Hot SEALs: Through Her Eyes

by Delilah Devlin

  She nodded. “Yes, out of my apartment in Austin three days ago.”

  Jackson kept his expression neutral although inside he seethed. “Were you molested? Do you need medical attention?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I need the handcuff gone and for someone to find me some clothes.” Her mouth trembled but her gaze remained level, if still squinting at the light.

  In his ear, he heard Mac. “No bombs, Jax. House is clear.”

  In the next moment, the lights went on in the bedroom.

  Deke came up beside him, staring at the disheveled woman cloaked by a pink satin sheet. The entire room looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie: cream walls and furniture, pale pink carpet and a bedspread patterned with pink roses. Despite her nudity and the suspicion darkening her very blue eyes, she fit the surroundings—opulent, soft pearl skin, hair the color of light honey. Although now, he thought maybe she’d been cuffed straight out of the shower because the sun streaked blonde hair was matted and hadn’t been brushed.

  With her free hand, she pulled the edge of the sheet to just under her chin.

  Knowing he’d stared too long, Jackson cleared his throat. “Before I can approach the bed and unlock those cuffs, I’ll need you to lower the sheet.”

  Her fist tightened. “The hell I will.”

  “Ma’am, you’re in a narco-terrorist’s house. I have to be sure you aren’t wired to blow.”

  “I can assure you, I wouldn’t be this pissed-off if I were.”

  Deke coughed. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Turning his head, Jackson gave him a deadly glare. “Deke, if you could go to the door and give her some privacy…”

  Deke grunted but did as ordered, facing the hallway.

  “It’s just me, now. Lower the sheet.”

  Her lower lip jutted and she drew a deep breath, her gaze locking militantly with his. But she lowered the sheet, slowly, like a tease if she only knew, past perfectly rounded breasts with delicate pink nipples, down a softly rounded belly with a deeply indented waistline.

  “That’s as far as I can reach,” she whispered.

  He raised his weapon and leaned over to tug the sheet off the rest of the way. And even though he knew instantly the pressure plate to a bomb wasn’t hidden beneath her, he couldn’t resist lingering. Her legs were long and rounded but pulled up and to the side.

  He knew he was pushing her, but as a soldier, he was never anything but thorough. Soft got you killed. “I’ll need you to spread your legs, ma’am.”

  Her eyes widened with indignation, but she straightened her legs and then slowly opened them.

  Jackson nearly groaned aloud at the sight of the soft blonde ruff and lovely pink pussy. He slung his weapon behind his back, satisfied she wasn’t booby-trapped or had a weapon hidden. But they had a problem. No one on the team had a key. They’d brought zip ties to restrain any prisoners. “Did you see if they left the key to the handcuffs in the room?”

  She nodded toward the dresser. “Alejandro left it in the ring tray.”

  “Alejandro?” he asked, walking to the dresser. Alejandro was Guzman’s youngest son, and the reason Guzman should have been there, for a celebration announcing his engagement. If this woman had been kidnapped, she couldn’t be the fiancée.

  The key lay in the midst of several pricey rings, encrusted with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. He fished out the key and returned to the bed.

  She’d pulled up the sheet again.

  Not that he’d chastise her. Her pretty body was a distraction he didn’t need. He unlocked her manacle, noted the bruising around her wrist, and heard her sharp gasp as her arm dropped. Before he thought better of it, he reached out and kneaded her shoulder and arm. “It’ll take a few minutes for it to stop tingling.”

  Deke coughed again, and Jackson dropped his hands. “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll let you know once we’re in the air.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, but she pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her, and then left the bed, padding to the closet to remove a long, printed dress and sandals.

  “You don’t have anything sturdier?”

  “Kidnapped, remember?” She shot him a glare. “No jeans or slacks in this closet. This at least covers me.” She strode to the dresser and extracted a lacy bra and panties. “Can I dress in the bathroom?”

  Because he hadn’t had a chance to check the cabinets inside the bathroom, he shook his head. “Dress where you’re standing.”

  Pink entered her cheeks, and, if possible, her chin lifted higher. But rather than dressing awkwardly under the sheet, she dropped it and began to draw on her underwear.

  Jackson kept his expression neutral. Whoever she was, she was strong. And had quite a temper. The mystery of who she was and what she was doing there would have to wait. “Throw some more clothes into a pillowcase if you don’t have a bag.”

  He turned to Deke as she scurried to pack. “Go on down. Have Wiley make contact and get the helo back to the drop site. Let them know we have one prisoner.” A huff sounded behind him, but he didn’t acknowledge it with even a pause. “Make sure the team has finished the search.”

  Deke nodded then cast a glance beyond Jackson. “Commander Martir’s not gonna be happy. He wanted to keep this simple.”

  Jackson shook his head. “She’s my headache.”

  “I’m not anyone’s problem,” the woman said, stepping in front of him with a bulging pillowcase.

  He glanced back at the dresser top. The rings were missing from the tray.

  “They’re mine,” she said, defiance flashing in her eyes. “They’re the least Alejandro owes me.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.”

  “Stop with the ma’am. You’ve already seen me in my birthday suit. My name’s Suri McAnally. Now, are you getting me the hell out of here?”

  SURI WASN’T SURE where the courage came from to bitch at her new captor. The moment she’d heard the stealthy footsteps enter her bedroom, she’d been terrified someone other than Alejandro had returned to molest her. Maybe an hour earlier, she’d known from the sounds of running footsteps and shouts coming from the courtyard followed by tires screeching away, that she’d been left behind to an uncertain fate.

  When Jackson Keller had parted the curtains around the bed, she’d nearly peed herself she’d been so scared. A large dark shadow with the even more ominous outline of a large gun, and she’d been sure she was toast. What had precipitated the evacuation of the estate was a mystery. That she’d been the guest of someone dangerous had been apparent from the moment Alejandro drove her through the guarded gate of the compound past a phalanx of armed guards.

  Although he’d kidnapped her, up to that moment, she hadn’t been afraid. Alejandro was her friend. And as he’d explained on the long drive from the private airport to the estate, he wouldn’t have kidnapped her at all if she’d just agreed to a little deception—a vacation posing as his fiancée to satisfy his father because his dad was suspicious about the fact Alejandro never brought around women or frequented the bordellos in the small town in the valley.

  As she’d discovered, Alejandro’s father wasn’t someone a son could confide in. Telling the imposing man he was gay would likely have ended his life.

  She understood why Alejandro had done what he had. But she’d lived the last few days in a state of heightened anxiety that Diego would learn the truth, and they’d both be shot and fed to the vultures that roosted in the sparse scrubby oaks dotting the hillsides around the compound. Automatic weapons and holstered pistols abounded. Cold, hard gazes followed her everywhere she went.

  Until the lights flickered on, she hadn’t let go of her fear. But one glance at Jackson’s stern expression, his steady stare, and she’d relaxed inside. Something about him made her feel instantly safe. Might have been his large frame or the dark military-style helmet. Might have been the steel-gray
gaze above black-streaked cheeks.

  Didn’t make sense, but then, she’d been operating on instinct for so long, she didn’t question it. That she’d figured out he wasn’t a bigger bad than Diego Guzman didn’t mean she was ready to jump at his every command—just those that made sense. And right now, she agreed with the command to get the hell out of the Guzman family compound. If she never saw Alejandro’s odious father again, it would be too soon. At first sight, he’d given her the exact opposite impression as Jackson Keller.

  And while Diego had been dressed in expensive, but casual, clothing and wore a carefully crafted, urbane facade, he’d made every hair on the back of her neck stand up. When he’d smiled through introductions over a civilized glass of wine, his dark eyes had been cold. Not a hint of emotion. She’d known in an instant she was facing someone who’d kill without blinking, without expression.

  Jackson glanced at her feet, and his jaw tightened.

  The skimpy sandals were the only shoes in the closet without a heel.

  But he didn’t comment. He simply gave the other man a nod and swept a hand to indicate she should follow his buddy.

  They made their way down the hallway to the staircase then out the front door into the waiting darkness.

  “Hold the back of his shirt in case you lose your footing.”

  She reached out and gripped the back of the uniform jacket, then took two steps for every one of the man’s as she followed him through the courtyard and out a side gate.

  The route they chose was rocky, and she had to concentrate hard on the way his body moved to know how to measure her steps. After what seemed an hour but was likely only minutes, they came to a halt on a mesa. She let go of the man’s jacket, flexed her hand, and dropped her pillow case. Enough moonlight broke through the cloud cover to illuminate the area. A dozen men were in the clearing, aiming weapons outward, scanning the nearby peaks. Only Jackson watched her.

  In the distance, she heard the rhythmic whomp-whomp of a helicopter drawing near. But it didn’t settle on the ground. Long rope ladders rolled out, and the team moved quickly to climb up into the belly of the helicopter.

  Suri stared then took a step backward. No way was she climbing, swinging over the rocky ground. She didn’t like heights, hadn’t climbed a ladder higher than one she needed to reach into her upper kitchen cabinet. Her mouth dried, and she took another backward step and bumped into a tall, hard body.

  He didn’t move away. Warm breath brushed her cheek. “You don’t have to climb. They’re dropping a basket for you. Now, move.”

  She shivered at the low growling texture of his voice. The man was a grade-A bastard. But she knew he wasn’t bluffing. She’d seen the movies. Dangling in a basket over a deep canyon was only slightly less terrifying than the thought of climbing the ladder.

  “My pillowcase?” she whispered, hating the fact her voice crackled with nervousness.

  “I’ve got it.” He pressed a hand against her lower back and gently pushed her forward.

  So the growl had been to motivate her. He did care whether she made it safely aboard.

  After all the team was in the helicopter, a basket was dropped on a long steel cable. She stepped toward it, settled into the rescue basket, and allowed Jackson to secure the safety straps. He tucked the pillowcase between her legs then climbed onto the basket, hands holding the ropes, feet balanced on the sides of the apparatus.

  Up they went, the wild wind created by the helicopter’s blades making it impossible for her to look upward and know how much farther she had to go. She stared at Jackson, whose face betrayed no fear as they hovered high over the rocky peaks. But soon, they reached the helicopter’s strut. Jackson stepped onto the strut, accepted a hand from one of the men crowding the door to help, and climbed inside. Then the men pulled the basket over the strut—feet first. For a terrifying moment, her head tilted toward the ground and all she could see were jagged peaks. She let out a scream, glad no one could hear over the sound of the loud engine or the chopping blades. Then she was sliding inside the belly of the aircraft.

  Several men worked to unbuckle her from the cage. She was helped to her feet. With the door to the helo still open and men seated now with legs dangling over the sides or strapped into the benches that lined the cabin front and back, she didn’t feel much more secure. When the helicopter dropped unexpectedly, she let out another scream and grabbed for the man who’d helped her up.

  “Just a little turbulence,” came a muffled shout beside her ear. And she knew who held her. She unfisted her hands from his jacket and leaned away. Jackson’s hands remained on her hips to steady her as she glanced up.

  She could see little of his expression inside the dark cabin. Just the firm set of his mouth, the glistening of his eyes. “I’m okay,” she shouted back.

  Gripping her arm, he urged her into an empty seat between two large men and buckled her in. Only then did he move away to sit on the opposite bench.

  Surrounded by men in black, staring out the open door of the helicopter, she began to shake, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The entire experience was too much. She’d been afraid too long. Tears streaked down her cheeks and dried almost immediately from the wind and dry heat.

  She didn’t know where they were bound, whether they would take her home, and she worried about what might await her back in Austin. She was no longer safe. The fiancée of a drug lord’s son was a target…or possibly bait. And she still wasn’t certain if Jackson and his team meant well. For all she knew, they considered her guilty by association. Would she be taken somewhere to be interrogated? She didn’t know anything other than the fact Alejandro was as much a prisoner as he’d made her into being.

  A hand tapped her thigh. A bottle of water was passed. She shook her head because another worry entered her mind. How long until they landed and she found a restroom? The thought nearly made her laugh. She’d already suffered the humiliation of being found nude by a stranger.

  Her gaze went to Jackson who stared across the expanse at her. That she’d irritated him was clear. That he hadn’t been pleased she was all his team found at the compound had to be disappointing. But what had he been thinking when he’d slowly examined her naked form? Had he just been looking for weapons or bombs, or had he lingered because he’d liked what he’d seen?

  Why the answer to those questions mattered, she didn’t know, and she shouldn’t have cared, but she was intensely curious about him.

  What did he look like under all that camouflage paint and military gear? Was he handsome? Was he married?

  She glanced away and let out a breath, troubled that her mind wandered down that path. The last thing she needed was to obsess over her new captor. She needed to get home and contact the school to see whether she still had a job. As a brand new teacher, she could be easily fired for an unexplained absence, and positions were hard to find.

  She sighed, suddenly calm, maybe too overwhelmed with a thousand worries to think any longer. Instead, she rested her gaze on Jackson and leaned to the side, not caring she was using a stranger’s hard shoulder as a pillow.

  Right now, she didn’t have to be strong or smart. Right now, she should rest her mind and body. Looking across at Jackson’s narrowed gaze, she had the feeling she’d need it.

  About Delilah Devlin

  Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred forty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

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