Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,88

she loved. She covered her mouth and said, “Down the hall to the left. Hurry.”

“This is all your fault, there, live wire, cock tease. My balls are blue thanks to you.”

She giggled again and shoved him, and he started to walk backward. “You going to take care of that later, wildcat?”

“Um…maybe,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. “Get going.”

She went back to the conference room and briefly gathered her composure before she went back in. It didn’t matter, every man in there knew what they had been doing. Tough. She was the boss, and they would just have to look the other way.

16

Inside the room, she picked up the clicker and resumed her brief like nothing happened—boldly and without apology. Minutes later Hemingway walked back in and sat down. She turned around.

“You okay, there, junior?” Fast Lane asked.

“Yes, sir. Ship shape.”

Max laughed softly beneath his breath, coughing to cover it.

“What did I say about calling him sir?” 2-Stroke asked.

“Could we just continue? There’s nothing to see here,” Hemingway said in that steely voice that came out of nowhere and looked as good on him as that uniform.

Fast Lane laughed, more carefree than she’d ever heard the tough-as-nails commander. The rest of the team joined in. Hemingway was good for them just as he was good for her. She wasn’t sure what she was doing here. Her fractured and fragmented life maybe needed a change.

The doors opened with a dramatic flourish as the man she loathed the most on this planet entered. “Is this a party or a mission?” he said caustically.

She tried not to stiffen, tried with all her might to keep her face neutral. “We were just getting to a map of the Marines’ progression.”

His cold blue eyes flicked to the clicker in her hand and to the map on the screen. He folded his arms over his chest and regarded her icily. “Well, get on with it.”

“Who’s the killjoy with the stick up his ass?” Pitbull whispered to Saint.

Shea cleared her throat, working every second on her composure. “Guys, this is Supervisory Special Agent Patrick Bates.” She introduced each one of the SEALs to him, and all he did was continue to stare at her as if they were just insignificant muscle and not the tactical and lethal geniuses they were. He’d never seen a SEAL team in action. He’d never seen the grit and courage inherent in the men who had made it through BUD/S. He was an egotistical idiot who had no idea how close he was to his fall.

It made her blood boil, but this wasn’t the time to confront him. She wanted to put her gun against his head and pull the trigger. She’d thought about it so many times, her fingers twitched involuntarily, and her hands got damp.

“Continue,” he snapped.

“They landed at Silvio Pettirossi International Airport in Asunción two weeks ago and rented a car. Their only stops were for camping supplies and staples, mostly MREs. According to the GPS on the rental, they drove approximately one hundred and thirty-seven miles to just outside San Pedro and crossed the river, not to Capiatá, south of Asunción, where the treasures are rumored to be buried but to here.” She turned to the map and drew a red line. “Their car was found at the edge of this dense sub-tropical jungle.” She made a small red x then turned back to the group, approaching the table, ignoring Bates’s sour look. “There have also been rumors that there’s treasure in the river, lost when Spanish galleons headed for the Atlantic Ocean with loads of precious metals from Bolivian mines. That could be what they are searching for.”

“Do you have a plan?” Bates gritted out.

“Yes, we do. We cannot get a helicopter into the dense jungle. We’ll be quick rope inserted here just beyond where the car was found.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning at zero six hundred,” Fast Lane said, standing. “If you’ll excuse us, we have been deployed for seventy-two hours and my men need chow, showers and rack time.”

“As long as you’re ready by six am,” Bates said, his eyes glittered like the weasel he was.

“I can assure you, Agent Bates. We’ll be ready.” Fast Lane pushed back his chair and said, “Move out.”

The SEALs began to leave, Shea watching Hemingway. He gave her a heavy look that caused body shivers as she mouthed her room number. He winked and filed out with the others.

She started for the door, and Bates cut her off. His eyes narrowed.