by Susan Stoker
“See that you do—or your girlfriend will be mourning the death of her almost-fiancé.” He hung up before the punk could say anything else. He tucked the untraceable throwaway phone deep into his bag and made a mental note to get rid of it on his way home that evening.
The naval officer leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. His uniform was perfectly pressed. Not one medal on his chest was out of place. He looked as aboveboard as a career officer could. He enjoyed his work; it was too bad the pay was so shitty.
And now he had to deal with Caite McCallan. He’d had another connection in Bahrain interrogate the idiot brothers before the authorities could get to them. They’d admitted to talking about the plan to get rid of the SEALs at a conference they’d attended, but had sworn no one could understand them.
Of course, they hadn’t realized the damn secretary had majored in French in college. She’d heard every word, and had obviously used her own connections to get the SEALs rescued—along with six of the ten tablets he’d promised to a collector in Washington, D.C. He was going to be paying for that fuckup for a long time.
The secretary had heard his name. She had to die. It was that simple.
Things would’ve been easier if the punk kid had done what he’d asked while she was still in Bahrain. It would’ve been easy to have her snatched off the street and killed. Everyone would’ve thought it was a random attack. But now she was back in the States and things were trickier.
But that didn’t change the fact that she had to die. She knew too much. Even if he suspected she didn’t yet realize it.
The man sat up and rested his elbows on the desk in front of him. He steepled his fingers as he thought about what his next steps should be.
“Sir?” his secretary said through the intercom on his phone.
He pushed a button and replied, “Yes?”
“You said to let you know when your two o’clock appointment arrived. He’s here.”
“Thank you. Send him in.”
He didn’t have time at the moment to solve the problem of Caite McCallan, but he would. The bitch had to go. Permanently. It was the only way he’d be safe.
Chapter Eight
“Seriously, Caite?” her mom asked with a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Yeah, Mom. I need a job, and for the moment, this is what I can get.”
“But a convenience store? That’s about the most dangerous job you could’ve gotten! I watch the ID Channel. People who work in those places die in shootouts and robberies every day!”
Caite wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. “Mom, you need to stop watching those shows. Pretty soon you aren’t going to want to leave the house. It’s okay. The store is in a good part of San Diego and it’s close to my new apartment. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it.”
To be honest, Caite didn’t like it much either. But she was desperate. She needed a job, and being a cashier would bring in some much-needed cash while she looked for something more appropriate for her education and background. She’d already given herself a week and a half to find a secretarial position after getting back from overseas and finding an apartment, and when she hadn’t, she’d made the decision to take any job she could get in the meantime.
“It’s only temporary,” she tried to reassure her mom. “Once I find another admin job, I’ll quit.”
Her mother sighed. “You know if you need money, all you have to do is ask your father and me. We’re happy to help out.”
Caite knew as much, but the last thing she wanted was to be that daughter. The one who sponged off her folks. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. For now, I’m okay.”
“I just worry about you.”
“I know. I love you. I gotta get going, I’m almost home.”
“You shouldn’t talk on the phone while you’re walking,” her mom scolded. “You should be paying attention to your surroundings.”
“I am.”
“Fine. I’m only letting you go so you can be more aware of what’s going on around you.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you too, Mom. Say hi to Dad and tell him not to work so hard.”
The older woman chuckled. “Yeah, right. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Caite clicked off the cheap cell phone she’d picked up at the store the night before and stuck it in her purse. She continued walking down the street toward her apartment. She’d lucked out and gotten a studio not too far from where her old apartment had been. She already knew the bus routes and, on a whim, she’d stopped into the twenty-four-hour convenience store and inquired about a job.
She’d been hired on the spot. She’d told the manager that she couldn’t work the night shift, making up a story about a nonexistent kid she had to be home for, and he’d agreed. Caite felt bad about lying, but she wasn’t an idiot. She watched many of the same shows her mom did. She knew the statistics, and knew that nothing good happened in convenience stores in the middle of the night.
She was putting off buying a car for the time being, wanting to stretch the money in her savings account as far as possible. While she might’ve paid off most of her credit cards, she still had student loans, and now rent and other living expenses.
The sidewalk was cracked and broken and Caite was looking down, making sure not to trip over any of the worst spots. She passed the bus stop outside her apartment and made her way toward her building. The doors to the individual apartments in this complex were on the outside, which she wasn’t thrilled about, but she couldn’t afford to be picky.
“When you find a real job, you can move,” she said to herself as she headed toward the stairway that led up to the second floor, where apartment three was located.
“You didn’t text me,” a deep voice said, and Caite jerked in surprise.
She looked up and saw Rocco leaning against a royal-blue four-door car.
At first she was excited to see him—but then she remembered why she hadn’t gotten ahold of him.
Embarrassment.
Rocco pushed off the car and walked toward her. When he got close, his eyes went from her face down to her feet, then back up again. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Caite nodded. Then her brows furrowed and she asked, “How did you find me?”
“I knew you’d been canned, and when you didn’t get in touch with me, I used my connections to track you down.” He looked up at the apartment then back down at her. “You need help getting your stuff from the storage unit?”
Caite should’ve been pissed at how much he knew, especially after being fired because someone had been super nosy, but this was Rocco. She couldn’t be pissed.
“I wasn’t going to bother,” she told him honestly. “I’ve got an air mattress and my stuff from my apartment in Bahrain. I’ll be okay until I can find a new place to live. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of moving everything in and having to move it all out again.”
Rocco shook his head. “No way are you gonna be sleeping on the fucking floor,” he said, more to himself than her. Then he pulled out a phone and clicked on something and brought it up to his ear.
“What are you—”
“Hey, Bubba, it’s Rocco. I need some help this afternoon…Caite’s stuff is still in a storage locker over on One Hundred and Third Street. She hasn’t gotten around to moving it to her new place… Awesome. I’d appreciate it. An hour sounds great. See you then.”
“Rocco, no. I’m fine, I don’t need—”
“It’s already done, ma petite fée. The team is headed over to your storage unit right now to get your stuff. Can you call and tell the place it’s okay to cut off your lock, and that the guys are authorized to remove your things?”
Caite crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Rocco.
He grinned, but quickly got serious. He raised a hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Caite, you need your stuff. It’s not a big deal for
us to help you. We can get all your shit moved in before it gets dark. Besides, it would save you the monthly payment at the storage place.”
He was right, but it still felt weird. “I just…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what she wanted to say.
“I’m sorry you were fired,” Rocco said softly. “You didn’t deserve that. You could’ve fought it. Told them why you were wearing the abaya and what happened.”
She immediately shook her head. “No. I didn’t want to get you guys in trouble.”
“Hon, we wouldn’t have gotten in trouble. We were in the country on an official mission.”
“I know, but you said you didn’t want me involved.”
“For your own safety,” he rebutted. “If I knew you were going to get fired, I would’ve made sure you were in the clear. I would’ve at least told Commander Horner who you were. He knows there was a woman involved who saved our lives, we made that clear, but he respected my wish to keep it off the record. I’m so sorry, ma petite fée.”
Caite shrugged. “It’s okay. I hated my boss, and honestly, after that night, I didn’t feel safe at all. I feel safer walking on the street here than I did there.”
“Let us help,” he implored.
Out of arguments, Caite finally nodded.
“Thank you. Now, invite me up.”
That was the last thing she wanted. She wasn’t quite embarrassed about her apartment, but she wasn’t exactly ready to entertain anyone either. “We could go to lunch or something while we wait for your friends.”
Rocco shook his head. “Nope. I want to hear about what you’ve been doing since you’ve been back. Have you found a job? Can I help in any way?”
“We can talk at lunch,” Caite said hopefully.
Rocco eyed her critically. “Why don’t you want me in your apartment? Have you changed your mind about going out with me?”
He took a step away from her, and Caite immediately felt bad that he’d thought that even for a moment. “No!” she blurted.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m embarrassed, okay?” she said softly. “I don’t really have furniture and there’s nothing on the walls. I haven’t had time to unpack much of anything yet, and I just…it’s embarrassing.”
“Caite, you just got back into the country. And I’d never think badly of you because of the way your apartment looks. Unless it’s buried in trash or something.” He grinned.
She shook her head. “No, it’s clean. It’s just…sparse.”
“I can deal with sparse. Come on.” Rocco reached out and took her hand in his, and Caite was immediately thrown back to Bahrain, when he’d done the same thing. It felt good…and right.
He led the way up the stairs, straight to her apartment, and she realized that he really had gotten information from someone about her. That should’ve worried her, but it didn’t. She felt safe with Rocco. She’d saved his life, and somehow that bound them together closer than anything else could’ve.
He waited while she pulled the key out of her pocket and unlocked the apartment door. He held it open for her and followed her in. Caite let him step past her and watched his reaction to her place while he looked around.
His facial expression didn’t change as his head swiveled from the kitchen to the living area. The only piece of furniture she had was one of those low patio chairs. It had a crack in the seat, but it was better than sitting on the floor.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked. She’d been to the grocery store and stocked up, at least.
Rocco turned back to her and didn’t say anything for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m good.”
Several uncomfortable seconds went by. “Well? Go ahead, say something. I know you’re dying to.”
“About your apartment?” he asked.
She nodded.
He moved then. Came toward her so fast, she took a couple involuntary steps back, which put her up against the wall just inside the apartment. Rocco leaned his forearms on the wall near her head and hovered over her. She raised her hands and put them on his chest, not pushing him away, exactly, just resting them there.
“You want to know what I think about your apartment?”
Caite swallowed hard and nodded.
“I hate it.”
She didn’t have a comeback for that. She’d asked. But he didn’t give her a chance to say anything, anyway.
“I hate that all you’ve got in here is a fucking chair that someone threw away. The place lacks any kind of personality, and that’s just wrong, because you’ve got personality oozing from your every pore. I imagine you living in a place surrounded by ordered chaos. Pictures, flowers, TV on with some home-renovation show, fluffy pillows on the couch. But I’m gonna do my best to give that back to you, ma petite fée. We’ll move your stuff in then see what else you need. We’ll ask our friends for help. Wolf and his team and their women will set you up. We’ll fix this.”
Caite’s throat closed with unshed tears. He was exactly right. Empty, the apartment was depressing and even scary. She’d slept there for the last week and a half, scared out of her mind. Every little noise made her jump, and she’d even placed the crappy plastic chair in front of her door, hoping it would slow someone down if they managed to break in.
“I’m gonna add a deadbolt to your door as well. This isn’t the worst area, but it’s not the best either. I don’t like the fact that your door opens to the outside, but I get this is what you can afford right now. I’ll help make you feel safe. Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it. Okay?”
Caite nodded. She would appreciate an extra lock on the door more than a television or dining room table.
“So…have you found a job?” he asked, not moving away from her.
Caite wanted to tell him to step back, but another part of her liked having him this close. “Yeah. Just today, as a matter of fact.”
“That’s great news. Where?”
She knew that question was coming. “The convenience store down the street.” He frowned, and she hurried on. “I know, I know, but it was what I could get at the moment. I’m still looking for something in my field, but there aren’t too many positions for French language majors, and I’m pretty sure me getting a job on the naval base is out, considering I was fired and kicked out of Bahrain. But administrative assistants are a dime a dozen. I’ll find something soon, I’m sure.”
Rocco didn’t say anything, but Caite watched the muscle in his jaw flex. “At least tell me you aren’t working nights.”
“I’m not working nights,” she said immediately. “I lied and told the manager I had a kid and had to be home every afternoon to get him off the bus.”
Rocco’s lips quirked up at that. “At least that’s somethin’,” he said after a beat. Then he stood up straight and Caite let her arms fall to her sides. He gently grasped her elbow. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got to eat in this place,” he said. “The guys’ll be here before too long.”
He pulled her over to her kitchen and gestured for her to hop up on the counter. She did, and then watched as he opened her refrigerator and bent over. Caite couldn’t help but look at his ass. Rocco was wearing a pair of worn blue jeans that molded to every inch of his amazing form. She’d thought he looked good in his khakis, and the black pants he’d been wearing that night in Bahrain, but there was nothing like a man in a tight-fitting pair of jeans.
“Are you checking out my ass?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, the humor easy to hear in his tone.
“Yup,” Caite told him even as she blushed.
“Right. Then carry on,” Rocco quipped and turned back to investigate the fridge.
It had taken everything in Rocco to not demand that Caite quit her new job right then and there. A convenience store? For fuck’s sake, that was the least safe job he could imagine anyone having, let alone Caite.
But he was trying not to be a douchebag. They technically weren’t even dating, as he hadn’t m
anaged to take her on a single date yet.
And her apartment made him incredibly sad. He knew she was embarrassed by her lack of things, but he didn’t give a shit about that. She deserved everything. He also knew offering her money wouldn’t go over well, and he wouldn’t know where to start when it came to shopping for a woman. But…Caroline, Alabama, and the other wives of Wolf’s SEAL team would. The second they heard about her circumstances, they’d bend over backward to make sure she was set up.
At least her refrigerator and cabinets were full of food. He was thankful for that. He made them each a sandwich, and then learned more about her meeting with her boss, when she’d been fired, and about how she’d basically been whisked out of the country faster than anyone he’d ever heard of before. He listened as she talked about her parents and how great they were. Her mom had offered to drive down from the San Francisco area to help her get settled, but Caite had refused.
She had no brothers or sisters, and ironically, both her parents were only children as well, so she had no aunts or uncles to rely on either. No cousins.
Rocco was anxious for the rest of his teammates to meet her. He knew without a doubt that they’d all take to her as well as he had. Well, maybe not quite as well as he had.
A knock sounded on the door and Rocco said, “Stay put. I’ll get it.” They were both sitting on the counter because there’d been no other place to eat their lunch. Caite nodded, and he felt her eyes on him as he hopped down and headed for the front door.
He liked the way she watched him.
Rocco wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was good-looking. But it had been a long time since he’d cared. His life had been too busy with training and missions. And that was it. He’d long since gotten tired of the bar scene and the dating game. He was too old for that shit anyway. Thirty-five wasn’t exactly ancient, but hanging around the twenty-something newbies at the bar made him feel like an old man. Besides, getting to know Wolf and the others, with their growing families, had made him yearn for something he couldn’t even put into words.
