Out of Time Read online

  But if that was true, coming out would be the safest thing for them.

  Scott watched Colt’s face. His expression didn’t give anything away, but Scott could guess what he was thinking. “You think there’s more to it?”

  Colt met his gaze for the first time since learning that he was Kate’s brother. “I think it’s worth not jumping to any conclusions too quickly. Not until we know all the facts.”

  Ironic advice coming from Colt, given his conclusions about Kate and Scott.

  “Which could be easier to find out with help from the inside,” Scott pointed out. He was close to his direct superior in the chain of command, the commander of SEAL Team Nine, Mark Ryan. Scott wasn’t looking forward to explaining why they hadn’t come to him right away.

  Colt guessed the direction of his thoughts. He didn’t have much regard for the brass in general. “Ryan might be your friend, but he’s an officer first, and he’ll do his duty even if he doesn’t like it.”

  The same thing could be said about Scott. Once. But look at him now: scruffy, AWOL, and definitely not by the book, unless it was called How to Look Like a Lowlife. He didn’t even recognize himself.

  “What are you getting at, Colt?” Kate asked.

  “The government is going to be looking for someone to blame, and right now that’s Taylor. They’ll want to know exactly what and how much he told her.”

  Scott felt his spine go ramrod stiff and his shoulders turn just as rigid. Blood surged through his veins at a boil. “It sounds as if you are accusing me of something, Wesson.” Colt didn’t shy away from Scott’s fury. Scott looked around the table at the other blank faces staring at him. “Is that what you all think?” He swore. “I didn’t tell her a damned thing!”

  The sound of his voice reverberated in the oval room, shaking the floor-to-ceiling windows, which were there to take advantage of the river view.

  Suddenly memories came back to him. Images. Snippets of conversation and clumsy questions when they were lying naked and twisted in the sheets after she’d just brought him to his knees for the God-knew-how-many-eth time.

  When he was at his weakest.

  “I heard there is trouble brewing in Syria again. . . .”

  When all of his defenses had been shattered.

  “You’ll tell me when you have to leave . . . and when you’ll be back?”

  When she’d fucked every ounce of sense from his head—both of them. The one he was supposed to think with, and the one that had been at her mercy from the first moment he’d seen her at that Capitol Hill bar.

  Unlike most Teamguys, bars weren’t stomping grounds for him. He didn’t do drunken hookups or one-night stands.

  But he’d made an exception that night. An accidental bump—at least he’d thought it was accidental—that led to a drink, a flirty conversation that had gotten closer and closer until somehow their lips were touching, and a scorching kiss that had lit his blood on fire. They’d barely made it out of the cab and into his hotel room before her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was sinking into her for the first time. The first of many times that night.

  His face heated with some of that pounding blood. How could he have been so stupid? How could he not have seen it?

  He’d been too damned bewitched by tilted green cat eyes, long fluttery lashes, pouty red lips, high, sharp cheekbones, long, tousled blond hair, and a body that could have sold sexy lingerie to a Mennonite.

  But it hadn’t just been her beauty that had attracted him. She was smart and knew it. She’d walked into the bar with the cool confidence of a woman who knew she could handle anyone in the room—man or woman—and that had been freaking irresistible.

  Which, of course, was the point. She’d been chosen to deceive and entrance. And like a damned glutton he’d taken a dive right into the honey.

  Over and over. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He’d been utterly captivated, out of his mind with lust, and, for the first time in his life, head over heels in love.

  As much as he hated to admit any of that, it was the damned truth. And he’d own it, even if it made him the world’s biggest sucker.

  But he wasn’t a complete fool. He’d never forgotten his job or what that meant. He hadn’t told her a damned thing about what he did or where he went. He’d never told her anything that could be considered confidential or secret. His job was everything to him; he’d be damned if he’d let her take that from him, too.

  Whatever information she’d passed on, it hadn’t come from him, and he dared anyone at the table to suggest otherwise.

  Colt didn’t seem inclined to argue—a rarity for him. Instead he shrugged. “They won’t believe you even if it is true, and you’ll spend the next few weeks in some small room trying to convince them otherwise.”

  Scott cursed; Colt was right. Scott would be the scapegoat, and proving that he hadn’t told her anything would take some time. Assuming he could persuade them, that is.

  “Wesson is right,” the senior chief agreed. “The way it looks now, they’ll hang you from the nearest rafter first and worry about right or wrong later.”

  “Maybe,” Scott admitted. “But I’m not going to let you and the rest of the team face AWOL or desertion charges just to save my own skin.”

  “I never try to second-guess better minds than mine,” Donovan said sarcastically, referring to command, “but I’d wager that charges against the rest of us will be the last thing on their mind. There’s going to be all kinds of spin going on, but trying to punish us for not coming out right away, given everything that happened?” He shook his head. “No way.”

  “Dynomite is right,” Baylor said. “They won’t be looking at us when they have a nice fat target to aim at.” Aka Scott. “We’re safe. But if you want to avoid time in that small room, you’re better off getting your facts lined up first. Besides,” the grim-faced Texan reminded him, “we’re a team. We do this together, and you aren’t going to be much help to us if you are locked up somewhere or spending all your time defending yourself.”

  “What difference is a few days going to make?” Colt pointed out.

  But Scott still wasn’t convinced. They might be right, but he had a duty as an officer not only to come forward but also to protect his men.

  It was Kate who came up with the solution.

  “How about a compromise?” she said. “My godfather is already involved. We could go to him and get his take. You’ll have technically reported in to someone in the chain of command”—Kate’s godfather, General Thomas Murray, was the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and was one of the handful of people who’d been in the loop about their mission—“but we minimize who knows for a little longer.”

  It was a great suggestion. Two birds with one stone. Scott looked around the table, and the three men nodded their approval.

  Kate made the call.

  She returned a short time later. “He was shocked, but when I explained everything, he agreed with Colt.” She said it in a way that suggested that didn’t happen often. “He thinks you should lay low a little longer. Your survival is miraculous but inconvenient as it makes a delicate political situation with Russia even more precarious. The US is already on the brink of war, and if this comes out it will only get worse. You aren’t going to be popular with those in the administration who don’t want war. Some in the White House will wish that you’d just stayed buried, and the secret of your mission along with you.”

  They all knew that, but somehow hearing it from someone in the general’s position made it much more sobering. Nothing like having your life be an inconvenience.

  “He offered to help in any way he can,” Kate added apologetically, understanding the downer cast by her relayed message. “I told him I would keep him in the loop.”

  Scott nodded. He might take the general up on it. He was determined to do whateve