Page 10 of Hidden Attraction

“Thank you.” She gave him a calm smile at the same time her gaze flicked to the door as if armed gunmen would come streaming through them any moment.

He took point, with Denver bringing up the rear. Chase swung his head left and right, seeking out shadowed corners and any person who looked out of place in the landscape. After years of training, he could pick out a threat in a single glance.

As they cleared the door, he slowed his steps. Not only was the carnothere yet, something about the air felt off.

Turning his head, he met Denver’s steady stare. They traded a look.

Shit—he wasn’t imagining it. Denver’s radar was going off too.

Slowly, his teammate’s hand slid toward the sidearm strapped to his torso.

Chase scanned the street. Two taxis passed the front of the hotel. A delivery truck was double-parked.

Five minutes had passed since the valet went to fetch the car, not the two he told him it would take. But it was probably nothing. In the civilian world, people had a different sense of time than his team.

Only…his instincts were still pinging.

He took one step forward, fists tightening out of reflex.

A black van with tinted windows whipped around the corner and gunned it toward the hotel—too fast for downtown traffic. It screeched to a halt, and the back door slid open before the driver even fully braked.

Four men wearing all black. Masked. Armed.

“Down!” Chase barked even as he shoved Alyssa behind him.

She stumbled but didn’t scream, crouching low, colliding with Kennedy as he steered them behind a support column and took aim at the men coming for her.

“Get the SEALs!” yelled one attacker.

What the hell? They knew that SEALs were the ambassador’s security detail?

“I’ll get the women!” A man rushed them.

Fuck—they weren’t just after the ambassador. They were afterallof them.

Denver threw himself in front of the women as a human shield. “Go, go! I got the women!”

Chase was already in motion, sprinting into the fight, his weapon an extension of him.

He locked in. One step. One target.

He tackled the first guy mid-sprint, and he hit the pavement with a grunt. Chase delivered a brutal elbow to his jaw, disarmed the bastard and spun around to the next.

A low shot rang out from behind. “Two is down!” Denver shouted to Chase.

Chase surged forward and hit the next man blocking his path with full force. His fist made contact, and bone crunched. The man’s head whipped back and he crumpled to the ground.

The third man turned to run, but Chase hurled himself at him. His boot collided with ribs, and he felt the them give way, shattering under the impact. The guy rolled onto his back, chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

In one smooth glide, Chase leaped to his feet and took two menacing strides toward the van.

“Abort!” someone screamed from inside, and the driver took off in a screech of tires. Horns blared as he dodged into traffic. The stench of burned rubber fogged the air, along with the acrid tang of spent gunpowder from Denver’s shot.

Chase’s veins buzzed with adrenaline. He scanned the street one more time before turning for the women. Denver had them corralled behind the big column.

“Put in the call,” Denver ground out to him.

Chase already had his phone in hand and Con on the line. After a brief word to his CO about the incident, he pulled out some zip-ties and bound the downed men hand and foot.

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