie, an agent with the CIA. We’ve also been augmented by six Navy SEALs, on loan to us from Stennis, Mississippi.”

Starting around the room, Fontaine introduced them. “Dutton Callaway, who goes by Duff. Sawyer Houston, Quentin Lovett, Jace Hunter, Cord Schafer, who goes by Rip, and Benjamin Raines, nicknamed after his home state of Montana.”

Montana nodded acknowledgment.

“A six pack of SEALs,” Geek muttered, as he connected the laptop to an Ethernet cable and clicked a remote that lit a projection screen at one end of the long room.

“Are we planning to start a war with all of these people in the room?” Duff, one of Montana’s SEAL teammates, asked.

Fontaine shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No, but by the looks of it, we might be stopping one that’s been going on longer than we knew.” He turned to Geek. “Ready?”

Geek nodded. “Someone get the door.”

Navy SEAL Quentin Lovett, standing near the back of the room, shut the door.

At the same time, Geek clicked a handheld remote control device and the image on his laptop projected onto the screen. He touched the keyboard and the screen filled with a lot of what appeared to be random numbers.

“This is what we have so far,” Fontaine said. “Thanks to Becca’s father, God rest his soul, who knew he was in trouble and might not live to tell about it.”

“All I see are numbers,” Montana pointed out. “Do they represent something?”

“Geek has spent the past week crunching these numbers, trying to decode them, thinking they were a special message.” Fontaine nodded toward him. “Tell them what you discovered.”

“Well, I couldn’t make secret messages out of them, and I was getting really frustrated, until I took a step back and just stared at the groupings. Then it hit me.” He stood and pointed to the wall. “This half of each sixteen-digit number is a date.” He pointed to the other half. “The other eight digits could have been bank accounts, safe-deposit box numbers or anything else in the world. Given that they were all eight digits in length, I made a calculated guess and ran a program, entering them as coordinates.”

He walked back to the computer and clicked another key. A world map replaced the numbers. Bright red dots overlaid the map.

Montana leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, and studied the information depicted on the image.

Geek zoomed in on the map, focusing on Europe. He walked toward the screen again. “On the date for this location, in Paris, France, a terrorist attack took place, killing everyone in a certain restaurant, including Harmon Whitlow, his wife, son and daughter-in-law.”

“I heard about that,” Sawyer said. One of the six SEALs at the table, he knew the most about politics. As the son of a former US Senator, he kept up with the political scene, though he claimed he couldn’t care less.

He always amazed Montana with his insight on what was going on in Washington, DC.

After the fiasco in Cancun, where someone had attempted to kill him and his father, Sawyer had been a little less adamant about his distaste for politics. With his father now in the equivalent of the witness protection program, starting a new life as someone else, Sawyer had volunteered for this mission, determined to find the person or persons responsible for trying to kill them. “Harmon Whitlow was the undersecretary for political affairs in the US State Department,” he stated.

Geek nodded and pointed to another dot, this time on the map of the US. “On this date in New York City, a bomb went off near a set of bleachers during the NYC Marathon. Two people died in that attack, over two hundred people were injured and one went missing.”

“Who?” Kate asked.

“Emily Brantley, daughter of Trevor Brantley, multimillionaire.” Geek pressed a key on the laptop, displaying a photo of a pretty young lady standing between a man in a suit and a well-dressed woman. “She was running the marathon. When the smoke cleared, she was gone. Her bodyguards had been killed not by the bomb, but by bullets that expertly pierced their skulls.”

Montana knew about Brantley’s missing daughter. It had been all over the news, with pleas and a reward posted from the Brantleys for their daughter’s safe return.

Fontaine interjected, “The authorities assumed it was a terrorist bombing by members of ISIS, a copycat of the 2013 attack at the Boston Marathon. We think it was a diversion allowing the bombers to kill the bodyguards and nab the Brantley woman.”

“How soon after the bombing was Trevor Brantley murdered?” Montana asked.

Geek pointed to a larger dot on the map in the vicinity of Washington, DC. “On this date, at this coordinate, less than two weeks later, Trevor Brantley was gunned down in his mansion here.”

Sawyer pointed at the double dots on the Yucatan Peninsula. “Were those the dates and locations of the attempts on my life and my father’s?”

Geek nodded. “Yes. Obviously those attempts weren’t successful.”

Becca Smith, her face pale, asked, “Was one of those dots on the nation’s capital the day my father was killed near his apartment here? Is that why there are more dots in the DC area? Multiple killings?”

Geek’s lips twisted. “The date your father died and the date there was an attempt on his colleague Oscar Melton’s life were both on that list, with the coordinates of the attacks.”

Montana’s teammate Quentin Lovett slipped an arm around Becca’s waist. “We know the connection between Marcus Smith and Oscar Melton. What connection is there between them and all the others?”

“Besides investigating the drug and human trafficking issues worldwide, the two CIA agents were investigating these codes. I can only assume they thought they were connected. Marcus Smith was able to mail the disk containing the information to Becca before he was killed. Oscar Melton is still in critical condition in a coma.”

“We suspect Sawyer’s father, Rand Houston, was targeted because he was on the Subcommittee for Terrorism, Drug Trafficking and International Operations,” Fontaine said. “What we can’t connect is Trevor Brantley and his family to the others. Which leads me to one more introduction, for those who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.” He turned toward the door, smiled and held out his hand. “Perfect timing. Please, come in.”

A woman with long dark hair, wearing a tailored gray skirt suit, stepped into the room. Montana remembered her from their operation to rescue women in Cancun. She’d come undercover as a potential buyer. Montana recognized the man following her as Rex, her bodyguard.

Fontaine took the woman’s hand. “This is Mica Brantley, Trevor Brantley’s widow. Since her husband’s death, she’s made it her mission to find and bring her stepdaughter, Emily Brantley, home.”

Mica nodded at the roomful of people. “Thank you for volunteering for this mission. I won’t rest until Emily is home safe and my husband’s killer is brought to justice.”

“Mrs. Brantley was not in the country on the date her husband was murdered in their home,” Fontaine said. “She’s had multiple attempts made on her life but managed to get here despite her pursuers.”

Mica nodded. “Since Trevor’s death, I’ve lived aboard my yacht and traveled, searching for Emily. I’ll never give up hope of finding her. I love the girl as if she were my own.”

Fontaine nodded. “She’s taken a huge risk to come back to DC, offering herself as bait to catch the killer.”

Mica gave a brief, sad smile. “I’ve spent a lot of money and time searching and thus far haven’t found the source of all the tragedy. Royce has been in contact with me since the incident in Cancun. When he learned about the disk, he thought I should know.” She lifted her chin. “I’m tired of running. If I can put myself up as the target, maybe we can flush out the killer, or catch one of his hit men and interrogate him.”

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” Kate said. “You’re willing to risk your life for this effort?”

“I am.” Mica turned to Fontaine. “With the understanding that, should I die in this attempt, someone continue to look for Emily.”

Fontaine nodded. “We’ll do our best to keep you alive and find Emily.” He glanced around, making eye contact with everyone in the room. “We’re all in this together. We have to stop those behind all the murders and attempted murders in this case.”

As one, everyone in the room nodded.

Montana’s sense of justice refused to let him back down from this mission. He’d seen the women held captive for auction. No woman, or her family, should be subjected to the horror of human trafficking. He wanted to get to the bottom of the case as much as Mica Brantley did.

Montana tipped his head toward the screen, ready to get on with solving the case. “What about the rest of the dates and coordinates?”

“We connected the dots with a couple of ‘accidents,’” Geek said. “Richard Giddings drove off a bridge into the Potomac. He worked with Senator Houston on the same subcommittee. Percy Beardon, an avid cyclist, fell from his bike at this coordinate on the date indicated.”

“What’s the deal on Beardon?” Duff asked.

Fontaine shook his head. “His claim to fame was that he was one of the survivors of the Syrian attack on the US Embassy in Turkey a couple of years ago.”

“Most of the dates are past,” Sawyer said.

“Like notches on a bedpost?” Quentin asked.

Montana’s lips twitched. Trust Quentin to make it about sex. The man was an expert ladies’ man and charmer. At least until he’d met his match. Becca had been good for him. She made him work to woo her. And now that they were in a committed relationship, they were seldom apart.

Montana was glad for his friend. Quentin had needed someone to come home to. He’d settled down and quit going out as much. Too bad they worked so far apart, with Becca based out of Virginia and Quentin out of Mississippi. But then Fontaine didn’t care where his SOS operatives lived, as long as they could deploy at a moment’s notice. Montana suspected Becca would soon base out of Mississippi, to be closer to Quentin when she wasn’t working an assignment.

Familiar with those conditions, Montana didn’t envy Quentin and Becca’s relationship. As often as SBT-22 was deployed, and given the nature of Becca’s work, the two would be hard-pressed to get together on a regular basis, even if she was based out of Mississippi.

Montana had always considered that as long as he was on active duty as a Navy SEAL, he’d be better off steering clear of entanglements. Being a bachelor was the safest bet.

He glanced at his new partner, Kate McKenzie. The woman seemed no-nonsense and decidedly kick-ass. He shouldn’t have a problem sticking to his intent to stay single and emotionally unavailable to women. Especially one who’d tackled him before they’d been properly introduced.

Those steely eyes didn’t inspire him to lose himself in her. Her athletic body and shoulder-length, straight, sandy-blond hair didn’t make him want to run his hand through it to ascertain just how silky the strands were.

Well, maybe just a little. And her eyes were a startling steel-gray, rimmed with a darker pewter outline.

When she’d lain on top of him, protecting him from potential shrapnel, he hadn’t been all that turned on by the rounded swells of her breasts against his chest.

Okay, so maybe he had noticed her breasts. They had been smashed against him for what had felt like an eternity. When he’d rested his hands on her hips, his body had naturally reacted to having a female on top of him. A lot of time had passed since he’d been with a woman.

He turned to study his new partner and frowned. It was so much easier to work with men. They didn’t threaten his determination to remain footloose and single.

Dragging his attention from Kate, he focused on Fontaine. “Most of the dates are past. That means some of them are in the future. Like a schedule of events to come. You agree with that, don’t you?”

Geek and Fontaine nodded simultaneously.

“That’s exactly what we’ve learned,” Fontaine said.

“So how do we fit in with this mission?” Kate asked. “Why did you need me when you had all of these people to run your operation?”

Fontaine faced Montana and Kate. “Becca tells me you are an expert chameleon, able to change your appearance to look like anyone you want.”

Kate shrugged. “I did a lot of theater in high school and college. My skills with makeup came in handy as a field agent with CIA. I had a knack for transforming into whomever I needed to be.” Her lips thinned and her jaw tightened.

Montana noted this little change in her expression. That she spoke in the past tense made him curious. Wasn’t she still an agent in the CIA?

Fontaine nodded and his gaze shifted to Montana. “Raines, your team considers you the best at camouflage and bombs.”

Montana frowned. “Sure. I can blend in with any tree, bush or desert location. But nothing like Kate.”

“Your abilities to blend in were only part of the reason I chose you two for this assignment.” Fontaine waved his hand. “If you could please stand, I’ll show you the other reason.”

Montana stood and held Kate’s chair while she rose as well, her brows pulling together.

“Mrs. Brantley, I’d like you and your bodyguard to please stand by Raines and McKenzie.”

The two complied.

Fontaine smiled. “Perfect. Kate, you’re almost the exact height as Mrs. Brantley. And Raines, you’re pretty close to Rex Masters’s height and build.”

“So?” Montana challenged.

Geek pointed to a dot on the map. “One of the dates indicates tomorrow at the yacht club.”

Fontaine picked up from there. “Mrs. Brantley is listed as keynote speaker at the annual fund-raiser the club sponsors for the children’s hospital.”

“I’ve canceled every other engagement I’ve had since my husband’s death,” Mica said. “This was one I couldn’t. The children’s hospital is near and dear to my heart. After losing my baby to leukemia, I realized how much the hospital does for desperately ill children and their families. I’ll be there.”

“Based on the date and coordinates, someone knows you wouldn’t miss the event,” Fontaine said. “We can’t be certain just who will be targeted, but we wanted to make sure you’re safe. Raines and McKenzie will go as your guests. We created identities for them as newly rich recent members of the yacht club.”

“Are we to supplement Mrs. Brantley’s bodyguard support?” Kate asked.

“Yes, and more,” Fontaine said. “I’ll have several of the other SEALs and some of my agents augmenting the waitstaff at the club.”

Geek added, “We can’t be certain who they will target. Because whoever is orchestrating these attacks doesn’t seem to be going after just the politicians and federal agents...” He paused. “They’re taking out the family members, too.”

Mrs. Brantley’s face paled. “Perhaps I should call and cancel my speech at the fund-raiser. I’d hate for a bomb, targeting me, to take out innocent bystanders.”

“That’s why we’ll have the SEALs and SOS team in place,” Fontaine assured her. “I’ll also have bomb-sniffing dogs make a thorough sweep of the entire building before the event commences, and we’ll have security cordon off the area to keep vehicles from getting close.”

Mrs. Brantley chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t want people hurt because of me.”

“We don’t know who they will be after,” Geek said. “And as far as we can tell, nobody knows we have the list of dates and coordinates.”

Fontaine turned to Montana. “Raines, you and McKenzie will be there not only to protect Mrs. Brantley, you are to watch and listen closely to the people she interacts with. If we determine she is a target, you two might have to take Mrs. Brantley’s and Masters’s places in the DC scene as their doubles for a while.”

Montana exchanged glances with Rex Masters. It made sense that he would replace the man. They were similar in build and he could have his hair lightened to match Masters’s dark blond cropped hair. Kate and Mica were the same height and close to the same build. Mrs. Brantley might have a tinier waist and bigger breasts, but Kate, if she was as good as she said she was, could make her face up to look just like Mica’s. Colored contacts would help match Mica’s dark brown irises.

“Why aren’t you using your SOS agents instead of the SEALs?” asked Navy SEAL Jace Hunter, the youngest member of the SBT-22 team.

“I’m short staffed,” Fontaine said. “They’re on critical missions throughout the country and the world. Considering the successful kill rate of that list, we might need all the security and waitstaff we can get. The future dates and locations are in or around the DC area at major events. Geek and I conducted a thorough background check on the six of you SEALs. You all have exemplary records. I’d trust you with my life and that of Mrs. Brantley. Add to it the fact that most of you have already been involved in the attacks, and I think you have a stake in seeing it to a satisfactory conclusion.”

“We usually work in combat environments,” Duff said. “Mingling with the rich and famous might be a bit out of our league.”

“Again,” Fontaine said, “I don’t know who else I could trust. When we took down the assassin after Oscar Melton, we found a mole in the CIA orchestrating some of the assassinations. We don’t know how deep into our nation’s security the problem exists.”

Montana’s fists clenched. They were all supposed to be on the same side. When the organization had bad seeds within it, people lost faith, and the infrastructure of that entity crumbled from within. After all they’d been through in Cancun, and the multiple attempts on his friend Sawyer’s life, he would be happy to see this operation to the bitter end. “I’m in.”

* * *

“WHY ME?” KATE faced Royce. “I’m with the CIA. As far as you know, I could be as rotten as the deputy director you brought down.”

Her friend Becca stepped forward. “I vouched for you. My father and Oscar only had good things to say about your work and your integrity. They trusted you.”

Kate’s cheeks heated. “Even after my demotion?”

Becca nodded. “Especially after. You couldn’t know your partner was a double agent. I’m betting you learned a valuable lesson from the whole affair.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Montana’s face jerk toward her.

Well, to hell with him. People made mistakes. Unfortunately, she’d made a double-whammy mistake. Falling for her partner was bad enough. Not doing her homework to learn the man she was sleeping with was actually a Russian double agent was worse. Kate was lucky she hadn’t been kicked out of the CIA. Being demoted from field agent to desk duty had been bad, but not the end of her career.

With a sigh, she pushed the past behind her and glanced at Mica. “I’ll need to get inside your head and know your moves, expressions, likes and dislikes, as well as who your friends are, and known enemies.”

Mica smiled. “I like the way you think.” Her smile faded. “But if I am a target, and you take my place, you’ll become the target.” She shook her head and turned to Royce. “I can’t put Kate in that position.”

“If it helps uncover who’s after you, I’m in,” Kate said. “Hell, if it gets me out of desk duty, I’ll do just about anything.”

Royce glanced at Montana. “What about you, Raines? Are you up for playing dress-up and body-double?”

Montana shrugged. “As I said, I’m in.”

Mica Brantley nodded. “Thank you both. I hope nothing bad comes of the yacht club fund-raiser. It’s supposed to be all about the children and raising money for them.”

“Our aim is to make certain nothing happens,” Royce assured her.

“Then I’ll see you all at the event.” Mica stared around the room. “In some form or fashion. Thank you for your assistance in this matter. I was running out of alternatives. I’m hoping with your help to recover my stepdaughter.”

“We’re looking into that. Geek and Lance have been searching the internet and backtracking through all the footage of the marathon.”

Mica’s eyes widened. “Anything new?”

Royce shook his head. “Nothing yet, but we’re not done.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Thank you for all you’ve done thus far.”

With a dip of his head, Royce squeezed her hand. “Until tomorrow.”

After Mica left the room with Rex, Royce returned his attention to the group. “Any questions?”

Her mind already ten steps ahead, Kate raked her gaze over Montana. “We’ll need clothes and shoes.”

“I have clothes and shoes,” Montana said.

Royce grinned. “Trust Kate. You’ll need new clothes and shoes. And they won’t be cheap. Don’t worry about budget or what to buy. I have one of my agents on standby at a local high-end clothier. She’ll guide you two on selections and then arrange for your makeover.”

Montana’s brows dipped, and the SEALs around the table chuckled.

“Going preppy on us, Montana?” the man Royce had introduced as Jace Hunter asked.

“Don’t go hookin’ up with some rich hoochie mama,” the one nicknamed Rip said. “Your country needs you as a SEAL, not a bonbon-eating gigolo.”

Rip’s comment had all the guys laughing.

Kate got a strange amount of enjoyment from Montana’s discomfort. At the same time, she couldn’t wait to see the big man decked out in a suit and tie. Then again...if she thought he was ruggedly handsome in jeans, with a T-shirt stretching tautly over his massive chest...she might have palpitations over this SEAL’s magnetism in a suit or tuxedo.

Get a grip.

Kate squared her shoulders. “When do we start?”

“There’s a company car pulling up to the back of the building now.” Royce turned to the others in the room. “We could use some help clearing the building and moving to our disaster recovery site.”

Everyone rose at once, talking and moving toward the door.

Kate went through first.

Becca caught up with her. “I’ll show you the way out the back.”

Once Montana joined them, they headed along the hallway, dimly lit by emergency lighting. Becca opened a door to a stairwell and they descended to the ground level.

When Becca reached for the exit door, Montana covered her hand with his. “Let me go first.”

Becca snorted. “At this point, we’re all tactical. Male or female, we’re trained in urban warfare.”

“You and Kate might be trained in urban warfare, but I’ve survived urban warfare. And if that’s not good enough, my mama taught me to open doors for ladies.” He winked and stepped around her.

Kate’s heart skipped several beats at the sexy wink.

Becca turned to her friend with a smile. “Oh, he’s smooth, that one.”

Montana exited the building, closing the door behind him. A moment later, he opened it and held it for the women.

Becca stood back. “I’m not actually going with you. I need to help move operations to the backup location.”

Kate hugged her. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Her friend squeezed her tightly. “I figured you were perfect for this job. Stay safe.”

“I will.” Kate released Becca.

Montana stood beside a long, black, chauffeur-driven car, holding the door for her.

Kate gave him a crooked grin.

“I told you,” he said. “My mama taught me to treat the ladies right.”

“Your mother would be proud,” she said, and slid into the backseat, scooting over far enough to allow room for Montana.

So this was it. The start of a potentially dangerous operation, with a hunk of a SEAL as her sidekick, and a chance to redeem herself if things turned out okay. She couldn’t help but cross her fingers and pray this mission went off like clockwork, they nailed the persons responsible for the hits and brought the Brantley girl home alive.

Chapter Three

Montana hated shopping. After trying on the fourth set of trousers, the fifth button-down shirt and the third suit jacket, he’d had enough. “What’s wrong with this one?” he asked. Other than he’d probably rip the damned thing when he went after the bad guys. One right uppercut and he’d bust out the stitches.

SOS Agent Nicole Steele, who preferred to go by her nickname of Tazer, shook her head. “We need to go another size larger. You can’t move in that jacket. Good Lord, Ben, what do they feed men in Montana?” She waved to the attendant and asked him to bring another size larger. “We have a seamstress on standby to make the alterations quickly.”

“Seriously, I don’t need but one suit and a pair of casual pants.”

“Not if you want to blend in with the rich and politically elevated,” Tazer said. “Now quit bellyaching. How did you ever make it through BUD/S training?”

“I sure as hell didn’t have to wear a suit and dress shirt. I only had to worry about drowning in the sea or falling flat on my face in the mud. For that matter, it was a cakewalk compared to this.”

“Big baby. You’ll be happy when it fits properly,” Tazer said. “Hurry up. We still have to get Kate tricked out.”

Kate sat beside Tazer, her lips twitching.

Montana pointed a finger. “Don’t say a word.”

She held up her hands. “Did I?”

“No, but I can feel you want to.”

She drew a line across her lips. “My lips are sealed.” Her gray eyes flashed. “But if I were to say something, it would be along the lines of ‘think of these clothes as a uniform.’”

“Not helping,” he said, and yanked the jacket off his shoulders.

The attendant handed him another jacket and quickly stepped back, as if afraid Montana would take a swing at him.

Montana shrugged into the garment. The sooner he got through this, the better. He knew what size jeans he wore and the brand that fit best. When he needed a new pair, he walked into the store, picked them out of the stacks and headed straight for the checkout counter. The end.

As the jacket settled around his shoulders, Montana hated to admit Tazer was right. This one wasn’t nearly as constricting and actually felt good on his body.

“Much better. Now, button the jacket.” Tazer and the attendant converged on him. While Tazer tugged, the clerk pinned. When they were done, Montana was afraid to move for fear of being stuck by one of the hundreds of pins sticking out of the material. He felt like a cross between a voodoo doll and a dressmaker’s dummy.

Then they went to work on the trousers, tugging and tucking the hem and the waistband. When they were done, Montana was hot, cranky and ready to be out of the building.

“Let me have the jacket.” Tazer held out her hands.

Montana started to take it off and was jabbed by a pin. “Ouch!”

“Here, let me.” Kate stood, eased the jacket from his shoulders and handed it to Tazer.

Tazer handed the jacket to the attendant, who hustled out of the room, presumably to take the garment to the seamstress.

“Now, out of those trousers.” Tazer held out her hands again.

Kate backed away. “Sorry. Can’t help you there.”

“Hurry up.” Tazer snapped her fingers. “We don’t have all day. Trust me, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Montana glared. “You haven’t seen my anything before.”

Kate’s lips stretched into a wide grin and she turned her back, chuckling.

Montana stripped out of the trousers and slipped into his jeans.

“I’ll be back shortly with the clothes you’ll wear out of here.” Tazer left the dressing area.

Montana buttoned his jeans. “You can turn around now.”

Kate faced him. “I would have thought a SEAL would have no trouble stripping in front of a woman.”

“My mama—”

Kate waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Your mama taught you better. But you’re a SEAL. You fight hard and play rough.”

He shrugged. “It’s just who I am. I was taught to respect women, no matter how young or old.”

Kate shook her head. “You can take the cowboy out of Montana, but you can’t take the Montana out of the cowboy?”

“Something like that.” He tipped his head toward her. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”

She shook her head. “I was a military brat. We moved fifteen times before I turned eighteen. I’m not from anywhere.”

“What about your folks? Did your father retire somewhere you call home?” he asked.

Kate nodded. “He passed away. My mother has a condo in Wisconsin and she now works for a pediatrician.”

“I take it you don’t see her often.” Montana sat in one of the chairs and shoved his foot into one of his cowboy boots.

She stared in the direction Tazer had gone. “Not often enough. What about you?”

“I haven’t been back to Montana in two years. Just never seems to be enough time.”

“Where in Montana?” Kate turned toward him, her gaze capturing his.

“On a ranch south of Bozeman.”

“So you’re the real deal, then.”

“If you mean I’m a real cowboy, then yes. I’ve done just about everything that needs doing on a cattle ranch.” He pulled the second boot on and stood. “Enough about me. What about you? Why did they demote you in the CIA?”

She turned away, her mouth thinning into a firm line. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Suit yourself. But the more we know about each other, the better we will be able to work together. If I didn’t know my buddies on my SEAL team as well as I do, I wouldn’t be able to anticipate their reactions to different situations.”

“Fine.” She faced him, a frown pulling her brows together. “I screwed up. I fell for my partner, and he just happened to be a double agent for Russia.” She sighed. “I was a green rookie. I thought everyone who signed on with the CIA had been fully vetted and loved our country as much as I do.” Kate lifted her chin and stared straight into Montana’s eyes. “I learned my lesson. Don’t put your full faith and trust in anyone. And don’t fall for your partner.”

Montana nodded. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Must have hurt pretty bad.” He stepped toward the door. “You don’t have to worry about this partner. I’m a confirmed bachelor, and I’ve never even been to Russia.” He winked at her. “Let’s go find Tazer. It’s your turn to play dress-up.”

Montana had asked the hard question, but he’d rather know who he was working with and what made her tick. When the crap hit the fan, he wanted to know what she was made of and how she would react.

Kate McKenzie had taken a hit. More than likely, she wouldn’t trust him easily. He’d have to ease into her confidence a little at a time. He sure as hell hoped they had time to make that happen. In a life-and-death situation, Kate needed to know he had her six. He already knew she had his, based on the flying tackle she’d initiated earlier.

While the seamstress worked on the suit jacket and trousers for Montana, Tazer led them to the exclusive shop next door. Where the men’s shop was all dark wood and masculine, this one was light and airy. What amazed him was the lack of clothes racks. “Are they hiding the ladies’ clothing?” he whispered into Kate’s ear.

She glanced around. “No idea. Normally, I can’t afford to walk into a shop like this. Royce must have one helluva budget.”

The beautifully dressed and tastefully made-up attendant in high heels and perfect accessories shot a glance at Kate and Montana and then turned her attention to Tazer. “How might I help you?”

If the woman had thought to have an attitude about finding clothing for Kate, Tazer set her in her place quickly.

Tazer took Montana’s arm, pointed to a cushioned seat and ordered, “Sit.”

The attendant took Kate to a dressing room and then disappeared into the back of the shop with Tazer. They returned with a handful of dresses, blouses and trousers, and disappeared into the dressing room.

Already antsy and ready to be outside, Montana rose from the cushioned seat and paced.

Tazer emerged from the dressing room, looked around and spotted Montana. She pointed a finger. “You. Come with me.”

She took him to the back of the salon, where a barber’s chair stood in the middle of a small office. A woman with bright blue hair, armed with scissors and a comb, smiled at him. “Let’s get started.”

Unsure as to what they were to “get started” on, Montana shot a glance at Tazer.

She hooked his arm, led him to the chair and pointed. “Sit.”

Montana’s brows rose. “I’m beginning to feel like a dog in training.”

“Then act like one, and do as instructed.” Tazer clapped her hands sharply. “Come on, we don’t have all day. You two have a meeting tonight.”

“We do?”

“Yes. I’ll fill you in once we’re through the transformation.”

Half bent toward the seat, Montana paused. “Transformation?”

Tazer rolled her eyes. “Trust me.”

He figured hair grew back, but his buddies wouldn’t let him live down blue hair. Still, he knew they didn’t have time to argue, and Tazer seemed to know what she was doing.

Montana sat.

“By the way, I’m Karen,” said the hairstylist. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

Her scissors flashed and hair flew around him. She shaved his face with a wicked-looking straight razor, trimmed his eyebrows and plucked some of the wild hairs.

So far, he didn’t have a problem with what she’d done. He’d needed a haircut after being on vacation for two weeks, and his brows were a little on the bushy side. But when she brought out a bowl with powder and mixed in liquid from a bottle, he held up his hand. “What’s that?”

“Bleach.”

“For what?” he asked, leaning away from the bowl and what appeared to be a wide, flat paintbrush she was using to stir the contents.

“I’m going to lighten your hair.” She held up a photo of Rex Masters, Mica’s bodyguard. “I’m told you need to have this hair color.”

“Yeah, but will it be permanent?”

She shook her head. “It’ll grow out in a couple months.”

“Months!”

“Relax. It’s just hair. With your tan, the blond will look fabulous on you.”

Not liking the gleam in Karen’s eyes, Montana sat back and allowed the stylist to do her job. Tazer chose that hour to be absent.

Figures.

By the time the stylist finished and dried his hair, Montana was ready to bust through whatever doors stood in his way to getting outside.

Karen slapped a handheld mirror in his palm. “See? You look great.”

He glanced into the mirror, relieved he didn’t have blue hair, and was amazed at the resemblance between him and Mica Brantley’s bodyguard.

Karen had even lightened his eyebrows to a shade darker than his now sandy-blond hair.

“Good, you’re done.” Tazer appeared in the doorway with an armful of clothes. “Put these on.”

“Ever consider the word please?” Montana asked. The SOS agent might dress like a fashion model, but she was as lacking in manners as some of his SEAL buddies.

“No time.” Again, she clapped her hands. “Chop, chop!” Tazer disappeared again, leaving Montana with the stylist, who was gathering the tools of her trade.

“Thank you, Karen.” Montana pulled his wallet out of his pocket, prepared to tip the woman for a job well done.

She held up her hand. “No need to tip me. Miss Steele took care of everything. It was a pleasure.” She held out a card. “Look me up if you’re ever at a loose end.” With a wink, she left the office, closing the door behind her.

Montana shucked his clothes and slipped into the trousers and matching suit jacket, freshly altered. Though he preferred jeans and T-shirts, he had to admit the outfit, now that it had been adjusted, fit like a second skin. He drew the line at putting on the silk tie. Dressed, buttoned and wearing the new patent leather shoes Tazer had delivered with the suit, he stepped out of the office and went in search of Tazer and Kate.

The female attendant he’d met earlier found him wandering through the warehouse of dresses and clothes, and took his arm. “Miss Steele asked that you wait in the viewing area until the ladies are ready.” She ushered him into the lounge with the dressing room doors Kate had disappeared behind earlier.

Montana paced, his patience worn thin, his need to get outside an obsession.

Fifteen very long minutes later, Tazer walked out of the back warehouse area.

Kate followed, wearing a pale cream skirt suit that fit her long, athletic body like a kid glove. The matching high heels made her legs look even longer, the tight muscles of her calves bunching with each step.

Montana’s groin tightened and he fought to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor.

Her shoulder-length hair had been swept back into one of those French twist things women liked to wear. She looked amazing.

Kate’s gaze swept him from top to bottom. “I like you with dark hair better,” she said. “But you’ll do.”

“Not to worry.” Tazer nodded to the attendant. “Could you get the handbag I left in the back?”

She nodded and hurried through the door.

Once they were alone, Tazer handed Montana a bottle of dark liquid. “Before you go out tonight, put this in your hair and let it dry. You two are now Monty and Kayla Lindemann, good friends of the Brantleys. While you’re Monty, you’ll put the dye in your hair. When you have to switch to fill in for Rex, just wash it out.”

“What about me?” Kate asked. “I can’t just dye my hair black in a flash.”

“No, but you can wear this.” She handed Kate a bag.

Kate fished inside and pulled a wig halfway out. It was long, dark and straight, like Mica Brantley’s hair. Kate nodded. “Got it.”

“I’ve arranged for you and Mica to have matching outfits for the yacht club gala. You will arrive as the Lindemanns, but if anything happens that puts Mrs. Brantley in danger, we’re pulling her and Rex out and putting you two in as their replacements.”

“The event is tomorrow. What’s happening tonight?” Montana asked.

“You’re going to meet up with Mica at the Jefferson Hotel in downtown DC. She has the Martha Jefferson Penthouse Suite. The Lindemanns will be a floor below. You’re having dinner together. We’ll have the hotel covered with your SEAL team and SOS electronic surveillance.” She handed Montana a leather briefcase. “Everything you’ll need is in the case. Familiarize yourselves with the contents on the way over. Once inside the hotel, consider everything bugged. Act, live, breathe as if you really are the Lindemanns. We don’t know how deep the traitors are entrenched and in what government entities. Trust no one but the members of the team.”

Montana nodded, his free hand tightening into a fist. To think there were traitors within the organizations he would have thought he could trust made him all the more determined to take them down.

* * *

KATE AND MONTANA stepped through the front door of the dress shop and slid into the waiting limousine. Their new clothes had been packed into designer luggage and stored in the trunk of the car. They would take the long way around the city, be dropped off at the airport and later picked up by Mica Brantley’s car.

Montana opened the case Tazer had given him and extracted their orders and a dossier detailing who they were supposed to be, how they’d met Mica and her husband and why they were visiting her at the Jefferson.

“Mica and Trevor introduced us to each other in Paris.” Kate turned to Montana. “Have you been to Paris?”

His lips twisted. “I might prefer Montana to the big cities, but yes, I’ve been to Paris. How about you?”

She nodded. Her partner had taken her to Paris over a long weekend between assignments. Little had she known he had used their weekend away as an opportunity to pass information to his Russian contact. God, she’d been a fool, thinking he was in love with her and out getting little French pastries for their breakfasts. All along, he’d been working.

“Hey.” Montana touched a finger to her chin. “We’re supposed to be newlyweds. No long faces.”

“Sorry.” She read through the pages, committing the words to memory. “I’ve got this. Do you need to see it again?”

“No.”

“It says to shred the documents.” Kate glanced around the inside of the limousine. It didn’t surprise her to find a shredder. One last glance at the pages and she pushed them through the device.

Montana extracted a ring box from the case and opened it. “Hold out your left hand.”

Kate did as he asked.

“With this ring, I thee fake wed. I promise to have your six and pretend to love, honor and cherish you until this op is over.” Montana slipped on the engagement ring with the huge emerald cut diamond and matching wedding band.

Kate snorted. “Cute.” His big hands felt rough against hers, but warm and strong. She could imagine them sliding across her bare skin. With a start, she yanked her hand away. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about the man who would play her husband. “God, I hope this isn’t real. It looks like at least three carats.”

He removed the larger, plain wedding band from the box and started to slip it onto his ring finger.

“Wait.” Kate took the band from him. “It’s only fair.”

Montana’s lips quirked. “I’ve never been accused of being unfair.”

“Well, don’t start now,” she said. “With this ring, I thee fake wed. I promise to save your butt, should the need arise...again. And should you try anything without my permission, I promise to hurt you.” Kate raised her brows. “Got it?”

He held up his hand. “Got it. I won’t try anything without your permission.” As Kate took his upraised hand and slipped the ring onto his finger, Montana muttered, “I don’t try...I do.”

Kate glared at him. “This marriage is fake. Don’t forget that.”

“Trust me. I won’t.” Montana leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brief brush of a kiss.

A blast of electricity ripped through Kate, followed by heat, searing a path through her chest and down low in her belly. She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Why did you do that?”

“Only seemed fitting, after tying the knot.” He winked, sending another rush of heat rushing through her veins. “Want me to take it back?”

She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth, her head spinning. “You can’t take something like that back. Once given, it can’t be returned.”

“Oh well, I guess you’ll have to keep it.” He smiled and sat back against the plush leather seat.

“Well, don’t do it again.” Thankfully, the car pulled up to the curb at the Baltimore International Airport and dropped them off with their luggage.

Two minutes later, Mica Brantley’s limousine arrived, picked them up and drove them back into the city.

Once they’d switched chauffeur-driven vehicles, Kate remained silent, going over the script Tazer had given them. Not only did she have to know the details about the fictitious Lindemanns, she had to be prepared to step into Mica Brantley’s shoes at a moment’s notice. She had to know Mica’s idiosyncrasies, which would be much harder to pull off if they ran into anyone who knew her and Trevor Brantley.

Over an hour since they’d left the shops, the limousine pulled up in front of the Jefferson Hotel, one of the oldest and most expensive hotels in downtown DC. Once Monty and Kayla Lindemann got settled, they were to meet Mrs. Brantley for dinner.

The chauffeur opened the door.

Montana slid out first and then bent to offer his hand to Kate.

Reluctantly, she placed her fingers against his. That same shock of electricity rippled up her arm and showered warmth throughout her body. He had her so stirred up inside, she tripped over the curb.

If Montana hadn’t reached out and yanked her into his arms, smashing her against his chest, she’d have fallen face-first on the concrete sidewalk.

Instead, she was crushed to him, his arms like steel bands around her waist. When she got her feet under her, heat rose up her cheeks. “Sorry.”

He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I’m not.” Then he hooked her with one of his big, capable hands and waved toward the door. “Ready?”

She nodded, though she couldn’t remember ever being so ill-prepared as she was at that moment. What worried her most was that she had no doubt she could play the part required. Keeping her head on straight and not falling even a little bit for the handsome SEAL would be the real challenge.

While the bellman retrieved their luggage, Montana dealt with the reception desk. Royce and Geek had been busy securing reservations, backdating them to make it appear as though Mr. and Mrs. Lindemann had planned their trip to DC weeks ago.

Kate took a moment to casually glance around the lobby, searching for anything that stood out. Suspicious characters, security cameras, lurking staff members...anything that might set off alarm bells in her head.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, nothing did. She spotted the requisite security cameras placed throughout the lobby for the protection of the wealthy guests.

A warm, rough hand curled around her elbow. “Ready?” Montana’s deep, rich voice filled her ear and spread over her body like melted butter—warm, smooth and penetrating every fiber of her being. She trembled.

How did he do that?

With a nod, she let him lead her through the lobby to the elevator.

Montana pushed the button for the seventh floor and then slipped his arm around her waist. “Feeling better?”

“I wasn’t aware I was feeling poorly.”

“You know...you don’t have a stomach for flying.” He pulled her against him.

“Oh, yes. I feel much better.” Aware of the camera in the upper right corner, she leaned into Montana. The thin fabric of her suit did little to guard her against her body’s reaction to his.

The elevator door slid open. Kate stepped out, afraid if she stayed any longer, her knees would wobble and refuse to hold her up.

Their room was the last door near the end of the hallway. A stairwell was located at the very end, marked with a sign For Emergency Use Only.

Montana ran the key card over the lock and the green light blinked. When he pushed, the door swung open on oiled hinges.

Kate entered first. Expertly decorated, the suite contained a sitting room, sleeping chamber and a large bathroom with a shower big enough to fit two.

Montana set the briefcase on a desk in the corner and flipped the spring-loaded latches. He opened the case and extracted a small monitor Kate recognized as the kind she’d used to check for surveillance devices. Bugs.

“Do you need to freshen up before we meet with Mica?” Montana asked, as he crossed to her and slipped the monitor into her palm.

“Sure, but you can go first.” She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

His irises flared and he caught her arm. “I’ll only be a minute.” Then he kissed her full on the lips.

Reeling from the rush of searing passion from the kiss, Kate stood in the middle of the room until Montana entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Having been warned that they couldn’t trust anyone, Kate had to assume even their room could be bugged. Until she swept the room to determine whether or not there were listening devices, she had to play the part.

While Montana took his time in the bathroom, she walked around the room, pretending to examine the decorations, all the while carrying the monitor in her palm. The alarm vibrated against her hand when she neared the nightstand on the right side of the bed. She leaned close and flicked the light on. A tiny metal object clung to the inside of the shade. First bug.

When she walked to the other side of the bed and leaned over the nightstand, the monitor again vibrated in her hand. As she switched on the light, she noted a second bug clinging to the inside of that shade. Walking through every part of the room and the adjoining suite, she located two more listening devices and a miniature camera affixed to the chandelier in the sitting room.

By the time she’d completed a thorough sweep, the bathroom door opened and Montana emerged.

Kate hurried toward him, plastering a smile on her face. She flung her arms around him and pulled his head down for a kiss.

“Mmm. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Montana wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close.

She leaned back. “Do I have to have a reason to kiss my husband?”

“No.” He bent and kissed her, then nuzzled her neck. “What’s up?”

“Bugs on both nightstands,” she whispered in his ear, then nibbled his earlobe. “Mmm. Maybe we should skip dinner with Mica and stay here for dessert.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Montana responded.

“Camera in the chandelier and two more bugs in the sitting room,” she breathed into his ear.

Montana gave her a very slight nod. “Mmm, you smell delicious,” he said aloud. Then in a whisper Kate had to strain to hear, he added, “Leave them or destroy?”

Her pulse hammering and her blood burning through her system, Kate struggled to push away from Montana. “We’d better leave. Mica will be expecting us.”

“Agreed.” He kissed her once more and set her at arm’s length. “We can pick up where we left off, later.”

Kate’s breath hitched in her chest and she hastily turned away before she fell back into the SEAL’s strong arms. Just the thought of picking up where they’d left off made her heart skip several beats and then run on like she’d just finished a marathon.

“I need to powder my nose,” she said, and dodged into the bathroom. A quick scan with the monitor located one more bug behind the mirror. After she’d located it, she took a moment to stare at her reflection, surprised at what she saw. Never had she looked so much like a model ready to hit the runway. This wasn’t the Kate she knew. Nothing about the face staring back at her was familiar. Especially the way she felt inside.

Yes, she could understand her attraction to the SEAL. After all, he was built like a fighting machine, solid and muscular, with the bonus of being ruggedly handsome.

Hadn’t she learned her lesson about falling for her partner? She wasn’t a brand-new agent with stars in her eyes. Been there...done that...got the demotion to prove it.

Kate applied a fresh coat of lipstick, straightened her shoulders and marched out of the bathroom.

This assignment might prove to be the hardest one she’d ever undertaken. But she’d be damned if she went down without a fight. Even if she was fighting herself.

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