Hot SEALs: Guard Dog (Kindle Worlds) (Stone Hard SEALs Book 3)

by Sabrina York

  She patted his hand. “There are always crazies out there. Bizarre emails, strange packages. Hate mail.”

  What the fuck? “Why the hell don’t you have a security team?” He didn’t mean to bellow. But he did.

  She tipped her chin. “I know Jiu-jitsu.”

  “Really? Didn’t help you much last night, did it?”

  “My hands were tied.”

  He wanted to throttle her. “Hardly the point.”

  “Kids. Kids. Kids. Keep it down,” Eli said. “You’re scaring the dog.” Indeed, Lola had slunk into her cage.

  Mason set his teeth. “You should have a security detail.” 24/7. He should be on it. Always. Forever.

  “I know that.” Her admission was soft, broken. He hated that. Hated that he’d done that to her, made her embrace her vulnerability. But seriously. Shit. She was not safe without him. She could not do this alone.

  “Okay.” Dane snapped his phone closed as he came back into the room, capturing everyone’s attention. “Yeah. First of all,” he turned to Pansy. “Your aunt is safe.”

  She collapsed against him and he held her close.

  “There was a small incident in Hong Kong.” From Dane’s tone, Mason knew it had not been a small incident at all. “There was an explosion and it seemed like we’d lost the target—”

  “Lost the target? What does that mean?”

  Dane paled. “I…ah…”

  “They thought she was dead, sweetheart,” Mason whispered in her ear. “But she’s not.”

  She turned to him. He could see the thoughts flickering through her mind. “Do you think Steven thought she was dead? And that’s why he changed his orders?”

  “That’s exactly what I think. I think he realized he didn’t need a vote to assume control, if you and your aunt were suddenly out of the picture.”

  She nodded. Brackets appeared around her mouth as she thought the disturbing scenario through. “The board of directors would have little choice but to vote yes on his proposal.” Her throat worked. “That bastard.”

  He did not know why tears pooled in her eyes, but they ruined him.

  “Baby, what is it?” he cupped her cheek, held her close, but she couldn’t answer as silent sobs wracked her.

  All the men, the bold, fearless, intrepid warriors, sat silent. Impotent. They could face any threat but a woman’s tears.

  “Hush. Hush. Sweetheart, what is it?”

  “It’s just…” She said through her hiccups and sobs, “I’ve always suspected my mother’s death was not an accident, but I couldn’t believe anyone would want to hurt her on purpose. But now…”

  “But now you know he has it in him.”

  “Yes. Yes.” She gripped his hand, hard. “Mason…I think Steven killed my mother.”

  And fuck.

  Now the bastard wanted her dead too.

  Chapter Eight

  Good lord, those guys could talk.

  Pansy huffed a sigh and wandered toward the window. They’d been at it all morning, through lunch and all afternoon. It was nearly time for dinner and they were still talking. They hashed and re-hashed her situation, running scenarios, pitching ideas and postulating ways to incite Steven into a confession.

  Although that was mostly Mason.

  To her deep and abiding satisfaction, he had determined it was not good enough to just keep her safe until the vote. He wanted Steven exposed, out of commission, and possibly incarcerated, though she suspected that wasn’t all. She suspected, from the ferocity in his tone, he wouldn’t complain if some bodily harm should befall her stepfather as well.

  And, to be frank, Pansy wouldn’t stop him should he decide to pummel the bastard.

  But what she really wanted, really needed, was for Steven to admit—in front of witnesses—that he’d killed her mother.

  She really needed closure.

  Thinking that her mom—that bright, curious, adventurous soul—had taken her own life was intolerable.

  And if Steven had done it—if he’d done what she suspected—Pansy wanted him to pay.

  She had no doubt Mason shared her conviction.

  His friends, not so much.

  They kept insisting that keeping her safe was far more important. The vote was next week at the company’s annual retreat in San Diego and they needed to keep her protected until then, at the very least. They insisted confronting Steven was reckless and dangerous and certain to fail. Why would he admit to a heinous crime? Especially when he’d gotten away with it? He most certainly wouldn’t admit it to his victim’s security team.

  “But wait,” Eli said after a long swathe of silence. “Maybe we can play him.”

  Three heads whipped around in tandem. Mason frowned. “How?”

  Eli shrugged. “He sent those four dudes after Pansy, right?”

  Mason’s fingers curled into a fist. “Yeah.”

  “And they’ve been…detained. She’s been here with you, out of sight, right?”

  “And?” Impatience threaded through Mason’s tone.

  Eli leaned back and grinned. “As far as he knows, she’s dead.”

  Dane leaned forward. “I’m not following you.”

  “Easy. We pay Mr. Wonderful a visit. Let him know, that after they did their job, his little dimwits went out and got really drunk and told us everything.”

  Pansy sat on the arm of Mason’s chair. “But they said they didn’t know who hired them.”

  “Right.” Eli winked. “That’s when we tell him we found Hester, and under, shall we say, the right inducements, he talked. Told us everything. Or enough for us to put the pieces together.” He shrugged. “And then we blackmail him.”

  Sander waggled a finger. “Right. Like we did with Hallwell.”

  “Yup.”

  Dane grinned and nodded. They all did, like monkeys. But Mason looked as befuddled as she was.

  Pansy shook her head. “I still don’t get the point of this.”

  “Simple, honey.”

  Mason growled at Eli’s endearment. Eli paled, cleared his throat.

  Sander continued for him. “We threaten to tell the authorities that he ordered your murder. We ask him for…what do you think? Ten grand?”

  “Twenty.” This from Dane.

  “Twenty grand. If he agrees to pay us off, then we hit him again. Reveal that we know he had your mother killed too. And we want another twenty for that.”

  “I don’t—”

  Mason pulled her onto his lap. “I think it could work. During the conversation, we can extract critical info.”

  Eli nodded. “Let him convict himself.”

  The light dawned. “You’ll be wearing wires. But…isn’t that illegal?”

  “Murder is illegal too.” This from Mason. In a snarl.

  “All we need is enough evidence to convince the DA to open a case and file charges,” Eli said.

  “Can you make him say those things?”

  She had no idea why they all grinned widely. “We are very good at what we do.”

  Mason set her on her feet as he stood. “I want to be on the team.”

  Dane frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? I’m one of the best.”

  His gaze flicked from Mason to Pansy and back again. “You’re too close.”

  “Yeah,” Eli chuckled. “Wouldn’t help our case if you clocked the bastard.”

  Judging from Mason’s flexing fists, he wanted to do just that. “I won’t clock him. I want to go in.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “It’s an excellent idea.” Mason used that tone, the one no sane person would dare defy.

  “I want to go too,” she said.

  Oh lord. She was not prepared for his feral response. “No fucking way.” He blanched at her expression then set his hands on her shoulders. “No, Pansy,” he said softly. “You stay out of sight. He needs to think you’re dead, remember.”

  “I could wear a disguise.”

 
; He tipped his head and lanced her with an incredulous look that spoke for him.

  “But if you’re going, who will be with me?” There was no call to be suddenly frightened, suddenly vulnerable, suddenly bereft at the thought of losing him…even for a moment.

  “I have friends in San Diego. They will look after you. I promise, you’ll be safe.”

  She tried not to put out a lip. More men she didn’t know?

  “They are the best of the best. Trust me.”

  “Who’re ya thinking?” Dane asked.

  “Drake and Ryder.”

  Dane frowned. “I thought they were deployed.”

  “They’re teaching at Coronado.” At his friend’s incredulous look he added, “They got married. Their wives wanted them closer to home.”

  Dane snorted and muttered, “I know the feeling. Now that I have a wife and kids…just can’t stand being away.”

  “Poor sods,” Eli muttered, but he did so with a grin.

  “Yeah, it gets better. Drake married Brandywine’s daughter.”

  Pansy had no idea why they all hooted.

  “Poor sod.”

  Mason shot her a grin. “Brandywine was our CO in training. He was a tough son of a bitch.”

  “Bet the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Mason nodded to Sander. “Yeah, but they’re both happy. And I know they’d be willing to help us out. Pansy can stay with them, on base. I can’t think of a safer place. No one gets on base without an anal probe these days.”

  They all laughed again, though Pansy didn’t see what was so funny. The last thing she wanted was an anal probe.

  “Well shit, boys.” Dane slapped his hands on his knees. “I think we got ourselves a plan.”

  “Yep,” Mason said. “We certainly do.” He turned around and shot her a grin. “What do you say, sweetheart? Up for a road trip?”

  * * *

  Pansy looked adorable dressed up as a tourist, but Mason was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate the padded mom jeans and sneakers the guys had picked up at the mall. The wig was a hideous mousy brown, and the sunglasses covered her features, but she still looked damn pretty.

  Because she was known for carrying her dog in her purse, Mason put the kibosh on letting her carry Lola to the parking garage; he didn’t want anyone to recognize her or the dog. Instead, Eli carried the beast down to the rented motorhome in a gym bag. Dane and Sander packed up some clothes for Pansy—and, at her insistence, some for Lola—and followed.

  Mason tried not to indulge in his glee at the thought of Lola in a gym bag, but he did feel a pinch of remorse when they climbed into the camper and Pansy opened the bag and the poor bedraggled rat emerged looking thoroughly traumatized. She shook her tiny body several times and then sneezed violently as though to clear her olfactory cavity of such indignity. And then she curled up on a pillow and whimpered and would not be consoled.

  “My poor baby,” Pansy cooed.

  “She’ll live.” He probably shouldn’t have been so blasé. Pansy pinned him with a scolding scowl.

  “She’s a delicate creature. For that matter, so I am.” She waved at the Formica table and the well-worn and slightly stained upholstery of the living room/kitchen/cab of the motorhome. There was a tiny bathroom and a small bedroom in the back. “I never dreamed I’d be traveling in one of these.” This she said as though he’d shoved her in the back of a turnip truck.

  He dropped onto the banquette across from her as Dane settled in the driver’s seat and Sander took shotgun. Eli had won their game of Rock-Paper-Scissors and was following on Mason’s bike. He didn’t like the idea of letting anyone ride his baby, but he liked the idea of being away from Pansy even less. He didn’t know how much time he had left with her, and he didn’t want to miss a minute.

  She wrinkled her perfect little nose. “I don’t know why we need a camper. It’s only a five hour drive.”

  “It’s perfect. You can rest while we travel. There’s a bathroom. Food and drinks. We won’t need to stop.”

  “But a camper? It’s hardly my style.”

  “Which is exactly the point. If there is anyone watching for you, they won’t be looking for someone in mom jeans and—”

  “Which are hideous, by the way.”

  “And tennis shoes.”

  She kicked off the sneakers, just to make a point. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  He grinned at her, which seemed to annoy her, but then an evil glint flared in her eyes. She turned her head and stared out the window as Dane revved up the engine and pulled out of the parking garage beneath her hotel.

  She seemed to be absorbed in her thoughts as she watched the lights of the strip flicker by. He tried not to be bothered by the sudden withdrawal but it was—

  Oh shit.

  Something touched his foot.

  He glanced at Lola—just to make sure she was still on her pillow, pouting. She was.

  The something rose higher, scraping along his calf, nudging at his sanity. Then higher. And higher still.

  He sucked in a harsh breath as that something—her foot, her bare-naked, dainty, exquisitely pedicured foot—landed in his lap.

  He nearly came out of his skin.

  Mason had never been much of a foot guy, but Pansy made him rethink that lapse. Especially as she rubbed his stiffening cock into full erection.

  Kind of awkward, with his buddies mere feet away, though Dane was focused on maneuvering onto the southbound ramp and Sander was fiddling with the GPS.

  She made a heinous sweep, ending with a dandle at the tip of his shaft. He swallowed heavily and grasped her foot. “You,” he murmured, “are a naughty girl.”

  Her smile blossomed. Something mischievous danced over her features. “What are you going to do?” A whisper. “Spank me?”

  Holy ever-loving God.

  Had he thought he was hard before?

  Her expression, her words, her intent, jerked a knot in his bowels. His voice dropped a notch and he grated out, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You know I would. Ooh.” A shiver skated through him at her tone. “My bottom needs a smack.”

  Fuckshit.

  What was she doing? Teasing him? Here? Now? Like this?

  When he could do virtually nothing to retaliate? Not without making a shit-ton of noise?

  So he did what he could. He growled a warning.

  Just that. A growl.

  She fluttered her lashes in response.

  Oh. She was going to get it.

  Master strategist that he was, he ran the probable scenarios in his head. The first and foremost was that he take her back into the bedroom, pull the ridiculous plastic accordion door closed, turn her over his knee and paddle her but good.

  Oh yeah. That was an awesome suggestion…except his gut crawled at the prospect of his compatriots serving as witnesses to a very private moment. And they would be listening.

  Another thought was to torment her as she was tormenting him, under the table. But upon reflection, that would not be nearly as satisfying as the third idea which, once it settled in his brain, would not be silenced.

  “Hey guys,” he called.

  “Yeah?” Dane tossed over his shoulder. The road ahead of them was dark, speckled with the oncoming lights of northbound traffic and a few flecks of red taillights, indicating that the freeway was not crowded.

  “Pansy is tired.”

  “I am?”

  He glared at her. “I’m taking her back to rest.”

  His friends exchanged a glance. And a grin. He ignored them both and took her wrist in a firm cuff that brooked no resistance.

  “Yeah, okay.” Sander bit back a grin and returned his attention to the GPS.

  Lola hopped off her pillow and followed then down the short hall, but Mason shot her a warning glance and closed the door in her face.

  The last thing he wanted for this was a spectator.

  The moment they were private, Pansy stepped into
his arms and tried to kiss him. He held her back. No. It was not going to be that easy. He would not be that easy. “Strip.” A whisper, one that rumbled through the room.

  “What?”

  “Don’t talk back. Just strip.”

  Her lips worked, but she complied and as she pulled off the hideous mom jeans—thank God—he cleared the bed, dumping the bags onto the floor. When she was naked—and God, was she glorious—he let her stand there, waiting, unsure.

  He let her stand there until she began to fidget.

  “Don’t move.” A whisper, but still a command. Her lips worked. Though the room was shadowed, the curtains drawn, he could still see her features, still revel in the lines and curves of her body. “I’m going to make you pay for teasing me.” It only seemed right that he warn her. He loved that she blanched. That her eyes flared. Her tongue peeped out to dab her lips. The scent of her arousal rose.

  Excellent.

  He bent down and rifled through the bags until he found what he wanted. He spread her robe out on the bed and waved at it. “Lie down.”

  Ah. He loved watching her obey. Her alacrity sent a ribbon of lust licking through him.

  “Hands over your head.”

  Again, she obeyed. Her expression heated.

  But when he pulled out the tie to her robe, and snapped it ominously, her jaw went slack. “Don’t move.”

  He leaned over her and looped the tie around her wrists. Not too tight that she couldn’t escape—and she knew she could—but secure enough to give her the sensation of bondage. A moan escaped her lips.

  “Hush.”

  He sat by her side and stared at her. His beautiful Pansy, splayed out before him and—

  With that thought, he pulled her ankles apart. Ah yes. Better. Completely open to him. Just as he wanted. Just as he craved.

  “Now,” he said in a pedantic tone. “I am going to teach you a lesson about teasing someone.”

  “I—”

  “Hush. You can say one word only. And you know what it is. Don’t you?” He met her gaze. She shivered. Her head bobbed. She squirmed, but only a little. Just enough to let him know she was ready.

  Excellent.

  So excellent.

  “Remember, don’t make a sound.”

  She nodded again. Pressed her lips together.

  And he began.