SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood #3)

by Hamilton, Sharon

  When she stopped shuddering, Armando stood and took her hand. He led her down the hallway to a light-green-colored bedroom that was sparsely decorated. The king- sized bed was covered in a black satin coverlet. A filigreed steel bedframe and footboard looked oddly feminine in the otherwise masculine room. Several hooks at the side of a closet door were filled with jackets, backpacks, pouches and straps.

  He dropped her hand to spread back the coverlet. He helped her into the cool white sheets underneath. The pillows her cheeks brushed against smelled like him. Her thighs smoothed over the cotton until they found his warm legs. He moved over her as he pressed himself against her.

  He handed her a foil packet. He watched her face as she sheathed him, kissing his pecs and squeezing his cock.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure.”

  Back and forth he slowly moved his cock until his head found her. He stopped pressing and took her face in his palms, kissing her from her shoulder up to her mouth. She moved her torso up to meet him, pressing his buttocks with both hands, spreading her knees to the sides.

  Armando began the rhythmic motion in and out, stroking her body with his girth, pushing deep inside until she saw stars. His long lazy strokes became more intense. She wanted him deeper. She wanted him to fill her. She needed to feel the size of him stretching and loving her insides. Gina never wanted it to end. They said not a word to each other.

  The glow of their silent joining was shattered when she cried out as her body twisted and clutched under his, desperate to feel his enormous size deep inside her. She reveled in the way his strong arms held her as she arched back and gave herself to the orgasm that crashed over her. She tasted his sweat as she nipped at his shoulder, feeling the urgency of his own climax. For a few seconds he held her close to him while their bodies shuddered in unison.

  She could still feel him spending inside her. It suddenly seemed important to take every bit of him he would give. She squeezed his buttocks and pressed him hard against her for those final seconds of his release.

  An hour later, when she woke up to find him asleep but still inside her, she looked down at the muscled torso and smooth flesh of this warrior. She’d found some scars, as she’d loved him, things she hadn’t seen or felt in the truck the first time they had made love. He had an inner thigh wound, a scrape over his shoulder blade and a scar on his left bicep that had been mended with stitches. His chest expanded and contracted, pressing her deep inside the bed’s foam mattress and then releasing her to catch her breath. Her fingers lightly skipped along his strong upper thigh, onto the round buttock muscles that were firm as steel.

  She found the scar below his right eye worrisome, as well as a long, healed slice to his right upper lip. God willing, she’d be able to kiss away those scars and in time they would heal soft as a baby’s bottom. If she kissed him enough. If he would let her tend to him, take care of him. His one arm was underneath her back, the thick fingers of his right hand grabbing for the flesh at her waist even in his sleep. He was possessive, didn’t want her to leave without him knowing.

  And that made her hotter than hell, and ready for round two.

  Much later, over chowder at the Crab Pit, Armando thought he’d bring up the subject of his sister. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’re going on a training this week. Will be gone until Friday night. I want to ask you to look after Mia while I’m away. Can you keep her out of trouble for me?”

  She frowned at his request.

  “I know we haven’t talked about it—”

  “It’s fine.” She patted his hand. “I’d be happy to look out for her for you.”

  “Thanks.” He wanted to ask more. “How did the two of you meet?”

  “At Babes,” she avoided his eyes again. He knew she’d lied.

  “You went there?”

  “Why, you think I’m too good for Babes?”

  “Absolutely you’re too good for Babes. Bad crowd there.”

  “I can handle it,” she said. She was avoiding eye contact with him again.

  “You know, I just don’t get you. You’re way too classy to get caught up with the guys who hang out there.”

  She reached for his hand. “Armando, let’s not talk about it. Let’s not spoil this perfect day.”

  But Armando couldn’t let it go. “Why do you go back there, to that place inside yourself? You’re not the type of girl who belongs there.”

  “Oh yeah? Where do I belong, besides in your bed, of course?”

  “Well, not in that cheap strip joint. I don’t know. I don’t understand you, that’s all.”

  “Nothing to understand. I’m a simple gal.”

  “But you could have so much. You have so much going for you, Gina. Why are you throwing your life away like this?”

  She was getting annoyed. “I’m not throwing my life away. I have a great job. I found you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but I was going to ask you not to go to that bar anymore. Those guys are dangerous, Gina.”

  Her eyes glazed over. “And you’re not?”

  “No, I’m—” he struggled for the words. “I’m a different kind of dangerous. Not like Carlos and those creeps.”

  “I think they’re headed for a fall.”

  “How would you know that?”

  Gina was thoughtful and then answered. “Just a hunch. Come on, Armando, give me a little credit. Don’t you trust me?”

  And there it was. He was forced to say that yes, he trusted her, to keep Mia on ice until he could figure something out. He had to trust her because there weren’t any other options.

  Chapter 15

  Fifty men from SEAL Team 3 stepped into the military transport and flew to an abandoned, dusty airfield somewhere in the Nevada desert. There were no structures visible for miles, but Armando knew there was a whole surveillance complex just ahead. The “buildings” looked like foothills and cattle sheds. Most of the structures were underground.

  They gathered up their gear and jumped into seven unmarked dark-covered trucks. The back was open to the desert air and all they had was a hard bench to sit on.

  Cooper, Fredo, Marky, Jones and Kyle all sat next to each other. Cooper and Fredo were discussing the pros and cons of married life, not that Fredo was any closer to it. Armando had to hand it to him, though. The little SEAL never stopped trying.

  “The fuckin’ movers, man,” Cooper began, “mixed everything up. I went to unpack the kitchen box so at least we could prepare our first meal in the place, and found Libby’s underwear.”

  Cooper caught hell for that one. Several other men from Team 3 started laughing. Leopold was a tall Mormon boy from Pennsylvania, nearly Cooper’s height. “I’d take that one as a sign. Breakfast in bed. All I’m sayin’.”

  “Libby was not in the mood. She was so pissed she almost ordered me out with the movers. Like it’s somehow my fault. She labeled the fuckin’ boxes.”

  “Welcome to married life, son,” Kyle said. Though they were all close to the same age, their LPO liked to dispense advice about home life and domestic harmony almost as much as Gunny.

  “I believe the term you have yet to learn is, yes, dear,” Armando added.

  “You best learn that or yo’ mamma gonna hold her knees together real tight. You got twenty years of purgatory minimum,” Jones added with a smile.

  Fredo had to jump in on that one. “That’s when you get some professional advice,” he said as he stood and gyrated his hips to the sounds of oohs and ahhs from the audience.

  “And then you get that damned letter from the lawyer,” one of the other men said.

  They’d been driving for nearly an hour and the bench seat was getting hard. The background chatter was comfortable, working like white noise. Armando thought about his glorious morning and afternoon on Sunday with Gina, and couldn’t wait until Friday when they’d reconnect. He’d be so ready for her he got stiff just thinking about it.
/>   “You’re kinda quiet, Armani,” Kyle said as he shoved his shoulder into him. “Everything right?”

  He smiled back at his best friend and BUD/S swim buddy. If it weren’t for the fact that Armando had a minor infraction stemming from a bar fight, he’d be the same rank and have his own platoon, but he preferred being Kyle’s second enlisted any day of the week. That fight had cost him almost $150 a month in pay, but it had been worth it at the time.

  “I’m good. A little stir crazy.”

  “Me too. But hey, we got about half a mil worth of ammo to go expend the next few days. We got more to use this week in training than whole platoons use overseas in a year.”

  “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Use it in training so you don’t have to later on?”

  “Yup. Being prepared definitely keeps you alive,” Kyle agreed.

  “Also makes you a great lover,” Marky Mark added as he winked.

  Several laughed. Armando thought about being in training with Gina, and damn, it was getting hot in there. He definitely was obsessing about her soft flesh and that pouty mouth that tasted so sweet as she shattered under him. Seeing her climax was going to be the highlight of his day when he got back. Every day.

  What the hell am I saying?

  “Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Yeah?” Kyle had picked up on it. “You sleeping these nights?”

  He knew Kyle was fishing for signs of PTSD. Lord knew they’d seen more than their fair share of screwed-up operations and things gone wrong. Team guys killed.

  “I’m thinking about one little lady who’s gonna make sleep a luxury,” he whispered back to Kyle.

  “Roger that.” Kyle patted him on the shoulder. “About time, Armani.”

  “Nope. Not quite that far. But I’m having fun.”

  “Love ‘em and leave ‘em, until one snags you and you have no choice. And then you say, yes, dear.” Several others overheard the conversation and had joined in the refrain.

  They ran exercises in the dusty sand of the high desert, shooting and blowing things up. They used hand-held drones like one of Cooper’s to coordinate positions and identify targets. Armando found shooting the new .50 caliber M2, Ma Deuce, which mounted like a gargoyle on the back of a jeep going at sixty miles an hour, the most challenging. He familiarized himself with the quick-change barrel system and what to do in case of a jam, which they said would never happen.

  A couple of manufacturer’s reps were on standby to instruct them during the week. Because of Leopold’s Mormon faith, his nickname was Moron, but that had nothing to do with anything that would describe the big kid. His girlfriend was going to meet him in Vegas after their training, and he planned to propose to her. He’d been practicing his proposal over and over again. If it didn’t work, at least they’d have a very romantic weekend at Caesar’s.

  On Friday, after a hard week of long dusty days in the high desert, they were rushing to get all the equipment off the trucks so they could make their plane and touch down in San Diego while there was still part of an evening left to waste. The Browning was a heavy sucker, and the barrel was still hot from all the rounds they’d rammed through it. Someone pulled the lever on the stabilizing arm and the sucker dropped straight down on top of Moron’s forehead. It knocked him clean out.

  Cooper worked on Leopold furiously, making sure he regained consciousness quickly. The hole in the middle of his forehead was partly singed from the hot steel of the barrel. There was no question it was going to leave a ring, and would need stitches.

  “Fuck!” Leopold screamed as he came to.

  “Guess we don’t have to worry about whether or not he’s all right,” someone said.

  “It coulda knocked some sense into him,” Fredo added.

  Blood was streaming down the cut, covering his lips and teeth. He sputtered and coughed, in between his invectives toward the heavens and anyone else who stood around to watch.

  “You gotta hold still or I’m not going to be able to patch this up,” Cooper said calmly.

  “Fuck!” Moron shouted again so loud it reverberated across the desert. He was trying to stand, but Coop outweighed him. He was the only SEAL who did. Coop finally sat on the big kid so hard it nearly knocked his breath out. The two skinny advisors looked worried but said nothing.

  Kyle made an announcement. “So you see? That’s what happens when we rush things. This is what gets you killed, gents. You pay attention. Who pulled that pin?”

  A short wrestler-type build of a man, a recruit from Latvia named Dimitri stepped forward. “I am sorry, sir. I didn’t see him there.”

  Kyle grunted, but Armando knew he wouldn’t write it up unless the guy hadn’t confessed. “We can die by enemy fire, or we can die by friendly fire. Or a training accident. We use this to remind ourselves to be careful. Being careful is what keeps you alive. Some days it is the only reason you stay alive. Don’t assume anything.”

  Cooper had begun trying to stick butterflies over Moron’s bleeder. He finally had to resort to a gauze pad and a wad of athletic tape wound around the kid’s head several times to get the bleeding to stop.

  “You’re gonna have to go to the hospital back in San Diego, Leo.”

  “Fuck that. I’m meeting my girl here at Caesar’s Palace.”

  “I can’t stay. You gotta be seen by someone.”

  “Just stitch me up. Go ahead.”

  “I got nothing to deaden the skin.”

  “I don’t fuckin care. Just stitch me up so my girl doesn’t have a heart attack when she sees all the blood.”

  “You’re gonna have to have her wake you up every hour. You could have a concussion.”

  “Shit, he’s not gonna sleep all weekend, are you, Moron?” someone said.

  “Maybe not now,” someone else added.

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Leopold was still in a hurry.

  Cooper looked to Kyle. “Your call.”

  “Your ears ringing?” Kyle asked the kid.

  “Nope.”

  “Would you tell me if they did?”

  “Nope. But they’re not ringing. I got a headache, though.”

  “I’ll bet.” He turned to Cooper. “Give him something for pain after you do it.”

  Cooper nodded.

  “Make it hurt. If he passes out, he comes with us,” he added in a whisper.

  “Roger that.”

  With an audience around them standing in a tight semicircle, Cooper put twelve stitches in Moron’s forehead like he was appliquéing a quilt, and the boy didn’t flinch. True to his word, Cooper made it hurt. But no one would have known until it was all over. Moron got up, looked at himself in the steel mirror and then punched Cooper in the jaw.

  “You did good, kid. Now, no alcohol this weekend, hear?” Kyle admonished him.

  “Fuck’s up with that, LP? You know I’m a fuckin’ Mormon. The only thing I can do is screw.”

  Chapter 16

  Gina used the week to dive into Mia’s world. They explored other bars some of Mia’s lowlife friends frequented, under the guise of looking for hot dates willing to spend money. But Sam and a couple of the other detail followed them around, seeming to have an uncanny knack for showing up when they least expected it.

  Carlos gave them a generous offer to work for him, which was a break for Gina since she got it on audio. He gave a rather lengthy description of how he used girls and youths to send messages, occasionally delivering money. Gina allowed herself to be talked into it, over Mia’s objection. She was pleased Mia was beginning to recognize the dangers of being involved in the wrong crowd. Something had shifted.

  Gina met several of his couriers at the palatial home overlooking the ocean in La Jolla on Wednesday. Carlos was on his very best behavior. But she knew from Sam’s snitch that they’d just purchased a warehouse full of military equipment, including some state-of-the art firepower. There was a race for time to find out the location before it could wind up in Mexico.

  “
I would treat you like a queen, beautiful Gina with the perfect body.”

  She let him think she found that attractive. Mia tried to act disinterested, but Gina picked up on her friend’s unease.

  Even as she played up to Carlos, it troubled her that his rise to power had been so rapid. Caesar had been imprisoned for less than a year. She knew the Scorpions had probably replaced the SDPD and sheriff’s men caught up in the sting with new members and new officers bought and paid for by the gang. Finding those would be a big coup.

  Unlike the slimy man she usually saw at the bars, Carlos’s house was immaculate, completely modern, and stark white except for his collection of Haitian and Cuban paintings, which hung like violent scars on the sun-drenched walls. He had a wine cellar large enough to serve dinner for twelve, and bragged that at the time of purchase two years ago, the wine had been valued at over a half million all by itself. He also made a point of telling her he never took drugs. “My house is as clean as it looks. “Don’t you party?” she asked.

  “Nah. Here I relax. I do all my business out of the office or in my car. But when I come home—” he walked around Gina, looking her up and down— “I like to get with my woman, you get what I’m sayin?”

  Gina resisted the urge to cringe. Mia was scowling. She held little Ricardo in her arms as the baby grabbed one of her hoop earrings and practically ripped it off her ear.

  On the way home, Mia gave her a bit of her own twisted advice. “You know if you get hooked up with Carlos you’ll never get out?”

  “I know what I’m doing.” Gina looked over at the girl she’d actually begun to like. It wasn’t her job to reform Mia. Instead, she was supposed to arrest her when the time came. That would be difficult to do. But if she had to, could she? Knowing what Armando would do?