The SEAL's Second Chance: An Alpha Ops Novella by Anne Calhoun

with her hands on their shoulders and a smile on her face.
    “We’re on for the meet at the Met tonight,” Ian said, his voice low. “You remember what she looks like?”
    “Yeah,” Jamie said again, somewhat absently. He’d had eyes only for Charlie when they were kids, but Eve Webber was an unforgettable girl. He had no doubt she’d grown into an unforgettable woman. They’d known her peripherally because her brother had been a basketball star, gone on to play for Duke, turned down a shot at the pros to go to law school. “We’ve got this. Relax.”
    “I’ll relax when it’s over,” Ian said.
    “I thought she’d agreed to be an informant. Don’t you trust her?” Jamie asked. He could barely hear his brother over the organized chaos of balls bouncing, whistles blowing, and coaches talking. Parents chattered quietly on the bleachers, and younger kids ran along the sidelines playing an impromptu game of hide and seek. No one could overhear them.
    “I trust her as much as I trust anyone,” Ian said.
    Jamie snorted.
    “It’s not just that. Talk on the street is there’s a hit out on her.”
    Jamie’s head swiveled to look at Ian. “On Eve?”
    “Yeah.”
    “We’ve got this, Ian.” His brother was a good cop, which meant he paid attention to his instincts, had a healthy dose of paranoia, and didn’t let down his guard. This was Ian’s op. All Jamie had to do was follow orders, and try not to think about should-have, could-have, would-have. Or Charlie in that deep pink dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, in those killer heels.
    Ian’s phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen, then said, “I’ve got to take this. I’ll meet you at the car. We’ve got more boxes to go through.”
    “Catch you later,” Jamie said.
    Charlie blew her whistle and the kids all dropped down to sit on their basketballs. “Sharks and minnows!” she called out. “Who wants to be my sharks?”
    Eight hands shot into the air. Charlie picked out a smaller boy and a tall, talented girl while her assistants herded the other kids into a line against the far wall. The goal of the game was for the minnows, lined up against the wall, to dribble to the other wall while the sharks, also dribbling, tried to tag them. Kids were ducking and weaving away from each other, with varying levels of ball control, some bouncing the balls off their feet while others had an instinctive awareness of the ball’s relationship to their bodies, but all with big grins on their faces.
    “Dribble low, bend your knees, get your backsides out,” Charlie called out, her tone firm but encouraging. “You’re reaching. Don’t reach!”
    They played a short game, the coaches guiding kids into a basic zone defense to protect the four corners of their “house” while the opposing team tried to get open. Only a couple of kids scored, but they seemed to be getting the idea. When the practice ended, Charlie called them all in and held out her hand for all the kids and assistant coaches to pile on. “On three, basketball. One, two, three!”
    “Basketball!” the kids chorused.
    “Have fun out there!” Charlie said, then caught Jamie’s eye. He smiled at her, waiting until the parents collected their offspring.
    “You want us to raise the hoops, Coach?” Grace called to Charlie.
    “Yes, please,” Charlie said. “They’ve got open gym all afternoon.”
    Flashing covert glances at them, the girls got the poles used to raise and lower the hoops.
    “Hey,” Jamie said.
    “Hi,” Charlie responded. “What are you doing here?”
    He gave her a look, just a look, enough to make her blush. “Okay,” she said. “Dumb question.”
    “Lunch?” he asked.
    “Nope,” she said lightly, and held out her hand. He automatically looked down at her fingers, strong and tough from a lifetime on the court. Three fingers had hangnails. “I’m getting a mani-pedi, remember?”
    He smiled. “It’s not a root canal.”
    “Have you ever gotten