by J. M. Madden
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Mary Jernigan. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Brotherhood Protectors remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Mary Jernigan, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Wish Upon a SEAL
by
J.M. Madden
Acknowledgements
Elle, thank you so much for including me in your dream! Love ya, babe!
Donna, phenomenal as always. Thank you!
Sandie and Mayas, you girls seriously rock!!! Thank you!
Chapter One
Drake Hardwick scowled, totally out of his element. Give him an assault rifle or an M9 and a target, the more hostile the better, he was fine. Hell, he could make do for weeks on a ship at sea or in the middle of a desert alone. Anything would be better than being surrounded by this Pepto Bismol shit.
Dylan had called it some other name but it was still a God-awful pink.
The elegant outdoor gathering area of the Lodge of the Edgington Creek Resort in Eagleview, Montana had been overrun with pink flowers and wedding decorations. The log cabin exterior had somehow grown roses from every nook and cranny.
Luckily, all the femininity of the setting was counterbalanced by the testosterone of the military men in it. Navy SEALs crowded the area, from one end of the decorative fieldstone courtyard to the other, some in service dress and others in plain clothes, depending upon whether or not they'd been in the wedding. He hadn't been one of the lucky ones, so he wore what he considered dress-up a white button-up shirt, gray bow tie and black vest that gave him room to move. If he'd gone to the wedding, he would have had a new suit jacket fitted, but he, as well of most of the other grunts out here, had opted to come to the reception and leave the wedding itself for closer family.
Tension in his gut ratcheted up as he looked out over the sea of heads around him. The noise was a cacophony echoing in his head. It was almost wall-to-wall people and he needed air, space. Any one of these people could have an IED on them or a weapon. He started moving toward the far end of the courtyard.
Somebody bumped into his elbow so he stepped out of the flow of traffic, but almost immediately somebody else bumped into him, hard enough to slosh his beer out of the bottle. Cursing, he held it away from himself, hoping to miss his vest and an embarrassingly wet front, then turned to glare at whoever had knocked into him.
"Oh, excuse me, I am so sorry. It's a little crowded here."
Drake blinked, the harsh words he'd been about to snap falling away at the sound of her husky voice. A tallish woman in a slim sleeveless dress of Pepto color grinned up at him, wild honey-blond hair whisping around her face. She rested a slim hand on his arm.
"I'll get you a new beer," she promised. "I'm Isobel. My friends call me Izzy."
She thrust out a hand and he responded automatically. Her palm was tiny and incredibly soft. Softer than anything he'd felt in a while. He jerked his hand away and shook his head. "Don't worry about the beer. It was my fault we collided. Drake," he added as an after thought, then had to wonder why he'd given her his real name. He was Zero to everyone else here.
Her bright green gaze lingered on his face and skull-trimmed head before drifting down his brows, cheeks, chin, nose before they settled on his lips for a long second. The woman blinked and her gaze scanned down the rest of his body. Zero felt a surge of interest. The woman wasn't the type that normally drew him, but something about her... He suddenly realized that the panicked tightness in his throat he had been feeling had completely faded away as he’d looked at her, talked to her.
"Oh," she looked a little nonplussed as she met his gaze again, her cheeks flushing. “No, it was totally my fault. I came with a date but I’m kind of hiding from him now,” she grinned conspiratorially.
Before he could pursue the conversation, a woman tugged on her hand from the opposite side. Izzy turned away with a laugh, wiggling her fingers at him as she left.
Scowling even harder at the strange incident he turned away from the retreating woman. There was too much traffic here. He needed to find a corner and bide his time before he could politely leave. Most of the guests had arrived, and apparently the bridesmaids and groomsmen had arrived, judging by all the pink clothing, but they were waiting for Dylan and Kiko. He'd heard something about official photos of the married couple. Weaving through a line of chairs he headed toward the far corner of the rustic patio, where an abandoned mini bar sat dark. Before he could make it there, though, one of his team waved him over.
There were a lot of men out here to celebrate the marriage of one of their own. At least a hundred and fifty. It had been a huge turnout considering how far away they were from the ocean. Montana didn't have any body of water big enough for a SEAL he didn't think. Dylan Cutler had only been on SEAL Team 8 for less than four years but he was a good man and everyone seemed to respect him. It was why they'd turned out in such numbers tonight. Well, that and the free beer.
Drake looked around the venue. The Resort probably wasn't cheap, and it looked like Kiko’s father had pulled out all the stops. He was a plastic surgeon from Los Angeles and had to be footing this monstrous bill. Drake seriously doubted Dylan and Kiko had the kind of cash the resort demanded for these things. Rich and some famous people, obviously clients of the doctor, wandered the crowds, smiling benevolently for the wandering photographers. Drake shook his head, wondering at the eclectic mix of people.
The open-air courtyard outside the resort was perfect for their group. Bars at either end with a dance floor and band in the middle. There was a raised dais for the wedding party. A breeze blew in from the large pond to the east, but it was warm and fragrant. They had been warned to bring cool weather gear, because nights in Montana could turn frigid in a blink.
Logan Connaught shoved one of the white, padded folding chairs in his direction when he stopped at the group.
"Have a seat, Zero. Tell us about the blond you just splashed beer on. Is she as hot as she looks from here?"
Drake frowned at the incorrect details but lowered himself into the chair. It wasn’t as crowded here. He could socialize for a few minutes but he didn't want to talk about the intriguing blond. "I didn't spill beer on her."
Logan looked a little crestfallen. "Damn. I thought you had. Is she with someone?"
He lifted one brow. "I talked to her for, literally, two seconds before she was pulled away. We didn't get around to her dating history, but yes, I think she’s with someone."
The younger man looked even more put out with him. "She's beautiful. You should have grabbed her."
Obviously the liquor was having an effect already. "I'm sure she would have appreciated that."
“I think she showed up with a dark-haired guy,” Fetch put in helpfully. “But it didn’t seem like they were getting along.”
In spite of himself he glanced through the crowd, looking for naturally curly blond hair, but he didn't see the woman. As the conversation degenerated around him, Drake leaned back and nursed what was left of his beer. Stokes shoved a second one into his hand and he was more than happy to take it.
As he listened to the rowdy conversation and dating advice swirling around him, smiling slightly where he needed to, he wondered if they heard how crazy they
sounded. Most of the SEALs around him were younger than he by many years. Drake was creeping up on his fourteenth year, a long time in a hard-hitting job like his. Gabe Carter, a friend of his, had left the team following his battle buddy's suicide to join a detective agency out of Denver, and there had been shuffling in the ranks. Drake had taken Carter's place as lead coxswain deployed via the USS Carl Vinson. It was exciting and a real ego-stroker, this job, but he was beginning to get tired. More than once he'd wondered about calling Carter up and hinting around about a change of pace. He knew Carter was here at the reception. He’d have to find him and have a word.
Drake was one of the oldest operators in the teams. Most of the kids looked up to him and his experience but there were a few that definitely just wanted to push him out and take his spot.
Drake grinned slightly. He found he wasn't struggling against the ambitious ones as much as he used to. Maybe Gabe Carter and Max Tate, another SEAL who had left for the Denver agency, had the right idea in getting out early before their bodies started to betray them.
Hank Patterson was another SEAL who had gotten out of the military before his body was beat all to hell. 'Montana', as he'd been called in the teams, had created a protection service for the rich and famous that had begun to settle into the area. Drake glanced at him now. The big man had an arm curled protectively over the shoulders of his beautiful love, Sadie McClain, a Hollywood actress. She'd been his first job in the area, and Drake thought she would also be his last if the look in their eyes was anything to go by.
Letting the conversation swirl around him, he glanced around the area.
The pink decorations were enough to give him a seizure, but he guessed the party had been well-done. There were frilly decorations on every conceivable surface, or pretty colored beads. There were plenty of snacks and tubs of beer sitting right alongside the caviar and champagne, and everyone was getting along even though they were very different demographics. The main buffet would be served in a while, once the bride and groom arrived.
There was a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head in time to see the woman from earlier being tugged like a boat through the crowd by a glowering, dark-haired man. Drake's senses spiked as he saw Izzy's face. She was not happy. No, more than that, she was struggling to get her hand free. With a jerk, she snatched her hand away, crossing her arms over her breasts. The man leaned into her face and words were exchanged, before he held out an arm mockingly for her to precede him through the door.
After a moment, Izzy waked through the door.
Before he even realized what he was doing he'd left the boat team and strode across the venue, cowboy boots pounding. Ducking through the same hallway the couple had he quieted his steps down the carpeted hallway of the opulent lodge. He'd lost sight of them but he thought they might still be close.
A woman screamed, but it was quickly silenced, as if a hand had been slammed over her mouth. Heart thudding in excitement, he followed the muffled cry.
Izzy dragged her feet, but she ended up tripping because of the damn heels she'd promised Kiko she would wear for the wedding. They tangled her feet and gave Brendon that much more leverage on her arm.
"Come on, Izzy. We need to get some things straight. You seem to think you have the control in this relationship."
She took offense at the words. "Whatever. Relationship? Really? Okay, let’s talk. Like why don’t you tell me why the hell you came to the wedding of one of my best friends and acted like an asshole? Are you drunk? Doing drugs? You weren’t like this yesterday at dinner, so you’re obviously on something. Or is this your natural behavior coming out?"
Quicker than a snake Brendon turned and shoved her up against a wall. They were well away from the crowd now in some kind of employee break room and as he leaned into her face, breath reeking, Izzy realized it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize him. He’d already had too much to drink or snort. No. Fuck that. If he had plans for her to ‘straighten up’ she had better be making noise. She could only hope that one of those crazy, semi-drunk SEALs out there just outside the door could hear her. Opening her mouth, she screamed.
The hand that slapped over her mouth was not careful and her head ricocheted off the wall. Struggling, she used her other hand to slap at Brendon but he leered into her face. "Go ahead and fight. Doesn't bother me at all. Actually, it excites me."
He leaned his hips into her suggestively and Izzy felt exactly how excited he was, but she wasn’t impressed. She began to kick out harder, but he was too close for her to get any leverage.
The hand over her mouth was also blocking her airway. In desperation she raked her freshly done nails down the side of his face, taking skin in a long scrape. Immediately he drew her head back with his strong hand and slammed her against the wall again. Bright bursts of color washed out her vision and then it began to dim. Oh, hell. If he knocked her out, she would be in trouble.
She fought with a desperation she had never felt before. Just because he was bigger it didn't mean that he was going to win this. Arching her back away from the wall she reached for something to fight with. Her fingers snagged a wooden something and she gripped it, swinging with all her might. The industrial plunger struck Brendon in the side of the head, making him stagger.
But then suddenly she was free. Her rubbery legs gave out beneath her and she slumped to the floor, landing hard on her hands and knees. She gasped for air and looked up, trying to see where her assailant had gone.
The badass guy with the skull-trim and the fierce, cold eyes, Drake, had taken Brendon to the floor and had twisted his arms into pretzels. The younger man cried out in pain and Izzy found herself grinning. "That's what you get, you stupid ass."
Brendon didn't seem to be listening, though. His focus was on the immovable force on his back about to break his arms. Izzy kind of wished Drake would just break them. Instead he leaned down and began whispering in Brendon's ear. Izzy couldn’t hear what he said, but it must have been frightening. At first the younger man gave no response. Then Drake's words began to slow down and Brendon's eyes widened. Finally, he nodded and Drake let him up.
Brendon moved slowly, as if afraid he would be jumped again. He turned to her as if to apologize, then something went hard in his bloodshot eyes. With a sudden lunge he lurched at her rescuer, small flip blade pocketknife in hand. Izzy cried out as they made contact, then the newcomer's fists were flying. Brendon went down like a ton of bricks, groaning. Blood had splattered all around his nose and coated his chin. That sucker was pulverized.
Her rescuer scowled down at Brendon on the ground. "Seriously? You're in a group of Navy SEALs and you pull a damn pocket knife on me?"
Drake reached behind his back and drew out a truly fearsome black blade, at least a foot long, serrated on one side. Holy crap!
Brendon finally seemed to realize how outclassed he was. Pushing to his feet, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face, he turned to her. "I'm sorry things got out of hand. It was all a misunderstanding."
He turned, supporting his wrenched arm, and left. The Navy SEAL slipped the blade away without even looking and stepped toward her.
Izzy couldn't believe how quickly her situation had turned around. One minute she was being harassed and the next she was being saved by what she thought was a drunk wedding guest. He hadn’t moved like he was intoxicated though. He’d moved like a movie hero. She staggered to her feet and leaned against the wall. Drake stepped close enough to grip her elbow and Izzy jerked in surprise at the warmth of his hand against her skin. Oh, she didn't expect that.
She looked up at his harsh face. Damn. The expression he wore was completely terrifying, but not necessarily to her. He stared at the door Brendon had bolted through as if waiting for him to come back. Then the coldest silvery ice gray eyes she'd ever seen turned her way.
"Are you okay?"
The sound of his rumbling, rough baritone sent a shiver through her gut, but again, not in fear. No, the reaction
she felt was completely more dangerous.
"I-I'm fine, I think." Izzy blinked. Had she actually just stuttered for a man? She lifted a hand to her head. "He just rattled my bones. I don’t think I’ll even have a knot."
The man turned to her fully and reached a hand up to replace hers, rubbing gently. If possible, his expression hardened even more. "You might," he said. Then his gaze drifted lower. "You do have a split lip."
A hard thumb gently brushed against the area and Izzy realized it was throbbing as well. When he drew his hand away there was blood on the pad of his thumb.
"I forgot about that,” she whispered.
And now it hurt just as much as her head, damn it.
Izzy straightened her legs but didn't pull away from his grip on her elbow. It felt too nice. And holy Batman he smelled good. "I have to thank you," she said, but he shook his head, brushing her words away.
"No thanks needed. I'm glad I glanced up when I did." His pale eyes drifted up. "Actually, your hair caught my attention."
Izzy grinned and lifted a hand to the mass, which surely looked beautiful right now. She pressed it down, but that kind of hurt her head. Okay, it would have to stay crazy. "Yeah, it kind of likes to fly it's own way, especially in the breeze."
Without saying anything he captured one spiral curl between his fingertips and tugged down its length. When he released it, the curl sprang back into place.
The big man blinked, then moved as if to step back. Izzy leaned toward him, just the slightest bit, and he paused. "You know," she whispered, "just before you came in I wished upon a SEAL."
Confusion clouded his features. "What?"
She waved a hand. "There were so many of you out there, I hoped that somebody would come to my rescue, because he was too much for me. I mean, I pride myself on being able to get out of any situation, but I was definitely in a pickle when you came in. So, I wished that one of the many Navy SEALs out there would hear my scream and come to my rescue."