Tangled Pursuit (14 page)

W
YATT WAS SHOWN
into Tal’s corner office by Lance Corporal Turner, who was about nineteen. Stepping into her office, he saw Tal standing at a drafting board, working on various missions. He kept his official face on, holding his laptop, a Toughbook, tucked away in the leather briefcase in his left hand. Removing his black baseball cap, he watched to make sure the door was fully shut before he spoke.

When she turned to face him, Wyatt saw smudges beneath Tal’s eyes.

Tal came over, her gaze never leaving his. In a low voice, she said, “We’re clean in here. Only the phone conversations are recorded.”

He nodded and tossed the cap on one corner of her desk, placing the laptop in an empty area. Sometimes, certain offices had cameras within them, recording all conversations, depending upon the nature of the sensitive documents being processed or used. “Good to know. How are you doing this morning?”

“Didn’t sleep much,” she grumbled, giving him a waspish look. “You?”

“I had some pretty hot dreams last night about a wild Turkish woman with the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen,” he deadpanned, opening the Toughbook and pressing the on button.

Her cheeks flushed as she pulled over a second chair for him. She moved over to a small hot plate in another corner and poured them both coffee. Bringing over the mugs, she sat down near him as he quickly brought up his program on his laptop.

“You should have come to bed with me instead,” he said lightly, sipping the coffee, looking at her over the rim.

“I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for sure.”

“No,” Wyatt said with a slow grin, “but you’d felt a helluva lot better than you do this morning, darlin’. Come to think of it? So would I.”

She chuckled and shook her head, muttering, “You’re incorrigible, Lockwood.”

“I like your hair in a braid,” he said, motioning to the single braid hanging down between her shoulders. “Makes you look real pretty.”

The corners of Tal’s mouth turned up as she attempted to focus on the program now on the screen. She tried to disregard Wyatt’s compliment, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that their thighs barely brushed against one another as they huddled around his Toughbook. “I was a hot mess this morning. I’m surprised the braid even came out halfway decent-looking.”

He smiled and set his coffee on the desk. “Let’s see if my program can’t help you out a bit and make the next few days a little easier on you.”

For the next ten minutes, Tal sat and listened to Wyatt. That slow Texas drawl lulled her, as usual, and she found herself wishing to be with him anywhere but here. Getting up, she handed him the first of six planned missions over the next two weeks. Wyatt quickly checked the intel and typed it into the mission brief, his fingers flying across the keyboard. All Tal could think of was those long, spare fingers of his sliding across her skin, eliciting nothing but pleasure as he discovered the places on her body yearning for his skilled, knowing touch.

As soon as Wyatt hit the return key, her eyes opened a little more as she read the analysis of the program. “I’ll be damned,” she breathed, skimming the info. “I’d have done exactly the same thing this program just came up with.”

Wyatt gave her a pleased look. “Yes, and instead of your having to mull over all that paper work and intel, this program took ten minutes to type it in and a few seconds to arrive at a decent op suggestion.”

Shaking her head in amazement, Tal gave him an appreciative look. “You are incredible, Wyatt. Can we input the second mission?”

“Sure.”

She got up and retrieved all the info and handed it to him. This one took longer, perhaps fifteen minutes, before it spit out the analysis for the mission. Tal was familiar enough with the mission and the area, and was stunned to see how accurate the analysis was. “This blows my mind, Wyatt. I’m really impressed.”

“Like it, huh?” He smiled at her.

“Like it? God, I want to keep this software program and use it on all my missions, Wyatt!”

He leaned back in the chair. “I can’t let it out of my sight, but I think you can understand why.” He motioned to the other four missions and then looked at his watch. “How about we do those four and then I take you to an early lunch?”

“I’d like that,” Tal said, still thinking about the missions and how much safer she felt already, thanks to his analysis.

“Will your office talk about this?” he asked her soberly.

She saw the concern in his eyes. “No. The only officer above me is Major Dickenson. He gives me a loose rein and doesn’t micromanage me, thank God. I can certainly adopt your program if I want to.”

“Do you work with many SEALs?”

“No, you’re the first.”

“Okay, bring over mission three and let’s see if you still like my program.”

Tal was still jolted by the accuracy of the program after they had gone through five missions. “This last one is the mission I’m taking with my spotter, Jay.” She handed him the papers.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, taking the mission folder.

Her throat closed up for a moment, his low, vibrating voice catching her off guard as he looked at her with those gray eyes that missed nothing. His game face came off. “It was—something special we shared last night,” she admitted, feeling his vulnerability once more.

“I’m just starting to get territorial about you,” he drawled, giving her a heated look.

“I’ve never had a man get territorial over me,” she admitted. “As long as territorial doesn’t mean control over me. That isn’t going to work.” She saw amusement glimmer in Wyatt’s eyes.

His mouth crooked as he typed in the info. “You don’t know what territorial is, darlin’. But soon, you will, and I swear, you’re gonna enjoy it. It’s no fun when you can’t allow your woman to be all she can be.
Territorial
is not another world for
control
. Okay? After you experience it with me, you’ll understand what I’m sayin’.”

“Okay.” Tal shivered over his gruff promise. His words swam in her head, and she thought she should feel resistance, but she didn’t, because Wyatt treated her as an equal, not as a submissive woman. She’d never stand for that kind of behavior from a man, anyway. But to be someone’s equal? Yes, she could deal with that easily. And it felt kind of nice that he was territorial regarding her and whatever was developing between them. It meant he cared, but then SEALs were well known to be super-protective of the women in their lives. She supposed she was quite territorial too, if she were brutally honest with herself. A good relationship had strong boundaries. So long as both people knew of them and agreed with them, that was the territory they shared with one another. Nothing wrong with that.

She saw Wyatt stop and read several sit reps. “What?”

“This is perishable intel, and it’s coming from a source I would not trust.” He handed it to her. “Have you read it?”

“Yes. Do you know the person who gave us the intel?”

Frowning, Wyatt said, “Hate to admit it, but yes, and he’s a weasel. Anything we get from Ahmed is always suspect. There have been times in the past when he’s gone to FOB Alpha, our sister base, and sold them information. Each time, it turned out to be false. We think he’s working for the Taliban and is feeding us bad info to set us up and ambush our teams.”

“Look, I know some intel is pretty flimsy. But I want to nail Sidiq Sharan.” Her eyes hardened. “I really want this sick, murdering bastard, Wyatt. I’ve tried a number of times to take him out. He’s mine.”

He gave her a patient look. “I thought snipers weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved with their target of opportunity.” He said the words quietly, without judgment.

Deep rage moved through Tal, but it wasn’t aimed at Wyatt. “You’ve heard the name Zakir Sharan?”

“Yes. He’s the Pakistani billionaire. We’ve got a dossier on him as thick as a man’s fist. He’s rich; he had two sons, Sidiq and Raastagar. He’s one of the founding fathers of al-Qaeda. He’s made his money in Multan, in the Indus Valley region. He owns agricultural, industrial, textile, and shipping conglomerates. Sidiq, his second-born son, was in thick of it with the Taliban here in Afghanistan. His daddy is a big-time sex trafficker and distributor. Raastagar, who you killed awhile back, was the one who came over the Afghan border to buy little boys, girls, and young women who have been kidnapped from villages. He took them across the Pak border, where his father’s people disseminated them, and they were moved to warehouses in all parts of the world. From there, they are auctioned off to the highest bidder. It’s a pretty sick business. Sidiq helps run the opium poppy business side of things here in Afghanistan and takes the product across the border to Pakistan. There, his daddy gets it distributed worldwide.”

“
Was
is the operative word here for Raastagar,” Tal grimly agreed. “I nailed him coming across the border six months ago. Now it’s Sidiq’s turn. Matt and his team are actively looking for him. Sidiq’s responsible for the fact that opium production here in Afghanistan is at its highest rate in a generation. And Zakir has made billionaire status because of the opium trade his second-born son established here.” She paced the small office. “I agree with you that perishable intel could be less than trustworthy.” She stopped and turned. “What does your program say?”

Wyatt hit the return key. Tal came and sat down, and he placed the Toughbook before her so she could read the analysis.

“No way,” Tal muttered. She scowled and pointed a finger at the screen. “It says, ‘Wait for more reliable intel.’”

“That’s right,” Wyatt said, turning to her and holding her stubborn stare. “It’s the smartest thing to do.”

“But all the CIA chatter says Sidiq is coming across in a week’s time. I want to be out there waiting for him, Wyatt.”

“Listen to me, will you? Where you would be setting up to wait for him is within a mile of the border. It’s a dicey area to begin with, and the Taliban knows we put snipers up there in the Hindu Kush mountains all the time. Why couldn’t you wait until we get a drone confirmation and facial ID recognition on him? Then you can take a chopper into a mountain area far enough ahead of him to take the shot. You and your spotter would be in a lot less danger.”

Shaking her head, she muttered, “I don’t like your program’s analysis on this last mission workup.” She stood and began pacing.

“The program analyzes information put into it, Tal. Nothing more. Ahmed is a low-level Shinwari tribesman who’s been kicked out of his own village by the chieftain. He’s just not trustworthy.”

“Often perishable intel falls into that category, Wyatt. You know that. It doesn’t stop an op from moving forward.”

He rubbed his bearded jaw, watching her stride around the room, determination written all over her. “Okay, so let me play with the program. I’ll take that piece of intel out of it. We need to find you a good area for a hide and a quick egress point just in case the Taliban decides to attack it.”

“I’ve never been attacked in a hide yet,” she said, frowning.

“There’s a first time for everything, Tal.” He lowered his voice, reaching out, capturing her hand, and squeezing it before releasing it. “Hey, I’ve just made a connection with you. I don’t want to see you in harm’s way.”

“You’re just like every other black ops guy,” she muttered, but she was calming down. “You’re getting overly protective.”

“I protect the people I care about, Tal. Now you’re included in my circle.”

She halted, struck by the serious look on his face. She liked Wyatt a lot, but things were moving way too fast for her. His kiss had ripped out the sturdy wall she’d always kept around her, but now she felt as if her world was in free fall.

Drowning in his concerned gray gaze, Tal wanted to deny any emotions she felt toward Wyatt. Love didn’t just drop out of the sky and hit someone over the head, did it? Lust did, that was for sure. There was no way she was going to use the words
love
and
Wyatt
in the same sentence. It was way too early. Hell, Alexa was always saying she was in love with every new guy who came into her life. Tal herself had loved Brian. She’d been so sure of it. But when Brian kissed her, she’d never unraveled like a ball of yarn like she did last night in Wyatt’s arms. What a confusing mess!

“Hey,” he murmured, shutting the Toughbook, “let me work on this later at my office. It’s nearly 1130. Still interested in having chow with me?” He gave her a hopeful look.

Tal couldn’t remain angry long. It was true, she had a temper. Her dad said it came from the passionate Greek side of her family. In fact, she’d never seen him angry. But then, her father and Wyatt were Texans, and they had that laid-back approach. These men didn’t appear to get ruffled by things that would set off someone like herself.

Her Greek cousin Angelo was known to fly into emotional thunderstorms, get angry, but then, just as quickly as his temper had flared, it was gone. And then he was his ebullient, extroverted self, filled with smiles, hugs, and generosity for all. She had certainly inherited Angelo’s quickness to anger.

Eyeing that Toughbook as Wyatt stood and slid it in his briefcase, she was still feeling angry about what it said, but she couldn’t hold any anger toward Wyatt. She saw understanding in his eyes. He knew what it was like to want an HVT so bad he dreamed about it. Their lives revolved around either killing or capturing them. If captured, the HVT was handed over to the CIA for interrogation.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” she finally admitted. She grabbed her green baseball cap and settled it on her head. “Let’s go,” Tal urged, opening the door.

W
YATT SAT OPPOSITE
Tal at the long steel table. They’d found the last two seats in the crowded chow hall, which presently held about three thousand men and women. He saw the petulant set of her lower lip, remembered how good she had tasted, how sweet her mouth was to him, how sensual her tongue had felt gliding against his. Her black braid had fallen across her shoulder and several tendrils of hair were loose around her temples, giving her a softer look. Wyatt ached to have this woman in his bed so he could slide his fingers through that long, shining mass.