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HANNAH DUCKED THROUGH the door leaving behind bright sunshine. She paused as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside the restaurant and to scan the room for Mac’s imposing bulk. He wasn’t there. She glanced at the phone still clutched in her hand to make sure she’d read his text message correctly. This was the place.
A hostess walked up, a smile spreading across her face. “Meeting your husband here?” Hannah blinked in confusion as the woman continued. “I’ll show you to your table. He had to step out for a moment.”
Still on autopilot, Hannah followed and dropped down on the chair that faced the room. Had Mac been there, he would have occupied that spot. She’d relinquish it when he returned. Her phone dinged and she read his next message.
GO TO LADIES ROOM.
She heaved out of her chair and glanced around. As a waitress approached, she asked for directions and followed them. The hallway was brightly lit and she could easily read the signs on the doors as she traversed its length, though another text came through before she reached the restroom.
ALARM ON DOOR DISABLED IM IN ALLEY
More than a little nervous and slightly pissed over the cloak and dagger routine, Hannah pushed through the door and stepped out. Mac was waiting, looking anxious. Of even more concern, Lightfoot guarded one end of the alley while Sean waited at the other.
“What’s going on?”
“We’ve got to go, baby. C’mon.” He stuck a hat on her head and tugged on the brim. “Keep your head down”
She wanted to dig in her heels but instinct spurred her to follow Mac. By the time they reached Sean, Lightfoot had caught up to them. In moments, the four of them joined the flow on the crowded sidewalk, separate but together. Mac steered her into a parking garage but held her back from the elevators while the other two Wolves sprinted up the stairs. A few minutes later, an elevator arrived, with Sean inside.
No one said anything until they reached the 6th level. Mac guided her out of the elevator just as Lightfoot pulled up in a Ford Expedition. She climbed into the back seat, followed by Mac while Sean jumped into the front. More than a little freaked out by all their secretive behavior, she faced Mac.
“What the hell, Mac?”
“We need to talk, baby.”
Something about the timbre of his voice had her studying his face. “Fuck, Mac. What’s happened?”
“We lost Whiskey Team Charlie.”
“Wait. What? Lost them? Lost them how?” Currently, there were only three active Whiskey teams in the 69th —Bravo, which was Mac’s team, Charlie, and Delta. “They weren’t on a mission.”
“No, they weren’t.” Mac’s expression hardened. “It was reported as a training accident. Chopper crash. Allegedly.”
Hannah’s eyebrows tried to hold hands as she furrowed her brow. “Are you saying there wasn’t a chopper crash?” She was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation, especially since no word of any accident had come across her desk.
“No, it was allegedly a training accident. The chopper crashed and burned, with the men of Charlie Team on board.”
“I’m...” She breathed and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips. “I’m not following, Mac.”
“Charlie team was sent on a training mission. Their chopper allegedly crashed, killing all on board.”
“Okay?”
“Except not everyone died.” Mac’s gaze flicked to Sean.
“I saw the pilot of that chopper, Major. Two days after the alleged accident. Alive and breathing.”
Her brain finally caught up. “Wait. What are you saying, Mac? They were killed? Intentionally?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh fuckityfuckfuck. Fuckitallthewaytohell. Andbackagain.” She forced air into her lungs. “Captain Harjo?”
“Doing his best to uncover the cover up.”
“Start at the beginning. No, first. What about you guys?”
“We’re good. No missions, training or otherwise. Same with Delta.”
While Mac filled her in, Lightfoot drove aimlessly around Washington, often doubling back or making last minute turns. Hannah’s brain once again caught up. “Are we being followed?”
Lightfoot caught her gaze in the rear view mirror. “Not anymore.”
“I want you to take early maternity leave, Hannah.” Mac’s voice was very soft but each word was underlined with steel.
She held her tongue until they were behind the doors of a hotel room on the outskirts of DC, where Nakai and Danny awaited them. None of the Wolves said anything, their attention focused on Mac. He stood at the window, watching the snarl of traffic crawl by outside. Two queen-sized beds, a long dresser with the TV bolted to it and a round table with two chairs filled the room. Danny had been sprawled on one bed, watching TV, but he’d shut it off and now sat on the edge of the bed. Nakai sat in one of the chairs, but the other had been pushed back from the table.
Sean shoved that chair so hard the table wobbled when the two pieces of furniture collided. “We need a planning session with Captain Harjo and Delta team.”
Mac didn’t turn around. “No. Just us. We don’t know who to trust.” He glanced toward Hannah. “C’mon, babe. I’ll take you to our room so you can rest.”
“Excuse me?”
Leaving the window, he faced the room. “We need to make contingency plans.”
“We do, yes.”
“Not you. Us.” Mac indicated the other Wolves with a sweep of his eyes.
“Oh? Really?” Her tone had everyone but Mac edging toward the door.
“Hon, you’re pregnant. You need to rest.”
“Did you just fucking go there? Seriously? The hell with you, Sergeant Major. I outrank you.”
“Dammit. We aren’t having this fight again.”
“No. We aren’t.” She blanched as the full implications of Mac’s statement hit. “You don’t trust me.” Each word burst out covered in bitterness.
“Now, Hannah—”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Ian McIntire. Don’t you dare. You can’t placate me. You don’t trust me. Fine. Well, here’s the deal, slick. You can’t do a damn thing about this situation. I can. Because I’m the fucking major and you’re just a pissant Command Sergeant Major.”
Mac reached for her but she backed away, putting the entire room between them. “Don’t you fucking touch me. You don’t have that right. Not now, not ever.” She flicked her right hand. “If they stay, I stay.” She muttered a string of curse words of which only “fuckwit” was recognizable. “You don’t fucking get it, Sergeant Major. I’ve been working to get the Sixty-ninth disbanded, personnel reassigned. I’ve been working my gawddamned ass off to get everyone away safely. I’m this fucking close.”
He opened his mouth to say something but she was across the room in a flash. Nailing him in the chest with both hands, she hit hard enough he stumbled back half a step. “But I wasn’t fast enough and Charlie team is dead because of it.” Tears glistened on her cheeks and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “Fucking hormones. It’s my job to keep you safe. All of you. Let me do my job. Even if you don’t trust me.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it.”
“Seriously? You don’t trust your commanding officer. You don’t trust the other Whiskey team. Why the flying monkey shit would you trust me, you fuckwit?” She balled her hands into fists, keeping her arms stiff at her sides and breathed through her nose.
Mac scrubbed at his scalp with curved fingers. “Dammit, babe.”
“I am not your babe. Just your baby mama.”
“I’ve asked you to marry me.” His eyes glinted feral red as he took a step toward her, his own fists held stiffly at his sides. “And this is completely different. You being involved is...It’s too dangerous.”
“And being married to a Wolf isn’t?” Laughter tinged with hysteria burst out and Hannah clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. “You just don’t get it, Command Sergeant Major. Someone—someone with real power and way up the chain of command—is hunting Wolves. Let me do my fucking job. I’ll cover your asses, get you far away, make you untouchable.”
“How?”
Hannah seemed to wilt and was surprised when Sean guided her to the empty chair. She was tired, so damn tired. Tired of being scared, of being alone, of Mac. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t sort out her feelings for him or for the baby growing inside her. The kid decided to say hi, kicking so hard her tummy rippled. She pushed hair off her forehead before propping her chin up on one hand, with her elbow braced on the table. “It’s what I do, Mac. Numbers. Analysis. Moving things around. Hiding them in plain sight. It’s what I’ve been trying to do since Bosnia.” Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath and she exhaled sigh. “I failed Charlie team. I won’t fail Bravo or Delta.”
“Fine. Just...fine.”
“Good. Now get out of my way. I need to call a cab and get back to work.”
HANNAH FLIPPED THROUGH the file on her desk, anger swelling in her chest until she couldn’t breathe. There was no way to sugar coat it. She marched—or more precisely, waddled, being almost eight months pregnant—to Colonel Bradshaw’s office. She chugged past his aide like the Little Engine That Could.
“You can’t—”
She shut the door in his face and pivoted toward the man who’d been her mentor for years.
“Major?”
“Colonel.”
“You seem a mite perturbed.”
“Ya think?” She slammed the file on his desk. “What the hell’s going on?”
He pursed his lips and inhaled, giving her a moment to calm down. She arched an eyebrow instead.
“Precisely what we feared, Major.”
She dropped onto a chair. “Then we need to disband the Wolves. Now.”
“We can’t.”
“Why the fuck not? Do you want the rest of these men to die?”
“These things take time.”
“I can transfer or separate everyone from service by the end of the week. And make it look like business as usual.”
“Hannah, I know you think you’re helping them, but this situation is far more complicated than you realize.”
“Complicated? Fuckin’ A, Colonel. Men are dead. There’s a cover-up. Damn straight it’s complicated. And now it’s deadly.”
“Watch your language in this office, Major.”
Hannah snapped her jaw shut, biting off her next tirade. Seething, she plastered on a decent facsimile of a poker face.
“I’m handling the situation, Major. You’re close to your maternity leave. You should be more concerned with the birth of your child than this other stuff. Have you decided to inform the father yet?”
Heat flashed across her skin, followed by icy cold. Had he figured out Mac was the father? No, she wouldn’t go there. The colonel was her mentor. He’d taught her almost everything she knew about working behind the scenes. And she’d made damn sure to keep her relationship with Mac out of the office.
“It might be wise, in fact, if you took early leave.”
What the fuck? Was her CO conspiring with Mac now? She breathed through her anger and ignored the twinge low in her belly. “Are you insinuating I can no longer do my job, Colonel?”
Bradshaw hurried to placate her and Hannah knew she was being handled. And resented the shit out of it.
“All I’m saying is that you have a lot on your plate. I’m investigating the helicopter crash, Major. All information gathered to this point indicates it was just what it appears—a tragic training exercise caused by a malfunction in the helicopter’s tail rotor, possibly from a bird strike. This country needs the Sixty-ninth. Despite your personal feelings in the matter, the men assigned do necessary work. Secret work.”
Secrets. That’s what it came down to. Fucking secrets. Eight good men were dead. Eight Wolves. Who was next? Mac? The others in his unit? Not on her gawddamned watch. Colonel Bradshaw wanted secrecy? She could damn sure give it to him.
“You’re right, Colonel.” The words soured her stomach but she sounded so sincere saying them. “I have a few things to clear off my desk. I’ll take a few days to close those files and then take leave.”
“I think that’s a smart decision, Major.”
She saluted, pivoted and headed toward the door. She had her hand on the knob when she looked back over her shoulder. “I’ll resign my commission before I go on maternity leave.”
Bradshaw looked shocked and his mouth worked a moment before he formed words to go with his thoughts. “Don’t resign yet. Wait until after the baby comes. You might decide you want to come back. Your job will be here for you when you come back.”
“Not when. If.”
“You’ll be back.”
