Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(109)

A snort greeted that complaint.

“Your English is showing.” There was a distinct sneer in the American’s voice.

Eric bit back his retort. Like most Americans of his acquaintance, Coulson was far too proud of his heritage and country. “What do you want?”

“You know, I can actually tell you come from stiff-lipped, upper-crust, pansy-assed aristocracy this morning. Most of the time your accent is so subtle it’s barely there.”

“What do you want?” Eric measured the words out, ignoring the comment about his speech.

The lack of an accent had been deliberate and hard won. A universal accent meant universal acceptance. One could avoid the stereotypical stranger suspicion if one sounded like the people you were conversing with.

A pause sounded and then Coulson continued. “We’ve had an interesting development arise.”

Eric waited. Bloody hell, the man liked to drag things out.

“Our friendly SEALs showed up at our San Jose facility.”

Eric jackknifed up against the headboard. “The hell you say! How did they connect that property to us?”

“No idea. But they were there, and they weren’t alone. A Shadow Mountain team was with them.”

Eric stopped breathing. Literally. “They’ve teamed up with Shadow Mountain?”

“Apparently so.” But anticipation throbbed in Coulson’s voice, rather than foreboding.

What the hell did Coulson know that he didn’t? Shadow Mountain was no bloody joke. The council didn’t know much about their old enemies other than they hailed from a place called Shadow Mountain and for every step the council took to shove their agenda forward, those damn Indians managed a counterstep to shove the agenda back. For decades they’d been caught in this frustrating dance of one step forward and then one step back.

“What did they get?” He ran stiff fingers through his hair. They’d been rebuilding the prototype at that facility. It had been borderline operational. To lose it now, so close to the finish line . . .

Bloody hell . . .

It would set their time line back by months.

“Nothing,” Coulson said, satisfaction thick in his voice. “They got absolutely nothing. I shut the facility down last night. Took the generator with me when I left. Three of my crew stayed behind to grab the research and rig the lab. Those bastards didn’t have a chance to take anything before the building blew.”

Eric slumped, his heart rate settling. This was news. Good news. “You have the prototype?”

“I do. It’s been rerouted to our friends at Dynamic Solutions. Link’s putting together a new team. One that won’t have a problem with the device’s . . . repurposing.”

“What about those damn SEALs? I don’t suppose the blast took care of that problem.” But there wasn’t much hope in his voice because Coulson would have led with that news.

“No such luck,” Coulson said.

“What about your team at San Jose?” Eric asked slowly, although there was little doubt the scientists were dead. Coulson wouldn’t have accepted anything less.

“The bastards produced the prototype, but they refused to accept the repurposing, so I gave them all pink slips,” Coulson said, a hint of gloating in his voice.

As though the deaths of six of the world’s top minds were something to celebrate. Eric forced back a wave of repugnance. In war, one allied oneself with men who served the greater goal—regardless of whether one liked or respected them. As a child, it was the first lesson he’d learned at his parents’ table.

“So we’re still on schedule?” Eric asked, relaxing. This had to be one of the few times a Shadow Mountain attack hadn’t set them back by months, if not years.

“We are.”

“Are you certain Mackenzie and his men were with them?” Eric asked.

How would they have even connected? Those damn Indians were secretive as hell.

“Positive. They were caught on the cameras.” Coulson laughed, that earlier hint of gloating back in his voice. “They scrambled the regular camera feeds. But those new cameras Link sent us worked perfectly. Not even a twitch in the broadcast. Those bastards, all of them, were plain as day.” He paused, and for the first time, a disgruntled tone entered his voice. “Too bad they didn’t arrive a bit later. Like when the place went boom.”

Eric rolled his eyes. Of course the bloody sod would go and blow up a perfectly good building. He was far too explosives happy in Eric’s opinion.

“Well, we know who Mackenzie and his crew have hooked up with now,” Eric said.

That at least was something.

And then it occurred to him what else they knew. He froze, pure exhilaration flashing through him.

“Amy Chastain and her children were picked up by a helicopter. In light of this new information, we can assume Shadow Mountain provided that chopper, along with a safe haven,” Eric said, his brows knitting.

They’d undoubtedly provided the ground crew as well, which explained why his contractors had been defeated so easily. The SEALs were bad enough. But bloody hell, once you factored in those damnable Shadow Mountain warriors, the odds increased a billionfold against . . . well, anyone.

“That would be a fair assumption, considering that the SEALs were working with them last night,” Coulson agreed. Judging by his satisfaction, he knew exactly where Eric was going with this.