Hot SEALs: SEALed Fate (Kindle Worlds) (Deep Six Security #0) (4 page)

“Happy now?” Her lips wobbled up at the corners, and Jax dragged his eyes back to the road.  “Lay down back there and don’t you dare pop your head up for
anything
, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

CHAPTER SIX

Fallon had never been more afraid in her life—
ever. 
Even when she was held hostage for millions of dollars her father didn’t have for ransom in that dank, dark room with the dirt floor in the cartel compound in Mexico.  The man beside her had saved her life, and her father that money and in turn they’d ruined his career—his
life
, because she’d created a mountain out of mole hill with the situation with her sister.  Guilt weighed on her more heavily than the thick canvas bag she pulled over herself as she laid on the floorboard.

Although Fallon had always appreciated military men and their service to the country immensely, she had never really understood the whole military process or mentality.  Probably because she’d never been exposed to it.  None of her or her father’s friends had served, most were politicians, bankers and lawyers.  In her naivety, and inexperience she believed that men who enlisted only did it because they had no other options for college, or life.  It was a respectable out for those poor unfortunate souls and she often felt sorry for their life of forced servitude. 

Jaxson Thomas had just convinced her she was dead wrong. 

He had purposely devoted his life to serving the country, had spent years of hard work molding himself into an ultimate warrior for that purpose, and she had taken that all away from him with her outrage, and she admitted it now,
jealousy
, over finding her sister naked in the woods with him.  Fallon felt about two inches tall.  Bile pushed up to choke her, as she flattened her body more against the floorboard, because that’s just how low she felt at that moment, before she pulled the bag over her head.

What Fallon had done to Jaxson amounted to the same thing East Coast Willie was trying to do to her.  Willie’s methods were different, but he was trying to take her out of her chosen career, one she’d worked over a decade to achieve too. 

When she received the first death threat four days ago, a bloody handwritten letter with a headless rat in a box, at the FBI’s request, Fallon had cleared her docket through the end of the month to take leave.  The one hearing she hadn’t cleared though, was Peter Crifaso’s.  Fallon was determined those mobsters were not going to intimidate her or keep her from dealing out the justice they deserved.  She had every intention of being in that courtroom on the last day of the month just to prove that to them.  If she could manage to stay alive until then.

Fallon knew what the gangsters wanted—her to be so scared she recused the case to her father’s courtroom.  That wasn’t happening, because she knew the other Judge Sharpe would either declare a mistrial, or hand out probation.  He’d done that five times now when mob-related cases appeared in his courtroom for charges ranging from racketeering and wire fraud, to money laundering.  All dismissed, and Fallon was beginning to wonder why.  She didn’t want to think her father was taking mob payoffs, or bowing to intimidation, but she was really starting to wonder.

Heat enveloped Fallon as her breathing recycled under the thick heavy cloth making it cloying under there, but she refused to give Jaxson Thomas one more minute of trouble.  He was saving her again even after everything she’d done to him.   Her eyelids became heavy with the monotonous drone of the tires rolling on the pavement, so she closed them, deciding the best favor she could do Jaxson and herself right then was to go to sleep. 

The last four days of her life had been absolute hell, but could in no way compare to the last five years of Jaxson’s, because of her.  For a woman who prided herself on fairness and honesty, above-average intelligence because she’d graduated magna cum laude from an ivy league college and first in her law class, Fallon had been a stupid idiot in this instance. 

A whoosh of cool air swept her strangely wet body and Fallon took a deep shuddering breath of fresh air as she tried to open her eyes.  They were too damned heavy, and she was so tired she snuggled her face against her hands and went back to sleep.

“Fallon
wake
up!” a deep masculine voice growled near her ear, while the owner of that sexy, growly voice shook her shoulder violently.  “I’ve got to get these weapons inside before someone sees them.”  

The word weapons speared through the fog in her brain and Fallon dragged her eyes open to push up.  The dull throb in her head became louder until it pounded.  Pressing a hand to her temple, she groaned.

“You probably have a damned headache from the carbon monoxide,” Jax informed as he knelt down to open the duffle bag she’d been using as a cover.  Her expensive brightly flowered, soft-sided tote bag sat beside the green canvas bag in stark contrast.

“Carbon monoxide?” she repeated groggily.

“I told you to hide, not
asphyxiate
yourself.  Take some deep breaths.”  Jaxson’s body shook as he rearranged the guns in the duffle bag then stuffed ammunition into the pockets. 

Fallon sat on the seat and sucked in deep breaths while she watched him, noticing how much he looked like he had in Cancun.  Purposeful, intent, and capable—and lethal with that gun, or
weapon
as he kept calling it, the big one, strapped across his chest.  Whether on purpose or just because he forgot it was there, he also still wore the cap and her heart jerked.  The narrow bill shaded his blue eyes making him look mysterious.  The low profile shape made his jaw squarer, and the beard growth on that square jaw made her want to run her fingers over it.

“You look pretty deadly with that gun strapped on your chest.” 
And so damned handsome, I can barely stand to look at you
.

“I don’t just look that way—I
am
deadly,” he replied cockily as he zipped up the bag and stood to heft it up to his shoulder.  

That bag had to weigh a ton with all those weapons and bullets in it, yet Jax lifted it like it was a bag of cotton.  With this strong, capable and confident man protecting her, maybe she
would
be able to stay alive for the next two weeks to see Peter get his just desserts.  And maybe after this was over, she’d get to know Jaxson
a lot
better than she did right now.  Perhaps he’d give her a chance to make up to him for what she’d done.

But that was fantasy. 

Jaxson Thomas hated her and had every right to hate her.  Besides, despite all outward appearances and her successes in the legal field, Fallon was still the nerdy bookworm she’d been all her life deep inside where it counted.  Yeah, the image consultant she hired to give her a makeover before she took the bench was good, so was the surgeon who corrected her eyesight so she could lose the glasses.  But not good enough to change that.

This man was alpha cool.  He probably had his choice of sexy women who were just as cool as he was.  To think he would ever find
her
attractive was absurd.  That she was thinking about that at this moment when she was in grave danger was more absurd though.

“Let’s get inside in case those goons did somehow manage to follow us.”  He stepped back to give her room to exit, and pulled the door wider.

All of the warmth her thoughts created fled as Fallon’s blood froze.  “Do you think they followed?” she squeaked her heart shooting up to her throat.

“No—I zigzagged through backroads for two hours, so probably not.  I didn’t see them behind us again, but we need to stay vigilant.  Watch our six.”

“Our six?” Her brow knotted. “Why not our seven, eight, nine and ten?”

His face spread into an easy smile, the first she’d ever seen from him, and Fallon’s eyes clicked over every perfectly straight, white tooth, before gliding back up to his eyes.

“Military term for our backs,” he clarified with a laugh.

“I definitely want you watching my six then,” Fallon replied, returning his smile as she slid her legs out of the car to stand.  “And all those other numbers too.” 
Watching, touching, or whatever else he wanted to do with them.
  Sixty-nine would be a good number, or the author made it look very good in the book she’d read in her early twenties.  She’d fantasized about it often enough.

What in the heck was wrong with her, Fallon wondered in disgust, as she brushed her jeans when pebbled shards of glass from the shattered window scattered at her feet.

Jaxson’s hand shot out to grab her wrist but not soon enough.  She pulled her hands away to see she had several nicks on her palms beading with blood. 
Clumsy
, nerdy bookworm, she amended, as he grabbed her wrist to pull her into the light and inspect her hands. 

“I’ll find Jon’s first aid kit, but none of the cuts look too deep.”  He sighed as he dropped her hand to turn toward the townhouse type condos. “Let’s get inside.”

It was obvious he wasn’t waiting for her, and Fallon wasn’t staying out in the dark parking lot alone, so she took double-steps to keep up with his long strides to the door of the condo at the far end of the row of six. She looked up at the big bright full moon and the million stars in the sky, while Jaxson punched a code into the keypad beside the door.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key then inserted it into the three locks on the door, before swinging it open.  

“Stay right here for a second,” he said, leaving the door open as he walked inside flipping on lights.  Fallon looked around the parking lot, expecting to see a black vehicle zoom into the lot, but none came before he reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her inside.

“Did you see how pretty the moon is tonight?” Fallon asked, as she walked inside and glanced at the very masculine décor of the condo.

“Yeah, I saw it,” Jaxson replied looking none too happy, as he walked to set his bag down beside the sofa.  Sitting, he removed the weapons he’d just loaded into the bag outside and checked each one, before laying it on the coffee table. 

Why was he grumpy all of a sudden?  Maybe he was as worried and edgy as she was right then, so she decided to try to start a conversation with him that didn’t involve guns or goons…or Cancun.  They could both probably use a little distraction, and she would like to get to know her protector a little better.

“I love full moons, they signal the start of another cycle of life,” she said, and his back muscles tensed under his tight polo. 

“Or the end of it depending how you look at it.  That’s always been my experience.”  He laid out more ammunition on the table.

“Half-empty, half-full,” Fallon replied, as she walked around the table to sit on the sofa beside him, but Jaxson held up his hand.

He wasn’t smiling anymore when his stony eyes met hers.  “I’m not in the mood for small talk right now.  I need to finish this first so I can get your hands bandaged.”

Hurt and insult mixed to form anger inside her, but Fallon pinched her lips, refusing to let that anger free. 
Not a minute more trouble
. 

“I can do that,” Fallon said, standing back up.  “I have to go to the bathroom anyway, so I’ll look around for the first-aid kit.”  When he didn’t even look up at her, she added, “I’ll probably take a shower too, if that’s okay?”  This wasn’t her condo and she didn’t want to be rude and act like it was.  It wasn’t his either, but she’d feel better having permission.

“Third door down on the right,” Jaxson grumbled, as he clicked something on the big weapon then pointed it at the fireplace looking down the barrel.  “Leave some hot water though, I need a shower too.”

Fallon stopped at the end of the sofa to pick up her bag, before she walked down the hallway feeling a little sad, and a lot awkward.  She wondered what she’d done now to perpetuate his foul mood.  Other than breathing. 

If Jax Thomas remained in that mood the next few weeks, or however long it took to get East Coast Willie off her
six
, those weeks were going to be awfully tense and uncomfortable.  So much for hoping they could even become friends.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fallon took a very quick shower, settling for using the sporty male body wash on the ledge in the shower to shampoo her hair.  She’d forgotten to pack her own toiletries with the inordinate time it took to get finished with the police and then their rush to leave the house.   Too bad the scent wasn’t whatever Jaxson Thomas used, because she definitely wouldn’t mind rolling in that scent when she tried to go to sleep that night.

With a steamy, huffed breath, Fallon exited the shower and wrapped a thick over-sized towel around herself.  Everything in this condo shouted man, even the bath-sheet sized navy blue towel that almost wrapped around her twice. 

She wondered about the owner of the condo, the mysterious Jon that Jax kept referring to. It was obvious to her now that she’d seen the condo, that Jon was single because there wasn’t a scrap of femininity in the condo.  She’d even looked in the bedroom next to the bathroom, and found a plain brown silk comforter on the queen bed and not a throw-pillow in sight.  Definitely a male’s bedroom.  Maybe Jon was a SEAL too, she thought, leaning forward to wipe the mirror with her forearm, since her hands were sliced up. 

Walking to the linen closet, she opened it and tiptoed to dig around until she found the white-topped box with a cross on the lid.  Pulling it down, she placed it on the vanity and opened the lid removing antiseptic swabs, a tube of antibiotic ointment and several Band-aids.

Jaxson was right, the cuts weren’t deep, but the problem was they were on both hands, and her right elbow she discovered in the shower, but she was determined to take care of herself so she didn’t have to bother him.  In the mood he was in, that was probably for the best. 

I’m not in the mood for small talk right now
.  Well, Fallon was not going to
bore
him with her chatter again.
I need to finish this first, so I can get your hands bandaged
.  Like she was an arduous chore that needed to be dealt with, much like cleaning his weapons.  Well, Jaxson Thomas could clean those guns of his until they sparkled, because she’d be damned if she asked him for help. 
GAPS doesn’t have another SEAL to send to babysit you. 
Fallon didn’t need babysitting, she needed protection and that’s why she’d hired GAPS.  This she could handle herself.

After swabbing the cuts on her right hand, she picked up the tube, uncapped it and squirted a line of ointment over each cut.  Grabbing a bandage, she stared at it a minute, then ripped the end of the covering off with her teeth feeling a sense of victory.  Until she saw the white plastic strips covering the adhesive.  Using her mouth to remove those would defeat the purpose of the sterile bandage. 

Curling her fingers, she flicked one end of the covering with her nail until the end came up and she could remove it.  With the number of cuts she had, this process was going to take all night.  But what else did she have to do?  Lay in bed awake all night quaking while she wondered when Willie would catch up with them again?  One thing was for sure, she would not be trying to talk to her uncommunicative bodyguard. 

But she sure wouldn’t mind a little non-verbal communication with him.

Disgusted with herself and her thoughts yet again, Fallon yanked off the second white protective covering and laid the bandage over the cut near the fleshy part of her hand below her thumb.  She was just horny because she hadn’t had sex in a year, and her surly bodyguard put off enough testosterone and pheromones that her body was reminded of that fact every time he got near her.  Human mating cause and effect was something else Fallon had studied in detail in her off-time from studying the law in college, because she wasn’t mating. 

If someone saw the box of books at the back of her closet at home, they’d probably think she was a human reproductive major instead of a law major.  Or a degenerate.  The law books she’d read in her father’s study when she was a teenager she’d soaked up like a sponge.  The other recreational reading came under her bedcovers at night with a flashlight.  Her younger sister Hannah seemed to be born with a knowledge about the subject that Fallon had missed out on.

Since her ugly duckling transformation three years ago, Fallon Sharpe had plenty of dates. More than she wanted really, with men she definitely didn’t want. Those dates included a med student who was nice enough, but recounted over dinner the procedure he’d performed on a huge cyst.  Another was with a senatorial aide who was carded when he bought their drinks because he was barely old enough to grow facial hair.  Then she dated two older lawyers, fortyish but definitely not past their prime.  Fallon knew that because she had sex with one of them and some pretty heavy petting with the other.  The sum of her actual sexual experience.

None of those men interested her one damned bit though.  They were practice runs to test out her books’ theories.  But put one brooding, hard-bodied Navy SEAL in front of her and her body was ready to detonate, her mind wanted to know everything there was to know about him right down to what he was thinking, so she could figure out what made him tick.

Was it because he was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out?
 

Most likely, because, along with being a book nerd, Fallon was obsessive-compulsive when it came to figuring out things she didn’t understand.  Jaxson Thomas fit into that category well.

Usually, she could get her answers by reading books, but there wasn’t one on the puzzle that was Jaxson Thomas.  Maybe she could Google SEALs to find out exactly what they did other than rescue Girls Gone Wild, whose stupid friends mentioned they were federal judge’s daughters to drug cartels in Mexico.  But she wouldn’t be able to do that until she got back home, since she’d forgotten her phone at home in the rush to leave.  But Jaxson would be gone then so the research would be useless, as useless as thinking about him was now.

A whoosh of warm air accompanied the bathroom door swinging inward.  Fallon grabbed for her now loosely wrapped towel, but realized she couldn’t hold it with the Band-aid in her hand and her other palm filled with ointment so she just prayed it didn’t unwind.  Or disintegrate from the heat in Jaxson Thomas’ eyes.

“Sorry to intrude, but Jon’s bathtub is full of…” Jaxson’s voice trailed off as his eyes locked on her breasts before floating down to her toes.  “Um, full of duffle bags he has soaking in some kind of solution.”  Finally, he dragged his eyes back to hers to walk into the bathroom and stand beside her. “Let me help with that.”

Fallon took a quick step back, because between the steam in the bathroom and his heat she was definitely burning up.

“I’ve got it,” she protested, turning away to rip open the second bandage with her teeth, flick off the film over the adhesive with her nail before carefully laying the sterile pad over the cut on her index finger. Wrapping the ends around, she turned back.  “See, all fixed, so you can go clean your guns.  I’ve got this under control.”

“What about the other ones on your other palm, and your elbows.  You had a blood streak down the back of your forearm when you walked out of the living room.”

He’d been watching her walk off?

Other than his short, rude words, Fallon hadn’t even been sure Jaxson Thomas knew she was in the condo with him.  “I don’t need your help, but thank you.” 

Jaxson grabbed her wrist and fire shot up to her arm.  Her eyes met his and electrical current flowed between them through an invisible but very potent connection. 

“But I
want
to help, so I can get a shower sometime tonight.  You’ve been in here for over an hour,” he replied gruffly, as he turned her palm over to smooth his thumb over the bandage beneath her thumb to press it more firmly to her skin. 

Her skin felt alive with little sparks that danced up to her elbow, but Fallon pulled her hand away.  The irritation in his voice
irritated
her.  Gathering up the things on the vanity, she tossed them back into the kit and picked it up. 

“I’ll just take this into the living room, so you can shower.  I apologize for being a bathroom hog, but I did leave you plenty of hot water.”

Jaxson grabbed the box from her and slammed it back on the counter then flipped back the lid.  He pulled out a cleansing wipe, opened it with his teeth then wiped it over the small cut at the outside edge of her left hand.  He picked up the ointment, squeezed a line over the cut then grabbed a bandage, and in a flurry of efficient movement had it on her hand. 

His eyes fixed on her mouth before dropping to a spot on her chin.  “How in the world did you get a nick there?” he asked, his warm hand moving to her cheek.  Fallon shivered when his thumb whispered over the area where he focused.

“The glass from the window was all over the floorboard.  I must’ve had some on my hands when I put my face on them to sleep.”  Hot waves of awareness washed through her when his thumb stroked her chin again.

“Why didn’t you say something?’  His thumb came to rest at the corner of her mouth making her lips buzz.

“I didn’t want to distract you from your
job
.  That wouldn’t have been very healthy for me.”  As her face moved, the slightly rough pad of his thumb raked her skin, igniting nerve endings that sent sparks up to her scalp to raise every hair.

“You’re different now,” Jaxson commented, surprising her, because after his rudeness earlier when she tried to start a conversation with him it appeared he wanted to have one with her because he leaned a hip on the vanity.  “What happened to cause that?  A boyfriend?” 

Jaxson reached up to slide his fingers down a strand of her wet hair, forcing a cold droplet of water to plop into the well of her collarbone and she shivered.  Her face heated, because he sounded almost amused at the suggestion, like her having a boyfriend was just unthinkable to him.  Fallon wanted to say yes, just to wipe that superior look from his handsome face, but couldn’t force the lie past her lips. 

“No, not a boyfriend,” she replied, a little too sharply. “I decided the awkward bookworm look wasn’t conducive to being appointed a federal judge.  I found an image consultant and she worked wonders on the outside and eye surgery did the rest.”  With a short dry laugh, Fallon tapped her chest above the towel.  “That girl is still in here though, wearing those thick glasses, sporting that frizzy red bush better than Ronald McDonald ever could.” 

“Making assumptions about people and situations that are dead wrong, just doing it while wearing a black robe now?” Jax asked, his words bouncing off the walls before spearing right through her heart.

Anger surged up her body causing pressure to build behind her eyes.  “I don’t make a habit of that no—I’m
very
fair in my decisions.  Even with William Crifaso, who deserved twenty years in prison, but I gave him ten.”  Fallon crossed her arms over her chest.  “I made a mistake in your situation and I’ve apologized.  Do Navy SEALS not make mistakes?” 

“If a Navy SEAL makes a mistake, it’s usually his last.  So no, we don’t make them often, and our commanding officers don’t tolerate them well.  We screw up, and live to tell about it, we may wish we were dead when they finish with us.”  Jaxson’s heated eyes dropped to her lips before darting back up to hers.  “There’s a price to be paid for mistakes.”

Fallon huffed a frustrated breath, and put her hands on her hips.  “Okay, what’s the price of your forgiveness, Jaxson? A pint of blood? My firstborn child?  Just tell me and I’ll gladly pay it.  I want to move past this with you.”

His lips pinched and blue fire sparked in his eyes as he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.  Fallon’s eyes took inventory of every muscle in his broad chest as he reached for his belt buckle and unfastened it.

“What’s my price?” Jaxson asked with a dry laugh, as he slid the zipper of his slacks down the track.  “Tell me, Judge Sharpe, since you’re so
fair
…”  He bent to push his pants down to his ankles before stepping out of them.  Fallon’s heart stopped beating when he stood back up.  Her eyes locked on the front of his tight white boxer briefs that hid nothing, including the fact that he was fully erect under them.  “What do you think would be the appropriate
price
to be paid for ruining my career?  For making me live without my dignity for the last five years when you knew the truth for at least half of those years but didn’t tell anyone to save your own self and your father embarrassment?” 

Fallon had no idea at all, but her instincts had only steered her wrong once—that night in Cancun.  Surely Jaxson Thomas wasn’t suggesting it, but at the moment it was exactly the price she wanted to pay.  Dropping to her knees in front of him, Fallon looked up at him when she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. 

Jaxson’s nostrils flared, his breaths rasped and his eyes dilated as she slowly pushed the shorts over his tight rear end then slid her fingers around the band to push them over his thickly muscled thighs to his knees.  She ran her palms back up the silk covered steel columns of his legs and he groaned, a tremor rocked him and his erection thickened.

“Is my dignity for yours a fair price?” she asked, her voice hoarse.