Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  “Here’s an extra pillow from the bed.”

  “Thanks.”

  He held out his arms, and she smashed the pillow against his chest and scurried into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of her baggy nightshirt before she slammed the door. His brow furrowed. Why the modesty? She wasn’t wearing anything from the pages of one of those sexy lingerie catalogs. Not that she needed to. Amy’s natural beauty and feisty personality pushed all his buttons—including some he didn’t even know he had.

  He didn’t figure he’d ever want to involve a woman in his business again, especially not after what had happened to April. But Amy wanted in, and not for the same reasons as April. Carlos Castillo had dragged Amy into his business, and she had a burning desire to finish it.

  Riley dropped his shorts by the edge of the couch and peeled off his T-shirt. He punched the pillow a few times and dragged the blanket over his shoulders.

  The bathroom door clicked open, a shaft of light slicing across the hall.

  Amy poked her head into the living room. “Are you okay? There’s still time to switch.”

  “I’m good.” He waved his arm, the blanket slipping from his shoulder. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in my bed.”

  Without me.

  Amy hesitated, a soft sigh escaping from her lips. Riley held his breath. Was she about to issue an invitation?

  “Th-thanks, Riley. Good night.”

  Riley eased back against the cushion. Of course she wouldn’t ask him to join her. They’d just met. Today. On the beach. Under fire. They barely knew each other.

  AMY PEELED OPEN ONE EYELID and focused on the sunlight sifting through the blinds. After thrashing around and twisting the bedcovers into a hopeless knot, she welcomed the morning after the sleepless night she’d spent in Riley’s bed.

  Replaying the previous day’s events in her mind had kept her wide-awake, wide-eyed and fearful. Once she’d talked herself back away from the ledge, her thoughts scrambled down another just-as-torturous path—Riley Hammond half-naked in the other room.

  For one crazy moment last night, she’d almost suggested he join her in bed. The lust factor did play a role in her almost-invitation, but she also craved a warm body for comfort. Those old familiar feelings of loneliness had washed over her when she’d slipped between the cool sheets of Riley’s bed alone.

  She snorted and buried her face in the pillow. As if Riley would’ve been interested in cuddling away her fears all night. That wouldn’t have even been enough for her. Once she got her hands on his rock-hard bod…

  The rap on the bedroom door had her yanking the covers to her chin. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

  The door cracked open a sliver.

  “You’re awake? I didn’t want to disturb you before, but we should get going.”

  She gasped and shot upright. “Is it late?”

  “About ten o’clock.” He pushed open the door and wedged a shoulder against the doorjamb, his long hair wet and slicked back from his face. “We had a late night, and you needed your sleep.”

  She rubbed her eyes. She still needed her sleep. It figured. She’d dozed off at the break of dawn and slept in.

  Scrambling from the bed, she said, “Looks like you already showered. You probably need to get in here and get dressed.”

  Pulling her oversize T-shirt past her thighs, Amy’s gaze tracked across Riley’s bare chest. She worked on the beach and all the male lifeguards she knew spent half their time shirtless, but the sight of Riley’s flat planes of muscle and ridged abs left her breathless.

  His blue eyes darkened as he crossed his arms over those amazing pecs. Had she unsettled him with her unabashed appreciation of his male assets?

  He cocked one brow and a lazy smile played across his lips as his muscles seemed to bunch up even more. Unsettled? Hardly.

  Amy turned and dipped her head into her suitcase. “I’ll grab some clothes and hit the shower.”

  She pawed through a jumble of shorts and T-shirts. What did one wear on a spying mission? Wrapping her arms around a bundle of clothes, she headed for the door where Riley’s solid frame loomed in the opening.

  He stepped aside, and she brushed past him, her arm skimming his.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  His voice so close to her ear made her jump. “Huh?”

  “How’d you sleep? No bumps in the night?”

  “Plenty, but they were all in my head.” She stumbled into the bathroom, still misty from Riley’s shower. She inhaled the steam and savored the scent of masculinity that whispered on the air.

  She shook her head. Maybe she should adjust the water temperature to freezing to quell these fantasies about Riley. After her lukewarm shower, she toweled off and pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Then she padded to the living room.

  Riley, dressed in jeans and a black tee, sat hunched over the counter, nursing a cup of coffee and scanning a newspaper.

  He glanced up when she walked into the room. “Do you want some bran flakes or instant oatmeal?”

  “I’ll take the cold cereal.” She plopped down on the stool across from him and reached for the box of bran flakes. “Anything in that paper about last night’s activities?”

  “Nope. I guess you weren’t that convincing.” He collected a bowl and a spoon from the dish drainer on the sink and shoved them across to her.

  “I wouldn’t trust those cops to find a lollipop in a candy store anyway.”

  Riley blinked and studied her face.

  Tone down the vehemence about the police, girl. Amy ignored his puzzled gaze and dumped some cereal in her bowl. Riley got the hint and retreated to his bedroom where he proceeded to bang closet doors and drawers. She hoped he’d emerge with some tools of his trade—guns, knives, grenades.

  Riley joined her in the kitchen with a promising black bag slung over one shoulder. He scooped up Carlos’s keychain and swung it around his finger. “Are you ready to investigate?”

  Amy dropped her dishes in the sink. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, but what happens if we don’t find anything? What next?”

  “I search for new leads, and you watch your back.”

  Amy shivered and clenched her teeth. She didn’t like the sound of that proposition at all.

  A half hour later, Riley pulled Carlos’s car into the almost deserted beach parking lot. With summer over and school back in session, only a few die-hard runners and walkers occupied the barren sands. Surfers found better waves up the coast and fishermen had the pier farther north for their activities.

  As he rolled past the empty spaces, Riley asked, “Where’s the storage container?”

  “South end of the beach. Just over that rise. You can’t see it from the parking lot.”

  Perfect place to stash some illegal contraband. Riley nabbed the last space on the south side of the lot and grabbed his black bag out of the trunk.

  Amy pointed to the bag as Riley hitched it over his shoulder. “What’s in there?”

  “A few necessities of life.”

  “Bet your necessities are a lot different from mine.”

  “If you hang out with me long enough, you’ll come to appreciate mine more.”

  She wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Amy clumped across the dry sand next to Riley. But back at his place he’d made it pretty clear that if they hit a dead end on the beach, she’d be on her own, Looking over her shoulder.

  Not that she was any stranger to looking over her shoulder. Or being on her own.

  They traipsed up a small dune and the storage unit rose from the sand, an ominous dark gray shape. Amy shoved her hands in her pockets to hide their slight trembling. She’d never considered the junior lifeguard shed scary before.

  “Do you want to do the honors?” Riley dragged the keys from his front pocket and dangled them from one finger.

  Amy held out her hand, and Riley dropped them into her palm. She selected the unusual key from the ring and lifted the lock securing the door. With sha
ky fingers, she tried to insert the key into the lock, finding success on her third try.

  Riley helped her pull open the heavy door, which creaked on rusty hinges. Amy sniffed at the briny scent that lived in every corner of the storage unit.

  As her gaze tracked across the cleared-out space in the center of the unit, her breath hitched, and she grabbed the edge of the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Riley hovered over her left shoulder.

  “This.” She swept one arm in front of her. “We didn’t leave it like this.”

  “You mean this clearing?” Riley stepped around her and parked in the middle of the circle ringed with buoys, life vests, surfboards and paddle boards.

  “We stacked all this equipment at the end of the junior guard session. Someone’s pushed it out of the way to make room for…” Amy hugged herself, suddenly cold in the stuffy unit.

  Riley crouched beside her, running his hands over the cement flooring just beyond the shaft of light from the open door. He turned his hands over and studied his palms, as if trying to read his future.

  “Do you see anything?” Amy leaned over his shoulder and peered at the sand and grit stuck to his palms.

  “No.” He brushed his hands together. “But then I didn’t expect them to leave any heroin behind.”

  “W-what would it look like?” Her gaze darted around the storage facility.

  “Probably a brown powder or a black tar form. The couriers from Afghanistan might have already packaged it in balloons for Velasquez to sell on the street.” Riley braced his hands on his knees. “But I think it’s clear Carlos made this space available to the dealers from Afghanistan to leave their delivery for the Velasquez Cartel.”

  Amy squatted next to him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “And Velasquez’s boys picked it up last night. That’s why they didn’t come after us after those initial shots. They found what they came for. That could’ve been the end of it.”

  “Except for Carlos.” Riley brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “They came after Carlos because they didn’t trust him or because he didn’t deliver the money for the shipment.”

  “That still doesn’t get us beyond square one. Why did Carlos return to my house? I just don’t—”

  “Shh.” Riley sliced a hand across his throat.

  Amy covered her mouth with her hand as a shadow passed by the open door to the unit, momentarily blocking the sun that had given them their only light.

  Jumping to his feet, Riley pulled the gun from his waistband. Amy toppled sideways into the paddle boards. How’d he whip that out so fast? She hadn’t even realized he’d been packing anything other than the stash in the black bag.

  Clutching the weapon in his right hand, Riley crept toward the door and poked his head outside. He called over his shoulder, “You saw that, right?”

  “I saw a darkening at the door, but it could’ve been a cloud moving over the sun, or a bird.”

  “That’s one helluva bird to blot out the sun.”

  “Do you see anything?”

  “Just a couple walking in the distance, but these dunes make it hard to see for any distance.” He spun around, tucking the gun back into his waistband. “Let’s get out of here and take a look at the lifeguard tower.”

  Amy scrambled to her knees and gripped the thick edges of the paddle board, shoving it back against the others. A sliver of silver glinted behind the board. Amy’s fingers inched along the gritty floor and she slid the hard, smooth object toward her.

  She pinched her find between two fingers and shifted into the light, holding it up for inspection. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.

  “What’s that?” Riley knelt beside her.

  Amy opened her mouth, emitted tiny gasps of air. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and scooped in a deep breath.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Amy. Dad’s in prison.

  “It’s a cigarette holder.” She held the slim tube flattened on one end under Riley’s nose, her fingers covering the initials engraved on the end.

  “You don’t see many of those around anymore.” He plucked the holder from her fingers and pushed to his feet. In two steps he reached the square of sunlight and examined the holder. “I suppose none of the lifeguards smoke or happen to use a cigarette holder?”

  Feeling like she had just aged twenty years, Amy staggered to her feet and stretched. “None of the lifeguards smoke, and I’ve never seen any of them use a cigarette holder.”

  “What about Carlos?”

  “Not a smoker.”

  “And his initials aren’t E.P.” Riley rubbed the pad of his thumb along the edge of the cigarette holder.

  “Initials?” Amy clenched her jaw and swallowed hard.

  “Engraved on the side.” Riley tossed the object into the air and caught it, closing his fist around it. “Looks like we have a piece of evidence.”

  “I don’t see what good some anonymous cigarette holder is going to do us.” Amy pushed the hair out of her face and stalked past Riley. Once outside, she gulped in the fresh sea air.

  The hinges of the storage unit protested as Riley swung the door shut with a bang. “You never know. Any evidence is better than none. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She spun around and heaved against the heavy door with her shoulder as Riley secured the lock.

  He snapped the lock into place and cocked his head. “You look pale. I mean, beneath your suntan, which is even weirder.”

  “I was getting creeped out in there.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, relieved the trembling had stopped. “I’m half Mexican, you know. I tan easily.”

  Riley wedged a finger beneath her chin and tilted. “Is that where the pretty, dark eyes come from and the dark hair with the auburn sheen to it? Your mother must be Mexican. Is Prescott English?”

  Amy slipped from his inspection, a swath of that dark hair with the auburn sheen hiding her hot face. Had he really noticed that much about her?

  “I guess, just a mishmash of American mutt.” With an emphasis on mutt. “Hey, can we check out the rest of the beach now?”

  He paused for a few seconds and then pocketed the key and the cigarette holder. “Let’s go.”

  Amy shuffled behind Riley, twisting her hands in front of her. She really didn’t want to go into her family lineage with him. After discovering her background, he just might suspect her entire involvement in this mess.

  They searched the area near the water where Velasquez’s man died. Then they poked around the lifeguard tower, which Amy had locked up last night when she’d returned with the sheriff’s deputies.

  Riley grabbed the base of the tower and leaned forward, the muscles in his back and shoulders a rippled outline beneath his T-shirt. “Did you ever find your wallet?”

  “Right here where I dropped it.” Amy pointed her toe at the sand beneath the tower. “So if the guys from the boat did use it to get my address, they left it behind.”

  Dropping his lashes over his blue eyes, Riley mumbled, “I don’t think they needed your wallet, Amy.”

  “You think they already had my address?” She licked her lips, tasting the salt from the moist air. “Carlos must’ve told them about me. But how did they know to find Carlos at my place?”

  “They either followed him or staked out your house.”

  “Riley.” Amy burrowed the toes of her tennis shoes into the dry sand. “If the Velasquez goons or their customers already killed Carlos and picked up their drugs from the storage unit, what did they want from me last night? Why’d they return?”

  Riley spread his hands, sand clinging to his palms and fingers, and lifted his shoulders. Strong shoulders. Capable hands. A man you could trust. Maybe.

  “Let’s put a positive spin on this.” He shifted his gaze to the ocean, his eyes reflecting the grayish-blue water.

  “I’m ready for positive.”

  “Carlos double-crossed both parties, so they were both after him. Someone got lucky and nailed him first.
The other party was still after him last night, and maybe now they know he’s dead. If so, your involvement ends there.”

  “I like the sound of that. I’ll stay with my friends for a few days to be on the safe side, and then I’m going to try to put this behind me.”

  His eyes widened. “You can do that?”

  Riley had no idea how much she’d already put behind her. What was one murdered, drug-dealing ex-boyfriend? As she watched the sea breeze toss the ends of Riley’s sun-washed hair, Amy swallowed. Putting Riley behind her was a whole other matter.

  “I had already forgotten about Carlos. Now it’ll just be easier.”

  Riley whistled. “Ooh, that’s cold. Okay, I’m just going to have to be satisfied with my cigarette holder. Maybe it will lead me to someone or something.”

  Amy opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. The fact that her father used a cigarette holder would be of no interest to Riley. Her father had nothing to do with the events of the past twenty-four hours.

  “Are you ready?” Riley grabbed her hand, the grit from his fingers grating across her skin.

  She left her hand in his, wondering if the buzz she felt at their connection would dull to a hum. She had to steel herself to walk away from this man. She was probably mistaking the adrenaline rush for attraction.

  He opened the car door for her and she slid onto the warm leather seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t need the excitement. She didn’t want the excitement. She could have a typical relationship with a normal, boring guy. Women did it every day.

  Riley dropped onto the driver’s seat and blew out a breath. “I’d call this a productive outing.”

  “You would? Finding a random cigarette holder is productive?”

  He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up to the windshield. “It’s unusual. It has the owner’s initials. I have a few contacts with the Velasquez Cartel. It should be easy to track down the owner.”

  Amy tucked her hands beneath her thighs. She just hoped the owner had nothing to do with her father. “I’ll leave the spy work to you. I’ll grab my stuff from your place and drop in on my friends. They left me a text message on my cell.”