The Stripper and the SEAL

by Jenna Bennett

  For a second, the thought raised panic. Then Gabrielle shook her head. “Probably not.” They’d want her alive. To take back to Alex. Who would want to dispatch her himself.

  But at least she wasn’t likely to die tonight. Tomorrow, maybe, but not tonight.

  Jim nodded. “I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

  “Thank you.” She knew she wasn’t alone, that Max’s team was all around even if she couldn’t see them. But even so, it took her a couple of seconds to gather enough courage to open the door. Because while she didn’t think whoever was in the car would try to shoot her, believing it and knowing it were two different thing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jim nodded. And watched as she headed up the walkway to the door. She fumbled the key out and got it into the lock. It took a few seconds, with the way her hands were shaking. And then she pushed the door open before she turned and waved at Jim.

  He raised a hand in response, and pulled away from the curb as Gabrielle stepped inside the townhouse and closed the door behind her.

  “Turn the light on,” a disembodied voice said, and it took all Gabrielle had not to shriek out loud.

  She looked around frantically, until the door to the coat closet opened an inch. “In here.”

  “You want me in there?”

  “No.” She could see a face through the gap. It belonged to the tall SEAL, Gustavsson. “You stay out there. That way, Mad Max won’t kill me.”

  Gabrielle decided to leave that one alone. “I thought you went to Idaho.”

  He grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. “They took the information but declined the offer of help. So Marin and I are still here.”

  “In the closet?”

  He shook his head. “I’m in the closet. Cisco’s in the dining room.”

  Gabrielle glanced at the opening from the foyer into the rest of the house. There was no sign of anyone else, but there probably wouldn’t be.

  “Put your purse down,” Gustavsson told her, “and head up the stairs. Like you’re going to bed. Turn the light out down here, turn it on in the bathroom upstairs. Just do what you’d normally do. Brush your teeth and so on. Leave the rest to us.”

  Gabrielle nodded, her mouth too dry to get any words out. Her knees shook as she headed for the stairs, and she had to use the railing to help herself along. Getting up to the second floor felt like climbing Mt. Everest. Her heart was beating so hard it was difficult to draw a breath.

  She used the switch at the top of the staircase to turn out the light in the stairwell, and plunged the first floor into darkness. Then she followed the faint glow of a nightlight into the bathroom down the hall, and turned on the light above the sink.

  Her toiletries were still there from this morning, when she’d hastily shaken them out across the top of the vanity. Her hands shook when she squeezed the toothpaste tube to get the paste onto the toothbrush, and she watched her own actions sort of distantly, like her hands belonged to someone else.

  If anyone had asked, she couldn’t even have told them why she was so scared. She wasn’t alone. Even if Sergei or Yuri—or Alex himself—made it into the townhouse, there were two Navy SEALs downstairs, maybe more, and they wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She wasn’t in danger. But telling her body that didn’t make much of a difference. Her stomach still cramped and her hands still shook. She lifted the toothbrush and put it in her mouth.

  When it happened, it was pretty anticlimactic.

  Gabrielle had been keeping an ear out for sounds from downstairs, but she hadn’t noticed any. Maybe it was the sound of the water running, or the brush moving around in her mouth. Or maybe it was just the scared buzzing in her ears. Either way, when she straightened from rinsing her mouth and saw Yuri’s reflection in the mirror behind her, he came as a surprise, and for a second, all she could do was stare.

  He grinned at her in the mirror, flashing the gold tooth in the front of his mouth. “Hello, Gabby. Alex wants to see you.”

  Gabrielle opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  And then Gustavsson’s head appeared behind Yuri’s in the mirror. And Andy Lee’s, and then a Hispanic looking SEAL Gabrielle assumed must be Cisco Marin, who had made it upstairs from the dining room. And then Yuri disappeared, and there was the sound of commotion outside the door, and the auburn-headed SEAL she’d seen in the bar the first night she’d met Max took his place. “You all right?” he asked her.

  Gabrielle nodded. “He—” Her voice wouldn’t cooperate, and she had to clear her throat and try again. “He didn’t touch me.”

  Rusty nodded, and turned to glance at Yuri, who was bucking and twisting on the floor of the upstairs hallway. “Let’s get him outta here. The FBI should be outside by now.”

  Between them, they hauled Yuri to his feet and marched him downstairs. Gabrielle hastily wiped her mouth before scrambling after them, and watched from the top of the staircase as they took Yuri through the front door and handed him off to a couple of grim-looking guys with FBI in yellow letters across the backs of their jackets.

  The agents shoved him into the back of a black SUV and drove off with him. The SEALs congregated on the front walk. After a moment, Andy Lee came back into the house and looked up at her. “He’s gone. The guy who followed Lieutenant Vasiliev is gone. The FBI picked him up outside the base.”

  Gabrielle nodded. “Max?”

  “The lieutenant’s fine,” Andy Lee told her. “On his way here.”

  Good.

  All of a sudden, Gabrielle’s knees gave out, and she dropped down on the top step of the stairs. “I think I’ll just sit here and wait for him.”

  Chief Lee nodded. “We’ll stay outside until he comes.”

  He turned and walked back to the others. Gabrielle sat where she was and focused on her breathing, in and out in counts of four, and on making her teeth stop chattering.

  An eternity later—or maybe it was only five minutes or so—Max’s truck came roaring up the street, and screeched to a stop. He took the time to greet his men and ask how everything had gone, to make sure the op had been successful and no one was hurt, before he came into the house. But his first look had been for Gabrielle. Just making sure for himself that she was all right. And because it had been, she was able to sit and wait, if not exactly patiently, while he talked to and dismissed his men to their beds.

  Finally he came inside the townhouse, and closed the front door behind him. Outside, she could hear car doors slamming and engines starting as the other SEALs headed home.

  Max didn’t say anything. She didn’t, either. It wasn’t necessary. He just opened his arms, and Gabrielle stumbled down the stairs and into them. And stayed there until her body had stopped shaking and she finally felt warm again.

  And Max seemed to understand. He didn’t move her along. Didn’t speak. Didn’t start touching her, as if assuming her embrace meant she was looking for something else. Something more.

  He just held her. Just stood there, big and strong and safe, and held her until she was ready to step away.

  “Thank you.” She swiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

  He just nodded. And gave her a thorough look. “OK?”

  “Now. It all went really fast, but it was scary for the few minutes it lasted. I guess this—” She gestured to him, and to herself, and the embrace they’d shared, “was reaction.”

  “Reaction can be a bitch.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. “Andy Lee said everything went well.”

  “Very well. Yuri walked upstairs, and they were on him like white on rice. He didn’t have the time to do anything but tell me that Alex wants to see me.” She smiled.

  Max didn’t. He looked awkward. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “About that…”

  Uh-oh.

  “What?” Gabrielle asked, her stomach sinking.

  He glanced at her, his expression rueful. “All day long, I’ve been thinking about how I can get you naked. And whether I could just sweep you
off your feet when I got here. Take advantage of that reaction, and the adrenaline rush, and the need to affirm life, to drag you off to bed without talking to you first.”

  That sounded rather nice, actually. She’d definitely be up for affirming life with him, especially that way.

  “We’re talking,” Gabrielle pointed out.

  He grinned, but shook his head. “We have to talk about tomorrow.”

  “No, we don’t. This can just be about tonight. We don’t have to worry about anything beyond that.”

  “Unfortunately,” Max said, “we do.” He glanced sideways into the living room, and gestured. “C’mon.”

  Gabrielle followed, her heart thudding harder, and watched him sit down on the brown, nubby sofa. He patted the cushion next to him. “Have a seat.”

  Gabrielle was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like whatever it was he had to say, but he’d asked nicely, so she sat. And folded her arms across her midriff, protectively. This would probably be where he’d tell her he didn’t want anything from her but a quick roll in the hay, that someone like him couldn’t be involved with someone like her. He was a hero, someone who risked his life for his country every day of the week. Or at least on the days when he didn’t just have PT at the Navy base.

  And she was a stripper, and an escort, and Trent Engelhart’s mistress: just one step up from a prostitute. Why would he want anything to do with her beyond the obvious? She didn’t deserve someone like him.

  Didn’t deserve to have him look at her with the combination of kindness and concern and worry that was on his face right now.

  Gabrielle made an effort to straighten her spine and be an adult. She could cry after he was gone. “What is it?”

  “We have to talk about tomorrow,” Max said.

  “So you said. And I told you I don’t care about tomorrow.”

  “You will.” He reached for her hand. Gabrielle hesitated, but decided she’d only be depriving herself if she refused. Might as well take what she could get while he offered.

  When he had her hand in his much larger one, he told her, “We might have to go to DC.”

  Gabrielle felt her fingers jerk in his, and felt him tighten his grip, as if he thought she was trying to pull away. She wasn’t. It had just been a shock, that’s all. “Why?”

  Her voice was scratchy, fearful, and she had to clear her throat. “They caught Sergei and Yuri. Why would we want to go to DC?”

  “We don’t want to,” Max said. “But we may not have a choice. If Sergei and Yuri won’t give up Alex, the authorities can’t pull him in just on our say-so.”

  After a second he added, “Hell, I don’t even have a say-so. I just know what you’ve told me. I have no proof. Nor do the authorities.”

  This time Gabrielle did tug on her hand. “If you’re insinuating that I’m lying…”

  “I’m not,” Max said, hanging on. “You heard what Andy Lee said. There are plenty of investigations surrounding Alex Volkov, but no proof of anything.”

  “But Sergei and Yuri…”

  “Probably won’t talk.” His eyes blazed into hers, like blue flames. “That’s how the Bratva works, Gabrielle. I may not know a lot, but I know that. It really is a brotherhood. They’ve got each other’s backs. And the penalties for talking are severe.”

  He let that sink in for a moment, gave her time to remember what he’d told her about his sister, and how he knew what he was talking about. Then he continued. “Sergei and Yuri won’t give up Alex. The Russians in Boise are still running loose, but even if the authorities in Idaho manage to catch up with them, they won’t give up Alex, or whoever gave them the order to kill Judge Collins and his wife. Trent Engelhart sure as hell won’t give up Alex.”

  Gabrielle shook her head. No, Trent would pretend like he’d had nothing to do with any of it. And hope like hell that no one would try to connect him to anything.

  “If we don’t do something,” Max said, and changed it to, “if you don’t do something, Alex gets away with it.”

  “But…” She didn’t want to face Alex.

  Max didn’t say anything, just waited. Gabrielle tried to work through her feelings and put them into words.

  Max already knew she didn’t want to face Alex. That was obvious and didn’t need to be said. “I’m afraid,” she told him.

  He nodded.

  “I know what he’s capable of. He gave the order to kill Judge Collins. He sent Sergei and Yuri to kill me. Or to bring me back to DC so Alex could kill me.”

  Max nodded.

  “I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Max said, “I don’t think he’ll try to do anything to you. Not the second you walk into his office. And we’ll make sure he doesn’t have the chance to do anything to you after that.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t let you do it alone.”

  “You let me do this alone,” Gabrielle reminded him, looking around at the townhouse.

  “That couldn’t be helped. We knew they wouldn’t try for you if I was here. But you were well protected. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Even if I can’t be there myself to stop it, I’ll make sure someone else is, who can.”

  “But you’ll go to DC with me?”

  Max nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. Gabrielle looked down at her hand. She wasn’t a small woman, but it was swallowed by Max’s hand.

  He was big and strong. He was almost supernatural. And yet…

  “I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed. “I’m still afraid.”

  Max squeezed her hand. “I would be, too.”

  Gabrielle snorted. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  He grinned. “You’re right. I know I can take Alex. But I understand that you’re afraid. And you don’t really know me. You don’t have any reason to trust me.”

  “I have every reason to trust you.” And she did. But Max couldn’t be with her every second. And it would only take a second for Alex to pull out a gun and shoot her. One second, sometime when her back was turned, and she’d be dead.

  Max nodded when she said so. “That’s why you need to do this. To put him away, once and for all. So he can’t come after you. Or you’ll be spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”

  “Won’t I be doing that anyway?”

  If she helped put Alex away, wouldn’t he have even more reason to want to get rid of her? Wouldn’t he send someone after her, the way he’d sent Sergei and Yuri? The way he’d sent the Russians to Boise to kill Alastair Collins and his wife?

  “If we put him away,” Max said, “he’ll have more important things to worry about than getting revenge on you.”

  Gabrielle wasn’t too sure about that, but putting Alex behind bars sounded marginally safer than leaving Alex in DC, free to do whatever he wanted. And if they had arrested Sergei and Yuri, and if the police in Boise were on the trail of the Russians there, and caught them… if they could put them all behind bars, along with Alex, maybe she’d be able to draw a deep breath again, without worrying about getting a knife between the ribs.

  She nodded.

  “You’ll do it?”

  “If you’ll stay with me. And help me.”

  “Every step of the way,” Max said.

  12

  They slept together for the rest of the night. They didn’t have sex. Max didn’t ask, and Gabrielle didn’t offer. On the one hand, it might have been nice to lose herself, for a bit, in the heat of it. On the other hand, she knew it for the distraction it would be. So she took what Max offered—warmth, care, comfort, his arms around her all night, keeping her safe so she could sleep—and told herself that once Alex was behind bars, she’d make it up to him. They’d have the best sex ever, and not just because she figured he’d be pretty good at it, and she’d had some practice of her own… but because she was pretty sure by this point she was in love with him, and that he might even be in love with her. Why else would a guy deny hims
elf sex and just hold her all night, if he didn’t care about her beyond the physical?

  At the nine o’clock briefing, Commander Baker laid out the plan, such as it was, and briefed the team on what had happened so far. John Walton was present, and as he had missed most of what had happened yesterday, as well as last night, he needed the update. And then there was the news from Boise.

  “The Idaho Bureau of Investigation caught three Americans of Russian extraction on their way across the state line into Wyoming,” Commander Baker said. He rattled off the names, with a glance at Gabrielle. “Anyone sound familiar?”

  “I think I know who Mischa Ivanov is. Not sure about the other two.”

  Baker nodded. “They all have ties to the Russian mob. They’re all from the East Coast originally. And the GPS in their rental car put them in the neighborhood of the Collins home on the night of the shooting. Idaho feels pretty good about charging them.”

  Gabrielle felt pretty good about Idaho charging them, too.

  “Of course,” Baker added, “they aren’t admitting anything. Or implicating Aleksandr Volkov.”

  Of course not.

  “Sergei and Yuri aren’t, either.”

  Gabrielle hid a grimace. There went her last, semi-secret hope—nursed even after Max told her the plan for today—that she wouldn’t have to go to DC and face Alex because one of his goons had given him up and they didn’t need her help.

  Max glanced at her as if he knew what she was thinking. After a second, even in the presence of all his teammates and his commanding officer, he reached over and took her hand.

  “It’s a lot to ask,” Commander Baker said, and it sounded as if he, too, understood what she was going through. “But it looks like you’re the only one who can do anything about putting him away.”

  Gabrielle didn’t say anything—couldn’t get her voice to work; this was becoming really real, really fast—and he added, “On the positive side, five of his henchmen are gone. His forces may be a bit diminished.”

  “Won’t he be angry about that?”