Saved by the SEAL

by Diana Gardin

  There were very few people in the world Mea opened up to: me, Berkeley, and her younger brother, Mikah. But I knew there would always be things about her past and present life she’d never open up about. I always want to be there for her, just in case she decides to spill her guts.

  She hops off of my bed, and I can almost see her walls rising so she won’t have to answer my question. As I expect, she deflects. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and your hot SEAL.” She flounces out of my room, leaving a light whiff of honeysuckle behind her. Her signature scent matches her sweet nature, but not her sassy personality.

  I watch her go, silently wondering what she isn’t telling me. Then I shake off the questions I have regarding my roommate and head into the bathroom to shower. Grisham will be waiting for me at Night Eagle in a little over half an hour.

  “Try it again,” Grisham instructs, his chiseled face set in serious determination.

  I gaze at him, momentarily distracted. Guys shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful.

  We’ve been working together in the training room at Night Eagle for a little over an hour as Grisham patiently teaches me fighting moves that will help me defend myself and gain the upper hand if the situation ever arises where I’ll need it. Grisham started off today with a lesson in mixed martial arts. He told me that along with self-defense tactics, MMA would give me all of the resources I would ever need in a fight. So from now on he’d be training me in MMA as well as teaching me basic self-defense moves.

  At first, I was thrown. I’ve never been in a fight in my life, and learning to use my feet and my fists to hurt someone is such a foreign concept to me that my brain fought against it. But Grisham’s firm-yet-gentle coaching put me in the correct frame of mind. Working for Night Eagle could very possibly place me in the range of some dangerous people and sketchy situations, and the men in my life want me to be able to handle myself.

  First we reviewed the three sequences he taught me during our last lesson. Grisham made sure I was really comfortable with them before moving on to fighting with my fists.

  “You’ve got this, Grits,” he encourages. His arms are covered with punch pads. “Remember: jab, cross, and then switch your feet quickly. Keep your hips forward while you immediately jab that knee upward.”

  I suck in a deep breath as I nod, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet the way Grisham taught me earlier. My eyes zero in on the punch pads he holds in front of his face. I try to focus, telling myself that today Grisham isn’t a super-sexy man of action who causes my heart to flutter dangerously in my chest whenever he’s near. Today he’s an attacker, and my life depends on whether or not I’m able to fend him off.

  “Go!” he shouts.

  Reacting to the intensity in his voice, I jab my left fist forward. It’s covered in the sparing glove Grisham fitted me with at the start of today’s lesson. My fist connects with the pad, but before I allow the jolt to rocket through me I’m crossing over with my right fist and it slams into the other pad. Then I hop lightly, switching the position of my feet, and immediately throw my right knee up. I hear the swift crack of its connection with the pad.

  “That’s my girl!” Grisham cheers for me, raising one arm in the air and pumping it in victory.

  “I did it.” I’m amazed that my muscles just remembered what to do on their own, after practicing with Grisham. “Holy shit.”

  The buzz of empowerment that runs through me at the completion of today’s lesson is all-consuming. I’m elated, feeling so high from the pride and joy of my success that I feel like I could float off the ground. Grisham throws the punch pads on the ground and comes toward me, sweeping me off my feet and into a bear hug.

  “I knew you could,” he says, his voice gravelly in my ear. “I’m so proud of you. You rock at this, Grits.”

  A hot flush of pride sweeps through me, and I curl my arms up around his neck. “Thank you. For teaching me this.”

  He inhales, his nose planted against my neck. “It’s my pleasure.” He breathes.

  When he puts me down, I slide down the front of his rock-hard body nice and slow, dragging sparks of heat and electricity with me as I go. I stare up at him, my arms still loosely entwined around his neck, my fingers playing in the short hairs at his nape. His eyes darken, and then his lips are on mine. His hands squeeze my ass until I’m flush against him, and I can feel the hard length of his erection pushing into my stomach. It’s electrifying, feeling how much a man like Grisham wants me. My body’s response is immediate and carnal as a flood of heat pools in my core.

  I whimper softly as his tongue teases my lips open, invading my mouth to stroke mine. He squeezes my ass in response, a low growl emitting from his chest.

  I’m not sure how long we stand there, making out while our hands explore and roam over our clothes, but I’m winded when he finally pulls away.

  “Like I said.” He gives me a rogue grin. “You’re kinda good at this.”

  “I thought you were talking about the fighting,” I whisper, slightly dizzy from our connection.

  “I’m talking about everything.” The meaning behind his words doesn’t escape me, and a hot blush captures my face. He smiles.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I clap a hand over my mouth. “I completely forgot to tell you. Berkeley stopped by here yesterday to bring a smoothie for Dare.”

  “And she wants us all to go for drinks tonight,” he finishes with a wry smile. “She called me this morning.”

  Suddenly feeling shy, I peek up at him through my lashes. “Do you want to go?”

  He pushes a lock of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail back behind my ear. “I’ll take the excuse to go have some drinks with my friends and also spend the night hanging out with you.”

  A giggle bubbles up. “Uh, okay then. I guess we’ll go home and shower…” My voice trails off when I realize what I’ve said. “I mean, not together, of course. You’ll go to your home and shower, and I’ll go to my home and shower…”

  “I think the joint shower sounds like a good idea,” he offers, smirking at my faux pas.

  I smack his chest. “Stop it! God, why do you make me so nervous?”

  He catches my hand and brings it to his lips. “Don’t be nervous. I want to hang out with you tonight. I’m just going to tolerate the fact that everyone else will be there, too. Okay? Can I pick you up? Or will you be riding with Mea?”

  I sigh in relief, watching the way his thumb strokes the back of my hand and feeling the sizzle all the way down to my toes. “I’ll text you and let you know. I’ll check with Mea when I get home to see what she wants to do.”

  He nods, releasing my hand, and we both walk out of the training room and down the stairs. “Sounds like a plan.”

  When we arrive in the lobby, Dare and my father are seated around the low coffee table in a couple of chairs, poring over a large map spread out over the sleek wood.

  “What are you guys doing here on a Saturday?” I ask in surprise.

  Both men glance up.

  “You get a good training session in?” asks my father. He stands up and shakes Grisham’s hand.

  “She did some sparring today, and was excellent.” Hearing Grisham brag on me is something I think I can get used to.

  My father beams, the pride evident on his face. “Of course she did. You keep working on it, okay, sweetheart?”

  I nod. Gesturing toward the map and the electronic notebooks spread in front of them, I ask, “What’s all this?”

  My father sits down in his chair, leaning back while Dare stands up to stretch and greet Grisham. “We’re trying to strategize. We have a new client.”

  The inner office door opens, and two men walk out. I recognize them as the Night Eagle team, but my father introduces them to Grisham.

  “Grisham Abbot, these men are part of my team here. This is Ronin Shaw and Jeremy Teague.”

  Jeremy is a tall hunk of a guy with an olive complexion and dark hair to match. It’s cut short
on the sides and longer on top. His locks curl around the top of his forehead, and large dimples dent his cheeks whenever he smiles. He’s in his mid-twenties, just like Ronin.

  Ronin is a lighter version of Jeremy. They both have similar builds, made of solid muscle, although Ronin is a little taller. His dirty-blond hair falls to just below his collar, but he usually wears it pulled up into a ponytail. Ponytails have probably never been as sexy on a guy as they are on Ronin. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief half the time, like he’s up to something no one else knows anything about. He’ll pull his share of pranks in the office if given half a chance.

  They both give me big, teddy-bear grins that make me smile back at them with affection. Both young men have become like big brothers to me in the short time I’ve worked in the office. They’re sweet, even if Jeremy is gruff and Ronan’s a goofball.

  “Jacob kind of poached Shaw and Teague from the police force after they helped with Berkeley’s rescue awhile back,” explains Dare. He grins at my father.

  My father shrugs. “How could they refuse? Private work pays better than public service.”

  “Yeah, and we still get to do what we love. Help people and kick ass.” Jeremy crosses bulging biceps over his broad chest. He glances at me and winks.

  I nod toward the office. “So you guys were working in there on the same tactical strategies while Dad and Dare are figuring out entries and exits out here?”

  My father nods. “We decided to split up for a bit, because something about this situation is throwing us off.”

  Grisham leans closer to look at the map Dad has laid out on the table. I look, too, but I can’t understand what they’re talking about at first.

  Dare explains. “This map is of the wooded area outside of Wilmington, farther away from the coast. There’s a compound there where our client fears someone is keeping his wife. The FBI is involved, but he has hired us to help because he has the money and he’s worried the person keeping his wife there will hurt her or worse.”

  A pang of sympathy shoots through my chest. “That’s awful.”

  My father nods grimly. “We’re trying to figure out the best way to approach the compound. The terrain is rough, and we have to expect that the owner of the compound will have eyes all over his property.”

  Grisham focuses intently on the map, stroking his chin while he concentrates. “What if you did something like this?” He points to a spot on the map and leans in. “Dropping in from the sky would be a dead giveaway. But coming in at night in stealth mode on foot, right in this spot, might give you a chance to have the element of surprise. From what I can see on the map, this is where his security would be the weakest. There’s the least chance of him having a visual on you entering the property.”

  My father looks sharply at Grisham before leaning in to take in what he’d pointed out on the map.

  “That could work,” says Dare thoughtfully.

  I take a step back, glancing around at the five men as they pore over the materials in front of them. They’re all so absorbed in what they’re doing they’ve probably forgotten I’m here. I shake my head, amused at how quickly Grisham’s been pulled into the fold, and head to my desk. I might as well get a little bit of work done while they’re busy. I turn on my computer and pull up a schedule I’m planning to work on next week. I can get an early start on it for a half hour or so and then go home to shower before a night out with my friends.

  I pull open my desk drawer, reaching in without looking to grab a pen. When a sharp prick stabs my finger, sending a jolt of pain through my hand, I let out a small cry of surprise.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Grisham.

  When I look up, five pairs of eyes are staring intently at me.

  “Um, it’s nothing. I just hurt my finger.” I put the offending finger into my mouth, tasting the coppery metallic tang of blood. I look at my finger and notice a small wound. Feeling dizzy, I quickly pull my gaze away.

  When I lean down to check my drawer, I see the offending weapon. The thorn of a single white rose.

  A chill crawls up my spine and down again.

  How did this rose get in my desk?

  I stare at it a moment before I realize that Grisham is standing in front of my desk. Concern is etched on his face.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod numbly, not sure what to make of the rose in my desk. “Yeah, I…I pricked my finger on a thorn from this rose.”

  Grisham’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. “That rose was in your desk? Just now?”

  I nod. “I don’t know how it got there.”

  Frowning, Grisham picks up the flower and turns it over in his hand. “I don’t like this.”

  I shake my head. “It’s weird.”

  “Who has access to your desk?”

  I gesture. “Just these guys, I guess. But none of them ever touches my desk. And none of them would leave me a flower without telling me it was from them.”

  Then I remember Ronin’s affinity for pranks. “Unless…hey, guys?”

  The men look up at me again.

  “Have any of you given me flowers lately?”

  Genuine expressions of confusion cross their faces, and I know immediately that none of them have pulled a fast one on me. “Never mind.”

  Grisham studies the rose. “Do you want to report this?” He keeps his voice low.

  I snort. “Report what? The fact that someone is giving me flowers?”

  He frowns. “You’re right. There’s nothing to report. But I want you to keep your eyes open, okay? First the bouquet and the red rose in your car, and now this. It’s strange, and I don’t like it.”

  I nod glumly. “It’s strange, all right. I’ll keep an eye out. But I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sure it is.”

  Dare calls out, “Grisham, come here. Let me run something by you.”

  I shut down my computer and stand. Suddenly, I’m no longer in the mood to work. “Hey, guys, I’m out of here, okay? Grisham, I’ll text you later.”

  He gives me a warm smile. “Looking forward to it.”

  I keep the warmth from his smile with me on my way home, helping to ease the anxiety the white rose brought me. But the throbbing in my finger keeps it at the forefront of my thoughts.

  15

  Grisham

  I don’t know why or how the path through the woods to the compound jumped out at me so easily. It just did. As I’m sitting with the Night Eagle team poring over the map and the digital notes they’d taken during their initial meeting with their client, it occurred to me that someone who’s hiding something big enough to need an entire compound in the woods to themselves would have aerial coverage of the sky surrounding their land. But maybe it would be much more difficult to survey every acre surrounding their home.

  “I thought about going in on foot,” mused Jacob thoughtfully. “Actually, I was thinking that’d be the way we’d have to do it, but how’d you find this route so damn fast? You only looked at the map for about a minute.”

  “It just jumped out at me,” I answer honestly. “My brain works that way with maps and data. I can see things other people can’t…that’s why I was able to lead my own SEAL team at twenty-four.”

  Dare grins at me, impressed. “Respect, dude. That’s something to be proud of.”

  I glance down at my foot. “It was.”

  Jacob fixes me with a stern stare. His eyes are intense in their gaze, and he makes damn sure I can’t look away. He holds authority the way most soldiers hold their weapons: with firm ease. “No, it is. You seem to move pretty damn well on that foot of yours, Abbot. Now, I figure the navy has given you your walking papers, am I right?”

  With the sinking feeling in my gut I get whenever I think about leaving the job I thought I’d do until I died, I nod. “Yeah. The end of the year, I’m out. Honorably, and with some medals, yeah. But I still have to go.”

  Jacob gives me an assessing look, and the oth
er guys are looking me up and down, too. I hold up under their scrutiny, though, because there’s no way in hell I’m backing down to a bunch of ex-Rangers. As a SEAL, I’m proud of my branch and of my service, so if they don’t think I measure up to them, they can all go to hell. Dare gives me a minimal shake of his head, almost as if he can hear what I’m thinking. I focus my attention back on Jacob.

  “What are your plans after you’re out?”

  This is the question I’ve asked myself a hundred times and haven’t yet been able to answer. How am I going to go from saving lives, putting myself on the line with each mission I’m a part of, the adrenaline rush that is being a SEAL, to all of that being completely absent from my life? How do I go from something like that to a desk job or something? I have a college degree, I know there are other avenues for me when I retire from the navy. But none of them have appealed to me so far.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Jacob pauses, mulling something over in his brain as he keeps his stare locked on me. I can almost see the gears turning, until he finally speaks.

  “I have a proposition for you. I like how quickly that brain of yours read this situation, and I’m interested in having you on the team here at Night Eagle. We’re growing, and I need to be able to split some assignments between a few men each here at the Wilmington office. If you’re interested, I’d like to give you a PT test that I use for my guys here, and then I’d like to try you out on this assignment, since you already weighed in on it. Are you interested?”

  Fuck, yeah…I’m interested! I want to shout it at the top of my lungs.

  My heart is kicking up dust in my chest just thinking about his offer. I can’t believe my luck…I literally just walked into a possible future for life after the navy. And I hadn’t even seen it coming.