Battle with the SEAL (Norse Security 3)

That’s what he was telling himself anyway.

“Right. Let’s go.” He stepped out of the shadows and headed for the entrance to the club. He’d heard of this place from some of his ex-Navy buddies, but he’d never visited himself. Always too busy. He held the door for M then walked in after her, stopped just across the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light.

Stripes Club was a typical military hangout, with memorabilia from all the military branches and various locations of deployment decorating the walls. Neon signs hissed and buzzed from between flat screen TVs flickering with sporting events. A wooden bar ran along one side of the room, with a mirror and shelves of liquor behind it, and booths and tables filled the rest of the space.

There looked to be maybe sixty people in the place, and from what Loki could tell they were having some kind of themed night—if the silly party hats all the patrons were wearing were any indication. As he and M stepped into the club, a momentary hush fell over the assembled and they all turned to look at the new arrivals before resuming their previous activities.

“Let’s start at the bar and see if we can find this Fritz.” M took off across the room, leaving Loki little choice but to follow her. Maybe not saying anything to her about last night had been a mistake. Maybe he should’ve brought it up, just to let her know that he was okay with it all and that he wasn’t expecting more. They reached the bar and squeezed in between two groups of army recruits, based on their uniforms. The place was hopping, leaving few places to sit or stand. The bartender was overworked and currently helping a customer at the other end of the bar.

Loki leaned closer to M and laid his hand on her arm. “Hey, listen. About last night.”

If looks could kill, the affronted stare M gave him would’ve been lethal.

And maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut after all.

“This is not the time,” she said, lips tightening. “Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, okay.” He dropped his hand and inhaled slowly. “Sure. Whatever. I just thought—”

“Stop it. Don’t think about

it anymore. It was a one-time thing and fabulous, but it’s done. Got it?”

His mind snagged on her words, short-circuiting his original response. “You thought it was fabulous?”

M whipped around to face him, her gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips then back again, and damn if he didn’t feel that intense perusal straight in his groin. She opened her mouth to answer, but never got the chance.

“What can I get you folks?” the bartender said, his voice harried.

Loki switched gears fast and flashed his trademark trust-me smile. “We’re looking for someone. A guy named Fritz?”

“That’s me,” the bartender said, his dark eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I think you’re familiar with a friend of ours,” Loki said, lowering his tone. “Todd Martin? Or you may know him as Todavi Marcogonoff.”

The burly bartender’s face paled beneath his shaggy brown beard. His gaze darted around as if looking for an escape route, but there was none to be found. With the crowds and M and Loki so close, they’d have him pinned to the floor or the wall before he took steps.

M reached over and took his wrist, locking him in place. “Tell us what you know and nobody has to get hurt. We just want information about his last drop. What he was trying to sell? Whose intel was involved?”

“Uh, I can’t tell you that.” He tried to back up, but M’s grip kept him where he was. “They’ll kill me.”

“We will too, if you don’t share.” Loki discreetly opened the front of his leather jacket to show the gun holstered at his waist. “Hey. I don’t want to hurt you. It goes against my SEAL code of ethics. But then so does treason. You see my dilemma, yeah?”

“I don’t give a shit about ethics,” M said, her smile turning sinister. “And I’m in the mood to kick some ass tonight. Burn off some frustrations.” She glanced at Loki as she said this last part and fuck if his traitorous cock didn’t twitch like a whore for her again. Man, he had it bad. So bad, and yet so good. “How about you take a break and we go discuss our options in the back room, eh?”

Fritz swallowed hard, the resignation in his eyes stating he knew there was no way out of this. He gave a brief nod then flagged down one of the servers to fill in for him behind the bar while he went in back to grab some new stock.

The trio made their way to the end of the bar, M never breaking her hold on the guy’s arm and Loki playing lookout, in case one of the patrons decided to take offense to them roughing up their bartender. No one seemed to notice, though, as they disappeared into the stock room with Fritz. Loki locked the door behind them then crossed his arms.

“I swear I don’t know what the hell Martin’s got on those disks he gives me to pass on. I just do like he says and he promises to leave my family alone.” Fritz caved like a wet paper bag once M advanced on him and bent his fingers backward almost to the point of breaking. “Please, you have to believe me. I could tell he was Russian by his accent, but I didn’t know he was KGB. I swear.”

M pushed harder on his fingers and Fritz yelped in distress.

Loki exhaled slowly, then began to pace the tiny space, one bare bulb hanging down in the center of the room. Shelves of stock lined the walls and the air smelled of liquor and dust. He kept his gaze locked on Fritz. “When did he last come here to make a drop?”

“Yesterday,” Fritz said, wincing and panting as M held his fingers firm in their awkward position. “Yesterday morning, about ten a.m. He gave me two hard-drives to send to the normal address we always use.”

“And where’s that?” M kicked him hard in the shin. “I don’t like this, Loki. He’s spilling his guts too easily. I think he’s lying.”