Page 5 of A SEAL's Fantasy


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Holy crap. Dominic shoved both hands through his short hair, the thick stubble scraping his palms. For one second he envied his teammates who didn’t have families. No nagging, no nosiness, no pain-in-the-butt interference.

“You get caught, you’re going to prison,” he finally said.

“I told you, I didn’t hack anything top secret. Nothing military, even.”

This time went unspoken.

“Then why are you claiming a mission went bad? Brody didn’t tell you that.”

“No, but he wouldn’t call at three in the morning to get Lotta’s number. I figured something was wrong, so I did some poking around.” When Dominic just glared, Lucas shrugged again. “You said something earlier about plenty of people speaking the language. Since the only ones you speak are English and Spanish, I pulled info on a few hot spots in Guatemala that might require specialized intervention.”

Pride and irritation surged in equal measures. It was a good thing Lucas was as honest as the day was long.

“You are a pain in my ass,” Dominic muttered. “That mission is top secret.”

Top secret. And still underway. He clenched his teeth against the stirring of the hair on the back of his neck, warning serious shit was going down. Brody was supposed to be in Guatemala right now, blowing the hell out of a drug lord’s compound, taking down his cartel and ending his reign of terror.

Not making phone calls in the middle of the night.

“When’s he calling back?”

“He didn’t say.”

Of course he didn’t.

“You okay?” Lucas stepped forward, looking concerned. He shot a glance at the big house, then back at Dominic. “Do you want me to do some more searching? See what happened?”

Lucas thought he could poke his digital fingers into a U.S. Navy SEAL operation. One that took place outside of the country, and was classified as a top-secret government mission. Dominic gave a halfhearted laugh, scrubbing his hands over his face. Likely big brother probably could. But that didn’t mean he was going to.

“No. I’ll wait.”

“Want breakfast?” Lucas jerked his head toward the house.

Appetite gone, Dominic shook his head. He’d take the call in private.

“I’ll check in later,” he said, pulling his helmet back on. Even though he was on private property, if he didn’t wear it, his mother would have a tizzy. He didn’t bother with the straps, though. Just kicked his bike to life and roared off. Three minutes later, he shoved open his cabin door, threw his leather coat over the back of a chair and strode into his bedroom.

Yep. There was his cell phone. Right where he said it was. He snagged it off the dresser, checking even though he knew there would be no message, nor a return number. He debated for two seconds.

As far as the Navy was concerned, he might be on leave, but Dominic knew he was now on duty. Whatever was going down would take his skill, his talent and his absolute attention. He’d been up all night, barely slept the one before. It wasn’t a part of his SEAL training that allowed him to sleep at will and awaken instantly, but his years in the Navy had honed that talent. He knew if the phone rang, he’d be immediately alert, even from the deepest sleep.

He didn’t even glance at the neatly made bed as he headed for the kitchen.

He grabbed a box of cereal, a quart of milk and a huge bowl.

It might not be pancakes, but it beat the hell out of field rations.

He was on his second helping when his cell lit up.

It didn’t finish the first ring before he had it to his ear.

“Castillo.”

“Trouble, Auntie,” Petty Officer Brody Lane said in a low growl. His use of Dominic’s call sign instead of his name made it clear this was military business. “You at home?”

“Yeah, took leave. No point sitting around like a pansy on light duty.”

“You up to handling a problem?”

Shit.

“Name it.”

“The Candy Man grabbed Sir.”

Son of a bitch.

Lieutenant Phillip Banks. Call sign Sir.

Dominic’s gut clenched, adrenaline rushing hard. His fist hit the wall before he even realized he’d lifted his hand. He didn’t have to like the guy to be furious. Furious and, yeah, a little scared. Part of training for the mission had been studying detailed information about the Candy Man, as Pedro Alvarez Valdero had been tagged by the team. The man was a cold-blooded sociopath, his morals as low as his ambition was high. He specialized in drugs, torture and various forms of corruption.

If he’d grabbed Banks, that meant the mission had failed. The team wouldn’t leave until they got the lieutenant back. And, of course, completed the mission.

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