by Jade Alters
I jumped into the water, and the ocean surrounded me with its liquid Caribbean warmth saturating my clothes and sunk me. With hours of training and experience this was not a new feeling, but with the ship submerging fast, my heart pounded thinking this vessel could be my coffin. I swam toward where I believed the opening should be, but it was not there. Diesel in the water clouded my vision, and my hands couldn't find the egress to the open water.
From training, I could hold my breath for three minutes, but that wouldn't be enough time to locate the opening and then reach the surface.
Either I took extreme measures, or I was toast. And it would be an irony and a shame that a Navy SEAL drowned. Not that it hadn't happened before, but I was adamant it would not be me. I'd be damned if I let Davy Jones' locker take me.
Rising into the air pocket, I took a lungful of air and started the change. The burn began along my spine and spread to my legs, rearranging them from arms and legs into the limbs of a four-legged beast. My face elongated and my eyes and ears moved to different places. I sensed an opening underwater, as my jaguar ears caught sounds that my human ears could not, and my eyes saw flashes of movement obscured to me when human. I sucked in a deep breath and dove, letting the rumbles, pops, and pings of the powerboat lead me to open water. As a human, I could not do this. As my animal self, it was easier than eating a candy bar.
From the swim and change in the proportion of my waist, I lost my slacks, but I had no place for my tail in human clothes anyway. Freed, I paddled through the water. Fortunately, the tide pulled out to sea, so I nearly glided through the water.
The rumble of the power boat's engine grew louder, so I knew Damon had stopped her and waited for me to show. I poked my head up and roared to let my team know I was nearby, then I dove and shifted to my human form. It was easier doing this in water as the sea held me in its warm embrace while my bones realigned. Once limbs had become arms and legs, and my fur receded, I broke the surface of the water and waved.
My men appeared relieved, but they should know I always survived.
I swam to the boat and Kane reached his arm toward the water to help me up into the boat. The woman's eyes grew wide at my half-naked state and Gunner threw a towel at me which I wrapped around my waist.
"My eyes," he whined with one of his stupid jokes.
Then Kane and Damon smiled, but it was more from relief that we'd all gotten out alive.
"Boss," said Damon as he peered over his shoulder. "We have incoming."
I swiveled my head to see a St. Lucia Coast Guard cutter heading our way. But it was an aging vessel and wouldn't match the power of this demon of the seas.
We'd chosen St. Lucia for this reason, and also politically they didn't mind assassinating known criminals. They'd pulled off their own campaigns to make the island more attractive to tourists. When Damon told me this, I nearly woofed my beer. St. Lucia? An eye-catching little island nation whose police commanded the naval forces? It was an extreme solution for a tiny country. Still, we did not want to be caught by them or to have to explain why United States' SEALS were in their sovereign waters.
Damon revved the engines with the roar of a 260-horsepower engine and left the cutter and St. Lucia a brief memory in a hopefully long life.
"How did we do?" I asked. The repeated slaps of the boat on the surface of the ocean forced me to sit, which I did next to our passenger.
"The bastard got to the dock," said Kane grimly.
"We shot. We didn't score," opined Gunner sourly. "What's Plan B?"
I needed to chew out the entire team, especially Gunner, but I was aware our guest barely clung to the bench as she shivered. She'd put up a brave front so far, but people handled stress in different ways. The last thing she needed was a Marine Sargent yelling at her.
"Alpha-Mike-Foxtrot. Time to disavow all of you and head to a nice island off the south of France."
"No can do, boss man, you can't adios us until the objective is achieved."
"How about we get our passenger to safety then and not spill mission objectives in front of civilians?"
"You've," she said, "failed in that."
I stared at her and couldn't pull my gaze away. Her eyes were the color of both sand and sea, two of my very favorite things, and her hair—wait. It glinted artificially in the sun, and something about the way it smelled confused me.
I yanked the wig off her head.
"Hey!"
Yeah, I got it now. Another woman's scent clung to the wig. I tossed it into the water.
"That belonged to my mother."
"Then why was it on your head?"
"None of your business," she snapped.
"Get her phone," said Gunner, "and the jump drives she stuffed in her bra."
"How do you—" she said indignantly.
"Sweetie, you were bouncing on my shoulder. I felt them."
"Oh, a regular princess and the pea," she snapped.
Damon chuckled over his shoulder, and Kane joined him. "That's a good name for you, Gunner. I like it," said Damon. "Princess."
"Don't you fucking dare, Darkman."
"You gonna make me?"
"Boy, boys," I said with my best authoritative air. "Let's not scare the lady with your juvenile antics."
"By all means," she said. "Let's frighten me with kidnapping and talk of assassination." She crossed her arms and stared at me as if she'd like to take a bite out of me.
Which isn't a bad idea.
I was surprised. My beast-self, my jaguar, rarely voiced things in words. He communicated more often with a random thought or a picture that flashed through my brain. Not that he wasn't smart. However, this part of me perceived the world in a more animalistic, and instinct-driven frame of mind.
Down, boy, I thought, though I knew damned well it wouldn't listen to my more human self. It never did.
I could almost hear a derogatory chuff, but I didn't have time for jaguar games.
"How soon before we meet our pickup?" I said.
"Thirty minutes, boss. At least we are on schedule."
That didn't do us a damn bit of good given we'd muffed the mission.
"Okay, go below deck and find a pair of shorts on this tub."
"Sure, boss," smirked Kane.
"And Gunner, turn your head."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
He turned his head to the sea, and I pounced on our passenger. I yanked the straps of her dress down and fished the phone and jump drives from her bra.
"What the hell?" she yelled. "Get away from me." She squirmed seeking escape, but in a boat bouncing on the surface of the sea, there were few places to go.
"Sorry, ma'am, but you can't keep pieces of evidence."
"Who the fuck are you," she snapped, "to be fishing around in my bra?"
"For today—the United States Government. That's all I can say about the matter."
Gunner
When Jeanine screamed, I wanted to grab Ryker and throw the fucker off the boat.
He was our team leader and a damned good one. Ryker saved our raggedy asses more than once, but I disliked him pawing the poor woman who had no choice in traveling with us.
"Hey!" I said.
"Stand down, Gunner," warned Ryker.
One did not mess with the Chief, but the look of shock and fright on our rescue's face clenched my gut. The need to protect her overwhelmed me, and if that meant against my teammates and closest buddies, I would.
"You know, you could have asked before you manhandled her."
Ryker's eyes flew open at my insubordinate words. But hell, he was out of line.
I knelt before Jeanine because I wanted to get eye level with her, and you can't stand on a smallish boat clipping the water at high speed.
"Don't mind him. He's forgotten what women look like."
"Gunner," growled Ryker in warning. But I ignored him.
"What's your name?"
"Jeanine Lee."
"Okay, Jeanine. We will
meet up with Coast Guard cutter soon, and it will take us back to the U.S., probably Miami. Is that right, Ryker?"
"Yeah. Miami," Ryker grunted.
"Then you can go where you want."
"Easy for you to say. I've locked my credit cards, ID, and passport in my hotel room in St. Lucia."
"Damon will arrange transportation to your home base. He's our logistics man."
Damon raised his hand. "Here."
"Yeah. We're acquainted. He told me I spoke shitty French."
I glanced at Damon, who, courtesy of his shifter hearing, easily caught her words over the roar of the boat engine. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Mr. Charm has his own way with women," I said.
"Who does?" said Kane, as he climbed back on deck and handed Ryker his backpack.
"Now," groused Ryker, as he slipped it on ahead of time for contingencies, "if we'd worked this efficiently on the yacht—"
Damon shifted the boat into a faster gear making us all stumble on the deck. He wasn't in the mood for Ryker's complaints, because we all knew the plan had a high probability of failure. There were too many moving parts and too few of us, and the only one surprised it went into a ditch was our team leader.
We'd put our all into it, but sometimes, despite your best efforts, the op blew apart.
Doesn't mean we won't try again.
Kane's eyes nearly popped when he saw Jeanine's top pulled down. She wore a bra, but it was a very sexy black lace, and the way Jeanine glared was hot too.
And I liked her much better as a brunette.
"Here," he said, offering another backpack to her. "We have extra clothes in there. Cover your body."
"Why?" she snapped.
"Because we are near the equator and your fair skin will burn redder than a boiled lobster by the time we meet the cutter."
"Oh," she said. Her indignation deflated, and her shoulders drooped. She had been up all night, and her drawn eyes revealed Jeanine's exhaustion. The morning sun glittered in her tired eyes as dawn broke on the ocean.
"Do we have food?" I asked.
"Here," said Ryker pulling out a package of beef jerky from his backpack. He held it out to me.
"Not me. Her. And water too."
And that wasn't a smart move on my part because Ryker's eyes glowed before he offered her the jerky and the water. My jaguar growled inside me disliking the predator's gaze Ryker gave her.
Mine, said my beast.
For the record, I was not a one-woman man. As jaguar shifters, our beasts were normally solitary creatures. We took our pleasures as they came, and I had no problem with that. Traveling the world like we did from one dangerous assignment to another didn't leave lots of room or time for a human-style relationship.
But the woman ticked all my boxes. She was cute, adventurous, physically fit, and smart. It took a special woman to keep up with me since jaguar shifters were energetic creatures.
Jeanine shivered, so I took the backpack and fished out a gray hoodie. It was a shame to cover her sexy dress, but I hated to see her distress.
"Here you are."
She pulled it from my hand and slipped it on. I watched her every move. Her fingers and wrists had the most graceful bend I'd ever seen, and I was fascinated. She'd painted her nails in sparkly gold to match her dress.
"Gunner," snapped Kane standing behind me. "Find something else to do besides staring."
My jaguar growled within me again, and I whipped around to face Kane. I stepped toe-to-toe to him, using my natural feline sense of balance to keep me upright.
"Mind your own business, Doc."
"Maybe it is my business."
"Knock it off you two," said Ryker with his voice low. "Sit down, shut—"
But the boat engine stuttered, and the vessel jolted us with a lurch and then stilled in the water.
"What the hell. Damon?" said Ryker. "What happened?"
"Don't know."
"I'm on it," said Kane. "Raise the engine hatch."
Damon hit the switch to lift the engine hatch at the stern, and the back seat rose to reveal the engine.
"Yep," I said. "It's an engine."
"Smart ass," muttered Kane.
"What do you think you will do?" said Jeanine. "We're in the middle of the ocean."
"Astute observation," he said. "Check the fuel line, the spark plugs, see if I can find a simple fix."
"We call him Doc," I said, "and not just because he's our medic."
"Yeah," said Kane wriggling his hands with a smile. "I'm the man with the hands."
"Stop jawing and get going," said Ryker. "We need to make tracks."
"Can't you just call the cutter to retrieve us?"
"Sure," said Ryker. "If we want to give Morgan a clue where we are. Why do you think he's such a successful pirate? He has a bunch of ships in these waters searching for easy pickings. They are listening for SOSs, sat phone GPS signals, anything that will give them the ship's location."
Her eyes widened, but she asked a question I did not expect.
"How many ships?"
"Three, we think?"
"Have you been watching them for long?"
"What the hell? What's with the questions? And why were you in Morgan's cabin anyway going through his desk? Who the hell are you?"
"No one," she mumbled. Jeanine put on the hoodie as she stared out over the water. And her scent shifted too, with a subtle note of fear, like she's lying.
Ryker's eyes narrowed with suspicion too.
"Gunner," said Kane. "Make yourself useful and find me some tools. They stowed none by the engine."
I looked in the storage sections under the seats, and Damon went below deck to the tiny sleeping space.
"Nothing there," said Damon.
"I've got nothing," I said. There was a length of rope, a blanket, a flare gun, and a first aid kit, and a bottle of whiskey. But no tools.
"Oh for heaven's sake," huffed Jeanine. She fished in her bra and pulled out a metal nail file. "Try this."
Kane smiled with appreciation as he took the thin piece of metal. "A gal after my heart. You know how to improvise, don't you?"
She crossed her arms and settled back in her seat.
"Anything to get us moving," she said.
"Shut your mouth and work," said Ryker. "And you, Gunner, survey the resources."
"Done." I reported the list of what I found and Ryker's expression turned sour.
"Doc, get on that engine."
"For heaven’s sake," said Jeanine. "Are you always this grumpy?"
I had to turn away, so he didn't see me laughing. Chief's bad moods when an op didn't go as planned were legendary.
"Chief," said Damon, "is always this grumpy."
"Damon, give Doc a hand," growled Ryker. "We can't sit out here without power."
"Aye, aye, Chief."
"What are you guys anyway?" Jeanine said.
"That's on a need-to-know basis," grumbled Ryker.
"Since I'm on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean with four strangers, I need to know."
Ryker raised an eyebrow and turned away.
"I'll check things down below," he said.
The Chief could be a dick, but it didn't bother us because we gave it right back. But we couldn't in front of the civilian. Her adorable face was now marred by a frustrated frown. So I sat next to her.
"Don't mind him. We muffed Morgan not making it off that ship. It upsets him when an op gets blown."
"Let me get this straight. A mysterious U.S. government four-man team was on a ship of a suspected pirate to kill him? And screwed the op?"
"What were you doing on there? And don't tell me 'to party' because you enter a pirate's private room for only two reasons—to have sex with him, or to steal from him. Which was it?"
"I've nothing to hide," she said lifting her chin. "A friend of mine partied with Morgan and then disappeared. She sent me a message saying she was in trouble, and then her messages stopped."
; "Did you contact the authorities?"
"Which authorities would that be? Who takes an interest in a girl who parties with a suspected criminal?"
I had to admit she was correct.
"What's her name?"
"Surma Jones. Black girl, 5'8" inches, about one-hundred-forty pounds."
"We've been on Morgan's ship for three months. I didn't see her."
She bit her lip, which my inner beast found adorable. He growled within me to get closer, and though in the back of my head I realized I shouldn't, I put my arm around her. Her hair's scent, laden with the sea, and the essence of her wafted up my nose. It was enticing and intoxicating.
Mine, said my jaguar.
Yeah, sure, buddy. And what would we do with her?
Do I have to spell it out?
The urge to nuzzle her neck came over me, and I stopped short of leaning over to put my mouth on her creamy skin. Inside my beastly side complained and loudly.
Work, not play.
It was weird scolding yourself, and things got more ridiculous when my dick thickened. But, me making a play for her would not work out with my team, especially since we were dead in the water and miles from rescue.
"What are you doing there, Gunner?"
Damon looked over his shoulder, and his eyes narrowed. He appeared ticked off.
"I'm being nice."
Jeanine huffed, and I watched her nostrils flare with an unaccustomed level of interest.
"Be nice to her and leave her alone," said Damon.
"Stop your jawing, both of you." Gunner poked an oil-streaked face from the engine compartment. "I don't know. It could be a clogged fuel line. Do we have any wire?"
"There's the snare wire in the survival kit," I said.
"No," he said. "It's too thin. But, damn it, get that kit."
Jeanine huffed. "Do I have to give you every tool?" She fiddled with the clasp of her bra and pulled it through the sleeve of her hoodie. How do women do that? But I didn't understand until she pulled at the stitches of her bra and pulled out an underwire.
"There," she said holding out the curved wire. "If that doesn't work, I will have destroyed a one-hundred-dollar bra for nothing."
Kane
Jeanine was one smart woman, and resourceful. One thing SEALS admire is a person who can pull solutions from nothing. I didn't know if Jeanine's bra part would work, but I reached and plucked the curved wire from her hand. Our fingers touched, and a spark of electricity shocked me. Her gorgeous blue eyes opened at contact.
