The Protective SEAL

by Knight, Katie

  She nodded, her tears tickling his thumbs. “I trust you.”

  Those words went straight to his heart, warming him from the inside out. “You do?”

  Sam inched closer, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips then back again. “I always have.”

  Then her lips were on his, soft and warm and oh so yielding, and Jack was lost. He’d needed her so badly, from the instant he’d seen her wandering along the side of the road. Even longer, if he was truthful. Honestly, he’d needed her back in his arms since the day they’d left each other on that airstrip in Costa Rica a year prior, even if he’d never admitted it to himself. Having her back in his life now was heaven and hell all rolled into one.

  Heaven because all of this felt so right, so true, so good.

  Hell because it couldn’t last.

  But they had tonight. If they were brave enough to take it.

  Still, Jack needed to know this was what she wanted, that it wasn’t just the situation talking. He pulled back slightly and tipped her chin up to catch her gaze. “Sam. Sweetheart. Tell me what you need? Is this what you want?”

  He lived and died and was born again in those few seconds of silence until finally a small smile ghosted across her lips. “Yes. I want you, Jack. I’ve always wanted you. Please make love to me.”

  If she’d told him right then she loved him, it wouldn’t have had a more profound effect on him.

  Without another word, he laid her back on the sofa and kissed her again, covering her body with his own. Clothes disappeared in a series of tugs and moans and giggles until, at last, they were skin to skin, soul to soul, her legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried between the valley of her breasts, the heat between her legs teasing the tip of his hard cock.

  She arched against him, her tone breathy as she whispered, “Please.”

  “Please what?” Jack growled, licking one of her taut nipples, teasing her, drawing this out into a small, exquisite eternity. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you inside me.” Sam dug her nails into his shoulders, the pain a sweet torture. “Now.”

  “I don’t have a condom.” He kissed his way to her other breast, slipping one hand between them to tease her swollen clit.

  “I don’t care.” She pressed harder against his hand, biting her lip. “Please. What’s the worst that can happen? I get pregnant? Oops. Been there, done that.”

  Jack rose up on his elbows, staring down at her through a haze of hormones and driving desire. “Are you sure?”

  “God, yes!”

  And then he slid inside her warm, slick walls and any coherent thoughts left his head. There was only the two of them, only the now, only the feel of her around him and the smell of her shampoo and their mingled arousal. He pulled out almost completely before thrusting back into her to his hilt, loving the tiny moans and gasps that came out of her mouth, loving the feel of her heels digging into his butt, urging him onward. Loving everything about her, really.

  Warning bells went off in the back of his head, but he was too far gone to care at this point.

  All too soon, they were both teetering on the edge of climax. Jack nuzzled the side of her neck, one hand holding hers beside her head, the other supporting his weight and he drove into her harder, faster, deeper. She inhaled sharply and held him tighter.

  “Are you close?” he whispered, his tone jagged.

  “So, so close.”

  He reached between them once more to stroke her folds and she arched against him, crying out as orgasm overtook her. Jack was soon to follow, helpless to resist the gentle convulsions of her body around him. His balls tightened, and his body tensed as his own climax hit hard. Wave after wave of pleasure swept over him, drawing him under, lulling him into blissful oblivion.

  When it was all over and they’d both drifted back down to earth, they laid on the sofa, naked and sated, her fingers lazily sifting through his hair as Jack laid atop her, his head over her heart. Neither of them moved until a tiny squeak issued from the bedroom.

  Sam was the first to move, squirming underneath him as she laughed. “Bottle time.”

  “Nah.” Jack said, easing off of her and grabbing his sleep pants from the floor before slipping them on. “I got it. Time to put all those tutorials I watched to the test.”

  Fourteen

  Stefan stared at the TV screen in front of him, the national news replaying clips of his sons, Leo and Lucas, being led down the steps of the federal courthouse, armed guards flanking them. The anger in him notched higher. All of his children had abandoned him now, turned their back on him.

  Turned traitor on him.

  “Your attorney’s here to see you, Engel,” the correctional officer said. “Get up and I’ll walk you to the visitors’ room.”

  With as much dignity as he could muster, Stefan pushed to his feet, his khaki jumpsuit scratching his skin. Thanks to his sons and his upcoming trial, he was now in the custody of the Illinois Department of Corrections, complete with a private cell at the Metropolitan Correctional Center. His attorney had assured him the situation was only temporary. For his lawyer’s sake, he hoped the man was right.

  As he shuffled along the corridor, the guard’s hand heavy on his arm and the chains from his cuffs rattling, Stefan worked to keep his temper under control. Losing it in here wouldn’t help his case at all. Best to save his rage until he was out again, where it could do the most good.

  His twin sons had each taken a plea deal to lessen their own sentences in exchange for turning over evidence of Stefan’s many money laundering and drug trafficking schemes. Ungrateful little bastards. Stefan had been a good father to them, taught them how to be strong, how to become unimaginably wealthy, how to get whatever they wanted, and how did they repay him? By throwing him to the wolves.

  Stefan’s own father had come to America from Sicily, his father a first-generation immigrant. He’d known how to run a tight ship. He’d beaten the lessons of loyalty and silence into young Stefan and his brothers early. He was the one who had taught Stefan what he’d needed to know to survive in the cutthroat world of the mafia. And rule number one of the mob? Never, ever snitch.

  He shook his head. All of his children were dead to him now.

  Better the twins had lost their lives in service to the family, than to turn state’s evidence against him. Shameful. That’s what it was. An embarrassment. An unforgivable sin.

  And sure, he had one other boy—Nick—but he’d left the family years before and hadn’t said a word to them since. Word had it he was living in California, had a boyfriend too. Turned Stefan’s stomach just to think about it. Not because Nick was gay. He didn’t care who a man slept with. No. It was the fact that he was a coward. Ran away from his family and his responsibilities because he said he couldn’t take the violence. Stefan scoffed.

  Violence was the way of the world. Violence got things accomplished.

  Violence made a statement like nothing else did. Got people’s attention.

  They stopped at the end of the corridor and Stefan was frisked again for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived at this place. What he wouldn’t give for a nice semiautomatic to put a bullet between the guard’s eyes about now. But first, he had an empire to protect.

  Through the bulletproof glass window looking into the visitors’ room, Stefan saw a dark-haired woman sitting in the corner, and for a moment he thought it was his dearly departed wife, Gloria. Monster that he was, he’d loved her at first sight. Met her at the racetrack one day while she was training her ponies and married her six months later. She’d been a good woman, his Glory. Kind, smart, funny. She’d kept him from getting in too deep in the business, kept him sane. She’d given him five sons and one tiny daughter. Their life had been good.

  Then she’d died of cancer and the best part of Stefan had died right along with her.

  Drowning in grief and battling a hostile takeover by a rival family, Stefan had thrown himself into violence with gusto, ordering hits and
showing no mercy. Over the years, his heart had slowly shriveled away until he doubted he even had one left. It was fine. Hearts and emotions only made you vulnerable anyway.

  The woman looked up and met his gaze, then glanced away fast.

  Not Gloria. Not that he’d expected it to be. She was an angel in heaven now, he was sure. He ignored the strange pinch in his chest at that thought and waited while the guard futzed with some paperwork on a clipboard.

  In truth, Samantha was the spitting image of her mother. That was the main reason he’d distanced himself from his daughter after her mother had died. Just looking at her was too hard, stirred up too many memories. The fact they had little in common didn’t help either. Sam was a bookworm, always studying, always researching things, while Stefan was a man of action. Why read about something when you could live it and be done with it? Once she’d left for college, Stefan had tucked any feelings he’d had for her deeply away. He’d always known she could be used as a pawn against him, for good or evil, so he’d chosen to keep her away. In the end, she’d betrayed him all on her own. Now he had to choose between her life and his empire. Such an inconvenience.

  At last he was let into the next room and took a seat at the table, across from his attorney.

  Stanley Pyle Jr. was not an attractive man by any means. A bit too tall, a bit too thin, with a nose like a beak and beady little rat eyes. He’d always reminded Stefan of a weasel. Still, the guy was the best mob attorney in the country, now that his father had retired, which made him exactly what Stefan needed at present.

  He waited until the guard walked away to wait by the door then leaned closer to whisper to Pyle, “Did the agent contact you?”

  “Yes. He’s tracked Sam to a cabin in the woods in rural Nebraska and is awaiting orders.”

  “Orders?” Stefan hissed, louder than necessary. He glanced around to make sure no one had heard. The place was busy, and conversations hummed around them as other inmates met with their friends or family or attorneys. No one looked their way, and Stefan exhaled slowly. “Tell that idiot that he already has his orders. To handle the situation, by any means necessary.”

  “Yes, sir.” Pyle scribbled something on the legal pad in front of him, then adjusted his glasses. “Right. Okay. So, with the twins taking a plea deal, our strategy needs to change.”

  “I don’t care what you have to do, get me out of here.” A muscle ticked along Stefan’s tight jaw. At least it was Friday. He wouldn’t have to go back to court until Monday. That would give him and Pyle two days to come up with an alternative plan of attack. The center didn’t allow visitors on Sundays. “And make sure you bring the correct suit on Monday. Appearance is half the battle with the jury. The better I look, the more they’ll like me.”

  He’d been quite the catch in his younger days, with women comparing him to everyone from Sean Connery to Burt Reynolds. Sure, he’d gotten a bit older, but he took care of himself. At least the gym in this place was decent. Stefan worked out whenever he could to help burn off his stress.

  For the next hour, he and Pyle discussed everything from the charges against him—racketeering, murder, extortion, trafficking—to the weather, to the disposal of assets if things should happen to go south. Stefan didn’t enjoy that last part. With the twins taking that plea deal, and hopefully with Sam dead very soon, he didn’t want Nick to get everything he’d worked so hard for. He decided to put it all into offshore accounts if possible. If not, then Pyle was to offload as much as he could and give the rest to the church. Stefan might not be a practicing Catholic, but he’d been raised right.

  Better to give it to God than any of his ungrateful, surviving children.

  Maybe the Pope would give him a sainthood or something.

  Stefan snorted, despite the circumstances.

  “Uh, finally sir. We need to discuss what will happen if your daughter testifies next Friday.” Pyle slid a finger under the collar of his dress shirt. “I know you said—”

  “She won’t testify.” Stefan dug his fingers into the edge of the table, a red haze descending over him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Right.” Pyle stared down at his legal pad, sweat beading on his pale forehead. “But just in case she does make it to the courtroom, we should be prepared. You should be prepared.”

  “I’m prepared.” The words cut like glass on Stefan’s tongue. Congressman Nash had had it coming. Sticking his nose into places it didn’t belong, trying to run Stefan out of business. He’d been warned, Nash had, and he’d all but laughed in Stefan’s face, thinking himself untouchable.

  The bastard was six feet under now. How was that for touching?

  He took a deep breath and forced his stiff shoulders to relax. “My daughter won’t testify. Like I said, I’ll make sure of it.”

  Pyle stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment, before giving a hesitant nod.

  “Visiting hours are over,” the officer by the door declared loudly. “Wrap it up, people.”

  His attorney gathered up his pad and pens then stood. The guard came over and took Stefan’s arm, pulling him to his feet. Before he shuffled back out of the room, Stefan stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Pyle.

  “Be sure that agent follows through,” he said.

  “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  The image of Pyle’s gaunt, pale face haunted Stefan all the way back to his cell.

  Fifteen

  The next morning, Sam was up bright and early, having gotten a good night’s sleep for the first time in she couldn’t remember how long. All thanks to Jack. He’d gotten up with Glory every time she’d fussed, feeding her, changing her diapers, soothing her back to sleep, while Sam slumbered.

  Now, they’d reversed roles. She was tidying up around the cabin while Jack snored on the bed. He was so cute when he slept, his long, dark lashes, fanned out on his high cheekbones, and his arms wrapped tight around his pillow.

  Her body still tingled and ached from their lovemaking the night before, but she wasn’t complaining. If anything, she was grateful to have experienced another night with Jack. And yes, all their problems still waited for them outside the door, but it was nice to have had a few hours to relax and escape her fears, if only temporarily.

  She got Glory up and fed and dressed, then took another quick shower herself, keeping her daughter’s carrier on the bathroom counter while she bathed. Then she dressed and ate a bowl of cereal before prowling around the small cabin, feeling restless. As a marine biologist, she was used to being out in nature, used to having a list of things to accomplish each day. Even the past year, working as a waitress instead of pursuing her passion, had at least given her something to do. This waiting around and hiding was for the birds, even if it was keeping little Glory safe. Sam wanted to testify, get it over with, then get on with her life.

  The sounds of rustling covers echoed from the bedroom as Jack got up. A sudden pang stabbed her heart. Her life, her new life anyway, would mean leaving Jack behind. He had his farm near Rally, an existence she wasn’t a part of and couldn’t join, not without endangering her new identity. The only way she could have Jack by her side was if he left his life behind to marry her and join the program with her. No way would he give everything up to be with her, daughter or not.

  Ugh. She’d vowed not to get involved with him, sworn not to let her heart rule her mind, yet here she was knee deep in…

  Nope. Not using the L word here. Nope.

  Honestly, she barely knew Jack Williams. They’d spent barely two days together total since that first night she’d met him in Costa Rica. And sure, they had great chemistry together and even more wonderful sex, but that was no reason to go all gaga over the guy, right?

  Then there was Glory. Her daughter deserved all good things—especially safety. Sam was determined she’d have them, no matter the sacrifices she had to make. And the best way to stay safe in the program was to cut all ties with anyone who could be connected to your former life.

  Jack ch
ose that moment to pad out from the bathroom, his chest and hair still damp from the shower, a clean pair of faded jeans clinging lovingly to his thighs and slim hips, his bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem. He looked rugged and boyish and altogether too handsome for her comfort. Her mouth dried and she licked her lips, remembering the feel of his warm smooth flesh beneath her fingertips, his hard muscles bunching and quivering as he’d brought them both to the brink of ecstasy…

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice gruffer than usual. Sam coughed and tried again. “Sleep well?”

  “Yep. Best power nap I’ve had in a while.” Jack walked over and kissed her soundly, his tongue tasting of mint from his toothpaste. “Let me get dressed, then how about we take a little walk? The river’s not far from here and my cousin used to keep a boat there. I’d like to make sure it’s still there, in case we need it later.”

  Anything that would put some distance between her and the man she was ready to tackle to the floor and have her wicked way with sounded good to Sam. “Great. I’ll get Glory ready.”

  By the time they were out of the cabin and walking through the woods, Sam was grateful for the brisk breeze on her cheeks to cover the flaming heat she felt rising inside her. Jack had insisted on carrying Glory in the Babybjörn they’d purchased at the superstore, and damn if it didn’t make him look even hotter than usual. There was something about a man and his kid together that ticked all the sexy boxes. The sky above was overcast and rain looked imminent. Wind rustled through the leaves of the trees and the air carried birdsong and the snap of twigs underfoot. They’d been walking for about half an hour and Jack had entrusted her with his hunting rifle, just in case they ran into trouble on the way. He’d said he didn’t expect any, but better safe than sorry. So, she had the rifle tucked under one arm and the diaper bag slung over the other.