The Omega Team: SEAL Escort (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Uncharted SEALs Book 12)

by Delilah Devlin

  He sat foreword in his seat. “Did he hurt you?”

  A blush crept across her cheeks, and she hated the fact she’d let him see her vulnerability. “A slightly fractured skull,” she said, keeping her tone matter-of-fact while her grip tightened on her drink. “I’m healed. The brain bleed’s gone. So, this trip isn’t some publicity snit.”

  “Are you expecting trouble this weekend?”

  “No, but the event is my first public outing since…the incident. I want to be seen. I want you seen. Will you have problems with that?”

  He sat silent for a moment, then… “I really have to wear this shit?” he said, gazing down at the tie he fingered.

  To kill a grin, she pressed her lips together. “Some of it. If you’re at ease in your own skin, you can wear nothing at all,” she said, giving his body a long once-over. “No one will bat an eye. Virgil likes his guests to be…comfortable.”

  Chapter Two

  The first part of the flight was made in near silence.

  Snake nursed his Fuji water while Cat downed the rest of her mojito before tilting back her chair and taking a nap.

  Which gave him plenty of time to mull over what she’d said—as well as ogle her stellar figure. He didn’t feel guilty. She’d invited his scrutiny. She wore a skimpy sundress in the same blue as the background of his tie. Thin straps held up the bodice and tied behind her neck. Her full breasts pressed against the fabric, displaying their nicely rounded and plump contours. Her sleek shoulders were bare and shimmered from some kind of lotion, he was sure. His palms itched as he imagined cupping each side of her shoulders and running his hands down her pale arms. The hem of her skirt hit mid-thigh, exposing those amazing legs, now crossed. A silver sandal dangled from her foot. Her toes were painted a pretty light pink, which horndog that he was, made him wonder whether they matched the color of any other parts of her anatomy. Restless now, and feeling a little like he was taking advantage, he glanced away.

  In their brief conversation, she’d managed to change his opinion of her. Yes, he still thought she was a spoiled little rich girl with more money than good sense—just look at who she’d dated—but she was a prime example of how money couldn’t by happiness.

  While describing her issue with Parault in very succinct terms, she’d looked haunted. The man had beaten her. Crushed her fucking skull. Outrage boiled in his belly at the thought of the asshole battering her. But admiration for her also grew. Although scared, she’d taken responsible actions. He couldn’t fault her logic for the weekend she’d use to begin repairing an image that might be a little tarnished after news of Parault’s abuse became public. Good-time girls didn’t peddle their problems and remain social and fashion icons. Or so, he supposed.

  He raked a hand through his hair. What did he know about her world or the million people who followed her on Instagram? He’d thought her account was ridiculous. That the application itself was ridiculous. Who put themselves out there like that? For money, she’d surrendered her right to privacy.

  Snake hadn’t missed the many endorsements she posted for makeup, hair products, skin creams, and clothing. Recently, she’d even launched her own line of handbags—no doubt basking in sales for the pricey totes, cross-body bags, and clutches. And yes, he knew what those accessories were because he’d read her descriptions. In addition, he’d rather enjoyed the live-action sales pitches, because she’d most often been dressed in a skimpy bikini on a beach. Her long, curved frame would make any straight man salivate. As well, he’d enjoyed her delivery, likely skillful acting, that depicted a joyful, carefree happiness he envied.

  Hell, if buying a pretty pink bag to hold all of his “essentials” would make him that happy, he might be tempted to spring for the “affordable” bags that went for between three hundred and twenty-five hundred dollars apiece.

  The thought made him smile, because he could imagine Lyle’s giddiness if Snake was to make the admission aloud.

  “You should do that more often.”

  Snake darted a glance at the smiling blonde across from him.

  “Although, I do have to admit ‘mad’ looks sexy on you.”

  He grunted. “Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking?”

  “Of course not. If I said that, we’d be headed straight to the bedroom in the back.”

  His grip on the water bottle tightened. He wasn’t sure whether she teased him or was serious. Didn’t matter to his dick. The slow thud of his heart echoed in the pulse in his groin, causing him not a little discomfort in his too well-tailored pants. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and grimaced. “You shouldn’t say things like that to a man.”

  “Guess not.” A grin stretched slowly across her lush mouth. “Anyway, you’re my weekend boyfriend. Act like it. Stay close. Look fierce when anyone else flirts. Rub sunscreen on my back…or wherever it needs to be.”

  Glaring, he shook his head. “Is this your usual M.O.? Hiring dates to put on a performance?”

  “No,” she said simply. “I’m taking a page out of my friend Harper’s book. Her vacay-boyfriend’s ten years younger than she is and a model for Abercrombie. They’ll likely screw on the beach for the cameras. Like I said, no one on the island will care what we do.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out her iPhone. Then she stood and skirted the table, coming up beside him, and slid gracefully onto his lap. She tossed back her hair and held out her phone. “Smile for the camera.”

  He glared into the screen that reflected back their images. Her smile was wicked. So was the glint in her eye. He looked like someone had run over his favorite dog on purpose.

  Her thumb tapped the screen, and the camera clicked. “You have got to do better than that.”

  A surge of competiveness spiked inside him. His blood pounded in his ears because of the warm woman who’d invaded his personal space. If the first shot hadn’t been exactly what she’d wanted, he didn’t particularly care. The next would suit his mood and needs. He reached out, took her phone, and hit the camera icon. “Let me.” Then he gave her a hard smile, gripped the back of her hair, and kissed her.

  Click.

  Forgotten was the phone as her supple mouth moved against his. Her plump mouth sucked against his, deepening the seal. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the impulse.

  His fist tightened in her hair. His arm drew her closer. That’s when he figured out she wasn’t wearing a bra, even one of those useless strapless things, because her nipples poked through the thin, silky material covering her breasts. He inhaled sharply, because he could feel their soft scrape as she pushed them against his shirt.

  No way could she miss the fact his cock had hardened. She sat right on top of it.

  “Give it to me,” she whispered.

  Shock stilled his movements. Was she asking for what was nudging her backside?

  “The phone…”

  “Oh, yeah,” he muttered and laid it on her palm.

  She nestled against him, framed his chin with slender fingers and angled his head toward the phone. Before she hit the screen button, he knew what anyone would see in the images of their faces—both flushed, their pupils dilated. They’d see lust.

  In mid-afternoon, they deplaned onto a tiny airstrip. The sunlight was fierce. He slid on the black shades Lyle had said made him look like a gigolo. He didn’t care. That was his role. Now, he wasn’t the least bit reluctant to begin the act. The kiss had sealed his fate.

  He followed her down the steps to the carpet the crew had rolled out. A golf cart chugged forward, driven by a spritely, white-haired man wearing a god-awful Hawaiian shirt and an overly exuberant smile.

  “Welcome,” he called out, stepping from the cart to give Cat a hug that went on and on as they swayed side to side. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it,” he said, arching a bushy salt-and-pepper brow.

  She smiled. “Do you think I’d miss your little get-together? I’m thrilled to be here, Virgil.”

  Virgil Preston. Snake blin
ked, realizing he was about to greet a reclusive billionaire, famous for hosting presidents and pop stars.

  Virgil looked over his shoulder at Snake, and his canny gaze swept him once. He drew back from Cat and held her at arm’s length. “Now, tell me why you brought a bodyguard to my island. My security is impeccable.”

  “Virgil.” Cat shook her head and smiled. “Don’t mope. He’s more than just muscle. His kisses are divine.”

  Snake felt heat creep up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and stepped closer, sliding an arm around Cat’s slender waist. “I’m Snake.”

  Virgil’s gaze darted toward his crotch, and an eyebrow crept upward. “Named for…”

  Throwing back her head, Cat laughed. “Stop! You’re embarrassing him.”

  “How did you two meet?” Virgil asked.

  By his narrowed glance, Virgil wasn’t buying their cover.

  “Well, you know I’m a sponsor for Soldier’s Sanctuary. Snake was working an event—he’s an ex-SEAL.” She patted his bicep and his belly, drawing deliberate attention to both. “Do you really have to wonder at our immediate attraction?”

  Virgil pursed his lips and dipped his chin. “Snake, you are of course welcome.” His gaze shot back to Cat. “Harper will be absolutely green.”

  Annoyed because he was feeling like a piece of meat, Snake squeezed Cat’s waist.

  “Let’s not stand out in this sun.” Cat fanned her face.

  Virgil waved toward the cart. “We’re only five minutes away from the big house.”

  “Has Harper already arrived?”

  “No, dear. She would have had to rise before noon to be here this early. She’ll come in later this evening.”

  “And the others?”

  Virgil glanced at Snake then gave Cat a tight smile. “Margie and Elena arrived yesterday. They’re out on the boat, but they promised to be back before dinner. The Fosters are on also on the boat. We may have more coming tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow.”

  The trio climbed into the cart. Snake crawled into the small back seat next to their luggage as Cat sat beside Virgil. Just as well. He wasn’t sure he liked Virgil Preston. He seemed like just another snobby rich man who didn’t have a clue how the rest of the world lived.

  Instead of straining to hear what the two in front of him were saying, he studied his surroundings. A professional habit he didn’t think he’d ever be able to turn off. From the airstrip, the cart followed a graveled trail through dense brush and trees. Every now and then, he spotted small shiny disks hidden in the trees, cameras no doubt.

  As they entered a large clearing, he sat back in his seat. The “big house” was a mansion, two stories tall, but which stretched along the beach with a large wraparound porch with multiple doorways, and one massive navy-painted double-door at the central main entrance. The house was constructed of mortar-less, pale gray stone. An iron railing surrounded the second-floor balcony, and the roof was a blue-gray metal. Flower beds with a profusion of multi-colored blooms, hundreds of them rose bushes—the only flowers he recognized—filled the areas between the flagstone paths leading down toward the beach.

  Workers were everywhere. Gardeners weeding flower beds. Cabana boys cleaning off the tables and setting out chaise lounges along the beach. Guards who patrolled in shorts and polo shirts, weapons holstered at their sides.

  The island had appeared tiny from the air, so he wondered where the workers were housed or whether they arrived by boat from the larger island a few miles to the north.

  “I only prepared one room,” Virgil was saying.

  Which caught Snake’s attention.

  “Stop teasing. One will be plenty.” Cat tossed a quick smile over her shoulder.

  So, they’d be sharing a room. He wondered if more than one bed occupied the space. And now, he couldn’t stop thinking about what sleeping beside Cat might be like.

  “There’s time to swim before dinner, if you’d like…” Virgil said.

  “That sounds lovely. Will you join us?”

  “No, I may still have others to greet as they arrive and dinner preparations to oversee. I don’t like leaving those functions to staff.”

  Cat leaned toward Virgil and gave him kisses on both cheeks just as “staff” hurried down the steps to begin unloading their bags.

  Twenty minutes later, Cat flung open the French doors of their suite. She stood framed in the sunlight. Only two narrow strips of fabric, one climbing her ass, the other cutting across her back marred the sight of her supple flesh. Inside the room, maids scurried behind them, unpacking their clothing and toiletries.

  Snake was warming to his assignment—to the accommodations and the woman. Their rooms were opulent, designed to surround them in comfort and elegance. The woman didn’t appear overly awed, just happy. As she’d proven when she ran to the large rice bed dominating the room, running up the stepstool and jumping into the soft center. When she’d fallen backward, arms spread wide, she’d sighed. “This is bliss!”

  The sight she presented was a lot of things. Maybe, blissful. But certainly tempting.

  His present predicament? His swimming suit was black and as form-fitting as any pair of briefs he’d ever worn, which meant his package was perfectly displayed. As he followed her down the tree-lined pathway to the sandy beach, he hoped like hell the water was cold.

  Chapter Three

  Giddiness bubbled through Cat’s body. She’d made the right choice, accepting Virgil’s invitation. The island offered so much: freedom from worry over her problems, the chance to unwind and think about her future, and possibly, a naughty interlude with her hulking protector.

  Maybe he was getting over whatever had bothered him when they’d first met. When she’d flung herself onto the soft mattress, she’d caught him watching, his eyes darkening. His attention had appeared riveted—on her.

  She’d hired protection before when she traveled internationally, and they had all been watchful, but his attitude was different. Heat had smoldered in Snake’s eyes. A tension present in his body that she’d responded to naturally, automatically.

  When she’d come out of the bathroom wearing her bikini, she’d been quick to head to the doors, because she hadn’t wanted him to notice her erect nipples—and not from the chill of the air-conditioned air. Since she’d met him, he consumed her thoughts and aroused her body and mind.

  Even now, knowing he shadowed her steps warmed her body. Even thought the sun reflected off the white sand, her thoughts went to the coming darkness. Would he sleep beside her on the big mattress, or insist on taking the sofa? If he did lie down beside her, would he roll toward her, or would she have to make the first move?

  If they shared the bed, she had no doubts they’d be lovers before morning. And she wasn’t worried about that. Didn’t feel any hesitation. One glimpse of him as he’d stood in his swim suit, his hands curled on his hips, had tipped the scale toward certainty that she wanted him.

  She’d thought him a little lanky in his business suit. But with his chest, arms, and legs bared, he seemed somehow even more muscular. And she did have a thing for well-built, powerful men. However, she had no concerns over the evidence of his superior strength. Snake, despite his earlier irritation, radiated self-control.

  As they drew closer to the water, she turned, dancing backward. “Would you like to swim? I’m told we don’t have to be concerned about an undertow.”

  One eyebrow crooked. “Can you even swim?”

  She grinned at his drawling tone. “Would I ask if I couldn’t?”

  Although slow in coming, he did return her smile. “Would be nice to get a little bit of a workout. I usually train every day.”

  Her eyebrows jogged up and down. “I can tell.”

  Shaking his head, Snake gave a sexy grimace.

  No doubt he was all too aware of how well his suit displayed his fine “assets.” She forced herself not to take another downward peek. So, they both had issues with arousal. She laughed and turned toward th
e gently rolling surf. Not letting herself dwell on how quickly she’d accepted they would become lovers. For once, she’d go with her gut. Right now, every instinct told her she’d be safe. That something erupted between them she’d never felt before, and she wanted more than anything to discover what that spark was. “I’ll race you to the breakers,” she called over her shoulder then plunged into the water.

  He let her win. Another plus in her book. Although the look on his face when she finally halted her forward momentum indicated he was surprised by her skills. “Wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, huh?”

  “You’re a strong swimmer.”

  She tilted her head and almost quipped she’d had the best training money could buy but didn’t want to remind him of their differences. Instead, she floated on her back, enjoying the sensation of the warm, buoyant water against her skin and the taste of salt on her lips. “I love the water. Pool, sea. I hate rivers and lakes, though. You never know what kind of amoebas are floating there.”

  “Beaches have nasty amoebas, too.”

  “Well, Virgil wouldn’t allow it here. I’m pretty sure we’re safe,” she said, flashing him a sideways glance.

  He treaded water beside her. His gaze swept her, lingering over her taut nipples.

  “Not fair,” she murmured.

  “Sorry.” His gaze swung to hers. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you are a beautiful woman.”

  His gruff tone told her he didn’t give away compliments easily, which made her feel special. “Not what I meant. It’s not fair I can’t look, too.”

  He grunted, but the sparkle in his eye proved he wasn’t offended by her forwardness.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I know. I’m doing it again. Probably breaking some rule about not flirting with—”

  “The help?” His lips pursed. “Yeah.”

  “But I don’t see you as that.”

  He arched a sexy brow. “Because we’re pretending to be involved?”

  “Because I’m attracted. Not pretending.” His gaze flitted over her body again. When it returned to his face, heat flared in his blue depths.