"Another beer, Chief?" Chase dropped down onto the bench beside Hank and held out a brown bottle.
It felt like being greeted by an old friend after a long absence . . . and he wasn't extending the thought to Chase. Hank drained his current drink in a single gulp and accepted the next round.
He watched as Alex dragged Lana out from the bench across from him and herded her back toward the house.
"So, how's it going?" Chase prodded. Hank belatedly registered the friendly elbow to his ribs and glared at it. Chase retracted it as quickly as if he feared a sudden amputation.
"What?"
"I mean with Lana! Come on, Chief, you've been staring at her all night. It would be creepy if it wasn't so obvious that she's equally into you."
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about." But he wondered. Was Chase right in his observation? The younger firefighter wasn't exactly the first in line of those Hank might consider calling for love advice, but Chase's exploits with the opposite sex had made him infamous in their little Alaska town back home. Clearly, the other man had some sort of intuition when it came to this sort of thing.
He watched as Sookie passed an empty beer can to Chase, who momentarily broke from their conversation to crush it against his forehead with a jocular crow.
Well, maybe not intuition. Instinct was probably the better word for it.
Hank caught the cap of his own beer on the edge of the table and popped it open. "Show-off," he said.
"Look who's talking. Want me to grab you another beer so you can show off your trick to Lana?"
"I'm not kidding, Kingston. Leave it."
Chase clapped him on the shoulder as he rose. "You're way less threatening when you're drunk, Chief.” The younger man's grin was more lopsided than usual. “You're almost charming. You should use that to your advantage."
Hank took a long swig of beer and glared at nothing in particular. He didn't feel charming, but maybe he did feel a little drunk. He decided to stand as well, if only to test his balance.
He put out a hand to steady himself against the table and found it wasn't that bad.
The number of beers he’d consumed were beginning to make themselves felt in other ways. He went into the house to hunt for the bathroom . . . or at least, that's what he heard himself tell several people on his way inside. Really, he was looking for Lana.
He didn't find her. Maybe it was just as well. What the hell did he intend to say to her?
He finished in the bathroom and washed his hands. This time when he glared, it was his own reflection he fixed with the intensity of his glower. He shouldn't have come: not to Alex's—and not to Cedar Springs. What did he hope to gain?
It was obvious to him now, in that moment, alone with his defenses down, the reason he had come all this way.
He splashed the cold water from the faucet on his face and passed a hand over his dour expression. Folksy strains of bluegrass drifted through the cracked window from the garden's sound system. "I need a shave," he muttered to himself, took the towel, and dried off. He tossed it to the side and exited the bathroom. Heading out the back door again, he pulled the door open the same moment someone started pushing their way inside.
Lana. "Oh!" she yelped as she stumbled.
Hank reached out instinctively to catch her.
She grasped his forearms to keep herself stabilized, then looked up. He almost didn't dare breathe as he studied her. She ducked her head beneath his scrutiny. Her angelic features glowed softly with some inner light . . . or was he just so drunk he was imagining it? There wasn't a single sharp angle or feature on her. Everything about her was generous, accommodating.
Lovely.
"Sorry. I didn't know you went inside," Lana said. She extracted herself from his arms stepped back out the door. "I mean, not that I was looking for you . . . not that I was avoiding you . . . um—"
Hank let the door swing shut behind him as he joined her.
Lana didn't shrink from him, but she didn't seem to have an easier time talking, either. She broke off in the middle of her hard-won sentence to take a swig of her beer, tilting the bottle to finish the last of it.
Hank surprised himself by speaking. "Want to dance?"
Grab your copy of Burning Flame
(Californian Wildfire Fighters Book Three) from
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BLURB
With the clock ticking, Navy SEAL Gage Jackelson must uncover the truth about his fallen teammate before he and his brothers-in-arms take the blame. When his intel leads him to a publishing company, he never dreamed he’d end up as a romance cover model. He’ll do whatever it takes to get closer to the information he needs, but when he meets Anna—the photographer with the striking eyes and sultry voice—it just may be worth it.
Photographer Anna Middleton has shot her share of male models, but none that are real-life SEALs. She’s not sure why the tall, muscular military man would want to pose as a romance hero, but she doesn’t have much time to wonder before her boss disappears under suspicious circumstances. Soon she’s thrust into the middle of a situation that could mean life or death.
When Gage realizes how much trouble Anna is in, he’ll do what he can to shield her from the danger that always follows him. But with the scars from her past that she keeps hidden, can Anna ever trust him if she learns their meeting was based on a lie?
Grab your copy of Shooting The SEAL (Saving The SEALs Book One) from
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* * *
SNEAK PEEK
Gage Jackelson decided he’d rather be in the middle of a fire fight on open water than standing in the front of a green screen in nothing more than his jeans, feeling like a hunk of meat on a slab.
What looked like a Gothic fairy—heavy on the black eye-liner and dyed hair and complete with what looked a pink tutu trimmed in more black—flitted about him, dusting powder on him and muttering about cheekbones.
This was ridiculous. He stood, arms folded, wondering how he could get out of this. But he couldn’t. He had to start thinking of this like a mission. So he let the fairy fuss.
The elevator pinged, and he hoped the photographer had finally arrived and he could wrap up this charade, get the intel they needed, and get his shirt back on. The things he’d do for a friend—even a dead one.
Hearing steps, he glanced over and watched a young woman walk into the studio—okay, warehouse was a better name for it. A loft with more ceiling space than floor space, white walls and photos hung on them. Dirt glazed the windows, but he had enough light on him that he kept breaking a light sweat.
The woman stepped in front of him, head cocked, and stared at him. He could feel his skin warm. He’d been on the other side of that kind of assessment—had been eyeing the girls just last week with Scotty making his usual crude remarks, and Spencer sipping his tequila. This woman would have rated a second look and one of Scotty’s terrible pick-up lines.
Eyes blue as the Mediterranean Sea fixed on him. Tight jeans encased long legs—he’d always been a leg man—and a white silk blouse said she had money enough to afford good clothes. Golden hair had been pulled back from a heart-shaped face. She didn’t wear much makeup that he could see, and he caught a flash of gold earrings. But those eyes kept pulling him back for another look. Who the hell was she? The photographer’s girlfriend?
Turning, she walked over to the camera—not a digital, but something big and old and also expensive-looking. She stared through the lens and then looked up at him. “Gage Jackelson,” she said the name as if she was thinking of something else. She propped a fist on one hip. “I keep wondering why’d a Navy SEAL agree to a cover shoot.” A guy could feel quite warm wrapped up in her sultry tone.
He lifted an eyebrow. “And you are?”
She stepped up and reached out to shake his hand. “Anna Middleton.”
Gage nodded. The photos on the walls all had Middleton signed to them. He was going to guess not the photographer’s
wife—no ring on her finger. He fought the urge to hold her hand longer than he should, but he caught a flush of color in her cheeks. She tilted her head up to look at him and he could swear he caught a flash of surprise in those sea-blue eyes.
Pulling her hand back, he watched as she tucked it behind her back before turning to grab the camera off its stand.
“Did Linda explain how this works?”
Linda—the Gothic fairy—flashed a smile at him. She trailed a finger down his forearm. “You’ll do great. He’s set, Anna.” She ducked away.
Gage glanced at Anna and her camera. “How hard is it to smile for the camera?” Gage drawled. His fingers stopped tingling since he touched her, and he was itching to do so again. Or possibly run his fingers through that soft cloud of hair.
“You’d be surprised.” Her wide mouth twitched at the corners. “We’ll start without props, but Linda will bring a few in later.”
“Props?” Gage lifted both eyebrows.
Anna took a couple of shots, the camera clicking. “We use a green screen so we can drop in any background, but it’s easier to use anything that you will be touching in the actual photos.” Stepping back to the tripod, Anna set the camera on it. She looked through the camera lens, paused and looked back up at him. “Um, you’re looking a little stiff.”
Linda gave a snort of amusement, tried to hide it with a cough. Gage smiled, and Anna gave Linda a dirty look before turning back to Gage. “Any chance you can relax? Loosen up? Look less like you’re standing in front of a camera?”
Gage forced a smile. He was going to kill Scotty and Spencer for talking him into being the one to come to Coran Williams Publishing. This is for Nick, he told himself again. And they had damn little to go on right now—an encrypted flash drive and one personal photo that had been of Nick and Natalie. They hadn’t even found Nick’s awards and honors for service. But the photo had led them here.
“Mr. Jackelson?”
Gage shook himself out of his mood—he’d been starting to frown. He had to watch that. They’d talked it over and all had agreed that busting in here with questions might not get them far. They needed intel, meaning they needed to get inside this place and poke around. Which was why he was here. With his shirt off.
“It’s Lieutenant.” The correction came out automatically but quiet. Not like he was in uniform so she’d know. “Lieutenant Jackelson or Gage.”
She nodded, but the smile looked forced now. “Lieutenant, it would be nice if you seemed a bit less—”
“Stiff?” Gage offered a smile.
“Uncomfortable. Why don’t you tell us a story or describe something in detail?”
“Like a first date?” He was enjoying watching her blush.
That wide mouth of hers tightened. “How about instructions for changing a tire? Or talk about SEAL training. The point is to stop thinking about what you’re doing.”
And how my shirt’s missing. Gage realized that she was right. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to stop thinking about why he was really there. He wasn’t going to search the place any time soon, but he had a great view to check security and access for later.
He already knew Nick’s Natalie was linked to the place.
Natalie hadn’t shown up for Nick’s funeral or his wake. They were still trying to track her down in the hopes that she might know more about why Nick was dead. A photo on the cover of a book had led them here—and Gage lost the toss of the draw for the initial recon.
As soon as he’d walked in the door, he’d been mistaken for a cover model—and that was too good an opportunity to turn down. He’d played it that he could use the extra cash, but now he wondered if he should have just broken in after hours.
“Lieutenant?” That husky, sexy voice snapped him out of his thoughts again. He looked at Anna and found the blue eyes starting to sizzle with irritation. “If this is too much for you—”
Holding up his hand, Gage stopped her. “I got it. A story.” He stared at her.
Eyebrows lifting, she asked, “What’s it like being a SEAL?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what it’s like not being one.”
“You started young.”
“We all start young—it’s not a game for old guys.”
“A game?”
“When you’re out on a mission, you tend to look at it as something to be conquered. It’s win and lose, and losing is not an option. It’s also fun. You jump out of airplanes and helicopters, swim in some of the worst ocean currents, you’re freezing, you’re sweating, and you hike some incredibly dangerous terrain.”
“And when you have time off?”
He crooked the corner of his mouth. “Some of us have been known to go looking for trouble. Or trouble finds us.”
“Which brings you here.” She started snapping photos. “Keep going. You do this alone?”
“Hell, no. You’re a team. We’re a team.”
She looked up from her camera and asked, “And what are they like, your team? Go ahead and move as you talk, you don’t have to stand still.”
He nodded. And stayed where he was, arms crossed. “Well…my team leader…fancies himself a bit of a ladies’ man. He’s got more ex-whatevers spread across this beautiful country than I have teeth, but he’s damn good at his job. Our sniper.”
“Your what?” She straightened and frowned.
“You want to hear this?” he asked.
She nodded and dove behind the camera again. “Go on.”
“He’s…well, he’s like the typical red head. A hot head, except in action he is one cool dude.”
Anna grabbed the camera and circled around him. “Linda, bring in a hat.”
Gage lifted his eyebrows. A hat? Linda grinned at him and put a straw Stetson on his head. She gave him a wink.
From behind her camera, Anna asked in that deep voice of hers, “What about you, Lieutenant? Are you a heart breaker, too?
Gage pulled down the Stetson to a better angle. “My expertise is things that go boom. Not something most women like to hear.”
She pulled the camera down and frowned. “Why?”
He glanced at her from under the brim of the Stetson. “Would you want to get that phone call if I screw up and am coming home in pieces?”
Her frown deepened, but she brought her camera up and snapped more pictures. He couldn’t imagine what she must see. He’d learned how to hide just about everything, but he also knew even the best had small tells—little twitches or shadings that gave away what you felt. And he thought about Nick—Nick who had been sent home in a box.
Why hadn’t Natalie shown up for her new husband’s funeral?
Anna broke into his thoughts again. “So what’s it’s really like being a SEAL? Do you guys get special treatment—I mean special forces and all that?”
He frowned. Did she really want to know—and why was she asking all the questions? He crossed his arms again. Linda dashed over, yanked off the hat and pushed a sword into his hands. “Seriously?” he asked her. She shrugged.
Anna glanced at him. “SEAL? Talking? Come on, Gage, we’re cooking now.” She gave him a grin that had him wanting to tell her just about anything.
“Okay, yeah, it’s different. Doesn’t matter what your rank is—an ensign could be in charge of a team of officers, something that’s been known to piss off some of the brass.”
“Okay, there’s a story there.” Anna motioned to Linda. “Swap the sword for a gun.” Gage liked that better. A weapon in his hand felt natural. “Story?” Anna reminded him.
“It’s not much of one. Happened on a practice maneuvers. Some admiral had been bragging about his time as a SEAL, and our CO offered him a chance to sit in on one of our runs. Our lowest ranked SEAL was running our team and we were one man short.”
Gage stopped, glanced at the fake gun in his hand. One man short—that’s how they were again now. He looked up. “We got the admiral, and it was like a wrench in cogs. We were losing, so Nick…our
ensign, gets an idea that ends with the admiral covered in sludge that might be hazardous, meaning he gets naked and scrubbed and hosed down fast. He was not a happy admiral, but there was not a damn thing he could do about it.”
Gage watched for reactions to the mention of Nick’s name—he hadn’t mentioned anyone else before. He was going to go with neither of these two knowing Nick—they grinned and smiled, just like Nick was still alive.
But he wasn’t. And Natalie was missing. So how did he drop her name into things?
Grab your copy of Shooting The SEAL (Saving The SEALs Book One) from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
Blazing Hot: Californian Wildfire Fighters Book Two Page 11
