SEAL for Her Protection (SEALs of Coronado Book 1) (4 page)

Ignoring the urge to look over her shoulder again, Hayley turned on CNN and tried to focus on what the anchor was saying about the upcoming presidential election as she made dinner.

She knew everything she was feeling was due to what had happened in Africa. The door of the room where she’d been held had a small window and one of her captors had watched her through it 24/7. She hadn’t even been able to use the bathroom in private. Not only had it been humiliating, but terrifying, too. She’d been too afraid to sleep, sure if she did, one or more of them would come in and rape her—or worse. That’s where this stuff was coming from.

She knew Todd would insist all this paranoia was a sign she was suffering from PTSD, but that was baloney. She didn’t have PTSD—that happened to soldiers in combat. She was simply tense after going through a tough situation. She had no doubt it would clear in time, as soon as she got back to her regular routine.

She started to cut a tomato for the salad she was going to pair with some leftover chicken, but her hand suddenly trembled so much she had to set down the knife and take a deep breath. Maybe she should have taken Brad up on his offer to grab dinner.

Getting herself together, she finished making the salad then picked up her plate and went into the living room so she could eat in front of the TV. Halfway through the meal, the tension started to build up again and she found herself grabbing her cell phone and hitting the speed dial for her friend Jillian Brennan.

She’d immediately hit it off with the up-and-coming assistant district attorney while working on a story a few years back and they’d been BFFs ever since. If there was anyone Haley could talk to, it was Jillian.

Her friend picked up on the first ring. “Hey! I was just thinking about you. Channel 8 ran a promo spot on your upcoming interview with them.”

Hayley stifled a groan. She’d completely forgotten about that. When she’d agreed, it seemed like a good idea. Right now, however, the thought of reliving her ordeal again made her feel ill. Shivering, she snatched the fleece throw off the back of the couch and tossed it over her bare legs.

“I didn’t catch you in the middle of a case or anything, did I?” Hayley asked.

“Nope. I finished up for the day and am on my way home. How about you?”

“Not much. Eating dinner and watching TV.”

In between trying not to have a panic attack.
But she didn’t say that.

On the other end of the line, Jillian sighed. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

Sometimes Hayley thought her friend should have been a journalist instead of a lawyer. Or maybe a psychic. She seemed to have a sixth sense for when people were hiding something. Then again, she supposed that came in handy in Jillian’s line of work, too.

“I’m coming over,” her friend said. “I have to swing by my place to grab some clothes. I’ll be there in a few.”

“You don’t have to do that—” Hayley protested, but Jillian had already hung up.

Hayley tossed her phone on the couch. As much as she hated bothering Jillian, she was glad her friend was coming over. It wasn’t the first time she’d spent the night in the guest room and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Jillian walked in the door exactly fifteen minutes later, her auburn hair up in a messy bun, a weekender on her shoulder, and two DVDs in hand, both romantic comedies.

“I brought microwave popcorn, too,” Jillian said as she dropped her bag on the floor near the couch.

Hayley made the popcorn while Jillian got the DVD set. When she was done, Jillian wandered over to the island separating the kitchen from the living room and sat down on one of the stools there.

“You should talk to someone about this, you know,” Jillian said quietly.

Hayley took her time filling two glasses with iced tea then set one down in front of her friend. This wasn’t the first time Jillian had suggested seeing a therapist. Like Todd, she thought Hayley was experiencing post-traumatic stress. While Hayley didn’t think she was, maybe talking to a psychologist might help her stop being so paranoid. There was just one problem.

“I can’t,” she told Jillian. “If I did, everyone at the paper would know about it. I work in an office full of reporters who snoop in other people’s business for a living, remember?”

“So what if they know?”

“I can kiss my overseas assignments good-bye, that’s what.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Hayley shrugged. “Maybe. But if you suddenly started seeing a therapist, your bosses would put you on the bench, too. It’s the way it is.”

Jillian frowned as she sipped her iced tea but didn’t say Hayley was wrong. Behind Hayley, the microwave dinged. She took out the bag of popcorn and opened it then leaned it against the side of the toaster so the heat could escape.

“I ran into the Navy SEAL today who saved my life over in Africa,” she said, eager to change the subject.

Jillian’s green eyes went wide. Hayley hadn’t told her friend much about her capture and confinement, but she’d told Jillian a lot about her rescue and the SEAL who’d saved her life.

“Where?” Jillian asked.

Hayley explained about the story she was doing on the SEAL construction on Imperial Beach and how she’d met Chasen after the briefing.

“Oooh, I’ve never met a SEAL before,” Jillian said. “What’s he like? Is he as hot as they are in the movies?”

Hayley dumped the popcorn in a bowl and set it on the island between them. “Nah.” She grinned as she tossed a piece in her mouth. The perfect combo of salt and butter immediately melted on her tongue. “He’s hotter.”

Jillian’s face lit up and she leaned forward. “Do tell!”

Hayley laughed and filled her friend in on her conversation with Chasen, including his dinner invitation.

Jillian reached for another handful of popcorn. “You said yes, I hope.”

“Of course I said yes. It’s not every day I get asked out by a Navy SEAL.” Hayley nibbled on another piece of popcorn. “You know, Chasen has some cute friends. Maybe I could set you up with one of them.”

Jillian slowly ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Actually, now that you mention it, there is someone I wouldn’t mind if you set me up with.”

“Who?”

“Brad.”

Hayley blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’ve had a thing for him since the first time you introduced us. He was sitting on your couch intent on some photos on his laptop, scrunching his nose and looking completely adorable.” Jillian made a face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I liked him?”

Honestly, she hadn’t noticed. Brad was sweet, and as loyal a friend as any girl could want, but she’d never pictured him as boyfriend material. She guessed that was because he was like her brother.

“He’s not seeing anyone, is he?” Jillian continued before she could answer.

“No.”

Come to think of it, Brad hadn’t dated anyone in a while. That wasn’t surprising. They were always off on assignment somewhere or other. And even when they were home in San Diego, they were working all hours of the day and night on one story after the next.

“I’ll see what I can do about setting you up with him.” Hayley picked up her glass and the bowl of popcorn. “Come on. Let’s go watch those movies you brought.”

The chick flicks were the perfect diversion. Hot guys. Spunky girls. Romance. Even some adventure. By the time they finished the second one, it was almost midnight, and with Jillian in the guest room, maybe Hayley could actually get a full seven hours of sleep.

Considering how tired she was, she should be out like a light, but the moment the apartment got quiet and she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers, she was once again transported to the dirty hovel where she’d been held captive in Africa.

It didn’t make sense, really. Her apartment was about as far from that place as you could get—and not only geographically either.

She burrowed into the pillow and pulled the blanket higher. She’d been on assignment in a lot of dangerous places and seen some horrifying stuff, most of which she’d rather not remember. But being a victim of the violence she wrote about had affected her, there was no denying it. She liked to believe the flashbacks would disappear when she chased down another story. That was one of the reasons she wanted to go overseas again so badly. But what if this paranoia she felt never went away? What if she went into a war zone and lost it? Or worse, simply froze?

Hayley took a deep breath and closed her eyes, forcing herself to think about something—anything—else. Images of Africa, her captivity, and life chained to her desk at the newspaper because she was too paranoid to go anywhere slowly disappeared to be replaced by Chasen and that sinfully sexy smile of his.

She replayed their brief but flirty conversation in her head over and over, surprised by how much the mere thought of his deep voice calmed her. It wasn’t long before she felt herself drift off to sleep, something she hadn’t been able to do so easily in weeks.

* * * * *

“Are you sure this is the right house?” Brad asked as he snapped photos of the Mediterranean-style villa in the beautiful and very affluent La Jolla.

Hayley shaded her sunglass-covered eyes with her hand and peered up at the two-story stucco house with its fancy arched windows. The wrought iron gate had been open when they arrived and there were no other cars in the driveway. Though there could be a car in the garage. Or three or four of them, given how large the garage was.

“I’m sure,” she said.

Though how Coastal Commissioner Alan Peat could afford it was up for debate. Thanks to
The People
, Peat was currently under investigation for allegedly taking bribes to make sure building permits went to certain individuals. Between the information
The People
had dumped on the Web and what the city investigators had already found, Peat was in deep doo-doo. He was probably looking at jail time.

Hayley and Brad had spent the past two days talking to various sources about
The People
and all the state and city officials who’d recently found themselves on the group’s radar, including Nesbitt and Peat. She’d gotten a lot of juicy tidbits and already had a good article in the works, but Todd wanted some comments from those officials who’d been caught. Political confessions always sold a lot of papers.

That was why she and Brad were standing outside Peat’s home—hoping to get him to agree to a personal interview. And if it turned out the man had some information on who these hacktivists might be—so much the better. Regardless of what her editor wanted, Hayley still thought the real story here was these Internet snoops. After two days of digging into all the corrupt officials they’d uncovered, Hayley was ready to admit
The People
were seriously good at what they did. As in NSA-surveillance kind of good.

But right now, they were focused on the story Todd wanted, and that meant talking to Alan Peat.

Hayley and Brad stepped up to the door and rang the bell then waited. Beside her, Brad took a few more pics then looked down at the display screen on his camera, scrunching his nose as he flipped through the photos he’d taken. Hayley smiled as she pressed the doorbell again. Jillian was right. He did do that. And it was cute as heck.

“I can’t believe people didn’t know this guy Peat was crooked,” Brad remarked. “This home must be worth four million. There’s no way in hell a local commissioner could afford a place like this. Not unless he’s independently wealthy.”

“He’s not,” a man’s voice said from behind them.

Hayley turned to see an elderly man wearing a golf shirt, plaid shorts, and a baseball cap sizing up her and Brad with shrewd eyes.

“You that reporter I’ve been seeing on TV lately?” he asked.

She nodded and offered her hand. “Hayley Garner. And this is my photographer, Brad Oliver. We’re looking for Mr. Peat. Do you know if he’s home?”

“I know for a fact he isn’t,” the man said. “The fink took off like a bat out of hell in the middle of the night a few days back. Based on the size of his suitcase, I’m guessing he ran off to Mexico.”

Hayley exchanged looks with Brad. So much for getting any confessions out of Mr. Peat. But, then again, nothing screamed
I’m guilty
like a one-way vacation to Mexico. She was ready to bag it and head back to the car, but then the neighbor started talking again.

“It’s no wonder all that stuff came out about Peat taking bribes,” the man continued. “I knew he was a crook the first time I met him. Living a life way beyond his means, he was. You can’t run around like a clown trying to keep a bunch of plates spinning and not expect them to come crashing down at some point.”

“When was the moment when you think it all started to tumble down around him?” Brad asked.

Hayley was wondering the same thing. That was why she and Brad made such an awesome team. They always knew what the other was thinking. She would have fist-bumped him if they weren’t standing in front of Peat’s neighbor.

“The night he came home and found those kids poking around in his house. He made such a racket, you could probably hear it a mile away.” The man shook his head. “He actually grabbed a gun and chased them. They had to run across my backyard to get away from him. The bastard knew better than to come onto my property after them. I would have called the cops on him for trespassing…after I shot him myself.”

“Did you get a good look at the kids?” Hayley asked.

The man stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “They were moving too fast and my eyes aren’t what they used to be. There were two boys and a girl, I know that much. Old enough to be in college. I’m betting they were those hacktivists everyone’s talking about. What do they call them—
The People
?”

Hayley nodded, feeling her pulse pick up at the thought this man might actually have seen the hacktivists. “What makes you think they were
The People
?”

“Because a few hours after all the shouting and commotion, there were videos of Peat taking bribes plastered all over the YouTube. And as anyone who’d been in his house could tell you—the videos had been taken right there in his living room. The idiot was filmed taking bribes in his own home. Knowing that, it wasn’t hard to put one and one together and come up with two.”