Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1) (6 page)

Cooper walked into the bar first, followed by his ever-present sidekick, Fredo. Coop, a farm boy from Nebraska, had graduated the tallest SEAL at over 6’7”. He still looked like he walked around in his overalls, had a loping gait, and needed to duck under every doorway in his path. Raised nowhere near the ocean, Cooper still swam second fastest on the team. Second to Armando. Coop had spent the summer before Indoc learning. Had hired a former Olympic coach who told him he might have had a shot at a medal if he washed out of BUD/S.

Fredo, short and built like a soccer player, which was how he’d spent his youth in LA, took two steps for every one of Cooper’s strides, but beat the giant and almost everyone else at timed runs, either long or short. Best wrestler on the team also went to Fredo. And he liked to cheat, touching a guy someplace he didn’t want to be touched, causing a serious lack of focus and getting the resulting quick take down.

The unlikely pair of friends hunkered down across the table from Kyle. They were served a couple of beers by the new girl with the nice hands. Cooper told Kyle he’d leave his for Gunny. At last Gunny showed up, red-faced, as if he’d been on a bender. He arrived a full fifteen minutes late, and Kyle suspected he’d jogged to make up time, but didn’t have the lung capacity for much of a run.

“Sorry, gents. Got caught up at the gym with a late arrival,” Gunny said as he pointed to a beer.

“Got your name on it, Sarge,” Cooper said.

Gunny downed half of it quickly. Too quickly, Kyle thought. Gunny must be in some pain and had decided to douse it. He noted Gunny might not be much help on this mercy mission.

“Armando’s gone missing.”

“Fuck me. When?” Fredo asked.

“Friday night, maybe Saturday.” Kyle watched as his words sunk in.

“You’re just now fuckin’ telling us?” Fredo’s brow contorted. Prune face, Kyle had said on more than one occasion. But a good question, and one that deserved an answer.

“I wasn’t sure. Thought maybe he was having a little honeymoon, without the ring and the preacher.”

Everyone laughed.

“That would be Armani,” Coop chuckled.

“Timmons asked me to look into it.”

“You try calling him?” Fredo asked. Everyone immediately turned and growled at the Mexican-American SEAL, who shrugged his shoulders and added, “I’m just sayin’.”

“Timmons is waiting for the cell tracking.” Kyle looked at Coop, who had gone alert.

Coop answered. “I definitely can help you there.”

Kyle knew Cooper had done a rotation at the CIA and had some friends there.

“You got the number?”

Kyle handed Armando’s number on a white piece of paper. “No strings. Invisible.”

“Of course.” Cooper frowned. “Probably get it later tonight. I’m gonna make the call now.”

“Thanks.” Kyle watched as the giant SEAL unfolded from the table, stood, and went outside to make the call. Cooper’s huge frame completely blocked sunlight from coming through the doorway of the Scupper.

Two young ladies sauntered past Coop, and they must have looked back at the handsome farm boy because Cooper waved, wiggling his fingers and grinning, with the cell phone clutched to his ear.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Fredo wanted to know.

“First we get the location, and then we get Armando out. Just like the snatch and grabs we did overseas.”

“Sounds cool,” said Fredo.

“Got nothin’ else to do,” said Gunny.

Coop came back. “Take a few hours at the most. My friend in DC will have the coordinates on Armani’s cell—if it’s still on.” He gulped down his water, crushing ice with his molars. “So I suppose now we hurry up and wait?” He dumped a lopsided grin on Kyle.

“Exactly. We’ve got our team. We go when we get the location. Not a breath to anyone but Timmons. No other team guys, you got it?”

They nodded in agreement.

“And you get some rest. Not sure what’s in store, but we gotta be alert and strong and ready to go. Get your gear in order in case we need it. I’ll check back with you boys tomorrow sometime after noon. But be ready to take off as soon as I call.”

He watched them leave behind their unfinished drinks. He hoped his call to action wouldn’t cost them their careers, or their lives.

Chapter 6

Christy knew Simms wasn’t expecting her early, so she slept in. She shaved, oiled her skin after her steamy shower, blow-dried her blond hair, then curled it in ringlets, extra fluffy.

She pulled out her special Lady Parisienne bra with the skin-like padding and silky butterfly stitching. Madame M gave her the delicate garment as a gift when Christy made that thousand-dollar sale to the San Francisco mayor who bought lingerie for his new girlfriend. He had been one of the shop’s regular customers. The mayor liked his girls extra full on top, so Madame M always had a fully stocked DD section with nothing but the most expensive lingerie.

She leaned forward and lifted the soft pillows of her breasts into the creamy cups, leaving just enough cleavage to distract the average male. But Kyle wasn’t an average male. She doubted he’d ever seen a woman in a three hundred dollar bra. That part about men she could read like a school primer. Her trouble happened with the after-the-first-date-thing. She decided not to fall too quick for him, even though she already had, and he hadn’t done anything but tie her up on the floor with her hands above her head, lay across her body with his package between her legs, covering her chest with his muscled torso, spreading her legs with the strong muscles of his thighs. And then he gave her flowers and asked for a lunch date.

Pretty unbeatable combination.

Her peach quivered in anticipation as she slipped the satin and lace matching panties over her hips and centered the small frilly triangle in front. She applied her makeup with patience and skill, thinking about kissing him, wondering what the feel of his tongue would be like opening her lips and plunging in to play with hers. She imagined what those strong hands could do around her waist, then sliding down the front of her abdomen into her panties.

She sprayed perfume in the air and walked through it, coating her flesh with scent. She was a lethal combination of female determination and need. She would make him pay for yesterday’s transgression. She’d make him beg, and then she’d decide what to do next. Logic told her she should hold out and not let him touch her. But her heart and her body craved the caress of the man with three-toed footprints running up his muscled arm.

After she finished dressing, she drove her Honda into the office parking lot. Sounds of sea birds and a foghorn in the distance reminded her the ocean was not far. It never got hot in San Diego. The moist late morning air caressed her cheeks. She turned and found him leaning against a shiny black Hummer, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed as well. He’d been watching her get out of the car. She hoped she’d been graceful.

A slight smile lit up his face. She tweeted her car closed, slung her purse over her right shoulder, and walked straight for him without taking her eyes from his. He made no apology for watching every moving body part she had, including her mouth, when she stopped in front of him and licked her lips.

So far so good.

Something registered on his face. A loneliness and hunger resided inside his vacant eyes, something dead and now coming back to life. He appeared so confident, so well trained and measured. Probably he’d learned to cut off his soft side from his survival side.

She had a sudden urge to soften him.

Where did that come from?

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said. One eye twitched. His long dark lashes, thick and shiny, outlined the blue gaze he leveled at her. It almost made her faint. Her ears buzzed and her stomach lurched.

“I promised you lunch,” she answered. “I keep my promises. Always.”

“So do I.”

His masculine cologne wafted toward her. Erotic goose bumps slipped down the front of her blouse like cool fingers touching her white flesh. She felt naked and blushed, looking down.

His chest heaved and then stilled. Had he caught himself reacting to her blush?

A man of control.

She read all the little signs of a man’s arousal. Even without dwelling on the considerable tent in his pants, she knew she turned him on by her fragrance and appearance.

And she loved it.

He assembled all six-foot something of himself and walked around to the passenger side of the Hummer, then opened the door. She bent her left knee, gripping the chrome handle on the doorframe for the high step. He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Here, let’s use this.” He retrieved a white plastic stepstool no larger than a shoebox, bent down, and placed it on the pavement at her feet. He uncoiled his muscled frame less than four inches in front of her and just as slowly let his eyes wander over her body, from her knees all the way up to her chest.

“Better?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

Her knees wobbled, knocking against each other. “Much,” she said as she leaned in, almost brushing against his chest, close enough to feel the heat from his body. She was careful not to make contact, though her insides argued with her willpower.

She step-mounted into the front seat of the vehicle. The black leather groaned. His scent filled the air. Smiling, he handed her the seatbelt, tossed the step into the rear, and slammed the door. Something told her life was about to change—for the good.

Strap in and get ready.

They didn’t talk as he drove down toward the wharf. She focused on the Celtic ring tattoo that peeked below the right sleeve of his T-shirt. Staring at the tattoo helped with the-not-wanting-to-look-at-his-chest-neck-and-Adam’s-apple stuff. And it definitely helped her not focus on his lips.

Does he know I’m sneaking little looks?

Maybe he was used to it. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he didn’t notice. In any case, he never looked back at her.

They walked into a tiny sandwich shop by the water. Holding out her chair, he stood guard as she seated herself, then he leaned against her back and put a palm on her shoulder as she settled in. On his way to take up position across the table from her, Kyle waved at a couple sitting on the opposite side of the room. The other guy sported a series of ringed tattoos on his forearm, too.

Clean place but not fancy, she observed. The menu specialized in seafood sandwiches and soft shell tacos.

“The turkey chili is what they’re known for, even though this is a seafood place,” Kyle said over the top of the paper menu. “But you’d probably like the crab salad sandwich.” His blue eyes flashed on her and a ripple of energy traveled all the way down her spine. He showed perfect white teeth beneath slanted, full lips, which ended with a curl at one side she found so distracting. He had to be fully aware he was turning on the charm.
The Blue Charm.

“I’ve heard about this spot,” Christy said. “A few of the Realtors in my office come here for dinner and drinks after work.”

“Only if they’re single. This place is a real meat market at night,” he replied.

“Well, that never seemed to stop some.” She fanned herself with the menu as she looked out over the bay.

Kyle chuckled. “I’ve never seen Wayne here, not that I would notice. But then, this is a pretty young crowd.”

“Hmm. Exactly. No, this wouldn’t be his kind of place.”

“So, you’re single then, Christy?” He glanced at his water glass.

“Very much so. And enjoying every minute of it.” She’d rehearsed this line in the shower a dozen times just in case it came up. But as she watched him raise his eyes, it sounded ridiculous, but still earned her a smile from his tanned face.

“I catch your drift. I’m the same.” He’d turned serious. Honest. Totally kissable.

Their waiter came over and gripped Kyle’s outstretched palm like they’d probably done hundreds of times. “You’re back, and you don’t even smell like a camel.”

“Goat. No camels. Goats.”

The two men laughed.

“Christy, this is Griz. Griz, Christy. I’m going to taste-test all your food now that I know he’s on.”

“Bro, I got your back. You’re done enough defending the ladies for a while. Time for some R and R.” Griz nodded in Christy’s direction.

The crab sandwich tasted better than any she’d eaten, but she could only take a few bites. Her anticipation of this meeting completely eliminated her appetite.

The couple from across the way dropped by their table and Kyle introduced them. Without Kyle telling her, she knew the man was another team guy.

“You seen Armando anywhere?” Kyle asked, adding a quick shrug. The eye contact seemed urgent between the two men, despite what Christy saw as Kyle’s attempt to be casual.

“Nope. You try LuLu’s?” The team guy gave Christy a wink, but she could tell all was not well.

“Stopped by yesterday, but they hadn’t seen him either.”

“Well, look, if I catch sight of his sorry ass, I’ll tell him his lover needs to get a call from him, ’kay?” the team guy said, walking backward, holding the girl’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He waved at Christy.

“Later.” Kyle waved back.

“So your friend is still missing?” Christy asked.

“Yep. Probably holed up somewhere. When we don’t want to be found, nobody can find us.”

“But you’re worried,” she insisted.

“He never checked in with me before he left. We always do that. We talk to each other every day.”

“
Every
day?”

Kyle lowered his head. She could see remnants of a grin he didn’t want to show her. “Yep. Every day. We’re practically married.”

Christy’s cheeks heated. This was totally unexpected.

Kyle looked up. “Hey! Don’t worry,” he said. “I only go for the ladies. Please don’t get me wrong.”

“Sorry. Seems like all the best looking guys are gay…”

“Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

His perfect grin made her glad she was sitting down.

She watched him take the final bite of his chili, tipping the bowl to get the last drop into his spoon. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him or anything that he did. He must have noticed how she watched him. He took a long time to dab his mouth with the white paper napkin, his eyes averted. He licked his lips and swallowed. She followed his Adam’s apple down his tanned throat, and then she fell into his gaze as he searched her face. That smile again—it roped her in.