Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  "He just listened and watched and learned the really important things about your operation."

  Jake gave her a questioning look.

  "Everything he told me that wound up in my J.B. Cooper novels."

  He snorted. "You're right. Yet again."

  "Yet again? What does that mean?"

  "You were right to demand I bring you back to the compound with me. If we'd even stumbled onto Rob's Dropbox account, we'd still be trying to figure out the password if not for you, and Rob would never have called me."

  Bliss swallowed a half chewed honeydew cube. "If I hadn't been with you when he called, you and your men wouldn't have been drawn into an ambush."

  He elbowed her gently. "If you hadn't insisted on going to the factory with us, you wouldn't have been there to receive your brother's warning."

  She flexed an apologetic smile. "My brother was missing. I had come looking for him—be there for him."

  "I get it."

  "I know you do…now."

  He turned the taco around in his hand, fidgeted. "I need to apologize to you about that earning your keep comment."

  She placed a hand on his wrist. "I forced myself on you, ingratiated myself to your men. I get it."

  He nodded and was about to bite into his taco when his gaze strayed past her and a half laugh snorted from him.

  She sighted in on the direction of his gaze. Rob was at a churro stand.

  She shook her head. "He's eating like a growing teenager. But you gave him money for juice and a taco, not sweets."

  She started to rise. Jake caught her by the wrist. "Let him be. Besides, I didn't give him enough for extras."

  But when Robbie came toward them carrying a couple paper wrapped churros, Jake chuckled. "Kid bartered."

  When Robbie reached them, Jake held out his hand and said in his most commanding voice, "Change?"

  Robbie blanched and held out his prize, offering, "Churro?"

  "You should try these," Jake said to her, taking one of the offered sugar and cinnamon sweets. "Can't beat a fresh churro as a treat."

  Robbie looked at his lone remaining churro. Bliss bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  "Here," Jake said, offering her the churro he'd taken. "Sweet and spicy."

  Instead of taking the sugar and cinnamon coated treat from him, she bit off the end of the stick he held between his fingers. Their eyes met, held as she chewed. What was there about sharing food with a man that seemed so intimate?

  Too close. Too intimate.

  That's what Jake thought every time he gave Bliss a hand up over the rubble of the ruins Rob had photographed, or steadied her on the uneven footing of trails snaking between and behind ancient buildings, or put himself between her and the autos speeding past the sidewalks of the tunnels built beneath the city. That's what he'd thought ever since she nibbled that churro from his fingertips—ever since their breakfast on the steps where he'd exposed more of himself to her than he had any stranger.

  But was she a stranger?

  His background check had revealed more than most people would know about each other by the time they had their first date.

  No. Her background wasn't where she presented the most danger to him. Her danger lie in the fact she was too inviting to touch and too easy to talk to. Too close.

  With siesta time approaching, he steered them back through the markets to their hotel. So far, they hadn't found the site where Rob had attracted the wrong kind of attention. A boy—a man on the run easily loses his way when running away from danger. Jake needed to focus on the job at hand, not explore how Bliss O'Hara so easily distracted him.

  Bliss snagged a fried pork skin from the bag of chicharrón Jake had bought on the way back to the hotel and plopped down on the couch. He'd rejected her yet again.

  Okay, to be honest he hadn't so much as rejected her as abandoned her, leaving her alone in their room to conference with the rest of the team in the larger room next door. Still, part of her felt rejected. As he had Robbie during his employment, Jake clearly didn't consider her part of the team.

  She bit into the crispy treat, the salty, blistered fat smoothing away some of the edge from her pique. And, oddly, his marginalizing her tweaked her anger as much as his denigrating romance books had. She'd even considered defying his order to stay in the room. The hotel had an Americanized restaurant. She could be having lunch there right now.

  But she knew better than to cut off her nose to spite her face. Though few knew Robbie was still in the country—that he'd come to Guanajuato not fled over the border into Central America, danger still stalked him, and likely now her and Jake and anyone else helping them.

  So she'd faced Jake over the threshold, hearing him out.

  "Don't open this door to anyone you don't know. If someone tries to break in, pound on the wall between our rooms."

  "And don't leave the room," she'd chorused with him, Jake having stated as much so many times she'd wanted to scream, but instead slammed and bolted the door between them.

  She took another bite of the chicharrón, chewing slowly, trying to enjoy the party in her mouth. But she couldn't stop thinking about the reality of Robbie's situation, that whoever had murdered his partner and blown up the company they'd been working for was still searching for him—had beaten him when they'd found him. That the only reason they'd kept him alive was so they could ambush Jake and his team.

  An ambush that had put her in the middle of a gunfight in which Jake had been shot. A reality she couldn't stop thinking about.

  Her next romantic suspense would have a whole new chill layer now that she knew what real danger felt like…provided she lived long enough to write another book.

  She shook away the paralyzing thought. The men in the adjoining room were risking their lives to help her brother out of whatever trouble he'd stumbled into, and to protect her. The least she could do is not make their jobs any harder.

  She snagged her backpack off the end of the couch and dragged it to her side, the Sig no more than an ambiguous bulge in a zippered compartment. Opening the pocket, she positioned the gun for easy retrieval. She wasn't a trained SEAL and she might be scared, but she wasn't completely helpless.

  Except where Jake was concerned.

  She slumped back on the couch. It always came back to Jake, and she wasn't entirely sure why.

  Yes, he reminded her of Savage, the perfect man she'd created. A man of integrity and compassion…both of which Jake possessed.

  Savage was loyal…as was Jake.

  Savage had wit.

  Jake had demonstrated a sense of humor this morning in the market. A welcome surprise.

  Savage was a man of mystery. So was Jake. But she knew Savage's secrets. She knew nothing of Jake's past, let alone what he aspired for his future.

  She plucked another chicharrón from the bag, her gaze straying to her suitcase which held her laptop. She could learn a lot about the man from his past.

  She chewed on the crispy skin, debating the ethics of what she was considering, arguing that it was simply good business to check out someone you were working with. Besides, Jake had snooped into her past.

  Bliss took the gun from her pack, dug her laptop from her suitcase, and settled herself on the bed. Sig safely tucked against her hip, she opened the laptop and logged onto the hotel's WiFi.

  She already knew she'd find nothing on-line about Saint Security or Jake St. John. She'd used Lu's iPad to search the moment he'd exited the limousine. Once home, further searches of the St. John name had brought up endless fan sites for his brother Dane. Reading through interviews of the action movie star, she'd found only a vague reference to Jake who Dane had referred to only as his "SEAL brother" and joked, "If I reveal any more about him I'll have to kill you and your crew, then destroy the tape."

  Facebook searches had netted her a plethora of St. Johns, a scanning of which provided no obvious links to a SEAL relative. She stared at the browser page, pondering whether to give social media
a closer look.

  She thought back through the SKYPE conversation she'd had with Renn. He'd told he was a stunt rider at a Medieval themed restaurant in Texas. Maybe if she searched for Medieval themed restaurants in Texas, she'd find a link to Renn and more information about Jake, or at least the family.

  Or…

  Renn had spoken about their sister having a restaurant in Wisconsin. Jake had been headed north from Chicago to visit his sister when their paths had crossed. The restaurant was a converted farm…which Renn had kept referring to as the farm house. Could he have meant The Farmhouse as in that being the name of the restaurant?

  She typed The Farmhouse Restaurant in Wisconsin into a search engine. Listings for a number of variations on Farm-related restaurants in Wisconsin populated the screen. But only one was listed simply as The Farmhouse.

  Bliss clicked on the link and a Victorian Era farm house painted a happy yellow with a wraparound porch and a flower-lined sidewalk banner entitled The Farmhouse popped on the screen. Interior shots showcased the richness of woodwork that had been kept in pristine condition, the hominess of two dining rooms with their hand-stenciled borders and mismatched tables and chairs. Warm. Inviting. Homey. Those were the feelings the image evoked in Bliss. She could like the woman who created this kind of ambiance.

  The site posted a location just outside of Green Bay, as well as hours and cuisine. And awards. A James Beard nomination for Rising Chef of the Year topping the list.

  "Well done," Bliss murmured.

  Photos depicted homey yet refined food that suited the atmosphere of the restaurant and the talent of a trained chef. One photo of owner Dixie and her chef husband Sam smiled out at her from a pristine, professional kitchen. The warmth of their smiles sparkled in their eyes and the closeness of their bodies sang of love. Longing pinched at Bliss' stomach.

  She followed the website link to the restaurant's Facebook page. More photos of food, some with Sam holding out the plates as though presenting them to the viewer. Some food prep tips and raves of reviews. But still all about the restaurant. She wanted to know about the St. John family—about Jake.

  She took a chance and typed in Dixie St. John. Nothing. She went back to the restaurant site. There it was. Sam and Dixie Ryan.

  Dixie Ryan's site was public. Though she expected his sister would have respected the privacy of the reclusive Jake, she scrolled through the posts hoping the sister might have let something slip. What Bliss got was a lot of friend postings, shared event pictures, words of wisdom and support, and humorous graphics.

  Jake's sister clearly attracted positive-minded people. Where'd the somber Jake fit into his sister's optimistic world?

  A cluster of family photos came up with the caption cousins get together. The date corresponded to when Jake would have been visiting his sister.

  Bliss' heartbeat quickened. She clicked on the collection of family photos, enlarging them and scrolling through them in search of any shots of Jake. Most were of three toddler girls and a grade school aged boy. She paused on a posed shot that included adults.

  Dixie held a mini version of herself, all blond and blue-eyed while the lone boy of the group stood in front of a crouching Sam whose arms enfolded the grinning boy, the only one of the young cousins whose eyes were a more subdued shade of blue. She recognized the movie star brother Dane quick enough, perched in the crook of his arm a toddler close in size to Dixie's youngest and likewise blond with St. John blue eyes. Clearly his daughter. The dark haired woman in functional casual wear he hugged to his side no doubt his wife Kelly, the Michigan Conservation Officer Renn had told her about.

  Which meant the man with short cropped blond hair and St. John eyes had to be the building contractor brother Roman, and the dark haired woman in designer quality casual attire on whose shoulder his arm was draped his architect wife, Tess. Another tidbit Renn had shared along with their oil and water courtship. The little girl they held between them, older than the other two girls but still a toddler, looked out at the camera with the family signature eyes.

  Cousins. Brothers and sister. In-laws. She longed for a family like this. Close. Extended. Family to lean on, to share life with. And this was only part of the St. John family.

  Renn was missing. Stunt riding in Texas at the medieval themed restaurant undoubtedly. Their parents, he'd told her, living out their retirement in the Orient.

  But where was Jake? The Facebook timestamp indicated he should have been there.

  The family ghost, Renn had called Jake. She shouldn't be surprised he wasn't in the photo.

  Then again… A shadow stretched across the grass and over Roman's long legs. Jake?

  He had to be the one taking the picture.

  Or not. That shadow could belong to any man.

  But she wanted it to be his. She wanted to see him as part of the family, his family.

  She stared a long time at that shadow, wanting to believe it touching even one family member created the link she wanted for him. He must want to be close to his family, too. Why else would he spend his vacation visiting his sister…where his brothers and their families could join them? He would have visited Renn had it not been for Robbie going missing…her brother whom Jake had put himself in danger to rescue and now protect.

  Or was that just being the dedicated SEAL? Protect and defend. He had no personal pictures in his private quarters. He never talked about his family.

  I like to keep my business separate from my family.

  Of course. And, even if he'd been inclined to talk about his family, why should he talk to her about them? They'd known each other less than two weeks, been together less than half of that. And he did have a SKYPE connection to his family and he had just visited Dixie in Wisconsin and his siblings from Michigan.

  So he kept his private life separate from his business life. He'd made no secret that's how he wanted it. She understood the reasoning behind it. Maybe she was looking for what she wanted in a family—looking for him to want the same things as her.

  Bliss moved the mouse to close the photo album, but clicked the arrow to the next photo instead. And there it was. Proof her gut had been right about Jake wanting more than he was allowing himself.

  It was a head and shoulders shot, the subjects of the picture little more than silhouettes against the setting sun backlighting them. Their features were almost completely burned out, but the sunshine catching in the wisps of the toddler's hair sparkled gold while the man's hair was definitely dark, his profile all too familiar.

  Everything Jake felt about family was in the protective way he held his niece. But it was the press of his lips to his niece's forehead and the shadowed suggestion of a closed eye that exposed his longing—a longing she shared.

  Bliss touched the screen, stroked Jake's cheek. "What are you doing living the life of a military operative when you must know you want more?"

  Before she could explore the question further, the deadbolt on the hotel room door scraped from its shaft. Bliss grabbed the Sig and was on her feet by the time the door opened as far as the chain guard allowed.

  Jake's voice breached the opening. "It's me."

  She lowered the gun and went to the door, her heart pounding in the aftermath of the adrenalin rush. Releasing the guard, she opened the door and Jake strode in. He glanced at the gun in her hand as he passed.

  "I told you to pound on the wall if someone tried to break in."

  "I figured a gunshot would bring the cavalry just as quickly," she said, closing the door and bolting it behind him.

  "Cavalry? Wrong branch of the serv—ices."

  His voice caught. She turned from the door and found him standing, staring at the bed where her computer sat, its screen populated by the photo of him and his niece.

  His voice came out low and bitter. "I thought your brother was the family hacker. What other hidden talents have you not told me about?"

  "What? Do you think… I didn't hack—"

  He faced her, his mouth t
ight. "My sister created a secret group just for the family. No one is supposed to be able to get into it without belonging to the group. How did you infiltrate our private family page?"

  "I didn't. I found your sister's Facebook page. That was on it."

  "She wouldn't publicly post any pictures of me."

  "No one would know that's you unless they knew you and your connection to Dixie."

  He scowled.

  "Here. Look," she said, setting the gun down on the coffee table and skirting him to the computer where she clicked back to the home page.

  He studied the page. Scrolled up and down. He clicked on the pictures of that day when four of the St. John siblings had been together, scrolled through them. "She have any more of me on her page?"

  "Not that I found," Bliss said, noting he paused on the shots of the kids.

  When he clicked past the picture of his siblings and their kids, she covered his hand with hers and moved it and the mouse to the back arrow.

  "The shadow of the person taking the picture," she asked, "is that you?"

  "Yeah. I took the picture."

  "In a way, that shadow puts you in the picture with your brothers and sister and their families."

  He pulled his hand out from under hers. "Put your boots on. Time we head back out in the field."

  Chapter 11

  "That's it!" Rob sprinted ahead of them down the narrow street toward a metal door framed into the corner of a building.

  Jake trotted after him, scanning the walls of the buildings butting up to the alley on either side for windows. There were none. Nice and secluded, though the alley hooked around the back of one building.

  He gave it a thorough scan as he broached the corner, noting it dead-ended outside the backdoor of the building and the only window was boarded up.

  "Perfect location for a secret door," Bliss said, catching up to them.

  He needed to still be mad at her. In those moments when he'd thought she'd hacked into his family's secret Facebook page he had been. But, as she had every other time he'd doubted her, her word had proven good. She hadn't explored anything that wasn't already public. Hell, he'd done worse to her.