Chasing the Knight: A Stealth Ops Novel Read online

  Chasing the Knight

  A Stealth Ops Novel

  Brittney Sahin

  Emko Media, LLC

  Chasing the Knight

  By: Brittney Sahin

  Published by: EmKo Media, LLC

  Copyright © 2020 EmKo Media, LLC

  This book is an original publication of Brittney Sahin.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting [email protected] Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chief Editor: Deb Markanton

  Editor: Arielle Brubaker

  Proofreader: Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Cover Design: LJ, Mayhem Cover Creations

  Photography: Eric Battershell Photography

  Ebook ISN: 9781947717220

  Created with Vellum

  To my new friends C. and M. - thank you for answering all of my questions to help make this book as accurate and realistic as possible.

  Contents

  Also By Brittney Sahin

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Part II

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part III

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part IV

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Epilogue

  Stealth Ops Team

  Playlist

  Reading Guide

  Where Else To Find Me

  Also By Brittney Sahin

  Stealth Ops: Bravo Team

  Finding His Mark - Bravo One, Luke

  Finding Justice - Bravo Two, Owen

  Finding the Fight - Bravo Three, Asher

  Finding Her Chance - Bravo Four, Liam

  Finding the Way Back - Bravo Five, Knox

  Stealth Ops: Echo Team

  Chasing the Knight - Echo One, Wyatt

  Chasing Daylight - Echo Two, A.J. (7/30/20)

  Book 8 - Echo Three, Chris

  Book 9 - Echo Four, Roman

  Book 10 - Echo Five, Finn

  Becoming Us: Stealth Ops spin-off series

  Someone Like You

  My Every Breath

  Dublin Nights

  On the Edge

  On the Line

  The Real Deal

  The Inside Man (4/30/20)

  Hidden Truths

  The Safe Bet

  Beyond the Chase

  The Hard Truth

  Surviving the Fall

  The Final Goodbye

  Contemporary Romance

  The Story of Us

  Part I

  PROLOGUE

  When they first met

  2013

  Chapter One

  San Diego (January 2013)

  “I thought I’d find you here. You always did prefer to be outside.”

  Wyatt kept his eyes downcast on the roaring fire, which was surrounded by stacked river rocks to keep the flames at bay. It was a bit too rustic for this setting and seemed more fitting of his place back in Colorado than California.

  “I guess some things never change.” His words drummed up reminders of why he and Clara had never worked out—but the main reason: he couldn’t change. He couldn’t be what she’d needed.

  He slowly turned toward the bride on the terrace, not sure how he’d feel when facing her one-on-one tonight.

  As a sniper, his job was to pay attention to the minutest detail. It was a skill that’d become ingrained in him over the years and was impossible to turn off. But hell if he didn’t want to shut it down right now. He didn’t want to notice details.

  The way her raven-black hair fell over her shoulders in tight curls, lying in stark contrast against the neckline of her off-white ball gown.

  The layers of fabric sparkling with crystals sewn into the skirt of the dress, making her look like a Disney princess—the antithesis to her usual get-up: cutoff jean shorts and a ribbed tank top stained with dirt from playing ball with the guys.

  He swiped at his trimmed blond beard and blinked a few times before redirecting his focus to her blue eyes. “I should’ve given you a proper wedding like this.” He nodded toward the banquet hall off to his right where the band played and couples danced inside.

  Their wedding had been at the courthouse. Impersonal, almost clinical.

  No white dress. No tux.

  They’d even had swimwear on beneath their clothes so they could go surfing right after they said their vows.

  “We were young.” Her voice was soft, a hint apologetic.

  He reached out, taking her hands into his, then leaned in and brought his mouth to her cheek. “Congratulations. You look stunning.” He held on to her for a moment, probably a moment too long, as memories of their life together catapulted to mind. The good and bad times.

  “I didn’t know if you’d show.”

  He finally let go of her and forced his hands into his pockets. “I did RSVP, didn’t I?”

  Had the invite not been via email, he’d never have seen it. He’d been wrapping up five months of combat deployment in Afghanistan when he’d learned Dale Franklin was tying the knot with Clara.

  “Most guys wouldn’t come to their ex-wife’s wedding.”

  True, but . . . “So, why’d you invite me?”

  “Because we’re friends now.”

  Friends? Yeah, he supposed they were, even though they didn’t talk all that often. “Right,” he said on a sigh.

  She smoothed her hands up and down her biceps, a sure indication her nerves were about on point with his. Clara could easily handle the chill in the air, and sixty degrees for January wasn’t that bad.

  He turned and looked out at Mission Bay, the boat lights bobbing on the dark water, and his thoughts drifted to his training at BUD/S, specifically to his second attempt at earning his trident.

  “You’re happy with Dale?” That’s all he wanted for h
er. Happiness. The kind of life he hadn’t been able to give her since he was too screwed up.

  At the feel of her hand on his arm, he stiffened. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real.”

  She let go of him, and when he stole a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze was on the fire pit. “You remember the first time we met?”

  “How could I forget?” He focused back on the orange-red flames that swayed in the gentle breeze. “You did save my life.”

  “Did you ever tell the boys you used to be shit in the water?” She’d never let him live that down.

  He smiled. “Sure, tell my mates I got whacked over the head by a surfboard and you had to give me mouth-to-mouth? No damn way.”

  Clara had been a beast in the water when they’d met. A badass surfer and also a kick-ass Marine.

  She chuckled, but then fell silent, and it was as if they were both watching a flag lowered to half-staff. “Try not to work too hard. Maybe settle down and find someone who makes you happy.”

  She knew him too well to suggest he’d ever find love. But he was already happy, wasn’t he? His work was all he needed. His brothers in the Navy. But he offered her a, “Yeah, maybe,” since he knew she still clung to the dream that one day he would realize he was worthy of love. Somehow Clara had remained an optimist over the years, never letting war taint her outlook on the world or her opinion that people were inherently good. She still believed in him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

  “I should probably get back to the guests.” Her voice was as powdery soft as a fresh blanket of snow.

  She patted his chest and walked away, the fabric of her gown dragging behind her.

  “Wyatt?” She twisted back around. “Don’t die.”

  “You stole my line.” Those had been his words to her each time they said goodbye when she deployed. A simple but honest request to return home. “I’ll do my best,” he mimicked the response she used to give him. Also simple. Also honest.

  After a few minutes, he went back inside, in desperate need of a drink to get through the night. The banquet hall had a coastal chic vibe to go with the outdoor landscape. Overall, the room was uncomplicated, which was much more Clara’s style than the wedding dress she had on.

  He navigated through the crowd, doing his best to avoid conversation, especially with Clara’s parents, and made his way to the second and smaller bar, which was tucked off to the side near the coat check.

  “Whiskey. Whatever kind you’ve got.” He dropped his elbows onto the counter and lowered his face into his palm.

  “You hate weddings as much as I do?”

  The woman had the kind of voice that could sell car insurance to a man without a car. Like velvet or silk, her tone was smooth and low. A hint of Southern.

  When he pivoted to his right, his eyes cut straight to a pair of pale green irises. “I’m not the biggest fan of weddings,” he admitted.

  Her bluish-gray dress was not a bridesmaid gown, thank God. It flowed from the waist down but fit tight at the top, and he did his best not to focus on the deep V that offered a hint of cleavage.

  She pushed her golden blonde hair off her shoulder and smiled, drawing his eyes to her very kissable lips.

  “What about you? Most women like weddings, right?”

  “Not all women. Why do you think I’m hiding over here in the corner?” The playfulness in her tone got his engine revving, and his body went from zero to sixty.

  He had just returned from a five-month stint in Kabul. Five months without any hook-ups. And this was his only weekend in California before he headed back to Dam Neck. Maybe he could . . .

  Wyatt let go of his thoughts when she brought a cocktail glass to her lips, and he spied her G-shock watch, which should’ve looked out of place paired with the dress, but for some reason, it suited her.

  “What?” She arched a brow and lowered the glass to the counter off to her right.

  “You military?”

  Her light green eyes dropped to the watch, and her lips twitched as if she were battling both a smile and frown. “My brother was in the Army. It was his.”

  Was? “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “No, no.” She waved a hand between them, nearly hitting his chest. “He left because of a medical injury, but he’s okay. Doing better than ever, actually.”

  Thank God.

  “But wearing his watch, knowing by some miracle he survived, it makes me feel”—she shrugged—“grounded or something. Protected. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

  He could understand that.

  He reached for the tumbler the bartender had slid his way, and when his sleeve shifted a touch to expose his Casio, she pointed to his wrist. “Seeing as though you have one on, does that mean you’re in the service? British?”

  “American Navy. Don’t let the accent fool you.”

  “Aw. Navy versus Army. Great rivalry. Love watching the football games.”

  He absorbed her words. Took in the sight of her full lips. Her gorgeous eyes.

  She had that sweet girl-next-door look. The sexy girl next door. An innocent smile that could destroy a man’s thoughts.

  “So, uh, why don’t you like weddings?”

  One eye closed as if she were hesitant to spill the truth. “You’ve heard about runaway bride syndrome, right?”

  No way did she jet off and leave some poor chap at the altar, did she?

  “You’re a runner?” he asked, nearly choking on his whiskey.

  “Instead of runaway bride—picture runaway groom.”

  “What man in his right mind would leave you?”

  “No idea. I’m a great catch,” she said with a teasing smile. “But I plan on being forever single, and I’m fine with that.”

  “Well, the arse that left you is a bloody fool.”

  Wyatt peered around the room and caught Clara dancing with her husband to a slower song. Not far away was Admiral Chandler, covered in chest candy, dancing with his wife. He wasn’t sure of Chandler’s connection to Clara or Dale. It wasn’t every day an admiral of his stature showed up to a wedding.

  “Tell me your brother kicked the shit out of your ex, at least.”

  “My fiancé was my brother’s best friend.”

  Shit. “All the more reason to box the head off him.”

  Her eyes flicked to the vaulted ceiling before moving back to the dance floor. “Anyway, you feel like going outside? There’s a fire pit no one is using.”

  My kind of woman. “Absolutely.” He followed her through the crowd, laser-focused on her fit body as they traversed the room of two hundred people.

  Once on the terrace, she held her palms open and did a three-sixty as if relieved to be free of the reception. “Much better.”

  As Wyatt strode closer, the scent of burning wood, mingling with touches of vanilla from her perfume, wafted his way on a sudden breeze. “I’d give you my jacket, but I don’t have a bloody clue where I tossed it earlier.”

  “Oh, this weather’s perfect. I’m fine.” She dropped onto one of the four rustic chairs that surrounded the fire pit, the slit of her dress shifting to expose one long, tan leg. But it was the silver-colored flip-flop that had him smiling.

  “Nice touch.”

  “The whole beauty-is-pain thing never worked for me,” she drawled.

  “You a Texan?” he asked while occupying the chair next to her, but he repositioned it to face her instead of the fire. He worked with a lot of Teamguys from the Lone Star State, so the accent was fairly familiar.

  “Dallas. Born and raised.” She offered her hand. “Natasha.”

  He reached for her palm. “Wyatt.” He cleared his throat when she’d yet to retract her hand, but he wasn’t in a hurry to let go either. “You still live there?”

  “Virginia now. D.C. border.”

  “You in politics?” He didn’t get that vibe from her, but then again, aside from getting a read on her Texas roots, he couldn’t figure much else out about her. br />
  “I work at the State Department,” she answered. “Telecommunications specialist.” She slipped her palm free of his, her gaze moving to the flickering flames.

  Most people he’d met in that role at the State Department were actually CIA officers. Surely, she wasn’t, but he couldn’t help but joke, “Ah, so you’re with The Company?”

  “You’re a comedian, huh?” Her eyes landed on his.

  He waved a finger at her with a slight nod and continued to tease, “Yeah, I can see it now. You work at Langley.” He brought his forearm to the wide plank chair arm and made a play of taking a long look left, then right. “Here on official business?” he asked in a low voice. “You undercover now?”

  She leaned closer and whispered, “Not tonight, but I do have a gun strapped to the inside of my thigh in case Dale tried to run on Clara.” Her brows knitted as she said in a serious voice, playing along with the charade, “But you got me, I’m most definitely a CIA agent.”