Enemy Infiltration

She’d lost her brother.

Can a jaded Delta Force soldier help her find out why?

Strong-willed Lana Moreno won’t rest until she finds out the truth about her heroic brother’s death. And neither will Logan Hess, whose covert government mission soon becomes entwined with another goal: protecting Lana. On Logan’s Texas ranch, these unlikely partners are fighting to understand what really happened overseas while sparks ignite between them. But their investigation quickly provokes a firestorm of consequences—and attention from all the wrong people.

CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Also by Carol Ericson

Her Alibi

Delta Force Defender

Delta Force Daddy

Delta Force Die Hard

Locked, Loaded and SEALed

Alpha Bravo SEAL

Bullseye: SEAL

Point Blank SEAL

Secured by the SEAL

Bulletproof SEAL

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Enemy Infiltration

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09447-4

ENEMY INFILTRATION

© 2019 Carol Ericson

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Prologue

He grabbed the barrel of the old Kalashnikov as he took his place around the fire and yanked it away from him and toward the wall of the hut. “How do you expect me to think with that in my face?”

Rafi, the leader of the group, kicked at a mound of dirt in front of the man hoisting the rifle. “No need for that, Mateen. We’ve taken Major Denver’s weapons from him.”

“He’s Delta Force.” Mateen spit into the dirt. “He could use your shoe as a weapon and you wouldn’t even know it was off your foot.”

The other men around the circle laughed and Denver chuckled along with them. Good to know Delta Force still struck fear in the hearts of enemies and frenemies alike, and Mateen wasn’t too far off the mark with his comment.

Denver crossed his legs beneath him and stretched out his hands to the crackling fire. He winked at Massoud, the boy who’d brought him down from the mountain, now crouched behind his father, Rafi. Massoud offered a shy smile in return, his tough-guy bravado no longer necessary in the company of men.

One of the men began handing around earthenware bowls of lamb stew, which Massoud’s mother had been cooking when they’d barged in on her. Denver hadn’t seen the woman since.

He passed two bowls along the circle and claimed the third for his own, cupping his hands around smooth clay to warm them more than anything else. Then he tore off a piece of the flatbread making the rounds and plunged it into the steaming concoction, chock-full of chunks of lamb meat and vegetables.

He blew on the bread, dripping gravy, and then shoved it into his mouth, burning his tongue, anyway. He didn’t care. The warmth and spices in the stew made his nose run, and he didn’t care about that, either.

The other men must’ve been as hungry as he was. For several minutes, the only sounds from the hut with the dirt floor were slurping and chomping as the men gnawed the tough meat with their teeth and sopped up the gravy with the bread.

When he finished, Denver wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and screwed the bowl into the dirt. “Now, tell me everything you know about Pazir and how our meeting was compromised.”

Rafi raised his finger and then snapped. Massoud scurried around the circle, collecting all the bowls. He retreated to a corner and soaked up the dregs of everyone’s stew with the leftover bread he’d snatched from the fire.

A pang of guilt shot through Denver’s now-full stomach. Massoud’s mother hadn’t cooked enough stew for an unexpected gathering like this. The men had eaten Massoud’s dinner and probably his mother’s, as well.

Rafi folded his hands against his belly. “Pazir was foolish, a talker.”

The other men nodded and grunted.

“He told someone about our meeting?”

“He told many someones.” Rafi waved his hand, encompassing the men sitting at the fire. “We all knew about it.”

“Is Pazir still alive?” Denver massaged his temple with two fingers, the smoke in the hut giving him a headache.

“We don’t know.” Rafi shrugged. “When he found out what happened at the meeting place—an Army Ranger killed, one of your Delta Force team members going over the side of a cliff and you taking off—he disappeared.”

“He could be dead.” Denver drew a cross in the dirt and then wiped it out with his fist.

“No body.” One of the other men spoke up. “Al Tariq likes to send messages. No body, no message.”

“If it was Al Tariq who disrupted the meeting. And my Delta Force teammate? Did you hear anything about him?” Denver held his breath. He’d tried to save Asher Knight by pushing him out of the way. His action had spared Knight the bullet, but he’d tumbled over the cliff’s edge instead.

“Don’t know.” Rafi shook his head. “Didn’t hear.”

Denver blew out a breath. The others had heard about the death of the Army Ranger, but not Asher. Maybe that meant he’d made it. “I need to get another meeting with Pazir. Can any of you facilitate that?”

The men exchanged glances around the circle.

One of the men coughed and swirled his hot tea in his cup. “That could be dangerous.”

Another of the men jumped up and tossed the contents of his cup into the fire, which snapped and sizzled. “He’s dangerous. He shouldn’t be here. You should’ve killed him on the mountainside, Massoud.”

“Enough.” Rafi sliced a hand through the air. “Major Denver is the enemy of our enemy. That is enough. Al Tariq has been inciting trouble and violence in the region for over a year now and doing it with secret international support. If Major Denver wants to end that, it’s good enough for me. It should be good enough for all of us.”

A quiet man seated next to Rafi, who hadn’t said a word all night, stood up. “I know someone who can reach Pazir. The man has been working as a driver and translator like Pazir had been, and he might know where he is. He can let him know you survived and want to talk to him.”

“I appreciate that.” Denver bowed his head. “I appreciate all of it.”

Later that night after more tea and a shared hookah, Rafi allowed Denver to bunk down by the fire.

With the rest of the inhabitants asleep in the hut, Denver rolled toward the fire and then away. He stretched out his legs and then brought his knees to his chest.

The smoke had his head pounding again—or maybe it was the spicy lamb stew. He sat up and drew the rough blanket around his shoulders. Then he crept to the doorway of the hut.

He slipped outside to inhale the cold, fresh air. His head jerked as a glimmer of light from the rocks at the bottom of the foothills caught his attention.

He squinted into the darkness and saw a second point of light bobbing next to the first. He grabbed his weapon by the door, hoisted it and peered through the night scope.

Uttering a curse, he tracked the guns bearing down on the village. He’d brought the enemy to their doorstep… Now nobody was safe.

Chapter One

Lana’s brown cowboy boots clumped over the wood floor of her congressman’s office building. As furtive glances followed her, she tipped back her head, nose in the air and took even heavier steps—the louder the better. She wanted to create a stir.

“Miss, excuse me.” The blonde at the front desk half rose from her chair, phone at her ear. “Miss, you can’t go in there.”

Lana spun around, one hand jiggling the locked doorknob, the other on her hip. “Because it’s locked or because I’m not welcome? I’m a taxpaying constituent.”

“I’m sure you are, but Congressman Cordova is in a meeting right now.” The assistant waved her manicured fingers at a pathetic suggestion box stuck to the wall. “You’re welcome to leave a note.”

“I’ve left notes. I’ve left voice mails. I’ve left emails.” Lana leveled a finger at the blond gatekeeper. “I’m pretty sure I’ve spoken to you on a number of occasions, and Congressman Cordova—” the name rolled off Lana’s tongue in a perfect Spanish accent “—has yet to return my notes, voice mails or emails. Excuse me if I have a hard time believing he’s going to check his suggestion box. I have a suggestion. Tell him to open this damned door and meet with one of his constituents.”

The assistant plopped back down in her chair, swiveled away from Lana and whispered into the phone. She put down the receiver and cleared her throat. “If you’d like to leave your name and number, the congressman will call when he’s free.”

“When will that be? Never?” Lana twisted the doorknob and kicked the door with the toe of her boot. “Open the door, or you’ll be sorry, Cordova.”

The woman at the desk grabbed the phone again and held up the receiver, shaking it at Lana. “Miss, if you don’t leave at once, I’m calling security.”

“Do it.” Lana leaned against the impenetrable door and folded her arms across her chest. “This will play well.”

The blonde’s cool exterior and her voice finally cracked as she shouted into the phone, “Someone needs to get over here, right away.”

Before the final word left her lips, two security guards charged through the side door of the building. Cordova’s office only gave the illusion of his approachability. Barriers and layers protected him from the common people just as surely as they had protected a czar from his serfs.

As the two goons veered in her direction, Lana thrust out her hands. “I’m not going anywhere until I talk to my congressman. I pay his salary—yours, too.”

“Ma’am.” The bigger security guard spread out his hands, which looked like slabs of pink beef. “Go about this the right way. Don’t cause any trouble today.”

“Trouble?” Lana sniffed and blinked her eyes rapidly. She refused to give in to tears here. Did she have any left? “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

The big guy rolled his eyes at his slightly smaller partner and said, “Are you even five feet tall? You’re not going to put up a fight, are you, ma’am?”

Lana widened her stance, the heels of her boots digging into the polished floor. “Five foot two.”

Security guard number two snorted. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the premises, one way or another.”

“How about you leave the premises, and I meet with my congressman.”

“I—I can make an appointment for you with Congressman Cordova.” Cordova’s assistant swung her chair in front of her computer, her hands poised over the keyboard. “He’s free tomorrow at three o’clock. Will that work for you?”

“Hmm.” Lana tapped a finger against her chin as she tilted her head to the side. “No. Right now works for me.”

The taller, bigger, beefier security guard took a step forward. “Ma’am, this isn’t working for anyone right now. You’re going to have to leave and make an appointment through Tessa later.”

“I don’t want to leave, and Cordova is never going to keep an appointment with me. I’m on his no-call list.” Lana ground her back teeth together.

Tessa’s face blanched, almost matching the color of her hair. As the security duo moved forward with purpose, Tessa shouted, “Wait!”

But the guards had both started speaking at once in coaxing tones as they moved in on Lana, drowning out Tessa’s exclamation.

They each took one of Lana’s arms and peeled her off the congressman’s door. They started to march her toward the front entrance, the one facing the sidewalk, the one facing the public.

Tessa had jumped from her seat, the chair banging against the wall behind her. “What’s your name? What’s your name?”

Lana cranked her head over her shoulder and smiled at Tessa, her pale face now crumpled with worry. “Lana. Lana Moreno.”

“Wait…don’t.” Tessa scurried around the desk, banging her hip on the corner.

The security guards had embraced their mission and continued propelling Lana to the exit—flipping the congressman from the frying pan into the fire.

The three of them burst through the double doors into the wintry Greenvale sun, straight into the arms of the media Lana had called earlier.

Cameras zoomed in and microphones materialized out of thin air.

“Did Congressman Cordova kick you out of his office, Lana?”

“Did he have any answers for you?”

“Do you think this shows his disdain for the military?”

Both of the security guards dropped her arms so fast and at the same time, she listed to the side. The shorter guy growled. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a news conference, which never would’ve happened had Cordova agreed to meet with me.”

She brushed off the sleeves of her brown suede jacket, tugged on its lapels and stepped in front of a microphone. “Yes, Congressman Luis Cordova refused to meet with me, and he’s refused to answer any of my emails. You can make your own determination whether or not that shows disrespect for our military as he continues to cover up the circumstances behind the deaths of three marines in Nigeria.”

“Ms. Moreno.” The congressman magically appeared in the doorway behind her, his unctuous tone, as smooth as oil, swirling through the chaos on the sidewalk. “I was just finishing up with my meeting when I heard the commotion. I told my assistant to clear all my calls immediately. Come back into my office with me. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”

Lana nodded, backed away from the mic and swept past the two security guards, now trying to keep the reporters from following her and the congressman.

Five minutes later, ensconced in a deep leather chair across from Congressman Cordova, a glass of water in front of her, Lana took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I had to resort to those means, but you wouldn’t acknowledge any of my communications.”

Cordova swept a hand over the top of his head, slicking his salt-and-pepper hair back from his forehead. “You saw the report, Ms. Moreno. There’s no mystery, no cover-up. Your brother and the other marines were attacked outside the embassy outpost by a band of marauding criminals. Nigeria can be a lawless place, especially away from the big cities.”

“Really?” She crossed one leg over the other and took a sip of water. “What was the U.S. Government doing in that particular area of Nigeria?”

“That is classified information. Your brother didn’t even know what they were doing there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She drummed her fingers on his desk. “I’m waiting for the Marine Corps to ship his belongings to me. They could even arrive as early as this afternoon. Gil always kept a journal. I can’t wait to read what he wrote in that journal.”

“I’m sure it will be a great comfort to you, Ms. Moreno. Lo siento por su perdida.” He steepled his fingers and bowed his head.

Tears stung her nose. “I don’t need you to be sorry for my loss. I need you to use your position on the House Foreign Affairs Committee to open up an investigation of what went down at that embassy outpost—a real investigation.”

“The Committee has no reason to believe anything other than the initial report, a report I went out of my way to send you, by the way.”

Uncrossing her legs, she hunched forward, the ends of her long hair sweeping the glossy surface of his desk. “A report so heavily redacted, I could barely read it through the black lines.”

“A necessity, but I’m sure you got the gist of the information. A marauding band of…”

“Criminals.” She smacked her fist on the desk, causing the pens in the holder to dance. “I’ve heard that line a million times. It’s a solid talking point, but why would common criminals attack a U.S. Embassy outpost? Do you think they were trying to steal computers? Watches off the embassy staff? Cushions from the pool furniture?”

“They’re criminals.” Cordova’s left eyebrow twitched. “I suppose they’re going to steal whatever they can.”

“Why choose a building guarded by U.S. Marines? And why do common criminals in Nigeria have RPGs?”

The congressman shot up in his chair. “Where did you get that information?”

“It wasn’t from the watered-down report you sent me.”

“Ms. Moreno, Lana—” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath “—I truly am sorry for the loss of your brother. He was a hero.”

“He was a hero for getting murdered during a common robbery?”

“He was a hero for serving his country honorably, and I’m going to look into the possibility of naming a park…or something after him in our home town of Greenvale.”

“A baseball field.” Lana gazed at the pictures of Cordova’s family that graced the wall behind him—his son in his baseball uniform and his daughter in a ballerina tutu. “Gil loved baseball and was a great player. He could’ve played some ball in college or the minor leagues, but he chose to enlist instead.”

“Like I said, a true local hero.”

Her eyes snapped back to Cordova’s face. “He was a hero because he and his brothers in arms tried to protect that outpost from a planned attack. Whatever was going on there required more than three marines to guard it, and they deserved backup, a response from other military in the area. I know about that, too.”

“I’m afraid the Committee is not going to open up an investigation based on some half-truths you learned from some anonymous source and your brother’s journal that you haven’t even read yet.” Cordova’s jawline hardened. “I’ve given you all the time I have today, Ms. Moreno, and you can run to the press all you like and paint me as the bad guy, but there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

She pushed out of the chair, her legs like lead beneath her, all the fight drained from her body. She automatically extended her hand across the desk. “Thank you for seeing me.”

The congressman’s face brightened as he squeezed her hand. “Anytime, Ms. Moreno, but make an appointment with Tessa next time and come alone.”

“I will.” When he released her hand, she avoided the temptation to wipe it on the seat of her jeans.

He circled around his desk and showed her out of his office door, a big smile on his face in case a camera or two lurked in the waiting room.

As she walked toward the exit, her knees weak and trembling, she nodded to Tessa behind her desk, clutching the edge, looking ready to bolt.

When Lana reached the door, Cordova called after her. “A baseball field, the Gil Moreno Field. I’ll get right on it.”

“Gilbert.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Gilbert Moreno Baseball Field.” She twisted the handle and bumped the door with her hip, pushing through the double doors.

The cold air slapped her face when she stepped onto the empty sidewalk and her nose started running. She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned the corner of Cordova’s office, which occupied the end spot of a newer strip mall. He probably had nicer digs in DC.

Dragging her hand along the stucco wall of the building, she meandered toward the back alley. She couldn’t do this anymore. She had nothing. She was going to fail her little brother when he needed her most.

She did a half turn and propped her shoulders against the wall, but her meeting with Cordova had sapped all her strength. Her knees giving out on her, she slid down the wall, the suede of her jacket scraping the stucco.

She ended in a crouch, dipping her head, the tears flowing freely down her face. “I’m sorry, Gil. You deserve so much more than a baseball field. You deserve the truth.”

A footstep crunched beside her and she jerked up her head. A tall figure loomed over her, the sunlight creating a bright aura around the stranger’s head.

Slowly he crouched before her, caught one of her tears as it dripped from her chin and said, “The truth just might get you killed, Lana.”

Chapter Two

The raven-haired beauty in front of him dashed the back of her hand across her runny nose and smeared a streak of black mascara toward her ear, where a row of silver studs pierced the curve.