She eyed him cautiously, almost as if she didn’t believe his words. “You have to promise me you won’t do the thing.” She flicked her ponytail to her back. “And don’t you dare use those dimples against me right now. You know what they do to me.”
“Same as the puppy dog eyes you give me,” he countered and deepened his smile. “I’ll use my ammunition all day long.”
“Charlie,” she scolded. “Promise.”
He rolled his eyes and crossed his fingers behind his back. “I won’t do the thing.”
“You go overboard when it comes to keeping me safe, and I—”
“I’m not that bad.” Maybe he was, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her.
“You had an entire SEAL Team show up on my date the last time you were overseas.”
“Because you were going out with that douchebag MMA guy who has been known to hit his girlfriends, and he needed to know if he laid a hand on you, he’d die.”
“I’ve never seen a professional fighter piss himself before.” A smile pulled at her lips.
“And you’ll never see it again if I have anything to do with it. You shouldn’t give guys like that your time.”
“You’re jealous.” Adriana had one dimple. One beautiful dimple in her right cheek that popped whenever she got embarrassed. “Not of dating me, I mean,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Of his profession.” She waved her hand through the air. “He gets to beat people up for a living.”
“And I shoot people.” He was trying to come across as some badass, but she knew him too damn well.
“You hate killing, don’t give me that.”
“Anyway. You’ve got to stop dating assholes, babe.” Or hell, stop dating period. He’d suggest a monastery, but then his dirty thoughts about her might secure him a spot in hell, and he’d prefer his soul make a beeline toward the Big Man in the sky when it was his time.
“They aren’t all assholes.” She tightened her ponytail and tucked the loose strands behind her diamond-studded ears. She was wearing the half-carat diamonds he’d given her last Christmas. Bought with his hard-earned money, not his pop’s dough. “And you’ve gone and distracted me. How can I trust you won’t go into protective-guy mode on me in my new job?”
“I promised I’ll be good.” The lift of her perfectly sculpted brows meant she didn’t believe him, but he knew her well enough to know she didn’t mind his protection as much as she let on.
“And I know you had your fingers crossed behind your back when you made that promise.”
His gaze whipped to her backside as she poured their drinks. Her low-slung jeans were snug, and that particular pair always managed to catch his eye.
She was his best friend, damn it. He shouldn’t be checking out her ass. But in his defense, the woman had an ass like no other. And maybe he needed the distraction right now.
But . . .
He cupped the back of his head and shifted toward the plain white wall that at some point probably needed a picture on it.
Grandma. Grandma. Grandma.
He had to stop the blood flow shooting through his dick at breakneck speed.
Wrong time. It’d always be the wrong time for anything other than friendship between them, though, even if he wanted more.
A few breaths later, he faced her. “If you fall for one of those shade-wearing-Secret—”
“I have training. Georgia then D.C. I’ll be too busy to date.” She handed him his glass.
“Good.”
“Well, I plan on continuing to drink. Can I crash here?” She plopped on the couch and kicked off her Nikes.
“When have you ever had to ask?” He joined her and stretched his legs out.
“I didn’t want to interrupt some sort of pre-deployment shag fest you might have planned.”
“No ‘shag fest’ on the schedule. And what, are you British now?” He fought a smile.
“I wish.” She fanned her face. “Love the accent.”
“So, that’s why you dated that MMA douche? Because of his accent?” He’d really hated that guy. Well, he hated every guy she went out with.
“Oh, no. It was for his body.” She tipped back more of her drink, then a light moan left her mouth when she mirrored his position, extending her long legs. “Driving four hours nonstop—I’m sore.” She squeezed her right thigh, her hand brushing his leg in the process. “I need to get out of these jeans, too. You still have some of my stuff here?”
“Nah, I chucked it.”
“I’m gonna kick your sarcastic ass in about two point five.”
He held up his arm as if checking the time on a watch that wasn’t there. “How many threats has that been since you’ve been here?”
She flicked a finger in the air between them and squinted in an effort to be threatening, which on her only looked cute.
“Your stuff is in the guest room closet where it always is.”
“But you know what I really want, right?” She purred her question in a far too sexy voice for his comfort.
They’d been nothing more than friends for years. You’d think his dick would’ve learned a thing or two about boundaries. Guess not.
“I’ll be right back.” He dropped his feet to the floor and went to his bedroom.
When he came back, he halted outside the living room at the sight of Adriana peeling her shirt over her head. The music channel on his TV playing now, too.
She faced him with her give-me arms. “My favorite shirt.”
He didn’t move. He was too sidetracked by her black lacy bra and the fact it barely held her breasts in place. “You and I are close, but maybe change in the other room?” He’d done his best to loosen the words free without sounding like a pubescent teenage boy.
“What?” She tossed her shirt aside. “I mean, you’ve even seen me buck naked before.”
“That was years ago, and it was your fault. You were drunk and strutting around naked singing an Ace of Base song.”
He tossed her the basketball jersey he’d had since his college ball days. She pulled it over her head—thank God—but then started shimmying out of her jeans, kicking them in the air once she’d managed to get them off. Damn it. The liquor was speeding through her veins and steering her into the danger zone. The zone where she lost all inhibition and good sense. The zone where she had a tendency to flirt with him.
“Come on, you’re my best friend.” She removed her bra from the sleeve of the jersey like a magician.
She had underwear on, right? God, he hoped so. Of course, now he was wondering if they matched her bra.
“Can’t handle a little skin?” She puckered her lips and kissed the air, then closed the gap between them and rested her hand over his heart.
She had his back to the hall wall. Nowhere to go. But hell, was there any place he’d rather be?
“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the beat of his heart intensified under her palm. “You still not a fan of country music? This guy is pretty good, you have to admit.”
Damned if he knew who the hell was singing right now. He could barely hear anything over the thundering of his pulse.
It was much easier to resist temptation when they were separated by an ocean. And that was the only perk to leaving her.
Her lips parted as she stared up at him. He’d seen this look before.
She let her defenses down whenever she drank the hard stuff. She also became vulnerable. But hell, so did he, or he wouldn’t be contemplating making a move right now—a move from which there’d be no turning back.
“Why haven’t you kissed me since that night?” she whispered.
This wasn’t her first time asking about the kiss, but she only uttered the question when she’d been drinking. Nothing like liquid courage.
And he’d always issued the same response. “You know why.” He eyed her long neck, noticing the flutter of her pulse there.
“There’s a list as long as my arm,” she murmured, her voice sultry. Seductive.
Part of him w
anted to throw the list to hell and let it burn.
Maybe he did want to grab hold of her shoulders and press his mouth to hers. See how she tasted. To have her lips part for him in invitation.
But this was Addy.
He couldn’t lose her friendship. It was a friendship he’d die to protect.
But he also couldn’t stop himself from allowing his gaze to lower to her breasts, which were hidden by the jersey. And to the rise and fall of her chest.
“Charlie.” The soft sound of his name from her lips forced his eyes back to hers.
We can’t. But he refused to verbalize it because for a moment he wanted to live in a world of can. A world where her mom hadn’t been taking her last breath while he’d kissed her the night they’d met at a high school party.
She flinched at the sound of a sudden knock at the door.
A hard, heavy . . . military knock.
He’d removed the bell because he hated when it sent the neighbor’s poodle into a barking frenzy.
Three more knocks from someone who sounded like they could easily breach a door.
“Your Jeep is outside, so I’m hoping you’re home.” He recognized the deep voice calling out on the other side of the door. Luke Scott.
What the hell was Luke doing there?
“I have to answer that.” He forced himself to move, but when she caught hold of his arm, he halted and peered back at her.
“It was the alcohol. And the long drive.” She blinked a few times. “The excitement. I’m sorry.”
She was apologizing for something that didn’t happen. Maybe in her mind, the moment had been as real as it had been in his head.
“I should—”
“Get that.” She released his arm.
“I’m here,” he called out, so Luke didn’t leave. “You mind not being half-naked in front of a SEAL buddy of mine?” he asked with a smile, causing her one dimple to appear.
“Be in the guest room.” She snatched her clothes and hurried from the room.
“Did I interrupt something?” Luke asked when Knox opened the door.
Only something that probably needed interrupting. “I have a friend over,” he answered and gave him a quick one-armed hug. “Come in.”
“This isn’t a personal call,” he said. “Mind if we talk in my car?”
“Of course.” He slipped on his loafers and followed Luke to the black four-door RAM parallel-parked out front. “What’s up?” he asked once inside as rain began pelting the street in thick and heavy sheets.
Luke turned in the driver’s seat and draped his wrist over the wheel. “I put off this visit because I didn’t know if I should even be here, to be honest.”
His pulse pricked at his words. “Everyone okay?”
“Everyone’s fine.” He heaved out a deep breath. The man almost looked nervous.
He’d been with Luke at BUD/S. And so, Knox knew Luke well enough to know the man didn’t get nervous.
“Yo, brother, you’ve got me worried here.”
“I’m gonna ask something of you that’s not going to be easy, for you in particular. My sister normally travels with me on these visits, but I wanted to meet with you on my own.”
“Sister?” What the hell was he talking about? And now his heart was ramping up to the highest of possible beats. “So, drop the bomb on me. What is it?”
“I heard rumors you’re thinking about heading to Green Team to possibly be a Tier One guy. So, asking a man who’s broken almost every record in Navy history to quit isn’t an easy thing to do.”
Knox sat up taller. “Quit? You wanna run that by me again?”
Luke’s shoulders slouched. Again, not something he’d witnessed before. “I want you to quit so you can join a different team. Everyone will be made to think you left the SEALs. You’d still technically be one, but no one would know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He scratched at the back of his head, a growing discomfort stretching across his chest.
Not even ten minutes ago, he’d nearly kissed Adriana, one foot poised and ready to step across the friendship line. And now, here he was sitting with a legend, a legend who was asking him to quit?
“My sister, Jessica, left the CIA and pitched an idea to the president about forming a black ops group to run covert ops without the knowledge of Congress.”
“Aren’t Tier One guys pretty much running off-the-books ops already?”
“Only with government approval. We’d bypass all the red tape and get the shit done that needs getting done without waiting for some dickhead behind a desk to approve it. Er, no offense,” he said, probably referring to one particular dickhead—Knox’s senator father.
“And the president approved this?”
“Yeah, only a few high-ups will know about us, and to avoid notice, we’ll mostly be self-funded.”
Knox almost laughed. “Self-funded black ops missions?”
Luke held a hand in the air between them as if to say, I know, I know.
“This sounds like some Hollywood stuff.”
“No one—absolutely no one outside the team—can know what we really do. You’d have to keep this from everyone and sign some NDAs. POTUS gave approval for ten guys. I had hoped for twelve, so we could have two teams of six, but ten will work. Five on Bravo and five on Echo.”
“And you want me?” He leaned back in his seat and looked out the front window, the tap-tap-tap of rain fading into the background as he grappled with what Luke was asking of him.
“I gotta be honest, as much as I wanted to recruit you . . . your father being a senator gave me some reservations. It could put you in a shit spot with the press wondering why you dropped out of the SEALs to go into private security.”
He didn’t give a flying fuck about the press, or what his father thought. “My dad and I still aren’t on the best of terms. But uh, private security?”
“It’s how we’ll get most of our funding, plus, it provides us with a handy alias,” he answered. “My sister is a bit of a cyber genius, so she already has ideas about how to score some major cyber protection contracts with corporations under our alias. Plus, we can do some bodyguard gigs in between ops to make money and keep up with appearances. We couldn’t think of anything badass, so my sister named us Scott and Scott Securities.” He grumbled. “I’d prefer something else, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“And everyone we work with will be Teamguys?”
“Yeah, and then we’ll hire some retired SEALs to run the day-to-day stuff for the alias when we’re not around, but they can’t know about our ops for POTUS.”
“Shit, man.”
“No more deployments,” he added.
Well, at least he could keep a better eye on Adriana if he wasn’t overseas all the time.
“We can tell the media you suffered an injury, and you were forced into medical leave, maybe. POTUS can come up with something. But I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and if you say no, I won’t hate you for it.” He lifted a shoulder. “I won’t exactly love you, either, but . . .” He chuckled.
“You really think we can make this work?” he asked, already accepting the idea in his head.
Luke nodded. “It’ll carry about the same risk as a Tier One guy, only if we’re ever caught, Uncle Sam will claim we acted alone, so there won’t be any QRF bailing us out.” He was quiet for a minute, letting his words simmer. “So, what do you say? Can I count you in as Bravo Five? With your abilities and medical training, we could really use you on the team.”
Knox glimpsed his townhouse out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts wandering to Adriana, to the fact he’d have to lie to her. And this new job had the potential to carry more risks than his current position with the Navy. Meaning . . . he’d truly have to kiss any ideas of more between them goodbye.
Maybe it was for the better? He wanted her to be happy, and he’d be there for her as long as he had breath in him.
He looked back at Luke. “I’m in.”
<
br /> He wrapped up the conversation with Luke and went inside. He swiped the rainwater from his head and shook out his soaked T-shirt.
“You alone?” Adriana called out.
“Yeah,” he answered, relieved she didn’t come out in his jersey with Luke present.
Maybe she was right, and he was too protective of her. But this was the only way he knew how to be with Adriana even if it didn’t always make sense.
“So, who was that?” She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. The same wall he’d had his back to when he’d nearly kissed her. And now that blank wall was never going to be the same again—because it’d always remind him of the moment he almost said To hell with it and told her how he really felt.
But that moment was gone, and maybe he’d never be able to find his way back to it. He resisted the urge to grip his chest as it tightened.
“It was Luke,” he finally said.
Her spine straightened at the mention of the name. Of course, Adriana would remember. She’d been on the phone with him nearly every day during BUD/S. She knew Luke had been the reason why he didn’t give in and ring the bell early on.
“What’d Luke want?” The curve of her cupid’s bow-shaped mouth flattened into a straight line, a look of worry in her eyes.
He couldn’t lie to this woman.
But . . . what choice did he have?
“He offered me a job.” Knox grabbed his tumbler and gulped down the rest of the drink.
“What kind of job?”
“Private security. No more deployments. Still helping people, though.”
Adriana stood in front of him and reached out for his arm. “You’re thinking about leaving the Navy? Is that even possible?”
“He’s got an in with the president, so it’s doable.” He really hated himself for lying.
“You’re not considering doing this because of me, are you? Because of my new job?”
“No,” he rushed out. “Now, let’s have some more Jack and get back to celebrating your Secret Service gig.”
God, this night had been all sorts of crazy.
He needed to shut everyone and everything else out and pretend for a few minutes they were alone in the world.
He turned up the volume to the music and handed her the remote. “Your microphone, my lady.”
Finding the Way Back: A Stealth Ops Novel Page 3