Navy SEAL Newlywed. Elle James
Читать онлайн книгу.
nodded. “I’m betting the World Health Organization didn’t send those boxes.”
“What we need is one of those guns so that we can trace the serial number on it back to the manufacturer. Short of going to Honduras to get one, we should exhaust all other stateside options first.”
“Okay, what options?” The SEAL beside her crossed his arms, which made his biceps appear bigger than they already did.
Tracie had to focus on the road to keep from openly drooling. The man had testosterone oozing from every pore. For a moment she forgot Rip’s question—then it came back to her. “I was hoping you had some ideas. We think the DEA agent’s boss had to have been receiving data from him. He might have other operatives inside the terrorist group or in nearby towns.”
“And how do we find Dan Greer’s boss?”
Tracie snorted softly. “Hank already has. He was able to tap into the DEA database and extract that information.” Hank had the connections, the computer power and a technical guru who could tap into any system.
“I’m surprised Hank hasn’t already contacted the agent’s boss.”
A muffled beep sounded in the console between them. Tracie lifted a cell phone out of a cup holder and glanced down at a text. Her lips formed a broad smile. “As a matter of fact, he has. We have a meeting with Morris Franks in Atlanta in three hours.”
Rip gave her a doubtful smile. “Honey, it takes a lot longer than three hours to drive to Atlanta.”
She turned onto a highway and jerked her head toward a green sign with an airplane depicted in white. “What did I say about having Hank’s Citation X available?” Tracie softened. As a former FBI agent, she remembered how unbelievable Hank’s assets were when she’d first been exposed to them. “Prepare to be impressed.”
Instead of driving through the terminal area of the Biloxi airport, she drove on to the private businesses’ hangars along the runway and parked outside one of them.
As they climbed out of the truck, the door to the structure opened and a man stepped out. “Right this way, Mr. & Mrs. Gideon. I’m Tom Callahan. We’ve topped off the fuel, your pilot has performed the preflight checklist and he’s filed the flight plan. The jet is ready for takeoff whenever you two say the word.” Tom smiled. “And congratulations on your recent marriage.”
Tracie almost did a double take until she remembered that was their cover story. “Th-thank you.”
A hand settled at the small of her back. “It all happened so quickly, we’re still getting used to it, aren’t we, dear?” Rip guided her through the doorway into a reception area.
Tom led the way past a desk to another door that opened into the hangar where a shiny new Citation X airplane sat on the tarmac. The huge hangar door slid open, sunlight cutting a wide swath into the dim interior.
“Shall we?” Tracie asked.
Rip waved a hand. “Ladies first.” Tracie climbed the short set of stairs into the cabin and took the first seat on the far side.
Ducking to keep from bumping his head, Rip entered the cabin and dropped into the seat beside her.
As soon as they were aboard, a flight attendant pulled the door closed, and the engines ignited.
Soon the small jet, with seating for twelve, taxied down the runway and lifted smoothly into the air.
“Okay, now I’m impressed,” Rip whispered. “How long will it take to get to Atlanta?”
Tracie glanced at her watch. “We should be there in less than an hour. In the meantime, we should go over what data the DEA agent was able to pass off before he died and the after-action report, one more time to see if we missed anything.”
RIP STARED ACROSS the narrow aisle at Tracie.
With her long, slender legs crossed at the knees and one of her red high heels bouncing with barely leashed energy, she still didn’t look like a trained operative. He was less than thrilled at the idea of Hank sending a woman to help him. He’d rather have had a man to work with. Women tended to complicate things. His natural urge to protect women and children might get in the way of a successful operation. This operation has been dangerous thus far and will only get worse. I’m not entirely sold on the idea of working with a woman.
“If it makes you feel any better, I used to work for the FBI. I received my training at Quantico and I’ve been a field agent for more than five years. I worked undercover along the Mexican border to help stop several drug-and human-trafficking rings. I know how to handle a gun, and I’m not afraid to use one.”
Rip nodded in deference to her risky and dangerous duty assignments. “Have you ever been in the jungles of Honduras?”
“No, but I’ve been held hostage in a cave in Mexico and survived. I know what hard work, prior planning and enemy engagement is all about. Don’t let the dress fool you.” She raised her hand, holding the cell phone up. “But, if you’re still worried about working with a woman, I can contact Hank now and have him send another agent to replace me.”
He liked her spunk and the fact she wasn’t taking any crap from him. Rip sat back in his seat. “What I don’t understand is why Hank sent you. I thought he was all about cowboys.”
She shrugged, making that movement look entirely too sexy, her creamy white shoulders in stark contrast with the bright red dress. “As I already mentioned. I grew up on a ranch. Hank likes his cowboys—or girls—to have that ranch-life work ethic and sense of morals and values.”
“I don’t know Hank Derringer. All I have to go on is my buddy Jim Monahan’s word.”
Tracie’s lips quirked upward and she stared out the window. “Hank and his team saved my life. I have nothing but respect for the work they do.”
“Just what is it he does?” Rip asked.
“He champions the truth and justice when other organizations can’t seem to get it right or have corruption in their ranks.” As she spoke, her jaw hardened and her mouth pulled into a tight line.
“Why did you give up on the FBI?” Rip asked.
“You know that part about corruption in the ranks?” She snorted. “Well, let’s just say, I wouldn’t be alive if I had relied only on the organization I had sworn into.”
“Surely not all of the FBI is rotten.” Rip studied her.
Tracie glanced his way. “No, not all of the agents are. But Hank made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. After two of the agents I worked with went bad, I was ready for a fresh start.”
Rip turned away and stared out the window. He knew how she felt. As a member of the Navy SEALs, Rip had been trained to rely on his brothers in arms. When one went bad, as one had on the mission in Honduras, it shook his entire foundation of trust. Especially since the bad apple had been the leader of the mission, the now deceased Gunnery Sergeant Frank Petit. Rip’s friend, James Monahan, a man he’d put his complete faith in, had helped to expose Gunny for the traitor he was.
What worried him even more was that they still had no idea who had paid Gunny to leak the information about their mission. He suspected it was someone higher up. Someone in Washington.
For a long moment, he sat in silence, reliving the past few weeks. He was only just recovered from the assassin’s gunshot wound. If not for his best friend and a former SEAL teammate, he wouldn’t have made it. That fact alone gave him hope for humanity. There were good people out there. His glance shifted to Tracie. She might be one of them. Only time would tell.
After what seemed like only a handful of minutes, the jet began its descent into Atlanta.
The plane’s tires kissed the runway with barely