Page 108 of Deep Tide

Sean’s hands shook. Gripping the wheel, he realized his palms were slick. And his head was throbbing. He buzzed the window down and sucked in air as wind whipped around him. He glanced at the clock. It was 1:03.

Less than half an hour ago Moore had nearly called it.

And now, just twenty-five minutes later, everything had changed. They’d done it. All those days and nights of painstaking work had panned out, and they’d pulled off one of the most daring ops in the history of their unit.

Emotions tornadoed inside him. He felt shocked. Euphoric. Dizzy with disbelief. If the technical side worked, tonight’s operation would be paying dividends for months and maybe even years to come. And Sean realized that he’d never completely believed they’d actually pull it off until now.

He glanced out the window at the vast darkness of Laguna Madre. An arc of lights in the distance marked the causeway connecting Lost Beach to the mainland.

The mainland, where soon he’d be catching a flight to return to his normal routine and his normal job and everything he’d been doing before Operation Virgil took over his life.

Everything he’d been doing before he met Leyla.

Regret needled him as he sped down the highway. The last few months had crawled by at a mind-numbingly slow pace, but now everything was happening at warp speed.

His phone vibrated again, and this time he pulled it out. It was Moore with his typical brevity.

Report.

Sean set the phone on his knee and tapped out a text.

Mission complete. I’m out.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Leyla lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. She’d been tossing and turning in bed for hours, gripped by fear as she pictured Sean creeping down some alley with a tactical team, about to kick down a door and arrest some group of thugs who would no doubt be armed to the teeth. Her chest squeezed as she imagined it.

It’s tonight, isn’t it?

He hadn’t said anything, but his eyes had revealed exactly what she needed to know.

Leyla could read him. He couldn’t lie to her—at least not successfully—and she knew that whatever top-secret, all-important law enforcement matter had brought him down here was culminating tonight, possibly right this very moment.

She turned onto her side and stared at the window, where the faint combination of moonlight and streetlights seeped through the slats of her mini-blinds.

He’d be leaving soon; of that she was certain. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. Part of her felt frustrated. And disappointed. And bitter that the first man she’d taken more than a passing interest in, the first man she’d actually enjoyed being with, in longer than she could remember, lived so impossibly far away.

The smarter, saner, more practical part of her felt grateful that he was leaving soon. Thank God he was leaving before they really got involved.

In the short time she’d known him, Sean had taken over her thoughts, her daydreams, her energy—and they hadn’t even slept together.

And thank God she’d been busy last night, or she probably would have slept with him. No—she definitely would have. Despite her many reservations, she would have given him exactly what he’d wanted from her since that first night when he approached her on the beach and offered to buy her a drink. Guys were so transparent, Sean especially. He had a certain way of looking at her that made her know he was thinking about sex.

Leyla rolled to her other side and checked the glowing red digits. It was 2:16. She groaned. She had to be up in less than two hours. She was bone-tired, and still she couldn’t manage to go to sleep.

Just past midnight, after surfing channels for hours and checking her phone for the hundredth time, she’d actually driven to Sean’s condo and circled the parking lot, searching for his rental car. And if that weren’t pathetic enough, then she’d parked at the beach and walked all the way past his building, looking for a light in his window. But her search had been futile, and she’d come home feeling even more anxious than before she’d gone.

Sean, where are you?

She absolutely hated this. She was a hot mess of worry and frustration. How did Miranda handle the stress every time Joel went out on some covert assignment? Leyla had never really thought about it before now, but it was agonizing. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Sean in a Kevlar vest, slinking down some dark alley. But those vests didn’t cover everything. Head shots, for instance. Kevlar didn’t cover those. Leyla squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe.

She couldn’t do this.

Leyla threw the covers off and swung her legs out of bed. She snagged her running shorts off the floor and pulled them on. Then she grabbed a sweatshirt from the chair and shoved her feet into sandals. Not giving herself even a moment for second thoughts, she strode through her dark apartment and snatched her keys off the counter.

The air outside was thick with humidity. She locked her door, ignoring the bugs swarming around her porch light as well as the loud, urgent voice in her head telling her this was a bad idea. But there was an even louder, more urgent voice telling her to go. She couldn’t spend even one more minute lying in bed not knowing if he was okay or...

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