SEAL Warriors

by Katie Knight

  Sam squeaked and froze.

  “Easy, darling.”

  In the light of the full moon streaming through the skylights, Jack stood with his shoulder against the doorjamb, dressed in tattered jeans and a white T-shirt. A bottle of soda dangled from his fingers. Judging from his tousled hair, he’d been outside on the balcony awhile before wandering down to the master bath.

  Sam reached over and turned off the whirlpool jets then resumed her reclined position. Legs bent, knees barely breaking the water’s surface, she smiled. “Can I have a sip of your soda?”

  A hint of a smile appeared as he pushed off the door and ambled forward. Passing off the drink to her, he sat on the edge of the recessed tub, his back against the tile wall.

  Sam nearly choked on her overwhelming desire to run her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, or his tanned skin that stood in sharp contrast to the lighter marble. She settled for enjoying the fizzy rush of sugar from the soda, taking a healthy swallow from the bottle. Sweetness hit her tongue, warming her insides, calming her.

  Jack bounced one knee and tapped a matching rhythm on his knee with his thumb, as if he were nervous. Sam leaned forward and placed her hand over his, stilling its motion. His gaze shot to hers, a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in its depths, and tension rushed back in between them.

  “I’m glad Zeke’s going to be okay,” she said, for lack of anything better. Paramedics had patched up the marshal at the scene—the injury hadn’t been serious enough for him to need a hospital.

  Jack snorted, a humorless sound. “Yeah. Me too.”

  She took another swig of soda, then passed the bottle back.

  He turned it over in his hands. “For some reason, this isn’t doing the trick tonight.” Setting the bottle aside, he sighed. “It’s a lot. Losing the love of your life, only to get a second chance. Then, before you can wrap your head around the idea, that second chance is almost snatched away again.”

  Sam’s breath hitched as the full meaning of Jack’s words sank in. He loved her too.

  “I’m sorry this is so hard,” Jack whispered, his gaze holding hers a moment longer before he picked up the bottle and downed the rest of the soda in one long gulp. He stood and Sam feared he was going to leave. But he only crossed to the vanity instead. Bracing his hands on it, he straightened his arms and hung his head. “It is what it is.”

  Sam didn’t think twice, about her actions or the fact she was dripping wet and naked. Needing to comfort Jack, she stepped out of the tub and laid his hands on his back, yearning to soothe this brave, honest, wonderful man. “Jack. Sweetheart.”

  He was on her the next instant. Spinning, Jack slammed them against the wall at the end of the vanity, trapping Sam between smooth, cold marble and a hard, hot body. “I need you so badly.”

  “You’ve got me,” she said, ducking her head beneath Jack’s chin, inhaling his scent of soap and citrus and warm, clean male. She kissed his neck, tracing her tongue over his skin, returning some of the sensory overload that Jack had unleashed on her that night at the cabin.

  Jack shivered, his arms tensing where they were braced on either side of Sam’s head. Gliding her hands down his torso, Sam snuck them under his damp T-shirt, seeking the warm skin underneath. “I need...”

  His breath grew shallow. “What do you need, darling?”

  So many things. But right then, all she wanted was Jack on her, in her, connected as only they could be. Sam flattened a hand over Jack’s chest. His pulse pounded in time with hers. “You. I need you. Only you.”

  He tangled his fingers in Sam’s wet hair and forced her to meet his heated gaze. “You still have to testify. And then you’re back in witness protection with a new identity. Nothing’s guaranteed.”

  “I know. I’m not looking for guarantees.” Sam lowered a hand between them, palming Jack’s erection through his jeans. “I just need you.”

  Jack kissed her then, and Sam was pulled under, just like she was every time they were together. Moaning, she opened her mouth and Jack’s tongue darted inside, tangling with hers. She tasted soda and searing desire.

  Her legs went weak at the onslaught of sensation and Jack caught her, sliding his hands over her bare behind, hauling her up against his straining erection. His growl reverberated against her mouth and echoed off the marble walls, sending all the heat flaring inside Sam straight to her core.

  Just like in those romantic movies she loved, Jack picked her up and laid her on the floor in the blink of an eye. The fluffy rug beneath them cushioned her landing. Still, Sam had to chuckle. “There’s a perfectly good bed right out there.” She tilted her head toward the bedroom, even as she worked to undo Jack’s fly.

  Straddling her hips, Jack tugged off his T-shirt. Unable to resist, Sam ran her hands up his washboard abs and firm pecs, the smattering of hair there tickling her palms.

  Jack grinned and pinned her back to the floor with his hands and mouth. “And there’s a perfectly good rug right here.”

  Sam giggled and Jack ground his hips against her, the rough denim wreaking havoc on her already frayed control. Craving more, she ran her hands down Jack’s back and inside the waistband of his boxers. Then slipped her fingers inside and brought them forward to grasp his erection. She was so entranced by the feel of his hot, velvet hardness in her hand, by the taste of his lips, by the sensual motion of his hips, that she could have stayed there all night.

  He had other ideas. Jack pulled free and Sam’s heart crashed against her ribs at the level of hunger in his eyes. The same hunger raging inside her.

  She started to get up. “Bed now?”

  “Nope.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, keeping her where she was. “What’ve you got against the floor?”

  If he wanted to play this game, Sam was more than happy to give him a run for his money. “You’re not on it with me anymore. And we need to be quiet. I don’t want to wake Glory.”

  “Oh, I can be good and quiet. Don’t worry, darling.” Growling, Jack stripped off his jeans and boxers then rifled through his kit on the counter, searching for a condom, Sam supposed.

  Seconds later, Jack returned to her side on the floor. Sam couldn’t keep her hands off him. Touching, stroking. When he went to put on the condom, she stopped him. “No, let me do it.”

  While he worshipped her breasts, she stroked his length, circling her thumb over the head, before diving lower and cradling his balls. Bending, he teased her nipples with teeth and tongue, and Sam bit back a groan. She yanked Jack down for another kiss with one hand, the other tracing up his torso, her nails scratching his skin. She put the condom on him.

  “I want to taste you first.”

  The warm wetness of Jack’s mouth kissed down her neck and chest, lower, lower, until he settled between her thighs. At the first trace of his tongue over her slick folds, Sam bucked hard, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets that weren’t there, encountering only cold, hard marble beyond the rug. She finally held on to the lip of the tub with one hand and Jack’s hair with the other, as she anchored herself against the building waves.

  She bit her lip harder to contain the groans of pleasure building inside her as Jack blissfully tormented her to within an inch of climax. He teased and stroked her until she couldn’t take anymore and toppled over the edge into orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure cascaded through her while Jack gently eased her back to reality. Finally, she smoothed her fingers through his hair and begged him to stop. “Please. I need you inside me…”

  Jack settled atop her, his skin hot against hers, just the way she craved—Sam wanted to be owned, completely. He held the tip of his erection at her wet entrance, teasing her with what was to come.

  Sam licked her lips. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love you, Jack.”

  “I love you too, darling. More and more every day.” He kissed her sweetly, then rocked against her again, driving her need for him higher. “You want it slo
w and sweet or fast and hard?”

  As nice as slow and sweet sounded, she needed him too badly. “Give it to me, baby. Fast and hard.”

  Jack obliged, fully driving himself into her in one long thrust. Then he held still, allowing her to adjust to the size of him, kissing her gently, his forehead resting against hers. Their bodies settled into the intimate embrace, fitting seamlessly together again. He moved within her, setting up a steady rhythm that had them both near the edge of bliss again soon.

  Sam grasped Jack’s hip, keeping him close, building friction as he drove inside her. As their movements quickened, Jack reached a hand between them to stroke her slick folds.

  Surrounded by everything she’d ever wanted and needed—Jack, his love, her daughter sleeping safe and sound in the room down the hall—it was only seconds before Sam reached her release again. Jack wasn’t far behind, kissing her long and slow and deep, his cries filling her mouth as he too climaxed hard. Tightening her fingers on Jack’s side, Sam held him close as they lay on the floor, panting together. Sam had never felt anything so right in all her life.

  A small eternity later, Jack rolled off her. Sam turned on her side to watch him as he moved around the bathroom, cleaning up, pulling on his boxers. It was quite a nice view. One she’d like to have for the rest of her life.

  “Bed now.” Jack bent and scooped her up in his arms. “I think we’ve had enough of the bathroom floor for one evening.”

  “Now who’s the hater,” Sam teased in mock protest, but he silenced her with another searing kiss.

  They fell into bed together, a mass of tired, sated limbs. Sam cuddled into his side, throwing an arm around his chest and a leg over his thigh.

  Jack’s warm breath tickled her neck. “One more day, then we can put all this nonsense behind us and start a real life together.” He punctuated his words with a kiss on the top of Sam’s head. “If that’s what you want.”

  She couldn’t believe he was willing to give up everything to go into the program with her. But if he was willing, she wasn’t going to argue. Not when it was everything she wanted. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That’s exactly what I want. I love you, Jack.”

  “I love you too, Sam.” He relaxed beneath her, his breaths evening out in sleep. She struggled to do the same, her body on board with slumber but her mind racing ahead to her testimony tomorrow. It was a huge day, a scary day, considering she’d have to face her father again after all this time. But with Jack by her side, she felt stronger. For a future with Jack, she’d do whatever was necessary.

  29

  The day of her testimony was the sixth day of Stefan Engel’s trial. Media had been banned from the courtroom, so they clustered outside the US District Courthouse on the sidewalk, cameras rolling and reporters all jostling for position. The building itself was a shiny black monolith, all glass and coated steel. Sam gripped Jack’s hand tighter as they walked the gauntlet of the entrance, her face lowered and her pulse racing. Zeke and his team surrounded them, keeping the nosy onlookers away.

  Inside, it was the standard government issue décor—marble, flags, lots of plaques on the walls of former judges who’d served in the jurisdiction. Sam didn’t really take any of it in, just kept walking toward the courtroom where her father’s trial was being held. She’d left Glory back at the hotel with one of the female agents from Zeke’s team and plenty of armed guards posted outside the hotel room door to ward off any trouble.

  They walked through a set of large, heavy wooden doors and into a bland looking courtroom. Past rows of benches filled with gawkers for the proceedings. Through the tiny wooden gate at the front. Down the middle of two long conference tables set to face each other, one for the defense, one for the prosecution.

  The judge entered, and a hush fell over the room as they all stood. Once seated again, the bailiff opened another door on the opposite side of the room and in walked her father, dressed in one of the slick designer suits he loved, the cuffs of his jacket discreetly hiding the restraints on his wrists. His hair was a bit grayer than the last time Sam had seen him, but the malevolent look in his dark eyes was the same. His gaze lingered on her only long enough to register she was there. His expression of disgust let her know in no uncertain terms that, no matter the outcome of her testimony today, she was dead to him. The realization had little effect on her. Given his heinous actions and behavior, he’d been dead in her heart a long time ago. The officers sat him down in a seat directly across from her. He glared at her, as if trying to incinerate her where she sat.

  Her father’s attorney, a slick as sin weaselly-looking man, was the perfect guy to defend a mobster. She assumed he was the best money could buy. Her father would settle for nothing less.

  She hazarded a glance out at the gallery and found Zeke and his team standing guard at the back of the courtroom. Jack had taken a seat in the front row, his gaze steady and warm on her, giving her the courage she needed to get this done.

  Finally, the jury was brought in and took their seats in the box against the wall.

  The judge banged his gavel on the desk, bringing the court to order. A combination of nerves and numbness made the whole scene surreal to Sam. As if in a dream, she heard her name called and the bailiff walked her up to the witness stand. She was sworn in, then took her seat. Up here, with all eyes on her, her skin felt too tight and her clothes rubbed her in all the wrong places. Heat prickled her cheeks and if she hadn’t had Jack there in the front row, with his calm smile and love in his eyes, she would’ve bolted for the exit. In her hands, she clutched Glory’s little pink piglet for strength.

  The district attorney, Brent Dumas, a kindly looking older man with intelligent gray eyes, stepped forward to begin the questions.

  “Can you please state your name for the court?” Mr. Dumas said.

  “Samantha Engel.”

  “And what is your relationship to the defendant?”

  “I’m his daughter.” She didn’t look at her father then, though the weight of his stare still burned through her. “His only daughter.”

  “Right.” Mr. Dumas adjusted his glasses. “Do you recall what you were doing the night the hit was ordered on the congressman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you describe that evening for me please?”

  “I was at my father’s estate in Kenilworth. We’d just had dinner and I’d gone into the library to find a book I needed for my research.”

  “Was anyone else present at this dinner?”

  “Yes. My two brothers, Leo and Lucas.”

  “I see.” Mr. Dumas checked the yellow pad in his hand. “It says here that you’re one of six siblings, but only three of you were present that night?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.” Sam swallowed hard against the grief clogging her throat. So much death, so much destruction, so much senseless waste. All in the name of her father’s violence and greed. “Only four of us are still living. Myself, the twins, and one other brother, Nick. He’s been estranged from the family for years.”

  “How did all your other siblings die, Miss Engel?”

  “In service to my father.” She looked at him then, met his dark gaze direct, tried to put all her hurt and anger and fury into that long stare. “My other brothers were killed as a result of mob violence.”

  A tiny gasp rustled through the jury and Sam felt a flicker of satisfaction. At first, she’d been embarrassed about the sad state of her family’s affairs, but getting it all out in the open was somehow freeing now. She wanted the world to know what an awful man her father was, wanted to put it all behind her so she could move on and start a new life, a new family, with Jack.

  “Right.” Mr. Dumas nodded. “Back to that December night. You stated you were in the library and you overheard your father order the hit on the congressman. Is this correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was this conversation of a personal nature or business?”

  “Business.” She exhaled slowly. If you could call murder
a business.

  “Did your father often conduct business out of his home?”

  “Of course. It’s the only place he could be assured of absolute privacy.”

  “And why would he need privacy, Miss Engel?”

  “Because his business is illegal.”

  Her father shifted slightly in his seat, shooting visual daggers at her. Instead of allowing herself to be intimidated, she sought out Jack’s calm gray gaze. He gave her a small nod and a wink.

  “And did you hear him specifically order the murder of Congressman Nash, Miss Engel?” Mr. Dumas asked.

  “Yes.”

  Her father looked livid.

  “And Miss Engel,” Mr. Dumas said. “You are aware that Congressman Nash was assassinated a week later?”

  “I am. I was out of the country at the time, doing work toward my PhD in Marine Biology in Costa Rica. When I heard the news, I immediately knew my father had been involved. I called the US District Attorney’s office to tell them what I knew and agreed to testify. In a matter of days, my life changed forever. My father found out about my deal and sent men after me, but I was taken into protective custody and put into witness protection until I could come here today to testify.”

  She looked at Jack again. Such simple, straightforward statements for such a momentous time in her life. If it hadn’t been for Costa Rice, she never would’ve met Jack, never would’ve conceived Glory, never would’ve had the promise of such a beautiful love, a beautiful life, a beautiful future. She loved him more than she could say. The urge to get up and run into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but she forced herself to stay put.

  “And you’re certain of the role your father played?”

  “Yes.” She squared her shoulders and met her father’s gaze again. If she was going to take him down, then she wanted to be brave about it. “I heard him give the order. Kill Nash. He had to take the congressman out, otherwise the man was going to expose my father for what he was—nothing but a gangster. A thief and a killer and a common criminal.”