The Reckless Warrior (Navy SEAL Romance)

by Jennifer Youngblood

  No, not her.

  Disbelief widened Tuck’s eyes. “You shot me.” He backed away, holding a hand over the wound in his torso as he slumped to his knees, then fell to the floor.

  Delaney gasped, the hard reality of what had just happened overtaking her. Her body shook, her mind whirling. Somehow, she managed to get to her phone. She pressed 911.

  “My ex-husband broke into my condo.” Her voice broke. “I shot him.” She looked at the blood pooling like an ink stain over his clothes. “I—I think I killed him.” She dropped the phone and fell to her knees, sobbing.

  2

  A curious numbness came over Delaney as she stood in front of Tuck’s hospital bed. He was in a coma, tubes hooked to his motionless body. She should feel grief, shouldn’t she? She’d loved him once. But that love had been snuffed out, a bitter hatred filling the empty space.

  No charges were being filed against her. It was a clear-cut case of self-defense. Tuck drugged her bodyguard, who thankfully was okay, and broke into her condo with the intent to rape and possibly murder her. While Delaney didn’t have to worry about the legal repercussions, the media was having a heyday with the story. Milo was trying his best to do damage control for Delaney and the record label.

  Milo was surprised and apprehensive when Delaney announced that she wanted to visit the hospital. He tried to talk her out of it, saying the press would be all over her. “The press will hound me regardless,” she’d answered and could tell from the expression on Milo’s face that he knew she was right.

  Just as they suspected, Delaney had to fight her way through a throng of reporters camped near the entrance of the hospital. They shoved their microphones in her face and demanded answers, but she kept her eyes fixed forward and pressed through them. She needed to come here … needed to put closure on the situation. According to the kind nurse who’d pulled Delaney aside and quietly relayed the information, Tuck’s prognosis wasn’t good. He’d lost a tremendous amount of blood, putting him into a coma. The doctors weren’t sure if he’d ever regain consciousness.

  How did Delaney feel about the news? Relief that Tuck could no longer hurt her? Sorrow for taking the life of someone she once loved? Maybe it was a combination of both.

  She hugged her arms. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Sorry that it had to end this way.” She paused, tears stinging her eyes. “But you hurt me. Took away my dignity.” Her voice shook. “And I hate you for that.”

  “I always told Tuck you’d end up destroying him.”

  She whirled around. “H—Hugh?” She let out a shaky laugh, her hand going to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

  “Just got in this morning.”

  The icy look in Hugh’s eyes caused a pit to form in her stomach. Unlike Tuck, Hugh didn’t have a hot temper, but he was calculating and dangerous. The familial resemblance between the brothers was strong, except Hugh’s face was blocky, his features craggy.

  “Did you come to witness your handiwork?”

  The accusation in Hugh’s voice was a punch in the stomach. She rushed to explain. “Tuck broke into my condo with a gun. He tried to rape—”

  “Save it,” he snarled, holding up a hand. “That which happens between a man and his woman behind closed doors is none of my business.”

  She shook her head, disgust prickling over her. “And therein lies the problem. You’ve always turned a blind eye to Tuck, given him carte blanche to do whatever the heck he pleased. He was trying to rape me!”

  A ruthless expression twisted Hugh’s face, making him look inhuman. “Watch your mouth,” he hissed.

  She rocked back, alarm trickling over her. Hugh was a dangerous man, not one to tangle with.

  He flashed a contemptuous smile. “I’m glad you’re here so I can say this in person.”

  Her heart dropped. This couldn’t be good.

  He leaned forward, his voice barely over a whisper. “Whether you like it or not, you and Tuck are intertwined.”

  This was sounding like an eerie repeat of what Tuck had said.

  “If he lives, you live. If he dies, you die.”

  She gasped, a roar starting in her ears. “It was an accident.”

  He just looked at her with a placid expression more terrifying than anger could’ve ever been.

  A hysterical chortle rose in her throat. “You can’t be serious. You’re talking about murder.”

  “An eye for an eye,” he said firmly.

  This whole scenario was insane. Hugh was insane. She had to get out of here. She turned to flee the room. But before she could get out the door, she heard the leering amusement in Hugh’s voice.

  “Run little chickadee, run all you want. But know this. No matter where you go, I’ll find you if the situation warrants. You have my word on that.”

  3

  When Corbin approached the security guard at the gate of Sutton Smith’s mansion he rolled down the window of his rental car.

  “Your name, Sir?” the guard asked.

  “Corbin Spencer.”

  The man’s eyes trailed down the list. Then he nodded. “Have a nice evening.”

  “Thanks,” Corbin said curtly as he continued to the mansion. It was in a private area of an exclusive section of Coronado Island, overlooking the San Diego Bay. Corbin had spent a handful of weekends here lounging by the pool and doing various other leisure activities, but never without Doug. His gut twisted as he thought about his best friend and fellow SEAL member, who’d been killed during a rescue mission in the Philippines when their platoon was ambushed. It had been seven months since Doug had passed, but tonight on the grounds of his estate the wound felt as raw as it had in the beginning.

  When he reached the mansion, a valet attendant approached. “May I park your car, Sir?”

  Corbin got out and tossed the keys to the attendant in exchange for a claim ticket. Then he smoothed down his white tuxedo jacket and adjusted the bowtie. He wasn’t looking forward to the pretense of making small talk with a group of strangers at some party. And the worst part … wearing this stupid monkey suit constricting his shoulders like a strait jacket.

  Even though the event was black-tie, Corbin had planned to wear nice jeans and a sports jacket. But then, this afternoon, a tux was delivered to his room compliments of Sutton Smith. Too bad it was about a half size too small. Corbin couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to strip the thing off and put on jeans and a t-shirt.

  He ran a quick hand through his spiky hair, figuring he was as ready now as he’d ever be. His gaze took in the sprawling English Tudor mansion. The only reason Corbin knew the architectural style was because Doug mentioned that his dad had brought in an English architect during construction to make sure the style was authentic. Sutton Smith’s enormous wealth was staggering, and yet Doug had been so down-to-earth.

  The place was brimming with high-society people dressed to the nines. As Corbin strode up the front steps, he thought back to the phone call that brought him here. Corbin was surprised to hear from his late friend’s dad. He hadn’t spoken to Sutton since Doug’s funeral. At that time, Sutton was withdrawn … angry at the world. Corbin didn’t blame the man. He felt the same way about Doug’s death.

  Sutton opened the conversation by inquiring what Corbin was doing professionally. Then he extended an invitation to a gathering. Corbin grunted as he looked at the large staff of servers dressed in uniforms, scurrying to wait on guests. When he heard the word “gathering,” Corbin assumed there might be twenty or thirty people present. But this was a full-fledged soirée with more people than he could count.

  Corbin was currently living in Denver, Colorado and was short on funds. Before he could make up an excuse about why he couldn’t attend the gathering, Sutton explained briskly that he’d already purchased Corbin a first-class ticket for the following day and booked him a room at The Luxe, a five-star hotel. Sutton went on to say that he had a proposition for Corbin and that he would pay him twenty-five
hundred dollars for his time.

  A free trip and an extra twenty-five hundred bucks were too good to turn down. Besides, Corbin’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t imagine what Sutton Smith wanted to talk to him about. He scoped the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Sutton. No luck.

  He glanced at the string quartet off to the side, playing a merry tune. All around him, people were engaged in lively conversation. The air crackled with the excited hum of people enjoying themselves. The corners of his lips pulled down. There was nothing worse than being a loner in a crowd. Hopefully, he’d find Sutton soon.

  “Would you like an appetizer?”

  Delaney smiled politely before placing two spinach triangle pastries on her plate. “Thank you.”

  The server nodded and moved to the next guest.

  It was too bad that Milo couldn’t be here tonight. Then Delaney wouldn’t feel so out of place. Milo had arranged her meeting with Sutton Smith, then realized that his girlfriend’s son had the starring role in a school play. She sighed, taking a bite of the pastry. It was dryer than a chunk of sawdust. She coughed, trying to clear the crumbs from her throat. Now she needed a drink of water. She signaled to the closest server.

  “How may I help you?” he said in a brisk, formal tone.

  She touched her throat. “Could I get a glass of water?” Before my windpipe closes off.

  “Certainly.” He raised his hand and motioned to a girl across the room. She hurried to Delaney’s side and gave her a glass.

  Delaney took a few gulps. Okay, no more pastries. She glanced around the room, looking for a place to sit. When she first arrived and told the greeter her name, she was directed to an older lady who introduced herself as Agatha.

  “Sutton is expecting you,” Agatha said, “but he’s tied up with guests. As soon as he’s done, he’ll find you. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

  Delaney let out a long sigh. From the looks of things, it was bound to be a long night. She really couldn’t complain though because she was just glad Sutton agreed to meet with her. Ever since Hugh had threatened her in the hospital, Delaney had been beside herself. Right after it happened, she called Milo, bawling so hard that she could hardly get the words out. He’d met her at a coffee shop, and she told him the whole sordid story. At first, Milo told her to go to the police. Then she explained how ruthless Hugh was and how she feared the police wouldn’t be able to protect her against him.

  Finally, Milo said he might have another option. Delaney had laughed out loud when that option turned out to be billionaire philanthropist, Sutton Smith. Then Milo told her a story about his girlfriend Leslie and how Sutton had saved her from her abusive husband Howie. But Sutton didn’t stop there. He also gave Leslie money to pay for her son’s leukemia treatments. Those treatments had saved the boy’s life.

  It was hard to believe that someone like Sutton Smith would do something so kind, asking nothing in return. Sure, he was a philanthropist. But most people like him simply donated money to charity and left it at that. Milo told Delaney that he would put out feelers, see if he could get in touch with Sutton and explain her situation.

  The whole thing sounded farfetched, but Delaney was desperate enough to try anything. Fear was eating her alive. She had no doubt that Hugh would make good on his threat, and Tuck’s prognosis wasn’t looking good. The bullet wound had gotten infected. The doctors were amazed that he was still hanging on. Delaney had spent the last few days in a fog, hardly eating or sleeping. She’d tried to work, but it was impossible to get into a creative frame of mind with this hanging over her.

  Even though Tuck had been so horrible to her, she didn’t want to be responsible for his death. And then to add Hugh’s threat into the mix, it was too much to deal with. She felt like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Prayer was the only thing keeping her functioning. She’d been praying every day for a miracle. And today, the dark curtain of clouds had parted for one tiny second, giving her hope that help might be around the corner.

  Milo called this morning, telling her the good news. “Sutton agreed to meet with you at his estate. But he’s having a party, so it’ll have to be afterwards.”

  “I’ll just wait and go after the party’s over,” Delaney had said.

  “No, Sutton’s assistant was adamant that you come to the party.”

  Milo couldn’t remember the lady’s name he spoke with, but Delaney was sure it was the older woman she’d met earlier … Agatha.

  The plate of uneaten pastries was starting to feel heavy in her hand. She didn’t want to hold the blasted thing all night. She caught the nearest server. “Can I give this to you?” Her feet were aching. Why hadn’t she worn lower heels?

  The man nodded. “Of course. May I take your glass also?”

  “I think I’ll hold onto it. Thanks.” It was one of those moments when Delaney was glad she was on the verge of hitting it big instead of a superstar like Dolly Parton or Montana Crew. It was good to still have some degree of anonymity. Of course at an event like this, most of the people were prominent and too preoccupied with their own importance to worry about Delaney’s.

  Absently, her mind wandered over the crowd. She caught sight of her bodyguard keeping a respectable distance. He gave her a slight nod as if to say, I’m nearby, doing my job. Her gaze moved to two middle-aged women engaged in an animated conversation. They were both so skinny they looked like skeletons, their faces stretched like plastic from so many cosmetic surgeries. Absently, she glanced toward the entrance as she took another sip of water. She nearly choked when she saw a man stride in, his angular jaw set firm like he owned the place. It had been a long time since she’d even noticed a man’s appearance, much less found anyone attractive. Partly because she’d been too wrapped up in her career and mostly because the ordeal with Tuck had left her fearful about having a relationship. But she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away from this guy.

  He had a rugged edge like he would’ve been more comfortable in casual clothes, although he certainly knew how to fill out a tux. He was a little over six feet tall with lean muscles—GI Joe on steroids. He walked with purpose, his eyes scoping the room like he was looking for someone. It’s me! I’m the one you’re looking for. She laughed at herself. Seriously? Where had that thought come from? The fact that she was even noticing a guy right now spoke to her frenzied emotional state. If Tuck didn’t pull through, she’d soon be fleeing for her life. Her career would be snuffed out before it even got a chance to blossom. She’d have to go into hiding. And even then, Hugh would eventually find her. As bad as Tuck was, Hugh was a thousand times worse. He wouldn’t think twice about taking her life, or anyone else’s who got in his way. Her chest constricted, sweat beading across her nose. She balled her fist, willing herself to calm down. Hopefully, Sutton would be able to help. She had to keep her mind fixed on the hope of deliverance.

  The guy’s gaze connected with hers, sending a dart of warmth coursing through her veins. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and she felt herself smile back. The room shrank, all the people around her melting into a blur, and there was only him and her. Her heart hammered in her chest. He was coming her way. No! She couldn’t do this! This guy would hurt her the same way Tuck had. Why was she always attracted to the wrong sort of man? This guy was tougher than nails, a rebel. She could tell from his swagger, the confident glint in his eyes.

  She broke eye contact and quickly turned her back to him. She wasn’t here to pick up on men. The fact that she’d felt so attracted to some random guy made her sick to her stomach. Hurriedly, she threaded through the people, intent on getting as far away from GI Joe as she could.

  That was odd … the girl. Talk about hot and cold. One minute, she was giving Corbin a come-hither look, and the next, she was turning her back and running the other direction. He scowled. She was probably some high-society chic playing games. Too bad. She was stunning to look at. And for an instant, when their eyes locked, he’d felt a connection.

  He
threaded his way to the wall where he could observe the people in the room from a more inconspicuous place. Plus, he liked having his back protected. Still no sign of Sutton. Odd that he’d be MIA at his own party. Then again, there were so many people here, and the place was enormous. Sutton could be anywhere. He stood for another twenty minutes or so, still no sign of Sutton.

  Finally, he got bored from being in the same spot and strode over to the bar and ordered a drink as he sat down at an open barstool. What must it be like to live a life of such grandeur? He thought of the modest cabin in the tiny town of Birchwood Springs, Colorado where his grandfather Pops and sister still lived. It was certainly a simpler life than this. And as far as Pops was concerned, the only way to live. Guilt tugged at him. It had been too long since he’d been home. He knew he should go back, but he couldn’t handle thinking about Gram’s situation.

  The bartender returned with his drink. He mumbled out thanks and took a drink, the liquid burning like fire down his throat. He looked to his right and realized a pretty redhead was giving him the eye. He offered a brief smile before angling away from her. The girl was flashy, obviously on the make. He’d been around her type enough to know that he wasn’t interested.

  He looked to his left and did a double-take. It was her—the blonde he’d seen when he first arrived. Sitting a few seats away from him. As stunning as she’d been from afar, she was even more so up close. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a sheet of glimmering honey. The form-fitting red dress hugged her curves in a classy way. He’d hoped she might look his direction, so he could get her attention, but she was staring down at her drink, like her mind was a thousand miles away. Sure, she was beautiful, but there were lots of beautiful women in this room. For a moment, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that had captured his attention. Then it hit him—it was the haunted expression on her face. It called to his own wounded soul.