Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)

“And you need breakfast. Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

He clicked off, and Elizabeth stared down at her phone.

“Hot date?”

She glanced at Lauren. “A friend dropped by. He’s from Houston,” she added, as if that explained it.

“A breakfast booty call.” Lauren grinned. “You go, girl.”

“It’s not a booty call, it’s pancakes.”

“Yeah, right.” She started toward the hotel.

“You want to come?”

“No way.” She gave her a wave over her shoulder.

Elizabeth glanced at the IHOP and then at her hotel room. She should shower first, but . . . what if he showed up at her door and wanted to wait? The idea of being in a steamy shower with him anywhere near her was impossible. She didn’t trust herself.

She walked to the IHOP and ducked into the ladies’ room to clean up before venturing into the dining area. It wasn’t hard to spot him. All she had to do was follow the wistful looks of the waitresses milling near the kitchen.

She slid into the booth. “How’d you find me?”

He smiled. “You told me where you were staying.”

“I said ‘Home Suites.’ There are probably half a dozen here.”

“Yeah, and this one’s by your office. I told you, Liz, don’t underestimate us spec ops guys. We’re not as dumb as we look.”

She perused the menu, trying to get her heart rate under control. She was still winded. And maybe a little flustered from sitting across the table from a ridiculously hot guy wearing jeans and cowboy boots. He could have been a Levi’s ad.

“Didn’t know you were a runner,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“Looked pretty good to me.”

“I nearly keeled over on mile two.” She glanced up. “Don’t laugh. Running’s never been my thing.”

But he was grinning at her as the waitress stopped by and flashed him a smile.

“What can I get y’all?”

He nodded at Elizabeth.

“I’ll have the short stack with sausage links. And coffee.”

“And you?” She looked at Derek.

“Coffee.”

“That’s it?” The waitress’s overplucked eyebrows tipped up.

“That’s it.”

When she was gone, Elizabeth looked at him. “I thought you wanted breakfast?”

“That’s for you. I already ate.”

“It’s seven thirty.”

“SEALs are early risers.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “We get up and hit it.”

Her cheeks heated as she thought of Lauren’s booty call comment. She looked away.

“Okay, now what?” she asked. “You’ve stalked me across four states. I assume there’s a reason.”

He smiled. “I’m not stalking you.”

“No?”

“I’m trying to keep tabs on your case.”

She shifted in her seat.

“Hey.” His smile disappeared. “You know that, right? If I’m honestly making you uncomfortable, say the word.”

She looked him over. He was serious. He didn’t want her to think he was some pervert.

And he made her a lot of things but not uncomfortable. Nervous, maybe. Lustful, yes. Sometimes even a little stupid. But not uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine.” She sighed. “I get it. You’re interested in the investigation.”

“That’s right. And hey, if you decide to take me back to your hotel room to rock my world, that works, too.”

She folded her arms over her chest as the waitress dropped off mugs.

“Relax, I’m kidding.” He sipped his coffee. “I just wanted to check in, touch base. See how things are going.”

“Things are going fine, but I can’t discuss details with you.”

“Fine, as in you located Rasheed? Identified his target? What?”

“You know, you have this exasperating way of not listening to what I say. I can’t talk about it. It’s like you with your missions.”

“You know all about my mission,” he countered. “You were in the meeting, back at Coronado.”

“Sure, one mission. It’s part of my case.”

“Exactly. My team’s part of this case. I’m just trying to get an update.”

He made it sound logical, although she knew it wasn’t. But she was tired of arguing with him. She glanced at her watch. She only had fifteen minutes left before she had to get back, so she couldn’t give him more than an overview, anyway.

“We have not located Rasheed,” she admitted. “We also have not identified the target.”

“Have you narrowed it down?”

She paused. “Somewhat.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we have some possible leads we’re investigating but nothing that’s been substantiated.”

“So basically, you have nothing.”

She didn’t answer, which she figured was answer enough.

Derek shook his head.

“We’re working on it.”

More head shaking.

“We’ve got some of our best people down here—”

“Straight answer, Liz. Have you even narrowed it down to Houston?”

The waitress was back with a heaping plate of food, and Elizabeth suddenly felt self-conscious. But then hunger overpowered her vanity, and she dug in.

He watched her intently as she swallowed a bite of sausage. “No.”

His jaw twitched. He glanced out the window and then looked at her. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

Her guard went up.

“You deliver me some intel, I deliver you your terrorist.”

She stared at him. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said? You’re not part of this investigation.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Derek—”

“I became part of it the second my boots hit that rooftop in Asadabad.”

No, the second his teammate got killed. This was about payback for Sean Harper, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“Listen, I understand you want to help, but—”

“Hear me out, okay? And then you can lecture.” He gave her a long look. “I graduated from BUD/S not long after 9/11. You know what I spent my first four tours of duty doing?”

She waited. But it became clear he wanted an answer. “I don’t know,” she said. “Looking for Osama bin Laden?”

“Every guy over there was looking for bin Laden. But do you know what I actually spent my time doing?”

“What?”

“Assaulting cave complexes. Afghanistan has more than a hundred fifty thousand square miles of mountains. That’s miles of cave complexes and some of the most treacherous terrain in the world. We’d get a name and a scrap of intel, and it was like go.” He snapped his fingers. “Over and over again, our mission was to find a needle in a haystack. And we did it.”

He leaned closer. “I can find this guy in Houston. Hell, I can find him in Texas.”

She didn’t respond.

“Just give me what you have. A license plate, a phone number, an address. Give me some scrap of something about this tango or someone you even think might be helping him, and I’ll turn it into a lead and track him down.”

His confidence was mind-boggling. She would have laughed if he hadn’t looked so stone-faced.

“You’re serious.”

He nodded.

“We’ve got an entire task force looking for this guy. What makes you think you can find him?”

“I’m better.”

She shook her head. “Even if I wanted to involve you, which I don’t, for about a dozen reasons, including that I could get fired—”

“What’s more important? The lives of innocent people or your job?”

“Hey.” She pointed her fork at him. “That’s a cheap shot. Of course I care about innocent people, but I can’t very well help them if I lose my job, can I?” She picked at her pancakes and tamped down her annoyance. “Even if I wanted to give you some magic bit of intel, the fact is, we don’t have any.”

“Not true.”

“You’re trying to tell me about my case?”

“You have more than you realize,” he said. “Come on, think about it. Think about Del Rio.”

“What about Del Rio?”

“Buck’s Truck Stop.”

She frowned. “How did you know that?”

“Common sense. It’s the busiest place in the town. Best candidate as a hub of human trafficking. And ICE knows that, too. Am I right?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying look at the place. Get out a Google map and study it. Better yet, go visit. The town has got to be wall-to-wall with security cams, a lot of them privately owned, some of them not. You’ve got fast-food restaurants, gas stations—”

Laura Griffin's books