LITMIR.BIZ

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smile faded. Unless it was only Harvard she was determined to keep her distance from.

      “P.J.’s not seeing anyone, Ron,” Joe told his wife as he slid open the door to the back deck. “She’s working overtime trying to be one of the guys. She’s not going to blow that just because Lucky gives her a healthy dose of the O’Donlon charm.”

      “Some women find heart-stoppingly handsome blond men like Lucky irresistible,” Veronica teased. “Particularly heart-stoppingly handsome blond men who look as if they’ve stepped off the set of Baywatch.”

      “There’s no rule against a SEAL getting together with a FInCOM agent.” Harvard managed to keep his voice calm. “I have no problem with it, either. As long as the two of them are discreet.” The minute he got back to base, he was going to track down O’Donlon and… What? Beat him up? Warn him off? He shook his head. He had no claim on the girl.

      “Ronnie, would you please send Blue out here after he gets here?” Joe asked his wife as he led Harvard onto the deck.

      As Harvard closed the door behind him, he looked closely at his longtime friend. The captain of Alpha Squad looked relaxed and happy. The undercurrent of tension that seemed to surround the man like an aura was down to a low glow. And that was amazing, since the meeting tonight was to discuss the fact that the frustration levels regarding this FInCOM training mission were about to go off the chart.

      At least Harvard’s were.

      “You’re not really that bothered by all the interference we’re getting from FInCOM and Admiral Stonegate, are you?” Harvard asked.

      Joe shrugged and leaned both elbows on the deck railing. “You know, H., I knew this program was a lost cause the day I met FInCOM’s choices for the team. To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to get those four working effectively together. So we do what we do, and then we recommend—emphatically—that FInCOM stay the hell out of counterterrorist operations. We suggest—strongly—that they leave that to the SEALs.”

      “If you’re quitting, man, why not just detonate the entire program right now? Why keep on wasting our time with—”

      “Because I’m being selfish.” Joe turned to look at him, his dark eyes serious. “Because Alpha Squad runs at two-hundred-and-fifty percent energy and efficiency one hundred percent of the time, and the guys need this down time. I need this down time. I’m telling you, H., it’s tough on Ronnie with me always leaving. She never knows when we sit down to dinner at night if that’s the last time I’m going to be around for a week or for a month or—God forbid—forever. She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her eyes. And that look’s not there right now because she knows I’m leading this training drill for the next six weeks. She’s got another six weeks of reprieve, and I’m not taking that away from her. Or from any of the other wives, either.”

      “I hear you,” Harvard said. “But it rubs the wrong way. Doing all this for nothing.”

      “It’s not for nothing.” Joe finished his beer. “We’ve just got to revise this mission’s goal. Instead of creating a Combined SEAL/FInCOM counterterrorist team, we’re creating a FInCOM counterterrorist expert. We’re giving this expert all of the information she can possibly carry, and you know what she’s gonna do?”

      “She?”

      “She’s gonna take that expertise back to Kevin Laughton, and she’s gonna tell him and all of the FInCOM leaders that the best thing they can do in a terrorist situation is to step back and let SEAL Team Ten do the job.” Harvard swore. “She?”

      “Yes, I’m referring to P. J. Richards.” Joe grinned. “You know, you should try talking to her sometime. She doesn’t bite.”

      Harvard scowled. “Yes, she does. And I have the teeth marks to prove it.”

      Joe’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, really?”

      Harvard shook his head. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

      “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I almost forgot—you have no problem with her hooking up with Lucky O’Donlon as long as the two of them are discreet.” Joe snorted. “Why do I foresee a temporary transfer for O’Donlon crossing my desk in the near future?”

      “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

      “Well, maybe you should.”

      Harvard clenched his teeth and set his barely touched bottle of beer on the deck railing. “Cat, I’m trying to be professional here.”

      “What happened, she turn you down?”

      Harvard pushed himself off the rail and walked toward the sliding doors, then stopped and walked toward the captain. “What exactly do you envision her role at FInCOM to be?”

      “You’re purposely changing the subject.”

      “Yes, I am.”

      “I can’t believe you haven’t at least tried to get friendly with this woman. If I weren’t a happily married man, I’d be pulling some discreet moves myself. I mean, she’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s—”

      “What exactly do you envision her role at FInCOM to be?” Harvard enunciated very clearly.

      “All right,” Joe said with a shrug. “Be that way.” He drew in a deep breath, taking the time to put his thoughts into words. “Okay, I see her continuing to climb FInCOM’s career ladder and moving into an upper-level position—probably onto Kevin Laughton’s staff. She’s worked with him before. He was the one who insisted she be part of this program in the first place.”

      Kevin Laughton and P.J. Now Harvard had to wonder about that relationship. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes in disgust. Everything became more complicated when women were thrown into the equation. Suddenly sex became an issue, a motivation, a factor.

      A possibility.

      Damn, why couldn’t P.J. just stay in the FInCOM office, safe and sound and out of sight—a distraction for after hours?

      “I see her as being the voice of reason and being right there, on hand, so that when a terrorist situation like that incident at the Athens airport comes up again, she can tell Laughton to get the SEALs involved right from the start instead of waiting a week and a half and getting five agents and ten civilians killed.

      “The U.S. has a no-negotiation policy with terrorists,” Joe Cat went on. “We need to go one step further and consistently deliver an immediate and deadly show of force. Tangos take over another airport? FInCOM snaps to it, and boom, SEAL Team Ten is there within hours. The first CNN report doesn’t bring attention to the bastards’ cause—instead it’s an account of how quickly the Ts were crushed. It’s a report on the number of body bags needed to take the scum out of there. Tangos snatch hostages? Same thing. Boom. We go in, we get them out. No standing around wringing our hands. And eventually the terrorists will realize that their violent action causes a swift and deadly reaction from the United States every single time.”

      “And you think P. J. Richards will really reach a point in FInCOM where her opinion is that important?” Harvard let his skepticism ring in his voice. “Where she can say, ‘Call in the SEALs,’ and have anyone listen to her?”

      “On her own? Probably not,” Joe said baldly. “She’s a woman and she’s black. But I do think Kevin Laughton’s going all the way to the top. And I think P. J. Richards will be close by when he gets there. And I’m betting when she says, ‘Call in the SEALs,’ he’s going to listen.”

      Harvard was silent. Damn, but he hated politics. And he hated the image of Laughton with P.J. by his side.

      “So since our goal has changed,” Harvard asked, crossing his arms and trying to stay focused, “do we still try to convince FInCOM to let us run training ops that extend past their current ten-hour limit? And what about our request to go out of the country with the finks? If you’d prefer to just stay here in Virginia—”

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