Cowboy (SEAL Team Alpha Book 3)

by Zoe Dawson

  How could she be that naïve? She’d learned the hard way that people pretty much saw she was a freak and steered clear. But she answered to no one but herself and didn’t really feel like opening herself to ridicule. That’s why she was shocked that she had agreed to this damn reunion. But her years of isolation and the need to fit in even after ten years compelled her.

  “Did you close the deal?” Sally Jean asked.

  Kia let out a snort and reached for a bottle of Jack. Pouring it and the Coke into a glass, she served it with a lime wedge. “What deal would that be?”

  “Okay, really? You have to be blind and dead not to want rodeo over there. Did you see that man?”

  “I don’t think he has any kind of deal with me, and my sex life isn’t really up for discussion. He has different priorities.” She uncapped a Corona and added the bottle to Sally Jean’s tray.

  “He has a dick, Kia,” she said wryly, sticking a lime into the open lip. “Trust me, getting laid is a priority.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Kia said thinking about getting naked with Wes, reaching for a bottle of Jose Cuervo, pouring three shots. She grabbed the ingredients for a margarita. Not like she hadn’t had that fantasy in…yeah…forever, but he was putting the brakes on, and she wasn’t going to push. She had her own life to worry about. Except his offer to walk her to her car did melt her bones. She hit the blend button on her blender and gave it a few twirls with ice, then set the drink on the tray.

  “Okay. Fine,” Sally Jean conceded and Kia was relieved. Opening two more bottles, she set them on the tray as well. She didn’t want to get into an argument with her employee over her love life. Or, apparently, her lack of one. She hadn’t missed the way Wes had given her the once over. She was sure he was thinking about the fishnet. All men thought about fishnet when a woman was encased in it from head to toe. This little number happened to be crotchless, too, but fat lot that would do if she couldn’t get him interested. Case in point, his offer to walk her to her car like a little old lady.

  Sally Jean picked up her drink-laden tray and balanced it on one hand, unable to stop from giving Kia a sad look.

  “Thanks for the girl talk,” Kia said with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Then she leveled a look at Sally Jean as she cleared dirty glasses off the bar. “Get those orders out before I fire you for being much too concerned about me.”

  “Sure, sure,” Sally Jean said with a smirk, not at all fazed by Kia’s words.

  When she saw Wes leave the bar through the back, disappointment crowded her and she spent the next few hours handling the bar, delivering drinks to the increasing deluge of customers flowing into The Back Forty.

  Before long, the place was absolutely packed, the crush of people in the bar got thicker, the music amplified to a throbbing beat, and the crowd grew loud and boisterous from too much liquor and a whole lot of fun.

  As the bar started to empty near closing time, Kia groaned. Exhaustion was settling in after working two shifts in one day, but with a man short she’d had no choice. Her employees had pitched in and had done such a bang-up job of cleaning up, for which she was eternally grateful. She just cashed out and called it a night. It was one-forty-five, and lost in her haze of fatigue, simply headed for the back door.

  She rolled her shoulders as she stepped through then closed and locked the door.

  When she turned, she was faced with a man in a black ski mask. She jumped back, as he swiped at her, something glinting in the glow from the moon. A burning sensation erupted from her lower abdomen to her belly button and she gasped at the cold, strange discomfort. He advanced, backhanding her across the face. Pain exploded out from her cheek and jaw. The man rushed her, and she was again completely vulnerable. She growled in anger and hit him a solid blow upside the head with her bag, knocking him back a couple of paces, thwarting him again, swinging her bag like a club. But he ducked, and she desperately used her bag to deflect his thrust toward her heart. She wasn’t going to hold him off indefinitely. He was stronger than she was and so damn fast. But suddenly something huge hit her attacker and the two figures grappled. It was Wes and without much effort, he disarmed the guy, the knife clattering to the pavement. Punches were thrown and many blocks, kicks and general mayhem. Two powerful men locked in combat.

  She tried to reach into her bag for her phone but felt weak all of a sudden. The burning sensation got worse. She reached down to cup her stomach and when she felt something wet, lifted her hand to her eyes.

  It was covered in blood.

  4

  “Wes,” she said softly, even as the two men moved so quickly they were a blur to her. The man countering Wes’s moves was a match for him. That was important but she couldn’t hold onto her thought, her fear for Wes acute. She clutched her side, the blood still flowing, her back against the wall for support. Finally, Wes got in a good blow and the guy sailed back and slammed against the wall. “Wes!” she called out again. He froze, turned toward her and the guy who had attacked her rabbited away.

  Wes rushed over.

  “Christ,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry, he got away.”

  “Fuck him. You’re bleeding.”

  Without a word, he parted her jacket, getting all handsy with her.

  “Aw, darlin’ he caught you good. He reached for the opening of his shirt and with one pull had the snaps popped and before she knew what was happening, he was pressing the cloth against her wound. “Hold that there, tight.”

  She closed her eyes, then opened them. Nope still the amazing, gorgeous sight of Wes McGraw half-naked. She just stared at him, feeling woozy. “I’m feeling lightheaded, and I’m not sure if it’s blood loss or you.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Really?” She reached out and bumped her index finger over the heavy muscles of his abdomen. Kia didn’t have impulse control problems at all, but faced with that body, who could blame her? “Damn, Wes. Like wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a body like that. Well, except in those male fitness magazines.”

  She took in the hard, chiseled cut of his jaw and beautiful mouth that she wanted to kiss. She’d like to see him smile more, not right now because that would be creepy. But like he did when she’d first met him, making all the girls in school swoon just waiting for him to work it in their direction, including her. She hadn’t seen that sexy smile since his father had passed.

  At this point, Wes was all about getting her help. It was in his body language. His focus was to stop the bleeding. He watched her, his seductive whiskey eyes intense and searching, as if he was trying to figure her out, who she was beyond the leather and fishnet, body piercings and purple streaked hair…and what she was hiding from.

  In that moment, she felt a sudden shift between them. Her pulse leapt, and she realized she didn’t like being on the receiving end of such an analyzing stare. For as much as she loved observing and scrutinizing people to get a clue how she should act, she’d also used her freakiness to shield her own emotions and soul-deep pain.

  She’d always felt safe behind her computer, always peeking in on other people’s lives and feelings, but keeping her own hidden away. She’d never felt threatened that someone might realize her ploy, and that Wes might have that ability made her feel too vulnerable. Because her scars were on the inside, buried deep, and she had no desire to allow anyone close enough to unearth them. As a result, her relationships had always been short-lived, with her ending things before they got too serious. Before she gave her heart and opened herself up to the possible loss and rejection, she swore she’d never give up her personal power.

  She realized that Wes had that power, and it was a realization that shook her to the very core of her being.

  She’d had three boyfriends in ten years. One had been a biker, and she had really liked him. He thought she was cool, accepted her for who she was, but there was no spark there to keep the relationship from petering out. Then she’d met a cop in Corpus Christi, and he’d been serious and sweet,
but it was clear he wanted her as an undercover girlfriend. She believed he was the one who wasn’t comfortable with who he was more than he was embarrassed by her. Then she met a gamer online, and he’d been a blast. She’d flown back and forth to Georgia for a couple of years, but with him it was about the sex and the sheer joy of his just as quirky personality. He broke it off when he met a woman he wanted to pursue for real. She’d been single now for three years.

  She closed her eyes. Man, did he smell good. So damn good. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and breathe deep. Once, when she was standing in line behind him in high school waiting to get into an assembly, the scent of him had stuck with her all day. The cut started to sting and his shirt was soaking up a lot of blood. Her knees buckled a little.

  He caught her against him, then bent those powerful legs and slipped his arm under her knees. Lifting her like she weighed nothing, he headed toward his truck. “Enough talk, darlin’.”

  He did smell good, the heat of his chest pressed against her arm, the smooth feel of his skin registering. She let her head fall against his shoulder, bringing the scent of him deep into her lungs. He leaned against the truck supporting her while he dug in his pocket for his keys, unlocked the door and tucked her inside. When he came around the driver’s side and slipped in, he urged her to lie down with her head in his lap. “Elevate your legs,” he said.

  She was feeling queasy. “Press it tight,” he growled, his big hand covering hers, his forearm right between her breasts. My, God, every time the man talked, the smooth, deep sound of his velvet voice went right to the core of her and made her swoon.

  “I’m so tired,” she whispered. As her hand slackened, his pressed down.

  “You’re going to be all right. I’m going to get you to the emergency room. Hang in there.”

  Her head pounding, her stomach protesting, she so didn’t want to throw up. That would be mortifying.

  “Kia?” He shook her. “Stay with me darlin’.”

  She opened her eyes and tried to focus on him, but she was so tired. She felt cold and she couldn’t seem to regulate her breathing, her heart pounding. The dizziness got worse.

  She didn’t want to die here and never tell him how she felt all these years. “I had a crush on you all this time,” she whispered.

  When she opened her eyes, he looked so calm as if he raced through the night with a bleeding, semi-conscious woman in his truck on a regular basis. He was such a rock, so solid. Wes was the epitome of conventional—hard working, capable. He was the description of a cowboy from the deep whiskey of his eyes to the tips of his worn cowboy boots.

  She was so different, isolated, not part of a team, different in her thoughts and dreams. The odd woman out. She wondered if he’d heard her at all.

  When he pulled up at the hospital, he left his truck right there. By this time, Kia was really feeling awful. He came around and gathered her against him and moved briskly toward the sliding emergency doors. When he came inside, a nurse looked up and said. “Sir, you can’t come in here without a shirt.”

  “My shirt is busy right now and this pretty thing needs medical attention. She’s been cut.” The nurse might have had the same malady Kia had when she was faced with a half-naked Wes. She just stared at him. “Now,” he ordered, and she moved.

  “Bring her this way.”

  “I think she’s in shock,” he said, but she heard it as if through a pipe, his voice indistinct and far away.

  “Lay her here,” another voice said, but she couldn’t make out the face.

  “What happened?”

  “She was mugged and some guy cut her from just above her hip to just below her belly button. The guy got away. I brought her here.”

  “How long has it been?” a male voice asked, and Kia tried to turn her head. Her hand stung, then subsided.

  “Twenty minutes. I timed it.”

  “Jo call the sheriff, and sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  Fear surged in Kia so hard she almost choked on it. “Wes,” Kia called out reaching for him, frightened with these strangers, even though they were medical professionals. If it hadn’t been for him…if he hadn’t been there, ignored her independent woman’s nature, she’d be dead.

  “I’m not going anywhere and you’re wasting time here,” Wes growled.

  “Get this man some scrubs,” someone ordered.

  He clasped her hand. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Hang in there. You’re safe.”

  She closed her eyes, the comfort of his hand meant so much. No one had ever held her hand. She drifted off, but he kept his fingers tight around hers.

  For the first time in her life someone had saved her. Really saved her and of all the things she’d always wanted to feel, security was at the top of her list. That’s what this feeling was that was radiating through her at his touch. Safety.

  Wes would protect her.

  Cowboy had been pressured to move further back now that Kia was sedated. He was still bare-chested as none of the scrubs could fit over his broad shoulders. His arms were folded across his chest as he watched every move they made, his gut tight. Christ. If he hadn’t been impatient to see her again and had waited until two, she wouldn’t be here. There was no doubt the guy was trying to kill her. If he had been closer…he closed his eyes. Rage flowed through him, and he wanted to kill the bastard who’d dared to attack a defenseless woman in a dark alley. He felt physically ill when he’d seen all that blood and realized that her smooth, creamy flesh had been cut. His rage boiled over into a white-hot violence, and it took everything in him not to slam his fist against the wall in fury and frustration.

  Kia was in trouble. That guy wasn’t a run-of-the-mill mugger. He had serious moves and Cowboy knew an elite fighter when he came up against one.

  Finally, the ER doctor pulled off his gloves and walked over to him. “Your friend is very lucky. The knife only sunk into the first layer of skin. I put in a couple of stitches so it’ll scar less. I’ll give you a box of waterproof bandages. The scrape part of the cut doesn’t need a covering and should heal very quickly, but keep the stitched part covered. It’s a superficial wound and she had some blood loss, but nothing significant. No organ or muscle damage. Once we get some fluids into her, she can go home.

  “Thanks,” Cowboy said.

  A man in a tan uniform materialized at the door. He gave Cowboy a once over, then said, “Wes? My God, I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

  “Uncle Jerry, how have you been?”

  “Can’t complain, but I don’t like this business at all. How is she?” Jerry Jones had been Wes’s dad’s best friend and at the time of his father’s death, a deputy. He along with the others who had responded to his mom’s call had been tight-lipped and white-faced in the wake of his dad’s suicide. Jerry was a good man, and he seemed not only devastated by his dad’s death, but guilt-ridden as well. He kept saying he should have seen the signs.

  “Kia is a trooper and the wound is superficial, but they sedated her. “

  “All right. I’ll get a statement from her when she’s more aware. What can you tell me?”

  Cowboy gave Jerry the breakdown of what he saw, but he couldn’t identify the guy except that he was about six feet tall. He had on a ski mask and dark clothing. That was it. Not much to go on.

  Jerry hooked his fingers into his belt. “Hmm, my deputies responded to a break-in call from her last week. I’ll send a patrol around her house to start. “But this is a small town and our manpower is always stretched thin this time of year. But we’ll do what we can to keep her safe.”

  Cowboy wasn’t impressed, but he got it. The local cops were going to do their best, but where Kia was concerned that wasn’t going to be enough.

  Not for him.

  He waited some more once Kia came around, but he didn’t go far. He stood within eyesight of her. She kept looking at him with bruised, faraway eyes which only pissed him off some more. He wanted that warm, bright Kia back, the one he’d
had dinner with, the one he’d danced with. Jerry was gentle and the consummate lawman asking her all the right questions. His competence made Cowboy feel much better, but once again memories of his dad surfaced. Fishing trips, hanging around the station, cattle drives, and just plain fun trail riding. He’d cut off any contact with Jerry as he had with everyone associated with his old life. His mom and sister only got cursory reports and short visits from him. They had often made the trip to San Diego to see him. It was the only reason he’d gotten the apartment, or he would have stayed in the bachelor barracks on base.

  He kept his eyes trained on her, the smudged eye makeup, her neat ponytail now in disarray, the ragged edges of the fishnet where the mugger had swiped at her, the bandage on her abdomen. But his eyes turned from assessing to caressing as he took in the belly button ring—another iron cross, the flatness of her midriff, the soft, creamy look to her skin. The jacket had hidden a lot but with it off her, the fishnet covered her from her sweet, delicate shoulders all the way down to her toes. His mouth went dry, and he shifted. Damn his freaking libido. He shouldn’t be ogling her after she’d been through so much tonight.

  It was time to get her home, and they both needed sleep.

  Jerry shook her hand, then squeezed her shoulder, leaning down to say what Cowboy was sure were encouraging words. Afterwards he came over to him. “Not much to go on, but we’ll get on this. Are you going to stay with her tonight?”

  “Yes,” Cowboy said, the one word coming out strong and firm.

  “All right, then. I’m afraid we’re going to have to take your shirt as evidence, but I see you have nothing to be ashamed of there.”

  For the first time in a long time Cowboy smiled. “You have your dad’s build,” he said absently, his tone indicating not only how much he missed Cowboy’s dad, but pure regret and some measure of guilt in his tone.

  Uncomfortable with the mirror of his own emotions, Cowboy said, “Let me know if you find anything. I’d like to have a word with this son of a bitch.”