Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Sam (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Abbie Zanders

  “Sure, they’re not. Whatever you say.” Her eyes twinkled, and damn, he liked that, too.

  What was this? Were they flirting? Suddenly, he felt awkward. Normal, everyday things like playful teasing weren’t even on his radar. Then she smiled at him again and he didn’t care.

  She put the coffees in a convenient carry tray then filled a small box with an assortment of muffins that made his mouth water. “Try not to eat them all at once,” she teased.

  “I will, but no promises. These things are addictive. My compliments to the chef.”

  A light flush rose in her cheeks, but he could tell she was pleased.

  Satisfied she was safe for now, he paid for his purchases. “Thanks, Sam. See you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  So, he was planning on coming back, was he? The thought probably shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was.

  Sam watched her neighbor walk out, balancing the tray of coffees and box of muffins in those big hands of his. Visions of exactly what he could do with those hands commandeered her thoughts for a moment until the next customer’s deliberate throat clearing brought her back to the present.

  “Yeah, I’d hit that.”

  Sam’s gaze snapped to the thirty-something whose eyes were glued to the back pockets of Steve’s snug-fitting jeans. Only once he had disappeared out the door did the woman look back at Sam.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “Neighbor,” Sam answered truthfully.

  “Lucky you.”

  The somewhat surprising, and totally irrational, ripple of jealousy faded at the customer’s words, even as the also surprising, and totally irrational, words, “Yes, I am,” almost shot out of her mouth, yet remained unspoken. Simply knowing she would probably be seeing more of Steve, and this woman wouldn’t, was oddly satisfying.

  Also satisfying, Mr. Santori was looking over the quarterly reports she had put together in preparation for the upcoming meeting with the bank. They showed a marked improvement in the business, thanks to all her hard work. Her business degree and years of working in her grandparents’ bakery were paying off. She was finally going to get a place of her own!

  Sam left the café feeling optimistic that afternoon, but the feeling didn’t last. That warning prickle, the one that made her feel as if she was being watched, started up again when she was about to leave the ATM. As she waited for her receipt to print, she tried to remain calm and casual as she looked around. That was when she noticed Steve coming out of the bank.

  Without hesitation, she ripped the receipt from the slot and walked toward him with quick, deliberate steps, intended to intercept. He looked much as he had the day before, as if he had just come from working outside. She couldn’t help wondering what he did. Whatever it was, he sure wasn’t spending his days sitting passively behind a desk somewhere.

  His firm male lips turned up when he spotted her, sending a pleasant, tingling sensation into her belly and below. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he quipped.

  Something like relief settled over her, allowing a small, nervous chuckle to escape. “Our paths do seem to be crossing quite often,” she agreed.

  “Must be fate.” He winked. “Heading back to the apartments?”

  She nodded.

  “Me, too. Mind if I walk with you?”

  “Not at all,” she said, maybe a little too quickly if the way his eyes narrowed was any indication. Thankfully, he didn’t call her on it.

  “I think I might have unknowingly created a few monsters today,” he said casually as they walked along. His legs were much longer than hers, but he slowed his pace for her. She appreciated that.

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “The guys loved the coffee and muffins. They’re demanding I bring them every day now.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m glad. If you’re serious, I can have something ready for you. That way you won’t have to wait as long.”

  “Oh, I’m serious. They threatened to go on strike if I don’t.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.”

  “Definitely not.”

  They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable, companionable silence. As he had the night before, he hung back near the stairwell when she went for the elevator.

  “Trust me,” she said, holding the doors open. “You’re fine.”

  He grinned, sending more little sparks shooting into areas that hadn’t experienced sparks for a long time.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  After another moment or two of hesitation, he joined her in the elevator car. Though he didn’t crowd her, his presence did manage to fill the space around her. She was acutely aware of his scent; woodsy with a touch of sawdust, and very masculine. Hardly off-putting. On the contrary, it conjured images of sultry nights and naked bodies.

  “Hey, uh, Sam,” he said almost shyly as they reached their floor.

  “Yes?” Heat flooded her cheeks. Surely, he hadn’t read her mind.

  “Do you know any good take-out places that deliver around here? I haven’t had a chance to pick up much in the way of food and cooking supplies yet.”

  She paused, somewhat relieved and disappointed that he hadn’t asked her something else.

  “What do you like?”

  “I’m a guy. I like meat.” He laughed. “But I’m not really into fast food.”

  “Hmm … Well, that narrows things down,” she said as she considered the options. “I’ve heard people talk about that new steakhouse. I don’t think they deliver, but they do call-aheads and curbside pickup.”

  “That works for me. Have you ever tried them?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  “Would you like to? I can order something for both of us, pick it up, and bring it back here.”

  Sam hesitated at the door, the desire to say yes surprisingly strong. However, something held her back.

  Was he asking her out? Or just being neighborly? It was impossible to tell by his hooded expression.

  She forced the words out before she started something she might regret. “No, but thanks.”

  Disappointment flashed briefly in his eyes. “Okay then. Have a good evening.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  Sam stepped into her apartment, hearing his door close a moment later. She exhaled heavily. Had she just made a mistake by refusing his offer? She was tired, and she really didn’t feel like cooking for herself, yet she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, either. Yeah, he was extremely good-looking and sparked an interest she hadn’t felt in a long time, but she wasn’t exactly in a good place to start anything. Plus, purely physical relationships weren’t her thing, no matter how much her body might be disagreeing with her at that moment.

  As was her routine, she turned on her lights and opened the windows, checked the closets and made use of the bathroom. Everything seemed okay.

  She had only taken a few steps into her bedroom when the heavy scent hit her. She froze, her gaze landing on the bouquet of colorful flowers on her dresser.

  Then, she screamed.

  * * *

  Anthony watched from the corner bus stop as Samantha and that tenacious meathead walked down the street together. They didn’t appear to be talking to one another. Samantha kept her gaze ahead, while her irritating companion discreetly scanned the surrounding area.

  Anthony held his breath as G.I. Joe’s gaze briefly landed on him, then let it out as it moved on.

  Did he know?

  No, he couldn’t possibly know. Anthony had been too careful. He had covered his tracks well. By the time G.I. Joe figured it out, if he ever did, he and Samantha would be long gone.

  Nevertheless, until then, the guy would remain an irritant. He was clearly interested in Samantha, another dog after Anthony’s girl.

  He didn’t blame Samantha, though. She couldn’t help that she was beautiful and that other men were naturally attracted to her.

  Anthony didn’t like
other men looking at her like that. If she had scars, like him, they would leave her alone. Not him, though. Unlike those mangy curs who just wanted her for her pretty face and curvy body, Anthony loved her for what she was on the inside.

  That was why he had left her the flowers, so she would know.

  He had left something for G.I. Joe, too. He hoped they both enjoyed their surprises.

  Chapter Five

  “Way to go, dumbass,” Steve muttered to himself. For a few moments there, he had thought she might be receptive to extending their time together. Her quick refusal had been both polite and very clear, proving that, once again, he was incapable of reading the signals.

  He could have sworn she was glad to see him when he had shown up outside the ATM, and that she had appreciated the company. Add in the subtle teasing banter from earlier and her invitation to join him in the elevator, he had thought maybe …

  Ah, well. It was probably best not to complicate things. He could, and would, continue to look out for her, at least while he was around.

  The moment Steve stepped over the threshold, his senses rocketed to high alert. He drew the concealed weapon he always carried and listened intently, his eyes making a careful sweep. In the silence, he could just barely hear Sam moving around her place, performing what he now recognized as a regular ritual on her part.

  Nothing looked out of place, but something felt wrong. He moved quickly and quietly throughout the apartment. Without much in the way of furniture and minimal draperies, there weren’t many places an intruder could hide. Someone had been in here, though. He would bet his Budweiser—his SEAL trident pin—on it.

  He paused at the closed bathroom door. A shushing sound, very faint, came from within. Inhaling slowly and gun in hand, he eased the door open and reached for the switch.

  As the small bathroom flooded with light, the coiled pit viper in the tub lunged up in a strike.

  “Fucking hell!” Steve muttered, shutting the door quickly.

  Having grown up along a river in the northeastern US, he had recognized it immediately for what it was—a copperhead. The species was venomous, but not usually lethal. That didn’t mean their bites weren’t damn painful and something to be avoided.

  He went into his bedroom and grabbed a pillow, peeling off the case. If at all possible, he would capture the thing and dispose of it elsewhere. Then he heard Sam scream.

  Leaving the snake to deal with later, Steve rushed out of his place and banged on Sam’s locked door, hoping to hell she hadn’t found a similar surprise in her bathroom.

  “Sam! Open up! It’s Steve.”

  He didn’t have to knock again. Seconds later, Sam opened the door, her face pale and her eyes fearful. He held her gently by the upper arms, scanning her for bite marks or injuries.

  “Are you all right? What happened?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hurt,” she said, her voice shaky. “But someone’s been in my apartment.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked carefully.

  “Because whoever it was, they left me flowers in my bedroom.”

  Well, that was creepy as hell, but it was definitely better than a copperhead in the bathroom.

  “Have you noticed anything else? Any more surprises? Anything missing?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I usually check the place pretty thoroughly when I come home. The bedroom is the last place I check.”

  “Mind if I have a look around?”

  She shook her head again, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself.

  Steve did a quick yet thorough inspection, paying particular attention to the bathroom, but he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

  When he returned to the living room, Sam was still standing by the door, right where he had left her. Big eyes, the color of a perfect stormy sky, looked up at him. Deep inside his chest, something clenched. The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed with the desire to pull her close and erase the fear he saw there.

  He might have been tempted to do it, too, if he hadn’t recalled just how easily she had shut him down just a short while earlier. The word KISS popped into his mind: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Yet the acronym conjured up something else entirely when Sam was looking up at him like that. He had to rein it in before he screwed up again.

  “Everything looks okay, but we should call the police.”

  She nodded. “I will, but I don’t know what good it will do.”

  The way she said it made him think this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. If so, hopefully Cage would be able to find something. Steve had asked him to do some research while they were working up at the resort earlier, and though he had gotten a raised eyebrow, Cage had agreed without asking a lot of questions.

  Hopefully, Sam would open up and provide some firsthand info, but he wanted to calm her down first. That fearful look in her eyes made him want to kill the bastard who had put it there.

  “Come on; you can call from my place.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again. “All right. Let me just grab my purse. It has my phone and wallet.”

  She followed him back to his apartment, which looked stark and utilitarian compared to the soft hues and homey feel of hers.

  He waved his hand toward the recliner. “Sorry, this is all the seating space I have at the moment. Make your call. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

  Remembering his own little welcome home surprise, he disappeared into his bedroom first and picked up the pillowcase and a change of clothes.

  His gut told him that whoever had left the flowers in Sam’s bedroom had also been the one to leave the copperhead for him. He had seen enough to believe someone was stalking her. It wasn’t a stretch to assume said stalker had been watching and had seen them together. The snake was probably meant as a warning, a special stay-away-from-Sam message.

  If that were true, then the guy wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. If anything, his latest actions only made Steve more determined to stay close and keep an eye on things.

  After brief consideration, he decided against telling Sam that he had received a “gift,” too. It would only upset her more and could be counterproductive. She seemed like the kind of person who would distance herself if she felt like she was putting someone else in danger, even if that someone was a highly skilled, lethal SEAL, and that was unacceptable.

  As far as telling the cops, he would play it by ear, see how they responded. Although, at this point, he preferred to handle things his own way. Police had rules to follow, laws to uphold. Him, not so much. For the last twelve years, his primary objectives had taken precedence over things like red tape and working through proper channels. Those things could take months, even years, and he had neither the patience nor the time for that. He wanted to know that, when he moved on, Sam would be safe.

  With that in mind, Steve made quick work of the snake, dispatching it as humanely as possible and tying it up in the case. He could hear Sam’s muffled voice through the doorway, talking to the police. He took a two-minute shower to get off the worst of the day’s dirt and sweat, then changed and was back in the living room five minutes later.

  “That was fast,” she said. Her eyes latched on to the water droplets that fell from his still-wet hair down onto his shoulder and unconsciously licked her lips.

  Another signal to misinterpret? He put a lock on the poorly timed and wholly inappropriate lust flaring up from the base of his spine.

  Her eyes flicked back up to his face, reminding him that he needed to focus on something other than how that little pink tongue would feel on his skin.

  “I’m guessing you were in the military.”

  He nodded but didn’t offer any additional information, and she didn’t ask.

  “The police said they’ll send someone out when they can, but it might be a few hours. I’m not supposed to touch anything until then.”

  “Standard procedure,” Steve commented. �
�You can hang out with me.” The words were spoken for her benefit. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight.

  She chewed her lip, then raised her eyes to his. “I think I’d like that, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’ll even let you ride in my Jeep when we go for food.” He wasn’t asking this time, and this wasn’t a date. It was simply a way to feed his need for food while satisfying this other need to stay with her until the police arrived.

  Again, she looked like she wanted to say something but wisely refrained.

  He pulled up the restaurant’s menu on his phone, then dialed, turning to Sam while he was put on hold. “You like steak?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to—”

  “Two New York strip dinners, baked potatoes, garden salad,” he spoke into the phone, overriding her protest. “House is fine, on the side. Carry-out. Got it.”

  “You didn’t need to do that,” she said as soon as he hung up.

  He shrugged. “You have to eat, don’t you? Besides, good manners dictate that I can’t eat unless you’re eating, and I’m starving.”

  Her lips quirked at that, easing some of the tension around that pretty mouth. “What if I’m not hungry?”

  “Trust me; it won’t go to waste,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Let’s go. Looks like the place is on the other side of town, and we want to be here when the cops show. Uh, wait a sec.”

  Steve went into the bathroom, grabbed the knotted-up pillowcase with the dead snake inside, then held open the door for her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, looking suspiciously at his bundle.

  “Garbage.”

  “In a pillowcase?”

  “I haven’t had time to get garbage bags yet, either.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, then she laughed. It was a light, beautiful sound.

  “You really need to get to the store, Steve.”

  He grinned back. “Yeah, I guess I should, huh.”

  * * *

  Sam laughed then felt somewhat foolish. Once again, her living space had been violated by some unknown creeper, yet here she was, laughing at something her neighbor said. Her handsome, sexy, kind, chivalrous neighbor.