Hot SEAL, Tijuana Nights

by Cat Johnson

  “Address?” Silas asked.

  Zach rattled off the address of the house where he’d gotten drunk—and slept it off—played cards and watched almost every big game for the past five years or so.

  Compass always complained about his apartment, but it was perfect as far as the team was concerned. It was conveniently located and Compass was a good host.

  He’d been the first among them to invest in an insanely large flat screen television. That made his place party central. And tonight Compass’s empty apartment, and his parking spot in the garage, would serve Zach’s purposes perfectly.

  “Great,” Silas said. “We’ll send the team to set up surveillance in the neighborhood. You drive there, leave the boxes in the car and go inside. Pretend everything is normal. We’ll handle the rest.”

  “What if they don’t come for the drugs tonight?” Zach asked.

  “They will. They’re not going to want to risk them being discovered.”

  “Okay. We’re heading to the border now.” He hesitated. “You sure you got that border crossing covered? I’m in no mood for a cavity search.”

  He also wasn’t in the mood to spend the night in a Mexican jail and he’d rather Gabby never have that experience either.

  Silas laughed. “You’re good. I’ve already been on the phone with the commissioner of Customs and Border Protection.

  Satisfied with that answer, Zach said, “All right. I’m hanging up and heading there now.”

  “We’re with you all the way,” Silas said one more time.

  Zach only hoped it was the truth. He disconnected the call and glanced at Gabby. “You ready for this?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “We’re gonna be fine.”

  “Will you stay with me? In your friend’s house?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I’m with you for as long as it takes.” He reached out and squeezed her hand before realizing it felt too—intimate? He hated the word but it fit.

  Intimate and nice. It felt good to hold Gabby’s hand—and that’s why he let it drop.

  “What about my tile?” she asked. “You don’t think they’re going to seize it as evidence, do you?”

  He shot her a glance. “They might.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well they can’t. I need it for the job. I don’t get final payment until I finish.”

  He let out a short laugh. “One day you’re really going to have to consider your priorities.”

  She screwed up her mouth. “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

  He let out a snort. “Not surprised.”

  “Zach,” she said.

  “Yeah?” He glanced at her, one hand resting on the gearshift in the center console.

  “I’m kind of starving. Maybe once we’re across we can stop. I know this isn’t a good time—”

  “No. It’s the perfect time.” He was starving too. That crunchy bar Gabby had given him had been like chewing on sawdust covered in chocolate. And he enjoyed a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat in front of a man.

  Fuck it.

  If they were going to be the DHS’s bait for a drug runner the minute they crossed the border, then he was all for delaying that event for an hour or so.

  “They have anything other than salad at that Caesar’s place?” He tipped his chin toward the restaurant just a little way down the street.

  Zach needed time to think, weigh what was happening, plan a contingency. A quick half hour meal would provide that, and get some food in both their stomachs.

  He could follow orders but he could also think on his feet. Blindly following his command’s orders was one thing, but Zane and Silas were strangers to him—civilian strangers now by their own admittance.

  “Yes.” She nodded in answer to his question. “Everything on the menu looked really good.”

  It had been a while since he’d enjoyed a night in Tijuana. Tonight with Gabby wouldn’t be anything like those nights on liberty with the team, but it would do.

  He pulled the key out of the ignition and shot her a smile. “Let’s go. And we can call Amanda from the restaurant. She’s worried about you.”

  Gabby lifted a brow. “And us telling her about my trunk filled with drugs will make her feel better?”

  Hand on the door handle he shot her a glance. “How about we leave that part out?” he suggested.

  “Do you know your sister?” she asked, the question ripe with sarcasm.

  She was right. His sister should have gone into the legal profession, or maybe law enforcement. She could conduct an investigation and fire off the questions better than any prosecutor.

  He drew in a breath. “Okay, maybe we text her instead, then turn off your phone.”

  “Much better plan.” She nodded then paused, not moving to get out of the SUV. “Zach. In case we don’t get out of this and we end up dead or in prison, I just wanted to say thank you.”

  He halted. She might think she was joking when she mentioned death and prison, but the possibility wasn’t too far from the truth.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  SIXTEEN

  Zach’s gaze remained trained on the line of cars in front of them.

  Gabby was happy to be in traffic. In fact, she’d be happy if they didn’t move at all for a good long while.

  The closer they crept toward the border crossing, the tighter her chest felt. It was as if her ribs were slowly closing in on her organs. She couldn’t draw in enough breath. Even her heart felt like it labored just to beat.

  “Breathe,” Zach said softly.

  The deep sexy timbre of his voice would have had her breathless if she could get air into her lungs.

  She tried sucking in a breath and it came in a stuttered series of starts and stops.

  “Jesus, Gabby. Please don’t hyperventilate. I’ve got enough to worry about at the moment.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice broke on the final word.

  He finally glanced in her direction. “We’re gonna be okay.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded.

  He muttered a curse and reached out one hand, grasping her shoulder with his strong grip. She forced herself to fight the tears hovering just below the surface and look at him.

  “Just hang on a little bit longer. Can you do that for me?” he asked.

  Why now, of all times, did he have to be sweet?

  How many nights had she dreamed of this man’s hands on her as he spoke soft words of encouragement to her? And now it was happening but only because she was probably going to end up in a Tijuana jail for drug smuggling—after they confiscated her tile and insured she never got paid for her job.

  “I’ll try,” she whispered.

  “That’s my girl.”

  His girl. She swallowed hard. Maybe, just maybe, if they made it through this night—

  Then what? What was she hoping for?

  She knew what she wanted, and always had, and that was Zach’s lips on hers. His hands all over her body.

  She tried and failed to yank her mind off the image of him in bed, naked, braced over her as she spread her legs for him.

  Since that little fantasy becoming reality was not going to happen, she’d settle for them just having a good relationship. One where she could be at Amanda’s house and Zach wouldn’t glare at her.

  Him picking up his cell and punching in a text brought her out of her own head and back to the horror of her reality. “Who are you texting?”

  “Alexander. Telling him and Branson we’re about to cross the border.” He glanced in her direction. “And telling them which lane we’re in. Figure it can’t hurt to be specific.”

  Oh God. The border guard was going to drag her out of the car and lock her up forever.

  She glanced behind her at the twenty cardboard boxes they had no hope of hiding, even in the dark of night, because the border crossing was lit up like the Vegas strip.

  They were going to be strip searched and then thrown in a Tijuana jail for sure.


  “Here we go.” His voice didn’t relay any of her panic.

  She whipped her gaze to look forward and saw there was only one car in front of them now, and it was moving forward to allow them to pull into its place in front of the guard.

  It was their turn.

  “Oh my God.” She felt lightheaded and reached for the armrest.

  “Relax and give me your ID.” His slow measured words were too calm.

  Why wasn’t he worried? The man wasn’t human.

  “My ID. My ID. Oh my God. Where did I put it?”

  “You stuck it in the visor along with the invoice. Remember?”

  “Yes. Phew.” She reached for the visor and yanked it down, sending everything flying.

  In the dark of the car, she started to panic as she felt around on the floor by her feet.

  She grabbed the invoice easily since it was so large and shoved it under her butt on the seat where it would stay put. Then she went back in, looking for her license.

  Meanwhile, Zach had rolled down the window and already handed his ID to the guard. “She’s just looking for hers.”

  His words sent a renewed sense of panic through her and she leaned forward farther, nearly choking herself with the seatbelt still buckled.

  She felt blindly by her feet, cursing the dark.

  Finally her hand struck on the smooth small rectangle of her license. She grabbed it, popped upright, and thrust it toward Zach. “Here”

  “Here you go.” He smiled at the guard. The guard ducked down and peered at her, comparing the photo on the ID.

  The guard handed both pieces of identification back to Zach and nodded. “Have a good night.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t you need the invoice—”

  “Shh,” Zach hissed as he hit the gas while closing the window. “Don’t offer up what they didn’t ask for.”

  “But they didn’t ask us for anything other than ID. Or look in the car.” She watched behind them in the mirror, half expecting to see flashing lights and hear sirens because they’d realized their mistake.

  “You’re going to complain we got through too easily?” He shook his head. “Branson said he’d arranged for us to get across the border without any trouble. I’m just glad he’s a man of his word.”

  “Me too.” She blew out a breath and asked, “So that’s it?”

  “No. That’s definitely not it. This is far from over. Now we get to be bait.”

  She’d been so paralyzed with fear over crossing the border, she’d kind of forgotten about that other part.

  At least she’d pushed it out of her mind. Self preservation.

  There was only so much trauma her psyche could handle at once. Tonight she’d reached the limit . . . more than once. And she’d dragged Zach into it with her.

  She glanced at him as he drove. “You don’t have to stay with me. I know I asked you to, but you can go. I’ll be fine.”

  He turned and frowned. “Stop. I’m in this to the end.”

  Her heart warmed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How far to your friend’s house?” she asked.

  “Not far.”

  By the time Zach had them speeding North on Interstate 5, she’d circled around the same problem so much her head was spinning.

  Now that they were back on US soil, she could afford to think about her other problems—namely, saving her job.

  “I can’t let them take this tile,” she said as the knowledge of exactly how screwed she would be on the shop job without it hit her. The tile was the cornerstone of the whole design plan.

  One hand draped casually on the steering wheel, he glanced at her. “We don’t have much choice.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “Why can’t we just hide somewhere out of sight and empty the tile out of all those boxes? Just the tile, not the drugs, of course. Then we put the empty boxes back in the car with the drugs still inside for the drug dealers to come steal back.”

  “They’re gonna notice—” The ringing of his cell interrupted Zach. Drawing in a breath, he swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

  She wished he’d put it on speakerphone. He didn’t, so she leaned closer and tried to hear.

  Zach listened to whoever was on the call. Finally, he said, “Bring the truck to Compass’s place . . . and Hawk, you got any extra cardboard boxes from your move?”

  It must be the friend who’d gone to retrieve Zach’s truck. She’d been so worried about herself, she’d almost forgotten he’d abandoned his vehicle along the side of the road in Mexico, all to help her.

  But wait—what was that he’d said about cardboard boxes?

  “Good. Bring those too. I’ll see you there.” Zach disconnected the call.

  She waited, heart pounding, but he didn’t explain as he slowed and steered off the exit. She read the passing signs for Coronado as they headed for what she could only assume was his buddy’s abandoned apartment.

  Maybe if the rent was cheap enough she could move in there since she was still homeless. But it would have to be really cheap since the flood of new jobs she’d been counting on hadn’t happened yet.

  Finally, Zach slowed the vehicle and swung into a driveway. His truck was already parked at the curb, along with another black pick-up with two guys leaning against it.

  Zach threw her car in park and said, “Wait here while I open the garage door.”

  He reached to open his door when she grabbed for his forearm. “Wait. What are we doing?”

  Glancing back at her, he said, “Saving your damn tile.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “You sure you guys are okay with dropping this stuff off?” Zach asked, slamming the tailgate on Hawk’s four-wheel-drive king cab.

  “Yeah, no problem. And given this unique set of circumstances, better us than you two,” Hawk said, tipping his head toward Gabby, who looked reluctant to part with the precious tile stashed in the moving boxes in the bed of Hawk’s pick-up.

  Zach had to agree with Hawk. He was at a bit of a disadvantage in this situation. He had no weapon and he had Gabby.

  Meanwhile, Hawk was armed and had another SEAL with him. Hawk had grabbed Lopez, the lucky, or rather unlucky guy, from McP’s to help after Zach’s SOS call from across the border.

  “You have the code to get into the back door of the shop?” Gabby asked.

  “Yes, Gabby.” Hawk smiled indulgently.

  She eyed the boxes then looked up at the tall man and cringed. “Please drive slow so it doesn’t break.”

  “I promise,” Hawk made the shape of an X over his heart while the SEAL Zach knew by name but not well stood back and looked amused.

  “You can just put it right inside the back door—”

  “Gabby,” Zach interrupted. “The tile will be fine. They’ve got to get going.”

  It was almost midnight and he was well aware they were on a ticking clock. It was only a matter of time before the owners of the drugs still inside the cardboard boxes in Gabby’s trunk would arrive.

  He’d grabbed her arm to steer her away when she planted her feet in the ground and said to Hawk, “Thank you so much for all your help tonight.”

  “Anytime.” Lopez smiled, looking a bit too flirty and interested in Gabby for Zach’s taste.

  Hawk grinned. “It’s what we do. We help each other.”

  Ready to be out of there, Zach tipped his chin towards the two men. “Yeah, thanks, both of you. And Hawk, call me before you leave town.”

  “Oh, I’ll be calling you in the morning. You know, for a sit rep.” With a grin, Hawk turned toward his truck.

  Zach knew the kind of report Hawk wanted in the morning had more to do with the night he was about to spend in Gabby’s company, and less to do with drug runners.

  Not that there was all that much night left. But what there was left, he intended to spend in his own damn bed. Not on the bare mattress in Compass’s rental, whether Silas and the DH
S liked it or not.

  While Gabby had spent the drive back worrying about tile, Zach had done a bit of thinking himself.

  Whoever had put those drugs in Gabby’s boxes weren’t after her tile. They’d be coming to retrieve their stash, which they’d discovered was hidden beneath the false cardboard bottom of every single one of her tile boxes. All twenty of them.

  So why shouldn’t she save her tile? And why should they stay as human bait?

  If there was a tracker, it would be in the boxes still in the car, or on the car itself. They’d come and find the car, and the boxes, and their drugs, but they weren’t going to find Gabby.

  He’d leave her car there but he was taking her in his truck back to his place. And Zach didn’t give a shit if that wasn’t what DHS had told them to do.

  Compass always complained about his landlord and his crap apartment, but the one good thing it had was a big garage. That feature had come in particularly useful tonight.

  It had taken some maneuvering but they’d managed to empty the tile out of Gabby’s car while out of sight inside the garage. They’d pulled her car out and drove Hawk’s truck in, where they loaded the tile into the moving boxes in the back—all behind the privacy of the closed door.

  Now, Zach heaved up the big garage door so Hawk could drive out.

  When Hawk and Lopez and the prized tile was gone, he pulled Gabby’s car back in and left the door open so the bad guys had no trouble locating their booty. The point was to make it easy for the them to get in and take the stash so the good guys could catch them.

  It was a good plan. At least he liked it. Zane and Silas might have another opinion.

  Was the DHS team already there set up in the neighbors’ houses or maybe in a parked car somewhere nearby?

  “Come on. Time to go.” He handed Gabby up into the passenger seat of his truck—the truck he was most grateful to see again and in perfect condition after leaving it along the side of the road in Mexico.

  He drove away half expecting to get a phone call from Silas reprimanding him for leaving. But he didn’t.