The Reckless Warrior (Navy SEAL Romance)

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Corbin’s throat went dry as he swallowed, his pulse ratcheting up a few notches. He had to get to know this woman. The compulsion was nearly overwhelming. He laughed inwardly. Was he losing it? He’d gotten very little sleep the night before. Maybe exhaustion was taking its toll. The woman had given him the brush-off. She obviously wasn’t interested in him. He took another swallow of his drink, his blood pumping like a piston through his veins.

  Before his mind could register what his body was doing, he stood, drink in hand. Without asking for permission, he sat down beside her. Her eyes widened as she glanced at him.

  “Hello.” A stupid grin washed over his face. He didn’t really know what he expected would happen when he made the split-second decision to sit down beside a stranger and try to start up a conversation. But he certainly didn’t expect her to give him such a scathing look, like he was the scum of the earth, before turning her attention back to her glass.

  Hot needles pricked over him. Shot down before you even got off the ground. He was a big boy and could handle it. Earlier, she’d noticed him first. He’d felt her eyes on him, which is why she initially caught his attention. “Nice party.”

  She grunted.

  He laughed. “That exciting, huh?” He downed the rest of his drink with a couple of swallows, feeling the alcohol buzz to his head. He couldn’t believe she was flat-out ignoring him. Not the sort of treatment he was used to getting from the opposite sex. Normally, he had to beat the women off him. He watched as she stirred her straw through the ice cubes and took a drink. The graceful movements of her slim fingers were mesmerizing. A smile flitted over his lips as he realized what was happening. She was playing hard-to-get. He loved a good chase. It made things … interesting.

  The bartender approached. “Can I get you another drink?”

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” Corbin said casually. He thought that would at least earn him some sort of response.

  Nothing.

  Okay, this was getting awkward. Maybe he should cut bait and move on.

  “Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding the drink to him.

  “I don’t see it,” Corbin said.

  Silence.

  “Are you sure it’s there?”

  At that, she turned. “What?” she asked, only mildly interested.

  “Whatever it is you find so fascinating at the bottom of your drink.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  He motioned, fighting a smile. “You were staring into your glass like it held the secret of the Bermuda Triangle, so I figured it must be important.” He expected her to at least give him a courtesy laugh for the effort, but she just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her glass.

  Corbin took a gulp of the drink, then sputtered in disgust. “This is club soda.”

  She cut her eyes at him. “You have such discriminating taste.”

  At least he’d caught her attention, but her words were flat and dead. Not even the slightest bit of emotion in them. Sheesh. This woman was tough. “Are you always this friendly?” he asked dryly.

  As she turned to face him, his mind cataloged her features. Long lashes, dark mysterious eyes, full lips painted apple red to match her dress. Her brow lifted in faint amusement. “Are you always this desperate?”

  Her soft Southern accent was such a contrast to her insult that it rendered him speechless for a second. “I would hardly call trying to make polite conversation desperate.”

  “Is that what you call this?”

  “Of course,” he blustered. What was it about this woman that was making him so jumpy? He never got tongue-tied around women. Normally, the compliments rolled out of him like ballads with the ladies eating up every word. But not this woman. He forced a laugh. “Well, yeah. What else?”

  She shrugged. “A poor attempt at hitting on me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he retorted. Her eyes widened in surprise before her face flushed, making her look even more incredible. He felt kind of bad for cutting her down and tried to think of a way to soften the blow. Then it occurred to him. She looked familiar. He cocked his head, trying to figure out where he’d seen her. “Have we met before? Do you live here, in San Diego?”

  Her mouth drew into a tight line. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I wasn’t trying to pry … only trying to figure out how I know you. Have you ever been to Birchwood Springs, Colorado?”

  She clipped out a single word. “Nope.”

  Corbin was unprepared for the sting of disappointment that prickled through him. This woman meant nothing to him. Why was he taking her rejection so personally? She’d clearly dismissed him. The polite thing to do would be to get up and move. But Corbin had never been one to follow the rules of decorum. “What’s your name?”

  Her eyes widened in exasperation as she turned to him. “Buddy, can’t you take a hint? I’m not interested.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m only trying to carry on a conversation.”

  Her jaw tightened. “I’m going to ask you one final time. Leave me alone.”

  “Okay, I will. But first, you have to tell me your name.” Geez. He was coming across as a love-starved jerk. He’d come here to meet with Sutton, not pick up on chicks. But this woman was messing with his head. Crazy, because he didn’t even know her. And she obviously had zero interest in him, but she’d been checking him out earlier. Talk about mixed signals! This woman was a master at it.

  She looked past Corbin, exchanging some sort of information with the person behind him. Corbin turned as a heavyset guy with bulging biceps approached. His thick brows bunched as he sized-up Corbin. “Is this guy giving you problems, Miss Mitchell?” His voice had a warning edge, the kind tough-guys used in the hope it would send all opposition running. Not gonna happen, buddy.

  The name clicked, as Corbin experienced an a-ha moment. “You’re Delaney Mitchell, that country music singer.” No wonder she was being standoffish. She was probably used to guys trying to pick up on her. Then he remembered hearing something about her on the news. She’d shot her ex-husband when he broke into her condo. Yep, the woman had some major baggage. He had to laugh at himself. A roomful of people, and he was drawn to the one who was as messed up as he was. Par for his luck.

  “I tried to tell him I wasn’t interested, but he won’t take a hint,” Delaney said.

  “I was only trying to make conversation,” Corbin mumbled. “You looked lonely … like you needed a friend.” Why was he even bothering to explain himself to this woman? Her gaze connected with his. For a split second, something flickered in Delaney’s eyes and he caught that wounded expression that had drawn him in. Then a curtain went down, her eyes going hard. “I told you to leave me alone,” she said coldly.

  Without thinking, he touched her arm. “Hey,” he began.

  It was the wrong move. The big man grabbed Corbin’s collar and yanked him to his feet. “Come with me,” he ordered.

  Instinct took over as Corbin threw a punch that connected with the man’s jaw. He heard the crack at the same instant the sting of the impact reverberated through his knuckles. The big man stumbled back, disoriented. Corbin side-swept his leg, sending him crashing to the ground. There were several gasps from people nearby as they stepped back. Their shocked faces cut through the heady anger, making Corbin feel ashamed. He’d come here to honor his late friend and to reconnect with Sutton, not get in a bar brawl with some hoity toity musician’s bodyguard.

  He gave Delaney a disgusted look. “I was only trying to get to know you. Lady, you have much too high of an opinion of yourself.” He grunted. “Good riddance.” He bent over to offer the guy a hand up. The guy clutched his hand, but instead of using it to get up. He pulled Corbin forward and punched him in the jaw. Pain rippled through Corbin and with that pain came a scorching anger that overshadowed reason. They rolled on the floor, trading blows. Then Corbin sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could go like thi
s all night. In some perverse way, it felt good to vent the anger and frustration continually warring inside him. The man also lumbered to his feet. He wiped the thin trail of blood flowing from his lip, breathing heavily. A humorless grin ruffled Corbin’s lips. “Have you had enough? You should’ve left well enough alone, friend. I was trying to help you up.”

  The hulk lunged at him, but Corbin easily dodged out of his way. A crowd had circled around them. It just went to show that regardless of whether folks were high or low-class, they loved the thrill of the fight.

  The man came at him again. Corbin stepped to the side causing the lug to run headfirst into the bar. Corbin assumed that would be the end of it, but the hulk turned to face him, his eyes dark slashes as he shook off the hit. When he charged again, Corbin twisted behind him and got him in a chokehold. The man’s face turned purple, his arms flailing. Then he slumped to his knees and fell face-first on the floor, passed out cold.

  Corbin glanced down at the streaks of blood on his white tux jacket. He looked at Delaney, who was ghostly white. “It didn’t have to be this way.” He rubbed his jaw, still smarting from the hits, then glanced at the spectators. “Show’s over,” he grumbled.

  He got a couple of steps away when four security guards in black suits approached. He crouched getting into a fighting position. So this is how they wanted to play it. Fine with him! When the first guy charged, he clocked him in the face, knocking him down. He got the second with a swift sidekick to the gut. As he was fighting the third, the fourth attacked from behind. A sharp pain splintered up the base of his skull as he fell to his knees, the room spinning. His mind screamed fight, but his body refused to cooperate. In another second, the security guards had Corbin pinned on the ground, slapping handcuffs on his wrists. They lifted him to his feet, breathing curses as they hauled him away.

  4

  From what Corbin could tell, he’d been placed in a holding cell in some deep underground section of the mansion. The walls were solid metal with the door being the only opening. Corbin had yelled for several minutes, demanding to be released, but the box was as soundproof as a tomb. Finally, he slumped down in the metal chair beside the table. Two chairs and a table were the only furniture in the room.

  It was crazy how fast things had escalated out of control. One minute, he was attempting to talk to Delaney. And the next, he was fighting with the big guy, whom he assumed was Delaney’s bodyguard. The anger had taken over, the way it had been doing for some time now. But Corbin hadn’t started this fight. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went. He rumbled out a sarcastic laugh. Was this Sutton Smith’s plan all along? Lure him here so he could keep him prisoner?

  No, there was no reason for Sutton to have a grudge against Corbin. If anything, Sutton should be glad that Corbin had tried to avenge Doug’s death the day of the ambush. Of course, everything went terribly wrong. But that was beside the point. Corbin, more than anyone except Sutton, had felt the agony of Doug’s death. And with that pain came the guilt of what happened afterward.

  The door opened, and Sutton stepped through. He strode over and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. Even though Sutton was dressed impeccably in an expensive tux, he was all grit and muscle, his movements as nimble as a panther. The type of guy you didn’t want to cross. His blue eyes flickered over Corbin. “I’m glad to see the tux was sent to you as instructed.” After decades in the US, Sutton still had a slight British accent.

  Corbin glanced down at the stains. “I hope you included dry cleaning in the package.” He noticed that Sutton had left the door open. Maybe that was a good sign that he’d let Corbin out of here soon.

  A slight smile touched Sutton’s lips in acknowledgement of Corbin’s poor attempt at humor, then vanished almost as quickly as it had come. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

  Seriously? The guy wanted to make conversation. “I’d be a lot better if I weren’t handcuffed.” He gave Sutton a hard look. “Why’re you keeping me here?”

  “I had hoped to have this conversation on friendlier terms. But I didn’t expect you to get into a fight the minute you stepped in the door.” His voice held a note of irony.

  Corbin’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t start it. It was that meathead bodyguard—”

  Amusement flickered in Sutton’s eyes. “I know what happened. I saw the security feed.” His eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his forehead. “You handled yourself pretty well.” He shrugged. “At least until the end, when you were put down.”

  He didn’t appreciate the assessment, nor the jab. “Four on one’s hardly fair.” It was no surprise that Sutton had cameras everywhere. This conversation was probably being recorded right now. He glanced around, seeing no evidence of a camera. But that didn’t mean one wasn’t hidden somewhere.

  Sutton chuckled. “I’d think by now you would’ve learned that life is anything but fair.”

  Somehow Corbin knew Sutton was talking about Doug. It got him like a punch in the gut. He caught a blip of Sutton’s hurt mirroring his own. He swallowed the ball in his throat. He looked Sutton in the eye. “Why did you pay for me to come here?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Something other than being handcuffed and thrown in a cell?” He shot Sutton an accusing look.

  “You brought that on yourself, lad.”

  Corbin was getting fed up with dancing around the topic. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m holding a meeting.” He glanced at his watch. “It starts in five minutes. I’d like for you to attend, and I’ll explain everything.”

  He pinned Sutton with a look. “You’ll tell me now. I’m tired of playing games. I wore the tux, came to your stupid party, got mauled by your security guards, and thrown into some holding cell. Enough is enough.”

  Sutton quirked a half smile. “You have a couple of options here.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “In a couple of minutes, someone’s going to come in and remove your handcuffs.” He reached in his jacket and retrieved an envelope. “Here’s the money you were promised.” He placed it on the table. “You can take it and go your merry way, or you can stick around for the meeting—hear about a unique opportunity that could be yours, if you have enough sense to recognize it.”

  “I don’t need anything from you,” Corbin growled. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

  “Obviously, with your bar bouncer job and part-time security gig at the movie theater.”

  Corbin flinched. “You’ve had me checked out.” He didn’t need to have it pointed out that he’d reached a low point in his life. “Why?”

  Sutton let out a long sigh. “Look, I know what happened right after Doug died.”

  The words came at Corbin like a sledgehammer as he gasped, shame burning over him. “H—how?” he sputtered. Those records were sealed. Then again there were probably very few things in this world a man like Sutton Smith couldn’t access.

  A fierce light came into Sutton’s eyes as he continued. “I know the anger that fuels you. I’ve felt it myself.” He paused. “In fact, it almost destroyed me,” he said softly. He clutched his fist. “Here’s the bottom line, I’m offering you a chance to do something meaningful with your life. And I’ll pay you handsomely in the process.”

  “Why do you give a crap about me?” Corbin rattled off reflexively.

  Sutton straightened his shoulders, not taking his eyes off Corbin’s. “Because my son gave a crap about you, that’s why.”

  Moisture rose in Corbin’s eyes as he blinked. “Doug was the best friend I ever had.” He coughed to hide his emotion, looking down at the table.

  “He loved you like a brother. For what’s it’s worth, thank you.”

  Corbin’s head shot up. “For what?”

  “For caring enough about Doug to come here tonight. And for keeping my son’s memory alive.”

  The gravity of Sutton’s words hit Corbin full force. Something swift and strong flowed betw
een them. They would always be connected through Doug’s life and then later his death.

  A man stepped in. Corbin recognized him as one of the security guards who’d tackled him earlier. The guy shot Corbin a surly look. It gave him a ping of satisfaction when he saw the guy’s swollen lip. He stepped behind Corbin and removed the handcuffs. Then he turned on his heel and left the room in a hurry like he feared a rematch. Corbin stood, glancing at the envelope and then at Sutton.

  Sutton rose to his feet. “What will it be?”

  He tugged at his jacket. “I’m in no hurry. I’ll go to the meeting.”

  Sutton looked pleased. “Very well.” He motioned. “This way.”

  “What is this?” Corbin glared at the four faces seated around the conference room table. Blayze, River, Zane, and Cannon … fellow members of SEAL Team 7—four people he hoped to never lay eyes on again. They looked just as surprised to see him.

  Sutton motioned. “Have a seat.”

  Blood thrashed against Corbin’s temples as his feet stayed rooted to the floor, his fists clutching into balls. “Whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it.” He couldn’t believe Sutton had dragged him here to face these guys. So much for opportunity.

  River smirked at Zane, who was sitting beside him. “No surprise there.”

  Corbin’s body tensed. “What do you mean by that?” He was ready to pound some heads.

  Zane AKA Thor because of his striking resemblance to the Marvel hero, made a point of eyeing the blood streaks on his jacket. “Same old Corbin, huh? Always got somebody’s blood on your hands.”

  The comment was the match that lit the wildfire. He pounced at Zane who sprang to his feet. Corbin managed to strike a fist to Zane’s cheekbone before Zane landed a punch of his own that knocked Corbin back against the table. It was one thing to spar with a lumbering bodyguard, but another to fight a fellow Navy SEAL who was Corbin’s equal in every way. Still, there was no backing down from this. Corbin got back up, ready to go again. He swung, but Zane ducked. Corbin took another shot. Zane stepped out of the way, but Corbin ran at him, the two toppling to the floor.