SEAL's Justice: A Navy SEAL Romantic Suspense Novel

by Ferrari, Flora

  “It could work. I will need time to think it over and give it the attention it deserves. In a quiet space at a quiet time where I can weigh all the advantages and disadvantages.”

  “I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, but now is the time to move. It’s summer so we could also get clients from Turkey and even some of the wealthy refugees and migrants. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. Some are just migrants posing as refugees. They are men and they are carrying a lot of cash. And it’s been a long time since they’ve been with a woman. They’ve been traveling for days. They could use a break.”

  “To refresh,” he said.

  “To refresh,” I said.

  “I will think about it,” he said. I could tell he was ready to go. His attention started to wander.

  “Thank you for your consideration. I can only leave this offer to you for three days. If you are not interested I understand, but then I must take it to someone else.”

  Just like that I had his full attention back.

  “You have others you are speaking to about this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Which others would you take this to?”

  “Confidentiality. I’m sorry, but I can not say.”

  “And you are keeping our business confidential?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. This is important. There are always other eyes and ears. Others who want a piece of the action. Or in some cases all of the action. The pie is big enough for us to split now. In the future it may not be so.”

  “It’s never big enough for some people.”

  “Unfortunately this is true.”

  I left our meeting and took the ferry back over to Kos. I always took a different position on the ferry. I was trying to keep an eye on the other passengers through my sunglasses. See if I recognized anyone twice. Keep an eye out for a tail. That’s what had happened to Smith down in Colombia.

  Smith had been going to a bar down in Medellín a couple times a week. Not to drink, but to appear to drink. And to gather intel. He’d order a vodka tonic. The shot of vodka on the side. They’d deliver the drink to his table. He’d discretely dump the vodka into the potted plant on his table, or between the cracks in the wood, or just mix it into a separate drink. A double fisted gringo at a bar isn’t lonely. He’s a friend waiting to be made.

  He mostly shot pool and practiced his Spanish. At least that was his cover. A Spanish student looking to improve, and have a little fun in the process. He kept his eyes and ears open and his head down.

  He got into a pool match one day with a guy who didn’t seem to understand fair play. Every shot of Smith’s didn’t count for some unknown, fabricated reason and every shot of the señor’s did.

  Smith wasn’t going to cause a scene. He just finished the game and walked back to his table. The days leading up to that day Smith was just fishing. He’d bait his hook so to speak, casually throw it into the water, and see what came back. He knew the bar was hot with drug runners. He was just waiting for one to bite. He didn’t just get a bite that day. He hooked into a whale.

  “Don’t chu know who that is, gringo?” A guy he had had a few friendly games came over to the table where Smith had sat down after the game.

  “Should I?”

  “Does a salmon swim upstream? If you get caught around that guy you are going to be trying to swim upstream for the rest of your days. The remainder of which won’t be long because a giant bear will come out and knock you down with its paw and eat you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “¡Ponte las pilas!” And he walked off.

  Smith had never seen him so concerned before. Had always taken him for a pot-smoking hippie. He had heard that last term before. ¡Ponte las pilas! It translated to put your batteries in. Colombian slang for be careful. Careful wasn’t a word in his vocabulary.

  He decided to stay put. See what developed. A fight broke out between the man he had played pool with and another local. Seconds later he heard gunshots. He just kept facing the same direction. Same bent over the table posture. Still drinking his vodka without alcohol.

  “What ‘chu lookin at?” the man shouted to the entire bar in Spanish. No one was looking. They went back about their business. The man slammed the money for his drinks on the pool table and walked out.

  Smith continued to sip at his drink until he was the last customer of the night.

  The waitress came over.

  “I know you’re not sucking on that same drink. And I saw you throw that shot in the plant. Saw you do it the day before too.”

  She wasn’t aggressive. Just playful. Smith was well built and good-looking.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Josh Smith. Nice to meet you?”

  “It’s my pleasure, really.”

  And that’s how it all started. Smitty arranged a date. He really liked her. That was his primary motive, but he was down there on Uncle Sam’s dime. A waitress in that bar could be a prime source of intel.

  They had been together over three weeks when the topic of how they met came up.

  “I thought you were going to die that day?”

  “Why is that?”

  “Don’t you know who that was?”

  “No.”

  “Really. I thought everybody knew.”

  “Not this body.”

  She laughed. “That’s one of the narco-subers.”

  “What’s that?” Smith already knew the answer.

  “Those guys who build the subs for their drugs. Then take them up to your country and sell them.”

  “Really? They do that?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

  “No. I thought they used airplanes.”

  “They used to. Still do some. Mostly too risky now.”

  “How can those guys build subs?”

  “I don’t know, but they have guys that do it.”

  “You’re messing with me.” Smith poked her in the side. Teasing her as she pulled away in laughter.

  “I’m not!”

  “Well if they are, then where in the heck are they doing it?”

  “In the jungle, silly.”

  “This whole country is a jungle. Silly!”

  They played and teased some more. Smith got her to open up about the suspected location. She said she knew because a cousin of hers used to go there to work. Suddenly they didn’t see him any more. She knew he was an engineer. And she knew he suddenly had more money than he ever had before he disappeared.

  Smith reported back to his unit. The intel he had gathered was priceless. If the U.S. government could take this guy out before he opened his mouth about any of his political relationships it would save a lot of potential embarrassment. Plus they’d have a big head to hang on their wall right before election time.

  Smith and another SEAL got set up for a two-man intel team. They were sliding, swimming, crawling and doing whatever they had to do to make their way through the rivers twice a week. Getting close to the compound. Coming back with photographs and then working with Navy cartographers to plot the exact area. This was before drones became so popular. One day they got a little too close. Too far past the pre-established point. Too deep into enemy territory. That in itself wasn’t a foul. It was that someone else had slipped in behind them.

  I wasn’t going to let anyone slip in behind me on this deal with The Turk. But I wanted The Turk to feel like someone might slip in behind him if he didn’t act. And if Devlin was in the area and anyway tied to anything with the refugees as the DEA suspected, he’d be the one most likely to try.

  CHAPTER 7

  Now it was a waiting game. The Turk had three days to play his cards. I had three days to pretend not to care. Dimitriadis and Papadakis had swept the boat and brought Hassan in that night under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t talking. Not a word. Didn’t even ask if he was being detained or free to go. The oldest get out of jail free card, or at least limit your time being detained, that there is. They s
uspected we didn’t have enough on him to get what we wanted. They could hold him a week tops. If they brought in the Greeks maybe longer. The DEA and the Greeks could bounce him back in forth in a sea of paperwork and detentions. Once he was out, our luck was likely out with it.

  Frost was still recovering. That was OK with me. I did what I had to do. Frost just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad it happened while he was trying to help me out.

  With Frost out and Dimitriadis and Papadakis working on the detention and a number of other cases at once it left just Claire Abbey and me.

  We searched the database. Used the wall as a giant whiteboard to try and set up a flow chart. We had headshots of the known players. It was like a puzzle. If we could connect all the pieces we could set the trap much quicker. Right now we had a bunch of the pieces of the side of that puzzle, and we needed the middle.

  The middle had to be Devlin. He had to be the one that made it all go. It was his ego. He was the center of everything or he didn’t play. If he decided to play he would make sure he was the center. Since I had spotted him in the area, it was a good bet he was playing. He looked like he was on a holiday, but guys like that never go on holiday. Business is pleasure and pleasure is business.

  Abbey and I took an off day and she agreed to let me give her a windsurfing lesson. I was pretty good so it was going to be easy. More importantly it was going to be fun. Clear our minds a little. Come back fresh. And of course I was going to take any alone time I could get with her.

  We went over to Big Blue Surf Center and rented our gear. We had a great time. She was smiling and laughing all day. I was too. I think I got her mind off everything. A success in my book.

  At the end of the day we returned the gear. We both had our change of clothes in backpacks.

  “Let’s get a hotel,” I said.

  “Today? Now?”

  “Why not? We’re adults. I’m having a great time. You’re having a great time. I want to take it to the next level.”

  “I’m having a great time?” she teased.

  “Except when you fell off backwards and nearly ran into that little kid.”

  “That little girl was good! She looked like a pro.”

  “Yeah, she was pretty good, but let’s not change the subject.”

  “I don’t know Zamora. What’s to say we have a great time. Then we wrap up this case. And then it’s all over?”

  “You don’t think we’re going to wrap up the case?”

  “Very funny. I’m serious.”

  “I learned to live for the day. Plan for the future, but live in the now. We don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. Especially in our line of work. Let’s enjoy each other while we can. Let’s enjoy each other right now.”

  I reached down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She liked it. She was kissing me back hard. Trying to pull me into her mouth with hers. Then she pulled away. She looked me in the eye. Put her little hand in mine.

  “Show me the way.”

  The taxi driver took us to a quiet little accommodation on the other side of the island. The minute we walked in the door it was on.

  I picked her up and tossed her on the bed. The instant she landed she was pulling her shirt up over her head. In one move I pulled off my shirt and was on top of her. My hands were exploring every part of her. I wanted to feel her skin again. Her skin on mine. I reached back with my left hand and unhooked her bra with my index and middle fingers. I took her breasts in my hands. Squeezed them. Ran circles around her areolas and then sucked on her nipples.

  My trunks were about to explode. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled off her shorts and swimsuit bottoms all in one pull. There she was. Totally naked. Totally perfect. Totally mine.

  I slid out of my trunks and couldn’t wait to slide into her. To feel her.

  I pressed my manhood at her opening and rubbed it around clockwise. A firm massage on her folds. She gasped and clawed at my back.

  “I want you inside me.”

  That’s exactly where I was headed. I rocked my hips back and then forward. Thrusting myself inside until there was no more space for me.

  She let out a scream.

  “Too deep?”

  “No. More.”

  I thrust and thrust. I could barely control myself. I wanted her so bad I was about to come instantly.

  I flipped her over and shoved a pillow under her mid-section. Her butt was elevated. I could slam off her backside as hard as I wanted. Drilling her deep. She grabbed the end of the bed and bit down on the mattress. She was moaning. Her head was shaking sideways and back and forth. We were losing our minds in lust.

  I pumped and pumped and pumped. Thrust and thrust and thrust.

  I didn’t care. I was going to finish now.

  “I’m gonna explode.”

  “In me! Don’t stop.”

  Her words sent me over the top. I flung my hips forward as hard as I could three more times. On the third I felt my body shake and a rush of heat transfer from my groin and out into her. I was literally a volcano erupting.

  She let out a long scream. It only ended when she ran out of breath. I collapsed on top of her. Forgetting I was too big and too heavy to do so. She didn’t complain. She liked the skin-on-skin sensation too.

  We continued like teenagers all night and into the morning. We passed out in each other’s arms well after sunrise. The next thing I knew the housekeeper was knocking at the front door.

  “Sorry. Do you want to stay longer?”

  “Yes. I’ll come by the office later.”

  “OK. Thank you.”

  Abbey was still in my arms. Hadn’t even moved. I immediately fell right back to sleep.

  A short while later I felt some stirring and opened my eyes. She was rolling out of bed. Sitting on the edge.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Three minutes to seven,” she said.

  “In the evening?”

  She was turned away, but I could her laughing. She was checking her phone.

  “That’s what I have to double check too.”

  I looked at my phone. No missed calls. No messages.

  “Did anyone try and get ahold of you?”

  “Nope. Frost was out all day. He knows I’m with you. And if I’m with you, I’m safe.”

  I liked the way she said that. I liked even more that she didn’t even have to think about it first. The words just came out like there were no other alternatives than to always be safe when I’m around. She knew deep down when she was with me her safety was a guarantee requiring no second thought. It was automatic.

  “You’re one hundred percent right about that,” I said. “Except you’re not safe from me!” I rolled over and grabbed her off the side of the bed. Pulled her back in. We picked up right where we had left off.

  We checked out the next morning and went to a coffee shop to hatch out some options. We wanted to stay on this side of the island just in case.

  We were half way through our first coffee. Still reveling in the glow of our romp and of the island breeze when my phone vibrated. It said: Let’s talk. 5 o’clock on my side.

  I rotated my wrist so Abbey could read the message.

  “Looks like he’s biting.”

  “Guys like this don’t text you like this when they’re biting. They text you like this when they’re already hooked.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  “Zamora, I need to get something concrete. Something on record.”

  “You want statements. I’ve got plenty. You want me to wear a wire? I can do that.”

  “You’re not an agent.” I could see where this was going. “I need to do it myself.”

  “You want to cross over with me?”

  “I have to. I have to see this for myself. It will help me wrap my head around it. Maybe it will help me put the pieces together tonight when we’re staring at that big white wall with all the headshots on it.”


  “Are you sure?” Who was I to say no? Not going to be a hypocrite.

  “I’m sure.”

  We put together a plan and before you knew it we were on that ferry over to Bodrum.

  I exited the ferry first. Abbey stayed back to tail. The Turk had sent the same guy to meet me. He was getting too predictable. Too sloppy.