Page 17 of Married to the SEAL
“The whole mansion is bugged.”
“Probably Trane. The guy he’s running against.”
“Could be. I haven’t figured out who the bad guys are yet.”
Red really was operating in the dark, his connection to HERO Force his only assistance, and Cowboy felt a moment’s concern. “Plot twist, brother. It’s you and me.”
“Sometimes it feels that way, man.”
Cowboy knew exactly what he meant. “Stay safe, Red. Don’t trust anybody, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”
10
Matteo neededto stay the course. It was an expression used by his commander in BUD/S training time and time again. Don’t get distracted. Ignore everything except your goal. An image of himself in Hell Week rose up in his mind, his body more fatigued than he knew was possible, his mind determined and focused.
He couldn’t let the apparent simplicity of this assignment make him undisciplined. Pretend to be Grace’s husband until the election, keep her safe, go back to the States and get an annulment. Period.
Keep his hands off her. His mind, too.
He brushed a piece of lint off his jacket. His suit looked expensive, with satin lapels on the jacket and French cuffs on the shirt. He’d never worn anything like it.
This assignment was chock full of surprises.
Like Grace.
He remembered their kisses, adrenaline instantly surging through his bloodstream.
Dammit.
She was intriguing, and he needed to keep his interest in check. He thought of the baby, wondering who his father was and what had become of his relationship with Grace.
Was it possible he was the one who left the note in the baby’s nursery? Better question—did he even know the baby existed?
He straightened his tie. The question was a deeply personal one for him, having grown up with a single mother as his only parent. He never met his own father, and more than once as a kid, he told himself maybe his dad didn’t know he existed at all.
Because then he wasn’t so unwanted.
Shit.
If he lived to be a hundred and ten, he’d still act like a five-year-old where his father was concerned, and this assignment was hitting a little too close to home.
His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, not recognizing the number. “Cruz.”
“This is General Talia. The bomb at the stadium just exploded. More than half the lives were lost.”
Matteo made the sign of the cross. “Dios mio,” he whispered.
“It gets worse. Moments before the blast, I received a phone call from the house’s outgoing line, telling me it was about to happen.”
Matteo frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“The call came from inside the house. The bomber is here for your reception.”
11
Grace reachedher hand inside her dress, pulling at the tight fabric. “I guess it will have to do. The others don’t fit at all.”
She eyed herself in the mirror with some concern. The cream-colored organza dress had two straps of gathered material that widened to cover each breast before joining her full skirt at her waist. Her back was bare.
