Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(7)

Derek hated losing, whether it was a baseball game or a bet or a woman, and the idea of losing to a bunch of Marines was pretty much intolerable. It propelled him forward as he peered through the murky water and skimmed his fingers over the ship’s skin.

He hit pay dirt.

His pulse spiked as his hands moved over the familiar shape. He tugged the line to signal Luke, who took one look at Derek’s discovery and gave him a thumbs-up.

It was exactly what they’d expected: a basic limpet mine attached by magnet and rigged with a timer. As the designated EOD tech, Derek took the lead in disarming the mock explosive and detaching it from the ship. His teammates swam over, lured by some invisible force, like dolphins communicating underwater.

Mike tapped his watch. Tick-tock. Besides the Marines, they were up against their commander’s stopwatch, and if the mission wasn’t accomplished within the time limit, every one of them was rowing home.

Derek handed off the mine to Mike, their fastest swimmer. He took off like a torpedo.

Derek followed, feeling uneasy without knowing why. One limpet. He’d found it. Based on the size, it could tear a pretty good hole in the ship. But it couldn’t bring her down, and that bothered him.

A sharp tug. Luke materialized in the shadows. Derek swam over and saw what had captured his attention: a second device illuminated in the glow of Luke’s attack board. They traded looks. This was classic Hallenback.

One is none, and two is one. It was what their CO always said right before telling his EOD guys to back up their charges in case something went wrong, which had a tendency to happen in the heat of battle.

He and Luke made quick work of the second device. Derek checked his watch. Eighteen seconds.

Cradling the limpet like a football, Derek kicked and swam for all he was worth, breaking the surface just in time to hear a cheer going up from the Marines’ boat. He glanced at his teammates bobbing glumly in the water.

Hallenback stood on the dock, arms crossed. Derek held up the second mine. A smile spread over the CO’s face, and he shot his rival a look.

Derek shoved his mask up and swam over to the bulkhead, where Cole gleefully took the prize off his hands and held it up like a trophy.

“Hey, girls, you missed one!”

A chorus of barks went up from the SEALs. They leaped and cannonballed off the dock and converged on the pontoon. Surrounded by jeers and insults, the Marines unassed the boat. Derek heaved himself aboard and pulled off his fins. One of the jarheads had a few choice words about Derek’s mom. Derek grinned and threw him an oar.

It was a nice ride back, considering. There was a moderate wind out of the west, a chop in the bay. He glanced up at the night sky, still feeling a little strange about being home after so many months away.

“Nice save.” Mike sank onto the metal seat beside him. “We owe you a beer. You going to O’Malley’s?”

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know? We haven’t been there in freaking forever.” His gaze narrowed. “What’re you, sick?”

Always the medic.

“I’m pretty beat.”

Mike smiled slyly. “So make it an early night.”

They pulled up to the dock and briskly secured the boat, everyone energized by the prospect of a well-earned night off. Derek shouldered his gear and trekked back to the team building. He wanted a hot shower and a cold beer. And sex. That would probably help, too. But the thought of all the bullshit small talk it would take to get him there made his head pound.

“Yo, Vaughn.” Luke walked over, still dripping in his dive suit. “Hallenback wants us at HQ.”

Derek hung his fins in his locker. “What, now?”

“ASAP. As in eighty-six the shower. He said move.”

Derek stashed his gear and traded his dive suit for BDUs. He was jamming his feet into boots when Luke rushed back, also in battle dress uniform. He was still buttoning his shirt.

“Know what it’s about?” Luke asked.

“No idea.”

They double-timed it across the grinder, where a line of recruits was struggling through night PT. Their backs sagged as they performed their umpteenth set of push-ups. One guy was dry-heaving in the grass, and the others looked ready to drop.

A Humvee zipped past them and pulled into a space beside a Lincoln Town Car. Hallenback climbed from the Humvee’s passenger side as the team’s chief petty officer hopped out from behind the wheel.

“We’re in the SCIF room,” the chief informed them.

The Lincoln’s doors opened, and three men in suits piled out.

Make that three men and a woman.

Elizabeth LeBlanc slid from the car, and Derek’s brain stalled. She wore a black suit and heels, and her straw-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He watched her cross the pavement, dimly aware of introductions being made all around him. A second later, she was standing in front of him, watching him with those cool blue eyes.

“. . . Petty Officer Luke Jones,” Hallenback said. “And Lieutenant Derek Vaughn.”

He tore his attention away from her and managed to shake a few hands. He remembered the tall FBI agent, Gordon Moore, from last summer.

Elizabeth offered a handshake. “Lieutenant.”

“Ma’am.”

Her skin was warm and soft. Jesus, how long since he’d touched her? He looked at those pink lips and remembered the honey-sweet taste of her mouth.