Page 1 of Hidden Attraction

ONE

The conference room went dead silent.

Not the kind of silence that came from training and discipline, but the kind that hung heavy and oppressive in the air. Like seconds before a storm broke wide open.

Julian Chase—aka Cobra—sat at the foot of the table facing the big screen on the wall. His elbows rested on the table and his boots were planted wide in a position to jump to action the minute his leader gave the order.

No one spoke or moved. The laughter between two of the men on the SEAL team silenced, and everyone else seemed to freeze in their seats. The shift in their energy was palpable.

Chase’s jaw was locked but he kept his expression neutral just like the rest of the men on the Blackout Charlie team. But anyone with half a brain could see none of them were grounded. They were all wired, seated on both sides of the long table in stiff poses, shoulders bunched, arms folded across their chests.

“I think we found our bomb.”

Con switched on the big screen. The hum of the projector filled the throbbing stillness.

Tension flickered under Chase’s skin like a live wire.

The screen lit up with an image. The footage was from a closed-circuit camera, grainy and grayscale. The schoolhouse in the desert—isolated, flat-roofed, surrounded by nothing.

Chase blinked at the screen. Then stared at the image of the schoolhouse like he could drill a hole into the brick walls.

“This was formerly listed as an abandoned school facility on the New Mexico border.” Con’s tone was clipped. “It was repurposed for ICE processing. The detainment center held up to fifty people at a time.”

Chase’s breath became shallower. Dear god. He knew that building.

Con continued. “As of twenty-four hours ago, it held twenty-seven immigrants from various countries, nine ICE officers and two civilians who were hired as custodial staff. And three guards from the local military police.”

Across the screen came a ripple, then the building exploded. No warning. Just fire and dust. The camera shook as the facility folded in on itself with a violent blast that distorted the image.

The guys around the table flinched. Hell, even SEALs weren’t immune to that kind of sudden violence.

Julian was already moving, on his feet, bolting out of the room.

“Cobra—” Con’s voice chased him, but he ignored his commanding officer.

Henner shoved his chair away from the table. “You okay, man?” he called out.

Chase never answered. He sprinted through the halls of the mansion that served as Charlie’s base. His boots hammered the floor, echoing off the high ceilings like a thud of danger. His chest was tight, a solid fist jammed into his lungs.

Above all, SEALs were trained to not act on their emotions. But this…

This was different.

It wasn’t just an old school in the middle of New Mexico.

It wasn’t just an ICE facility.

It was Echo’s former base.

He burst into his private quarters. Ripped open a drawer. Grabbed the photo at the back, behind old foreign coins he’d collected and that watch that hadn’t ticked since that op in Syria.

He located the photo that he’d never shown to another living soul.

The picture showed twelve of them, sun-drenched, shirts off. All smiles and middle fingers. A snapshot of youth and arrogance and a brotherhood forged in steel.

Almost all of them were dead.

All but him.

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