Bad Boy SEALs

by Scarlett Avery

  Our plan works. We save the princess from a nasty and embarrassing fall. Brandon and I exchange a complicit look as we help her to her feet.

  “Are you okay?” he asks as we steady her.

  “I'm not sure."

  "Does anything hurt?" he presses.

  She shakes her head. “I don't think so.”

  "That's the most important," Brandon says.

  “Wow. That was close. I nearly killed myself. I can already read the headlines, ‘DEATH BY LOUBOUTIN’,” she laughs. I’ve fucked my fair share of extremely wealthy women to know she's referring to her designer heels. Even though she has a British accent, she pronounces the brand like some of the French girls I’ve sampled. “That would’ve been a royal catastrophe,” she huffs.

  “We would’ve never allowed that to happen,” Brandon retorts.

  Since she’s still a little wobbly on her legs, we’re both holding on to her. Suddenly, she flings her long hair back and the ends whip against my face. She looks up at my best friend.

  “Did you know you have insanely beautiful blue eyes?” the brunette asks.

  “You like my eyes?” Brandon smiles. Player.

  "They’re gorgeous," she says.

  "Thank you, sweetheart." Not so fast, buddy.

  “You’re very cute, you know?” she gushes. Brandon grins wide. She tries to take a step forward, but falters. “Oh, God.” She sucks in a breath, her ankle twisting slightly. “These shoes look good,” her eyes drop to her feet. Brandon and I follow her gaze. “but they’re treacherous to walk in. Maybe I should switch to flats or ballerinas,” she concludes.

  Over my dead body. Where did that come from? I don’t even know this woman.

  “Careful," Brandon tells her. "You don't have to go very far, we're right here." At least he hasn’t excluded me entirely.

  "I was just trying to get a better look at you," she explains.

  "You like what you see, huh?" he says.

  My God, the man can be arrogant.

  “Hell, yeah,” a few girls behind us holler.

  Aware he’s elicited a reaction from the crowd, Brandon turns around and flashes a smile. The women go wild. We’ve only been here for a few minutes and already he has a fan club. He turns his gaze and focuses on me. He gives me a self-assured wink and I roll my eyes.

  “I guess whoever said that answered on my behalf,” the brunette laughs.

  “You flatter me much,” Brandon grins even wider now. Damn, he’s laying it on thick.

  “Whoa. You’re blinding me with that dazzling smile of yours, mister,” the princess says.

  “Look who’s talking,” Brandon flirts back.

  "Is there such a thing as being too good-looking? If so, you're it."

  She's hilarious.

  “You’re pretty sweet yourself, sugar,” Brandon puckers his lips as he raises an eyebrow.

  “Yes, she is.” So far, I’ve remained silent, but the need to make my presence known is overpowering.

  The brunette’s gaze whips towards me. It's as if it’s only now that she realizes that two guys are holding onto her. Her eyes land on the lower part of my jacket before she takes me in. She looks up and up and up. Finally, our eyes meet.

  Wow!

  I’ve seen green eyes before, but hers sparkle like gemstones. Her glazed gaze is a dead giveaway. Someone is having too much fun tonight. I’m sure when she’s sober the brilliance in her eyes match that of the most expensive emeralds on the market. If they’re this luminous under the city lights, I can only imagine what they look like under the sunlight or better still, first thing when she wakes up in the morning. The thought hardens my cock. Fuck. This girl is even more gorgeous up close than I thought. Her tousled hair, smeared eye makeup and swollen lips—still painted with a hint of color from faded lipstick—aren’t helping my cause.

  “God, you’re tall,” she exclaims. Even in her skyscraper heels, she’s tiny next to Brandon and me. “Did you know that?” Her eyes widen.

  I can't help but laugh. "Yes, I did. I think I’ve been this tall for as long as I can remember."

  “And you look so incredibly strong.” She pokes my bicep with her free hand. “You must work out or something.”

  “I keep fit,” I smile.

  “Hmph. That’s good.” She pauses, seemingly looking for her words. This girl hit the bottle hard tonight. She’s definitely going to feel it tomorrow. “Your eyes are as blue as his. I guess the two of you are brothers?"

  "We’re best friends."

  “Damn, you're cute too…” She inhales sharply, “in a rugged don’t-fuck-with-me kind of way. I like that. I like that a lot."

  Clapping erupts from behind us, reminding me that we still have an audience.

  “Tell it like it is, girlfriend!” someone shouts.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” someone else chimes in.

  “Oh yeah!” comes from far back.

  A round of laughs raises into the night.

  "Thank you," I say.

  In any other circumstance, this conversation would lead to something, but unfortunately, the princess we just rescued is off limits. Neither Brandon nor I engage with a woman unless she’s in full control of her faculties. Anything else would be wrong.

  “Are you single?" Her question catches me off guard.

  “I—”

  “Because I am,” she interrupts without giving me a chance to answer.

  Good to know.

  Brandon’s eyebrows hit his forehead. With those three words, she has his undivided attention.

  Forget about laughs, the brunette’s friends are now stomping their feet and chanting, “You go, girl,” over and over again. Yeah, this is definitely more excitement than I bargained for.

  “It just so hap—”

  “What am I saying?” she interrupts again. “Of course you’re not,” she resumes her monologue. “All the good ones are always taken, aren’t they? I hope it isn’t the case with you.” A different time and place and I wouldn’t be standing out here holding her like this. I’d be answering all of her questions in a more private setting. “But if you are—and why wouldn’t you be, I mean look at you”—her eyes travel down the length of my torso—“You’re fucking hot.”

  There's a collective round of whistling all around us. I didn’t expect that from this group. This girl is a trip. I’m willing to bet it’s a very different story when she doesn’t have this much alcohol in her system. “Anyhow, if you have a girlfriend, I get it. I hope your friend over here isn’t seeing anyone.” She turns her attention back to Brandon.

  He flashes me a triumphant grin before focusing on her. “Little sugar, for you I’m—”

  The banter between the three of us is flirty and harmless until a man shouts, "Move away from the lady! Right now!"

  The group of girls behind us gasp. From their reaction and the menacing tone of shouty guy, I’d say this isn’t good.

  I turn my head slightly to see who’s behind me barking unfriendly commands. That’s when I hear the distinctive sound of a round being chambered. Shit. I guess there was a second team after all. Damn, I'm slipping.

  "Eyes front, mate!” the guy behind me snaps.

  There are a lot of great things about traveling and discovering the world. Leaving the Second Amendment behind isn’t one of them.

  Not wanting to upset the man holding a gun to my head, I do as I’m told, just in time to see a big guy approaching Brandon with a piece pointing at his head. "You too. Let go of the lady and move out of the way," the second guy says.

  “If you’ll allow us to make sure she’s okay and that she can stand on her own two feet—” Brandon’s attempt to pacify things goes awry.

  “Are you fucking deaf?” the guy behind Brandon barks.

  I shake my head and roll my eyes at the situation. Brandon does the same. That simple move triggers the guy standing behind me. “I said, move away from the lady. Do you need a fucking translator? You don’t speak English or are y
ou just plain stupid?" he shouts louder. “Maybe it’s a little of both,” he smirks. "Don't worry, mate, the police will be here soon. They’re experts in translation." The two guys snicker.

  I hope he’s just saying that for show. As much as I want to reply, I bite back a sharp retort. This isn't the time or place to prove my bravado. Brandon and I are definitely at a disadvantage. Not to mention that it would be a shame for things to get ugly in front of this girl and her entourage.

  I don't know who she is, but clearly she's someone very important. It’s either that, or there's a bigshot inside one of these buildings that requires this level of security.

  "For God’s sake, what are you doing, Officer Bridgestone?" the brunette asks. “Put that stupid thing away. The same goes for you, Officer Padgett. This isn’t a joke, you know.”

  "Madam, these two hoodlums have no right to be this close to you,” the guy I now know as Officer Bridgestone says.

  “Hoodlums?” Brandon and I mouth at each other.

  “What are you talking about?” the brunette asks.

  “These thugs aren’t supposed to be here. They’re trespassing. On top of that, they’re harassing you.”

  What?

  In the span of a few seconds we went from being hoodlums to thugs. Rich. Never mind the fact that we’re both wearing eight thousand-dollar British tailor-made suits, or that Brandon and I are wearing watches that cost twice as much as what these two make in a year. I won’t bore you with how much these hand-made Italian shoes cost. The overnight shipping to New York alone is obscene.

  "Are you blind?” she asks, her tone irate.

  “Yeah!” the chorus of girls says in agreement.

  “But, madam—”

  There aren’t many options here. Diplomacy is the only way out. I clear my throat. "My friend and I didn’t do anything wrong, Officer Bridgestone.”

  “That’s not the way I see it, moron,” he retorts, pressing his gun at the base of my skull. Fuck, what I’d give to be able to teach this asshole a lesson.

  Okay, so we don’t have a formal invitation, but that's no reason to pull out a gun and to be this rude. We were just being helpful.

  “I’m telling the truth. A woman trips, we leap into action,” I explain.

  “That’s our job, sir.” Clearly, you’re sleeping at the wheel. “You two idiots are—”

  “Officer Bridgestone, can't you see they’re not hurting me?” The brunette huffs impatiently. “On the contrary. I’d be lying flat on my face if it weren’t for these two.”

  I have to remember this guy’s name so I can track him down later and kick his ass for being this ignorant. If his job is to protect her and recognize danger when it lurks, he’s failing miserably.

  "Madam, I have strict orders from—”

  The doors behind us burst open, commanding everyone’s attention.

  "What on earth is going on out here?" a voice demands.

  In the silence of the night the click of her heels against the pavement is audible. Suddenly, a tall blonde appears in the corner of my eye. Her short sleek bob, bright red lips and slender body screams model. The way she sashays with confidence is testament to that.

  “For Christ sakes.” She’s now standing right in front of us. “I go to the kitchen for five minutes to make sure that dessert will be served on time and all hell breaks loose.” Her hands go flying in the air before landing loudly against her thighs. “In the name of God, why do you two have your guns pulled out?” That question is for the officers. “And who the hell are these guys?” she asks, her gaze flicking from Brandon’s to mine. “I need answers and I need them right now.”

  She’s a bossy one.

  The authoritarian vixen takes a few steps closer to us. “Honey, what the hell happened?” she asks the woman Brandon and I are still unwilling to let go of. “One second it’s all fun and games and next, this.” The blonde opens her arms dramatically.

  “I’m too bloody upset to talk,” the brunette spits out. Now isn’t the time to clam up on us, sweetheart. “This is exactly the type of travesty I wanted to avoid tonight.”

  “I need more than that to go by, honey,” the blonde says.

  I open my mouth to smooth things out and make sure that Brandon and I don’t end up spending the night in jail, but I stop when one of the women in the crowd steps forward. She lifts her hand up at me and says, “I got this.”

  I give her a quick nod of appreciation. She winks back at me. Hopefully she’ll act as our negotiator. Maybe things will turn out in our favor after all. In a hushed voice, she briefs the tall blonde. Of course, while watching this unfold, a gun is still pointed to my head. Brandon isn’t fairing much better.

  The blonde nods her head with her lips pursed as she soaks up the information.

  "Thank you, April," she finally says. She turns her attention back to us and folds her arms over her chest. She taps an impatient red stiletto heel against the pavement. “Seriously, Officer Bridgestone? You and Officer Padgett are playing RoboCop with two gentlemen who came to your client’s rescue?”

  “I beg your pardon, madam, but from where we were standing it didn’t quite look that way. We thought they were harming her.”

  For the love of God.

  I’m not sure if these guys are former police or military, but if they were under my command, I’d fucking make their life miserable for being incompetent fools.

  “Are they carrying guns? Is that why yours are out?”

  “Well, we haven’t checked yet. We—”

  “So, you’re harassing two innocent men?”

  I like this girl. She doesn’t take bullshit.

  “Not exactly, madam.” Officer Padgett is the one to answer that question.

  “Are they threatening your client? Hurting her? Trying to kidnap her? All of the above, Officer Padgett?”

  The officer shakes his head. “They aren’t supposed to be here,” he retorts.

  "Let me guess. They look like demented terrorists. That's it? What gave it away? The very expensive suits? Is that it?" the blonde presses.

  "Of course not." This time Officer Bridgestone answers.

  I'm dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of the situation. If you were to look up ‘absurdity’ on Google, these morons’ photos would come up.

  "What about the other four guys who are part of your team? I thought they were supposed to be posted at the door? You promised two in front of the Warwick Club and two in front of the Champagne Club. Where the heck are they?" the blonde's voice goes up several octaves.

  "I think...” Officer Bridgestone hesitates. “Well... I'm not sure. We heard the commotion out here and we came running.”

  This guy is pathetic. No leader with a shred of dignity would use words like, ‘I think’, or ‘I'm not sure’.

  “This is a disgrace." Damn right it is. "Officers, when her father asks me how this special evening unfolded for his only daughter, do you really want me to tell him this,” the blonde opens her arms theatrically, “happened?”

  “Well, no—” Officer Bridgestone isn’t nearly as arrogant as he was a few minutes ago.

  “Put those stupid guns away,” the blonde barks.

  “Madam—”

  “Now!” The officers still hesitate. The blonde pulls out her phone. “I have her father on speed dial. Do you really want me to call him?”

  The blonde has a lot of power. That much is clear. I'm itching to know who she is so I can thank her for saving our asses. While I'm at it, I'll definitely find out how I can see the sexy brunette again.

  “All right, madam.” The officers concede.

  About fucking time.

  Officer Padgett lowers his gun. Brandon sighs in relief. It doesn’t take long for his colleague to follow suit. Thank God. The blonde is as persuasive as any top-notch hostage negotiator I’ve seen in action. Kudos to her.

  “Come on, honey, it’s time for us go back inside.” The blonde waves her friend over. The brunette hesitates at first, but eve
ntually, she gives in. Damn. She takes a few steps away from us, but she suddenly stops. She turns around and stares at us with puppy eyes.

  “Thank you,” she mouths.

  “No problem,” Brandon and I mouth back.

  “Let’s go,” the blonde commands. The princess doesn’t argue. “You have to say goodbye to your new friends. As much as I’d like to invite them to join us, I can't. It’s girls only tonight. No boys—or super-hot men—allowed. I gave your father my word. He’d have me skinned alive if I were to break my—”

  Blaring sirens and blue flashing lights cut her off midsentence.

  Fuck, this isn’t how I had envisioned my first night in London.

  CHAPTER 2

  Brandon

  After taking the world of technology by storm in the US, we’ve crossed the pond to London dead set on making our mark on this side of the Atlantic. There’s nothing quite like stepping into uncharted territory. That’s the kind of thrill Holden and I live for. If today is any indication, the next few months are going to be harrowing, challenging, and unpredictable—just the way we like it.

  After a mid-afternoon meeting that went according to plan, I decide to come back to the penthouse instead of going to the office. Holden had already texted me to let me know he was doing the same thing. As I stroll through the living room on my way to the large kitchen, I see him hunched over his laptop.

  "Hey," I cheer, tapping him on the back.

  “Hey, Royal.” He turns around and smiles up at me. "How was the meeting with Secretary Houghton?”

  "It went great.” I drop my briefcase on the marble counter before removing my jacket and placing it on the back of the high stool next to me. I take a seat across from my best friend. "She's as excited as we are.” I rub my hands together. "She did warn me that it might take a few more internal meetings on their end, but she’ll get back to us with dates of our next meeting."

  Secretary Janice Houghton is our liaison at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. They’re basically the department that takes care of all the UK embassies around the world. For the past eight months, she’s been working tirelessly to get us our first meeting. After a lot of back-and-forth, we’re in the final trenches.