Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1)

by Hamilton, Sharon

  Timmons nodded his partially bald head, the shiny nut-brown skin of his scalp all too visible and getting more so by the day. Kyle noticed he looked a little pudgy, too.

  “Why are we tracking the sister?” Timmons asked, staring at the piece of paper like it was a dead cockroach.

  “His sister’s gone missing. Talked to his mom. She’s major freaked.”

  “So this is some kind of stinking foul play. What—”

  “No sir, it wasn’t Armando’s doing. I’d stake my career on it. He’s gone after his sister. Nothing’s disturbed at his place and same for hers, according to his mom. It’s like they just walked into the sunset together.”

  “Except that never happens.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “I don’t want to get the local cops involved. Or the regulars either, if we can help it.”

  “Completely agree, sir.”

  “How could two people disappear without any clues?”

  “Disappearing is what we’re trained to do. When we don’t want to be found, we aren’t found.”

  Timmons nodded again, then gazed back at his report and pulled down his glasses. Then he yanked them off, leaned back in his chair, and nibbled on a well-chewed plastic temple. “One problem with that fuckin’ theory, son.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “When Armando didn’t check in, that’s like painting a great big fucking red SOS sign on a destroyer.” He leaned forward, his forearms on the desk, and stared at Kyle. “He wanted to be found from the day he left.”

  Chapter 9

  Christy tore into cleaning her condo with complete abandon. She’d washed three loads of laundry, including the sheets full of the scent of him. She added five lavender-scented dryer sheets just in case a trace of the man remained.

  On her hands and knees, she scoured the bathroom floor. She removed almost everything from her refrigerator and cleaned her glass shelves with hot, soapy water. Searching through her closet, she filled a garbage bag full of clothes she would give away to the women’s shelter. Purging her bathroom vanity drawers, she gathered up little bottles of shampoo and soap from her hotel stays and threw them into the giveaway bag.

  Damn him. How dare he come waltzing in here, disrupting my life? Everything had been just f—

  But no. Everything hadn’t been fine. Her eyes, already sore from crying, painfully filled with tears again. She felt cheap, furious with herself for allowing the romp in the hay without commitment.

  What were you thinking?

  After checking her phone at the office for messages, she forwarded calls to her cell. She went online and answered several emails that had piled up over the last two days.

  Kyle Lansdowne lacked for nothing, of course—the asshole had screwed her good and plenty and then had left. No way she’d let him treat her this way. Her insides still smoldered, but she’d landed on her feet.

  God damn you. Who gave you the right? How could I have felt as if something wonderful were happening?

  The option of giving up and going back to San Francisco to nurse her wounds was out of the question. She had to beg Simms not to fire her. He’d left a rather stern message this afternoon. She needed another cup of coffee to dredge up the guts to return his call. No doubt that Realtor they’d run into at the model had told a compelling story, and had probably even embellished it.

  Well, she had to just suck it up and deal. They’d all be surprised. She’d throw herself into her work even more than before. Be the best goddamned salesperson in the whole office, if given a second chance. After all, she’d had lots of training selling upscale bras and panties that cost as much as most people’s car payments.

  She would make it her mission to go looking for someone else to wipe the memory of Kyle out of her mind, someone else to kiss her all over and make her shudder with pleasure. Couldn’t be that hard to do.

  Working for Madame M in San Francisco had exposed her to a clientele of wealthy older men who would often ask her to dinner or the theater. One had even asked her on a cruise. But the answer had always been the same. She’d done her share of flirting, part of her customer service, and Madame M had showed her how the clients liked it. Happy clients bought more things. But Christy never took their interest seriously. She knew they were seeking a replacement to a loss in their life as the result of either widowhood or divorce. Madame M had called them the “real DDs.”

  Christy didn’t mind being the familiar face associated with happier times when they bought lingerie for their wives or long-term companions. But she didn’t want to be a step anything, wanting to have her own family someday with someone who hadn’t made that choice before. Christy wanted to be someone’s only.

  She sunk into her leather couch and leaned back. A cobweb she had missed dangled in the corner, almost winking at her. Christy jumped up and threw a rag at it, then collapsed back into the couch and had a good cry. Although she’d tried, despite all the scrubbing, cleaning and purging, only one man’s face popped up on her radar screen—the one with the three-toed tattoo tracks running up his arm.

  Get a grip, Christy. Life moves on. Apparently he has, too.

  But she could have sworn he’d felt something.

  She jumped up, stormed into the kitchen, and threw her rag into the suds in the kitchen sink, which sent a splash of gray water all over her countertop and onto the floor.

  Maybe another team guy could fill the bill, someone Kyle even knew. That would get him. And it would serve him fucking right. Let him imagine her screwing the other guy senseless every time Kyle had to look at the guy. Every time they had to go on a training mission.

  See how it feels to be discarded.

  First things first. She dialed her manager’s office.

  “Christy. Thanks for calling back. I was a little worried. I hadn’t seen or heard from you in a couple of days. You okay?”

  “Yes. Been working, but out of the house,” she lied.

  “Good. That’s good. Say, I got this very disturbing call yesterday afternoon from Connie at the Infinity sales office,” Simms said.

  “Yeah. I thought maybe she would call.” Christy sucked it up and just decided to tell the truth. If she lost her job over it, well, she hated hanging around Wayne and the way he stared through her clothes anyway.

  “Mr. Simms.” She surprised herself how confident she sounded. So she turned it up a notch and continued, “I owe you an apology.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  Christy heard doubt in his voice, and continued. “I was so relieved when that SEAL turned out to be…he had a legitimate reason for being at the house. I was the one in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I thought it was Wayne’s fault. But he insists he gave you the right address.”

  “Whatever. It isn’t important anymore.”

  “Never happened before here. Very strange. I’m glad you weren’t really hurt.”

  “No. Just scared out of my gourd. But it was my fault, I guess. Anyway, the tension was getting to me a little, and I wanted to give him a chance to apologize. So, we agreed to have lunch. Well, one thing led to another, and…” She had to tell the little white lie to keep her job. “All we did was kiss. I know what you’re going to say. It was a complete lapse in judgment on my part.”

  Simms chuckled into the phone. “Yeah, those guys can get pretty wound up. Nice lookin’ fella. I can’t say as I blame you. But…Christy…she said it went way beyond kissing. She said…”

  “Just how would she know?” Christy interrupted. “I can’t deny the fact that we were engaged in a very passionate kiss, but, honestly, Mr. Simms, do you really believe we would…It was the model, and, you know... I live right upstairs. If…”

  He sighed. “Yeah. Look, Christy. I get it. Older agent versus a new, young, pretty agent. She thinks you get your business by screwing your clients. Unfortunately, I’ve heard that one before, too.”

  “Well, it wasn’t very professional of me. Not right her c
lients had to be witness to my little indiscretion.”

  “Oh, hell, they probably didn’t mind it, although she said different.”

  “They were laughing. I’m sure she blew it out of proportion. I don’t even want to know what she told you.”

  Christy knew Simms was blushing even though she couldn’t see his face.

  Yeah, the old biddy told him about the panties.

  “Well, I’m satisfied. As long as you clarify one more thing with me.” Simms words came across short and clipped. Christy braced herself.

  “Sure. What?”

  “Did you enjoy the rest of the afternoon?” He chuckled again.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” She hung up.

  Total truth, Christy couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle.

  The hair at the back of her neck and all the way down her spine tickled deliciously where he had kissed her, where she needed him to kiss her now. She stood at a crossroads between spending energy trying to bury her feelings for him and…what?

  Oh. My. God. Am I actually thinking about running after him?

  Something she’d never done. She wasn’t going to beg. Besides, he’d made it clear. For her sake, he would say no.

  He’d walked right back into her life with those damned red signs and the flowers and had made a nest in her heart. And then something had made him stop. Something Christy knew she didn’t cause.

  What?

  Maybe if she could find him, they could talk it over. Take it slow. She could tell him she didn’t expect a lifetime, just a casual friendship. A little relationship, not a big one. A friendship with benefits.

  How do I do this? Where do I find him? He knew how to reach her, but she had no clue how to find him. She couldn’t just hang around a bunch of bars, hoping for him to show up.

  Could she have offended him in some way? Had he misunderstoodd her? She just couldn’t let it go. She didn’t do “wait” very well. Wait until he decided to waltz back into her life?

  Never! But if she didn’t talk to him perhaps he would ship out, or worse, find someone else.

  No.

  She’d have to go back to that street Armando lived on. Back to the page of the Thomas Bros. guide she had already mentally ripped out of her book.

  Though she was nervous, she had to go back to Armando’s house to search for some evidence where Kyle was staying.

  Christy’s red Honda puttered down the tree-lined street of Armando’s neighborhood. The sun hung low, on its way to retiring. She drove by the house quickly at first, making sure there wasn’t a car in the driveway. A vacant brown beat-up Buick was parked down the street two doors away. Other than that, the neighborhood seemed empty. A jet streaked across the sky and sent a rumble through the air.

  Fly boy.

  Christy pulled into the driveway in case she needed to make a quick exit. The front door to the house was locked. As she walked around the side, trying the wood sash windows, she heard something inside clatter to the floor. She listened through a window that had closed drapes but heard no other noise.

  She continued along the side of the house to a wooden gate leading to the rear yard. She pulled a wire latch, and a shallow garden oasis with a lap pool came into view. Everything was neatly maintained, although the grass looked a little long. A few dozen leaves floated in the turquoise water, out of place.

  A pair of concrete steps on the back porch led her to the rear sliding glass door, and, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She slid it open without making a sound.

  As soon as she stepped into the large open kitchen, she knew she’d made a mistake, but her curiosity had been piqued. The house had been ransacked. Things had been tossed everywhere, a chair left upended, cabinet doors flung open, and several dishes lay smashed across the kitchen floor.

  She turned and went down the hallway leading to the now-infamous rear bedroom. Inside the room she found all the sheets had been ripped from the mattress and tossed about. The mattress top was sliced open. Clothes from Armando’s closet were strewn haphazardly all over the place.

  All of a sudden, she heard the front door open and slam shut, then heard footsteps running outside. Through the living room window she saw two men jump into the brown sedan that had been parked down the street. They pulled a U-turn and left the area.

  Christy quickly checked the rest of the house without touching anything. She was alone. A message light blinked on the phone machine. Using the edge of her jacket, she pushed the button to play it back.

  “Amigo,” a thickly accented voice said. “Thirty minutes. Foothills. Smell fire. They got at least ten. Loaded. Left…” The line went dead. Christy knew she’d just heard the voice of Armando, and he sounded stressed. He’d spoken in some sort of code. She didn’t have time to put together the pieces, but knew she had to get the message to Kyle right away. Something told her it could mean a matter of life or death. She jotted down the words, replayed the message until she got it right.

  Would Kyle believe her? Well, yes, if he heard the message. But knowing he wanted to disappear, would she even be able to find him?

  She remembered what he’d told her about the community, and how the buzz traveled like the Underground Railroad. Everyone knew about everyone else somehow. So, if she gave one of the team guys a message, Kyle would come. She was counting on it.

  Christy drove to the Golden Bear Café and searched for square shouldered, stern looking men with tattoos and didn’t spot one. But she saw the cook Kyle knew. Griz. Maybe he’d have a suggestion.

  Griz’s unshaved chin was heavily scarred on the right side. His steel blue eyes wandered carefully up and down her torso with a glint of appreciation for another man’s lady. At least that’s how she interpreted it, anyway.

  “Well, hello there. You flying solo today, or is he meeting up with you later?” Griz asked her while wiping his hands on his stained apron.

  “I was hoping you’d remember me,” Christy said as she looked down at her sandaled feet with the pink toenail polish, and then back up to his face before her tears burst loose.

  Damn those pink toes.

  “You’re not exactly easy to forget.” He smiled, but didn’t look at her cleavage, though she could tell he wanted to. She liked that part about this community, the respect they showed her. The direct look without flinching, Not hiding the effect she had on him.

  “You wanna beer?” he finally said.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well then, Missy, what can I do you for?” He chewed on a toothpick as he nodded to a couple just entering the diner.

  “I’m looking for Kyle. It’s important.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. With you. Doubt he’ll be here tonight either. Not his scene.”

  “If you could put the word out. I need to talk to him about a friend of his.”

  “Um hum. This a message he’s going to want to hear?” The man pinned her with his eyes, being careful, protective of Kyle.

  “Yes. He’s looking for someone. You know, Armando. I may have some information.”

  “’Kay. So you have some information about Armando. Where should he contact you if I hear from him?”

  Christy fished out her business card. “My cell phone’s at the bottom.”

  Griz flipped the card back and forth against his other thumb, obviously thinking. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Christy felt the awkwardness of the two of them standing in a nearly empty room.

  “Well. I’ve got to go. I’m going to drive around and see if I can spot his Hummer.”

  He nodded. “You two have a little tiff?”

  “That’s an off limits question.”

  “Could be, but then Kyle’s a special operator and we look out for each other.”

  “I know about that. Any idea where he’s staying?”

  “You’re asking me? I’m surprised he let you escape.”

  Griz grinned full out, but lopsided and apologetic. She saw the heart of gold
inside the rough-hewn man of steel.

  Christy scratched the back of her head, hoping to break the tension and change the mood. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll be off now. But if you think of anything, please give me a call.”

  Christy’s shoulders stiffened as she drove back and forth along the strip lined by little shops across the street from a white expanse of beach. Several times she thought she felt eyes watching her, but upon checking in the rear view mirror, she found no sign of the black Hummer. She ran into three young men in shorts and flip-flops with matching wrap-around sunglasses that screamed military issue at the frozen yogurt stand. She also gave them one of her cards since they hinted they might know Kyle but said they weren’t sure.

  They’re lying.

  She checked her phone to see if she’d missed a call, but her voicemail was empty. The afternoon wafted away from her, so she decided to return home. She hoped to see a black Hummer inside the automatic gate at the underground garage, but no such luck. She stepped into the elevator after parking and made it up to the fourteenth floor.

  A maid vacuuming the hallway nodded a greeting as Christy let herself in the condo.

  Dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes on her way to the bathroom, she automatically massaged the back of her neck, which was still so tight. She recalled how Kyle had protected her head when he leveled her to the ground that first day. This must be some resulting swollen tissue, she thought.

  She slipped off her clothes and prepared a bubble bath. She placed her cell phone to the tub’s edge and picked up a current romance novel she had yet to finish. She’d just submerged in the warm bubbles and lay back against a towel when her cell rang. A strange combination of numbers, not from an area code around San Diego, appeared in a sequence on the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Christy.”

  A shot of electricity traveled down her spine. She’d done a pretty good job of thinking she could maintain her composure until she heard Kyle’s voice. Her will turned to butter.