Chapter One
SEPTEMBER 9 Sunday, 8:20 P.M. Destin, Florida
Sam Houston strolled toward the hotel outdoor pool
carrying a soft drink and tugging at his tie, leaving
behind the laughter of the banquet room. His buddy Tom
Yates was married, and the reception was breaking up now
that the bride and groom were safely away on their
honeymoon. A huge weight had just lifted from Sam's
shoulders.
The breeze from the Gulf brought the smell of sand and
sea. Sam paused at the steps going down to the boardwalk.
Florida was good to its visitors. Miles of beach and
luxury hotels stretched to either side. He smiled as he
contemplated his upcoming days off. Maybe do some deep-sea
diving and treasure hunting-something challenging and
adventurous. It wouldn't compete with his last deployment
and getting shot at for an adrenaline rush, but it would
do.
The past few months peacekeeping in Turkey had put him
near a shooting war and turned him a little too serious
for his own good. His temporary homeport with SEAL Team
Nine was Little Creek Naval Base, Norfolk, Virginia. And
while diving in the Atlantic could be fascinating, it
couldn't compare to the vast treasures around the Gulf. A
little diving, a little getting his priorities back in
sync- He planned to enjoy life, not just live it.
"Now youlook like a man at the end of a good day."
He glanced to his right and felt a spark of interest. A
lady sitting alone by the pool was watching him. He didn't
think she'd been a guest at the wedding-he had tried to
meet everyone-but Tom and Jill had more friends than he
could hope to keep straight. The thick closed book in her
lap, the plate set aside on the nearby table, suggested
she had been comfortable there for some time. He walked
her direction. "Good food, good friends: the definition of
a very good evening."
She tipped her head back as he approached. He liked her
smile. Her glasses were interesting: oval-shaped with gold
frames and a little star in the corner. She slid them off
and set them on the table, and he could see through the
glass without distortion to read the print on the magazine
cover. She must use them and that little star to detract
attention from her eyes-no one would forget those baby
blues if he got a good look at them.
"You're with the wedding party? I heard the music."
"Best man."
"That explains the tux and the too tight tie."
He tugged it the rest of the way free with a rueful
smile. "Hazards of the day." Making a decision, he dumped
his jacket on an empty chair and took a seat on the lounge
chair near her, turning up the cuffs of his white shirt.
Despite being a chief petty officer, he could've used an
instruction book for how to give advice to the groom, keep
rambunctious buddies in line, troubleshoot problems, and
keep track of more guests under the age of ten than he
could remember names for. It felt good to be done and able
to consider time his own again. Blue lights shimmered up
through the water, inviting a late-night swim. "It's a
little dark for reading."
She clicked on a penlight. "Five hundred and ninety-six
pages-I'm going to finish it tonight and find out whodunit
if it kills me."
He laughed softly. "A committed reader." He liked the
sound of her voice and the relaxed humor in her answer.
"I'm recently retired and trying to make up for all the
books I missed."
The ice in her drink had melted. His drink was getting
low. "Like a refill?" He caught the attention of a hotel
employee. He requested a second Coke for himself and she
asked for a pineapple ice slush.
It was odd that she thought of herself as retired. He put
her age at maybe thirty-five, forty. A glance showed a
ring on her right hand, but her left was bare. The watch
looked expensive, as did the dress. This wasn't a cheap
place to vacation.
"I'd ask, but that looked like a private thought."
"It was." He was single, no kids, with life insurance from
the military to bury him. He had a lifelong habit of
giving extra money away. Buying stuff just meant it had to
be packed and shipped to the next base. But he admired the
effort it suggested to be able to retire young. She'd had
a plan for catching up on her reading. What other plans
had she made for herself now that she set her own
schedule?
Their drinks arrived. He signed the slip, putting them on
his room tab.
She sipped hers. "Thanks. I love these fruit things."
"My pleasure. The only place where you can get a better
one is in Hawaii."
"Really? Have you been there often?"
He nodded. "With work. They're beautiful islands."
"I'll have to go someday. I want to see the fish along the
coral reefs, the lush greenery that goes forever. I hear
it's good honeymoon country." She lifted an eyebrow.
"They went to the Caribbean on a cruise. Tom and I are
Navy buddies. He married a sweetheart in Jill."
She tilted her head. "Did you send them off with a walk
under raised swords?"
She had some knowledge of military life; he tucked that
observation away to come back to later, even as he
smiled. "Our team of SEALs did the honors." The last man
had slapped Jill's behind with the flat of his sword in
the best tradition of Navy weddings.
"She'll have great wedding pictures."
"I hope so. The photographer certainly took enough of
them."
She laughed and the sound was rich, warm, and bubbled.
When she spoke he heard a trace of the West and home. He
wished he had met her years before. "I'm Sam by the way.
Chief Petty Officer Sam Houston." He offered his hand,
belatedly realizing the oversight.
"Darcy St. James."
He was careful as he took her hand. His bore rough rope
burns from the work he did and had the strength to crush
the bones in hers. He found her hand had an unexpected
strength. "Pretty name."
She smiled and let the compliment pass, not breaking eye
contact but merely not reacting beyond that slight smile.
That simple fact had him slow to release her hand. Those
eyes were the unfathomable kind, as clear and deep a pool
of blue as the ocean when it both welcomed and yet hid its
treasures. He had never been one to miss a treasure
hunt. "Listen, would you like to get a piece of wedding
cake? There's plenty left."
"Actually I've been waiting for someone, but he's running
late."
That was either a gentle not interested or a simple
statement of fact. He held her gaze and what he saw
convinced him it was worth taking the optimistic view.
Besides, he admired the loyalty and patience she showed in
waiting for her date. Too many people in life were
impatient, and he'd long ago learned that the best things
in life often involved an indefinite wait. "Have a number
you could try?"
"I wish I did."
"Then while you wait, let me bring the cake to you." He
got to his feet. "White or chocolate? A lot of icing or a
little?"
Her hesitation was so slight as to be barely
noticeable. "White with lots of icing."
"I guessed that."
She grinned and he got the feeling he'd just made an
unexpected friend. Sam walked back toward the ballroom to
get the cake, intrigued with her and that tantalizing hint
of the West in her voice. If her date didn't show up, he'd
enjoy an hour of conversation with her. And if she was
interested in learning to dive ... her company would be
welcome. He could hang with the guys anytime; Darcy would
be much more interesting.
Darcy watched Sam walk away, leaning forward in her chair
to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared around
the decorative planters, his purposeful stride and posture
signaling soldier even in his tux. She wished she wasn't
working at the moment. She'd enjoy walking into the
reception with him for a piece of that wedding cake and a
chance to meet his friends. If there were a few SEALs
still walking around in their dress uniforms carrying
their swords ... She shook her head and forced herself to
lean back and not follow the thought.
Sergey was late. She could continue to sit here alone and
read with her light, but she would be noticed and
remembered by passing guests. Sam was her solution. A
couple didn't attract a second glance. And if one of them
was remembered, it would more likely be him.
Sergey hadn't lost his tradecraft skills. A wedding was
beautiful cover. She'd bought her dress in New York the
day before and it fit her profile of a guest at this
hotel: expensive, elegant blue, cut in classic lines.
Sergey would appreciate it.
She shifted the leather portfolio in her lap and reopened
her book. It wasn't like Sergey to be late, but she could
give him another fifteen minutes. She had contingency
plans and a bolthole arranged. The contrast of a wedding
and the possible danger she was in just sitting here was
stark. She didn't want someone making an attempt to
collect that bounty while she was focused on her meeting
with Sergey. She made herself relax. She'd said yes to
this mission, and she was committed to seeing it through.
Was Sam short for Samuel? Maybe she would get a chance to
find out. She always appreciated a man who could focus.
And he'd focused on her, a pretty nice fact all the way
around. The man had wasted no time making a casual scan of
her left hand looking for a ring. He wore a unique one
with the SEAL emblem at the center and a cross etched into
the side. The cross was an unexpected surprise-it was nice
to have an early clue as to what he valued.
She'd surprised him. When she interrupted his reverie,
there had been just a beat of a pause as he decided how to
react before he moved to join her. He hadn't been sure if
he knew her but curiosity had him coming over. There were
calluses on his hand when he took hers, and she'd picked
up the faint smell of peppermint.
He made an impression all right. She had a feeling she
would be dreaming about the man and that smile tonight.
And those eyes ... He had a fascinating face. Not a pretty
or overly handsome one, but compelling with blue eyes that
reflected his laughter and a smile that was quick to
appear.
Mid-thirties, six-foot even, fit and tough, he looked well
able to take care of himself. Given the amount of trouble
in the world SEALs got sent to quiet down, she doubted Sam
spent much time in the States. They were Special
Operations Forces trained to work covertly from Sea, Air,
and Land, and only a few thousand were on active duty. She
met SEALs overseas during extractions of spies and
occasionally at embassy dinners where just their presence
created a layer of security.
Next time choose the couple from New York, she told
herself, turning pages in the book. They had been seated
to her left until a few minutes before Sam appeared, and
she could have easily started a conversation with them
about the current Broadway plays. Instead she chose Sam
and wiped out her concentration.
There weren't many strangers to bump into out in Shelton,
North Dakota; a fact that was great for her security but
detrimental to her social life. Maybe this meeting with
Sergey would fall through, maybe Sam would be around for a
few hours ... And if she didn't stop thinking about him,
she was going to end up where most distracted agents did
when they were working-in trouble.
Sam walked into the ballroom. Guests had regrouped around
a few tables in the center of the room. Someone in the
center of that mass of people was about to do something
stupid; Sam could hear through the shouts of laughter
someone calling off a count. If he didn't know for a fact
Wolf was away on his honeymoon, Sam would have predicted
his partner would be the SEAL on the spot. He considered
wandering over to see, but there were priorities in life
and then there were priorities. A lady with brilliant blue
eyes didn't smile at him that often.
Special Operations was a small community. He'd trained or
worked with most of the men here. Years of sweat equity
had earned him a place in this group where respect was
earned, not given, and it felt good. The guys had brought
their wives and girlfriends. He'd make another effort to
talk Darcy into joining him. He'd seen the way her eyes
lit up at that idea of walking below raised swords. He
wasn't opposed to using the trappings of his career to tip
the balance in his favor.
A piece of white cake with lots of icing. Sam studied the
table and chose the one with the biggest rose. He picked
up a chocolate piece for himself. The evening felt a lot
like icing atop an already great day.
"Chief."
Sam turned at the call from his boss. His instinct was to
snap to attention but he overrode it. Lieutenant
Joe "Bear" Baker was still in dress uniform from the
wedding. "Yes, sir. Is Kelly settled for the night?"
Bear's wife was five months pregnant, and since she had
asked him to be the child's godfather, Sam tried to stay
current on the details.
"Asleep, although she wouldn't admit she was tired." Bear
nodded to the two pieces of cake. "Found some company?"
Sam heard the curiosity of a friend as well as the care of
an attentive CO and smiled. "Yes."
"Then I won't keep you. I want to pass on an invitation
from Kelly. If you don't end up with plans for lunch
tomorrow, feel free to join us."
"Thank you, sir." It was a night for optimism. "I'm hoping
for the plans."
Bear laughed. "Then I wish you luck."
Sam walked back to the pool area, still smiling. Bear was
the right kind of boss; it was a twenty-four/seven
commitment. The man was responsible for the lives of
sixteen men. Keeping an eye out for complications on the
home front went with the job. Distractions got people
killed. He had smoothed out more relationships with a well-
placed word than Sam could count. Even if the advice
occasionally came with a bit of a growl for which he was
famous-Joe was a grizzly bear early in the morning.
A small pebble bounced down the steps as a couple came up
from the beach arm in arm. Darcy looked up from her book
and made more than a casual inspection of everyone in
sight. She was still expecting her company to arrive.
Whatever had held the man up, Sam hoped he appreciated the
fact that Darcy was waiting for him.
He walked over to join her. "Here you go." He offered her
the slice of white cake.
She turned in her seat toward him and waited until he sat
down and had sampled his cake before tasting hers. She
waved her fork. "Delicious as I knew it would be." She ate
another bite, edging her way around the rose to leave it
for last. "You said you are a Navy SEAL?"
"For over a decade now." He waited for the follow-up on
what it was like to be a soldier.
Instead she studied him over her fork. "What do they call
you?"
It wasn't a question he had expected. Sam grinned. "My
friends call me a lot of things. Cougar normally. Chief
when they're razzing me about my recent promotion."
"There's a story behind that name Cougar."
He inclined his head. A complicated, slightly
unbelievable, but true story.