Tate folded his arms in front of him and mimicked her stance. “Maybe I wasn’t a SEAL,” he suggested calmly. “If it’s not in my records, it didn’t happen.”
“Bullshit.” She glared back at him. “You went through BUD/s training, SQT and you got your SEAL Trident. After that, it’s like you disappeared, except for the notations that you were a Special Forces officer with an exemplary record. You left because you were injured in the line of duty, but the mission was highly classified. What kind of mission is classified for an FBI agent?”
“The kind that doesn’t exist to almost anybody in the government,” he explained casually. “And I never claimed to be a SEAL. Although I’ll admit that I let anyone who thought so continue to assume that I was. I didn’t have a choice.”
Lara gaped at him. “You were in a top-secret Special Forces team? They recruited you from the SEAL team, didn’t they?”
She’d heard occasional rumors about a kick-ass special operations team that was known to almost no one, even the upper echelon of the FBI. But she’d blown off the continual rumors. His military record made sense to her. It was the only thing that did make sense. If he’d continued on as a Navy SEAL, his record would have reflected it. SEALs weren’t hidden from the FBI. None of the known Special Forces were hidden from the FBI. The only answer was a top-secret team, a team so elite that nobody knew about them except the very top of the food chain in the government. She’d never seen a military file like Tate’s, but it made perfect sense now.
She raised her brow when he didn’t answer, and he just shrugged. “I’d rather hear about you, Special Agent Bailey. Like what in the hell are you doing here? And don’t try to feed me the vacation bullshit. It won’t fly. The only thing I haven’t been able to put together is why you’re here when you’re a counter-terrorist agent. Is there a terrorist hiding out way out here in Rocky Springs?”
“It’s possible,” she hedged.
“Who?”
“I can’t give you that information, Colter. You of all people should understand keeping secrets.”
Tate moved forward and pinned her body against the kitchen cupboard. “Not from me. I grew up here. I live here. And I’m damn sure I have a higher security clearance than you do. You have no reason not to tell me. This is my turf. My brother is a goddamn US Senator. What if he’s a target?” he growled. The fierceness in his eyes glared at her terrifyingly.
“He’s not,” she told him sharply. She could share that much. The last thing she wanted was for him to think his brother Blake was in danger. “And if you’re out of the military, you no longer have clearance.”
Tate looked at her, and spoke as though he picked his words carefully. “I still do. We’ll just say I’m a consultant of sorts now.”
“To who?” There wasn’t a damn thing in his background check to indicate that, but there was never a file like his either. For some reason, most information on Tate Colter was hidden, buried beneath superficial bullshit.
He shrugged.
“Are you still military? What kind of accident did you have?”
He stared at her with an innocent expression. “I broke my leg in a skiing accident.”
Lara rolled her eyes. “Sure you did. The accident is in your file, Colter. It happened while you were on active duty. You left the military because of it. It just doesn’t say what happened.”
“Nobody in my family knows that. I told them all that it happened while I was away skiing in Vail. As far as my family is concerned, it’s not job related. I left Colorado as soon as I had my last surgery just to get away. I found a place in Florida, hung out with a friend there so I didn’t have to keep lying to my family. I didn’t come back here until I was completely healed.”
“I won’t tell.”
“It was the result of a helicopter crash. I was the pilot. If I wasn’t flying it, I’d be dead. We all made it out. But I had to have corrective surgery, pins to put my leg back together,” he said slowly, cautiously.
“Nobody would ever know. You don’t limp.”
Tate shook his head. “I knew. It made me slower. Being slower means getting dead, and possibly causing other members of a team to get hurt or dead, too.”
Holy shit. If Tate Colter was slow now, he would have made her head spin before his accident. “So you gave up your position in Special Forces.”
“I had to. I knew I wasn’t in perfect physical condition.” His voice sounded pained to admit that he wasn’t flawless.
“Did that hurt? To admit you’re human?” she asked him quietly. Special Forces were cocky for a reason. If they didn’t have ultimate faith in their ability to do anything, accomplish any mission, they could very well die if they doubted their abilities. Obviously Tate was able to assess his situation and step down. She admired that ability, and she wasn’t mocking him.
“Damn right it hurt,” he grumbled. “But I don’t want anybody killed because I couldn’t admit that I wasn’t the same as I was before the…accident.”
Lara had a suspicion that the helicopter hadn’t just crashed. It had probably been shot down. But she didn’t bother to ask because he obviously wasn’t going to share the experience. If he’d been involved in some type of top-secret black ops team, he wasn’t going to talk to a virtual stranger about it, even if she was FBI.
We aren’t exactly strangers. We were intimate. Okay…maybe not intimate…maybe I was just a lay for him.
He’d treated her as if she was special, and try as she may, she couldn’t get last night out of her head. He’d dried her off like a treasured woman after they’d left the shower, brushed out her hair, and scooped her up and taken her to bed. She’d been out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, falling asleep with Tate’s body sheltering her protectively.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she murmured, seeing a quick flash of vulnerability in his eyes.
“I had no problem finding out. And I wasn’t angry. You’re an agent. That’s not something you go around telling everyone. I know what it’s like to need to hide certain parts of your life.” He paused for a moment and speared his fingers through her hair. He tilted her head up and searched her face before he added, “It’s lonely.”