Ella put her hand over the phone and looked at Cash. “Houses in an hour?”
“Sounds good.” He climbed from the bed and headed for the shower while she made arrangements with the agent.
In the two weeks since they’d flown out of Qu’rim, life had barely slowed down. Sheikh Fahd had renounced any claim to a union with her and complained bitterly that her relatives had tricked him into thinking she was marriageable when she wasn’t. Ella had worried about being whisked away again in the middle of the night or something, but Cash—and Colonel Mendez—had assured her it wouldn’t happen.
Apparently another man had gotten involved, someone named Ian, and whatever he’d promised Fahd had done the trick.
Aunt Flavia was dead. Ella would never know if she’d been the one to deliver the kill shot, but she believed Cash when he told her it was unlikely. And knowing how lethally accurate he and his teammates were, it was easier to believe it had been one of them. More likely as well.
Uncle Gaetano was currently being held in custody in Qu’rim, awaiting extradition—praying for extradition, in fact, since conditions in Qu’rimi prisons weren’t exactly ideal—to the US on kidnapping and human trafficking charges.
Ella’s cousins weren’t responsible for their parents’ cruelty, so Ella didn’t cut them off entirely. But she did make them vacate the Virginia house. She’d also made them kneel in her presence when they’d come to see her at her lawyer’s office. Cash had stood by with a stony expression, but he’d given her a nod of approval when she’d done it.
She hadn’t been intending to do anything of the sort, but when Luciana had started whining to the lawyer about how unfair it was that Ella had inherited everything, she’d snapped.
“Kneel,” she’d commanded.
Luciana had blinked at her like a deer in the headlights.
Ella had risen to her feet. “Kneel,” she’d yelled, her entire body trembling inside as she stood there with clenched fists.
Luciana and her sister Julia had dropped to their knees in an instant, bowing their heads as they did so. “Yes, Majesty,” they’d said.
Things went much smoother after that. Luciana and Julia had left the meeting white-faced, but they’d not left destitute. That was more than they deserved, but Ella felt it was right.
Now she and Cash climbed into his Mustang—he swore he was getting the bullet hole fixed but he hadn’t done it yet—and headed out to meet the agent. The media hadn’t yet found where she and Cash were living, but she wanted a more secure place for when they did.
They spent the day touring homes, each one more grand than the next. The agent was clearly impressed with Ella’s status and thought she needed something commensurate with her station. Ella let the woman rattle on.
Cash didn’t say anything, but Ella felt like he wasn’t exactly comfortable in most of the houses. Truthfully, neither was she. Finally, Ella put a hand up when the agent had yet another grand location for them to tour. The woman stuttered to a halt.
“These are all too big,” Ella said. “How about something around three thousand square feet. Maybe four. But no bigger. Something a family would live in and be able to grow in. Not a showplace to impress rich friends.”
The woman blinked a few times. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. I know a few properties.”
“Please,” Ella said. “Call me Mrs. McQuaid.”
Cash smiled at her, and her heart turned over at all the love she saw there. He reached for her hand and held it tight.
“Of course, Mrs. McQuaid. As you wish.”
When they were in the car again and following the agent, she turned to Cash. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He had both hands on the wheel. He glanced at her. “Because I want you to have whatever makes you happy, Ella. It’s your money and your decision.”
She touched his arm. “No, it’s our decision. And it’s our money, though I know you won’t think so. But I lived my whole life without it, and I don’t care if I have it now. All I care about is being with you.”
“That’s what I care about. And if being with you in an eight-thousand-square-foot house makes you happy, then that’s what I’m doing.”
“I want a home, Cash. With you.”
He shot her one of those killer smiles of his. “Then we’ll find one we both like. And I’ll strip you naked and make love to you in every single room.”
Ella shivered. “I like that idea.”
As if agreeing made it happen, the very next house proved to be the one. Set on ten acres near the Chesapeake Bay, the house was grand without being ostentatious. There were four bedrooms, three baths, a huge chef’s kitchen for Cash, a small library for her, a pool, and lush grounds with blooming flowers and mature trees. The perfect place to raise a family whenever they got to that stage. And they would in time. Ella was certain of it.
They stood on the back porch that overlooked the yard. The terrain sloped gently downward. Because they were on a hill, they could see the bay sparkling in the distance. Ella’s heart was full.
“This one,” she said, gazing at the view in wonder. When she turned to Cash, he smiled. He wasn’t looking at the view though. He was looking at her.
“Yes,” he said. “This one. Always.”
He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, and she thanked the universe for setting her on the path that had brought her here. Even if she’d technically stolen a car to do it.
Epilogue
Alexei Kamarov—for though he was Alex, or Camel, to his friends, he would always think of himself by the Russian name his immigrant parents had given him—slept the sleep of the dead. He’d just returned from a mission with his team and it hadn’t been a fun one. Twenty days in the desert, fighting through a thick tangle of terrorists in order to rescue a group of American students who’d been dumb enough to go on a backpacking trip through hostile territory.
But the SEALs had gotten them all and the students were home safe. Alexei had picked off the enemy one by one for a few days, weakening them until his SEAL team could move in and dispatch the remainder quickly and efficiently.
Now he slept, passed out on the king-sized bed in the house he’d rented in the suburbs, blissfully unaware of the world around him. Well, maybe not entirely unaware. A too-loud noise, a disturbance nearby, and he’d be on his feet in a second, holding the Glock he kept on the nightstand. Too many years in Special Forces had done that to him. He didn’t process sounds and movement like a normal human being anymore.
Still, nothing disturbed him for a long time, and he slept. Until, eventually, there was a pounding on the door. Alexei blinked awake, his heart rate barely kicking up. Pounding on the door was nothing. Kicking the door in? Well, that would be quite a different matter.
But nobody kicked the door in. They just kept pounding. He sat up and grabbed the Glock, stuffed it in the waistband of the camo pants he’d fallen asleep in—at the rear, in the small of his back—and shoved a hand through his hair.
“Just a goddamn minute,” he yelled. Lumbering to his feet, he shook his head to clear it, then shuffled into the bathroom and swished some mouthwash to kill the taste of three weeks of sand and deprivation.
After taking a piss, he washed his hands and started for the door. The pounding wasn’t pounding anymore. But it was an annoyingly pervasive tap-tap-tap. A female voice punctuated the tapping with a few well-timed curses.
“I know you’re in there, you rat bastard! Answer the goddamn door!”
Alexei jerked the door open in mid-tap and her fist arced through empty air. She stumbled forward, catching herself by pressing both hands to his chest. She caught herself quickly and flew backward as if he were an electric fence.
Alexei squinted at the brightness of the sunshine behind her. Damn, how long had he slept anyway? It had been around two in the morning when he’d gotten home.
Presently, he focused on the woman standing on his porch. She was about five-three, slender but not skinny, and she
had pale purple hair. Seriously, purple hair. It fell in waves to her shoulders, skimming them as she turned to gaze at something off to her left.
He turned too, frowning when he saw the stroller. It was flat and covered, and he couldn’t tell if anything was in it. Hell, it looked like one of those dog strollers he’d seen in the neighborhood once. But he didn’t think there was a dog in this one. In fact, he kinda had a bad feeling about the whole thing.
The woman gazed at him, her expression hardening. “Are you Alex Kamarov?”
He hooked a hand over his head, on the doorframe, and let his gaze wander over her. She was cute. And sort of familiar, like maybe he’d seen her somewhere before. But he didn’t know where. It would come to him soon enough.
“Yeah. Why?”
She jerked her head toward the stroller, then glared daggers at him. “Because you need to step up and stop shirking your responsibilities, that’s why.”
“Lady, I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about.”
She reached for the handle on the stroller, turned it so he could see the tiny baby sound asleep on her back. He could tell it was a girl based on the pink onesie. Her little face was angelic, and she had a head of black hair that was shocking in its abundance.
“I’m talking about your baby, Alex. Your baby.”
Shock rooted him to the spot for a long minute. And then reality doused him with cold water. Think.
Yeah, he’d had his share of sexual encounters, but he was careful. Very, very careful. He never forgot the condom.
“You expect me to believe that’s my kid? I don’t even know you, lady. You could be anybody, making shit up for reasons of your own.”
She looked scandalized. “How dare you? I am not making this up. Anastasia is yours.”
Alexei glanced at the kid sleeping so peacefully. Then back at the woman who glared at him. She was angry and utterly determined. But why had she needed to ask who he was if she knew he was her kid’s father?
It occurred to him this could be a joke. That Cowboy or Money could have put this girl up to it in order to scare him. Jesus, those two clowns. Both married now. Both out of their frigging minds.
Alexei grinned at the hot honey with the purple hair. He hated to disappoint her, but skepticism was practically his middle name.
“Sorry, babe, but you’re going to have to prove it.”
Her eyes hardened. The kid suddenly went from sleeping to crying. Panic crossed the woman’s features as she pulled the baby from the stroller and cradled her. Blue eyes met his for a desperate moment. Then she bent her head and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.
“Hush, little angel. Hush. Auntie Bailey’s got you. Shh.”
Auntie? That certainly explained why she didn’t recognize him even though she was insisting he was the father of her child. He was almost disappointed that he’d never spent the night with her.
The baby continued to cry and she continued to soothe, but she looked uncomfortable doing it. Like she wasn’t accustomed to babies.
Shit.
He couldn’t leave her standing on the porch. A beat-up old Volkswagen Beetle was parked by the curb. Did that thing even have seat belts?
He stepped back and held the door open. “Why don’t you come inside until she stops crying?”
The girl looked at him with wide eyes. Desperate eyes. “I… I don’t know…”
“Look, if I’m the father—and I’m not saying I am—you don’t expect I won’t ever want to see the kid, do you? Which means bringing her here to my house. So come inside and figure out what she wants.”
“What she wants?”
“Diaper. Food.” He cocked his head to the side. “You ever take care of a baby?”
She bit her lip. Then she shook her head. “I’m learning.”
Alexei held out his hands, cursing himself six ways to Sunday as he did. “Give her to me.”
“You? What do you know?”
“I’m the oldest of six. I know a thing or two. Now hand her over and come inside. Or stand out here and let her scream. Your choice, Bailey.”
She blinked at his use of her name. And then she handed him the baby.
*
THANK YOU!
Thanks for reading this HOT SEAL Team story! If you want to read Alex “Camel” Kamarov’s story and find out what happens, then click on the title: HOT SEAL REDEMPTION
*
HOT SEAL Team sniper Alex “Camel” Kamarov gets more than he bargained for when he meets Bailey Jones—and the baby she swears is his!
*
For news on upcoming stories in the HOT SEAL Team series, sign up for Lynn’s Newsletter by clicking here.
*
Click here to join the Hotties, my Facebook Readers and Fans Group. We have fun in the Hotties! There are giveaways, shenanigans, and generally a good time hanging out with book friends.
*
For more information about all of my books, click here to visit my website.
Also by Lynn Raye Harris
The HOT SEAL Team Books
*
Book 1: HOT SEAL - Dane & Ivy
*
Book 2: HOT SEAL Lover - Remy & Christina
*
Book 3: HOT SEAL Rescue - Cody & Miranda
*
Book 4: HOT SEAL BRIDE - Cash & Ella
*
Book 5: HOT SEAL REDEMPTION - Coming May 18, 2018
To be kept up to date about all of Lynn’s new books, sign up for her newsletter by clicking here.
*
The Hostile Operations Team Books
*
Book 0: RECKLESS HEAT
*
Book 1: HOT PURSUIT - Matt & Evie
*
Book 2: HOT MESS - Sam & Georgie
*
Book 3: HOT PACKAGE - Billy & Olivia
*
Book 4: DANGEROUSLY HOT - Kev & Lucky
*
Book 5: HOT SHOT - Jack & Gina
*
Book 6: HOT REBEL - Nick & Victoria
*
Book 7: HOT ICE - Garrett & Grace
*
Book 8: HOT & BOTHERED - Ryan & Emily
*
Book 9: HOT PROTECTOR - Chase & Sophie
*
Book 10: HOT ADDICTION - Dex & Annabelle
*
Book 11: HOT VALOR - Mendez & Kat
*
Book 12: HOT ANGEL - Coming March 13, 2018!
Sign up for Lynn’s Newsletter to be notified!
*
The HOT Novella in Liliana Hart’s MacKenzie Family Series
HOT WITNESS - Jake & Eva
7 Brides for 7 Brothers
MAX (Book 5) - Max & Ellie
7 Brides for 7 Soldiers
WYATT (Book 4) - Max & Ellie
*
About the Author
Lynn Raye Harris is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the HOSTILE OPERATIONS TEAM SERIES of military romances as well as twenty books for Harlequin Presents. A former finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award and the National Readers Choice Award, Lynn lives in Alabama with her handsome former-military husband, two crazy cats, and one spoiled American Saddlebred horse. Lynn’s books have been called “exceptional and emotional,” “intense,” and “sizzling.” Lynn’s books have sold over three million copies worldwide.
To connect with Lynn online:
www.LynnRayeHarris.com
[email protected]
All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
*
HOT SEAL Bride
Copyright © 2018 by Lynn Raye Harris
Cover Design Copyright © 2018 Croco Designs
ISBN: 978-1-941002-29-2
/>
HOT SEAL Bride: HOT SEAL Team - Book 4 Page 23
