Hot SEAL, Rusty Nail (SEALs In Paradise)

by Teresa J. Reasor

  “I would.”

  After handing him his coffee, she sat down on the couch to keep from pacing. When the phone rang, she reached for it. “Hello.”

  “This is Jona. He’s offering him the standard contract. The salary isn’t as high as yours, but then he only worked here two years before.”

  She’d been with the firm six years. She’d thought she might one day make partner. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think it through.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Bianchi.”

  Jona’s sympathy caught her off guard, and her eyes stung with quick tears. “Thanks, Jona. I’ll be okay. I still have some time.”

  When she hung up, Connor sat down next to her.

  “You could go in and just say, ‘Fuck it. He’s not running me off.’”

  “I can’t work with him, Connor. He hates my guts for costing him his job. How weird is that? There’s a sense of controlled violence about him when he’s anywhere near me now, and I know it wouldn’t take much for it to tip over into the real thing.

  “He was never that way before. Reed can be very charming when he wants to be, but he’s also very selfish. I knew that, I just didn’t realize how selfish. He really believes he’s entitled to my job. But the truth is he’s a mediocre attorney. And by taking him back in the fold, Johnson is leaving his company open to problems. But if I tell him that, he’ll believe it’s sour grapes because of our ended relationship.”

  “That will be his problem now, Sloane.”

  “Yeah, it will.”

  “It sounds to me like this Reed guy may be on the edge. Does he have money problems?”

  She wouldn’t tell him how stupid she’d been. “He had loans he was paying off when we were together. I don’t know about now. That will be Johnson’s problem, too.” It was almost a relief not to have a choice.

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I’ll take some time after I get back from vacation, probably a month, to switch things over to the other lawyers in the firm. I’ll want to personally pick and choose who my clients go to.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, I can. But I’ll have to do it discreetly.”

  “That way Reed won’t get any of them.”

  “Exactly. Let him start from scratch and bring in his own clients.”

  “I’d have never guessed you’d be so sneaky.”

  She smiled. “I can be when it’s called for.”

  “I like that.”

  She laughed and rose. “I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed.”

  “Can I come, too?”

  She grinned. “As long as you don’t hog all the water.”

  She decided sharing a shower with Connor was the best release from worry and stress she’d ever experienced. His big, strong, sensitive hands working their magic over her wet, soapy back, her shoulders, her breasts, coaxed more than one moan from her.

  Where Reed had been all about the end result, Connor enjoyed extending the pleasure. And she found touching him as exciting as having his hands on her. Running her own soapy hands over his long, lean torso, she explored the flat buds of his nipples with her fingertips while their mouths clung in long, slow, hungry kisses.

  The hard length of his erection rubbed against her belly, and she cupped and stroke every inch of him, proving how perfectly male he was when he grew longer, harder.

  The shower stall wasn’t large enough, so after a hasty rinse they staggered out into bedroom and onto the bed. He was inside her in a second, the warm, slick heat of him nestling in her body, then moving with exquisite friction as he plunged and retreated until the pleasure was too much and she cried out, the orgasm so intense she bowed beneath him. The pulse of his release triggered an aftershock that robbed her of breath.

  When her vision cleared, she focused on his face above her, and her heart tumbled. The intimacy of last night, witnessing his pain and vulnerability, had shifted something inside her. Something she couldn’t acknowledge. It was too soon.

  “Don’t move yet,” she murmured, when he started to leave her. “I just want to feel you close to me.” She’d missed a closeness she never had with Reed. But Connor was here, solid, tender, filling the emptiness and taking away the hurt.

  “I forgot to use a condom, Sloane,” he announced with just a hint of concern.

  “I’m clean. After I found out about…” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name while they were still connected so intimately. “I was tested several times.”

  “You don’t have to worry about anything with me either.”

  Her eyes dropped from his face to the steady pulse in his throat. “You don’t have to worry about pregnancy either. I only have a one in a million chance of getting pregnant.”

  A cell phone rang, a ring tone Sloane never heard before. Connor pulled away, rolled off the bed to grab up his jeans and jerked his phone free. “Evans,” he answered. His intent, almost harsh expression changed his face to a stranger’s. When he started talking about where he was and how many hours it would take to get back, Sloane slipped off the bed, gathered her clothes, and went into the bathroom to clean up.

  He was leaving. The realization cramped her stomach and tore at her heart. She’d thought he was gone for good the night before and she was granted a reprieve. But not this time.

  Feeling lost, disoriented, she dressed and brushed her teeth and hair.

  Going from being inside Sloane to dressing and leaving like this seemed completely wrong. When she came out of the bathroom, he couldn’t think of a thing to say to her, so he just kept to the facts. “There’s been a development and I’ve been called back to San Diego.” He had a choice. He was on leave and he didn’t have to return. But he’d asked to be involved in this particular takedown. He wanted it. Needed it.

  But he needed Sloane, too. Something that had become evident the night before. She needed him, too.

  He took two long steps, reached for her, and cupped her shoulders. “I know you haven’t had any experience with what it’s like to be a SEAL’s girlfriend. When I’m called up, I have to go, Sloane.”

  She nodded, and for a moment he thought she might cry, but she held it together—which made him proud of her at the same time his lungs tightened.

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I understand.”

  “Thank you for last night, Sloane. I really needed someone to hold on to.”

  “I did you, too.”

  Her response gave him pause. “Once we’re wheels up, I may be in a place where I can’t get a call out. I won’t know until I get there. But as soon as I’m able to, I’ll call you.”

  She nodded. She cleared her throat. “Do you need me to drive you to the airport?”

  “Yeah, that would be good. I’m flying out of Savannah. It’s an hour’s drive, and it’ll save Dad from having to pick up his car in short-term parking. If it’s okay, I’ll leave it here, and call him to pick it up.” His hands moved restlessly, smoothing her hair, gripping her hands.

  “You’re not going back to get your things?”

  “No, there isn’t time. The earliest flight I could get leaves in two hours.”

  He gripped her hands hard. “When I get back, we’ll finish our challenge, Sloane. I want more time with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “This will be my last deployment. I’ve signed the paperwork and it’s ready to go in the mail. I’ll get Dad to send it for me.”

  But it might be weeks—it could be months. He still belonged to Uncle Sam for four more months. And she’d go on with her life. Anything could happen.

  But this mission might help him finish something that had haunted him for months. And he’d be able to leave the teams with nothing left undone.

  He wasn’t throwing away something special. He planned to come back to something new he’d just started. “We’re not ending anything. We’re just postponing things for a
little while. I hope you’ll wait for me.”

  CHAPTER 14

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  4 Weeks later

  Sloane scanned the café as she waited for Amy Schumer. The place was only open part of the day, and stayed busy from opening to closing. The large windows let in the midsummer sun while a wall of greenery brought the outdoors into the space. Though they had outdoor seating, she’d opted for a corner table for two so she and Amy would have some privacy.

  When she saw her enter the café, she stood so Amy wouldn’t have to look for her. As Amy walked toward her, Sloane was struck by her tall, elegant figure. Reed wasn’t really consistent with any type. The secretary was short and plump, the intern thin and delicate. Amy was as a big a departure from Sloane’s own coloring and curves as the others.

  “Thanks for joining me,” she said as Amy reached her.

  Amy swept a gorgeous fall of blond hair back over her shoulder. “I don’t really want to trade war stories about Reed.”

  “That’s not why I called you.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “He’s returned to Hadley, Childers, and Johnson.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how uncomfortable that must be for you.”

  “Not nearly as uncomfortable as I want to make it for him. I want to take him down. No one at your father’s firm can talk to me, so I’m hoping you’re still mad enough to dish some dirt on him to help me do that.”

  Amy’s smile was gleeful. “I’d love to do that. And I might just know a few people at the office who might talk to you off the record as well.”

  It seemed Reed had a habit of making enemies wherever he went, along with his inability to remain faithful. “Please have a seat.”

  Forty-five minutes later, when she left the café, she felt more hopeful than she had since returning from vacation. Amy was more forthcoming than she’d expected, and even promised to have a couple of friends call Sloane later.

  When her phone rang, she thought it might be her office calling, but the number was odd. It had a country code at the beginning. “Hello?”

  “Sloane?”

  She had never believed that a heart could leap, but hers did. “Connor. Are you okay?” She moved farther away from the restaurant, toward her car, so she could hear better.

  “I’m good. How are you doing now you’re back to work?”

  “It’s been busy and awkward. Reed is back. He moved back into his office before I got back from vacation.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him. I’m keeping my distance and so is he.”

  “Hang tough, you’ve got this.”

  Her eyes stung at his support. “Are you eating okay and staying safe?”

  “Yeah. It’s hot, muggy and buggy. You’d be bathing in bug repellent. I am most of the time.”

  He was somewhere south. Was it buggy in the desert? “Do you know how long you’ll be? Forget I asked that. I know you can’t tell me.”

  “No, I can’t, honey. I know I don’t have any right to ask you to wait for me. We only had five days together.”

  “Almost six. You owe me a dive and a jazz concert, so I’m going to hold you to those as soon as you get back.”

  He fell silent for a moment. “You’ve got it, I promise. How’s Bernie?”

  “She’s good. All the bruising is gone, and she got two weeks of being waited on hand and foot out of it.”

  He chuckled.

  “Have you talked to your father?”

  “No, this is the first time I’ve gotten access to the phone, and I’m hoping you’ll be willing to call him for me.”

  “Of course. He called me after you left just to reassure me you’d be okay.”

  “I’m glad. He mailed the last of the paperwork for me, Sloane. This will be my last deployment.”

  “It will go by fast.” Oh God, don’t let anything happen to him, this close to getting out. “We’ll go out and celebrate as soon as you get back.”

  “It’s a date. You haven’t interviewed for another job yet, have you?” he asked.

  “No. Not yet. I decided to look into some things first.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Background dirt on Reed. He’s too good, too polished at what he does. I think he’s pulled this crap before, so I’m looking into some recent developments.”

  “Be careful, Sloane. When you stand between an asshole and what he thinks he deserves, there could be some kickback.” Static nearly drowned out his last word, then cleared.

  “I’ll be careful.” Her throat ached with tears she tried to suppress. “I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time before we made love. I wanted to that first night.”

  “I did too. I guess it was pretty obvious.”

  She laughed. “Yes. We’ll make up for lost time when you’re home.”

  “Now I won’t be able to think of anything else.”

  There was noise on the other end of the phone. Sharp, loud noises that had her heart lunging into her throat.

  “I have to go.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s just the guys coming in from the field. No worries.”

  “Okay.” Legs weak with relief, she leaned back against her car. “Call me whenever you can,” she managed.

  “I will, Sloane.”

  The phone went dead.

  Connor’s thoughts drifted to Sloane for the hundredth time in the two hours since he took over surveillance from blue team. He’d been replaying their conversation She’d sounded good. Strong. The best thing was she still wanted to see him when he got back. Surprising after four weeks of no contact.

  He was still shocked that he’d opened up to her. He was torn between embarrassment and relief when he thought about it. The way she wrapped herself around him. God, he needed to get her out of his head and concentrate on the front door through the scope.

  He sick of waiting for Diaz. He wanted the drug kingpin responsible for the murder of numerous people in the region to show himself. Cowering in the stronghold the man called a house, he rarely left it without an army for protection.

  The only place he went was his mistress’s house. The mistress lived next door to a family who had been unlucky enough to get in the way of Diaz and his men during a visit. A stray bullet fired by the fucker at her father injured and killed the little girl, and she bled to death before they could do anything for her.

  That was months ago, and the fucker was still breathing. Still wreaking havoc on the innocent people around him—him, his drug distribution network, and his thugs, who’d as soon kill a child as look at her. Just like their boss.

  Connor had dealt with injured and dying kids before, but something about the little girl, the look in her eyes as she bled to death, stuck with him. She had dark eyes like his Livy. Was the same age. It didn’t take a headshrinker to figure out why it bothered him so much. Hell, It had gotten to all the men up in arms.

  But now he had the El Salvadorian and American governments’ permission to take the fucking monster down. He just had to catch him waving a gun around, threatening someone, and he could do it.

  But that was the trick. He had to prove an imminent threat to someone before he could pull the trigger. They’d been watching all afternoon, hoping to catch some kind of action going down, while another sniper team was set up across town, waiting at another location, hoping for the same thing when Diaz returned from his visit to his mistress.

  El Salvador, Ecuador, and Honduras were the three countries in an area known as the western triangle, the most violent areas in South America. All three territories were run by drug kingpins, their distributors and gangs.

  Every nineteen hours a woman was killed in El Salvador by gang members. It was a common gang initiation ritual to rape and murder women of all ages. Gangs were the reason behind the hundreds of women fleeing the country to seek asylum in America. Gangs born in the United States had migrated south, where they could p
rey on a less-protected population.

  The rise of Carlos Diaz had finally sent alarm bells off with the El Salvadorean government. And they had reached out for help. If Connor’s team could take out Diaz and some of his henchmen, the Salvadorian government and its army might gain better control of the region, and help prevent the drugs from reaching the U.S.

  Seaman D. B. Sutton, the FNG—Fucking New Guy—on the team, was acting as his spotter. He had completed his training as a sniper, but needed more experience in the field, so they were paired. The FNG was doing okay aside from eating more than any three guys and not gaining a pound. Even as he thought it, D. B. said, “Hungry, yet, Hammer?”

  Connor never wavered his attention from the scope he watched through. At least he was more comfortable here than he’d been in many other environments. He had a sleeping bag to cushion his position atop the table, a bathroom, and with so many other windows in the area, no one would pinpoint where the shot had come through fast enough to shoot back.

  “No, not hungry yet, but you can go ahead and feed your tapeworm.” He couldn’t see D. B.’s smile, but he sensed it.

  “He can wait awhile yet.”

  The door to the house they were survielling opened. “We have movement.”

  D.B. jerked his binoculars up and focused in on the house.

  Diaz emerged, his hand locked around the wrist of a woman—his mistress, Yessenia. She’d been roughed up, her face bloody. Though she fought against him, he dragged her out of the house, across the stoop, and down the stairs.

  “Three kids are in the doorway, but they’re staying put,” D.B. said.

  Diaz beckoned to one of his men, and the guy rushed up. He removed a gun from beneath his jacket and handed it butt-first to his boss. Diaz pulled the trigger and shot the man in the chest three times.

  “I’m taking the shot,” Connor focused in on Diaz’s body mass, released his breath and pulled the trigger.

  Blood blossomed on Diaz’s white shirt, and he dropped. The woman leapt to her feet, ran back into the house, and slammed the door.

  For a minute chaos reigned. The protection detail in Diaz’s party stayed hunkered down behind vehicles, waiting for more gunfire.