Cowboy (SEAL Team Alpha Book 3)

by Zoe Dawson

  “Immerse it and move it around with your fingers.” She rose and went to stand next to him. His hands were big and strong. She would have thought it would have been difficult for such a virile man to manage it. “Easy.” She slipped her thumb between his closed fist, caressing his palm. “Don’t grasp it.”

  She ducked under his arm and set her hands over the backs of his, her spine and butt curled against his chest and groin, the pain meds were mellowing her out and her need to be close to Wes was just too overwhelming to feign. “Gently, so you don’t break off any of the studs.” He slowed his movement, and she closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath and let it out real slow, trying her best to ignore the erotic thoughts drifting through her mind. Another long, slow breath as she relaxed and enjoyed touching him, those big, capable hands of his that had touched her so gently. How could she be surprised that he would have a problem washing her dainty articles?

  “Okay, now just squeeze out the excess water.” She ran her soapy, slick fingers over his knuckles and up his wrist. “Now set it in the rinse water.” He followed her directions.

  “What about these…bras.” His voice sounded winded.

  “Bralets.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re bralets, the flimsy cousin to bras. They have no support.”

  “Then why wear them? Isn’t that the purpose…ah…of bras?”

  She smiled at him in the mirror, his expression of confusion was so endearing. Poor, sweet, dumb men. “I’m sure you remember I’m not exactly hugely endowed in that respect and to be perfectly honest about it, I hate underwires and thick bras. They always make me feel like I’m trying to enhance what I have which I’m not. I like my breasts just the way they are.”

  “They’re as beautiful as you are,” he whispered. She rubbed at the underside of his wrists with her thumbs, enjoying the feel of him around her.

  She so wanted to respect his no sex rule. She did, but it was clear that they both wanted to explore each other from head to toe. It was clear what Wes wanted. It was also clear from the stubborn cant to his chin that he was the most controlled man she’d ever met. Then, when she thought he would continue with the task, he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair and breathed deep. “Jesus, Kia.”

  This was torturing him and her. She hated that she was making it more difficult for him. With a quick movement, she ducked back under his arm and his eyes opened as she moved away. “I’m sorry, Wes. It’s just so hard to keep my distance. But I promise I’ll try harder.”

  He swore like…well…like a sailor.

  “You probably don’t even want to kiss me. It’s probably the piercing. Not many guys like the lip ring. A turn—”

  He pivoted abruptly as if he had finally gotten to the end of his rope. He curled his damp hand around the nape of her neck, the coolness of it barely soothing the heat he had already generated. His mouth came down on hers harder than he’d ever kissed her like he was making a point. His fingers buried in her hair, he pressed her up against the vanity with his hard, undeniably aroused body. With a low growl encompassing both frustration and urgent need, he slanted his mouth across hers and sank his tongue deep, kissing her just as recklessly as he had the night before. His mouth promised sin and unrestrained, bodily pleasure and she matched him stroke for stroke, chasing his tongue with her own, letting him know that she was with him all the way.

  The feverish intensity between them was sizzling hot, the strength and immediacy of her arousal making her knees weak. She slid her arms around his waist and skimmed her hands down to cup his buttocks through soft, worn denim. The muscles tightened under her palms, and the long, hard length of him pushed insistently against the crux of her thighs. She felt the bite of his belt buckle against her hip, but she was too swamped with the desire and need coiling tighter within her to care about the minor discomfort.

  His cell went off, the ringing as insistent as his mouth. He hesitated, then curled his tongue around the lip ring, then his lips sucked her right there as he drew away, her bottom lip still in his grip until he finally let go. The message was pretty clear that her piercings turned him on.

  “Fuck,” his breathing ragged. He set his forehead against hers, then pulled out the cell. “Damn, it’s Tank. Probably checking in. Why don’t you go lie down?” he said. “I’ll finish up here.”

  She nodded. “All the lacy stuff gets set on the drying rack, the knit tops just need to be reshaped and dried flat, including the studded camisole.”

  “Okay.” His eyes followed her as she exited the bathroom.

  Feeling unsatisfied and grumpy, she left the room. Stretching out on her bed, she closed her eyes. All her stuff for the pedicure was on her nightstand. She woke several minutes later when she felt him removing the polish. Then he lifted her and set her on the vanity, gently placing her feet into a pan of warm water. When her nails were clean and buffed, he painted on the deep red color she’d chosen.

  After that she went downstairs with him, and he made dinner. Once they’d finished eating, he built up the fire, and she fell asleep again until Triton startled her awake, alerting them someone was on the porch. Wes picked up his gun and went to the door, peering out onto the porch at the huge silhouette there.

  He relaxed and then opened the door. “Fuck, this place is tucked out of the way,” a deep voice said as he came into the foyer. Then Wes moved and, holy hell. Now she understood why his call name was Tank.

  It was hard to miss that he was big, it was also hard to miss that his features were drop dead gorgeous, but dangerous at the same time. There was no doubt in her mind that this man was a SEAL through and through, alpha to the core. The way he handled Triton was masterful, his confident energy, telling her dog this was someone who was in charge.

  With a face leaner and more angular than Wes’s, he had a wide forehead, heavy dark brows over thick-lashed, mesmerizing dark brown eyes with a bone-deep confidence radiating out of every pore. His black hair was shaved on the sides and long and wavy on top, almost punkish as if he knew what it was like to wear his hair in a mohawk and like it. His mustache was more pronounced, with a light beard coating a strong jaw as dark as his hair. He looked rough and ready, a carved slab of granite, even after twenty odd hours in the car.

  He was tall, at least six four, his massive arms and shoulders bigger than Wes’s, but his waist was tight and lean, the plain black T-shirt he wore was flat against his stomach, the sleeves straining at his bulging biceps. He had a tattoo on his upper arm that she couldn’t quite make out.

  “Petty Officer Thorn Hunt, also known as Tank, this is Kia Silverbrook.”

  He stopped moving when he saw her sitting like a deer caught in the headlights of an incredibly beautiful Mack truck barreling toward her.

  He stared at her as if he was absorbing her. Her attention cut to Wes, and even though it was clear he was trying to keep it under wraps, it was evident he didn’t like the way Tank was looking at her.

  “I pegged it, Cowboy.” He grinned at Wes. “She’s a freaking babe.” He reached out his big hand, all but engulfing hers. “Kia, pleased to meet you. The cavalry is here, ma’am.” There was something else about him; he was a gentle giant, his handshake brief and warm. She couldn’t help but like him right away.

  “You must be exhausted and hungry,” she managed as Wes was now openly scowling. She thought it was cute and wonderful that he was acting so…proprietary. She wondered what kind of relationship these two men had.

  “We ate an hour ago.”

  “We?”

  “I have a Military Working Dog with me.” He bent down and fondled Triton’s head, his hand huge.

  “Tank’s our dog handler.”

  “I’ve heard of that. What’s his name?”

  “Echo. It’s best that we introduce them outside and preferable by walking them in neutral territory before housing them in the same space. It’ll allow them to bond as a pack before I introduce Echo to your home. He’s well-behaved, but this is
Triton’s turf. I have a portable kennel for him as well.”

  They took care of the walk, both dogs a bit agitated at first, but she kept a firm hand on Triton, and Tank was amazing with the compact, beautiful Belgian Malinois. The brisk walk felt good, and back home, she entered first followed by Cowboy, then Triton. After that, Tank entered, then Echo. Both animals settled down near the fire. “I can show you to the guest room, then. You must be tired.”

  He looked back at Wes. “I ain’t here for no damn garden party.” The meaning was lost on her, but Wes, even with the scowl, looked amused.

  “I’m sure that’s some kind of SEAL speak.” She rose and said, “The guest room is this way.”

  He followed her out of the room and past the stairs.

  She opened the door, and he smiled. “Nice room, great view.”

  “Yeah. The bathroom is right through that door, linens are in the closet, towels, extra blankets, etc. Please make yourself at home and help yourself to the kitchen.” Yeesh this guy was so big. He filled the doorway. She was starting to feel better after all.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for coming here and helping me. It’s much appreciated.” They went back out to the living room. “All right. I’ll go to bed. You guys look like you want to talk. Good night, Wes. Mr.…ah…Hunt.”

  “Call me Tank.”

  She nodded. She looked at Wes one more time before she went up the stairs. She’d already showed him his guest room, sandwiched between her bedroom and home office on the upper level. It felt strange to have people in the house, men at that. Gorgeous men. Tank might be attractive, but her heart had belonged to Wes—Cowboy for a long time. Their eyes met and her body ached. She’d miss sleeping close to him tonight.

  8

  “Wow, damsel in distress, hometown, high school reunion, probably family drama. What’s up with her? Who’d want to hurt her?”

  Cowboy was still feeling the waves of tingles everywhere, hot and alive with sensation from Kia’s look as she climbed the stairs.

  “Aren’t you chipper for getting no rack time for almost a day?”

  “Help me with this kennel,” Tank said and blew out a breath. “I took a few twenty-minute power naps. Echo slept just fine. Fill me in.”

  Cowboy followed him out of the house, and they got the pieces out of the back of Tank’s SUV. “I don’t know who the guy was in the alley trying to knife her, but it didn’t feel like a common mugging to me. The guy was trained.”

  Tank frowned, his eyes narrowing. Cowboy was sure he was as pissed as he was to know some elite warrior had been sent after a seemingly innocent, defenseless woman. “As in spec ops?” He unlaced his boots and toed them off.

  “Yeah, he had that feel.” They trundled the pieces into the guest room and set it up. Tank dropped the black bag that held Echo’s feed bowls, extra collars, grooming supplies and leads. He’d already set his dog food into the kitchen.

  Tank whistled. “A freaking merc? Professional assassin? And her background? She owns a bar right?” He unzipped the bag and pulled out a soft fuzzy blue blanket and spread it on the black bottom of the metal wire enclosure. “Echo,” Tank called and the dog immediately responded. Tank pulled out a small bone and said, “Kennel.” The dog entered and Tank gave Echo the bone. He settled down while Tank latched the door.

  They left the room. Triton was still by the fire and looked to be out for the night. “Not just that. She’s a hacker, one who’s not been so particular in her clients.”

  Tank settled into one of the leather chairs. “Wow, a bad girl damsel. My favorite kind.”

  Cowboy sat down on the cushy couch across from his team member. “We’re here to protect her. That’s all.”

  “Right, I’m here to protect her. I believe you have a different agenda.”

  He sighed. “Change of plans.”

  His brown eyes gleamed. “What? Now that she’s in danger you don’t want to nail her?”

  Leaning back into the couch and hooking his ankle across his opposite knee, Cowboy crossed his arms over his chest. “I swear to God, Tank.” His jaw was so clenched, his words came out as if under mountains of pressure, a tight growl. He’d known this was coming since he’d asked for Tank’s help. He’d just meant to confide in Kid, but as was typical, his teammates were as nosy and opinionated as old biddies.

  Tank listened with an indulgent smile, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, you’re uptight. We all know you have a thing for this looker, so cut the crap.”

  When he didn’t answer, Tank leaned forward. The guy was intense even when he was sleeping.

  “It’s complicated.”

  Tank laughed. “It’s body slots A into B. Everyone’s happy. Providing you know which is A and which is B.” He chuckled.

  “Sex isn’t A into B, you Neanderthal. She’s not a hooker.” Cowboy didn’t bother to hide his irritation over Tank’s nonchalance when it came to sex. He was an earthy guy, Cowboy got that, but geez. This was Kia. His Kia. He could tell himself this was about protecting Kia, but that didn’t remotely explain why he couldn’t stop thinking about her, touching her, kissing her when he was the one to set the ground rules. He was chafing at the bit he set in his own mouth.

  Tank’s smile turned knowing and grew wider. “Sure it is. It’s easy-peasy, man.” He set his hand through his dark hair. “You want her. Guys know these things because we’re guys and we have the same one-track minds, but you, my friend, keep everything under wraps and maybe you’re more afraid of showing her who you are than what goes into slot A or B or C for that matter.” After dropping that bomb on him without so much as a breath in direction change, Tank rose. “You know I am kind of hungry. What you got to eat?”

  After going into the kitchen and showing Tank the fridge, he made a sandwich, bypassed the beer and went for the hard lemonade. Tank wouldn’t compromise his focus with alcohol, but the alcohol soft drink wouldn’t even faze that huge metabolism. He sat down at the table to eat it. He might be a Neanderthal, but he was one with manners. He chewed, his features thoughtful. He smirked. “Nice shirt. Girl power. I like it.”

  Cowboy ignored him. That much was true, he was attracted to her. He did want to nail her if he was being crass, and Kia was definitely the opposite of him, bold, unconventional, outgoing and quirky. But something about the way she looked at him, and handled his attention, had definitely gotten to him in ways he didn’t want to understand. But his body certainly had. Which was the last thing he was going to share with the caveman here. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m attracted to her or not. What is important is that she’s got more going on than meets the eye. She’s in trouble, Tank. The kind that makes you dead.”

  His features leveled out, finally serious. “What’s she into then? Did she tell you? Are you sure she’s as innocent as she looks?” He was all business now, and Cowboy finally relaxed a little.

  “Thank you.” Cowboy shifted when a log dropped in the fire like the proverbial other shoe.

  Tank grinned unrepentantly. “Oh, I’m far from being done needling you about this, but if you really think something is up here, I trust your judgment. I wouldn’t have gotten LT to release Echo to me or driven fifteen hundred miles in twenty hours if I didn’t. More importantly, Cowboy, I’ve got your six and hers, too. No one is going to harm her.”

  He nodded. “I hate that she’s terrified, and she told me that she’s also had a break-in. I don’t think that was coincidental.”

  “That son of a bitch is going to die, I swear.”

  “Not if I get to him first.”

  Tank’s jaw hardened. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Me either. As to her innocence, she told me she’s a Black Hat, but her clients are confidential.”

  “DoD?”

  “Yeah, it’s what I was thinking.”

  “Could be some homeless vet in need of some cash. We could be reading more into it then there is.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Any
activity since the attack?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “What’s our plan then? Lay low?”

  “I wish. We have this reunion, and she’s part of it, so she’s adamant about keeping her promises.”

  Tank polished off the sandwich. “What’s the schedule?”

  He rose and went to her notebook and brought it back. Tank looked it over. “Hmmm, the only problematic functions on here are the car wash and tailgate football game. Anyone can get into those. The other functions look like they’re only for your former classmates.”

  “That’s my thought, too.”

  “Can she forego the car wash and tailgate?”

  “I don’t think she’s going to agree with that.” Cowboy got a thought. “Then let’s use it to our advantage. We could flush the bastard out. He knows I’m here, but not you.”

  “Yeah, an ambush. I like being a sneaky bastard.”

  “Could give us some answers.”

  “Yeah, I hope you like the answers you get.”

  When Cowboy climbed the stairs, he was beat. They decided that Tank would also go to bed. If anyone came around, the dogs would alert them to any danger. He looked at her door, then decided checking on her would allow him to sleep better. Slipping into her room, he moved soundlessly across the covered rugs on the hardwood. As soon as he got close to the bed, he could hear her thrashing.

  He rushed the rest of the way. “Whoa, darlin’,” he said gently as she came awake, made a soft sound and wrapped her arms around his neck. He couldn’t help noticing she was wearing the collar again. He wondered what significance it had to her. It was obvious it comforted her. But, for him, it turned him the fuck on.

  “Wes.” She clung to him, holding him so tight, he ached to soothe her, erase the memory of her attack, allay her fears.

  “You’re safe, sweet darlin’.”

  He held her in the dim room as her body got heavy. What Tank had said to him held truth…more than a bit of truth. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. Dammit, the Neanderthal was freaking right. He had the kind of focus that wouldn’t budge no matter what he was doing, whether it was moving through jungle, going over a battle plan, or protecting one beautiful little freak.