Navy SEAL Seduction (9 page)

“He’s related to one of the women I’m helping. Jean is her cousin. Why?”

He explained his suspicions about the red paint and how it was the same color as the messages on the wall.

“Someone could have taken it from the shed. It isn’t well guarded and sometimes they leave the paint outside. I’ve been after Jean to finish for two days.”

“He seems more interested in planting a tomato garden. Did it occur to you that the red paint he’s using for the shed has been used for the wall?”

Lacey sighed. “It couldn’t have been Jean. He doesn’t speak English, and he’s illiterate. He wouldn’t have done it, Jarrett. Why would he threaten me when I gave him a job?”

The arson indicated a professional. Still, he didn’t trust the man.

“Don’t let him sleep on the property anymore.” He pushed a stray lock of blond hair out of her face. “You’re a good manager, Lace, but you have a soft heart for the downtrodden. Keep that soft heart for the women.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’ll tell him to find lodging in town. What else did you want to discuss?”

“Lace, have you seen anyone or heard anyone in the compound who stuck out like he didn’t belong or was interested in your operations? Any guests you’ve given tours to lately?”

“I had a small group of donors from the States three weeks ago.” She pursed her full lips. “There was one guy who was with them who seemed interested in the shed and how we pack the jam for shipping. But he’s legit. Friend of a big donor. Why?”

“I found an incendiary device and the timer. Cell phone. Cell phone timers are popular with terrorists because they can remotely trigger bombs.”

The floral scent of her shampoo tickled his nostrils as she leaned close and whispered to him. “That’s crazy! Why would a terrorist be interested in my NGO?”

“Why would an illegal arms dealer be interested in donating?” He lightly clasped her shoulders. “Lacey, you’re the daughter of a US senator and former ambassador to this country. Even if you aren’t political, your father is. And I’m certain he made enemies here in St. Marc.”

“There are lots of ex-pats more politically connected than me,” she pointed out. “My friend Helen, Sally’s mom, is married to a well-known UN diplomat. She’s the one you’ll meet this afternoon when you take Fleur to Sally’s house. And sabotaging their businesses or their homes would make more of a statement, if this is political.”

“Augustin could have sent someone to scout out the compound, target you where you were most vulnerable. It’s gone beyond chickens and painted threats, sweetheart.” Jarrett braced himself mentally for her protests. “After today you should leave and take Fleur someplace else.”

“For Fleur’s sake, I would. But what about Rose? And the women who live here? Work here?”

She folded her arms and stared at the building. “This is their world, Jarrett. They have no place else to go. They can’t go back to their families. If something else happens around here and the compound shuts down, they’ll be on the streets.”

“If something bad happens to you, the compound will shut down and they
will
be on the streets.”

“Collette can take over. But I have to let them know I’m strong and I won’t let these vandals drive me away. I’m not only their director, Jarrett. I’m a role model.”

He said nothing, only listened, sensing she needed to get this out.

“When they first came here, they were beaten, not just physically, but emotionally. I taught them to be confident, that their lives have worth after all they’ve heard for years that they aren’t worth anything. I taught them that a real man doesn’t hit a woman, ever.”

Her gaze shining, she studied him. “I told them about you.”

Stunned, he blinked at her. “Me?”

“We might be divorced, but you always treated me with respect, Jarrett. You taught me how to shoot a gun and defend myself from attackers, too. I told them how I was married to a man who could kill enemy soldiers with his bare hands, but he never raised a hand to me. Not during the times when we argued or any other time. He valued my opinion and he treated me like an equal. And that is what real men do.”

At a loss for words, he pondered her words. He’d been seen as a role model, among the teams, among the men who accompanied him on missions, but as one for battered women? And to know Lace still held him in high regard...

“Real men stay married and stay committed,” he said quietly, watching her face to gauge her reaction.

A shadow entered her eyes. “Divorce isn’t one-sided, Jarrett. I’m the one who broke it off. But even that didn’t change my opinion of you. Even what my father said never changed my opinion of you.”

A tiny flicker of hope blinked on and off. Maybe they still could make it work. And then he remembered he wasn’t here to patch things up with his ex. He was here to haul her out, get her home where he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore.

“You still remember those self-defense moves I taught you?”

Lacey nodded.

Her gaze softened. “You taught me a lot, Jarrett. I still know how to pick locks. That skill has come in handy a few times when I managed to lock myself out.”

She grinned and his pulse kicked up a notch. Unable to resist, he cupped her face with his hand, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek. “I still have a few moves I could teach you.”

Lacey’s eyes closed as he kept stroking her face. Her long lashes feathered her cheeks and she made a little humming sound of pleasure he remembered well. She was enjoying this.

So was he.

Opening her eyes, she pulled away. “I have work to do before Paul gets here.”

Watching her walk off toward her office, he rubbed a hand over his face. He was committed to staying with Lacey and safeguarding her and her daughter until he could hustle them out of here.

Unstable governments, risky missions, hell, he was a SEAL and used to danger. There was always a plan, and always his training to fall back upon.

But nothing in his military career ever prepared him for this—keeping his ex at a distance and not falling for her all over again, screwing up this relationship any more than it was already screwed up.

* * *

A while later Jarrett joined Lacey in the living room to meet her business partner, Paul Lawrence. The man hadn’t impressed him when he’d seen him in the hotel. Up close, he was less impressive.

Jarrett stretched out his legs and gave the man a long, cool look. Paul wore an Italian tailored gray business suit and had thinning brown hair and watery blue eyes. After listening to the man for ten minutes, he disliked him intensely. Paul was condescending and slick, the smooth oiliness of his voice grating on Jarrett’s nerves as he talked about how his family had come from a long line of distinguished notables in St. Marc. Nothing against the guy’s family tree, but Paul definitely had an attitude about Americans.

Odd that he’d agreed to partner with one.

When Jarrett asked him about it as Lacey went into her office to get papers, Paul shrugged. “Alex Stewart is a good friend and a good businessman. And when Lacey asked to partner with me, I felt I owed it to my friend.”

Hmm. “I heard that your coffee business was running out of money and you were operating in the red, desperate for a cash influx. Odd, too. It was profitable for a long time and suddenly you owed money. Lots of money.”

The man’s gaze flicked to the left. Then Lawrence gave a philosophical shrug. “Times were hard. And I welcomed the opportunity to work with my friend’s daughter and give her a head start on her charity. She has done much good in this region of St. Marc.”

Right. “You like going to Île du Paradis?”

At the mention of the ritzy resort on St. Marc’s northern coast, the man swallowed hard and tugged at his tie. “I have friends who live near there. It is a very nice resort when one wants to get away.”

It was also a haven for gamblers. According to Ace, Lawrence had lost money at the roulette wheel. A lot of money.

Lawrence abruptly changed the subject. “Enough of me, Mr. Adler. I am worried for Lacey. I have told her for weeks that the country is not safe and she should leave.”

Interesting. Why was the man concerned in Lacey leaving? Beads of sweat dotted Lawrence’s upper lip. It was warm, but not that warm. Jarrett studied the way his jugular throbbed.

“It isn’t safe here in the country or inside Lacey’s compound?”

Lawrence’s gaze darted away and he removed a neatly pressed handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his perspiring brow. “Why are you here, Mr. Adler?”

A question to answer a question. Typical evasive tactic. “Take off your jacket. You seem warm,” he suggested.

“I am fine. But I am worried for Lacey.”

“Why do you want her to leave when her daughter is still here and can’t yet emigrate to the United States? Isn’t Lacey your business partner? Are you leaving, too?”

“So many questions. She is a woman, alone, living in this big compound without a man to protect her or help her run her charity.”

“Lacey’s done fine by herself. She doesn’t need help.”

“But women on this island are treated differently. They do not have the same respect as men, and men working for them will not listen to them. With the growing violence, how can she protect herself and her daughter?”

Jarrett didn’t like the thread of this conversation.

“She’s not alone. I’m here.” He narrowed his eyes and sat up. “And anyone who thinks about hurting a hair on her head, or Fleur’s, or anyone else living within the walls of this complex, has to deal with me.”

Paul’s gaze flicked down to the sidearm now holstered at Jarrett’s right hip. “It is good Lacey has you to look after her.”

Lacey returned with papers, and Paul signed them. As Lacey and Paul discussed exporting the coffee shipments to Miami, Jarrett watched Lacey’s animated face. Wistfully he remembered when she used to light up like that around him, when they had one of their late-night conversations in the kitchen, sharing a glass of milk and a plate of cookies when he couldn’t sleep, the haunting images of war flicking through his mind like a PowerPoint display.

Back then, every time he woke up, and no matter how quiet he’d been, she’d awaken, as well. She’d sit with him in the kitchen, encouraging him to sip warm milk and talking about everyday things he’d missed while on an op. Gradually, she’d get him to loosen up, come out of the semicoma state he’d retreated into for self-protection.

By the time Paul extended his hand for Jarrett to shake goodbye, he’d done his own sizing up.

“You believe in more than office work.” Jarrett took his hand and turned it over, exposing the palm. “Your hands are rough, calloused, like a laborer.”

When he glanced at the man’s face, Lawrence was sweating again. But then he smiled. “I have an affinity for gardening. It keeps my mind off troubling matters these days, and I find it relaxing.”

Jarrett flashed an equally chilling smile as the man jerked his hand away. “There are many troubling matters these days. I find it most troubling when someone puts up a front to hide what he truly is, like a snake hiding in the grass. But I’m very good at uncovering snakes.”

Lawrence turned to Lacey. “Excuse me, my dear, but I must leave. First, I need to check on the mango factory and see how Marie is faring.”

“Marie?” Jarrett tensed. “Why? Hasn’t she been traumatized enough?”

“Paul has been very generous and he’s letting Marie stay in a small house on a piece of property he owns near here. It’s a house he rents out to coffee factory employees for a very low fee,” Lacey said tightly.

“It is the least I can do. I wish to find houses for all the women since it’s apparent we cannot find funding to build them homes here on the land you own, Lacey.” Paul gave a very Gallic shrug.

When Paul left the house, Lacey turned to Jarrett, anger flashing on her face.

“You all but called him a snake! He’s my business partner. Give it a rest, Jarrett. Not every single man is a threat. So he has rough hands. He told you, he likes to garden.”

“That man hasn’t held a spade or a fork a day in his life. And if he has gardened, it’s not something as benign as growing tomatoes and cucumbers.”

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Lawrence. But his well-honed instincts warned the man wasn’t aboveboard. He might be cheating Lacey out of profits. Or worse...

CHAPTER 8

J
arrett’s bald opinion of her business partner sent all Lacey’s instincts on full alert. Her guard was already up, for Paul hadn’t brought the latest profit and loss statements for her perusal.

He kept stalling, and that worried her, especially after the rumors she’d heard that wages were being cut at the factory.

She headed for the mango processing building, Jarrett trailing behind her.

“You don’t have to tail me.”

“Sweetheart, get used to it. While I’m here, consider me your shadow, especially after what happened last night.” Jarrett reached the building and held the door open for her.

In the main room where the women sliced the mangoes, another worker sat by herself at a small table, using a hand press to squeeze out juice from the leftover pieces of fruit not good enough for canning. Lacey was disturbed to see it was Marie, the latest arrival. She lived in the house once inhabited by Jacqueline. Lacey had found Marie two weeks ago by the market, dirty, one eye swollen, begging for food. Marie’s boyfriend had beaten her up and kicked her out of his house.

The woman was gradually beginning to open up. Lacey made a point of checking on her frequently, for although Marie was slower at cutting the fruit than the other women, she had determination and willingness to learn.

Lacey beckoned to Collette, who was supervising another woman. Her manager approached, her clipboard in hand and the ever-present yellow pencil she used to write notes.

“Why is Marie sitting by herself at the juicing table?” Lacey asked in French.

Collette shrugged. “She is nervous. I put her at a table by herself because she makes the others nervous, as well, and they are slower to produce.”

“Put her back with the others. I don’t want her isolated, even if they slow down. She needs to socialize and be with other women.”

“We need to increase production since we lost the jam to the fire.” With her pencil, Collette pointed to the piles of fruit. “And what about the orders you were supposed to fill?”

The restaurants had paid in advance for her product, but Lacey had already thought of that. “Use the crates I have stored in the guesthouse pantry. There’s enough.”

Surprise flicked in the other woman’s eyes. “I did not know you have extras.”

“Now you do. I always have backup in case an order needs to be expedited.”

Collette nodded, but her gaze kept flicking to Jarrett.
Tap, tap, tap
. The pencil hit her clipboard with increasing intensity.

Jarrett moved away, making his way through the shop.

“He should not be here. He makes the women nervous, as well,” Collette murmured.

The other women gave her ex quick glances, but in those looks she didn’t see fear, only curiosity.

“They’re not afraid of him. And there is nothing to fear. Jarrett is a good man,” she told her manager.

Lacey headed for Jarrett, who reached Marie. She jumped up with a little cry and spilled the tub of mango juice.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Marie wailed, righting the tub with hands that shook badly. “It’s going to go all over the place!”

“Easy,” Jarrett said in French. “It was an accident. My fault. I startled you.”

Tugging his shirt over his head with one hand, he mopped up the spilled mango juice. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Miss Lacey will be so upset.” Her breathing rapid and her pulse jumping, Marie wrung her hands. The fear in the woman’s eyes broke Lacey’s heart.

She touched Marie’s arm. “Miss Lacey is not upset. Accidents happen. As long as you’re all right. You okay?”

“Yes, Miss Lacey.” Marie sat, her hands still trembling.

“Miss Collette is going to put you back with the other women cutting fruit.”

“I’m not as fast as they are,” Marie whispered. “I am too slow.”

“I was slow once. But sometimes slow is good, because it allows you to learn. The important thing is to not give up,” Jarrett told Marie.

She gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

Collette rushed over. “Marie, go sit next to Paulette. She will show you how to select the fruit for canning.”

The woman left, murmuring apologies all over again. Collette’s pencil beat hard against the clipboard.

“I could have handled the spill,” Collette said in English.

“I’m sure you could have, but it wasn’t necessary, since I was closer. And I’m the one who startled her,” Jarrett said.

Her ex was polite, but his tone frosty. And Collette’s dislike of Jarrett seemed obvious. Was it because Collette resented a man taking charge?

She studied her manager. Collette never had an attitude problem. She had always been friendly and respectful, if not direct. But sometimes power, even a position of managing others, went to your head.

With a little nod, Collette headed toward her office.

Jarrett sighed as he held out the stained T-shirt. “Hope you have a laundry around here.”

“Leave it here. One of the women will wash it better than I ever could.” Desire curled through her body as she studied his naked chest. “We have to find you a new shirt. ASAP.”

His gaze gleamed. “What’s the hurry? I’m enjoying how you keep staring at me.”

Heat suffused her face as they walked to her house. In the kitchen Jarrett opened the refrigerator as if he lived there, removed two bottles of water and handed her one. He opened his and took several long gulps.

Lacey uncapped hers and drank, amused to see beads of sweat on his forehead. Maybe she was sweating because he was damn fine to look at, but he was, as well.

“Look at you, tough guy. I made you perspire.”

He rolled the cold bottle over his forehead and didn’t return her smile. “I’ve been in combat and faced tough sitches before, Lace. But seeing the look on Marie’s face, damn. What happened to her?”

“Her boyfriend beat her up. And then he enjoyed using her to put out his cigarettes. Did you see the burns on her arm? I’m trying to make her feel comfortable and safe, and let her gain some confidence. She sorely needs it.”

Everything she worked so hard for here on the compound was directed for these women. But it still scraped her raw, knowing what they had suffered.

“That kind of thing makes me mad as hell. You’re doing a good job here. You’re giving them hope for a better tomorrow.”

His quiet praise and his intensity jolted her. Jarrett had always been intense, but this was a different side he’d seldom shown. “I’m trying with what little I have. It isn’t enough.”

“You’re doing more than what most people would, Lace.” He finished the water and braced his hands on the counter, staring at the cabinets. “There’s a lot of evil in this world. Sometimes I wish I had been able to do more.”

She could almost see the images dancing about in his mind of the nasty things he’d seen, and what he’d been forced to confront. She put a gentle hand on his arm.

“There are evil people in this world. And the good ones, like you, Jarrett. Every time I turn on the news and see how evil people are, I close my eyes and remember the ones like you who sacrifice all to keep us safe.”

“I was gone a lot. I shortchanged you on our marriage.” He turned and looked at her. Lacey’s throat closed up. She drank more water and began tearing the label off her bottle.

“I wasn’t shortchanged on our marriage. I knew I had to share you with the Navy. And the Navy is a demanding mistress. Maybe if I’d had something like this NGO, I could have hung in there after I lost the baby. The baby was my purpose, this tiny little life I carried inside me. My purpose was protecting her, keeping her thriving and alive. And I failed.”

He put his hand on her wrist, staying her from peeling off the rest of the label. “I’m sorry I let you down when I left you. I was always focusing on the job and when I was home, I failed to focus on you.”

Words she’d longed to hear years ago after she’d miscarried. But she’d grown, and knew he wasn’t solely to blame. “We let each other down, Jarrett. We lost each other along the way.”

Silence draped between them for a moment as he turned around to stare out the kitchen window. She allowed herself to look her fill of Jarrett.

Jarrett was a big guy, tall and intimidating when you first met him. Every inch of him gleamed with muscle and sinew. Her hungry gaze wandered up his spine to the twin muscles dividing his back and her heart jerked to a halt.

She gently traced the three silvery scars with a finger. They looked like bullet wounds.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I survived.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter. I spent a month Stateside at the Walter Reed hospital.”

“Did anyone look after you?”

A shrug. “My buddies looked after me, and my CO stopped in to visit when he could.”

No girlfriend. Jarrett would have mentioned it.

Lacey’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t been there for him when he recovered, hadn’t been there to hold his hand at the hospital, to make him laugh about the lousy food or encourage him when he got restless and wanted to go home because he hated being sick.

Her exploring fingers went to the blue ink swirling around his broad right shoulder. The intricate pattern of curlicues intrigued her. This, too, was new.

“Where did you get this?”

His troubled green gaze met hers. “After a tour of Afghanistan, I headed to Singapore for R&R. Ink shop a buddy recommended. I wanted flames. But he made it too pretty.”

The design was beautiful and elegant. “Why flames?”

Jarrett turned around, a hank of dark hair spilling into his face. “Because I wanted a reminder of the hell I’d been through.”

“The hell of all the missions you served?”

“The hell of how I felt after you left me, Lace, and the divorce came through.” His mouth tensed. “And maybe a reminder, as well, of the hell I’d put you through all those times I left you.”

They’d both been there and back. “Hell is a two-way street, Jarrett. You’re not solely to blame.”

He rubbed a knuckle along her cheek, and the touch, combined with the tenderness in his eyes, made her toes curl. Not mere lust, it was something deeper and more lasting. Connection.

Lacey turned. They’d had connection before, but that bond broke. “I need a shower. I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen and give you directions on where to drive Fleur. She’s going to a friend’s house after school. She and Sally have a playdate.”

“Lace,” he said quietly. “Don’t be afraid of me. Of us.”

But she’d had too much fear, too many disappointments, to erase them. She ran upstairs.

Glad she had her own private bathroom, Lacey stripped and headed for the boxlike shower. She twisted the spigot to full blast, not caring that she was wasting precious water. Lacey scrubbed her body and soaped her hair. Tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with the water.

No one ever heard you cry in the shower.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, something swung from the spinning ceiling fan. Her bra. A grudging laugh fled her. Trust her ex to do something to make her laugh and chase away the brooding intensity of remembering their past.

Lacey snatched it and dressed in a floral skirt and a white peasant blouse and slipped her bare feet into sandals.

Jarrett waited on the landing outside her room, a smug grin on his face. His dark hair damp, he wore a pair of clean navy blue cargo shorts and a button-down white shirt slightly open at the throat. He looked sexy and impish and her heart skipped a beat.

“Same old prank, Adler. Can’t think of anything original?”

“It worked to get your attention all those times when we were married.” Heat glinted his gaze. “You look very pretty, Lace.”

He leaned closer, his gaze growing intent. She lifted her face. When he pressed his lips against hers, she slid her arms around his neck.

He maneuvered her backward, into her bedroom. Lacey felt the backs of her knees connect with the mattress and fell onto the bed, still kissing him. Jarrett levered himself atop her, tunneling his fingers through her hair.

“You smell so damn good,” he murmured, nibbling at her neck. “Like fresh apples and flowers.”

His palm skimmed up her body, cupped her breast. Lacey moaned as he began to knead her breast. She felt hot and hungry and needy.

A door opened downstairs. Instantly, he moved off her, his gaze sharpened. “Stay here.”

The old Jarrett, wary and alert. Then a voice called out. “Miss Lacey? You home? I’m back from the market and I’m going to start dinner.”

She threw a hand over her forehead and sighed. Jarrett relaxed and shot her a wry grin.

“Lousy timing,” he murmured.

Tell me about it.
She glanced at the bedside clock. “You’d better go. Fleur’s school lets out soon.”

Jarrett trailed a finger down her cheek, making her shiver. “Rain check.”

Rain check? How about a snowy day in hell check because letting her libido take control was a bad idea. Sex with Jarrett had always been great, incredible, mind-blowing, but it also had been a way for them to bond and connect.

She didn’t want or need to bond with her ex-husband. He wasn’t a one-night stand who would satisfy her body’s sexual needs.

He was a man who could break her heart all over again if she let him get close enough.