Finally Free_Levi_A Black Ops Romance Read online

  “Come again?” I spit out, hoping that I hadn’t heard the lying scheming bitch’s name I had been trying to forget since the summer after I graduated high school.

  “Blake Porter, she is the lead investigative reporter for the Daily Sun.”

  Sure enough, I’d heard correctly.

  “You’ve heard of her?” Clark asked.

  “Something like that,” I answered. With a nod, Clark turned back to the monitors, dropping his line of questioning.

  “Is there an evac plan in place?” Jasper inquired. He and Lenox had rolled a topographical map of Yemen out over the table.

  “Mission specifics are in your briefs. The objective is a clean in-and-out rescue. The President would like to have this contained before news hits the wire. The national security advisor does not want to give this group any media time. We have forty-eight hours before Porter’s next scheduled check-in with the paper. If she misses that call in, the Daily Sun will contact government officials and run a story.”

  “Copy that,” Lenox said.

  “Wheels up in thirty, ladies. Good luck.” The commander walked out of the hangar, giving us time to gear up.

  “Give me five to call Lily,” Lenox said, grabbing his cell.

  “You better call Emily and let her know. I’ll grab your kit,” I told Jasper.

  Things had changed a lot around the 707 in the last year. First Lenox and Lily, and now Jasper and Emily. The women were a welcomed addition to the family. It was good seeing both of my brothers in love, especially Jasper. He’d carried a burden that was not his to bear for a long time. I was happy he had finally made peace with his daughter’s death. As pleased as I was for them, there was a twinge of something in my gut. With two of the four of us married off, or almost married in Jasper’s case, it made a man re-evaluate what he wanted out of life.

  Before Lily and Emily came along, I was content being single. I figured that would be my life until I left the 707. The possibility of a family never crossed my mind. The team had lived for the thrill of the hunt and the adrenaline rush when we were closing in on a target. Now, they had something more important to live for. Family. I’d cut mine out of my life a long time ago, the same day I left Blake. I was better off without them. After my mom married Alister Bench, she became a different person than she was when she was raising my sister and me on a waitress’s salary. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. Once she married Alister, she turned into a trophy wife, and my sister finally got to join the cool crowd clique she’d desperately wanted to be a part of.

  Alister had bought every person I had ever loved, including Blake. That had been the final knife in my back.

  “All straight?” Clark called out from the cage.

  He walked out of the enclosure with four M4 carbines slung over his shoulder and two ammo cans. I hadn’t realized that I still hadn’t moved until he spoke.

  “Five by five,” I answered and went about grabbing the rest of the gear.

  By the time we heard the helo blades outside we were ready to go. We’d be transported by helicopter to DC where we’d catch a flight to Yemen with the Air Force. While commercial flights were more comfortable, the paper trail hauling a weapons cache overseas left an electronic footprint we didn’t want. We didn’t exist. We were a four-man unit the Army classified as research and development. As far as anyone knew, including our fellow soldiers, we procured and tested new weapons. We also oversaw the armories and made sure weapons were checked back in after a battalion deployed. We did test weapons, just not the way the Army thought. Our testing was done on secret covert black ops. We were personal assassins for the President, or in this case, rescuing a hostage our government didn’t want the world to know was captured.

  The flight to Andrews was quiet, each of us going over the SITREP the commander had left. As hard as I tried not to read Blake’s bio and personal file, I couldn’t stop myself. Twelve years ago, I’d walked out of my stepfather’s house and shut the door to my past. I’d promised myself I would never look back, never allow another person to use me again. Even after all these years, I could still feel the sting of the blade as Blake stabbed me in the back. I’d never expected it from her. I’d thought she loved me as much as I’d loved her. Stupidly I had been walking around with a promise ring in my pocket for weeks, waiting for the right time to give it to her. A promise that one day I would ask her to be my wife. She was smart and funny. And damn was she beautiful; the classic girl next door, sugar all the way through.

  I’d taken my time getting to know her. She’d been different from all the other girls I’d been with. She wasn’t one of the cheerleaders that wanted to bag Levi McCoy, the quarterback, for bragging rights. Not that it was worth bragging about anyway. When she’d started to push for me to go further, I’d refused. Blake was sweet and shy and had never been with a boy. I wanted to go slow and show her she was special. I’d spent months getting her ready for sex. I wanted her first time to be perfect, something we’d both never forget. That was the problem, I couldn’t forget. I couldn’t forget the way she looked at me with love and lust swirling in her pretty hazel orbs. I couldn’t forget what it felt like when I entered her the first time, pushing through her virginity. I remembered it all like it happened yesterday. To this day, I also remembered the searing pain of her betrayal.

  Now, here I was, all these years later, flying halfway around the world to save the woman who crushed my soul. The irony wasn’t lost on me. The only sliver of satisfaction I would gain from this rescue mission was that she would have to see everything she’d tossed away. I hoped that my stepfather’s money was worth it.

  The C-17 Globemaster was already on the tarmac waiting for our departure when we landed at Andrews. I had fifteen hours to get my head on straight and prepare to see the only woman I had ever loved.

  Ain’t life a bitch.

  Chapter Two

  Blake

  “Sir, I don’t understand what you want me to do.”

  That was a lie. I knew full well what the man in the suit across the table from me wanted. Not that I’d give him the pleasure of admitting it. I was going to sit here as long as possible and play dumb. The men who’d yanked me out of my tent and taken me had already deleted all of my electronic backups. Mr. White, as he called himself, made a show of deleting every file I had saved in my cloud storage. He even went as far as wiping every fake email address clean of data. It was as though I had never written a single word. I was beyond pissed. Pissed was in the rearview mirror and I’d skated into thermonuclear. All the information I’d gathered on Al-Harazi was gone. With a few keystrokes, Mr. White and his men had rendered me dead in the water. My only hope was some of my work would be saved on the Daily Sun’s servers. If not, I was screwed.

  “I think you understand perfectly well, Ms. Porter. We are politely asking you not to run a story in the name of national security,” the man repeated.

  “Mr. White, you keep saying that. However, what you’re failing to explain is how a humanitarian piece on the village will somehow be a matter of national security. Since when is clean drinking water a threat to the nation?” I asked.

  I had been careful in the information I kept on my computer and what I spoke about over the phone to my editor. There was no way this man could know the real reason I was in Yemen. Everything had been kept off the record. Unless…

  “Are you really going to insult my intelligence? We both know you’re here for information on the Liberty Revolution.”

  Well shit.

  “Who?” I asked, praying that all my years of playing dumb to look as non-threatening as possible would pay off.

  Mr. White tilted his head and stared at me as if I wasn’t innocent at all. I was merely stupid to try and lie to him. I wasn’t stupid. I knew a company man when I saw one. The CIA had sent in a team to neutralize me and scrub my records. The real question here was how did the CIA get involved? My mission objective was off the books. Only one person was supposed to know I w
as here.

  “Tell me, Mr. White, how exactly did you come about my location,” I asked, tiring of the game.

  The funny thing about covert ops is we both had an idea who the other person worked for, but neither of us would confirm it. Instead, we both sat staring at one another in some sort of standoff. I knew it was a matter of time before my backup arrived. It was a waiting game; none of the Mr. Whites or Mr. Blues in the room would kill me, or they would’ve done it already. They didn’t have the kill order; they only wanted my intel. None of it was on any computer they had found. Now, Mr. White was on a fact-finding mission to see how much I knew. I knew a whole hell of a lot, none of which I would tell him.

  “How long are we going to have to do this before you tell me the information I need, and we can both go home?” he asked.

  “Considering you hold the key to walking us both out of here and you don’t seem real eager, I’d say another ten hours at least.”

  “Ten hours? Why ten hours Special Agent?”

  I allowed a wide smile to play across my lips. “Good guess, but no dice. For a spook, you’re not all that smart. I don’t have anything to tell you. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Why ten hours?” he asked again.

  I didn’t answer, and Mr. White spent the next few hours sitting across a makeshift table from me in a grungy room, eating his lunch. If he thought the temptation or food would make me talk, he was sorely mistaken. I had gone far longer than the twentyish hours since they’d taken me without food or water. This was a cakewalk – the lap of luxury as far as captivity was concerned. My job had taken me all over the world, some of the vilest places the earth had to offer. If Mr. CIA man thought he was going to break me with a staring contest, he was wrong.

  The door to the interrogation room flew open. Two men dressed in black, their faces fully concealed, came into view; their M4s up and at the ready before Mr. White could draw his sidearm.

  “Three more in the main building,” I advised.

  “Affirmative. They’re down,” one of the men said.

  “Shit. They’re CIA.” I lowered my head and sighed. “Mr. White, I tried to tell you we should’ve parted ways.”

  “Figured that much when they had no weapons and creds out the moment we breached. Someone wanna fill us in on why my team is here to rescue a reporter from the agency?” the man asked looking at Mr. White.

  “I’d like to know the same thing, but Mr. White has been less than forthcoming. Maybe you’ll have better luck. I have a deadline to make, and this little stunt has put me behind. My editor won’t be happy.”

  I stood, thinking now was the perfect time to get gone. Let the men fight it out amongst themselves.

  “You, sit,” the second man ordered. Chills raced up my spine, and all the fine hairs on my arms stood on end despite the heat in the room.

  I narrowed my eyes at the man; there was something about his voice that was familiar. “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You heard me, sit down,” the man commanded. “And Mr. White, Brown, Jones whatever fucking name you’re using this time, I suggest you start talking. I have a feeling we're being led around by our dicks, and I’m not real fond of the spy shit. I like things clear and precise. I want to look a man in the face when I kill him, not play games and stab him in the back like a coward.”

  With every word the man spoke my heart rate spiked. Not once while I was being detained was I afraid; now that I recognized the voice I was petrified.

  Levi McCoy.

  The only man I had ever loved. The man whose stepfather I would one day ruin. I wasn’t ready to see him. Not now, and not this way. I was so close to finishing my mission.

  “Sorry to drag you all the way here under false pretense, but there was no other way. I knew the Director of National Intelligence would only send in your team to recover his golden child. There was no other way,” Mr. White said.

  “No other way for what? Did the commander know?” Levi’s friend asked.

  “Let’s all sit down, and I’ll fill you in. One of you will have to convince the reporter to hand over her latest intel to confirm my lead. She has proven to be stubborn,” Mr. White said, sounding exasperated I wouldn’t roll over like he wanted.

  Tough tits. No one was getting any intel I had. I was the lowly reporter here. At least that was my story, and I was sticking to it.

  “Did you try bending her over your knee and spanking her?” Levi asked. “I heard it was quite effective on Ms. Porter.”

  Bastard.

  I tried to remain emotionless, not allowing a single muscle on my face to move. “That hasn’t worked for a very long while, Levi. Please, take the mask off and stay awhile. We have a lot to catch up on. Seems you’ve made the jump from cavalry scout to black ops.”

  The man standing next to Levi didn’t flinch when I said Levi’s name or announced there was familiarity. He was trained well; he gave nothing away. Levi wasn’t as disciplined; he was uncomfortable. I would need him off balance if I had any chance of leaving here with my sanity.

  “Clark,” Mr. White started. “I didn’t know. I had no idea Ms. Tight-lips and Levi had a past. I only need to pass along intel. I need you personally to give it to the director.”

  “Do I look like a goddamn carrier pigeon? Fly back and give it to him yourself,” the man, who I assumed was Clark, argued.

  “This has been fun. But I think you men should work this out. I really need to make my deadline. I don’t have anything for you. May I please go?” I asked in the sweetest voice I could muster.

  While it was interesting to watch the men argue, I had shit to do and deadlines to meet. I was hours behind schedule and would have to pay double to get across the border now that the locals had seen me be taken hostage.

  “Fuck,” Levi growled and pulled off the black balaclava that had been covering his handsome face.

  I’ll be damned.

  Levi McCoy had aged well. He hadn’t actually aged; he’d just gotten better looking. The beautiful teenage star football player had turned into a sexy mercenary. It was time for me to leave. His voice sent chills racing through my body, and seeing his face was making me burn all over.

  God, I had missed him all these years.

  “Someone better start talking,” Clark demanded.

  I was no longer paying attention to the questions being asked. I couldn’t take my eyes off Levi. The last time I had actually seen him, he was dropping me off at my house with a long kiss at my door. That was after he had spent hours kissing other parts of my body. I could still remember what it felt like to be loved by Levi.

  It had been everything.

  Chapter Three

  Levi

  She looked the same, but different. Her teenage body had filled out, her breasts looked larger, her hips had a gentle flare, and her once light brown hair was now lighter. Maybe chemically highlighted, but by the look of it, I would guess sun bleached from months in the desert. She was still stunning, and still a lying bitch. I would do well to remember that the first time around she had no issue with knifing me in the back.

  “Porter was embedded sixty days ago, her cover was as a reporter trying to get an exclusive interview with Al-Harazi,” Mr. White explained.

  “Her cover?” I asked. I read her file. Blake started at the Daily Sun after she graduated college and had been there the last eight years.

  “Blake Porter works directly for the Director of National Intelligence.” Mr. White turned to look at Blake. “She is a deep cover agent.” Blake sat quietly, her face completely blank, not confirming or denying what Mr. White said. “Without her knowledge, the director sent my team in as her back up. The region is too hot not to have someone on standby for a quick EXFIL if she needed.” Still nothing from Blake. Completely stone-faced. She had perfected her con. She was a good liar when she’d screwed me over; I hadn’t seen it coming. But this was exceptional. “There was word that Al-Harazi was planning his exit. At the last minute, he added another p
assenger and a woman’s cover. He was planning on taking Porter with him to Oman.”

  “So, you took her before Al-Harazi could,” I concluded.

  “Do you have anything to add, Ms. Porter?” Clark asked.

  “Please, call me Blake. Nothing at all,” she replied.

  Her thumbnail was slowly scraping the tip of her pointer finger. That was her tell. When she was nervous about something, she always rubbed her fingers together. Other than that, her body language was soft, unassuming, and relaxed.

  I turned back to Mr. White, “What else? There had to be more than a planned kidnapping to call in a rescue mission. The CIA already had Blake safely away from Al-Harazi; you could’ve packed it up and gone home.”

  “Six months ago, Al-Harazi blew up one of his churches and blamed a jihadist group who was more than happy to take the credit for killing a bunch of Christians,” Mr. White continued. “He wanted an excuse to turn his followers into extremists. What better way than improvise an attack on your own people. He’s planning on blowing up nineteen embassies, including the U.S.’s in Muscat, Oman. I believe he was bringing Blake along to draw American soldiers into a trap.”

  That got Blake’s attention. Her lip twitched ever so slightly, and her cheeks were turning rosy. The dreaded blush. A person could learn to control just about any response, but there are some that were harder than others. Learning to slow your body’s response so you don’t flush is a hard skill to master. She almost had it, but it was too late.

  “Why not call it in?” I asked.

  “I did. I had no hard evidence. I needed the recordings Blake had to confirm before the call would be made to bring your team in,” he explained.

  “You have her, why didn’t you just take it from her?” I asked.

  “I tried. She’s smart; she doesn’t have it on her person, and it was not on any of the secured networks.”

  The side of Blake’s mouth tipped up for a split second before she covered it up. Poor Mr. White was just now learning what I had known the past twelve years; she was a sneaky bitch.