Saved by the SEAL (18 page)

I find Greta's face in the crowd and lock onto her. Letting everything else fall away, I realize that I don't care about how any of my credentials look on paper. All I care about is whether or not I'm a good enough man for her.

She smiles at me from her spot in the crowd and gives me a tiny nod. A pang of something sharp and sweet hits me in my gut like a punch.

She sees me. Through all the stuff that most people think are most important about me, she sees underneath all of that. To the real me.

As soon as Jacob's done introducing me as part of the team, he goes on to outline some of the services Night Eagle can offer for potential clients. I'm already well versed in what the firm can do, and I zone out a little bit. I realize I've lost Greta in the crowd. I see Berkeley standing in the exact same spot she was before, but the place beside her where Greta was is empty. I frown, scanning the crowd.

No Greta.

Jacob's speech drones on. He discusses Night Eagle's growth, and the fact that the company is the most reliable private security firm out there. Just when I think he's finished, he goes on to list, in great detail, every single service N.E. has to offer, and why potential clients should choose our firm over the competition. He skims over special government assignments N.E. has been a part of, or headed, and the sea of faces in front of me is more than impressed.

But right now, I don't care about any of that. Because in the entire time Jacob has been speaking, Greta hasn't reappeared in the crowd.

When Jacob's speech is finally finished, we stand beside the podium to answer questions from potential clients. And then Jacob excuses us to “enjoy the night.”

I grab Dare by the arm as we're released. He's heading back to Berkeley.

“Hey. Have you seen Greta?”

He shakes his head, glancing at me. “She's not with Berkeley?”

I shake my head, impatient. When we reach Berkeley, I immediately ask her the same question. I glance around us, but I still don't see Greta.

“She went to powder her nose. Relax. She's not walking out of here without you, silly.” Berkeley smiles at me, but I frown again.

“She's been in the bathroom this entire time?” Doubt plagues me. I had to have been standing up there looking for her in the crowd for the past half hour.

Berkeley's smile falters, and I see her eyes dart toward the exit. The restrooms are outside in the hallway.

“Hmm. It has been awhile…”

I take off, shoving servers out of my way to get to the exit door. Dare is right behind me.

“Talk to me, man. What do you think happened?”

Dare's voice is calm, and I can tell he's trying to pacify me.

He can't pacify me in this situation. For some reason I can't put my finger on, Greta not being visible is making me feel very uneasy. Droplets of sweat bead on my forehead and my pounding heartbeat is taking up residence in my throat.

“I don't know. I just have a feeling…”

We burst into the hallway, and I look left and then right. There's no sign of Greta, but there are a few guests lingering in the hall having conversations or walking to and from the restrooms. The restrooms are to my right, while the elevators and stairwell are to my left and down another hallway.

If this were any other situation, one where I weren't looking for my girlfriend and worrying that something bad might have happened to her, my natural instincts and training would kick in. But right now, I can't think straight.

Do I go left, or right?

I start in the direction of the restrooms when Dare grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him.

“Stop. Grisham,
why
do you have a feeling? You're freaking out on me, man, and I need to know why.”

His gaze is intense, focused, and it causes my brain to snap into place and start to think rationally. I focus on him and take a deep breath.

“She's been getting notes. I mean, she was. Awhile back.”

Dare frowns. “Notes?”

“Yeah…like secret admirer shit. Flowers and weird messages. Someone broke into her car to leave them. Someone broke into her desk at work. I don't know, dude. Nothing really seemed that serious. But as soon as I couldn't find her in the crowd…”

Dare's eyes widen. “Shit. Okay. Check the bathrooms. I'm heading for the stairwell. We'll find her, Ghost. It's probably nothing.”

I nod, my jaw setting firmly as I head for the restrooms. I knock on the ladies' room door once before poking my head inside. It's empty, save for one woman putting on lipstick at the sink.

She gasps when she sees me.

“Have you seen a dark-haired girl in a red dress?” I ask her quickly.

She shakes her head mutely, eyes wide. The lipstick tube is frozen halfway to her mouth.

I back out of the restroom and perform a thorough check of the men's for good measure.

I stand out in the hallway once again, my brain working furiously to decipher this mystery.
Where is Greta? Could she have gone out for some air?

That thought immediately drives me forward, and I head in the same direction as Dare had moments before, toward the stairwell. I glance at the elevator and quickly disregard it.

The stairs will be faster
.

I push the door open and begin descending them as quickly as I can. My prosthetic doesn't slow me down as I jump from the third stair to the landing, continuing my progression downward. It's when I reach the landing on the third level that I hear something strange, and I stop moving.

Listening, my ears strain for another hint of the sound I heard that doesn't belong.

I hear it again, the sound of a quiet sniffle and then a muffled sob coming from the floor below me. I take the steps two at a time until I reach the second-floor landing.

Greta is huddled on the steps, hugging her knees to her chest. She's crying.

The sound of her anguish sends a shard of pain slicing through my chest, and I almost have to double over with the pain of it. But my eyes are focused on Greta and what she needs, and she sure as hell doesn't need me to fall apart. I need to find out what the hell is making her cry.

“Baby…” I kneel down beside her, taking her into my arms. “What's wrong? What happened?”

I attempt to keep the frantic tone from my voice, but I'm pretty sure I fail because when she raises her tear-streaked face to me, I almost lose my mind.

“Tell me,” I instruct, cupping her face in my hand.

Her eyes focus on me, a watery blue abyss that I can't afford to fall into right now. “He…he hurt me.”

Anger, furious and white-hot, threatens to overwhelm me. I grapple for control over the emotion, focusing on Greta and only Greta. “Who hurt you?”

“I didn't see his face, Grisham. He was wearing something over his eyes…oh, my God. I didn't even get a chance to remember everything you taught me! God…I'm such an idiot!”

Now I move so that I'm crouching in front of her, cradling her face in both of my hands. “No, angel. If someone attacked you, none of this is your fault. Did he grab you?”

She shakes her head frantically. “No, I was outside, just catching a breath of fresh air. It's kind of stuffy in there, you know?”

I nod, patiently waiting for her to continue. Meanwhile, there's a flurry of activity inside me, urging me to let Greta go and chase down whoever the hell had attacked her.

“So I was heading back inside, taking the stairs instead of the elevator because I didn't want to wait.”

I nod again.

“And then this guy was just…
there.
I don't know where he came from, but his mask scared me. He was running straight at me, and he used something in his hand—I don't know, a knife? Something cut my arm.”

She indicated her forearm and my eyes locked in. I saw that there was a tear in her dress, and I caught a flash of blood.

“Mother
fucker.
”
The curse flies from me before I can control it as fury roils outward from the very heart of me.

“Then Dare came, and the guy kept running down the stairs. Dare checked to make sure I was okay, and then he ran after him.”

“Dare's gone after him. That's good.” I stroked her cheekbones gently with my thumbs, trying to ease the fear still lingering in her eyes. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Greta. I'm sorry he got to you. I should have been here.”

Her eyes widen, and her fingers circle my wrists, holding on tight. “Grisham, you had no way of knowing this would happen. I should have been safe, this is a nice hotel. It's not your fault.”

I close my eyes briefly. Because no matter how many times she says those words, I will always feel like protecting the people I love is my purpose. So when she's hurt, hell yes it's my fault. I have the ability to keep her safe, and I damn well need to do it.

I couldn't do it for my mother for years, but I will do it for Greta.

I lean my forehead against hers. “Let's go inside and find you some medical attention, okay? I want someone to look at your arm.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don't want to go inside. I don't want the circus my father will turn this into.”

I give her a small, regretful smile. “We can't hide this from him, Greta. He needs to know that you were attacked by some psycho at his event.”

She sighs. “I guess you're right. Damn it.”

I pull her to her feet. “How bad does it hurt?”

She glances at her arm and frowns. “I think it's a shallow cut. Hopefully it won't need stitches.” Her eyes swim at the thought.

I nod, pulling her into the crook of my arm where I need her to be. She may be okay, but I need to feel her body beside mine. I'm still struggling to keep my breaths even, to control the rage building a stone wall inside my chest. Now that I know she's safe, all I want to do is make sure her father has her and go after the person who dared to make her bleed.

I want to make him bleed.

An eye for an eye.

The event is winding down, thankfully, and people are leaving as we enter. We receive a few strange looks from parting guests, but I ignore them and hustle Greta to a table in the corner. I sit her down, and turn to look for Jacob.

Berkeley rushes over. “Oh, my God, Greta! What happened?”

She sees the tear in Greta's dress and her eyes widen. “Are you hurt?”

Greta's face is pinched, exhausted. Her skin is paler than usual, her eyes standing out starkly against the pallor of her face. I can't keep my eyes from roving over her body again and again, checking for more injuries I may have missed.

“Some asshole attacked her in the stairwell. Dare went after him.”

A flicker of worry shoots through Berkeley's eyes, but she covers it well and comes to Greta's side. She scoots a chair closer and places an arm around her. Carefully pulling up Greta's sleeve, she examines her wound. I lean closer, wanting to see for myself how bad it is.

“Oh.” Berkeley catches her breath. “Not too bad. It doesn't look like you need stitches. It's a long gash, but not deep. Do you want to go to the ER?”

“Yes,” I answer at the same time Greta gives a resounding “No!”

I stare at her, and she stares back. There's a stubborn lift to her chin that lets me know she's not budging.

“No ER, Grisham. I'm okay. I can check in with my regular doctor tomorrow if it'll make everyone feel better.”

“Greta?” Jacob has appeared at my side, concern etched on his face. “What…” He trails off as he sees her wound.

It's stopped bleeding, but it's obvious she's been hurt. “What the hell happened?” His voice is nothing more than a growl, and I understand exactly where he's coming from.

Quickly, I recount what Greta told me about the attack, and Jacob's scowl grows deeper with every word.

“Why would someone attack you?” he asks.

I've asked myself the same question over and over again since I found her huddled—crying and alone and hurt—on those stairs. That was the moment I realized that what I thought was a harmless admirer situation was really something far more sinister that we could no longer just keep an eye on.

My voice is steady and grim as I answer Jacob's question.

“She has a stalker. And he's escalating.”

T
he word
stalker
hits me in the gut like an uppercut.

I don't have a stalker. Celebrities have stalkers. Girls who are important, who have a public platform. Not me. I'm just Greta.

Staring at Grisham, I shake my head. “A stalker? You think I have a stalker?”

He kneels down beside me. “Angel, I know you have a stalker. The signs are there, especially after this attack. It can't be coincidence, or random. The same person who sent you those flowers is the same person who attacked you tonight. I'd bet my life on it.”

He stands again, turning away from me and running his hands through his messy locks. “Dammit! Why didn't I see this coming?”

I just sit there, mute, turning this new information over in my mind. I think about the other gift I was sent by an anonymous party, and I sit up straighter.

“And the surfboard,” I mutter.

Grisham's head swivels around until he's staring at me. “Come again?”

My father's voice interrupts me. He's speaking quickly into his cell phone. He has a friend on the Wilmington police force, and it's clear that's who he's speaking with. I turn my attention back to Grisham. Berkeley is listening with rapt attention while she rubs comforting circles on my back.

“I got another gift.”

Grisham opens his mouth, then closes it again. A look of awed frustration crosses his face, and I know exactly what he's thinking.

“I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd freak out. And it was just another harmless gift, but it had a note that scared me a little. And I didn't want to give the sender power by making a big deal about it. I just wanted to ignore it, pretend it never happened.”

Grisham places his hands on his waist, and I can see a muscle tensing in his jaw.  “What did the note say, Grits?”

I take a breath. I'll never forget what that note said. I recite it as if I'm reading from it at that moment. “It said
GO SURFING WITH ME?
And then when I flipped it over, it said
STOP SURFING WITH HIM.
”

Grisham mutters a curse, and as my father hangs up the phone, he pulls him aside and begins talking in hushed, urgent tones. I can only imagine what they're saying, and I place my forehead in my hands, wishing this night could just end.

I hear Dare's voice when he returns, but I don't bother to lift my head.

“He disappeared in the alley behind the hotel. Couldn't find him, even though I combed that damn alley. He's a fucking magician.”

Both my father and Grisham were less than thrilled with this news, but all three men are already formulating a plan to keep me safe. I don't even hear what it is, because I'm suddenly being introduced to two police detectives.

I give my statement to the police. It's surreal, experiencing the notes and gifts through their eyes. I'm realizing, as I recount everything that's happened with my stalker thus far, that I'm in much deeper than I thought before. This situation has somehow spiraled out of my tenuous control without my knowing it. The thought is harrowing and disconcerting. I don't understand where I went wrong.

I also don't understand why this is happening to me.

By the time I'm finished giving my statement to the detective asking me repetitive questions, the entire Night Eagle team surrounds me. The guys are being protective and strong, and I'm so grateful I'm a part of this band of brothers. They'll keep me safe.

The determination on Grisham's face takes me aback. It's like he's made a vow to himself to never let something like this happen to me again. I know that he's feeling a sense of déjà vu. He's thinking that he couldn't protect me tonight, the same way he couldn't protect his mother from his own father for all those years. I have to let him know that this is different, that I can handle this and I trust him implicitly to be there for me when I need him.

To me, Grisham is nothing but a hero. But proving that to him is turning out to be a daunting feat.

Before I know it, the questioning is over and my father is leaning down to speak to me.

“Are you all right?” he asks. “Do you want me to call your mom? Do you want to come back to my condo tonight? I don't want you to be alone.”

I open my mouth to say no at the same time Grisham speaks up from my side. “She won't be alone, sir.”

My dad takes a long, hard look at Grisham. Something seems to pass between them and my father gives a curt nod.

“You'll be okay if I let you go with Grisham, sweetheart?” he asks me seriously.

I don't hesitate before I give my own nod. “Absolutely.”

Grisham takes my hand, pulling me to my feet and immediately cradling me to his side. I feel his lips brush the top of my head, and all of the stress and anxiety and fear the night caused me leave me in a whoosh of air. Being in Grisham's arms again makes everything seem like it'll be okay. I can survive a stalker if I have him by my side.

My dad places his hands on my shoulders and kisses my cheek. “I'll give your mother a call, so you can just go home and settle in, okay? I'll make sure she knows what happened, and that you're fine. You give her a call in the morning.”

I nod and disentangle myself from Grisham so I can throw my arms around my dad. We've been through a lot together. And it hasn't all been good. But when it comes down to it, if I'm ever in trouble, he's someone I can depend on, and that counts for something. I squeeze him tight.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper in his ear.

When he pulls back, his eyes are moist and he quickly turns away. “See you Monday morning, pumpkin.”

The childhood nickname he gave me almost does me in, and Grisham seems to sense my impending emotional collapse. Without another word, he sweeps me out of the room. He appears to sense the urgency of my need to get out of there. With just a few short words and the slide of a bill into the valet's palm, his Jeep is brought around much more quickly than I could have hoped for.

He gently places me in the passenger seat and takes the time to buckle me in. His face is tender and concerned as he looks into my eyes. Without saying a word, he brushes my lips gently with his. Then he's gone. He rounds the hood of the Jeep, slides into the driver's seat, and we're on our way back to Lone Sands.

When we arrive at his beach house, Grisham is around to my side of the car quick as a flash, helping me down from the SUV.

He keeps an arm slung around my shoulder, walking me up to his front door, opening it, and closing it behind us. Grisham's big body shielding mine calms the thudding of my pulse. I watch with focused attention as he locks the dead bolt, and he glances over at me. His eyes soften as he takes my face into large hands.

“You're safe, Grits,” he whispers, searching my eyes. “You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you.” His thumbs rub feather-light circles on my pallid skin.

I nod wordlessly, letting my head fall against his shoulder. His arms wind around me, and I'm lifted into the air and carried to the couch.

Grisham sits on the edge of the cushion and looks down at me. Reaching out to tuck a piece of my hair, fallen from my elegant updo into what I can only imagine to be a bedraggled mess, he bends to claim my lips.

His lips are warm and welcome on mine, and I instantly open my mouth to accommodate him. The kiss turns urgent and feverish, him leaning into me and me capturing the hair at his nape with my fingers. When I whimper with a sudden fiery desire I can feel throughout my entire body, he pulls back and stares down at me.

“You're hurt,” he whispers, his eyes dark with warring emotions. I stare up at him, wondering which one will win out. “I should…”

“You should make love to me.” My voice is impatient as I interrupt his good-guy spiel. “Until I feel safe again.”

He doesn't hesitate. He yanks off his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor. I use greedy fingers to unbutton each button on his shirt, yanking it open and feasting my eyes on his sculpted chest. I'm so suddenly overcome with a need to have Grisham on top of me, surrounding me,
inside me
,
that I can't contain the desire overflowing from my veins.

I use my fingers to rake a path up his chest, and the answering rumble of a growl in his chest spurs me onward. Making a path back down, I find the belt on his pants and unfasten it with sure and steady fingers. Grisham watches me, but his hands aren't idle as he strokes my face, my hair, my neck. He finds the edge of fabric on my collarbone and pulls my dress down my arms. I pause in my feverish work to let him pull the garment free from my torso and I'm bared to him.

Then I'm sliding his gray pants down his hips, and he kicks off his shoe and steps out of the pants. He kneels between my legs, pushing my shoulders down to the couch and pulling my dress down over my thighs. All that's left between us is a pair of barely there G-string panties I wore underneath my dress.

Grisham hovers above me, using his knee to spread my legs farther apart. His eyes search mine, holding me steady with his touch and his gaze. “Tell me what you need right now, Grits. I want to give it to you…whatever you want.”

A rattling breath leaves me, because it's the simplest question I've ever been asked. All I want is him. I don't want to relive what happened to me tonight. I don't want to discuss who might have been behind the attack. All I want is to feel Grisham moving inside of me, taking all the bad feelings away and replacing them with good ones. Amazing ones.

“I want you inside me,” I whisper. I don't shift my gaze from his for a second, letting him know that I mean what I'm saying. “That's what I need. I need you.”

“Fuck.”

The black boxer-briefs come off like quicksilver, and my panties follow suit, landing somewhere on the floor beside us. I can feel Grisham between my thighs, and when I glance down I can see the hard, long length of him pressing gently against my folds. I reach around him to grab his ass; it's taut and perfect and I squeeze, giving him a not-so-gentle push to continue.

“Now, Grisham.” My voice is strained, and I can hear the note of pleading as I pull him closer.

His eyes, the darkest green and glowing with embers of fiery need, burn into mine as he slowly pushes inside me. I moan, closing my eyes and allowing my head to loll against the couch cushion.

With a guttural groan, Grisham pushes forward to the hilt, and then slowly pulls back out, dropping his eyes to watch the place where our bodies meet. I watch, too; it's the mesmerizing dance between us that I needed. Watching Grisham stake claim on me steals away every second of terror my stalker put me through. I pull on his hips, urging him to move faster.

Realizing what I want, he thrusts inside me again and again, moving faster and harder until I can no longer watch our bodies move. I'm just lost to the sensation of him stroking against the pulsating point inside me that makes me relinquish control. I close my eyes, willfully losing myself in Grisham.

And when he reaches between us to rub his thumb against my slick, swollen clit, I come apart harder than I ever have before. His name bursts from my lips in a scream, but he doesn't stop. He continues pounding, driving onward until I'm dizzy with pleasure. Overwhelmed by his touch, his smell, the rhythm our bodies make when they slam together. My hands leave him to scrape a jagged line up his back.

My nails on his skin is the last straw for Grisham. He falls forward, burying his face in my neck as he begins to tremble. I can feel his release streaming inside me, and the sensation makes me smile. I want to be marked by Grisham tonight in every way possible.

I lose track of the minutes we lay there afterward, Grisham still inside me and my arms draped lazily over his back. Our breathing returns to normal, and then his satisfied hum of approval vibrates against my throat.

“You. Are. Incredible.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to my neck. My skin is still sensitive, tingling with each kiss, and my inner walls squeeze around him where he's still inside.

“Shit, baby…you can't do that. I have to get up. We can't go again just yet.”

My lips push outward in a pout. “Why the hell not?”

He pulls back, eyes me, and bursts out laughing. “Well, damn. I really like this side of you, Grits.”

“I really like all sides of you.”

Chuckling, he rises, pulling out of me. Then he freezes. “Greta…”

My eyes have drifted closed, and I'm sure nothing can erase the smile on my lips. “Hmmm?”

His voice is laced with worry. “I…damn. I was caught up in you. I didn't use a condom.”

I shake my head, keeping my smile. “It's okay. I'm on the pill.”

I can hear his answering smile as he climbs off the couch. “Okay, then. Hey, Grits…I know it's been a long night and you're probably ready to pass out. But can you stay right here for a second? I have a surprise for you. It's not the exact moment I thought I'd bring it out, but…”

My eyes snap open and I sit up. Dragging a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over my bare body, I look at him questioningly. My brows pull together. “You got me something?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair and shooting me an almost shy grin as he steps into his underwear. “More like I got us something.”

He kneels down beside me and takes my hands in his. Raising them to his lips, his face holds a serious expression. “I wanted to do something to show you that I'm ready to be all in. It's me and you, and that's how I want it. I want this, Grits. I didn't think I would. I thought that I needed to be alone, make saving people's lives and keeping them safe my only mission in life. But then you showed up that day on the beach, and everything changed. As much as I tried to fight it, I couldn't stay away from you. I don't want to.”

His words are stealing my heart away, one tiny piece at a time. It's everything I ever wanted to hear him say, and he's speaking these words with all the feeling and meaning I could ask for. I brush away a tear, and he raises a hand to my face, caressing it softly with the back of his hand. “You and me?”