Seth (In the Company of Snipers Book 17)

by Irish Winters

  “So Sly killed Gru?” Seth asked around her finger.

  She nodded. “I’d just gotten home after working the morning shift. I heard a squeal, then a strange scream. At first, I thought it was Scottie in the backyard, but when I ran out the door, it was…” Her breath caught. “My poor baby, Gru. Sly was half inside Gru’s cage. He’d stabbed him. Blood was dripping off his right hand and knife. He looked straight at me when I came out my backdoor, and he said... he said: ‘Tonight. Be at my place tonight or else.’”

  “Or else what?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t risk Scottie’s life.”

  “You and Scottie can stay here with me,” blurted out of Seth’s big mouth. He licked his lips, wanting to lick hers. “Uncle George is in good hands. He won’t mind, and I’ve got a spare bedroom. I can easily tend to his business while I help you.”

  She finally looked at him. The tough girl aura she’d projected faded into the soft feminine glow of a woman seeing a real man and possibly a friend, instead of a battered shell. Her eyes grew dark and too big for her face. Her lips pursed, in what he hoped was a prelude to a kiss, not that he’d act on it. But I might...

  Katelynn’s memory lingered, never more than a heartbeat away. He’d never sully the time he had with her, nor the promises they’d made to each other. True love linked lovers forever, and that was what he and Katelynn had had, a forever kind of love. He wouldn’t have proposed marriage for anything less. Only… Devereaux needed his particular kind of expertise. He’d served as a bodyguard to other women on more than a few occasions. He lived to serve, and he very much wanted to serve—Devereaux Shepherd.

  “I won’t do that to you,” she said firmly. “This is my battle. You can’t just ride up on your white stallion and save every damsel in distress. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  What he wouldn’t give if it would—please—just for one day, work like that. “Maybe not, but I can cover your six and make sure this Sly fella doesn’t hurt you or your son.” I can make the bastard pay.

  She shook her head, the tenderest gleam in her eyes. “No, Seth. Leave it alone. I can take care of myself.”

  The moment her lips pursed, Seth’s pulse quickened. Like a sniper’s scope, his vision narrowed in on the single drop of blood on her chin. He wanted to taste it. His head buzzed with temptation. Swallowing hard, he eased away and removed his hand from where it had no business resting. She wasn’t Katelynn.

  “You bit yourself,” he told her softly, angling his head to one side, just in case. It’d been a long time since he’d kissed a woman, too long since he’d enjoyed even contemplating the act. Sure, there’d been the occasional grab-n-go at the local bar after a long day, but nothing and no one he wanted to repeat or think about later.

  Her tongue slid over her bottom lip. “So, I did.”

  Softly, he wiped the offending spot away and squeezed it away between his finger and thumb. “You’d let me do that much for you, wouldn’t you? Help you?” he asked, fighting the hint of hope in his tone. That’d make him sound desperate, which he knew he damned well was, but something about this fragile woman called to the warrior in his soul, to the better man. For the first time in years, Seth second-guessed the logic of having committed the rest of his time on Earth to a woman who no longer breathed. Did his undying devotion to Katelynn’s memory make him noble—or insane?

  “I should tell you to beat it, but…” Devereaux walked her fingertips up his shirt buttons to the hollow of his neck, her eyes on his throat. “I want to kiss you, Seth,” she said, her whisper soft with need. “Now.”

  Chapter Four

  Whoa, what have I done? Devereaux expected to be tossed on his bed and mauled with the pent-up lust simmering in his gaze, but Seth was something else. He closed the distance as if he were approaching a nervous filly. Not once did he rush her, but his mouth…

  The man’s mouth was made for sin and seduction, and she wanted it on her. Firm, moist lips glistened. He probably didn’t know that he’d licked them as if already tasting her, but those simple gestures tantalized. Add to the mix the scruff on his chin, which jutted just enough to make him look determined instead of angry, and her stupid, stupid heart stuttered.

  She’d had enough of angry men in her life. What was it about bad boys that attracted her like a moth to a raging forest fire that could never be tamed no matter how hard or how long she tried? Why did she continually put herself in this predicament?

  His hands came up. Deliberately, he reached for her.

  Devereaux had her fingers on his biceps even as she dropped her lashes, convinced she had a death wish the way she’d come onto a man she’d only just met. Seth McCray must think her no better than one of the many sluts walking the street, willing to spread her legs for any guy who passed by. But he felt too good. So strong. And willing.

  Warm male breath skated across her cheek. “No, Dev,” he whispered, the tip of his nose brushing over the curl of her ear. “This isn’t what you want, and you know it.”

  Squeezing her eyes tight, she expected his tongue to make contact, wishing it would. Instead, he cupped her jaw firmly between both manly palms and tilted her chin up. “Look at me.”

  Shivering from the adrenaline spike that had just hit her system like a freight train, screaming at her to run like hell—as well as the delicious warmth of this guy’s big hands on her jaw and at her throat—she lifted her lashes. Instead of the feral lust she’d expected, she saw the tender gleam of a question in his dark eyes. Maybe worry.

  “I do know that,” she whispered back, immediately contrite for her crazy heart. “I don’t know what came over me.” You big fat liar. What came over you is your standard operating procedure. Your SOP. You trust too much, and you give yourself away too fast, girlfriend. Every time. One of these days, you’re gonna get burned worse than you already have been.

  Dev silenced her inner diva with a mental, This guy’s different. I can tell. He’s… nice.

  You said that last time, but look where you are now, hiding from James, stalked by Sly, but still ready to kiss some guy you just met.

  Shut up.

  Seth cocked his head, eyeing her lips because she’d foolishly run her tongue over the bottom one. “I’m not that guy,” his mouth said, but the way his gaze fastened on her lips, she wasn’t so sure who was lying to who.

  His breath hitched. He blinked. With one swift step, he let go of her and backed away. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice hoarse and tight.

  By then her brain was as worthless as her rubbery legs. “Yes,” she told him decisively. She’d taken chances before. Maybe this night with Seth would work out. Three’s a charm, right?

  He reached for her hand. “Good. Where’s your dinghy? I’ll take you home.”

  Oh. That. Flustered, she put her hand in his and squeezed to hide her embarrassment. What a fool she’d almost made of herself. She’d thought he’d asked if she was ready for sex, when he was merely ready to leave. “By the dock,” she whispered, then forced a stronger tone. “I tied it at Uncle George’s boat ramp.”

  With a curt nod toward the sliding glass door, Seth directed her out of the shack. Stepping on sand again, Devereaux drew in a deep breath of the ocean air while he locked up again. Striving to catch her breath, she stared at the wild ocean. Salt, sand, and freedom were what had brought her to the Keys. Not sex.

  Gulping at the way the night of this damned long day was ending, she brushed a rebellious tear from the corner of her eye. No one knew better how sweet freedom tasted and how hard it had to be fought for than Devereaux. How elusive it was once you made enough mistakes. She hadn’t been free since she’d hooked up on a layover in Denver with her ex-boyfriend, James Brand, a devilishly handsome co-pilot she should’ve avoided like the Black Death.

  One night of sex with him had given her Scottie, but it also brought a migraine load of complications. James came from money. He hadn’t needed to work. All he’d wan
ted was adventure and a way out of his parents’ clutches. They wanted better for him. Not that he cared what they wanted any more than he cared about the child Devereaux carried. Not the high and mighty James Brand.

  Devereaux sighed remembering. After avoiding her calls and dodging her at enough airport lounges, she’d finally caught up with him and told him he was a father. He’d argued, told her to prove the kid was his. When she did just that, he’d mailed her a check for one hundred thousand dollars. Told her to lose the kid, and then they’d talk. The slimy worm.

  Talk nothing. She’d been smart enough not to tear that despicable check to shreds. For now, she’d tucked it in the simple white envelope taped to the underside of her top dresser drawer, safe and protected for the day he changed his mind and came after his son. Not that he ever would, but Devereaux couldn’t take the chance. Sons of parents with money were self-centered, entitled, and unpredictable. She didn’t plan to lose a court battle where influence and wealth could win over truth and motherhood.

  In too few minutes, Seth crouched one knee to the weathered planks of George’s dock as he dropped into her tiny boat. Turning, he extended a hand while the simple craft bobbed beneath his weight. Waves lapped at the timbers mooring the dock with nosy splashes. “Easy now. Step to the center. We don’t want to capsize this thing.”

  That made her smile. “You think I don’t know how to handle my own boat?” she asked as she accepted his fingers and climbed aboard. “I’m the captain here, remember?”

  His face melted into a wide grin. Bathed in moonlight, he looked very much the epitome of a dashing and very handsome white knight. “My bad. I’m not used to women who can take care of themselves,” he said as he released her grip.

  She doubted that. “You didn’t work with any female soldiers?”

  His brows clashed. “Sure, but they’re different.”

  “Do I need to carry a gun to prove I can take care of myself?” Not that I’ve done a very good job at it, but still. I do know how to pilot my own boat—such as it is.

  “No guns,” he said firmly. “You’re the captain, I’m the bodyguard. I carry the gun. You drive.”

  “You have a gun? Where?”

  “Always.” Seth pointed a thumb over one shoulder. “I use a concealment holster at the small of my back. No one needs to know I’m carrying. Now, man the helm. Let’s get underway.”

  That was unusually kind of him to let her handle the brand new, second-hand twenty-five horsepower outboard motor she’d recently purchased. She’d expected Seth to act like a know-it-all and take over all manly duties.

  Dev took her place aft and grasped the tiller handle with confidence. The ocean was the place where she felt the most freedom and most like herself. She could dream out here under the capricious Florida sky, and this fourteen-foot fishing boat gave her that vacation from life every time she asked it to. With Sly bearing down on her, she needed those temporary escapes from reality. They kept her strong and optimistic. Best of all, Scottie loved their time on the ocean as much as she did. That little cutie pie was turning into a capable fisherman, too.

  Shifting the engine into neutral, she inserted the emergency shut-off tab of the safety lanyard into the throttle control unit before turning the ignition key. As expected, her baby purred to life and churned water, bringing a small smile to Seth’s lips. He nodded at her as if he was proud of her or something.

  Devereaux gave him her biggest grin. It felt good to be seen as capable instead of weak. She’d learned a lot since she’d come to the Keys, but boating hadn’t been one of those hard lessons, not at all. She’d always loved the ocean, and someday she’d be able to afford the rent on one of Molly’s secured boathouses. No light-fingered thieves would steal her fishing poles then. She’d finally be someone.

  “Hang on tight,” she told him over her noisy outboard. Hers. Not the bank’s, not Sylvester Valentine’s, nor James Brand’s. This little craft was all hers, bought and paid for, and that was quite an accomplishment for a single mom who worked an exhausting nine-to-five. Who owed her babysitter most of her paycheck. So, yeah. Dev might not be the best judge of men, but she knew a good boat when she saw one, and Bella was proof.

  A chuckle lifted up from her heart at the name she’d given her boat. Bella, after Stephanie Meyer’s damsel in distress, a girl who’d done extraordinarily crazy things, like dying for the love of a vampire.

  Devereaux stole a sideways glance at Seth. He might not be a vampire, but the man had some serious, compelling charm. He wasn’t thick in body or muscle bound like Hollywood portrayed military men. For sure, he wasn’t John Cena or professional wrestling material. But look at him sitting there, facing the wind. His eyes didn’t even water and his chin was up.

  Yeah, Seth McCray liked the sea. She could tell.

  Chapter Five

  The moon lent adequate visibility and the ocean was smooth, but Seth kept an eye out for trouble. The short excursion from his uncle’s island to Key West proved uneventful. Other than the joy glowing on Devereaux’s pretty face, that is. The wind had tousled her short locks, bathing her forehead in moonlight with every wave they crested. She looked happy. Make that radiant.

  Why her happiness meant anything, Seth wasn’t sure. When she throttled down to an idle, the boat slowed as its wake caught up to it, lifting the small craft as it slid alongside a much larger boat on its way to the dock. He hated that this trip to shore was ending. Devereaux needed someone in her corner and he wanted that someone to be him, not whoever this Molly woman was and not Uncle George.

  Yet Seth’s promise to Katelynn had suffocated any hint of caring for Devereaux. They’d made vows to love, honor, and obey to each other. The marriage ceremony they’d never had would’ve been just a formality. That was how strongly they’d loved each other. To the moon and back. Lordy, Lordy, what kind of vow breaker was he?

  Truth was he’d already broken those vows with a few illicit one-nighters. But they were nothing more than scratching an itch. He’d been drunk most days then, out of his mind with grief, and desperately grasping for something—someone—to catch onto in his downward spiral. He honestly didn’t think those women counted.

  Was he still faithful to Katelynn? In his heart, yes. That had never changed and none of those women meant anything. He couldn’t even remember their names or asking in the first place. So, why’d Devereaux matter when those others hadn’t? Better question, why were the vows he’d made with Katelynn in his head now when he hadn’t dreamed of her once since he’d lost her? Latoya Franklin certainly had no trouble nagging him to death.

  Maybe because he hadn’t picked Devereaux up in a bar? Maybe because he wasn’t drunk this time, and he knew precisely what he was doing? Nah. Seth shook those foolish conclusions off, convinced that once he knew Devereaux was home safe, she’d be on her own. He wouldn’t interfere in her life. She didn’t want him to.

  The flashing turquoise and pink neon sign over Molly’s Marina and Pub came into view once they cleared the larger, longer boat, which was actually a yacht, now that Seth could see it better. Long and sleek, its regal prow towered over Devereaux’s tiny fishing boat. She didn’t seem to notice. Deftly she handled the tiller, maneuvering her minnow of a boat into the empty space ahead of the whale of a yacht.

  When she killed the motor, he glanced over his shoulder. Whoever owned that yacht moored behind her had better not run over Devereaux’s boat on his way out to sea. Hers would be hard to see over that pompous prow. Again, it wasn’t Seth’s problem and he knew it. But still. She needed a fifteen-foot antenna posted somewhere on this little boat to announce her presence to the big guys. For that matter—he took serious stock of her bargain-basement conveyance—where was her ship-to-shore radio? A VHF transmitter? A walkie-talkie? The girl had no means of posting a mayday if the weather turned bad on her excursions.

  “We’re here,” she said evenly as the motor cut.

  “This rig licensed?” He had to
know.

  Her brows clenched. “Of course. What do you take me for, a—?”

  “Then where’s your radio?” he challenged, not believing what he was seeing. “Tell me you carry a portable with you every time you and Scottie go fishing. You do, don’t you?”

  Her chin came up and a smirk twisted her right cheek. “Look under your seat, smartass. I keep it locked up, right next to my bilge pump and my cold weather gear. Haven’t needed them yet, but I’m not stupid enough to trust that some jerk walking by on the dock won’t rob me blind.”

  Whew. Seth let out the breath he’d been holding, why, he’d never know. “I never said you were stupid. I was just… concerned.” Concerned enough to bite her head off, this woman he’d intended to tell goodbye and never see again. Good luck. So long. And all those other lies.

  Properly chastised for jumping to conclusions, he cleared his throat and politely asked, “How’d you keep this boat clean when you, umm…?”

  Her bottom lip quivered. She knew what he meant. “I wrapped Gru in a plastic garbage bag, so he wouldn’t bleed all over the place. It was all I had,” she admitted, her tone flat and void of emotion.

  He nodded, his nerves on edge now that he’d made a fool of himself. Scolding women wasn’t his forte, but the image of Devereaux and her son alone on the water without any means of contacting the Coast Guard had made him uncharacteristically—tense. Yeah, that was the right word, certainly not possessive. Lordy, this little boat could sink in a heartbeat out there on the ocean, and no one would ever know.

  None of my business? Bet me.

  Chagrinned, Seth scrambled to secure the line, tying it good and tight while Devereaux tipped the business end of her outboard out of the water, removed the key, and slid its lanyard around her neck. He couldn’t tear his eyeballs away as that shiny brass key disappeared beneath her stained white blouse to nestle—he guessed—between two small, but plump breasts. His cock noticed, too.