Romanced by a SEAL: Hot SEALs

by Cat Johnson

  “That SEAL had been sent in as part of a QRF to extract a group of combat advisors there to advise and assist. The advisors had gotten pinned down in the village by a hundred and fifty or so fighters and needed rescuing.”

  “Ah. Yeah. I can see how command won’t want to hear from any more advisors at the moment. They’re not going to send anyone over while this is breaking in the press, even if we would have been smart enough to choose a location a little less hot for the meet.”

  “It’s not just the shit choice of location. It seems like it was one fuck up after another. Those fighters knew exactly where to find that meeting and when, so obviously somebody didn’t keep quiet. On top of that, ISIS put together a sizeable fighting force and broke through the line with twenty-vehicles and a damn bulldozer so somebody was asleep on the job. Who doesn’t notice that kind of offense being assembled? Somebody fucked up.”

  “Agreed.” Jon sighed. “So this lead is a dead end, but that’s okay. We have more than enough work to keep GAPS busy.”

  Too much, actually, since Jon was very possibly not going to be around.

  “Fuck that. I’m not giving up. I still think there’s an opportunity here. If I can just get a meeting, we can present to them everything that their current contractor did wrong and how we would have handled it differently.”

  It was very easy to play Monday morning quarterback and review everything that went wrong after the fact. That was very different than being able to avoid the tragedy to begin with. He wasn’t about to say that though.

  Jon was already spread too thin. He needed to choose his battles. With Zane. With Ali. And if Zane was off chasing meetings and out of Jon’s hair, even better.

  With that in mind, Jon said, “Okay. Keep trying.”

  “Will do. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Jon was about to say goodbye and hang up when he remembered the latest news. “Oh and by the way, Chris asked Darci to marry him.”

  “Jesus. Is he trying to kill us all?”

  Jon knew why he couldn’t even think about proposing to Ali right now, but he was interested in Zane’s reasons for being so adamant about not marrying Missy. “So, no ring for you and Missy? I figured you two would have been next. Why haven’t you proposed yet?”

  Zane snorted. “Because my father wants me to.”

  Jon laughed. Zane always had done the opposite of what his father wanted. It was what made him join the SEALs. “Understood. How does she feel about it though?”

  “She’s cool with it. Her name being my new tattoo helped.”

  “Your new tattoo?” Jon had to think that a tattoo was more of a commitment than a wedding ring, so it probably did make Missy happy. He couldn’t copy Zane now. Too bad he hadn’t thought of it first. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Nowhere you’ll ever see.”

  “Okay . . . ” Jon let that disturbing information pass and said, “Talk to you later.”

  “Later.” As Zane disconnected, Jon heard the alert for his messaging app.

  All thoughts of marriage and tattoos fled. His contact—the ISIS recruiter—was reaching out.

  With a shaky hand that belied his usual cool demeanor, Jon hit the buttons to read the message.

  Prepare. Travel instructions to follow.

  Things were starting to move and Jon had to be one hundred percent ready.

  He glanced at the closed bedroom door. Inside that room slept the woman he was going to have to leave without explanation.

  Clenching his jaw he strode, determined, toward the bedroom.

  His travel instructions most likely wouldn’t come in the next half hour or so and too bad if they did. He wasn’t going without loving Ali one more time before he left.

  If things went south, it could possibly be the final time they’d be together ever.

  He turned the knob and pushed the door open, closing it quietly before walking as silently as he could across the carpeted room.

  Being stealthy was kind of pointless since he had every intention of waking her, but he’d rather do it with his kiss than the slam of a door. Hopefully, she’d be more receptive to the disruption to her sleep that way.

  He slid beneath the sheets and across the wide bed until he was pressed against her warm body. He ran his hands over her curves and couldn’t silence the groan that escaped from his throat.

  Brushing his lips over her mouth in the dim light of dawn, he pushed the hem of her nightshirt up and over her hips.

  She drew in a breath as she woke. “What are you doing?”

  “Making love to you.” Rolling on top of her, he pressed one of his knees between her legs and further proved his intention.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “Okay.”

  God, he was going to miss her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ali woke to brilliant sunlight streaming through the window and an empty side of the bed where Jon should have been.

  No surprise there. He was usually up before she was. Even when she had to work, it didn’t require she get up as early as Jon usually woke.

  The good news was he was so quiet when he got up she rarely heard him. He was like a ninja.

  A ninja who’d made coffee.

  She breathed in the aroma of the freshly brewed beverage that permeated the closed bedroom door.

  The combination of the tantalizing smell and the fact Jon had been sweet enough to make coffee motivated her to get out of bed even though it was her day off and she technically didn’t have to get up.

  She shuffled toward the kitchen, where she found Jon and said, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” He came forward and pulled her to him, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m glad you’re up.”

  “Mm, and I’m glad you made coffee.” She moved toward the cabinet.

  “I got it.” Reaching over her head, Jon took down a mug from the high shelf and handed it to her, saving her from having to balance on tiptoe and grab a handle with her fingertips.

  “Thanks.”

  That was just one of the problems of being a petite woman in the home set up by a tall man.

  When—if—he ever made a commitment to her, the location of the coffee mugs would be the first thing she’d change.

  She was just filling the mug when she noticed Jon hovering. She turned to him and waited.

  It didn’t take long before he said, “So I’ve got this job for GAPS that’s been kind of on hold but I think things are about to start moving on it.”

  It was more than what he usually told her about an upcoming job.

  Sure, in the old days when the company was first beginning and their biggest job was working security for some rich people Jon wasn’t quite so secretive. But now GAPS’s jobs entailed government contracts so she rarely was allowed to know anything.

  Sometimes she’d pick up tidbits after an assignment was over, but rarely before.

  “Oh? Okay.”

  When he pressed his lips together, she waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “Once it starts I won’t be able to make contact. I don’t know for how long, but it could be awhile.”

  Frowning, she turned to face him fully, mug in hand. “Jon, this isn’t new.”

  “I know. I just wanted you to be aware. And not to worry.”

  She let out a snort. Not worry. Sure.

  He tipped his head to the side, a small smile bowing his lips. “Okay, try not to worry too much.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good.” He pulled her into a tight hug. She had to grip her mug tighter and only hug him back with one arm.

  When he moved back, cupped her chin and just gazed at her, she had to wonder what was up with him.

  Finally, he pressed a long slow deep kiss to her lips before pulling away.

  He took a step back and let out a breath. “I need to get going to the office and take care of a few things.”

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  She watch
ed as he walked to the closet and emerged with the mysterious full duffle bag that had been located there since she’d known him.

  He opened the front door and paused just inside to glance back. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  After a second, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

  Life with Jon had always been full of oddities. This morning’s interaction only reinforced that. Though she had to wonder what had him acting extra peculiar today.

  Whenever he got back they’d have to have a talk. If he was taking jobs with GAPS that were as dangerous as when he’d been a SEAL, they needed to discuss it.

  He’d left the military, but it appeared from how he was acting he hadn’t left any of the danger behind.

  After that realization, she really was worried.

  Sighing, she topped off her coffee, grabbed a banana from the counter and headed into the living room.

  It had been a long time since she’d indulged in a pajama day. Today seemed like the perfect time to veg on the sofa in front of the TV all day long. She reached for the remote control and settled in for a day of self indulgence.

  Many hours and an entire season of the show she was binge watching later the ringing of Ali’s cell phone broke into her enjoyment of her Netflix marathon.

  She hit pause on the show and reached for the phone . . . and frowned at the name on the caller ID.

  Zane? That was odd. He didn’t usually call her. Maybe Jon was with him and his battery was dead.

  Only one way to find out. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ali. It’s Zane. Sorry to bother you but Jon’s not answering his cell. Is he with you?”

  “No. I’m home alone. He left early this morning and told me to not worry if he didn’t come home because of that GAPS assignment that’s been on hold.”

  “What? What assignment?”

  Ali was too annoyed with Jon’s hours and GAPS in general to want to deal with this conversation or Zane now. Especially not in the middle of the season finale of the show she’d devoted the whole morning to.

  She sniffed at his question. “Seriously? Come on, Zane. You know he doesn’t tell me anything. You’re his partner. Don’t you know what assignments he’s working on?”

  “I thought I did but apparently not.” The sound of Zane hitting keys loudly replaced his voice momentarily. “No emails or messages either.”

  It was oddly comforting that Jon was as elusive with his business partner regarding his comings and goings as he was with her.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is, he took that overnight bag he keeps packed with him.”

  “He took his go-bag?” Zane’s shock was apparent in the rise in his volume.

  Meanwhile, she wished these guys would remember she didn’t speak military-ease. “I don’t know what it’s called. It’s kind of like a duffle bag stuffed full with something and it’s always in the closet by the front door.”

  Zane mumbled a cuss. “What else did he say?”

  If she was going to be interrogated she might as well relax. This might take awhile. Ali flopped back onto the sofa and relayed word for word, step by step, her interaction with Jon that morning. When she was done, Zane let out an audible breath tinged with another obscenity. His reaction was starting to worry her.

  “Zane, what’s going on?” She hadn’t been more worried about Jon’s work than usual, until this discussion with Zane. Now she was starting to panic.

  If a fellow SEAL was upset about Jon’s behavior, there had to be cause for concern.

  He paused a beat before saying, “It’s nothing, Ali. Just Jon being Jon. Trying to handle everything on his own and not keeping me in the loop. I’m sure it’s just a run of the mill assignment he didn’t want to bother me with while I’m in D.C.. It’s just hard to be his partner when I don’t know everything that’s happening in the company, you know?”

  She let out a short laugh. “Welcome to my world. Anyway, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do the same.”

  “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later then. Good bye—”

  Zane had already disconnected by the time she finished saying the final word. That was typical Zane, immediately on to the next thing, she was sure.

  These guys were all too intense. She had to wonder if the military made them that way, or if this type of man just gravitated to service on their own.

  It was the old chicken and egg debate, and she wasn’t going to solve it today.

  She picked up the remote with the futile hope that the sticky situation the fictional characters on TV were in could distract her from her real life. At least for a little while.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Tell me, why does an American want to fight for the Islamic State?” Abu Jamal Ahmad leaned against the beat-up vehicle and crossed his arms.

  Beneath the blazing Turkish sun, Jon felt the full weight of the stare the man leveled on him.

  In spite of the scrutiny, Jon remained calm and cool. “It’s my understanding a lot of Americans have come to fight before me. I follow in their footsteps.”

  “True. But why do you want to be a holy warrior? A custodian of the one true faith? I’m told that you, Jon Smithwick, are a man who has fought and killed in the name of the crusader infidels.” The man said the final two words—ISIS’s description of the American government and military—like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Schooled in tempering his expression, Jon didn’t react to being addressed by the fake surname printed on his forged paperwork. He’d prepared long and hard to be able to be Jon Smithwick, without thought, without hesitation.

  Jon had researched this. Studied the interviews with Americans who were radicalized. Their histories. Their motives. From all he’d read and heard, he’d concocted a backstory for himself—or rather for Jon Smithwick. A plausible reason why a man with time in the military would want to join ISIS.

  “That’s exactly why.” He was Jon Smithwick now as he explained, with conviction, his reasons. “I have followed their every order for most of my adult life. I killed for them. Many have. But afterward, when they can no longer use us for their agenda, they abandon us with little or no support. They asked for my life and gave nothing in return. I’ve lost faith in the men running the military and the country I risked my life for.”

  The man who was to be his guide from Turkey to the Syrian border seemed pleased by the answer. Jon could see that clearly in his expression.

  One more obstacle between Jon and his end goal fell away.

  “I’ve heard that before from Americans who come to fight with us. We see on your television and internet reports of men who were once great fighters for your country left to beg in the streets.”

  “Yes. It’s true.” Jon nodded agreeing with that reality while wishing it weren’t true.

  “We welcome a man of your expertise. In fact, because of your years in your military, they have changed our plans for you.”

  Change, in this case, was not good. “They?” Jon asked.

  “Our—what you would call human resources department. We can best make use of a man of your knowledge to advise us how to combat those trying to retake control of the land the caliphate rightfully occupies.”

  Skipping over the shock of the fact ISIS had a human resources department, Jon’s mind worked as he reviewed the clues as to where he might be sent.

  Retake the land the caliphate rightfully occupies.

  That could be Syria or Iraq.

  “You were a soldier in the army, no?” the man asked, interrupting Jon’s train of thought.

  Jon’s background for his false identity listed him as having served in the regular Navy. Not exactly a lie but not quite the truth. That Abu Jamal had mentioned the wrong branch of service could be a test. Or Jon could be paranoid.

  “No. Not the Army. The Navy. I was a sailor.” Trying to not look too concerned about the change in plans, Jon decided to ask a questi
on of his own in hopes of getting the location out of his escort. “So I won’t be going to Syria to learn and train?”

  It was well known that new recruits had to go through three months of training, which is why Jon had come expecting to be away at least that long.

  Three months during which no one except for a small handful of men in the organization who hired him would know where he was or what he was doing. Not Ali. Not Zane or Rick or Chris. Not his parents.

  As far as he knew there wasn’t even a paper trail of this assignment or his whereabouts for anyone to follow should he go missing. And even if there was, it was wrong now because plans had changed.

  “You are more valuable elsewhere. I think you don’t require the physical training that our other fighters are in need of.” Abu Jamal smiled as his gaze dropped down Jon’s body.

  Jon nodded his thanks even as he realized his error in planning.

  Physically, he still looked like he did when he was in the Navy. He should have come here looking less like a SEAL and more like a man who enjoyed the sofa and beer too much since getting out of the military.

  At least one thing he’d done to prepare for this assignment had worked out perfectly. Jon ran a hand over his face and felt the extreme length of the untrimmed beard he had grown in. It had come in nicely. He fit right in with the jihadists to whom facial hair was so important.

  More than important actually. It was forbidden for males to shave their faces or to cut their hair. It was a symbol of their religious dedication.

  Meanwhile his own beard and hair had gotten so long it had become nothing more than a hot annoyance for Jon.

  Not to mention that Ali had really hated it . . .

  Thoughts of her would derail him. As his stomach twisted he pushed all the memories of her back where they belonged, and firmly locked the door to that compartment in his mind.

  He’d get the job done and get home. He was ready for this. He had cash in various currencies, not one but two burner phones and various forms of his fake ID, which included a picture showing him sporting full beard. That all had been provided by his government contact in the states.