Her SEAL Protector

by Jillian Burns

  His stepfather had been right all those years ago.

  Clay was dumber than a rock.

  And about as useful.

  6

  “DID YOU LIKE the movie?” James asked Gabby as they exited the theater and strolled down the crowded sidewalk.

  “Yes.” A nice safe romantic comedy. She doubted either of them could’ve handled anything violent. A horn honked as a car sped past and she flinched.

  It was after eleven at night, but the Manhattan streets still vibrated with yellow cabs and crowds of people hustling to their destinations. Back in her little Texas town, the roads were deserted by ten with the exception of the local sheriff on his nightly patrol.

  James reached for her hand, but Gabby lifted it out of his range to pull the edges of her coat tight around herself. “It’s gotten chilly since we went in, hasn’t it?” She shivered for good measure and then pulled out her phone.

  Earlier this evening he’d taken her hand across her tiny kitchen table, but unlike at the park yesterday, she’d casually pulled it away to offer him more enchiladas. James was a nice guy, she supposed, but tonight he’d started to give off a weird vibe.

  He’d spent the first several minutes after he arrived at her apartment prowling around, touching things. He’d fingered a few of the books she had crammed on makeshift shelves and stacked on her coffee table. He’d lifted to inspect the few knickknacks she’d brought from home and kept on the two side tables, and opened her blinds to peer out her window. Once, she’d thought he might even try to pull back the curtain to her bedroom.

  She was well aware that she had leftover anxiety from the kidnapping. But having James over to her apartment might have been a mistake. It was also possible, however, that she just didn’t trust anyone male anymore. Well, except for—no. It wasn’t fair to compare James to Clay. She had to stop doing that.

  And she had to start living her life in a more meaningful way. But did that mean these vibes she was getting about James were just her psyche’s way of making excuses? She hated not being able to trust her instincts.

  That wasn’t always the case.

  When it had come to going away to college, earning her master’s and then moving to New York, she hadn’t hesitated. Her family had counted on her, and she’d barely given a thought to moving across the country to a new city when it meant being able to help her family.

  But when it came to her personal life, she choked.

  It would be nice to have a boyfriend. Someone special to share every day with. Someone who saw you, and understood you, and cherished you... She turned and stared into James’s eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

  But when she thought about James’s mouth on hers, her stomach tightened.

  Was every guy she tried to date going to have to live up to Clay and that sexy kiss in the jungle?

  “I know a good all-night bakery a couple blocks from here. We can get some coffee and doughnuts.” James broke into her thoughts.

  Good thing he knew the area because she had no clue where they were. The street they’d turned down was less busy. And darker. But she shook off her unease. There were still a few people around. And this was her coworker. A colleague. He, more than anyone else of her acquaintance, knew what it was like to be traumatized. She smiled up at him. “Coffee sounds good.”

  They walked on, turning another corner. Still holding her coat together with one hand, Gabby opened her Twitter page to comment on the movie and stopped midstep.

  Clay Bellamy had started following her? A warm flush traveled up from her chest to her cheeks. He was actually—

  “Gabby? Is everything okay?”

  She stuck her phone in her pocket. “Yeah, I’m sorry, that was rude.” She looked around. “Where are we?”

  They’d taken a cab to get to the movie theater, and she could tell they were way on the other side of the Empire State Building from her apartment in the Village. But even after two years she still hadn’t completely learned her way around Manhattan. She usually went from her apartment to work and back again. How sad. She really did need to get out and explore the city more.

  “—don’t you think?”

  Gabby bit her lip. What had he asked? She hadn’t been listening. “I’m sorry. What were you—?”

  “Give me your purse,” a gruff voice ordered from the other side of her. Then something sharp jabbed into her and she yelped. The mugger wore a black ski mask and Gabby went into full-blown panic attack, reliving the kidnapping. The world wavered and she couldn’t breathe.

  “I said give it!” The mugger tried to snatch her purse off her shoulder, wrenching it away from her. In a flash, James stepped between them, grabbed the mugger’s wrist and twisted, and the knife clattered to the sidewalk.

  Before Gabby even realized it was over, the would-be thief had escaped down the alley.

  Gabby’s mouth dropped open. James had chased away their attacker? He’d risked his life? Defending her?

  “Are you all right?” James was cupping her face.

  She tried to slow her breathing and focus her vision. “Yes.” She managed to nod and move away from his touch. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” He retrieved her purse from the ground and offered it to her.

  “I’ll be okay.” She nodded again, taking the purse.

  “I can call 911, but the guy didn’t get anything. Should we wait for the police?”

  “What could they do now? I think I’d rather go home if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, no problem.” He stepped off the curb and hailed a cab.

  On the ride back to her apartment, Gabby fought her instinct to curl into a ball and tried to make conversation. “How were you able to fight off that mugger? That was so brave.”

  James grinned. “I’ve been taking self-defense lessons.”

  Of course. Hadn’t she meant to do that? No, Clay had promised to teach her. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Had she really thought it would? A pang hit her chest as it always did when she thought of Clay, but she dismissed it. She should look into classes around here.

  James paid the cabbie and didn’t ask him to wait as he walked her to her apartment building’s outer doors. He glanced hopefully up at the windows above before returning his gaze to her. “I had a really good time, Gabby.”

  Even though they’d been mugged? But she didn’t say that. She fished her keys from her purse. Which she still possessed thanks to James. “Thank you for...every—”

  James’s mouth clamped onto hers, cutting her off. She tried to pull away, but his hand held the back of her head in place. Throwing all her strength into it, she shoved him back.

  He stumbled away and she caught a glimpse of fury in his eyes.

  That look scared her.

  Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she turned to unlock the outer door to her building, but her hands shook as she stuck her keys in and he caught her arm. “Hey, I’m really sorry,” he said in a pleading voice. “I guess I got the wrong idea. I thought you liked me, you know, that way.”

  Gabby closed her eyes. She had totally sent him the wrong signals. She couldn’t ever be more than friends with James. She slowly turned to face him. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you, James. I thought I could see if it might work, but I don’t... I don’t feel anything romantic for you. Can we still be friends?”

  His expression morphed from penitent to...nothing. The blankness was somehow scarier than the anger. Then it morphed again to a casual smile. “No problem, I mean, sure, of course.” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. My fault.” He seemed so genial that guilt crawled along her insides and landed with a heavy thud in her chest.

  With an awkward nod she bolted inside, not waiting to see if he left. She hurried up to her ap
artment, locked the dead bolt and latched the chain before she felt safe. She dashed to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash, trying to eradicate the taste of James from her mouth.

  There were no physical marks from the thief’s assault. No visual sign that she’d been mugged. Or almost mugged. But she still thought she might throw up. She reached up to rub her Mary medal, but her hand froze halfway to her neck.

  Oh no.

  Her medal was gone.

  * * *

  IT WAS CHASING HER!

  Sweat dripped into her eyes and she wiped it away as she ran, frantically fighting her way through thick fronds, stumbling, out of breath.

  She could hear it coming for her, crashing through the underbrush. It was getting closer, and her feet were stuck, she couldn’t move!

  Out of nowhere the giant snake jumped out at her, its teeth striking at her, venom dripping from its sharp fangs. She screamed, but no sound came from her mouth. No one would know how she’d died. No one would find her.

  Then Clay dropped from a tree and plunged his knife deep into the snake’s head and it fell to the ground.

  Gabby ran to him and he wrapped his arms around her while she cried and cried. His soft comforting voice, in his slow Southern drawl, told her she was safe now. She could feel his lips on her head, then her cheek, then her mouth...

  Gabby woke up with tears on her face and an ache deep in her core. She squeezed her thighs together, rolled to her stomach and cried into her pillow. The terror subsided, but the aching didn’t. And she hated that. It was stupid and pointless to want a man she would never see again. She sobbed until she was too tired to be frustrated anymore.

  The glow of green numbers on the clock mocked her. Three forty-two. No sense in going back to sleep now. She knew from experience it wouldn’t happen.

  She pulled herself out of bed, padded to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was she ever going to get over this? She frowned and splashed cold water on her face. “Get yourself together, Gabriella Diaz,” she told herself sternly.

  She went to her bedside table and snagged her phone.

  @nerdybankanalyst

  Another nightmare. Wish I could get past this. Thank goodness for online solitaire. :) #monstersarenotreal

  * * *

  AT WORK, SHE headed to the break room for coffee as soon as she exited the elevator. But when her eyes met James’s across the coffee pot, his gaze skittered away and he left without pouring himself a cup. No lunch at the park today, she guessed. She felt guilty and irritated at the same time. Why couldn’t they just be friends? Now her workplace was going to be uncomfortable.

  Eyes stinging, head throbbing, she ignored her sack lunch at noon and laid her cheek down on her folded arms.

  Her little hands were pulling up weeds around the shrine. Papa was on his knees beside her, bent over the flower bed. He turned his head and smiled down at her. “Good job, mi hija.” She was his helper girl. The summer sun blazed down on them, and she could smell the marigolds and tiger lilies on the breeze. Then a shadow fell across her and she looked up—at James.

  She startled awake.

  James was standing in her cubicle.

  She blinked. “James?”

  But he turned and left without saying a word.

  Okay, it was official. She’d been right to be creeped out by him. They weren’t going to be friends.

  By five, she was wiped. But instead of going home she studied a map of Manhattan, and then took a train to the Upper West Side, hoping to have time to look for her medal before it got dark. It’d been yanked off when the mugger grabbed her purse strap, she was sure of it.

  How many movie theaters could there be north of the Empire State Building? After instructing the cabbie to take her to the north end of Central Park West, she took out her phone and searched for theaters in Manhattan, finally deciding to try the one with a name that sounded familiar.

  Once on foot, she followed the route she thought James had taken after leaving the movie and began combing the sidewalk for several blocks, scrutinizing every nook and cranny. She had to find her medal. But anyone could’ve come along and picked it up since last night. She should’ve come here this morning, but with all the weekday traffic, she’d been afraid of being late for work.

  She walked several more blocks, then turned to retrace her steps and thought she caught someone scurrying into a dim alley. As if the person didn’t want to be seen. She shuddered. Had someone been following her? Watching her?

  Come on, Gabby. She huffed and shook her head. Paranoid much?

  Forcing herself to move past the alley she’d thought the man had ducked into, she continued searching the way she’d come, but no luck. Her heart squeezed. She’d worn the medal since she was six. It was her talisman. Her good luck charm. A symbol of her Abuelita’s love.

  Now it was gone.

  Close to tears, she hailed a cab back to her apartment. As she unlocked the door and let herself in, something felt...off. She slowed her step and made her way down the long hall past her bathroom and into the kitchen.

  Around the turn of the twentieth century, her apartment had been three separate hotel rooms with a shared bath down the hall. It was an old building. The wood floors creaked. There was even an old-fashioned transom above the doorway leading into her living room. She turned into her kitchen and, at the small desk in the corner, did a double take. Her laptop was missing. Glancing toward the living room, she lost her breath.

  Chaos. As if an earthquake had struck. Her sofa was cut open, books were flung everywhere, knickknacks shattered. Rounding the corner to her curtained-off bedroom, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The bedding had been shredded, her clothes dumped from the drawers.

  She ran for the door so fast she tripped on the hall rug and fell against the wall. She was hyperventilating again, but didn’t stop until she was down the four flights of stairs and out on the sidewalk. Then she dug in her purse for her cell phone. Her hands shook so hard she had to try three times before punching 911.

  By the time the police arrived she’d calmed enough to lead them upstairs and answer the officer’s questions. He, of course, assumed it was a routine break-in. But...her television was intact. And who would slash open a sofa? What did the thief think she had hidden in there? Yes, her laptop was missing, but Gabby had a persistent nagging feeling she was being targeted. Which was ridiculous enough that she didn’t mention her theory to the policeman.

  After a crime scene unit took pictures and dusted for prints, the officer gave her his card, but didn’t hold out much hope of finding her laptop. Gabby stood in the middle of her living room, hugging herself, rubbing her arms.

  Why was this happening to her? Her job was risk analysis. Statistically, the odds of someone being randomly kidnapped, then mugged and then robbed, all in the space of a month’s time weren’t impossible. Improbable, yes. But not impossible. And what about that man she’d thought might be following her earlier?

  Panic almost overwhelmed her again. But she refused to run. Or succumb to another fit of sobbing. That was how she’d started the day. A more productive way to expend her energy would be to start cleaning up. She scanned the living room. Vacuum the glass, duct-tape the sofa—she’d need a new mattress...

  She stared at the mess and... She couldn’t do it.

  She couldn’t stay here tonight. But where would she go? Before last night, she might have called James, but now...?

  How sad that, of all the people in this city, she had no one with whom she could ask to stay.

  Maybe she should go to a hotel. But they were expensive. Her budget wouldn’t stretch to more than one night unless she sent less money home to her parents. And her savings was for true emergencies.

  All she knew for sure was tha
t the only time since the kidnapping she’d felt truly safe was in the arms of a stranger. The soldier who rescued her. It wasn’t a rational feeling, she knew that. But she felt a connection—a deep, emotional connection to Clay that couldn’t be explained. And he had promised to give her self-defense lessons, hadn’t he?

  “Face it, Gabby.” The lessons were just an excuse. Did she seriously think she could just call him up and ask him to teach her how to protect herself? He’d think she was crazy. She didn’t even know where he was stationed.

  Screw it! She was tired of worrying about why and how and what-ifs. Tired of doing what she should do instead of what she felt like doing. Impulsively, she grabbed her phone and searched for SEAL Team 2... Here was something. US Naval Special Warfare Group 2. Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek, Virginia Beach! Virginia wasn’t that far away. Before she could rethink it, she thumbed the number to call. An automated voice answered and announced that it was after hours and instructed the caller to leave a message at the tone.

  Without speaking, she ended the call. What had she expected on a Friday night? She shook her head. It was a wild idea, anyway.

  Resigned, she pulled the small broom and dustpan out from under the kitchen sink and hunkered down to sweep up broken glass, but...

  The floor blurred as a sense of foreboding crawled below the surface. Like she would go quietly mad if she didn’t bolt out the door this instant. Either that or she’d curl up in the corner and never emerge. She drew in a deep breath. “This is just a mild panic attack. Push through it. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

  No, she needed to get out of here!

  Grabbing her purse, she dashed down the stairs and outside to hail a cab. She told the cabbie to take her to Penn Station, and once there, she got in line for a ticket.

  “Where to?” the old man behind the counter asked.