Page 71 of Covert Temptation

Steele’s syrupy Southern drawl came faster now. “At the time of the crash, he was already out of Blackout—released on medical. But both men were in Syria guarding Alyssa during hostage negotiations.”

Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. “We know what happened to the first special operative—he was in a car accident while on leave. What happened to the other?”

Kennedy had stopped writing on the whiteboard, marker hovering. Her blonde hair swung forward, partially concealing her face, but Dante sensed her watching him.

Steele paused. “He was killed in a so-called hunting accident in Kentucky. Bullet to the back.”

“Jesus. What medical examiner ruled that anaccident?”

Kennedy dropped the marker and straightened to face him, her espresso eyes wide and fixed on Dante.

“Clearly it’s some sort of cover-up,” Steele responded.

Dante scrubbed a hand over his face. The pressure building in his chest wasn’t fear anymore. It wasfury. For his brothers who died.

“So he was afterallof Echo team, plus anyone who was there. Anyone who might remember something. Anyone who could have been the reason his mother died in the explosion.”

“Like Alyssa,” he confirmed.

Dante nodded slowly to himself. Now that he had this information, he knew what to do. “I’ll dig. Thanks, brother.”

“Stay sharp, Mainframe.”

Call ended, Dante sat in the throbbing silence, his jaw locked tight. He missed the noise of his team, the shared goals, the endless comms chatter that always made him feel like part of something unbreakable, even if he wasn’t in the thick of it with them.

Quickly, he hurried to close the back door so no other security breaches could take place.

He glanced up to meet Kennedy’s steady gaze.

Here, it was just him and the woman in the kitchen who had the power to turn him inside out with one look.

And he sure as hell wouldn’t trust her life in anyone else’s hands.

He felt himself rock with the force of the thought that landed harder than expected.

“Tell me what I can do.” Her soft tone stroked over him like a caress, a supportive touch he’d never had before.

Dante refocused. “Hand me the marker.”

She did, her fingers brushing his. He couldn’t help it—he leaned in close to her, breathing in the scent of her, and pressed a tender kiss between her puckered brows.

She seemed to relax and when they drew apart, they were both ready to work harder.

As he laid it all out on the whiteboard, drawing lines connecting the events to Echo team and adding to the timeline, he explained everything to Kennedy. She was silent as he talked, her face solemn and slightly paler than it had been an hour before.

When he finished writing it all down, he took out his phone, snapped a photo of the board and sent it to Con.

The phone rang again. This time, Con’s voice filled Dante’s ear.

“Nice timeline,” his commanding officer said dryly. “I see you had help.”

Dante grunted. “How do you know that?”

“The i’s are dotted with hearts, man.”

Dante looked harder at the board, then laughed despite himself. “What can I say? Kennedy’s organized as hell. I let her work her magic.”

Kennedy beamed at him, and he returned the smile, feeling that stirring low in his gut again.

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