Hot SEALs: SEALed Fate (Kindle Worlds) (Deep Six Security #0) (9 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Oh!  My car is back!” Fallon squealed, as Jax pulled up to the curb down the street from her house and stopped the van. 

She wondered why he parked so far away, but she wasn’t complaining.  She was back at her house, which looked to have been totally repaired while she was gone, and so was her car.  Fallon grabbed the door handle, but Jax’s hand clamped on her arm to stop her.

“
Wait
—let me go check it out first.  Stay here,” Jaxson growled, releasing her arm to remove the keys from the ignition. 

On the way back to Washington, they’d stopped in Virginia to meet a man named Chris Cassidy, a charming blonde man with a thick southern drawl, who according to Jax was also a former SEAL and GAPS employee, so Jax could pick up even more equipment.  Fallon had no idea what was in the large canvas bag he’d thrown into the back of the van, but the men stood behind the van talking about it for almost an hour before they got back on the road. 

When she heard the back door of the van open, Fallon assumed Jaxson was getting something out of that bag.  But his weapons bag, only a little smaller, which stayed by his side like a man purse, was back there too.  He could be getting a cannon out of that bag to set up on her front lawn for all she knew, and it would not surprise her one bit.

With every mile they got closer to Washington, the edgier and quieter her bodyguard became, focusing on their surroundings like he expected the mobsters to appear out of thin air. Fallon knew the danger that waited for her here, and she was afraid, but determined too. 

She was not going to let that trial be remanded to her father, and she was going to help the FBI help her get her life back.  Jaxson seemed just as determined to keep her safe until she’d accomplished that, which gave her comfort and confidence she might just be alive to live that life when she got it back.

Considering the shoulder holster and gun he’d taken to wearing when they left Florida, along with the one strapped to his ankle under his slacks which she’d seen when he put on his shoes, she had no doubt if anything happened he’d take care of business. Right now, her bodyguard was the stone-faced warrior who’d rescued her in Cancun.  Fallon missed Jaxson’s smiles and sarcasm, but she felt safe with the former SEAL beside her.  This man would keep her safe until this nightmare was over, or die trying. 

A chill zipped through her, turning her blood to ice in her veins. 
God, please don’t let him die, or me either
.  Fallon wanted to be able give him the time to
get his head together
he’d asked for after this was over to see where it went. 

Until then though, Fallon needed to be all business too, have her own focus to get through this trial to prove the point that she would not be intimidated to East Coast Willie.  He was not going to win, and his nephew was not going to get off easy in her father’s courtroom. 

Jax appeared at the front of the van and walked toward her car with a long golf club looking thing in his hand.  Unsnapping her seat belt, Fallon sat on the edge of the seat.  Bright sun reflected off the end of the club to blind her and she realized there was a mirror on the end of the shaft.  She watched as he shoved the end of the club under the chassis of her car and walked slowly all the way around it, staring at the mirror. 

He stopped on the far side of the car and frowned, seeming to focus on something there then disappeared so she assumed he must be on all fours looking underneath now.  Fallon’s fingers dug into the dashboard until Jax stood again, but he didn’t come back to the van, he walked quickly toward the house with his cell phone in his hand.

Fallon’s heart kicked, because she knew from the tense muscles in his broad back that Jax had found something.  Her hand went to the door handle, but she paused. 

Stay here
. 

She released it to sit on pins and needles, while watching Jax stand on her stoop to inspect the doorframe of her house, but he didn’t try to open the door.  When he got on his knees, Fallon saw there was a brightly wrapped box on her doorstep.  Leaning in he sniffed it, then shot up to his feet and jerked the weapon out of his shoulder holster before striding back across the yard like a stealthy panther scanning the area as he made his way back to the van.

He got inside, tossed the club into the backseat and the van was cranked and in motion before he even inserted the keys into the ignition it seemed.  Fallon slammed against the back of the seat as he shoved his foot the floor.  Hand shaking, she quickly fastened her belt. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked her heart in her throat.

“I don’t give a damn what the FBI said, you’re not staying at that house.  Zane is calling Senator Greenwood to see if we can stay with them.  And he’s getting a couple of the guys to come help me.”

“What did you find?  What was that present on my doorstep?” Fallon asked, her heart pounding in her ears now, fear twisting her gut.  Jax just ground his jaw, his knuckles practically white on the steering wheel.  She turned in the seat to put her hand on his forearm.  “Jaxson,
please
tell me so I know what’s going on!” 

He glanced at her and his eyes were dark, the blue almost occluded by his dilated pupils, his agitation practically a force field around him.

“What’s going on is those terroristic bastards have an ass-whooping coming to them if—
when—
I
catch up to them,” he replied, through lips that were ringed white they were pinched so tightly.  He twisted the wheel and the tires squealed on the roadway as he rounded the corner onto the road that would bring them to the interstate. 

Fallon was determined he was going to expand on his answer, even though she didn’t really want to hear, because she had a feeling she would pass into the horrified stage of her fear.  Her fingers dug into the armrests beside her seat.  “I need to know what to watch out for, Jaxson. 
Tell
me what you found!”

“A fucking pipe bomb if the gasoline I smelled is any indication.  Probably just like the one they put under your car and attached to the ignition.  The front door of your house was wired with C4 too, but not very professionally.”

Her hair stood on end, a terrified whimper bubbled at the center of her throat, but Fallon refused to let it push past her lips.  Now wasn’t the time to fall apart.  

“What is C4?” she asked.

“Plastic explosives.”  The two words pinged off the walls of the van then settled as terror inside her brain.  It looked like Willie was getting desperate to kill her now, and sickness settled in her stomach, because she knew if there wasn’t a mole inside the FBI who told him she was coming back, there was only one person who could’ve told him. 

But Jaxson continued, upping her fear factor, “I imagine if those devices were disabled, and that was removed, there would be more
presents
for you inside the house.”  He glanced over at her.  “But the good news is, the alarm system I had the repair contractor install is working perfectly.  That tells me, he had to have allowed the C4 to be installed on the door, before the alarm was armed.”

“You think the mob paid him off too?” Fallon asked, her voice shaking with her body.  His response was a raised eyebrow.  All the starch left Fallon’s body and she collapsed back against the seat to cross her arms over her chest.  Was there anyone in this town immune to the reach of East William Crifaso’s intimidation and bribery?  

It needed to stop, and Fallon was the only one who could do that.  

She and Senator Greenwood were going to have a long, private conversation when she got to his home.  Much longer than the argument she’d had with her father on the phone in the bedroom before they left Florida, when she called to tell him she was on her way back to Washington to hear the Crifaso case. 

Fallon, the trial is in my courtroom now.  Please do not upset the apple cart.  I’ve dealt with these mobsters for years—just let me handle it.  You stay wherever you are until this is over. 

When she told her father she didn’t care about the mob’s apple cart, she wanted to upset it, and had every intention of doing that by being the judge presiding over Peter Crifaso’s trial, his response, “
I should never have gotten you appointed to the bench.  They tried to tell me…
” told Fallon everything she needed to know about Judge James Sharpe.  His words, the desperation in his tone, confirmed everything she’d suspected for years, but didn’t want to admit.

Her father was in the mob’s pocket too.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jax drove for what seemed like hundreds of miles, but was only about twenty, following the directions Fallon gave him, which were identical to the ones Zane had provided.  He turned onto a long tree-lined country road in Gig Harbor near the Naval Ship Yard.  The thick woods on his left worried him as far as being suitable for a sniper hide, but the sparse multi-million dollar estates on his right eased the tension in his body a little.  Most of the mansions were set well back from the road and he could see they were all on the water, which gave them better security in the rear.  He hoped it would be the same at Senator Greenwood’s estate.

“We’re getting close,” Fallon said, tapping his forearm. “Slow down, that’s it up there,” she said pointing off in the distance.

Jax didn’t see it at first, but when he did, he stopped breathing.  The palatial home wasn’t just on the water, it looked to be on twenty acres or so too, and every inch was surrounded by a six-foot wrought iron fence with spikes on every post.  Trees dotted the yard, but nothing substantial to provide cover for tangos, or sniper hides.  When he stopped at the callbox in front of the brick and wrought iron gate blocking the driveway, Jax relaxed because it appeared to him that Zane’s assessment that it a secure place to bring Fallon was right. 

Now, if he could just convince her to stay here and let her father hear that case so he could keep her safe, it would be all good.  But Jax knew that was as likely as him dropping her off here and letting Chris and Rick protect her while he went back to Virginia like Zane suggested.

Not happening.  Like he’d told Zane, he would gladly accept more help.  That meant extra sets of eyes to watch out for Fallon and watch his six, but Jaxson wasn’t going anywhere.

The exit suggestion came because Chris informed Zane after they met in Virginia for him to pick up an ARF kit and other equipment, that Jax appeared a little too emotionally attached to the situation.  Add in that Zane now knew about Jax’s side-trip to Colorado to get the Arab death squad off his tail, since Jaxson had informed Jon, and Zane had plenty of reason to want him off this assignment.  His meltdown on the phone with Zane after he found the explosives at Fallon’s house probably hadn’t helped either. 

But dammit the horrific mental images of Fallon being blown to bits, images that were magnified to 3-D in his mind because Jaxson had seen that kind of thing happen firsthand during his time in the teams, made him want to vomit in the yard.  He still might do that once she was safe inside this estate.  If he hadn’t done the check, hadn’t found the explosives.  Jaxson blew out a breath.  He had checked, and Fallon hadn’t gotten blown up—she was safe.  Thank
God,
he’d checked.  Rolling down the window, he jabbed the speaker button. 

He glanced over at Fallon and she was looking out the side window, seeming unaffected now.  She had a sense of calm determination and resignation about her that Jaxson wished he could imitate.  He was determined to protect her, but calm was the last thing he was feeling. 

I like a side of emotion with my hot sex
. 

Well, babycakes, you’ve got that now in spades, Jax thought, as he pushed the button again and again, until an impatient voice answered.  “Yes, may I help you?”

“Jaxson Thomas and Judge Sharpe here to see Senator Greenwood.”

There was no response, but the heavy gate slid left, and Jaxson finally breathed again when he drove inside and watched it shut behind them.  He drove the quarter mile down the blacktop driveway to the horseshoe in front of the house.  The right side of the huge front door swing wide and a well-kept gray haired woman appeared in the doorway to wave.

Fallon waved back and smiled as she grabbed for her door handle, but Jax stopped her.

“Let me come around first and walk you to the house,” he said, and she looked at him through narrowed eyes, but she waited. 

Jax pulled his weapon from the shoulder holster, as he slammed the driver’s door and walked around to her side to help her out.  They were at a relatively secured location now, but he wasn’t taking any chances they were followed as he stopped to scan the yard along the perimeter of the fence line, before he opened her door.  Blocking her from view from the west side of the property, which seemed the least secure, Jax walked with Fallon up to the six steps to the front door, before he re-holstered his pistol and shut the door once they were inside the house. 

Fallon and who he assumed was Mrs. Greenwood hugged in the wide marble foyer and Jax blew out a breath. 

“Zane told us about the trouble you’re having, and I’m so sorry Fallon,” Mrs. Greenwood said, before pushing her away to look at her. “I thought with the bodyguard that Zane sent to protect you—”  The derision in her tone made Jax flinch, but Fallon cut her off quickly.

“Oh, Jaxson
has
protected me—
very
well.  William Crifaso and his goons have tried their best at every turn to get rid of me.”  Fallon stepped back and turned to wave a hand his way.  “It’s only because of Jaxson that I’m still alive to continue to be a thorn in his side.  I’m about to request a meeting with your husband to tell him that and thank him for his recommendation.”

Mrs. Greenwood’s blue eyes dropped to Jax’s toes then slowly glided up to meet his.  Her red lips curved up at the corners and Jaxson wondered why her unlined brow didn’t move when she smiled.  Why there were no lines beside the obviously middle-aged woman’s eyes? 

Probably for the same reason she wore those huge diamonds like icing on her body, and wrapped it in the perfectly-tailored suit that probably cost more than his Charger.  This woman wore the scent of money as perfume.  She was a socialite and could have anything in the world she wanted.  The same kind of woman he’d thought Fallon was before he’d gotten to know her.  He was sure she’d been raised just the same way, but he was so damned glad she hadn’t turned out like Mrs. Greenwood.

Fallon’s affectionate smile, the pride and confidence in her words, punched Jax in the gut as she walked over to take his arm. “Mrs. Greenwood, I’d like you to meet my handsome shadow, Jaxson Thomas.  The man GAPS assigned to be my bodyguard.”

Mrs. Greenwood’s eyes fixed on his holster.  “Well, I can see now why you’re not worried.  The same reason we no longer worry about Missy now that she’s run Zane to ground.”  The woman’s shrill, tinkling laugh grated on every nerve in Jax’s body, but he held his even expression.  

Run Zane to ground?
  Mrs. Greenwood’s description made his former teammate sound like a fox who had been cornered in a hunt led by her daughter.  Knowing Zane like he did, her description might not be far off the mark at all though.  It would take a crafty huntress to run Zane Alexander to ground. Jax hoped to meet that woman soon.

“Speaking of which…” Mrs. Greenwood grabbed Fallon’s shoulders. “Zane and Missy are coming to dinner so you can meet them.”  She glanced at Jax, then wrinkled her nose as she looked back at Fallon.  “I think Zane left a dinner jacket here that would fit your bodyguard.”

A dinner jacket?
  Jax had never worn a dinner jacket in his life—plenty of
flak
jackets, but never a sports coat.  He wondered if that was a common thing for Zane—to suit up for dinner.

A short dark-haired woman suddenly appeared beside Mrs. Greenwood as if she read minds.  “Miranda will show you to your rooms, and I’ll tell my husband you’d like to meet with him, Fallon.  Paolo is outside getting your luggage right now, and he’ll deliver it to your rooms”

Fuck
!  Jaxson turned and ran to the front door.  He flung it open, and sure enough,
Paolo
was trying to heft his weapons bag out of the back of the van. 

Working at Deep Six, being bored out of his skull for two of the four years he’d worked for them managing that security detail assignment at that luxury hotel, had made him rusty—
careless
. 

A SEAL
never
let anyone else handle his weapons. Hell, he never let them out of his
sight
, and Jaxson had done just that.  Heart pounding, he sprinted down the stairs to shove Paolo, a thin, dark-complexioned man in a mint green lawn shirt, aside.  Leaning inside the van, Jax yanked his weapons bag and the ARF Kit out to put one on each shoulder then bounced them to balance the weight. 

“Sorry, I’ve got this,” Jax said, thinking the man’s wide eyes and expression meant he’d scared him.

The man’s eyes widened even more before he grinned.  “Muy macho like Mr. Zane.”

Was that Spanish?  Jax’s insides froze. Or fucking
Italian
?  The only foreign language Jaxson knew was Farsi, and only a little at that, so he couldn’t be sure.  He huffed a breath as he turned toward the house. 

Something else he needed to do was vet the house staff here. Jax had no idea there would even
be
house staff.  The Prince had servants, but the wives managed them and they had been vetted before he took the job.  This type of set-up was totally foreign to him.  He knew Zane would’ve had no reason to do that until now either.  He was going to fix that problem right now.  But Jaxson would be damned glad when his teammates got here to help him.

He jogged up the steps to the front door and looked up to see Fallon standing in the doorway, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Get back in the house,” he growled shoving her inside then slamming the door, before he rounded on her.  “You are not to be in the doors, windows or outside this house at
all
without me—you got that, babycakes?” he grated.

Fallon gasped, looked over her shoulder then stalked up to poke him in the center of the chest with her finger.  “And I told
you
not to call me that,” she hissed, before stepping back.  “I won’t go outside, trust me, I’ll probably be in the library with Senator Greenwood until dinner.  Your room is up the stairs at the end of the hallway.  Miranda laid a jacket out for you on the bed.  We’re having drinks in the parlor at six.”

“Where is your room?” Jaxson asked, banishing the pet name from his brain so he didn’t accidentally call her that in front of anyone else.  God forbid he should do that in front of Zane.

She looked surprised.  “First one at the top of the stairs to the left.”

“Then we’re switching or I’m moving in with you.  You aren’t going to be the first thing a tango finds at the top of those stairs.”

“A tango?” she repeated, looking confused.

Jax grabbed her shoulders.  “A bad guy, an intruder—a freaking mobster who wants your pretty red head on a spike in his living room.”  Her face blanched, and her shoulders shook.  He blew out a breath.  “I’m sorry for scaring you, but I need to anticipate what could happen to keep you alive.”

“The only reason you’re scaring me is because you look scared.  I’m not used to seeing you afraid,” Fallon said softly.  “Ever since you found those bom—”  He put his finger over her mouth, so she didn’t say that word.

Jaxson wasn’t used to
being
afraid.  The stuff that he’d faced on the missions he’d had in the teams had been a hundred times worse than this, to places nobody wanted to go, and he wasn’t afraid at all.  Because he knew the teams had taught him to be the best of the best, adaptive in all situations—to figure shit out with a cool head. 

Right now?  Jax was about as far from cool as a man could be.  He was scared to death he’d fail and this woman would die as a result.  He’d lose her forever. 

Jax needed to get his shit together, because Fallon was depending on him.  In this reactive knee-jerk mode of operation where he let his emotions run the show, he was destined to fail.  Even though his skin felt like red ants were biting the underside, and the acid in his stomach was a burning hole there, Jax schooled his features and found his calm. 

“You’re mistaken,” Jaxson said, with an arrogant snort.  “I’m a decorated Navy SEAL lady, so fear is not something I’m familiar with.  What I am familiar with is making sure you’re secure here.  That being said, I need to talk to Mrs. Greenwood so she can arrange for me to meet the staff as soon as possible.”

“I think she’s in the kitchen talking to her cook about dinner,” Fallon informed, her brow furrowing.  “But why do you need to talk to the staff?”

“To make sure they’re not tangos,” he replied.

“God, you’re paranoid aren’t you?” Fallon asked with amazement.

“No, I’m just extra careful,” Jaxson replied with a wink, stroking his finger over her lower lip. “Especially with those I care about.  Ask my sister, and my mother.” 

Yes, he’d meant to say it, because it was true. 

Her shocked expression told him now probably wasn’t the time to tell her that, but Jax had just realized that was his whole problem here.  Why he’d been so freaked out over the explosives, so desperate to get her away from her house.  It was why this assignment was different from any mission he’d been on. 

Those mostly nameless people he’d rescued or killed on those other missions were simply rescues and targets down.  He never allowed himself to think of them as people.  Jax didn’t get close to them or want to know them personally.  That allowed him to remain detached if something went wrong.  Most of the missions were one hundred percent successful.  The Green Teams were just that good.  One or two times though, someone didn’t make it out with them, usually because they were already badly injured before the teams got there.  By keeping himself detached, Jaxson could deal with the situation.