The Rogue Warrior
Navy SEAL Romances 2.0
Cindy Roland Anderson
Copyright © 2018 by Cindy Roland Anderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Line Editor: Sadie L Anderson
Content Editor: Valerie Bybee
Cover Design by Valerie Bybee Photography
Cover Photo by Valerie Bybee Photography
Cover Model: Trevor Farnes
Created with Vellum
For the men and women serving in the United States Armed Forces, selfishly protecting our freedom and sometimes giving their lives for it. Thank you so much!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
Freedom. For the first time in months, she felt liberated from the grief that had entrapped her for so long. Tipping her face up, Weslee Campbell closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the crashing waves as a soft ocean breeze caressed her face. It felt as if her mama was reaching down from heaven to stroke her cheek.
“I miss you,” she whispered. “But I’m ready to start living again.”
Opening her eyes, she stared across the vast ocean. The setting sun created a spectacular skyline of amber light that shimmered on the surface of the water. A small smile tipped her mouth as she remembered how her daddy would always take dozens of pictures, trying to capture the array of colors. He never could get it right, but that didn’t matter because he told her that God would give them another sunset tomorrow.
Thinking about her parents made her ache with longing to see them again, but the pain wasn’t as raw. She knew they wouldn’t want her to grieve so deeply anymore. Coming to San Diego had been the right thing to do. Her parents had loved visiting the West Coast.
A wave rolled over the beach, nearly touching her bare feet. Weslee curled her toes into the moist sand, welcoming the sensations as if she had never experienced them before. When her parents had died in a car accident eight months earlier, Weslee didn’t know if she would ever want to step foot on another beach.
Growing up in a quiet suburb of Raleigh, North Carolina, she and her parents spent most of the weekends in their beach house on Emerald Isle. The long stretch of the North Carolina private beach provided the perfect getaway for their small family. It’s where Weslee learned how to swim, fish, and shoot arrows. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to visit the Emerald Isle home. It was the last place they’d all been together. But the oceanfront house in San Diego was a good first step back into life. Her parents made the trip out west at least once a month. This would be the first year they wouldn’t attend the annual charity ball held at the historic Hotel del Coronado. The invitation had come a few weeks after their funeral. Weslee had almost tossed it in the trash. Thank goodness Inez, her childhood nanny and now housekeeper, had tucked it away.
The sound of laughter drew her attention away from the rolling water. She watched the party of teenagers playing volleyball, tempting her to ask if she could join them. She hadn’t wanted to do anything social for so long. Was she brave enough to venture closer?
Her phone pinged an incoming text. She pulled it from the pocket of her white sundress and froze as she read the first few lines previewed on the screen. Her throat closed off as she frantically looked around her. Was he watching her right now? And how had he gotten her new number?
Fingers shaking, she tapped on the message. She had really hoped the guy was going to leave her alone since he hadn’t contacted her for two weeks. All of them had hoped her stalker had lost interest. But following her to California crossed a line. Angry and frustrated, she read the entire text.
You look real pretty in your white dress. I wish your hair wasn’t braided so I could watch it dance on the breeze.
He really was here. Feeling as exposed as a deer during hunting season, she tried to pull up the keypad to call 9-1-1 but her hands shook and her fingers felt frozen. Deciding to seek shelter first, she shoved the phone back into her pocket and spun around to run back to the house. She caught sight of a dark shirt just before she slammed into something hard.
A scream pierced the air as she fell on her backside. Her eyes widened with fear as she looked up to see the muscular man she’d hit. “Stay away from me,” she said, scrambling backward like one of the sand crabs.
“Easy,” the man said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to run into you.”
“You…you need to stop contacting me.”
Confusion darkened his features, his blue eyes narrowing. “Ma’am, I think you may have me confused with someone else.” He emphasized his empty hands. “I protect women, not hurt them.”
“You’re a police officer?” she asked, feeling as if he had just put up an invisible force field around her. For whatever reason, she believed him and knew he wasn’t the man stalking her.
“No, ma’am. I’m an officer…a recently retired officer in the Navy.” He scanned the area around them. “Is there someone here who threatened you?”
“I don’t know if he’s here or not.” Weslee’s racing heartbeat began to slow down as she got to her feet. “He texted me a minute ago and described my dress,” she said, shivering at the thought that her stalker was still watching her.
The lines in his face hardened as he made another slow sweep of their surroundings. Weslee scanned the area too. With someone like this Navy guy here to protect her, now would be the perfect time to spot the man sending her the messages. She didn’t see anyone suspicious. Glancing back at the naval officer, she waited as he continued his thorough search of their immediate landscape.
He looked far too young for retirement. She had just turned twenty-five, and he had to be close to her age or only a few years older. Her eyes zeroed in on an insignia visible on the sleeve of his blue T-shirt. She wasn’t sure what it said, but it looked legit.
Her eyes drifted down to his well-developed bicep that strained against the fabric of his snug shirt. She was confident this man could protect her.
His hands were on his hips as he continued to search the area. That’s when she noticed two bracelets made from thin black cord circled one of his wrists. They were definitely homemade. She’d made that kind of friendship bracelet at a few of the summer camps she’d attended when she was a little girl. Maybe he had a daughter or a little sister who had made them for him.
“Ma’am, I don’t see anyone.”
Weslee jerked her head up. “Oh…okay.”
“Would you like me to call the police?”
“No, thank you.” She didn’t want to bother the local police, doubting they could do anything more than the police back home. “I’ll contact the detective working with me.”
Their gazes held, the air between them charged with electricity. His blue eyes assessed her with the same intensity as when he’d searched for her stalker. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable or creepy, just intense as if he were
puzzling over an equation.
She was on the verge of asking for his name when Inez called out from behind her. “Baby girl, are you okay?” she asked, her wobbly voice a sign of her worry.
“Yes, ma’am,” Weslee said, breaking eye contact with her Navy rescuer. Inez was coming toward her, limping slightly from her arthritic knees. Weslee needed to go to her, knowing the older woman would risk further damage to make sure she was safe. Besides, she needed to contact Uncle Jon and tell him about the text message.
“Thank you again for your help,” she said, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I really appreciate it.”
He still watched her closely and, for a moment, she thought he would ask for her contact information. Part of her wished he would. Then she reminded herself she lived on the East Coast and that she was leaving after the charity ball next weekend. There was no point in even knowing his name.
The muscle in his jaw tightened as something decisive flickered in his eyes. “No problem, ma’am,” he said, giving her a nod of his chin.
With his dismissal, Weslee gave him a soft smile before she turned and walked away. She wanted to look behind her one last time, but Inez stumbled and nearly went down. “Don’t come any further,” she said, picking up her pace. “I’m comin’ to you.”
“Who is that young man?” Inez asked when Weslee was almost to her.
“I don’t know his name.” Weslee reached Inez and took her arm. “I accidentally ran into him.”
“Accidentally on purpose?” Inez asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Even from here I could see he was a handsome devil.”
Was? Unable to help herself, Weslee glanced behind her. Mr. Navy had resumed his jog, heading back in the direction he’d come from. It was silly to feel so disappointed. “He was very handsome,” Weslee said. “And I think he would’ve taken out my stalker if he had found him.”
Inez stopped so abruptly they both nearly tumbled to the ground. “That man is here?”
“I think so.” Weslee took the older woman’s hand in hers and escorted her up the wooden stairs to the covered porch. “He knew the color of my dress and that my hair is braided.”
“We have to tell Jon,” Inez said. “Promise me you’ll do what he asks this time?”
“I promise,” she said, although reluctantly. Jon would insist on hiring a bodyguard. He’d wanted to before. But, since the messages were never threatening, Weslee had talked him out of it. She didn’t want to have some huge man following her around. “But I’m not missing the charity ball.”
“Then make sure Jon hires someone who can dance,” Inez said, narrowing her eyes. “The important thing is to keep you safe.”
She shivered at the serious tone of her former nanny’s words. Would this man hurt her? While this message was similar to the others, talking about her clothes and her hair, the fact he’d followed her to California was alarming. That, and the recent disappearances of two college girls from Duke University who had both received messages from an unknown admirer before they went missing caused another shiver of fear to snake down her spine. They were too similar to her case.
Once inside, Weslee made the call to her uncle. Jon Curtis wasn’t really her uncle. He was her father’s best friend and the corporate attorney for Ground Zero, the nutritional supplement company her daddy had built into a multi-million-dollar company from the ground up. Weslee had known Jon all her life. Since both of her parents had no other living relatives, he and Inez were her only family.
“Hello, Weslee my girl,” Jon answered cheerfully. “Have you had a good day?”
“Yes.” She sank down on an oversized white leather chair. “At least I was until I got another message from my overzealous fan.”
Jon exploded after Weslee read him the text. “Did you call the police?”
“No. They can’t do anything with a single text message.”
“I’ll be on the plane within the hour. In the meantime, I’ll call in a favor with a colleague of mine. He has connections with an exclusive security firm based out of San Diego.” Jon went on to give her other instructions, like making sure she closed all the blinds, locked the doors, and armed the security system. He also promised to have a police officer watch over the house until he could arrange for a bodyguard. Weslee didn’t argue. Jon rarely overreacted, but this time he’d sounded panicked.
After ending the call, she made sure to lock all the doors and closed the blinds. This whole thing angered her. She didn’t want a bodyguard, and she didn’t want to be sequestered in the house. She loved the view of the ocean and felt frustrated that she couldn’t keep the blinds open because some guy had decided to fixate on her.
Still, she wasn’t exactly safe with a crazy stalker who wanted to be close enough he could touch her hair. He mentioned something about it in every single message. It was kind of creepy how obsessed the guy was about her hair. It’s not like it was anything extraordinary. She was blonde with natural beach waves that came to the middle of her back. He also commented on her clothing and how well everything fit her. That was creepy too, now that she thought about it.
“Here you go, sugar,” Inez said, handing Weslee a steaming cup of cocoa. The big dollop of whipped cream was already melting into a white puddle.
“Thank you.” She blew across the top before taking a sip. “This is exactly what I needed.”
“What did Jon say?” Inez asked, sitting on a matching chair next to Weslee.
“He’s on his way out.” Weslee took another sip of cocoa and winced. It was still a little too hot. “And he’s hiring a bodyguard to follow me around.”
“It won’t be that bad.” She picked up her knitting bag and pulled out her latest project. “Did you ask Jon to make sure he hires someone who is handsome and can dance?”
“No. Somehow I don’t think Jon will take that into consideration.” Weslee lowered the cup to her lap. “He’ll go for someone who looks like the bodyguards in the movies with big muscles, sunglasses, and zero personality.”
A smile crinkled the corners of Inez’s eyes. “That’s going to put a damper on all those handsome young men wanting to dance with you Saturday evening.”
“Or he could rescue me from being a wallflower if no one else asks me to dance.”
Her nanny snorted a laugh. “Honey, you have never in your life been a wallflower.”
“I have too,” Weslee argued. “Don’t you remember my eighth-grade dance? Not one single boy asked me to dance.”
“That’s because that mean girl, Lillianna Carlton, paid them off.”
Lillianna Carlton had been the bane of Weslee’s existence up until high school. Her tormentor had gotten pregnant the beginning of their sophomore year, freeing Weslee from her incessant harassment. “I think she lives out here and is on husband number three.” Weslee sipped her cocoa and then licked the cream from her upper lip. “I hope she isn’t at the charity ball.”
“Well, you’ve got more money than her now, so you can pay all the men more than five dollars not to dance with her.”
“Hmm, remind me to bring a lot of cash with me.”
Her phone chimed an incoming text. She and Inez shared a silent look before she picked up her cell. Her insides shook like Jell-O as she looked at the screen. “It’s from Jon,” she told Inez. “A police officer will be here in a few minutes.”
The officer arrived a moment later. He asked her a lot of questions and then asked for her phone. “And you didn’t see anyone suspicious?” he asked after reading the message.
The image of the man she’d run into materialized in her mind. There wasn’t a point in telling Officer Denning about her Navy rescuer. She didn’t have a name, nor could he offer any more helpful information. “No, sir,” she answered. “I didn’t see anyone.”
After promising to have an officer keep watch over the house until Jon arrived, he gave her his card with his contact info and left them alone.
It took four days for Jon to get an appointme
nt with the man his colleague had recommended. Sutton Smith was a wealthy British man who had a team of security agents that were the best in the business. Weslee still hated the idea of having a bodyguard. She wanted to feel normal again and having someone watching over her wasn’t normal. Since the stalker hadn’t tried contacting Weslee again, she’d tried several times to talk Jon out of hiring a bodyguard. He wouldn’t budge, but their appointment wasn’t for a few more hours so she decided to give it one more try.
“Knock-knock,” she said, standing in the doorway of the small den her father used to use when they vacationed here. “I brought you some iced tea and cookies.”
Jon looked up from his computer and smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He took off his reading glasses and cleared a spot in front of him. “These are my favorite,” he said after Weslee deposited the tea and plate of cookies on the desk.
“I know.” She smiled and took a seat across from the desk. “I asked Inez to make them just for you.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, he ignored the tea and cookies and sat back in his chair. “The answer is no, Weslee.”
“Uncle Jon, I don’t need a bodyguard.” She hoped calling him uncle would soften him up. “My overzealous fan hasn’t tried hurting me, nor has he tried contacting me again.”
“Stop calling him a fan.” Jon pressed his lips together. “He’s a stalker, Weslee.”
“But he hasn’t tried hurting me.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to wait until he does!” He pushed back from the desk and stood up. “Your mother and father asked me to look after you. I can’t be with you all the time, and I don’t want you alone until we can identify whoever is doing this.”
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