him like an electric current, energizing even as it demanded satisfaction.
Figuring she needed sleep—or at least a little time to recover from that last sweaty bout of passion, Nic carefully slid out of her arms. Snagging the comforter from where they’d kicked it to the floor, he carefully draped it over her, tucking the ends to keep in the warmth.
For a second, a long delicious second, he watched her sleep. She didn’t look any less wicked with her eyes closed, and now that he knew what her body was capable of? He’d never think of her as cute again. Nope, this woman was all heat. All power. All temptation.
Nic turned away before he could give in to the lure.
He crossed the bedroom, his steps silent on the sisal rug. Pushing aside one section of the wall’s sheer panels, he pulled open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. The wooden slats ran the length of the bungalow, a low railing open at one end for easy access to the beach.
Nic ignored the deeply cushioned chairs, instead hooking one knee over the rail as he breathed in the damp, salty air.
He stared out over the black waves, letting the power of the ocean fill him, wishing it would soothe the unrelenting pain lodged in his heart.
But now that the sex was done, the memories that haunted him every night flooded back in.
His team was under attack.
He was one man down.
And he couldn’t even see the enemy. He’d tried. He’d put his best man—himself—on it, but while he’d identified the frontline attack, whoever was masterminding the operation was still off his radar.
Team Poseidon was good. Damn good.
That’s why they’d formed. Because they were the best.
Although Nic had known a few of them since his petty officer days, the twelve men had become a team in BUD/S training. It’d been over a decade, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he was right back there in the Grinder. They’d bonded over the challenge, over the pain, over the intense demands on their bodies. One minute they were competing for the best time in the thousand-meter swim, the next they were working together to cart a 150-pound log down the beach. The records they’d set still hadn’t been surpassed. They’d worked together as a team, each one pushing the other to be the best, then better than the best.
So impressed with the way the twelve of them had come together, had teamed up and had balanced each other in those six months, Admiral Cree had wondered just how good they could be.
Under his auspices, Poseidon was born. In return for their promise to pursue his mandate, he’d guaranteed they’d deploy and serve together.
In the decade since Team Poseidon was created, they had become the best. Their reputation was on par with SEAL Team Six. Except unlike SEAL Team Six, whose members switched out regularly, Team Poseidon was exclusive. Each man on the team trained in multiple ratings, each man served under a variety of officers and each one was sent on the most dangerous missions. Together and apart, they upheld the reputation of Poseidon, the god of the sea.
Nic dropped his head back against the wall of his bungalow and stared at the sky. The stars had guided sailors for centuries. He wished like hell they’d guide him now.
Because his team was under attack. His team, and his reputation.
Maybe it hadn’t started as an attack against Poseidon. They’d simply become a convenient scapegoat after Operation: Hammerhead, when an attempt to sell the formula for a stolen chemical formula had gone bad. In the process of clearing his men of the fallout from that foiled operation, Nic had discovered the crime went a lot deeper. And had been going on for a lot longer than just one mission.
If there was ever an enemy Poseidon had to beat, it was this one. But they couldn’t win until they determined the exact identity of that enemy, established his position and assessed his power.
Nic just had to figure out how. But so far, he was failing.
He sighed as he watched a star streak across the sky, its light a blur against the inky black backdrop.
Maybe it was time to revisit the reason why they’d formed the team, what drove them. To do that, he had to start with himself.
The last couple of years, he’d spent more time riding a desk than seeing any action. Sure, he still showed for daily PT, he still trained with the SEAL team. He participated in all of the training maneuvers. But he spent more time administrating than fighting.
He frowned, realizing that it’d been over fourteen months since he’d last had boots on the ground on a mission. And that was way too long. It was time to get back to basics.
That’d help him reconnect to his roots, and help shore up any flagging morale among the team. They’d up their training, too. Time to intensify a few things, including their skills in cryptology.
Lansky was his best tech guy, but the rest of the team needed to up their expertise. Poseidon operated under the belief that every man should be able to do every job, no matter what his rating. So they’d all bone up on their computer skills.
Torres, Rengel and Powers had the most training in intelligence. Given the investigation, it was unlikely that anyone in the intelligence community would offer the rest of the team training. But Nic could tap those three to give the rest of them a refresher.
Except he didn’t have three, he reminded himself as his heart gave a heavy thud in chest. He was down to two. Just as the team was down to eleven.
Because they’d lost Powers.
Rubbing his hand over his suddenly aching eyes, Nic tried to push aside the emotion. The minute he returned to duty, the team was embarking on the biggest mission of their careers. The one to save their reputations and take down a covert enemy. He couldn’t lead that mission if he was wallowing in grief.
And maybe a few of them should take some additional law courses. Louden, for sure, maybe Danby and Prescott, too. They had the analytical skill set to see the nuances that could help if this all went south.
Trouble was coming.
Trouble that could take down the team. That could destroy a decade of hard work. It’d damage the reputations of good men who’d devoted their lives to their country. If they failed, a treasonous mastermind would continue undeterred in their destruction of everything men like Nic and his team fought to protect.
Which meant they couldn’t lose.
He never lost.
With one last glance at the moon riding over the sea, Nic rubbed his hand over his vacation goatee and headed back inside.
Damn.
Looked like he had the beginning of a solid battle plan.
As usual, Cree was right. All Nic needed was a little time, a little distance, and he’d get his head together. He’d use the rest of this week to map out his strategy, to think through the steps and to consider every obstacle and counterstrategy.
As Nic crossed to the bed, he noted the woman sprawled over his sheets. Her dark hair spiked around her face, the sharp angles softened in sleep. The sapphire comforter
