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Where the hell is Coop? For what seemed like the hundredth time, Travis surveyed the meadow below and the line of trees surrounding it, tuning in to the sounds of the night. He couldn’t wait around forever. The full moon had already begun its descent toward morning. Leaving now would barely allow him enough time to sneak back into camp before the others awoke and noticed he was gone. What was keeping his partner?
The forest was way too quiet for his liking. Pine branches swayed gently in the wind, causing the pattern of shadows on the ground around him to meld and then break apart. Eerie to a San Diego born-and-bred man like himself. Fifteen years of overseas missions with his SEAL team in situations that made his skin crawl should have prepared him for anything. Still, a good old-fashioned police siren or some jerk's incessant horn-honking would be welcome about now.
Lately, too much alone time seemed to always end with a damn hard-on, courtesy of one Jordan Hayes, who’d gotten under his skin after a chance encounter at a local bar a week ago. Damned if he could get her slender figure and to-die-for legs out of his head. Not only was she gorgeous by any man’s estimation, but her below-the-shoulder hair had curled enticingly around his fingers as he grasped the back of her head to pull her close. The silky strands were dark brown to match her eyes—eyes so deep he’d damn near lost himself within them. The bright yellow cotton dress she’d worn had displayed a delectable amount of skin and bathed her in a golden hue. The thought of that dress, bunched at the top of her thighs as she straddled his lap, would surely be his undoing.
A small herd of deer meandered into the meadow just below him, grazing unhurriedly until the wind changed directions. The animals caught his scent and bounded away. As they disappeared, another movement jerked his attention to the far side of the meadow.
A tall, broad-shouldered form separated from the trees and stood for a moment in full view. Travis removed a coin from his pants pocket and briefly let it catch the moon’s rays. The figure melted back into the shadows. Signal received.
He palmed the coin and traced the Navy SEAL trident that graced the center against a backdrop of blue. Circled by silver and the words the only easy day was yesterday, his challenge coin represented who he was and had been earned with blood. It was one of a severely limited number of possessions he prized. He twirled it through his fingers and tucked it back in his pocket.
Maybe now he could get his mind off Jordan and back on his job. Why she was always front and center in his thoughts was a question he wasn’t ready to debate. He should have just taken her home or, better yet, called her a cab. But he’d wanted to taste her lips so damn bad. Then she’d kissed him, and he’d lost his mind for a minute.
When he’d finally pushed her away, he’d witnessed everything parade through her eyes—rejection, embarrassment, regret, and acceptance with wisdom beyond her years. If she’d screamed at him that he was just like everyone before him who’d refused to value her, he wouldn’t have been any more convinced of the depth of her pain. And it pissed him off.
Not at her, but the result had been the same.
Travis had wanted to see her again, but she’d shown him the door, literally. Any other woman kicking him out would have been fine. Once burned made a man twice as careful. And his high-school-sweetheart-turned-fiancée had burned him badly. Never again. So, get over it. It’s not the first time my natural charm cost me the girl, and it won’t be the last.
It was nearly fifteen minutes before he caught sight of James Cooper again, a hundred yards below, sheltered within the trees and moving quickly up the ridge toward where Travis stood. His partner’s soundless progress over the rough terrain caused a smile to tug at Travis’s lips. He’d not expected his former SEAL team member to forget his training and leave a trail any amateur could follow, but it was still comforting to know Coop was taking care of business. After all, he had a fiancée to go home to now.
Travis shook his head, considering the odds of his three closest friends finding their soulmates over the past two years after leaving the Navy and starting their private security business. Hell, he wasn’t even sure there was such a thing, but if there was, he’d blown his chance years ago. But that wouldn’t keep him from being happy for Luke, MacGyver, and Coop.
Travis strode forward and gripped Coop’s hand, pulling his friend in for a bro-hug and hearty slap on the back. Coop stepped away, and concern bubbled through his expression before his features relaxed into his customary grin.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.” Travis retreated into the shadows and crouched beside the backpack he’d dropped at the base of the pine tree.
Coop knelt beside him. “Hey, it’s deer season. There are probably a few dozen hunters camped in these mountains tonight. Most of them are drinking and don’t have much respect for the law. I didn’t figure it was a good time to make Bambi noises.”
“I hear that.” Which made Travis’s next question even more pertinent. “What’s so damned important it couldn’t wait?”
Coop broke eye contact first. “Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to see your ugly mug?”
Travis chuckled as the bonds of brotherhood tightened around his hardened heart. Coop was his best friend. Fifteen years and hundreds of missions in Middle Eastern hellholes had cemented their friendship and trust. They’d been through hell and back together, starting with the Navy SEAL training program. Coop had stopped seeing him as a person of color long ago until this mission appeared on their radar.
Once you traveled east of the Cascades, Oregon wasn’t exactly known for its diversity, making the area perfect for swastika-wearing, domestic terrorist groups to hide in plain sight. Naturally, Travis’s fair-skinned, blond-haired friend, Coop, had thought he should be the one to embed within Brody’s organization. But Special Agent Roberts, their FBI handler, had proposed a different plan—one that had put the worry in Coop’s eyes.
Travis snorted a laugh. “Don’t tell me you miss me with Jade taking up all of your spare time. How’s she doing, anyway?” Coop had almost lost her five months ago when a bullet to the chest had slowed down life for the snarky Air Force veteran.
“Great. Almost as good as new.”
“Set a date yet?”
“Since you’re my best man, you’ll be the first to know.” A wide grin spread over Coop’s face.
“Damn straight, bro.”
Coop paused, and his humor disappeared. “There’s been a new development. Senator Mann’s son went missing two days ago, and eye-witness accounts of his last known sighting suggest his disappearance might be related to Brody’s group of hate-mongers. Senator Mann is getting impatient. She wants an in-your-face hostage rescue suitable for the five o’clock news. If the law-and-order senator doesn’t get her son back soon, she’s threatening to call in the National Guard and start a private war on domestic terror. So far, Roberts has been able to buy time, but he’s getting his ass chewed daily. His concern is that Mann will let it slip to the media that there’s an undercover operative in Brody’s training facility.”
“That camp is armed for trouble. Brody won’t back down, the crazy son of a bitch.” Travis had embedded with Brody’s crew to save as many innocent lives as possible. Damn politicians—they always have to make it harder than it needs to be.
“The FBI hasn’t determined if William Mann is a hostage or if he voluntarily joined Brody’s group. I texted you his picture.” Coop rubbed the back of his neck.
Travis didn’t need any more complications but nodded in acknowledgment. “There’s not much cell service at the camp. If you have a photo, let me take a look.” He took the phone Coop extended and studied the beefy-looking, twenty-something man with sandy-colored hair nearly brushing the collar of his shirt. Travis had never seen him before and doubted Brody would bring him into his training camp.
He handed the phone back to Coop. “As a hostage, he’s a dead man unless we get to him first. If he’s in on it, they could make him the new face of white supremacy to embarrass the senator. Either way, we need to know the target or targets they plan to hit and who’s the brains behind the operation.” Without the answers to those questions, they were merely treading water.
“Still no sign of Brody’s boss?” Coop returned his cell phone to his pocket.
“No, but we’re expecting a guest any day, and he must be important. Brody’s trying to keep the boys clean and sober, so we make a good impression. And that’s no easy task.” Brody was second-in-command, and whoever he reported to had been extremely careful not to openly connect his name to the weaponry the group had stockpiled. Not surprisingly, the FBI wanted the top man. “Has surveillance on Halstead’s ranch turned up anything?”
“Nothing to link him to Brody. It’s been like a graveyard until a couple of days ago. Surveillance indicates Halstead’s nephew and at least one of his men are planning a trip.” Coop picked up a bundle of three pine needles near his foot and ripped it apart, evidence of his frustration.
Travis was more a fist-in-your-face kind of guy. “The FBI hit a wall with their investigation, which is why they brought us in. If I can earn Brody’s trust, we can get all of our questions answered at once.” Special Agent Roberts suspected Joseph Halstead, a wealthy resident of a small community a few miles northwest of Brody’s training camp. Halstead had come to the top of the cesspool after attending the Charlottesville rally in 2017. Since then, he’d tempered his white nationalist rhetoric, at least in public, and rumor had him making a run for the Oregon legislature. Brody’s munitions camp had opened for the business of making bombs three weeks ago. The FBI hired PTS Security to gain a closer perspective.
Coop focused on the meadow as the moonlight danced in checkered patterns through the swaying branches above. “Maybe it’s time to call it. Arrest Brody and see if he’ll flip.”
“Trust me. Brody won’t flip. He’ll do time because he believes in his cause.”
Coop pushed to his feet. “All the more reason you shouldn’t be here. The guy’s a loose cannon, filled with hate and drunk on propaganda.”
Travis took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s starting to sound like you think I can’t do the job.” He knew that wasn’t the case, but he tired of Coop belaboring the point.
“Damn it. You know Brody’s MO. There’s only one reason he hired you—you had the nerve to be black when you knocked on his door. Best case scenario, he’s not ever going to trust you. Worst case? One of his bombs goes off accidentally while you’re wearing it. It’s too damn dangerous. I can’t believe Luke and MacGyver went along with the plan.” Coop raked a hand through his close-cropped blond hair and turned his back.
Even though his friend wasn’t looking, Travis wiped the smile off his face. He’d suspected as much. Luke and MacGyver had agreed with SS Roberts that Travis would take point on the op. Coop was right. Brody had hired him without thinking twice because he was black. The boss man assumed he’d gotten himself a strong, hard-worker, too ignorant to wonder why he was unloading shipments of AK 47s and C4. There’d be no reason to consider whether he could trust Travis. Brody only had to ensure no one walked away from this except him and his superior race.
On the other hand, Coop would have had to prove himself worthy of trust, and Brody didn’t trust anyone.
Travis rose to his feet, moved alongside Coop, and bumped his shoulder. “You know that’s why I need to be here, right? This isn’t just another op to me. Brody and whoever is pulling his strings need to go down. Hard. Legally, if possible, but I’m open to making it up as I go. In fact, I’m just the man for the job.”
A short laugh escaped Coop, and he shook his head. “Shit, I figured.”
“Besides, you’ll have my back, right?”
“Hell, yeah. You know it.”
Travis clapped a hand over Coop’s shoulder. “We’ll find the senator’s kid, but we need to identify the target first, or a lot of people are going to get hurt. Brody’s VIP might be the guy with the answers. Let’s give it a few more days.” Travis had hoped to lighten the mood but only got a scowl from Coop.
“If Roberts can keep the senator on the sidelines.” Clearly, Travis hadn’t convinced his friend. Their gazes locked for a moment, and they both nodded. Coop turned to go. “Keep in touch.” He started down the ridge.
Travis kept an eye on him until Coop regained the comparative safety of the trees. Whether or not they agreed on the timeline, there was no doubt Coop would watch his back. His partner had never let him down.
The moon had disappeared while they’d talked, leaving the darkest portion of the night for his trek. He’d have to hustle on his hike and hope his compatriots were sleeping off the previous evening’s whiskey when he arrived.
Thankfully, he’d been able to shake off thoughts of Jordan long enough to meet with Coop. It surprised him his friend hadn’t inquired about the girl Travis had lingered at the bar hoping to encounter, but it was just as well. He hadn’t been looking forward to telling Coop that Brody’s right-hand-man was Kyle Jensen, the guy Travis had pissed off while rescuing the woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his head.