Page 18 of Hidden Attraction

“Wach auf, schlafende Schönheit.”

The words were soft but unmistakably German, spoken in the now-familiar voice of Special Operative Julian Chase.

She rolled to her side, shoving her hair out of her face, mumbling a reply in German.I’m awake, but I haven’t seen coffee. That’s a problem.

“Of course that’s one of your seven languages. I’m not surprised.”

Her gaze landed on him standing by the window, the bright Middle Eastern sun transforming his dark beard to sparkling diamonds.

She sat up and stretched, eyeing him with suspicion. “Where did you study?”

He faced her fully, his stare traveling over her rumpled appearance. The clothes she’d worn on the flight and also slept in, her hair that must look like a rat made a nest out of it.

“Nowhere. My father was stationed at Ramstein Air Force Base. I was a base brat. Picked up German running around with other military kids and getting in trouble. Learned more than I ever would have in a classroom.”

Alyssa studied him, examining the layers beneath his hardened exterior and sharp jawline. “So you’re not just a pretty face.”

He arched a brow. “I could say the same thing about you.”

She slipped her fingers through her messy hair. “Coffee?”

“We have to go out for supplies. Get dressed.”

“Give me ten minutes.” She waited for him to leave the single bedroom in the safehouse. When they arrived earlier in the day, they both took one look at the accommodations and Chase announced that he would take the couch, which she was relieved about even as she suffered guilt over him sleeping on what was in essence a glorified wooden pallet with a thin cushion tossed over the boards.

As she moved to the primitive bathroom and made do with a trickle of lukewarm water to wash herself, she combed over the plan of action.

She couldn’t have been more shocked to receive the command handed down from the secretary of state that Con’s request for her to join Chase in Syria was a go. Before boarding the military transport, she grilled him about the assignment and was given no more than a tightening of lips in response.

Two more times she asked him the same questions, demanding answers, and only after they arrived at the safehouse—and he performed a sweep of the place for any listening devices—did he respond.

She may not be the only target, and they were here to find some answers.

Ten minutes later they were winding through the crowded streets of Syria in an old car.

“This car seems like it’s going to strand us along the road,” she said, gripping the side of the seat.

“We only have it for one day, then we’re on our own.”

“That seems odd.”

He grunted but said nothing. The drive was tense. Plumes of dust kicked up from the tires and blurred the vehicles behind them. Though she didn’t know the area well, the style of the buildings they passed were just as she remembered from the last time she was here—sand-colored, their windows shuttered.

Chase swung his head left and right, focused on checking mirrors and scanning every alleyway, the muscles of his forearms bound up tight.

“You told me that we could both be targets of that attack. But I’m going to need a little more information here.”

“Fine. We have two missions to complete.”

She studied his profile and the set of his angular jaw. “I’m listening.”

“We’re here to revisit two incidents. One: the downed helicopter carrying a SEAL team. A Blackout team.”

“Explain Blackout.”

“Ghost ops. We’re deep black ops, so deep that none of us can be found. Echo team was part of Blackout, but almost every man on the team was wiped out in that crash.”

“Explain almost every man.”

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