that he could resurface alive before the Navy processed him out of a job.
“We’re here,” Tracie said as the limo slid up beside the curb in front of what appeared to be a three-star hotel only a few blocks from the airport. “The driver will remain nearby in case we need him on short notice.”
Rip nodded and glanced at the hotel. “Once inside, who do we ask for?”
“We don’t. We check in as newlyweds.” Tracie glanced his way. “You’ll need your driver’s license and credit card. Our guy is in room 627. We’ll make our way up to his room after we check in.”
Rip pulled out the wallet Hank had provided and familiarized himself with the contents and his new name. Chuck Gideon. “Who came up with the name?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.” Rip got out, rounded the vehicle and beat the chauffeur to opening Tracie’s door. “Mrs. Gideon, shall we get a room?” He winked and smiled.
Tracie’s eyes narrowed slightly and she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet on the pavement.
His fingers tingled where they touched hers, but Rip schooled his expression, determined to give no indication that Tracie had any effect on him.
As soon as she was on her feet, she let go of his hand.
Not to be deterred, and using their married status as an excuse, he rested his hand at the small of her back. A slight tremor shook her body. Inside the lobby of the hotel, Rip adopted his role. “We’d like a room for the night.”
“Just a moment, sir.” The hotel manager’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “We have one suite left on the seventh floor.”
“Perfect,” Tracie smiled. “We’ll take it.”
Rip grinned at the manager. “She can’t wait to get me alone.” He held up her left hand, displaying the diamond ring and wedding band on her finger. Then he held up his left hand, displaying a matching wedding band. “Newlyweds.”
The manager smiled and handed them two key cards. “Congratulations.”
“Let’s wait to get the luggage until we’ve seen the room,” Tracie said, with a flirty bat of her eyelashes.
Though Rip knew it was all part of the act, it didn’t stop his pulse from leaping and his blood from thrumming hot through his veins. They stepped into the elevator. Before the door closed, Rip pulled Tracie into his arms and kissed her soundly.
The elevator doors slid shut and Tracie pushed him away, straightening her dress unnecessarily, her hands shaking. “We don’t want to look overeager.”
“Don’t you think newlyweds are anxious to get to their hotel room?”
Tracie shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, never having been a newlywed.” Her words were tight and it was as if a shutter descended over her green eyes.
“Well, I guess that answers one question.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
He smiled, liking that he’d shaken her with his kiss. “You’ve never been married. So you’re not married now.”
Turning her back to him, she said, “What does it matter?”
“I would think it would matter a little since we just kissed.”
“All part of our cover. It didn’t mean anything.”
“If you were married, wouldn’t you hope that your husband would be a little jealous of the man kissing his wife?”
“I would hope he’d understand it’s part of the job. Not that I’m getting married anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not convinced marriage is all that great.”
Having been a SEAL for seven years, Rip had much the same perspective, though he’d never voiced his opinion on the institution. Tracie made him reconsider his own stand on matrimony. “I think marriage is okay for some.”
Tracie’s lips twisted as she glanced up at him. “But not you?”
He countered with raised brows. “Or you?”
“Marriage is hard enough when the two parties involved live under the same roof all year long. My jobs in the FBI and now on Hank’s team have kept me moving. I don’t have the time or the inclination to set down roots.”
The door opened on the seventh floor. Rip took the lead, turning toward the stairwell instead of the room the hotel manager had assigned them. Tracie was right behind him.
He hurried down the stairs checking for security cameras. He’d seen one in the hallway on the seventh floor, but not in the stairwell. One floor down, he opened the door.
Movement captured his attention. Two men were entering the stairwell at the opposite end of the long corridor. The last one through looked over his shoulder at Rip and Tracie before shoving the guy in front of him the rest of the way through the door and crowding in behind him.
“Damn.” Tracie ducked past Rip and ran for room 627. The doorjamb was splintered and the door stood ajar. Tracie pulled a pistol from her purse and shouldered her way inside, gun pointed.
Rip dragged the HK .40 from the holster beneath his shirt and rushed in after Tracie.
“Franks is dead.” Tracie turned toward him. “Whoever did it got away.”
“The two in the stairwell.” Rip ran back to the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time, jumping over the railing as the staircase made a turn. He landed and repeated the process until he hit the ground floor where he burst through the doorway. As dark sedan rushed by, one of its windows lowered and the barrel of a pistol jutted out.
Rip threw himself to the ground as the sharp report of gunfire blasted the air. He rolled beneath a truck and out the other side, jumping to his feet. Another shot shattered the truck’s passenger window.
Hunkered low with the body of the truck between him and the fleeing vehicle, Rip sucked in a breath and dared to poke his head over the top of the hood, praying he’d have enough time to get a fix on the license plate of the sedan. Already, it was too far away and getting farther.
Rip ran across the grass, cut through a stand of trees and made it to the street as the getaway vehicle turned onto the main road.
He hammered his pistol’s grip into the driver’s side window, cracking the glass.
The driver cursed, and the vehicle slowed for a second. Tires squealing, it leaped across the crowded roadway, and three other vehicles crashed into each other as the drivers slammed on their brakes.
With the pileup blocking Rip, the killers got away.
Farther away from Tracie and the scene of the crime than he felt comfortable with, Rip jogged back to the hotel, and raced up the six flights of stairs.
Tracie
