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HANNAH WAS ON her last legs when she stumbled into the small clearing a few steps behind Mac. Two men emerged from a crevice in the side of the rock fall covering the mountainside. One went to Mac to report. The other came directly to her. Without giving her a chance to protest, he picked her up and carried her inside the cave. She swore something growled but she was probably hallucinating.
The interior was dry but cool and she shivered despite the heat the guy holding her was radiating. He set her down on a sleeping bag knelt beside her. “Not sure you remember me, Major. I’m Sergeant Donaldson, the team’s medic. I’m going to give you a quick examination now, okay?”
Hannah nodded, feeling light-headed. She watched his mouth and figured out what his words meant. She remained sitting up as he checked her ribs. Another man appeared and handed her a steaming cup of liquid. Hannah sniffed it suspiciously.
“Coffee?” Dared she hope? Or was her brain still making things up?
The man grinned at her. “Yeah.”
“Real coffee?” She actually whimpered.
Now he laughed at her. “Yeah, Major. The real McCoy.”
Hannah took a big gulp and yelped when it burned her mouth. She didn’t care. Heaven was hiding in this cup. Heaven and salvation and despite the bruises and aches, she might actually survive this ordeal.
While the medic worked on her, the other team members met with Mac outside.
“They had her before you got there and she still took out two?” Michael Lightfoot, Mac’s second in command, looked impressed.
“She ever kill before?” Jacob Nakai asked the question on everyone’s mind.
Jacob was Navajo and the oldest member of the team. He’d been a Code Talker in World War II and was over a hundred even though he looked about sixty. Wolf genes were great in that regard. Most Wolves were either Indian or had blood ties to the ancient Celts—Irish, Scottish, Welsh. A rare few came from Eastern Europe. Mac considered Jacob’s question for a moment. He blinked out of his reverie as Sean emerged from the cave. Mac was still bristling over Sean not only touching Hannah but picking her up. Holding her close to his body. He ground his teeth and forced himself to focus on what Sean was saying.
“No. Those were her first.” The medic answered Nakai’s question and then turned to him. “She’s gonna have nightmares, boss.”
“Maybe. She’s tougher than she looks.”
“That may be true but she’s done now. I slipped her a tranq in the coffee. She’ll sleep for a couple of hours at least, if not all night. I moved her to her bedroll.”
Lightfoot glanced around the circle of men before returning his serious gaze back to his commander. “Where’d that patrol come from, Mac?”
He shook his head. “Damned if I know but I’d sure like to find out.”
“You think they’re on to us?” This question came from Danny Keegan, the newest member of the unit. The kid was so young he was still wet behind the ears.
Mac shrugged. He didn’t know what to tell his team. This mission was more than top secret. No one was supposed to know their ultimate destination. Just the five of them and Joshua Harjo, their captain. Plus the man in the five-sided building who handed out their assignments. His gut heaved. Was there a leak somewhere? He glanced over his shoulder as if he could see through solid rock. He didn’t like the place his thoughts went.
Suspicious, he strode back into the cave. He dug through Hannah’s pack, then stripped her out of her BDUs and searched them. Nothing. No tracking device. No radio. No nothing. The knot in his stomach relaxed a little. It wasn’t her. Relieved, he glanced at her. He’d stripped her down to her utilitarian cotton sports bra and panties but she could have been in Victoria’s Secret for all he cared. The tranq had worked well. Hannah hadn’t stirred at all as he mauled her. He stared down at her, blinking repeatedly when his vision shifted. He had a curious sense of seeing everything clearer. His heart skipped a beat or ten. His cock jumped to attention. This was it. She was the one. He could only stare at her, feeling like he'd been cold-cocked.
Jacob padded up behind him, watched him for a moment before bending to flip the edge of the sleeping bag over the sleeping woman. “You got it bad, boy,” Jacob commiserated.
He growled and the older man laughed. “Yeah. Been there, done that. My mate got the tee shirt.”
“Mate?” Mac was surprised. He knew Nakai was married but mated? Not many wolves maintained a permanent relationship. Finding a true mate seemed practically impossible but deep down, every Wolf craved the connection.
“Been together sixty-two years next September.”
His jaw dropped. He couldn’t imagine fucking the same woman for sixty-two years. Then he looked down at Hannah. Yeah, he could.
“Wolves mate for life, boy, and the Blood Moon is coming. Don’t be doing anything stupid.” He walked away, his footfalls silent, leaving Mac to stand and stare.
HANNAH AWOKE JUST after dawn to the smell of lukewarm MREs and hot coffee. As soon as she rolled over, Sean brought her a cup of coffee. He checked her over while she sipped the magic elixir. She still felt a little shaky, and her joints ached like she had the flu. He handed her some ibuprofen.
“There’s a spot in the back of the cave, around that corner,” he said, indicating the direction with a tilt of his head. “You’ll have some privacy.”
He helped her stand and held a steadying hand under her elbow while she found her balance. Sean did his very best not to grin at the rumbling growl echoing through the cavern. He didn’t have to look at his team leader to know who was responsible for the noise.
Hannah shuffled to the dark recess and did her business. Coming back around the corner, something tickled her throat and she scratched while tugging the neckline of her shirt. That’s when she realized her drab olive tee shirt was on backwards. She’d immediately gotten drowsy after drinking the coffee last night and deduced the medic had sedated her. This morning, she was glad since she’d slept so soundly. Now? Somebody had taken liberties and she was pissed as hell. Any lethargy or residual fogginess was erased by a surge of adrenaline. She marched out into the cave and straight up to Mac. Standing toe to toe, she ordered him outside.
Mac’s eyes flashed a deep, feral red and his men exchanged wary glances. Nobody challenged an alpha like that. Nakai just smiled.
“You got something to say to me, you can say it right here,” Mac snarled.
“Fine,” Hannah snarled back. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Sergeant Major?”
“The leader of this mission,” he growled.
“And I’m a superior officer,” she snapped.
“Not on my turf, baby.”
“That’s Major Baby to you, you fucking alpha bastard. Who the hell took my clothes off last night?”
He staggered back two steps. Red and black swirls clouded his vision. Someone took off her clothes? Someone touched her? Someone besides him? He forced a deep breath into his lungs. Oh, yeah. He’d stripped her down to bra and panties looking for a tracking device. Talk about a d’uh moment.
“Me.” He didn't bother to feel sheepish. None of the men moved a muscle. If one had, he probably would have gone for the jugular even as part of his brain registered their amusement.
Hannah’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. She looked stunned, gasping for words like a fish trying to breathe out of water. “You?” She choked on the word.
“Yeah. The mission’s been compromised. I was making sure you weren’t a plant.”
“A plant?” That set her off again. “You thought I was a gawddamed spy? Go to hell, Sergeant Major. I’m the best fucking friend you and this unit have. If it weren’t for me, you’d already be in civilian hands and god knows what they’d be doing to you and your men.”
Oops. Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Talk about letting the cat out of the bag.
Mac grabbed her around the both biceps, lifted her off the ground, and shook her. Her headache roared back to life as stars sparkled in front of her eyes.
“Put her down, Wolf.” Jacob's quiet voice left no room for argument.
Mac glared at him then looked at Hannah. She was pale and shaking, her face twisted in pain.
“Oh, god, baby,” he murmured. He didn’t put her down. Instead he cradled her to his chest and whispered words into her hair as he kissed her cheek and temple.
The men all took a deep breath. Michael exchanged a long look with Sean. Jacob had been right when he talked to them last night. Whether Mac or the major liked it or not, their Alpha was in the process of claiming his mate and this was a hellava time for the complication of a moonstruck Wolf.
Hannah’s teeth chattered and her skin felt hot to his touch. Mac wanted to kick himself. He carried her over to his bedroll and set her down. Squatting beside her, he glanced at his men. They all moved to the far side of the cave. Not that it mattered. Wolf hearing was acute and even if he spoke in whispers, they would hear what was said.
“I’m sorry, Hannah.” She stared at him, big blue eyes glazed with shock and pain, making him even more uncomfortable than he already was. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the tension. He damn sure didn’t need the complications of a mating ritual in the middle of a compromised mission. A moonstruck Wolf in mating heat didn’t think very clearly. Had something to do with all the blood rushing from the brain to the balls. He reached out to touch her cheek, thankful she didn’t flinch. Still, her eyes held fear that tore at his heart.
“There’s more going on here than you realize.” He gentled his voice despite the urgency he felt. “I need to know why you are here. Why here and why now?” He took a deep breath. He'd have to tell her sooner than later. Wolves mated for life. He’d never let her go. Couldn’t let her go. “Once we get out of this mess, we have other things to discuss as well.”
“Oh, like, I show you mine and you show me yours?”
Mac’s cock flared to life. Oh, yeah, he definitely wanted to see hers and show her what his could do. He bit his tongue. “Hannah, that patrol wasn’t supposed to be there. This mission is white ops.”
She stared at him. Black ops meant all secret information was blacked out of reports and personnel files. Some redacted reports went up the chain and the only words left on the page were prepositions, pronouns and a few participles. White ops meant that the mission was a blank page. It wouldn’t appear in any file. Anywhere. White ops was beyond secret. White ops really was a situation of “if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Shit.”
“You’re tellin’ me, darlin’.”
“That’s Major Darlin’ to you.”
He grinned at her, relaxing a little as her sass reasserted itself. “There is no way you could have contacted anyone before we took off.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Okay, you might be good enough...” She arched both brows. “What? You’re good but you ain’t that good, babe.”
“I think I liked darlin’ better,” she muttered.
Mac fought a grin at her spunk. “Why are you really here?”
Fully aware the rest of the team was hanging on every word, she told him. When a private think tank approached the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs dispatched her to Area 51 to investigate. She’d suspected there was some really scary stuff going on in Nevada but she couldn’t get to the deepest sub-levels to find out exactly what was involved. So much of the R&D at 51 was medical or highly technical, civilian contractors outnumbered military personnel. With the exception of the seven SEALS who were even now being secreted away by the Navy, everything at 51 was now in civilian control.
Hannah hadn’t trusted the civilian director in charge and had serious misgivings about his military liaison. She’d spoken briefly with some of the military personnel and they’d all confirmed her gut reactions. Two weeks after her return to Washington, all military personnel had been transferred from 51 and none had cycled in to replace them.
A suspicious soul by nature, Hannah started digging. Under her pain-staking scrutiny, the think tank morphed into a paper tiger. Every one of the addresses and phone numbers were blinds. None of the board members could be reached. And when she contacted the facility directly, all of the scientists were unavailable for interviews.
She’d gone to check on the Atlantis program and her suspicions were confirmed there as well. A Navy Commander took her warnings to heart. At his urging, the Navy declared Atlantis a failure and the members of the program were supposedly transferred to other units and then dismissed from the service—only they weren’t. They were serving in a top secret unit that was more smoke and mirrors than fact. Not even Hannah knew where the SEALs had gone and that’s the way she wanted to keep it.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs then dispatched her to check on the Wolves. The think tank engaged in some serious lobbying about taking the Wolves private. Phrases like mercenary force and plausible deniability floated around the Pentagon and Department of Defense.
The problem with the Wolves was that they had been around for over two hundred years. Francis Marion, the famed Swamp Fox, had used them during the Revolutionary War. They were part of Andrew Jackson’s forces at the Battle of New Orleans the winter of 1814. During the Civil War, Wolves rode with J.E.B. Stuart, the Gray Ghost, while others marched with Sherman to the sea. The military finally got smart and created the 69th Special Operations team. The 69th filled a unique niche the Army was loath to lose. Since the Chairman was an Army general, he’d personally taken an interest in the situation.
Hannah’s job was to gather enough information to prove the unit needed to stay not only an active Army component, but a highly secret one immune to any outside influence. Though their missions were already top secret, the 69th was a coveted assignment even by those soldiers without the qualifications to be a Whiskey Team member. There were armorers, quartermasters, and cooks. There were mechanics, drivers, and clerks. Though there were only three active Whiskey teams, over fifty soldiers provided support to each team. After two hundred years, it would be a little tough to declare the Wolves a failure and disband the unit.
The men gathered closer as Hannah confessed everything to Mac, but they made sure to keep him between them and the woman. A moonstruck alpha male was not an animal to trifle with. Sean watched Hannah for signs of shock or other problems. He sincerely hoped that Mac fucked her soon. If the big man didn’t, none of them would be able to get within a hundred feet of her without a fight.
“So,” she finished up. “What do we do now?”
“We’ll stay here today and part of tonight,” Mac declared. “If the mission is compromised, they’ll expect us today as per the original timetable. Before midnight at the latest. If we don’t show up, maybe they’ll think their patrol got us. They didn’t have any communications devices. The black hats won’t know that patrol is carrion chow. We’ll hit just before dawn tomorrow.”
Hannah stared at him. She glanced around at the other men but they all seemed comfortable with his decision. “If the mission is compromised, it won’t matter when you go in, they’ll be expecting you.”
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, the men all skedaddled out of the cave, leaving Hannah alone to face Mac.
“You trying to pull rank again,” he growled.
“No. I just don’t want you or any of the others going home in a body bag.”
He stared at her long and hard but she refused to look away. “We don’t go home in body bags, Major. If one of us dies in the line of duty, the body is burned.” His voice sounded so brittle she swore the temperature in the cave dropped ten degrees. “There can be no evidence of our true existence. Ever.”
