HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (12 page)

Or was it?

“Dude, women talk. Don’t you know that by now?”

It took him a minute to figure out what Viking was saying. “You mean Ivy?”

“Yeah, Ivy.”

Viking’s wife was one hot DEA agent. She was also freaking smart. And, apparently, somehow friends with Christina. Which he hadn’t known. Or suspected.

Though maybe he should have. Whenever the guys got together with Alpha Squad, the women ended up over in their own corner, talking and laughing and no doubt plotting mayhem. That’s where Christina would have gotten to know Ivy.

“What do you know?” he asked his team leader.

Viking shrugged. “Not a lot. There was a one-night stand after which she avoided you. I’ve been wondering how pissed off you were and how you were going to handle having to deal with her again.”

“Goddamn.” That was more than he’d ever told anybody—while Christina was apparently telling Ivy.

And who the hell else? All the women? Evie Girard?

Fuck…

“Welcome to my world, bro. Ivy’s spy network is far greater than mine. No telling what she knows.”

Remy shook his head. “Well, hell. Why didn’t you say something before?”

He remembered the way Viking had looked at him when they’d found out Christina was in Qu’rim. He’d wondered then what that look meant. Now he knew.

“Hey, I’ve had my own woman troubles in the past. Ivy and I married, divorced, and married again. Who am I to judge? Besides, you’re too professional to let it interfere with the job. And if it did in some way, you’d be the first to say something about it. So I’m not worried—unless I need to be. Do I?”

Remy was surprised at the catch in his throat. “No. And thanks. Appreciate your confidence.”

“Never in doubt, you crazy Cajun motherfucker.”

Remy grinned.
“Motier foux—
half-crazy.”

Viking snorted and waved a hand. “Yeah, whatever. So is it over for good? Or is there still a chance?”

Remy shrugged. “Don’t know. Might be a chance. Not entirely sure I want to take it though.”

“Always take the chance,” Viking said, his expression serious. “If you don’t, you’ll never know what you missed. Life doesn’t often hand us a second chance. I say grab on with both hands and don’t let go when it does.”

T
he day was strange
. It was hot, the air seemed heavy with impending danger, and yet it was also dull and quiet. Christina sat in the common room of the safe house, hair twisted on top of her head and held in place with a banana clip she’d thankfully found in her purse. She’d shed the abaya and hijab, and right now she was wishing she’d worn a dress instead of jeans. Or that she’d stuffed a dress into her purse when she’d been grabbing things from the hotel.

The best she could do was take off the button-down shirt she’d put on over a tank top and hope that was enough to get through the day since the jeans had to stay on.

Unfortunately, it was hot in the house in spite of the swamp cooler that beat out a pitiful tune as it worked to do a job far beyond its capability. The air coming from it was rusty and vaguely cool. This was the only building that had any kind of AC, so they’d all gathered here to wait.

Penny and Robert sat across from each other. Today they looked like a boss and secretary trying to keep their affair secret. They didn’t look at each other, and they barely spoke. Yet Christina watched Robert’s eyes cut toward Penny from time to time. And then Penny would glance at him and a look would pass between them.

Robert didn’t look too good in this heat. He was overweight by a good thirty pounds, much of it in his belly. His face was red as he mopped his forehead every once in a while with a rag he’d picked up somewhere. Now that Christina had gotten a good look at him, she could better understand the attraction. Sure, he could stand to lose some weight and looked like a heart attack was right around the corner, but he also had a handsome face and thick dark hair with only a hint of silver at the temples.

Not to mention the way he’d leapt to Penny’s defense last night. A man willing to fight for your honor was always sexy.

Christina looked at the other occupants of the room. Donovan Taylor had been writing in a notebook for quite some time. Paul the bodyguard sat with his head against the wall and his eyes closed. The sixth person in their group was an amateur filmmaker who was not pleased to have been dragged from the Abu Bashar Hotel on the eve of the fall of Baq. He had his camera, a small thing that fit in one hand, but the SEALs had taken his battery away.

He looked forlorn, but really, what did he expect? That an active duty group of Special Operators—oh she was proud of herself for knowing what those terms meant—would allow him to film a secret mission? Not likely.

Next she looked at the SEALs who were in the room. There were six of them, the other three presumably working on something or other designed to help them leave this place later. She studied them each in turn—Alex Kamarov, Cash McQuaid, Corey Vance, Zack Anderson, Cody McCormick—before finally coming to the one she really wanted to study, Remy Marchand.

Remy was looking back at her, his blue eyes filled with heat, and her heart flipped. She hadn’t gotten to talk to him again after he’d left her a couple of hours ago. She hadn’t gotten to say anything else about his sister. She wanted to hug him tight and tell him how sorry she was for his loss.

My God, to lose his twin that way. Shot by her boyfriend on the steps of her parents’ house. Tragic and unfair.

Her eyes stung as she thought of it. His eyebrows lowered, and she knew that her discomfort must show on her face. So she thought instead about how much she’d liked kissing him and how wonderful it would have been if he’d stripped her clothes off and buried himself inside her.

His gaze sparked, and she knew that some of what she was thinking now must be showing on her face. Well, good. He didn’t need to see her sadness over his sister.

She thought about breaking the eye contact, but of course she didn’t do it. Sure, she felt a blush rising to her cheeks, but she did what she always did with Remy—she faced him boldly and told him without words precisely what she wanted.

She darted her tongue out to lick her lower lip.
Who was this woman?
It was such a naughty, ridiculous thing to do. She almost felt foolish, but then he stiffened slightly, his gaze narrowing to slits while his expression grew fierce.

A second later he was on his feet, striding toward her. She would have squeaked at the look on his face, but the truth was that he mesmerized her. And excited her. Her skin tingled, her heart pounded, and her body tightened.

He stopped beside her and held his hand out. “Need to talk to you, Miz Girard.”

Christina’s throat was drier than the desert outside these walls. Sweat trickled down the inside of her bra, and she felt like she’d never get the sand out of her clothes. But she gave him her best debutante smile and put her hand in his.

“Why of course,” she said, faltering at the last second and not saying his name the way she wanted. It seemed too intimate, especially in front of all these people. Too personal, as if she couldn’t say his name without letting everyone know how thoroughly he confused and aroused her.

He helped her up and then escorted her out of the room. She knew the SEALs were probably looking at them with interest. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t.

Remy held her hand as he led her away from the common room. The building was mostly abandoned, with empty rooms and wide-open windows that let hot air sweep in. But it was surprisingly cool in some parts of the house due to the angle of windows and the strength of the wind blowing through them.

Remy stopped in the hallway when they’d gone a distance and turned to face her. He put a palm to her cheek and then cupped her head with his big hand. When he crushed his mouth down on hers, she didn’t protest. No, she stood on tiptoe and grabbed his shirt in her fists.

His tongue was hot against hers. His lips were heaven. Oh God, she could kiss him forever like this. Who cared if the day was sweltering and dirty?

He pressed her against the wall and put a knee between her legs. Then he moved it, and the friction of her sex against that hard knee sent a lightning bolt of pleasure streaking through her.

“You’re a bad girl,” he whispered in her ear. “So bad.”

“Do you want to spank me, Remy?” she whispered back, her pulse hammering as adrenaline and desire raced through her system like fire through a parched field.

He laughed, a broken, beautiful sound of thwarted need. “Yeah, I do. And then I want to lick you and make it all better.”

She pulled him closer, but he resisted. Still his knee applied pressure right where she wanted it.

“I didn’t bring you out here for this,” he said. “Swear I didn’t.”

“I don’t care if you did.” She gasped as she pressed herself against him. She tried to pull his head down for another kiss, but he wouldn’t budge. She took a deep breath and then pushed against his chest until he took a step back.

He gripped her head gently and made her look up at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Not without you,” she said simply. She couldn’t read everything on his face, but she knew her answer surprised him.

“Okay,” he told her. Then he sucked in a breath. “I honestly didn’t bring you out here for a quick fuck. I wanted to kiss you, and then I wanted to talk to you without everyone listening in.”

“Well, that’s a disappointment, Remy Marchand.” Her voice was flat and he laughed.

“Can’t figure you out, sexy lady, that’s for sure.”

She sighed and ran her palms up the front of his shirt. “I’m sorry about your sister, Remy. I know that can’t be easy to talk about, but I appreciate your sharing it with me.”

He looked angry and sad at the same time. “I’d give anything to change it, but I can’t. Why didn’t I see what he was? I grew up with him, hunted and fished and hung out. And I never saw it. If I had…”

“Oh, honey,” she said, lifting up so she could kiss him again. Just a soft, sweet kiss. He didn’t try to make it into anything more. “It’s not your fault. It’s never anyone’s fault but the asshole who’s so fucked up he does something like that. You do know that, right?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again. “I try to remember it, but I’m still pissed I didn’t figure it out before it was too late.”

She stroked his jaw. “I understand.”

“And you understand why you can’t trust your ex? Why you don’t really know what he’s capable of?”

She didn’t think Ben was capable of that kind of violence, especially where she was concerned—but she understood Remy’s fear, and she wasn’t about to tell him different. “Yes, I understand. And I won’t let him inside my house again. I promise.”

He dropped his gaze down her body, lingering on her breasts. She knew what he saw through the thin material of her tank. Her nipples were still aroused from his kiss, still tight and thrusting against her shirt.

“Damn, what I wouldn’t give for an uninterrupted hour with you.” He cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on hers again. “It could be dangerous tonight, Christina. You need to know that. Things will probably happen fast once we get to Akhira. Until then, I need you to stay safe. Do what you’re told, stay down, don’t draw attention to yourself if we’re stopped.”

His words made her shiver. “Okay… Do you think we’ll be stopped?”

“It’s possible. But you’ll be safe, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you. None of us will.”

She thought that maybe there were some things he really couldn’t promise, but then she thought of his regret over his sister and knew she couldn’t say anything to the contrary.

“I know you won’t, Remy. I trust you.”

And she did. She knew he would do everything in his power to protect her. In that, he reminded her of Matt. Her brother had spent their childhood standing between her and their father. Being the one to take Beau Girard’s scorn, his moods and temper tantrums. His drunken rages. She’d never once taken a blow from her father. She’d had to bear angry words on occasion, but that was nothing in the scheme of things. Thanks to Matt, she’d been safe. And after Matt left for West Point, Granny had taken over, bless her.

When Christina got home—if she got home—she was telling him how much she appreciated that.

Remy tipped her chin up with a fist and studied her. “When we get home, I’m coming to your place the first chance I get. You are letting me in. No running away, Christina. If you intend to run, then you need to tell me now and stop pretending like you want more.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. Part of her still wanted to run—because what did she have that would keep him interested for more than a few weeks? And what would she do when he was done with her? It would hurt, dammit.

But she felt so alive when they were together. “I do want more.”

“So you’ll be there when this is over, right? No ignoring my calls or flying away on business trips.”

“I’ll be there—but my job involves travel so I might have to go. That doesn’t mean I won’t be back.”

“Good.”

“Is that all you wanted?”

His gaze slipped down over her again. “No, but it’s all I’m getting right now. Except you can tell me when you and Ivy Erikson became friends.”

Oh dear.
Apparently wine and girls’ night didn’t always go together. Or they did go together, but then the wine made her say things she ordinarily wouldn’t—and her friends repeated those revelations to their lovers and husbands.

“Dane knew about us, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “Found that out earlier when I went to tell him myself. I had to because Cash-Money caught us and my team needs to know that your presence could compromise my decisions. Turns out Viking already knew.”

She only focused on one part of that statement. “My presence could compromise your decisions?”

“Yes. Because I’m involved with you. Because, if it came down to it, who would I save?”

Her heart thumped. “You’d save me.”

“At what cost? That’s why my team needs to know.”

“Hopefully it won’t come down to that.”

“Hopefully. Now who else did you tell besides Ivy?”

“Um, all of them?” Her cheeks heated as his eyebrows went up. “What? Women talk. We discuss the men in our lives. Or the ones we’ve kicked out of our lives but sometimes wish we hadn’t. Stuff like that.”

And since she’d never really had close girlfriends growing up, she cherished the friendships she’d made with these women. Sure, Evie had been the one to bring her into the circle, but everyone was welcoming and supportive. She’d spilled the beans, and yes, she’d felt somewhat better afterward.

“You mean your sister-in-law knows? Holy shit.”

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell Matt. Oh, she’d tell him if you’d been the one to dump me and I was hurt—but she wasn’t about to tell him all the things I told her. You’re safe.”

He growled. “Safe? Do you think I couldn’t kick your brother’s ass if I had to?”

She almost giggled at the macho posturing. “I’m sure you could. Or maybe it’d be like that silly thing where two superheroes fight—didn’t they make a movie? Bat Dude versus Super Guy or something?”

“You’re being funny, aren’t you?”

She grinned. “Trying. Is it working?”

“Jesus, you’re cute. Yeah, it’s working. At least until we get back home and your brother comes at me with a roundhouse kick.”

She patted him. “He won’t. I swear.”

Though, to be perfectly honest, she didn’t really know that. Maybe she needed to talk to Evie first thing and make sure Matt still didn’t know. And then maybe she was going to have to tell him herself. Eventually. If it worked out.

“Cage,” a voice called, and she whipped her head around to see Viking standing at the other end of the passage, looking all big and bad and ready to kill something. He made her shiver, but not in the way Remy did. Still, he was married to Ivy, and Ivy was one cool—and badass—chick.

“Yeah, boss man?”

“Got some intel to discuss. When you get a chance.”

Remy hadn’t pushed her away like she was a guilty secret. That warmed her.

“Be right there.” Then he leaned down and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips. “You’re mine, baby girl.
Mine.
”