Finding Her Chance: A Stealth Ops Novel
Finding Her Chance
A Stealth Ops Novel
Brittney Sahin
Emko Media LLC
Finding Her Chance
By: Brittney Sahin
Published by: EmKo Media, LLC
Copyright © 2019 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 EmKoMedia@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Editor: Deb Markanton
Editor: Anja, HourGlass Editing
Proofreader: Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading
Cover Design: LJ, Mayhem Cover Creations
Photography: Eric Battershell
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.
Ebook ISN: 9781947717176
Paperback ISBN: 9781097895274
Created with Vellum
To our military spouses.
Contents
Prologue: Recruitment
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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
Also by Brittney Sahin
Playlist
About the Author
Prologue: Recruitment
Coronado, California
“You know, you’re a walking stereotype.”
Liam’s gaze slid sideways to match a face to the voice. A pretty redhead with pale green eyes studied him.
“You should try a little harder if you want to hide the fact you’re a SEAL.” A smug smile skirted her glossy lips. Clearly, she was proud of herself for identifying him as a Teamguy.
Liam planted his palms on the bar top counter and straightened his back. He scanned the wall of liquor bottles before his eyes landed on Brent Flannigan, the owner of the pub.
Brent gave him a light shake of the head, a signal the woman was trouble.
Yeah, Liam knew her type. Since joining the teams, a decade ago at nineteen, he’d encountered plenty of women who loved to hook up with Teamguys. And it was a major turn-off.
“Oh, really?” Liam wrapped a hand around his glass of Coke and feigned interest in the napkin beneath.
“You’ve got an American flag on your shirt. Probably made by Forged.” She paused. “The G-shock watch on your wrist and Gatorz sunglasses on your head are also dead giveaways.”
He glimpsed at her out of the corner of his eye before casually gulping down half of his drink.
“Probably have a frogman or trident tatt somewhere beneath that T-shirt of yours, too. But . . . I’ll let you buy me a drink, anyway.”
Brent shot him another look, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The guy was enjoying every minute of this. He’d been on the teams until an IED stole part of his leg.
Brent was a survivor, though. He’d gone on to train the Naval Special Warfare Developmental Group—DEVGRU—recruits for Green Team after that. And now, he ran an Irish pub, often frequented by women hoping to score with SEALs.
“You’re right. You caught me.” Liam lifted his palms in surrender and faced her with a smile.
And in three, two, one.
She scoffed and stood, then backed away like he was some disease carrier. “No way are you a SEAL. Obviously, you’re a fake.” She rolled her eyes. “No real SEAL would admit to being one.”
Her sandals smacked against the concrete floor as she sashayed to the door, then slammed it so hard it rattled some of the nearby framed photos of war heroes on the wall.
“Well played, brother.” Brent stood before him and pressed his hands to the counter. “But really, she was right. You look like a fucking Teamguy,” he said in a low voice.
“Why do you think I dress like this?” Liam laughed. “Hell, it doesn’t matter what I do. When I’m in Coronado, I get accused of being a SEAL, so—”
“Act like someone pretending to be a SEAL?” Brent smiled. “Brilliant.”
Liam finished his Coke. “But this is why I rarely come down here. No offense.” He loved getting laid, but Coronado was swimming with frog hogs—women who wanted to screw as many SEALs as possible—and sex because of his job title? Nah, he was good.
Brent wiped down the counter, tossed the rag over his shoulder, and then crossed his arms. “You have that look, like your skin is all itchy. You must be on standby.”
“It’s the worst, man. No drinking. No partying. Nothing.” He spent most of his time prepping for missions that Washington inevitably turned down. But on the off chance he got the call for an op, he had to remain sober at all times.
“I remember those days,” Brent said, even though it hadn’t been that long ago since he’d been active duty. “How’s your grandfather doing? He still living in Virginia?”
“Yeah, I owe him a visit when I get some time off. My mum flew in from Sydney a few months ago and stayed with him for a couple of weeks, but I was overseas.” Liam stood.
“Well, next time you see him tell him I said ‘hello.’ He’s a good man. Served our country for a long time.”
“Yeah, and he left some pretty big shoes to fill,” Liam said with a smile.
“You’re not doing so bad yourself.” Brent nodded. “When was the last time you went Down Under to see the rest of your family, mate?” His imitation of Liam’s Australian accent was comical.
“A few years.”
Brent’s gaze locked on something over Liam’s shoulder, and Liam pivoted to follow his stare.
Luke Scott strode through the pub with another Teamguy, Wyatt Pierson, at his side.
He didn’t recognize the blonde to Luke’s left, though.
“Flannigan. Been a long time, man,” Luke said once he closed in on the bar.
“You here for this guy or me?” Brent jerked a thumb Liam’s way. “Or is this a chance run-in?” He came around from behind the bar to embrace Luke in a quick one-arm hug.
“I’m here for Liam.” Luke reached to shake Liam’s hand. “But seeing you is a bonus.” He pointed to the woman at his side. “This is my sister, Jessica.”
Liam adjusted the band of his watch while Brent shook
her hand, then he followed suit. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.” A damn firm grip.
Tall. Blonde. Ice-blue eyes. A walking cover model.
Not his usual type, though—especially since she was Luke’s sister.
Liam greeted Wyatt next. “What brings you all here?”
Luke looked at Brent. “You mind if we steal him for a few minutes?”
“Of course. Drinks on me when you come back.”
Luke nodded, and Liam followed the three of them out of the pub. “How’s it going, man? I assume you’re on standby?” Luke patted him on the shoulder as they headed toward the beach on the other side of the street.
“Yeah, unfortunately.” The sun beat down on the water, and the golden sand sparkled. He slipped on his sunglasses and tucked his hands into the pockets of his board shorts as they walked. “So.” He dragged in a deep breath, suddenly feeling like a recruit again. The nerves in his stomach trekked up into his throat.
Luke Scott didn’t make social calls. The man was a legend. And here he was, walking on the beach with Liam. And Wyatt, well, he’d all but reinvented what it meant to be a sniper for the SEALs.
Liam had mad respect for both of them.
The presence of Luke’s sister . . . that was throwing him off, though.
“Wyatt and I left our teams.”
Luke’s words stopped him in his tracks. He slowly removed his hands from his pockets.
Liam’s job as a sniper was to recall details about every setting at any given time. Snipers were intelligence gatherers first and foremost, which most civilians didn’t realize.
But at the moment, he barely noticed the two women in matching red string bikinis in his peripheral vision.
“What? Why?” He scratched his beard, which he’d finally had trimmed upon his return from Kandahar four weeks ago.
“Technically, we’re still SEALs,” Luke said once the two hotties in bikinis were out of earshot. “Just on a different team.”
He took a beat to absorb the words before focusing on Luke’s sister, hoping for some clarity. “What’s going on?”
She removed her black aviator sunglasses. “We’re forming a team of covert operatives to run missions for the president, CIA director, and a few other higher-ups. Only a handful of people will know what we’re doing; our ops will be off the radar.”
Liam tilted his head skyward, attempting to corral his thoughts. If they were telling him about a newly formed, secret group that meant only one thing: they wanted him on the team.
“You’re one of the best bloody snipers in the world.” Wyatt’s British accent still clung to his speech despite his time in the U.S.
“We’d like you to join our team,” Jessica said.
Liam still wasn’t sure how she fit into the equation.
“I was CIA,” she said softly, reading his thoughts. “And, in part, forming this team was my idea. I want to conduct missions that won’t get caught up by red tape. We’ll use an alias, Scott and Scott Securities, as our cover.”
That explained her role, but he still had a lot of questions.
Although, the idea of sidestepping the bureaucratic bullshit was damn appealing.
Hell, how many target packages in the last few weeks had his people presented only to be blocked by the suits sitting comfortably in Washington?
Of course, would working directly for POTUS or the CIA director be any different?
“We’re creating two five-man teams. Bravo and Echo,” Luke explained. “I’ll be Bravo One. And I’ve asked Wyatt to be Echo One.”
“And between ops, what will we do?” He hated idle time.
“We’ll take on legit security jobs for Scott and Scott Securities,” Jessica answered.
“I understand this is a lot to take in, but—” Luke started.
“I’m in,” Liam cut him off.
“Told you he’d be down.” Wyatt grinned and slapped Luke on the back.
“Welcome to the team, Bravo Four,” Luke said. “The president will be speaking to your CO this afternoon to explain your departure.”
“I assume my CO will get an alternate version of the truth?” He’d prefer to be the one to tell his platoon why he was leaving, though.
Jessica nodded.
“Why don’t you enjoy the surf today,” Luke suggested. “We’re gearing up for our first op. We head out tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah?” A burst of excitement traveled up his spine, and he arched his shoulders back. “Where to?”
“Argentina,” Jessica said. “Short notice, I know. Not much time for goodbyes, but—”
“No, I’m game.” He’d miss his platoon, but damn, he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter One
Córdoba, Argentina
Six and a Half Years Later
Liam spread his arms wide, slowing his velocity to catch the wind. He was traveling three hundred and five meters every six point five seconds. The dark sky quickly released its embrace of him as he neared his destination.
His team was performing a high-altitude-low-opening, or HALO, jump over enemy territory. It’d been a while since he’d jumped. And ironically, his first op as Bravo Four had been twenty kilometers away from today’s drop zone.
Joining the team was a decision he didn’t regret, and he knew he never would.
All the ops. The lives saved. Every single moment. It’d all been worth it.
He took a few seconds to enjoy the silence, having forgotten how much he loved the feeling of flying, of sailing through the air like man was meant to be there.
Liam spied the green numbers on his altimeter, checked his compass, then pulled the release to his chute.
The parachute filled with air, slowing him down, and he gently tugged on the steering lines to bank into a turn and head toward the landing area. “This is Bravo Four. I’m in position,” Liam announced over his radio to the lead jumper, Asher Hayes.
Asher was Bravo Three, but he often took over for Luke Scott as Bravo One whenever Luke was unable to join operations. At the moment, Luke was on his honeymoon in Hawaii.
Only a few days ago, Luke and Eva tied the knot in Vegas. And at the same time, Bravo Two, Owen, also married the love of his life. And unbeknownst to everyone, Liam—
“This is Bravo Five,” Knox’s voice came over the line, interrupting Liam’s thoughts. “I had a cutaway.”
“You good, Bravo Five?” Asher asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. The reserve saved my ass,” Knox answered.
Liam lined himself up with the target and the rest of the jumpers as they closed in on their position.
The Argentinian government probably refused to green light an American-backed op, so the president had to call in Liam’s people. Of course, if anything happened to them they’d be screwed, but that was the risk they took with every mission, even the ones on their own soil.
Once Liam grounded his chute, removed his oxygen mask, and gathered up his gear, he approached Knox to make sure he was okay. “What the hell happened up there?”
Liam’s mind had been off ever since he’d left the hotel in Vegas after the double-wedding on Sunday. Even now, it was as if the frequencies in his brain were jammed, and static cut through every fifth thought. So, if anyone should have had a bad jump, he thought it would have been him.
“It’s been a long-ass time since we’ve done this.” Knox knelt to check his gear. “I jumped stiff, pulled too early . . . let’s just say when we get home I’ll be jumping from a plane every weekend to ensure that shit doesn’t happen again.”
Knox always owned his mistakes. He didn’t sugarcoat anything, and Liam appreciated that about him.
“Yeah, I should probably go with you,” he replied, even though his mind kept whipping back to what had happened in Vegas. And no matter how many times he’d hit the kill switch, his thoughts had begun to convert from a slow trickle to an end-of-days type of flood.
“I’m thinking we
all should get our asses up in the sky after we’re home,” Asher joined the conversation. “Been too long for everyone.”
They weren’t exactly jumping from C-130s with jumpmasters, either. Since their teams didn’t technically exist, they had less to work with.
Liam surveyed the rest of the crew as they gathered to prep for part two: the extraction.
Jessica and their latest CIA recruit, Harper Brooks, waited in position five kilometers away at the exfil site.
He positioned his night-vision goggles until the green hue filled his line of sight. “How certain are we our target is at this compound?”
“Eighty percent,” Asher answered. “Trust me, I’m not a fan of relying on intel from the CIA, but they said she’d be inside. So, let’s hope the CIA’s asset got this right.”
“And we’re not walking into a trap,” Wyatt pointed out.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Asher held his palms in the air while tilting his head to the side, his way of saying, Shit happens, and if it does, roll with it.
“How many guards are there supposed to be again?” Liam asked.
“Eight to ten.” Asher shifted his NVGs atop his helmet to find Liam’s eyes, which prompted Liam to do the same. “Yo, you sure you’re good?”
Maybe he wasn’t. Shit. He never forgot the details of an op.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” More like six tequila shots past screwed, but he wasn’t about to unleash his feelings on the boys as they geared up.