Page 89 of Hidden Agendas (Tempting SEALs 4)

She turned as he disconnected and stared back at her with offended male irritation.

“Who’s creating the traffic jam?” she asked as she glanced down at the clothes she wore. Loose cotton pants and Kell’s T-shirt—because she wanted to keep his scent wrapped around her.

“Your father.” His voice simmered with frustration. “Admiral Holloran and Captain Malone.”

“Captain Malone?” She frowned as she pulled the deli-wrapped sandwich meat from the refrigerator before reaching in for the rest of the sandwich fixings. “That’s Nathan Malone’s uncle. He was with Dad and Uncle Sam before he left the SEALs.”

The three men had been part of an elite strike force, along with two others. One had died several years back, but Jansen Clay, one of her father’s best friends, and the father of one of the girls kidnapped with Emily, was still close to him as well.

As she laid out the sandwich ingredients a frown flitted between her brows at the thought of the men. Why would Jordan Malone be with her father and the admiral?

She dreaded seeing him. She still felt vaguely responsible for the SEAL who had died rescuing her. When she had learned that SEAL was Nathan Malone, her grief had been nearly unbearable.

He was Kell’s age, but she had known him all her life, just as she had known Risa Clay all her life. Risa was still in the hospital, her young mind damaged by the effects of the Whore’s Dust she had been given during her kidnapping.

Jansen hadn’t contacted her since the rescue, and she hadn’t seen him or Risa. The doctors were allowing only supervised visits by family members.

“. . . reports that Nathan’s alive.”

Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice.

“What did you say?” She had been so involved with her memories of Risa that she hadn’t caught his last sentence.

He stared back at her, his gaze somber.

“We received a report that Nathan’s still alive and being held by Fuentes’s spy. Pictures were sent to Macey, and it’s definitely Nathan.”

She stilled, the lettuce she had been tearing apart forgotten as shock resounded through her.

“It’s been almost two years,” she whispered.

“Nineteen months, and from the looks of those pictures, Nathan has suffered every day of it.” Fury flashed in Kell’s eyes, and Emily knew that if he ever managed to get his hands on whoever was spying for Fuentes, the man would die. Painfully.

“How could a spy hold Nathan that long?” She shook her head in confusion. Nathan wasn’t a weak man. He was one of the strongest she knew. “And where?”

“Where, we don’t know.” He pushed his fingers restlessly through his long hair as a tight, feral grimace twisted his features. “We’ll find him though.”

Her lips parted in surprise at the violence that gleamed in his eyes before her head jerked to the patio doors and the soft knock on the outside glass.

Kell turned out the living room lights before checking outside then opening the panel wide enough for the men to slip through.

Her father was first, followed by the admiral, Captain Malone, and then the rest of the SEAL team Kell was working with.

They all looked at the bar where Emily was laying out the food.

“Help yourselves to sandwiches.” She waved her hand at the mounds of lunch meat and vegetables before setting out two loaves of bread from the cabinet and pulling a gallon of sweet tea from the inside of the refrigerator. It was a good thing she’d gone grocery s

hopping before heading to D.C.

She hadn’t seen Jordan Malone in years. He was several years younger than her father; he would be forty-five or so. He had just signed on to her father’s team the year her father had been wounded and forced into a training position.

His hair was still mostly black, though there was more gray than she had noticed last time. He stood a little over six feet, with dark grayish-blue eyes and a hawklike expression. Texas born and raised, he had a rough-and-ready demeanor, even now.

He was a childless widower and she knew he had loved his nephew as though he were his own child. The report of Nathan’s death had hit him hard.

As Emily set out the paper plates and large plastic cups she kept for the rare instances that she had company, she watched the men who filled her living room, along with Kira. They were hard, dangerous men, but they were men whose expressions were also tempered with compassion and friendship.

Helping themselves to sandwiches and sweet tea, they pulled the available kitchen chairs into the living room, arranged them around the living room, and sat down to go over the details of the information they had on Fuentes, his spy, and the missing SEAL they had all grieved for.

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