Night with a Seal (Hot SEALs #1)

by Cat Johnson

  Grinning wide, Chris reeled in Darci with one arm, dipped her deep and gave her a kiss worthy of one of those corny old black and white movies.

  Ali watched, wide-eyed, from not a foot away. There was quite a lot of intrigue surrounding her. If she wasn’t mistaken, Chris liked Darci, while Darci was interested in Zane. And Zane apparently wanted any girl in his phone willing to text him back for a booty call. It all felt very high school, especially when Ali’s own crush stepped into her line of vision and her heart began to pound like she was a teenager again.

  Jon put his glass down on the counter. “Happy New Year.”

  She turned to fully face him. “Happy New Year.”

  Not sure exactly what to do—shake his hand, kiss him on the cheek, kiss him on the lips—she waited for him to make the first move. And oh, boy, did he make one hell of a move as he palmed her face, leaned in and crashed his lips against hers.

  Jon planted one hell of a kiss, dead on her mouth, while she stood there with a glass in one hand and uncertain what to do with the other. As the kiss went on for far longer than a peck, she reached blindly for him and looped the fingers of her free hand into his waistband.

  Drawing in a breath through his nose, Jon moved one leg forward to nestle his thigh between hers. Pressing closer, he thrust his tongue between her lips.

  She felt ridiculous still holding her glass, but couldn’t see to put it down. It didn’t matter anyway. The sounds in the room permeated the private bubble Jon’s kiss put her in and reminded her they were by no means alone. Feeling the erection pressing against her, she wished they were alone. But the taste of the scotch he’d been drinking was a reminder that unlike in July, tonight Jon wasn’t sober.

  He’d been polite and pleasant but definitely aloof all night, but now, many drinks later, he was all over her. There was nothing like some straight alcohol to make a man horny.

  Ali pulled back, breaking the kiss as her mind spun for something to say.

  Jon took a step back and dropped his hold on her. “I’m sorry. That was . . .”

  “The holiday? The scotch? The fact you’re happy to be home and alive.” She smiled. “Really, Jon, it’s all right.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Inappropriate was the word I was going for, but yeah, the rest of those all apply too.”

  She waited. For him to ask her out. For him to suggest they go somewhere more private. For basically anything.

  Jon hooked a thumb toward Rick’s bedroom door. “I’m gonna go hit the head.”

  That was the last thing she’d expected, but she nodded. “Okay.”

  “What the hell was with that kiss?” Darci’s voice brought her around before Jon had even cleared the doorway.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Ali’s brows shot high.

  Darci flicked one wrist. “That’s just Chris being Chris, but Jon and you? Oh my God—”

  Ali held up her hand to stop Darci. “Relax. That was the result of too much scotch.” She blew out a breath and looked around at all the remaining men in the room. “I’ve about had enough of the testosterone overload tonight. You ready to go soon?”

  Darci’s gaze cut to Zane, deep into texting someone. “Yeah. Definitely. Just let me throw some things in a bag. Be back in a minute.”

  “Sounds good.” Ali nodded.

  The sooner the better.

  It was easy to forget when Jon’s hotness was nearby and pressed against her, but Ali suspected things would go one of two ways and neither was good. She could have another fling and then spend the next months waiting and wondering if she’d ever hear from him again, or they could get involved more seriously. Then she’d have to live with all the secrecy, and his disappearing with no notice to travel who knew where to do God only knows what.

  Ali knew the deal. Yes, Jon was back stateside, but that was just a change of address. If Rick’s time with the unit was any example, Jon would mysteriously disappear for days or weeks at a time and come home with unexplained injuries, gunshot wounds included, only to say they were from a training accident.

  He’d lie about where he was going and why. He’d be vague about how long he’d be gone. All because of a job that would always come first. Before his family. Definitely before a girlfriend, if that was even what Jon wanted Ali to be.

  More likely was that Jon wanted a casual thing. Maybe that was smart, given his life. Then again, maybe he was just a man who’d take it anywhere he could get it, just like Zane appeared to be.

  Jon came back into the room. His eyes cut to her before he turned toward the guys who’d settled on the sofa. Things looked like they were winding down a bit. Ali put her glass down and moved into the kitchen. She figured she could get a jump on washing the glasses and gathering up the trash so when Darci was ready they could leave the guys on their own with a clear conscious and only the leftover food—if there was any—to be put away.

  The sooner she was away from the man who attracted her like he had his own gravitational pull, the better.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Damn, that was good.” With a full belly, Jon lay on the sofa like a slug, barely rallying the energy to raise the coffee cup to his mouth. He might be unsatisfied in the sexual department, but he sure as hell wasn’t lacking in food.

  Rick grinned. “Well, you really can’t screw up bacon and scrambled eggs, but thank you much.”

  “No?” Zane let out a snort. “The chow hall somehow manages to.”

  There was a chorus of grunts from the men as testament to that truth.

  Jon, Brody and Chris lounged in their underwear, while Zane and Thom, who were temporarily sans barracks accommodations and still had their travel bags in their vehicles, wore PT shorts.

  As the weather girl bounced across the screen on the television in front of a map showing the United States, Jon angled his head toward Rick.

  “So what’s your plans for today?” Jon eyed the mess in the kitchen, part a remainder from the party last night, part from this morning’s cooking. “Besides cleaning up, I mean.”

  Rick shrugged. “Nothing much. I’ve got work tomorrow so I figured I’d just kick back today.”

  “I’m going to try to call the wicked witch—I mean the ex-wife—and see if I can see the kids even though it’s not my scheduled day. She probably won’t let me, but it’s worth a try.”

  Chris blew out a breath. “Damn, Thom. That’s tough. I’m sorry.”

  “My own fault. She was a bitch when I got her pregnant and married her, so how can I be surprised she’s one now?” Thom shrugged.

  That reality check put a damper on Jon’s mood. Making a relationship work was tough enough. This life made it close to impossible.

  Speaking of relationships and women . . . another memory began to emerge from the haze of last night, besides his ill-advised mini-make-out session with Ali at midnight. Jon swiveled his head toward Zane. “Hey, you ever get any responses to your booty texts last night?”

  Every man in the room looked to Zane for a response. He frowned. “I don’t know. Where’s my phone?” He glanced around until he finally zeroed in on his pants. They were on the floor next to the sofa where he’d slept. Reaching down, he snagged them and felt in the pockets, pulling out a cell. He hit a button and let out a groan. “Mother fucker. Three texts. Dammit!”

  Jon chuckled. “Oh well. You were in no shape to drive anywhere or fuck anyone last night anyway.”

  Brody let out a laugh. “Who are you kidding? He would have had her pick him up.”

  “Hell, the lucky lady probably would have offered to pay a cab to come get him. For a sex god like Zane Alexander, just returned from six months away, nothing is too much.” Chris grinned.

  “And I assure you, drunk or sober, I can always fuck.” Zane delivered that declaration with a raise of his coffee mug.

  “Hey, guys. Look at this.” Rick reached for the remote control on the coffee table and raised the volume on the television as a breaking news bulletin came on.
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br />   Video of a passenger plane on a runway filled the screen. Emergency vehicles, kept at a safe distance, surrounded the aircraft.

  A broadcaster off-screen explained the situation, but Jon didn’t need to listen. The headline at the bottom of the screen told him all he needed to know.

  Hostage Situation in Ethiopia

  With a sigh, he pulled his feet off the ottoman and planted them on the floor. “Oh, well. That day off was fun while it lasted. Thanks for everything, Rick.”

  “Fuck.” Zane hoisted himself off the sofa.

  Thom groaned. “Frigging New Year’s Day? Couldn’t these bastards have chosen January second instead?”

  As Chris and Brody stood, Chris reached for his jeans and laughed. “Y’all are gonna have a fun day.”

  While buttoning his jeans, Brody frowned at the jumble of boots and sneakers littering the floor, no doubt searching for his. “We gotta get home quick so I can get cleaned up before we get called in. I’m not fixin’ to go into a mission needing a shower and with my mouth tasting like ass.”

  “I hear ya.” Jon had come to the party not intending to stay the night. He needed to get back to his house to brush his own teeth and shower before the inevitable recall came. Heading into the kitchen, Jon put his coffee mug in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes. “Sorry we can’t stick around to help you clean up.”

  Rick’s brow rose. “Yeah, I’m sure. You guys go home and do what you gotta do. And the homeless among you are welcome to use the two bathrooms here. There should be towels in both showers.”

  “Thanks.” Thom nodded.

  “Appreciate it, dude.” Zane headed for one doorway while Thom aimed for the other.

  After pulling on his shoes, Jon paused by the front door to glance back. “I’ll see you guys very soon, I’m sure. And thanks again, Rick. Tell your sister I said thanks too.”

  “Will do.” Rick nodded, his gaze holding Jon’s. “Stay safe.”

  Jon nodded and delivered his usual response. “That’s the plan.”

  ~ * ~

  “Ugh. There’s not going to be anything on any of the regular networks except this hijacking.” Ali reached for the remote control to switch to one of the cable stations.

  Darci opened her mouth and shut it again.

  Pausing, Ali glanced at her friend. “Do you want me to leave it on?”

  “No. It’s fine. Change it.” Darci shook her head. “It’s just after so many years, it’s hard getting used to the fact I don’t have to stay glued to the television when anything bad like this happens.”

  Realization hit Ali. “Because you thought Rick might be there.”

  “Yeah. Funny how his ‘trainings’ so often coincided with these kind of international happenings.” Darci made air quotes to emphasize the word trainings. “But he’s not there this time. He’s safe and sound at home, so change it. I’m good. Try the cooking channel. Or no, the home decorating network. It’s a new year. I have an itch to redecorate and have a fresh new home too.”

  Ali eyed Darci and then the television, which was still showing the same shot of the airplane that had been on screen for the past half hour.

  “Rick’s friends might be there. Guys you know.” Men who Ali now knew too. She said it as much to remind herself there was good reason she and Jon couldn’t give in to their attraction, as to remind Darci it was natural for her to be concerned.

  “I know. I hope Zane is done with his booty call, just in case they’re called in.” Darci’s joke rang hollow.

  Ali knew Darci would worry about Zane and all the guys, no matter what she said. So would Ali, about Jon in particular.

  It was an impossible situation, she and Jon. So why couldn’t she get that midnight kiss out of her mind? She hit the buttons to change the channel and forced herself to be interested in the woman decorating her dining room with antique silver for a New Year’s Day brunch.

  A commercial break came on and changing the subject seemed like the best course of action to get both of their minds off the guys. “I can’t believe we have to work tomorrow.”

  “I know. It sucks.”

  “Yup.” With that topic covered, Ali needed a new one. “More coffee? Or juice?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Okay, well let me know if you want anything. Or just help yourself.”

  “All right.” Darci wasn’t helping much.

  Ali gave up on trying to make conversation. She went back to pretending to watch the TV, but her mind wasn’t on the show. Not even close.

  CHAPTER 12

  The aircraft bounced onto the runway and Jon stretched. “Home again.”

  Zane lifted a brow. “Maybe this time we’ll be here longer than twenty-four hours.”

  His butt numb from the length of time spent in the uncomfortable seat, Jon had to agree. “One can only hope.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out and turned on his phone. After a few seconds, voicemails and texts began to flood in, sending the vibrating cell into a jig in his hand. Next to him, Zane’s phone did the same.

  Jon frowned. “What the hell? What did we miss?”

  They’d been brought in as back up for the unit stationed on the Horn of Africa, who was already on site in Ethiopia. After flying to Djibouti, Jon’s unit had cooled their heels for a bit in the SEAL encampment on Camp Lemonier waiting for orders. Finally, they were brought to the airport where the hijackers held the airplane and the hostages. There they got to sit around and wait some more.

  They’d been gone less than a week. Even so, it was obvious something had happened in that time.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Eyes on his cell, Zane started to press buttons. “Look’s like the bulk of them are from Rick and they came in today.”

  Crap. Rick always kept in touch but he’d never blow up Jon’s phone with messages when he knew they were gone. Not like this. Not even when some pretty important shit had happened in his life, like when he’d gotten hired at his new job and when he’d finally gotten a call from the girl he’d given his number to.

  “Something must be wrong.” The texts all said basically the same thing in different variations. Call. Jon moved on to the voicemails, hoping they might yield a clue.

  “Hey, y’all get a shit ton of messages?” Brody leaned over from his seat.

  “From Rick? Yeah.” Zane continued to scroll through his texts as Jon pressed his phone to his ear to listen to the voicemail.

  “Not just Rick.” Brody shook his head. “Chris texted more than once telling me to call him ASAP. Something must’ve happened.”

  Jon nodded. There was no other conclusion he could come up with based on the evidence.

  Yeah, in past when anything huge happened in the world—such as the taking out of Osama Bin Laden—Jon had gotten a bunch of messages from anyone and everyone who knew what he did for a living. Everyone assumed he’d been on that mission. The truth was, he’d been training in Mississippi at the time. Not that it mattered. He would have told everyone he wasn’t there, that he’d been training, even if it weren’t true.

  This mission hadn’t been anything like that. It wasn’t even like the high profile rescue of Captain Phillips from Somali pirates that Jon had actually been on, which had also yielded a bunch of texts, calls and emails.

  This mission, the hijacking in Ethiopia, was small potatoes in comparison. One shot had been fired, and it hadn’t been by Jon, but rather by one of the guys in the unit currently stationed in HOA. The head hijacker had given them a clear shot when he dragged a hostage to the open main cabin door of the aircraft. The mistake cost him his life. After that, the rest of the hijackers had come out with their hands up.

  Yes, it had probably all played out on television, as much as they’d tried to keep the news crews away, but it shouldn’t have garnered this kind of response, and not from seasoned operatives like Rick and Chris.

  A feeling of sickness settled in his gut as the voicemail message came on and Rick�
�s panicked voice filled his ear.

  “I’m trying all of you guys even though I know damn well you won’t get this if you’re still on the mission or in the air. Fuck! I don’t know what else to do. Just call me when you can. Please.”

  Something was wrong but Jon still didn’t know what. Giving up on the messages, he hit the button to dial. “I’m calling Rick now.”

  Brody nodded, focusing on his own cell. “I’ll hit up Chris and see what I find out.”

  Rick answered Jon’s call on the first ring. “Jon. Thank God.”

  “We just touched down and got your messages. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Darci. And God, Jon, Ali too. He’s got them locked in the bank.”

  Fighting his own reaction, Jon said, “All right, Rick. Slow down and give me the SITREP. Who has them locked in the bank?”

  Rick drew in a loud, shaky breath. “Okay. A witness outside the bank saw a masked man carrying an automatic weapon walk into the building at approximately eleven-hundred. She called 9-1-1. He’s locked three bank employees inside with an unknown number of customers.”

  Jon glanced at the time. Ali and Darci had been hostages for more than three hours.

  “So one hostage-taker and at least three, possibly more hostages?”

  “Yeah. The news says that a couple of the bank employees had gone on break right before the gunmen walked in. Christ, I wish it had been Darci.”

  “I know, Rick. Keep it together, man. Everyone’s going to be fine.” Jon had to believe that himself. “Are the authorities in phone contact?”

  “I don’t think so. They have a negotiator on a bullhorn trying to convince him to release at least the women. That’s all I know. I’m behind the police barricade with the rest of the civilians and press.”

  “Did you tell them your sister is in there?”

  “Yes, of course. They don’t give a shit.” Rick’s frustration was clear in his voice.

  The police wouldn’t want any collateral damage if things went bad, but Jon understood Rick’s feelings perfectly. He just couldn’t let his association with Darci or Ali cloud his thinking. Jon moved on to trying to find a motive for the situation. “Has the gunman claimed affiliation with any organization?”