A SEAL's Song

by Lowery, Jennifer

  A SEAL’s Song

  By Jennifer Lowery

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About the Author

  Other Books by Jennifer Lowery

  A SEAL’s Song

  By Jennifer Lowery

  Copyright ©2014 by Jennifer Lowery

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.

  Editing by Piper Denna

  Author photograph by Trent Anderson of GreatScotMan Photography https://www.facebook.com/GreatScotManPhotography

  I dedicate this book to my Dad, who gave me my Irish roots, and my voice. Thank you, Dad, for teaching me the beauty of words and song.

  There are many people who helped me finish A SEAL’s Song. For me, I never would have reached the end without the loving support of my family. My hubby, Mike, I owe for taking on the burden of supporting the family while I followed my dream. I love you, honey! And my children, Hunter and Jenna, for helping keep the house clean so I could write! My sisters, Abby and Melissa, for their support and humor and fun times when we got together for coffee and great conversation. My mom for always being my biggest fan. My dad for being my biggest supporter. I still have the cards and kind notes, Dad! Thanks, guys, for being there for me. Love ya!

  To Sharon Hamilton, author extraordinaire and friend, thank you for having faith in me and inviting me in! I’m honored to be part of this project with such an amazing writer such as yourself and humbled you thought of me in a pinch.

  A special thank you goes out to my critique partners and dear friends, D’Ann Lindun and Daryl Ouellette. They were there when I needed them and dropped everything to help me get this manuscript in shape in time to meet my deadline. Without them I never would have made it. So, thank you, ladies! You are the best!!

  To the most fabulous editor in the world, Piper Denna, who makes me a better writer! Thank you, Piper, for your humor and encouragement, and guidance. My books wouldn’t be complete without you!

  To the fabulous authors of the SEALs of Summer-thank you for welcoming me into the group and making me feel like part of the team. It was an honor to be part of the lineup with all of you.

  And, to anyone I may have accidentally overlooked please know you are not forgotten. I appreciate each and every one of you who helped me get through the writing of this book.

  Last, but not least, I just want to send out a big THANK YOU to all my readers out there! Without you I wouldn’t be here. My wish is to one day meet each and every one of you so I can personally thank you for your generosity and support.

  All my best,

  Jennifer

  Chapter One

  Darci O’Shea hit the deck, arms shielding her head as four armed men circled the group of people who’d been dancing, drinking and enjoying themselves until hostile shouts echoed through the warm night. The rest of the small crowd dropped to the floor as orders were barked to be quiet and do as told so no one would get hurt.

  She scanned the open-air bar for the elderly woman she’d been talking to earlier, worried about the lady’s weak heart. When she didn’t spot her, she prayed the poor woman had retired to her hotel room early.

  The men instructed them to remove their jewelry and toss their purses and wallets into the center of the floor. The only jewelry she wore was a precious Celtic knot necklace that had been passed down from her grandmother. It would break her heart to give it up to these thieves.

  Anger knotted inside her. The thieves had their heads covered with ski masks and wore black clothes, but their hands were uncovered. Three of them had dark skin, natives of the island. But one of them had fair skin. American? He hadn’t spoken yet, so she couldn’t be sure. Regardless, she’d remember everything she could about these thieves to tell the authorities. They weren’t getting away with this.

  Thank God the bride and groom had already left for their honeymoon and weren’t here to see this. A beautiful wedding in a tropical paradise. It had been perfect. When the bride had called her to personally ask her to sing at her wedding, Darci had been flattered. Her Celtic Rock band didn’t typically do weddings. But Renee hadn’t wanted to hire the band, just Darci, to sing the most important songs of the wedding. At first she’d refused, telling the bride-to-be she wasn’t a solo act. But, her band had insisted she take the gig. It paid big, and who wouldn’t want to run off to the Caribbean for a weekend, all expenses paid?

  Paul and Renee Townsend would never forget their special day. And now, because of these thieves, neither would their guests.

  “Better do as he says,” someone whispered from beside her. She recognized the woman as the wedding planner. Pretty, mid-twenties, and she’d done a great job planning the wedding down to the last detail. If Darci ever met Mr. Right she would hire this woman to plan her wedding. Well, if her band’s album went platinum.

  When the fair-skinned man noticed she wasn’t moving, he walked over. Before Darci moved, he dropped down on one knee and grabbed her throat in a strong grip as he tried to remove her necklace.

  Darci lashed out, aiming a kick at his groin, but he turned so her blow landed on his thigh. He cursed and backhanded her. Pain exploded in her head and she fell back, clutching her cheek.

  Shouts erupted around her, along with gasps and screams from those watching. He grabbed her and jerked her to her feet. Darci’s head swam. She met his gaze. Blue eyes. Blond-tipped lashes.

  Then he pressed the barrel of his gun to her head.

  “Anyone else care to disobey?” He spoke in a New York accent.

  ****

  Navy SEAL Lieutenant Jack Taggart loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt as he walked across the beach toward the wedding reception. He’d gotten Paul and Renee on their plane to Scotland for their honeymoon. Now he would fulfill his promise to the bride and return to the celebration to check on Renee’s grandmother, Elsie. He’d much rather head to his sailboat and enjoy his second reason for being here. Some much needed R&R after a particularly grueling deployment. But Elsie had taken a liking to him and would
allow only him to escort her to her room. After midnight, she’d insisted. She vowed she would stay up until the bride and groom were on their way to their honeymoon before she went to bed.

  He shook his head. For a woman of eight-three years with a heart condition, she could be a firecracker.

  As he approached the bar the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Instead of hearing music and the noise of a party, he heard muffled sounds of women crying and a male voice giving orders. American. New York accent.

  Ducking into the bushes, he did a quick recon. Four men. Armed to the teeth. One hostage with a gun to her head. The wedding singer. Darci something.

  Moving at a low crouch toward the nearest guard, Jack came up behind him, slid an arm around his throat and yanked him backward. He choked him out before the guy even knew what had happened, and took his weapon. Then he headed for the next one.

  Too late.

  Someone noticed.

  The guy holding the wedding singer shouted and twisted in a tight circle without letting go of her, waving his gun at the other guards. A couple of them grabbed the loot in the middle of the floor and shoved it into a bag as Jack skirted the bar toward the guy who’d been left in charge of finding him. Definitely the wedding to rob. Many of guests were as wealthy as Renee’s family.

  Over his dead body would they get away with this.

  A guard snuck behind a palm tree and picked up his pace. Then all hell broke loose. The flashing lights and sirens from island authorities pumped up the tension. People began shouting, women screamed. A crowd this size wouldn’t be hard to control, but in a panic and with one of their guards down it would be a challenge.

  The guard suddenly joined the action, giving up on his search. Jack cursed, taking cover behind a palm tree. He leaned out to take a look. They were preparing to leave.

  The New Yorker still held the wedding singer. She didn’t belong in this crowd. He and Paul used to wait tables in digs like this. He knew who dined here and who worked here.

  Then again, maybe she did. She was more beautiful than any other woman here. The sapphire blue dress flowed over her lithe body in a way that would bring any man to his knees. Her voice still haunted him. There may not be a million of dollars of jewels adorning her neck and fingers, but her voice was worth ten times that.

  She looked over and saw him. Her eyes widened. He shook his head. With a barely perceptible nod she glanced away as the man holding her jerked her around and started issuing orders to his men.

  One of the guards moved away. Toward him. Jack grinned. Come on over, buddy. As soon as the guy hit the sand, Jack grabbed him and took him down the same as the first one.

  Two down. Two to go.

  He crouched over the unconscious guard, confiscated his weapon and started to rise when a pair of leather boots appeared next to his foot.

  Before he could react, the butt of a gun slammed down on the back of his head. Pain exploded. The ground rose to meet him.

  ****

  Darci watched a tall woman in a ski mask hit the groomsman in the back of the head with the butt of her gun. He fell to the ground, out cold.

  Not good. Not good at all. The groomsman had been doing a pretty good job taking out the guards. Had managed to confiscate one of their weapons. And now he was unconscious.

  She wished the woman hadn’t gotten the jump on him. Where had she come from, anyway? Obviously with the group. A ski mask covered her head like the others and she wore all black. Until now, she’d remained out of sight.

  “Round ’em up.”

  The order came from the woman. The man holding her began dragging her toward the beach. She fought his grip, panicked.

  In the distance she could hear police sirens. Closer now. Seconds away.

  She had to stall them. Long enough for the authorities to arrive. And for the guy on the beach to wake up.

  But when she aimed an elbow at the man’s ribs he laughed and jerked her closer to him. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

  “Let me go.”

  “Oh, no, sweetheart. I’m not letting you go,” he said. “You have something I want.”

  A shudder worked its way down her spine. No, she didn’t. She had absolutely nothing he wanted. Something told her he didn’t mean her necklace.

  Dread stole through Darci. As much as she wanted to believe the authorities were going to arrive in time, she feared they’d be too late.

  One of the guards picked up the groomsman off the beach and slung him over his shoulder. Another guard forced her across the beach toward the marina.

  His gun barrel pressed into her side as he guided her down the dock.

  She saw a couple strolling toward their yacht on the next dock and knew she had one shot at getting out of this. So without warning, she opened her mouth and called out. The blow that came hard and fast to her jaw cut her off before she made more than a squeak.

  ****

  Darci groaned and forced her eyes open through the migraine pounding in her head. If she didn’t know better she’d think Brian, her band’s drummer, practiced inside her head for their next gig. Her neck felt raw, as if someone had tried to strangle her. But her necklace still rested on her neck.

  Unable to see in the darkness, she heard the hum of a motor below her. A boat. She tried to move, only to find herself bound and gagged. The thought of being gagged made her gag and she fought to keep from choking to death behind the cloth shoved into her mouth.

  She pulled against her bonds but they held tight. Exhausted, she lay still. No use. Even if she did free herself, where would she go? She couldn’t swim well enough to get away.

  The boat turned sharply, throwing her into the wall. The motor powered down and the boat slowed until they came to a complete stop. She heard people moving above her, then footsteps outside her door. She recognized the voice of the American man who had hit her.

  Her door opened a couple minutes later and a light clicked on. Darci blinked against the glare and turned her head away from the man standing in the doorway. She didn’t have to look to know him. She could smell his rancid cologne.

  “Open those pretty blue eyes for me, darling,” he said.

  Darci opened her eyes. Her head already hurt from the first time he’d hit her; she didn’t want to anger him again.

  “That’s better. Come on, up you go.”

  He cut the ropes securing her ankles and dragged her to her feet. The boat rocked beneath her, causing her to bump into the door on her way out.

  “You can call me Heath.” He led her up the stairs to the main deck.

  Heath walked her across the dock past a line of armed guards and onto a beach lit by torches toward a house hidden by trees. The front door opened up into a courtyard with a garden full of colorful flowers in the center. He propelled her through another door that led inside the house, then led her down a hallway and turned along another before pushing her inside a fully furnished bedroom.

  After removing her gag and bonds, Heath moved to lock her inside the room. He paused at the door. “Just so you know, we will find a way to remove that necklace. Whatever trick there is to the clasp will only keep it around your neck until my sister is finished dealing with other matters. Personally, I could care less about it. My interests are more…personal.” With that he closed and locked the door.

  Darci sank down on the bed. Sweet Mercy. A prisoner.

  ****

  Jack groaned and stiffened against his bonds as a fist landed a blow to his side. He swung in a circle, his toes dragging on the floor.

  He received another blow to his kidney. The same kidney. Jack scowled and swung his legs up and around the thug’s neck. The steel cuffs cut cruelly into his wrists as he jerked the guy backward and got a better grip on him, then squeezed until the other two started hammering on him. He’d been doing okay until they hit his bruised ribs and he almost passed out, forced to let go of the guy he had in a chokehold. Dots danced in front of his eyes as he swung on his chain, head bo
wed.

  The door opened and he looked up without lifting his head to see a tall, svelte blond woman walk in. She wore black like her cohorts, her pale green eyes running over him from head to toe. He didn’t remember a woman with the group, but he recognized those boots.

  “Leave us,” she ordered and the three thugs filed out of the room. Once the door shut, she circled around him. Her eyes were cold, yet curious as she studied him. She came to a stop in front of him, her perfume teasing his senses. “You took out two of my men.”

  It took effort, but Jack raised his head, surprised to find himself staring her in the eye. He stood six two. She had to be almost six feet without heels.

  “Who are you?”

  Jack spit a stream of blood on the floor next to her four-inch spike heel and remained silent.

  “You jeopardized a job tonight. I lost a substantial amount of money. You don’t look like the local police, so who are you?”

  Still, he remained silent.

  “Strong, silent type, hmm? Well, I have a cure for that.”

  She turned to go, but he stopped her. “What are you going to do with me?”

  At the door she stopped and turned a feline smile on him, making his blood run cold.

  “Make you pay, of course.” She left the room.

  What the hell had he gotten involved in?

  ****

  “Come on, baby, give it up,” Darci muttered, twisting the straightened bobby pin with a flick of her wrist. She sat on her knees peering through the keyhole on the door. In one hand she held a bobby pin she’d taken out of her hair and straightened so she could use it to jimmy the lock. No way she’d sit around here waiting for Heath to come back. Not after the way he looked at her.

  Good thing she had pinned her hair up this evening or she’d be taking the bed apart searching for a screw that would fit in the lock.

  Closing one eye, she bit down on her lip and turned the pin again, finessing it inside the lock. That should just about…click.

  Darci grinned and carefully twisted the handle. The door snicked open.