Protected by a SEAL: Hot SEALs (Volume 5) (13 page)

Rick kneeled on the floor and opened the duffle. Finally, Sierra got a look at what was making it so heavy. It looked as if he’d raided a gun store. Who knows? Maybe he had. She wouldn’t be surprised by anything this man did anymore.

He slipped a holster over his arms and shoved a pistol into it. He’d apparently upgraded from just the leg holster.

Next he pulled out the device his friends had brought to her hotel room that morning.

God, had it really been only that morning they’d discovered the camera in the bathroom? So much had happened since then it felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’m going to check the first floor. Stay here.” He pinned her with his tough guy glare.

Sierra delivered a salute in response to Rick’s order. “Yes, sir.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up before he reached out and adjusted the angle of the hand she held over her right brow. “It’s more like this. I’ll be right back.”

She watched as he made his way to the back of the house and into a kitchen area divided from the living room by an island. Glancing down, she evaluated his duffle bag and its contents one more time and drew in a breath.

What was she supposed to do for clothes or other basic necessities like a toothbrush? It was pretty obvious Rick’s packing had consisted of raiding some armory somewhere.

Roger might have been right when he said it was likely GAPS was staffed by former military. These guys probably had all served in some branch of service, at least for a couple of years. Long enough to get the scary gun-toting dude look down pat.
 

Rick reappeared in the room, interrupting her ponderings. “First floor is clear.”

“Oh, well, thank God for that.” She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of his search for bugs or bombs or whatever else.

She doubted her stalker’s reach extended to a shack they’d rented only hours prior, located on an island accessible only by boat.

He ignored her sarcasm and headed toward the staircase. “I’m going upstairs. “Don’t—”

“Don’t move. I know. I got it.” She made sure the fact she was humoring him while mocking him was apparent in her tone.

She did, however, resist the urge to remind him that any bad guy could easily bust through the front door and grab her from the very spot he’d ordered her to remain.

He was already up the staircase so he wouldn’t have heard anyway. The man’s legs were so damn long, he took the stairs two at a time.

Rick was back again in a moment. “Clear.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Of course, it was. Hey, do you think there’s a nail place on the island? I need a mani/pedi.”

He lifted his brows high. “You’re not going out for a mani/pedi.”

“But—“

“No. I’ll paint your damn nails if you need but no going out.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Why? You a cross-dresser?” Given the size of him, that was a ridiculous image.

“No. I used to build models when I was younger. Painting is painting. Doesn’t matter if it’s the fine detail work on the 1965 Cobra, or your little piggies. I used to polish my high school girlfriend’s toes all the time.”

This day just got weirder as time passed. “Never mind. I’ll survive.”

“Good. I’m getting the rest of the stuff out of the car.”

“There’s more stuff?”

“Yeah. A cooler full of food so we don’t have to go out and your suitcase and carry-on.”

Her eyes widened. “My suitcase? How did you get that? When?”

“We were already packing you up to move to another hotel. Jon brought your stuff over while you were being questioned at the police station. Same time I stocked up on food.”

That made sense but one thing didn’t. “When did you, you know, arm up?”

“Arm up? Where’d you get that term from? Some script?” He lifted his brows high. When she scowled at him all he did was laugh. “Darci brought me my things from home.”

“You have all that . . .
stuff
lying around your house?” She eyed the bag of weaponry.

“Not lying around. In a secure gun safe with a lock. I gave Darci the combination.” He paused, keeping his focus on her. “You have a problem with guns?”

“No. I was just wondering.”

“Good.” He drew in a breath and looked around. “It’s not so bad here you know.”

“No? It looks like the furniture is from 1979.” She hadn’t lived through the seventies but she’d seen enough TV shows and movies set then to know this place fit the bill for that era.

“So, things are a little dated. It’s neat and it’s clean. Even the bathrooms and kitchen look immaculate.”

So he hadn’t been just looking for bugs of the surveillance nature. Rick had evaluated the cleanliness of his prized rental as well. Probably so she wouldn’t complain.

There was still plenty she could find to be unhappy with. The sofa cushions, in a putrid nubby avocado green fabric, looked like they’d been stuffed with lumpy potatoes. She could only imagine what the mattresses looked like.

She looked up in time to see Rick shaking his head at her. “Get used to the place, princess. I’m going to the car to get our stuff.”

“Fine.”

Little did he know she would have offered to help, at least with her own suitcase. But he’d ordered her to stay put, so she was staying put. That would teach him a lesson to not be such a tyrant.

While he struggled with whatever was hidden away in the car, Sierra decided to see for herself what horrors her accommodations held. She’d only gone a few steps toward the kitchen before a wall of windows faced her. Beyond the salt-frosted glass an endless vista of water stretched, blue and sparkling beneath the rays of the sun.

“Not so bad now, huh?” Rick had somehow snuck up on her.

She turned away from the view. “It is beach front. Just like you said.”

He held a large cooler, which he set heavily onto the long wooden table that was in front of the window. Sierra wasn’t sure she was up for what he’d brought for them to eat. Probably beef jerky or some other manly treat.

To her surprise, he pulled out a carton of eggs and one of milk, bacon, lettuce, deli packages of cold cuts and some really big steaks. He glanced up and caught her watching him. “There’s a couple of grocery bags still in the car with bread, mayo, mustard, salad dressing, potatoes, bottled water and some cans of soup.”

“Okay.”

He paused with the steak package in his hand. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No.” It was a good thing too, given the amount of meat he’d brought.

“I figure we’re set for the next few days, at least.”

“Sure. I mean, why would we ever want to leave?”

“Sierra, why aren’t you taking this seriously?

“Because I don’t believe this threat is as bad as you think it is.”

He closed the refrigerator door and flipped the lid of the cooler shut. But he didn’t look happy his cold groceries were all stowed. Instead he shook his head. “I don’t believe you’re this complacent. How can you possibly be as unconcerned as you’re pretending? You’re lying. If not to me, than to yourself.”

“I’m not lying. Yes, I’m horrified about the camera in my bathroom. The thought of it makes my skin crawl. But an over-the-top fan or some greedy paparazzi trying to sell pictures to the tabloids doesn’t mean my life is in danger.”

“Sierra, someone either shot at you or they were aiming at me because I was getting between them and you. Either way, it’s not good.

She screwed her face up at his theory. “How do you even know it was a bullet?
 

His eyes popped wide. “I felt the breeze from it flying by my head.”

“Maybe it was a big bug or something.” She shrugged.

Just when she thought he couldn’t look more shocked, his eyes popped wider. “It splintered the doorframe. I had the debris in my hair. Why can’t you get it?”

His tone, his treating her like a liar or like she was stupid, had her anger rising.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t keep me in the dark about everything, I would get it. I can’t use my phone. I can’t talk to Roger. I have no clue what kind of investigation is happening. You didn’t even want to tell me where we were going.”

“Fine. If that’s your problem, that you don’t know what’s going on, I’ll tell you.
 
What do you want to know?” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen table.

“Everything.”

He rolled his eyes. “All right. Fine. Ask.”

She felt justified in being suspicious of his offer. “So I can ask anything and you’ll answer it?

“Yes.” He was getting annoyed. Good. She liked that she could get to him like he got to her.

Sierra decided to put this new transparency of his to the test. “Is your family really as sickeningly sweet and happy and normal as you make out or are you full of shit?”

His brows rose high. “I tell you to ask anything and I’ll answer and that’s what you want to know? About my childhood and family?”

“That and about a dozen other things. But let’s start with that.”

He shook his head. “How about we’ll get to that. First, you need to understand how serious this threat is.”

She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture and just as she expected, he wasn’t willing to answer anything. “I know exactly how serious it is.” And it wasn’t as bad as he thought. At least, she wouldn’t allow herself to believe it was.

Spinning on the rubber sole of her running shoes, she turned and decided to go upstairs.

She’d see what was upstairs. First, because it was away from him. Mostly that actually, but she also had to find herself a bedroom that she might have a hope of getting some sleep in.

And once she found it, she’d slam the door on Rick and his lecture—if this hippy surfer’s shack even had doors on the bedrooms.

Stomping to make her displeasure with him known, she ascended the stairs. At the top, there was one larger room and two smaller ones. There was no question which one she was taking.

She was about to go inside and inspect further when she heard Rick’s heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her.

Of course he’d follow her. Not a surprise at all—

The feel of his hand on her arm had her squealing as he spun her to face him.

“Where is your phone?” His eyes flashed.

He looked so angry, she bit back the smart ass reply that had been on the tip of her tongue and instead said, “Downstairs in my purse.”

Rick stomped down the stairs. She followed and made it down in time to see him upend her bag and all of her things cascade onto the tabletop.

“What are you doing?”

He pawed through the items on the table, latching on to her cell. He held it up, sneering. “I could ask you the same question, princess. What the hell are you doing posting pictures online?”

“I didn’t.”

“According to Chris you did. He just texted. Darci saw a new post from you on Instagram. Something about your new shoes. When the fuck are you going to believe me you’re in danger? Turning on that phone for even a minute could lead them right to—”

Fuming, Sierra took a step closer. He was big but she was mad.

“I didn’t turn my phone on. I didn’t post anything. I’m not even wearing shoes. You ass.”
 

“Then how—“

“I have a social media intern. She posts as me. All the time. All sorts of things. When would I have posted? I’ve been with you the entire time. You obnoxious, mean, nasty . . . caveman.”

She delivered a slap to his arm, hard enough it stung her hand. He probably didn’t even feel it. His damn muscles were like iron. She turned away so he wouldn’t see the angry tears in her eyes.

This time, his hand on her arm was gentle. “Sierra.”

“What?” She had no intention of turning around, but he turned her toward him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” Her emotions all over the place, she teetered on the precipice between anger and tears.

The tears won out. As one big fat one spilled onto her cheek, she slapped at him again, hitting his chest this time. His damn pec muscle was as hard as the rest of him.

She cradled her hand against her chest. “Ow.”

The corners of his lips tipped up. “You done hitting me now?”
 

“Yes.”

“Come here.” Rick pulled her to him. “I knew you were bound to break soon. It’s too much stress to hold in.”

“I’m not crying from the stress. I’m crying because I’m so mad at you.” She pulled her head away from his chest to glare at him.

“That’s fine. I’m pretty tough skinned. I can handle it.” His gaze dropped to her lips, before he pulled it back up to her eyes. He brushed his thumb across the wet skin where the tear had run down her cheek.

It had been so long since a man had touched her for real. Her last relationship had ended long ago. The only physical contact she’d had since had been in front of the cameras and crew.