Navy SEAL Seduction (17 page)

CHAPTER 15

A
t 2300, Jarrett put Operation Sneak ’N’ Peek into action.

Sam and Gene had returned to the compound. The capital was tense, with military vehicles forming roadblocks on the main road. They had made it out only because Sam had greased a few palms with the cash Lacey had given him for the security cameras.

Dressed in black long-sleeved shirts and trousers, dark greasepaint over their faces, he and Sam planned their visit to Paul Lawrence’s house. And if Lawrence happened to be home, well, the man would wake up to a nice little session of Q&A, answers provided courtesy of Jarrett’s Sig Sauer. Gene would remain behind with the now-sleeping Lacey and guard the house.

Spreading out on the dining room table the map of St. Marc that showed the location of Paul Lawrence’s house, he circled the target with a red pen. Several photos Lacey had taken of a cocktail party at Lawrence’s house were also strewn over the table.

“We’ll park a distance away and go through the woods to the perimeter. Lacey told me Lawrence did have cameras around the property that’ll have to be disabled. No dogs. Razor wire fence.”

“Snip, snip,” Sam said.

“The house has a wraparound balcony and French doors in the guest bedroom where Lacey stayed once. Best point of access. Gene, did you find anything out about his staff?”

“Lawrence had a cook, a maid and a butler, but not anymore. His wife is also gone. She divorced him two years ago and went to live in Paris.”

He couldn’t do this alone. He needed a team.

Teamwork. It’s what made the SEALs strong and successful in many missions. Jarrett had served hundreds of combat missions and had been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan several times. He had enough fruit salad on his chest to show his valor. But all those medals meant nothing compared to the welfare of his teammates.

As they prepared their weapons, Sam whistled at the sight of the HK MP7a1 submachine gun. “Sweet. You use that baby on the teams?”

Jarrett nodded and sighed. “Man, I’m gonna miss the adrenaline thrill when I leave the teams.”

“Thinking about retiring?” Sam asked.

Jarrett checked his pistol. “Yeah. The ops tempo is grinding away at me.”

It killed my marriage, too. Hell, I can’t blame the job, it was me, as well.

“The stress of constantly being deployed or away from home. I understand.” Gene shook his head. “One reason I left the military. Still, I miss the action and the excitement. We thought about forming our own security company, but guarding paunchy executives as they travel overseas or arrogant diplomats isn’t the same.”

Sam nodded. “Maybe if we had a company that had another purpose, and made us feel like we did when we were in the military, that would suffice. But it would have to be a damn good purpose. One reason we took Stewart’s assignment. Protecting that sweet little girl, checking her six as she’s in school, that makes it worthwhile. Not standing guard while some braggart diplomat circulates at cocktail parties and social functions.”

A security firm with purpose. Not mercenaries, hired out for a contract to make money, but something deeper and more fulfilling.

Something to think about.

Jarrett nodded. “Let’s roll.”

He and Sam climbed into Sam’s SUV and headed south.

Parking a half mile away on a side street, they hoisted the packs over their shoulders and went through the woods.

But when they reached the eight-foot-tall stone wall ringing Lawrence’s property, the razor wire had been cut and the housing to the security camera had been smashed. Someone had already been here.

Vandals maybe. But Jarrett had a strong feeling it was not.

They made it to the second-story balcony and Jarrett tested the French doors. They opened easily.

The guest bedroom was a blizzard of ripped pillows, an overturned mattress and china figurines smashed on the plush carpeting. All the bureau drawers were pulled out and on the floor.

They went through the rest of the house. Chairs were overturned, drawers opened and furniture ripped open.

In the master bedroom Jarrett went to one of the cushions and saw a white powdery dust. Dread filled him as he stroked his finger across it and then tasted a tiny sample. His tongue immediately went numb.

“Sweet hellfire, that’s pure gold.”

Lawrence’s little problem wasn’t gambling, but cocaine. No wonder profits from the coffee business had dried up. They went straight to Lawrence’s nose.

“St. Marc used to be a haven for smuggling. They’d drop shipments from planes into the mountains and then smuggle them to Florida. I have a feeling the military coup is backed up by heavy drug money. The former regime running this island once allowed a plane from Colombia to land on the national highway to deliver a load of coke.” Sam investigated an overturned drawer. “I’d say this is where your wife’s business partner ran into his cash problem.”

She’s not my wife.
Words died on his tongue. The bigger issue was waving an enormous red flag in his face. Was Lawrence aiming to drive Lacey away because he’d wanted to take over Lacey’s mango business?

It didn’t make sense. Even if the charity was operating in the red, the money wouldn’t be enough to suffice.

“He’s hiding if he owes that much money.” Sam looked around.

Jarrett went into the master suite closet. All of Lawrence’s clothing was gone. The man had packed and left. But where did he go?

The downstairs was also chaotic. In the kitchen the refrigerator had been opened and the contents emptied. Milk soured on the floor. Jarrett sidestepped the mess and saw the corner of a white envelope sticking out between the refrigerator and cabinets. He drew it out and blew off the dust.

Sam leaned close and frowned at the shaky handwriting with Lacey’s name on it. Whoever tore up the house must have missed this.

Jarrett pulled his bandanna over the lower half of his face then slit open the envelope with a knife. After the anthrax scares in DC, he always took precautions. Inside was a crisp sheet of elegant ecru stationery, but the note penned upon the paper was written in a shaky hand in French. He read aloud.

“Lacey, get out of St. Marc while you can. Things are heating up and I’m in real trouble. I got involved in a risky business venture and I’m over my head because I owe a lot to the wrong people. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or your daughter. Paul.”

It was almost as good as a spoken confession. Yet a tingle raced down his spine. It seemed too pat.

“Looks like Lawrence killed Caroline and was the one trying to scare away Lacey,” Sam said.

“Maybe.” Jarrett tucked the envelope into his pocket.

When they returned to Lacey’s house, Jarrett called Ace on his secure cell and told him what they’d found. “How are things? Fleur okay?”

“She’s fine but it’s not good, Ice. The President of the United States is trying to negotiate with General Montana to get him to step aside and end this coup peacefully before our guys storm the castle.” A pause on the other end. “You and I may be called back in.”

Damn. “How are the negotiations?”

“Cautious, from what I hear.” Another deep pause. “Senator Stewart has POTUS’s ear on this. He’s pushing for military intervention. Thought you should know.”

A chill raced down his spine. He hated knowing Lacey’s dad was involved in any of this, because as long as Senator Stewart’s daughter resided on St. Marc soil, she remained vulnerable.

And a different kind of target. What if some happy military honcho decided to take her hostage?

“What are the chances of a full-scale invasion?” It was a huge risk, sending in US forces.

“The current US ambassador to St. Marc is delaying his retirement. He’s in DC, trying to get the POTUS to negotiate instead of invade. He doesn’t want St. Marc to become a US-occupied territory.”

And the possibility was very real. Jarrett shoved a hand through his hair. He had to stand ready if he was called. But that meant leaving Lacey here, alone.

Just like he had when she’d lost the baby.

* * *

For the next two days Jarrett remained vigilant listening to the radio reports and shoring up the compound. He constantly patrolled, this time carrying the assault rifle he’d stored in his weapons duffel. While he remained with Lacey, Gene and Sam went out during the day to gather information on the streets, and try to find out any intel on Paul Lawrence’s disappearance.

Grateful for his presence, Lacey listened to the radio, as well, trying not to fret that the situation was growing progressively worse in the capital. She called her worried father and assured him she was safe and all was fine.

Many Americans had already left the island and Fleur’s school had canceled classes. But she was relieved to hear Fleur had loosened up a little and was preoccupied with playing with Aimee’s twins.

Rose remained with her family, having obtained permission from Lacey. In light of the circumstances, she knew how worried her housekeeper was about her aging mother and father, so she gave her an advance on her paycheck and told her to take five days off.

Lacey set aside groceries at the guesthouse for Gene and Sam, and then stockpiled food for herself and Jarrett and the women in the compound. Most of the women who lived outside the compound hadn’t shown up for work. She didn’t blame them, for tensions were growing and there were more roadblocks set out by citizens angered that their new president wasn’t yet in power.

She worked with the women on the compound to stock the mango salsa and marmalade. Collette had telephoned, apologizing for not showing up for work, as well, for she wanted to sit tight with her family. Half the town was in siege mentality.

She and Jarrett fell into an easy rhythm with each other and their daily routine, much like the kind they shared during their marriage. Yet this was better and more comfortable than their marriage because it lacked the previous tension. She realized why as she went over the accounts for Marlee’s Mangoes.

When she and Jarrett had been married, she relied upon their relationship and her role as a wife to feel complete. Now she had achieved that on her own. They had made love constantly, and each time she lay in his arms afterward, wondering what she’d do when he left. He’d ingrained himself into her heart again, and it would be damn hard to cut him loose.

The third day after the coup d’état began, she woke early, showered in the downstairs bathroom and prepared a breakfast of fresh mangoes and oatmeal. Lacey heard humming from the upstairs bathroom and went to investigate.

A white towel slung around his lean waist, Jarrett stood at the bathroom mirror, scraping the bristles off his lean cheeks with a razor. Steam misted the air, and droplets of water slicked his tight washboard abs. Her mouth watered. Forget breakfast. Here was a much more tempting sight. The man was all sleek muscle and sinew.

He gave terrific back rubs.

And great front rubs, too, she recalled with a delicious shiver.

As he finished, wiping his face with a towel, she entered the bathroom. He turned, his green gaze glinting as he caught her expression.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs. But I’m hungry for something else.”

Lacey undressed and dropped her clothing on the bathroom floor. As he started to speak, she put a finger to his mouth. Then her fingers caught the edge of the towel and yanked.

Jarrett stood nude before her, bared to all his glory. And oh, so glorious. He was half-erect. She knelt on the bathroom mat and took him in her hand.

“Lace.” His voice went husky.

“Hush. My mamma told me to never talk with my mouth full.” She licked the rounded head, swirling her tongue as if he was the most delicious chocolate ice cream. Jarrett leaned against the sink and groaned.

Taking him full into her mouth, she watched him, eyes closed in ecstasy, one hand gripping the sink, the other hand fisted in her hair. She loved doing this, loved seeing this big, bad SEAL in her power, knowing how she could pleasure him.

Lacey dragged her nails over his skin, enjoying the slightly salty taste of him and hearing his grunts of pleasure, and how he remained absolutely still, letting her set the pace. And then he tensed and with a loud moan, he climaxed.

Satisfaction filled her as she stood, wiping her mouth. Eyes closed, he leaned against the sink, panting. Then his eyes flew open.

“Turnabout is fair, Lace,” he muttered.

Squealing, she fled the bathroom, but he picked her up and slung her over one shoulder. Jarrett marched over to the bed and dumped her there. He took the belt from her robe and tied her wrists together. Naked, she wriggled on the bed, her skin tight with delicious anticipation. Then worry shaded his expression as he paused.

“You okay with this?”

Her heart turned over. Jarrett was always considerate, worried he might hurt her with his considerable strength. Lacey waggled her fingers. “I’m a big girl, sailor. I can take whatever you dish out.”

Sensual heat turned his gaze dark. “I can dish out a lot, sweetheart. Prepare for a full frontal assault.”

He looped the belt around the headboard, stretching her arms above her head, but with enough slack on the belt to make her comfortable. Jarrett’s gaze darkened as he leaned over her.

“I could have used zip ties, but you know how to break free from those.”

“Because you taught me.” Lacey licked her lips. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“I’m going to be so deep inside you you’ll feel me every time you walk, and you’ll remember me for days.” Jarrett took a pillow and gently placed it under her hips. “But first, I need breakfast, too.”

She studied the bristles shadowing his jaw, muscles rippling beneath his flawless skin, the hard curve of his shoulder, the muscled contour of his long limbs.

A pulse jumped madly at his throat. He smelled of sex and long, dark nights spent tangled in passion.

Expression fierce with intent, Jarrett knelt between her outstretched thighs. His gaze gleamed with appreciation as he studied her.

He slid down her body, kissing her belly, laving his tongue inside the indent of her navel. The sweep of his tongue felt like wet, rough velvet. Then he settled between her thighs.