Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “We’ve had this conversation before,” her voice was flat. “Now you’re going to apologize for being a jackass. Save your breath. I don’t want to hear it. Let’s concentrate on getting the two of you home safe.”

  “But I am sorry.” The words came from his gut.

  “You always are. Like I said, we’ll table that for now. Read the bios on the guys I’ve created for you. They’re complicated. The one thing I’ve done to make it easier is allowing you to keep your real names.”

  “Got it. We’ll memorize these. No problem. Are you acting as our liaison or something?”

  “Nope, I’m your personal assistant, Melinda Sharpe. When you give me the ready signal I’ll arrange appointments for you.”

  “Will you be wearing a pencil skirt?”

  Lydia gave out a startled laugh.

  Yay, I’ve still got it!

  “If I am, you won’t be able to see it. You know why? Oh yeah, you’re in Kazakhstan!”

  Clint winced.

  “Me leaving is water under the bridge. Drake couldn’t go out alone, and I couldn’t allow Finn to put his career on the line. You and I know mine is hanging on by a thread until the final eval of the TBI. Better me than him.”

  “I got that—”

  “But the worst part? The worst part is once again I couldn’t control my moods and ended up being a royal prick to you. Drake is fine; he has the hide of a rhinoceros and I’m not in love with him. But you? I want to treat you like the precious lady you are in my life. I don’t want you to always have to make excuses for me, otherwise one day I’ll find you gone.”

  “Clint! That wouldn’t happen.”

  “Really, Lydia? Because there is a small little part of me that has grown bigger since the explosion that thinks you already have one foot out the door.”

  “No,” she gasped.

  “Yes. Honey, I love you as if my next gulp of air depended on it, but you won’t marry me. How else am I supposed to feel?”

  “Oh, God.”

  Is she crying?

  “This is the worst goddamn time to be bringing this up, but it’s time for all cards to be on the table. I don’t want you to have to put up with some guy who’s emotionally abusive. I’m too in love with you to want that for your future. My gut is telling me to hang on to you no matter what emotional coercive tactic I need to take, but that’s not what’s right for you. What’s more, I’m thinking this might be the out you’ve been looking for.”

  “No, Baby, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” She was crying. He was having trouble making out what she was saying.

  “Lydia, calm down,” he tried to soothe.

  “I’m the one with the problems. The issues. There’s too much filth that clings to me, and I just don’t want you to be a part of it.” He heard her blow her nose. Then he thought he heard her say. “I don’t want to be a part of it.”

  “What?”

  “I want to be with you all of my life,” she sobbed. “You’re everything to me. Even when you’re a cranky asshole. You’re everything.”

  “Then let’s go to Vegas when I get back.”

  “You don’t understand, it’s more complicated than that.”

  “Then make me understand.”

  She didn’t speak for so long, Clint had to look down at his phone to make sure the connection hadn’t been broken.

  “Lydia? Honey?”

  “We need to talk when you get home. But know that I love you with my whole heart.”

  Something settled inside him. He could get through this. Not the job in Kazakhstan, but his future. With Lydia by his side, he was going to make it.

  22

  The blue sky and smell of the ocean did nothing for Lydia as she walked down the stairs from Alice Pearson’s small apartment. There didn’t seem to be anything good in the world, and this interview just confirmed it.

  Part of her was so scared about what Clint would think about her father, and her covering it up for so long. Another part was relieved that it would finally be out there. Had she really just given her dad’s sins so much oxygen that they had become a monster of epic proportions, coloring every aspect of her life?

  She yawned as she opened the door to Clint’s truck. She loved driving it when he wasn’t around; it made her feel cuddled in his arms.

  I have it bad.

  She needed to get back to her townhome and put the finishing touches on the alias she had set up for him and Drake.

  “Detective?”

  Lydia squinted back over her shoulder to see Alice jogging up toward her. “I forgot to tell you something. It might not be anything, but I thought I’d bring it up.”

  Lydia shut her car door and forced a relaxed smile on her face. “What is it, Alice?”

  “I thought it was weird that Mom’s grave had fresh flowers on it, the last time I was there.”

  “When was this?”

  “Her birthday, January sixteenth.”

  “So three weeks ago. Did Albert give your mother flowers often?”

  “No, he never did. That’s why it never occurred to me it could be him, but you asked for anything out of the ordinary. Before Albert, it was just mom and me, so I just can’t imagine who would have put flowers on her grave.”

  “Alice, it’s good you told me. Now, take those safety precautions I recommended, and I’ll call you in a few days, okay?” Lydia asked as she squeezed her arm. She waited until Alice nodded.

  “I’ll wait until you go back inside.” Lydia smiled kindly. She needed to get home and check with Diamond and Melvin that the aliases she had given Drake and Clint were dug in deep. Then she would start acting as Melinda Sharpe, personal assistant extraordinaire, the woman who could work miracles getting appointments for her very important bosses.

  She started the truck and her phone rang. She put it on the speaker as she pulled out of her parking spot.

  “Lydia, it’s Billy Anderson.”

  Her gut clenched.

  “Is it time?”

  “Yep, Sophia’s at the hospital.”

  “Mary Birch?” Lydia questioned, wanting to be sure.

  “That’s the one. Only Mason is going to be let in the actual room. Which sounds good to me.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would to you,” Lydia laughed.

  “So she just started labor?”

  Billy sighed. “Nope, she thought it was Braxton-Hicks again and didn’t want to bother us. So she’d been having contractions for a while. According to Mason when he came out to tell me, she’s close.”

  “Who else have you called?”

  “Nobody. I was hoping you could.”

  “I’m on it.” Lydia assured the soon-to-be-uncle.

  “Thanks, see you soon.”

  Sophia had done it, she’d made it to thirty-six weeks! Lydia called Rylie and told her the news, and Rylie said she’d get ahold of the others since she was home. Lydia headed to the hospital.

  In the waiting room, she and Rylie called Melvin and started working to get Clint and Drake’s backgrounds nailed down tight and then getting them appointments with the Kazakhstanis. Just as they were wrapping it up, Mason walked out.

  “I have a daughter, and her mama is doing great,” he exclaimed. “Sophia is a miracle worker.” Lydia could see the sheen of tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat then said. “We can only have two visitors at a time. Billy and Lydia, do you want to come in?”

  They wasted no time following Mason back down the hallway to Sophia’s room. There was absolute quiet, as Sophia held a pink blanket cuddled close to her chest. The baby had a dusting of blonde hair, a perfect pink mouth and her eyes were closed.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Lydia breathed as she followed Billy toward the bed.

  “I’m your Uncle Billy,” he said quietly. His grin was huge.

  It wasn’t until Lydia tasted salt that she realized she was crying.

  “Sophia, you done good, Girlfriend,” she whispered.

  Mason went to the other side of
the bed and sat down so he could wrap his arms around his wife and child.

  “You’re right, Lydia, Sophia was amazing. I’m truly blessed.” He kissed the top of his daughter’s head, then gave Sophia a tender kiss filled with love and adoration.

  It had been two and a half days since he had done all the coding, and Clint felt totally in control again. Just in time, too, since this was one of his biggest roles to date. Thank God Lydia had let them keep their own names, so they wouldn’t fuck that up, but everything else about their backgrounds was fake. It was worse than any final exam he had ever crammed for, making sure he had the background down pat.

  Seriously, Dare Stanton was better suited for this James Bond shit. He’d had to do it on a mission, and he’d ended up with a wife out of the deal. But no, here he was with Drake Avery as a partner and possibly going to lose a potential wife.

  Nope, I’m not going to let that happen. Whatever is eating at Lydia, I’ll solve it. We’ll get past this and make it work.

  Clint grimaced at his reflection in the elevator’s gleaming mirror. They’d agreed that Drake would do the talking this time around. The man could bullshit with the best of them, plus nobody, including Clint, was one-hundred percent sure on how well he’d respond under pressure. Which sucked donkey-balls.

  When they finally got to the top floor of the bank building, they were greeted by a gorgeous blonde receptionist with cat-green eyes and legs up to her chin. How did she get real work done during the day in five-inch heels?

  “Gentlemen,” she purred with a sexy Slavic accent. “The vice presidents are finishing a conference call, if you would please be seated, I will bring you some refreshments. What would you like?”

  Oh, this is so 007. Clint grinned internally.

  “I’ll have mineral water,” Drake said with a business-like smile. And since that was the way his friend was going to play it, Clint kept his smile subdued and asked for flat water. She swayed out of the reception area to get their drinks.

  With no change of expression, Drake leaned over to whisper in Clint’s ear. “I’m thinking that her name should be Kitty Cream? What do you think?”

  “Nah, nothing beats Ian Fleming’s Pussy Galore. It’s a classic.” Clint kept a lookout on the office doors and the hall that the receptionist had gone down. He sat straighter when she came back with a silver tray and two tall glasses with ice and a bowl of lemon slices. They were definitely living the good life.

  She bent and twisted as she set down the beverages, better than most hostesses in Vegas. Seriously, Amir and Zangar were sure as hell living the high life.

  “Thank you,” Drake gave her a small smile. “How long do you think Mr. Omarov and Mr. Boyko will be?”

  “Not much longer,” she assured Drake. “Let me go and check.”

  She went over to the tall, paneled door and knocked. She went inside and they waited, sipping their drinks.

  She came back out smiling brightly. “They will see you now.” She opened the door wide and motioned for them to walk into the office. The two men were backlit, so it was difficult to discern what they looked like. Neither of them was seated, they were standing on either side of the large desk that sat in front of a breathtaking view of the futuristic city of Nur-Sultan.

  Total power move.

  “Quite something, isn’t it?” the man on the right said.

  Clint and Drake walked just a couple of paces into the room, waiting for the men to come forward and show themselves.

  “And you are?” Drake asked smoothly.

  “Forgive me,” the man moved away from the window so that he could be seen. “My name is Amir Omarov.” He held out his hand to Drake, who smiled and shook it.

  “I’m Drake Avery, and this is my associate Clint Archer. We’re here on behalf of a large consortium back in the United States.”

  “We know,” the other man spoke up.

  “Of course you do,” Clint said. His voice was just barely polite. “You wouldn’t have given us this meeting if you hadn’t thoroughly vetted us.”

  “And the same could be said of you, as well. I’m sure you did a lot of checking before you decided that our bank, and Zangar and I, would be a good fit for whatever it is you have planned.”

  Drake gave a chin nod. “It’s not every day we get to meet with true oligarchs.”

  Zangar laughed and walked over to the trio. “We are mere vice presidents here at a bank, not oligarchs. But I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I didn’t say that was our goal, right Amir?”

  “Perhaps we can help,” Drake smiled.

  “I knew I liked you,” Amir said. “Yes, money is what makes the world go round, is it not? But before we get down to business, first we must have lunch. It is so much easier to do business with friends, is it not?”

  “I could eat,” Drake said. “What about you, Clint?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not much of a talker, are you Mr. Archer?” Amir asked.

  “Nope,” Clint replied.

  “Perhaps some vodka can loosen you up,” Zangar said with a laugh.

  Amir opened the paneled door and said something to Kitty Cream, in what Clint assumed was Kazakh, because it sure as hell wasn’t Russian.

  “She will make our lunch reservations. Come. Come.” Amir ushered them toward the elevators. After they got in, Drake and Clint watched as they passed the lobby floor and continued on to the sub-basement.

  When the doors opened they found themselves in a parking garage, with a large limousine waiting for them.

  “After you,” Amir smiled as a building valet opened the door.

  Clint stepped into the dark cavernous backseat that smelled of leather and cognac. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and when they did he saw two big men sitting in the opposite seats pointing guns at him.

  Clint turned to warn Drake, but his teammate was shoved forward and then hit on the back of the head with the butt of thug number one’s gun. Drake was out like a light.

  “Make a move to escape, and we will kill your friend, Mr. Archer,” Zangar said as he delicately stepped over Drake’s body to seat himself next to Thug number two. Amir came in last and sat down next to Clint.

  Amir said something in Kazakh again and Thug Number One dragged Drake closer to him, then rested his foot on Drake’s neck.

  “Just in case you were thinking you could possibly harm me.” Amir smiled over at Clint. “I am fine with having my employee break your friend’s neck if I don’t like what I hear. So let’s talk business.”

  Clint’s gut clenched. They were in some serious trouble, but he figured they didn’t want to bloody up the back of the limo, so they would do the killing away from the offices and the vehicle. That gave Drake and him time.

  Now, how should I play this?

  “No business talk,” Clint said. “I was promised lunch.”

  Zangar threw back his head and laughed. “I like him, Amir. I like him a lot. Maybe we shouldn’t torture him too much before we kill him. We can focus on the big guy.”

  “I want to know the names of the people within the consortium. We never work with people we don’t know; it’s bad business practices.” Amir gave him the snake oil salesman smile.

  Clint thought quickly about what to say and then rolled the dice, praying his gut wouldn’t steer him wrong.

  “That’s not true. You don’t always know who you’re working with,” Clint smirked.

  “What are you talking about?” Zangar demanded.

  “You worked with Devon Cron and you didn’t know all the people he represented.”

  Clint saw the hit coming.

  Amir shot his fist at Clint’s jaw and easily connected.

  Clint had done nothing to avoid it. It wouldn’t be in character, so he took it. But it didn’t mean he liked it.

  “We know everything—don’t underestimate us. We made Devon talk before he left our country. We went into business with him three months ago because he had an interesting proposition. Unfortu
nately for him, Senator Leonard was not able to convince his colleagues on the tariff bill. Therefore what was supposed to be a lucrative opportunity turned sour. We now want another form of recompense.”

  “What do you want them to pay you?” Clint asked.

  Amir chuckled. It was actually an evil villain laugh; what kind of world had Clint stepped into? “We want two sanctions lifted. Senator Leonard is the leader of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, he can make that happen.”

  “How do you figure that?” Clint asked as he felt the limo begin to move. At the same time, he saw Drake make a subtle fist, indicating he was awake.

  “He’s the majority leader. He can lead the sheep to do his will.”

  “And us? Why are you targeting us? We’re just here to give you a deal of a lifetime.”

  “This is just a precaution. Your friend gets a small bump on the head, and you give me all of the information about your plan. We don’t work in the dark.”

  Ah, shit, a plan that doesn’t exist. I’m so screwed.

  “Neither do we. There is one more person besides the weasel Devon and the senator who are in on their scheme,” Clint lied. He had to make them spill more info on the senator and the Weasel, and hopefully not have to come up with his consortium’s plan.

  “What other partner?” Zangar demanded to know.

  “They have a silent partner, someone that you don’t want to cross.”

  “Impossible,” Amir dismissed with a sniff.

  “Okay, don’t listen to me,” Clint said easily. “You’re thinking you’re the baddest kids on the block, well there is someone that Devon and the senator are more scared of. Someone that has frightened Devon so badly that he’s put a hit out on you two.”

  This time Zangar let out the evil laugh.

  Did they teach this to them as kids?

  “I don’t believe you,” Amir said easily.

  “Fine, don’t. It’s your life. But he’s put a hit out on your families as well.” Clint was way off script now.