by Zoe York
Contents
Title
About This Book
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Assignment: Caribbean Nights
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About the Author
Copyright
BOUND
BY THE
SEAL
ZOE YORK
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Sometimes enemies make really fun bedmates…
Navy SEAL Brayden Lucas assumes that when he detains a burglar at the Caribbean plantation he’s house-sitting, it’ll be a straightforward matter of figuring out who the would-be thief is and turning her in to the authorities if need be.
That was before he tied her up, and they started talking.
But the truth is there’s nothing straightforward about Arielle Day. Not the way she lights him up inside, or the secrets she’s obviously keeping.
And nothing is going to stop Brayden from exploring the explosive chemistry between them…
ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights
Duchess Island by Kat Cantrell
Commanding Her SEAL
Claiming Her SEAL
Revealing Her SEAL
Redeeming Her SEAL
Protecting Her SEAL
Miralinda Island by Zoe York
Ruined by the SEAL
Bound by the SEAL
Cherished by the SEAL
Bought by the SEAL
Angel Cay by Anne Marsh
Sweet for a SEAL
Her One Best SEAL
The Trouble with SEALs
Still Her SEAL
Visit us at Navy SEAL Romance and never miss a story in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series!
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DEDICATION
For my readers, who are infinitely patient. Thank you for loving this world so much.
ONE
AFTER TWELVE YEARS AS A NAVY SEAL, BRAYDEN LUCAS WAS A CIVILIAN AGAIN.
It was a weird-ass feeling.
He waved at his former fellow SEAL and brand-new business partner, Mick Frasier, waiting on the other side of the customs hut at the Miralinda International Airport.
Beside Mick stood a gorgeous island woman with caramel skin and crazy brown and golden hair that spiraled in long curls all around her head, spilling over her shoulders. Brayden still couldn’t believe that Mick had come down here to lay claim to a plantation and ended up finding a fiancée instead.
The plantation thing had turned out to be more complicated than their buddy, Will Parry, had expected. The third SEAL, grandson of a billionairess, had been under the mistaken impression he’d inherited Villa Sucre. But since he was still contracted to Uncle Sam for another six months, he’d sent Mick down to sort it out.
Brayden was supposed to follow when they were ready to break ground on a new executive training facility.
Now Mick was getting married, the plantation was still tied up in estate legal mumbo-jumbo in New York City, and Brayden wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing here.
Except soaking up the sun.
That sounded damn fine.
And maybe finding a willing bedmate.
But first he had an empty plantation to babysit, because Mick and Cara were heading to the far side of the island for some much needed alone time—alone and not wrapped up in the unexpected drama and work around untangling the estate complications.
“Hey man,” he said with an easy grin and a firm handshake. “And this…” He turned his attention from his buddy to the woman on his buddy’s arm. “Must be Cara.”
“Hello, Brayden.” Her eyes twinkled. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“All mine.” He winked. “And now you’re going to put me to work, hmm?”
“Nothing to it, I promise.” She glanced at the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Do you have any more luggage than that?”
He shook his head. More would arrive, eventually, but he didn’t need much.
“Then let’s go!”
Cara’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Brayden didn’t miss that Mick mostly just watched his fiancée—or that the man looked ridiculously happy. And chill.
“Island life looks good on you,” Brayden said under his breath as they followed the petite bombshell through the airport terminal.
“Feels good, too.” Mick rolled his shoulders in. “Sometimes life goes in an unexpected direction, and it’s just…right. I don’t know how or why, but I’m grateful as fuck.”
“Good.” Brayden cut himself off, because they’d stopped in front of a small hatchback…and an even smaller moped.
“No.”
Cara just laughed. “But of course. We will take my car, so you can ride Mick’s moped.”
“No,” he said, repeating his objection a little more forcefully. “Hell no? No to the no. Where is the nearest car dealership?”
~
Three hours later, Brayden shifted uncomfortably on the hard, wooden chair in the stifling hot used car sales office and regretted ever coming to Miralinda.
Definitely regretted not taking Mick’s moped, no matter how ridiculous it was.
The hinge on the swinging door squeaked behind him as the salesman returned. “Many apologies, Mr. Lucas.”
Brayden swallowed his first response and just nodded.
“But we now have all the required documentation, so thank you for your patience. If you’ll follow me, we can get you back on the road.”
Well, hot damn. He leapt up in one fluid motion and gestured for the salesman to lead the way. “After you.”
Ten minutes later, he was behind the wheel of a bad-ass Jeep, top off and windows down, heading toward Petite Ciotat, and the Villa Sucre plantation.
He stopped in town to grab some beer, because it would be rude to drink all of Mick’s, then headed to the plantation. Cara’s neatly drawn map was precise and helpful, and he found the bunkhouse without any difficulty.
Mick had already begun renovations to this building, carving out an apartment of sorts for himself and Cara. But there was another set of bedrooms at the back where Brayden and Will could stay in the short-term.
In the long-term, he imagined he’d move into town.
They’d need office space separate from the plantation now that things were complicated. Their entire business model might need to be revised. Shit, stuff like that gave him a headache.
He’d turned down the next contract offer and hung up his uniform to come down here and put his old construction experience to good use.
Now that the renovations were in limbo, Brayden wasn’t much use to Mick and Will. They were both smarter than him. Slicker, and better able to do the smooth-talking with the potential clients they hoped to bring on board for their new executive training program.
Brayden could train them once they were here. He’d been a BUD/S instructor. A few CEOs would be a piece of cake.
It was getting them here…planning how to do that. He was lost there, and didn’t like the feeling.
But he could find them office space. That
would be his tomorrow project. One to-do item at a time, and one day he’d look up and the project would be underway. Just like a ruck march. One step at a time. Don’t worry about what the finish line looked like. All that mattered was the next step. Taking it. Never giving up.
He dumped his bag on his bunk, then grabbed a beer and headed out to take a tour of the property before it got dark.
The ocean access was rocky, but there were enough sandy parts to call it a private beach. He sat on a large, flat rock as he finished his drink. He knew enough guys who’d done this transition to civilian life to know the unsettled feeling was to be expected, but he didn’t have to like it.
After he drained the last drop of beer, he headed back up the path toward the bunkhouse. But when he burst into the clearing and had a clear view of the plantation house, he pulled up short.
A light flickered in an upstairs window. A quick flash that disappeared. It wasn’t totally dark yet, but it was dusky enough that he knew it wasn’t a reflection of sunlight.
He waited, watching.
Another flash, this one from another part of the room.
So much for having the place all to himself.
He pulled out his phone.
~
Arielle’s heart pounded as she moved through the empty rooms. She couldn’t find any sign of a hidden door. Daddy, what the hell kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?
She moved closer to a closet tucked in the corner. The door was already ajar, so she nudged it open and peered inside. Nothing. She shone the light up at the ceiling, then along the back wall.
With a frown, she moved on to the next room. It was exactly the same, just flipped, mirror-image to the one beside it. Same closet and everything, she thought as she stepped back.
Weird, though, that the closets were shoved to the corners like that, and not very wide. Seemed like a waste of space—
Her heartbeat sped up as she stared at the stretch of blank wall in front of her.
The closet was on her right.
The other room’s closet would be on her left.
So what was in the middle?
She ran her hands over the plaster. It felt like a solid wall. No hiding spots or hidden doors.
Maybe in the other room.
Her pulse pounding, she dashed into the corridor—and straight into a big, unyielding body that not only stopped her, but spun her around and pressed her against the wall so quickly she didn’t even get a look at the guy’s face.
Before she could scream, a hand pressed against her mouth.
Hot breath brushed against her ear. “Who are you?” asked a warm, masculine voice.
How was she supposed to answer that? His hand was over her mouth. She thought about biting him, but she didn’t know what she was dealing with here. A shiver racked through her as fear climbed to the top of her feelings pile. It sat itself down right on top of regret, which was squishing anger. Worry was suffocating somewhere at the bottom, but it was there, too…
What if this guy knew about her father?
What if she was out of time?
“Arreee Daaay,” she mumbled into his palm, straddling the line between compliance and annoyance.
“If I take my hand away, are you going to scream?”
She shook her head. If he wanted to hurt her, he’d had his chance. He wanted information, whoever he was. Okay. She could give him information. In exchange for clues she could hopefully use herself.
Because as soon as she got away from this lunatic, she was going to the police.
This was insane.
He slowly withdrew his hand from her mouth. His other one remained clamped around her wrists, though. She tugged her arm, but he just tightened his grip. Okay, so he wasn’t letting her go just yet.
“Arielle Day,” she muttered. “Do I get your name?”
“No. Come on.” He jerked her away from the wall and moved her forward, shifting his hold on her from her wrists to her upper arms. But even though her hands were free now, she still didn’t have any leverage. And she didn’t know what he looked like other than he was big.
Her heart tripped over itself at the top of the stairs, but whoever he was, he’d done this before. Somehow he moved them both down the stairs effortlessly, even lifting her when her feet got tangled up.
That’s what being scared out of your mind will do—make you clumsy and stupid, clearly.
Oh, God.
Daddy, I’m going to kill you. Right after I rescue you.
The good news was, she had a totally reasonable cover story for being here. And since she was a totally law-abiding citizen, and a high-school teacher to boot, she could play the innocent card.
Right up until she got a chance to flee.
Then she was kicking this guy in the nads or whacking him over the head with something heavy. Maybe both.
He shoved her into the kitchen. It was dark, like the rest of the mansion, but she could make out a backpack open on the table.
He’d come prepared for something.
Was he looking for the same thing she was?
Was he armed?
Her fingers shook at the thought of firing a gun. But she could do it. Maybe. Probably.
To save her life, of course she could.
Pull your shit together, Arielle. Watch and think and listen. Wait for an opportunity and then act without hesitation.
Sometimes being raised by a criminal had its advantages.
A chair bumped into the back of her legs a split-second before his hand landed heavy on her shoulder, pressing her down. “Sit.”
Her thighs tensed, but she complied. A mistake, she realized, as soon as he looped rope around her wrists. “What are you doing?”
He grunted. “Securing you.”
“I’m not a threat to you. Have I even fought back?”
“You’ve thought about it.”
Well, yeah, because she wasn’t an idiot. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Then start talking and tell me what you’re doing here.” He didn’t stop with the rope, though. Her arms were…secure. Damn it. He knew what he was doing. It felt like maybe double column ties securing her arms independently to the slats in the chair.
“I’m being tied up by a stranger,” she pointed out. Her sass would almost definitely be her downfall, but she couldn’t help herself.
At least he laughed. “And before that?”
“Pinned against a wall. Really, I think we should talk about the assault and battery charges that should be laid against you.”
“Okay.” He moved around in front of her, giving her a look at him for the first time. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and tan skin. Caucasian, and from his accent, American. “Let’s talk about how you broke into my workplace and I simply used reasonable force to detain you.”
A sudden wave of relief washed through her. He was a friend of Mick’s. “You’re one of the SEALs.”
He raised one eyebrow. “That’s not really any of your business.”
“I’m a friend of Cara’s.”
He nodded and knelt in front of her. “That’s a good cover story.” He cupped his hand around her calf and nudged her closer to the leg of the chair. “But I called Cara and she said nobody would be here this weekend.”
“Call her back.”
He knotted the rope off and moved to her other leg. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
“Why the hell not?” Now that she knew who he was, she wasn’t holding back. He was tying her to a chair, for God’s sake. “Let me go! This is ridiculous.”
He paused and looked up at her. Even in the darkening room, she could make out the determination on his face. “What’s ridiculous is that you’d come here when your so-called friend is away, and go room-to-room with a flashlight instead of just turning on the lights. Ridiculous would be letting you go after I apprehend you for obviously criminal behavior. So we’re going to sit and wait here, together.”
“Wait for what?”
>
He shrugged. “Cara to come back from an evening cruise out at sea. Or I can call the police. Your choice.”
Her heart sank. She’d forgotten that Mick and Cara had a dinner cruise booked. Damn it. Their cell phones wouldn’t work out on the ocean.
And despite what she’d thought about calling the police before…that was hasty. Especially when she knew this guy in front of her wasn’t a threat.
Even though he’d tied her up.
She lifted her chin and gave him an obstinate look. “Fine. Then we wait.”
Little did he know that she knew a thing or two about being tied up. And being patient.
Arielle Day knew how to be a good girl, all right.
TWO
BRAYDEN STEPPED BACK FROM THE BOUND INTRUDER AND TURNED ON THE OVERHEAD LIGHT IN THE KITCHEN.
He needed a better look at her.
Whoever she was—and he doubted she was a true friend of Cara’s—she was pretty. Probably used to using that to her advantage, but he wouldn’t be swayed. Instead, he’d look for any small tell that gave away the cracks in her story, that exposed her weakness.
Everyone had a soft underbelly. He just had to figure out what hers was.
Right now, she wasn’t even looking at him. Her long, glossy dark hair swung around her face as she twisted a bit in her chair. She was smart—she wasn’t pulling enough to tire herself out. Probably just trying to get a mental picture on the knots he’d used.
He could call her on that. Calmly tell her what he’d done, with total confidence the knowledge wouldn’t help her, and at the same time fire a shot across her bow—“I know what you’re doing, pretty girl, and it’s not going to help you.”
But that wasn’t his style. He didn’t gloat.
