SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood #3)

by Hamilton, Sharon

  Not that Carlos was watching. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Gina, and it made her skin crawl.

  Sam leaned into the side of her head, carefully. “You’ve drawn the right kind of attention, G-spot.”

  Gina’s loathing for the situation flared into anger. “Keep your fuckin’ distance or I’ll have him call the cops.” She shot a glance to Devon as if to say, ‘What were you thinking?’

  The reference to calling the cops was supposed to be the safe signal, but only used in a blown operation. The group got quiet. The bartender spoke up.

  “You boys want something, or are you just gonna ogle the customers for free?”

  “Yeah, I’m not on stage yet,” Mia turned around, leaning back, to make the most of her lush breasts temptingly exposed by a mostly-unbuttoned black satin blouse. The boys responded appropriately, giving Mia the reaction she wanted. Sam whistled as he brushed past Gina, making sure that they had a thigh-on-thigh experience on his way to snaking an arm around Mia’s waist.

  He thinks he owns me. She had fallen really hard for him, and fast. That was the part that hurt the most. She’d thrown caution to the wind. No questions, just a couple of nibbling kisses, and wham, she couldn’t wait to get naked with him. And because he was a cop, she’d thought she could trust him.

  Mia was cooing and enjoying the attention of four really big leather-clad guys. Gina noticed the long looks she gave the corner, like giving the gang the finger. Mia was going to be a big problem when she found out the guys she was getting cozy with were cops.

  Little Shannon was really working her buttock muscles, shaking them faster than Gina thought was humanly possible. The dancer backed up closer to the face of one of the front row crowd and Gina felt herself shudder again. The gentleman had his forefinger rubbing up and down Shannon’s rear, as he inserted dollar bills in the lacy string that held her panties together. When the supply of bills dried up, she moved on to the next customer, revealing a little more each time, letting the customers get a little closer, touch a little more inappropriately.

  Gina wondered what it would feel like to do that onstage for strange men. Could she do it if it was required? For the good of the mission? She decided the answer was a definite no. What difference would it make if you debased yourself for a paycheck from the Department or from a bar?

  It was still wrong.

  Chapter 2

  Navy SEAL Armando Guzman was surprised his sister, Mia, was not answering her phone. That meant she’d lied to him again. Her ‘evening at home with a girlfriend’ meant a trip to a local bar hanging out with the wrong crowd.

  So much for the surprise dinner. He liked to be impromptu with Mia, despite the fact that she accused him of spying on her. Well, yes…that was partially true.

  Fredo was his constant companion these days, ever since Fredo’s best friend, SO Calvin Cooper, had gotten himself involved and married to a cute little thing from San Diego. Libby had encouraged Cooper to find larger digs, rather than cramming them both into the Babemobile Coop had lived in down by the beach for the past three years. So they were currently house-hunting with the help of his team leader’s wife, Christy Lansdowne, who was the Realtor for all the Team guys these days.

  Armando also knew Fredo liked to hang out with him because the Mexican SEAL had the hots for his sister. At first, this had seemed like a bad idea, but Mia’s terminal case of bad judgment kept escalating. Even Armando didn’t think she could go wrong with any one of his Team buddies, but he’d never let on he felt this way. It was sport, needling Fredo to death at every opportunity, since Mia would have nothing to do with him. And the more she rejected him, the harder Fredo tried.

  Gotta hand it to him. He’s persistent. Fredo’s short stature and powerful arms made him the best on the Team in wrestling. In fact, Armando couldn’t remember a match the man had ever lost. The Mexican SEAL’s prominent forehead, ruddy complexion and infamous unibrow did not, however, make him a favorite of the ladies.

  “That’s just not something a man should ever do, have his eyebrows tweezed,” he’d told Armando that evening when they’d discussed his lack of love life. Although not as good-looking as some of his buds, Fredo had a heart the size of the ocean they had to swim in on a daily basis. Armando had never had a problem attracting women. Girls lined up for him ever since he was in junior high.

  The pair drove to Mia’s house to confirm what Armando feared. Fredo dove from Armando’s Hummer, ran to the garage at the end of a concrete driveway, and quickly returned. “Her car’s not in the garage, Armani.”

  “Let’s take the groceries in so they don’t get warm,” Armando said. They’d stopped by the store they called Whole Wallet to get some organic steaks and salad fixings to make a meal he knew she wouldn’t prepare for herself. Armando halfway hoped Mia had invited her cute friend Gina over. They’d have some wine, sit out on the patio, and watch the stars come out on this beautiful spring evening in San Diego.

  “Where’s the kid?”

  “I’m guessing my mom’s.”

  Armando had bought the house for Mia recently. He’d also helped her fix up the two-bedroom stucco bungalow into a sweet little home for her and her baby. Mama Guzman had planted flowers that were just now beginning to bloom. They wouldn’t match the psychedelic colors covering Mama Guzman’s yard, but, given time, Mia’s house would have a jungle in front of it, or their mother would die trying.

  Buying the house for Mia had given Armando the right to a key, or so he’d told his Team. He promised never to barge in on her when she was entertaining, but tonight was different. She’d gone out of her way to say she wasn’t entertaining a man, and Armando thought some face time with his tempestuous sister was warranted.

  As soon as they stepped into the living room, Armando smelled pot. “Shit.”

  “Whoa. Can’t believe it.” Fredo said, shaking his head. “That’s a fuckin’ shame.”

  “What kind of a mother smokes around her son?” Armando swore.

  “Armani, that girl’s got some demons. Wish she’d choose me. I’d exorcise those spirits, love them right outta her.”

  Fredo got a sock to the arm that made the bottom of his bag drop out and the salad mix fall to the floor. Luckily the greens remained encased their plastic bags.

  “I know you have the best of intentions, but she’s my sister, Fredo.” Armando was more worried for his sister’s state of mind than he liked to show.

  “I feel you,” Fredo began. “But while I’m waiting here, holding my dick and trying to be all proper, she’s doing the down and dirty with half the scum of San Diego. And the only reason she’s not with Caesar is that he took that little detour to San Quentin.”

  Armando pushed Fredo onto the couch. “That’s enough. Shut the fuck up or I’ll leave you right here.” It didn’t make sense she’d want to go back to that dickwad.

  Some day you’re gonna tell me, sis. Who hurt you? If he could just find out what the problem was, Armando was sure he could cure her of—whatever. It was unacceptable that any sister of his would be throwing her life away like this.

  “I’ll happily stay here, Armani. You go chase around and look for her. She’ll come home eventually.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “So ‘splain this to me. You save her life and the life of her baby. You buy her a fuckin’ great house in a good area, you buy her furniture, and you help your mama, too. And she disses you like this? I’m telling you, those demons is not only gettin’ bigger, they’re having babies. What’s next?”

  “What’s next is I’m gonna find her, bring her home, and cook her a fuckin’ steak. And you’re gonna be a perfect gentleman, hear?”

  “Yessir. I get you.”

  After storing the perishables, Armando and Fredo stopped by Fredo’s apartment to pick up his Parks Department four-door beater truck. No sense exposing Armando’s black Hummer to the neighborhood where they’d probably find Mia.

  Armando slid onto the torn leather bench sea
t and examined the contents of the cab behind him. The floor was nearly ankle-high with fast food wrappers and old milkshake and soda containers.

  “Some super sleuth you’d make,” Armando said, holding his nose. “All anyone would have to do is sort through all your wrappers and receipts. They could re-create your whereabouts 24/7.”

  Fredo rolled his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “Just because you got an obsessive compulsive disorder for specks of dirt, don’t mean you have to insult a normal male with normal eating habits.” Fredo didn’t look back at him.

  “That’s not normal,” Armando said with a thumb pointing over his shoulder.

  They rounded a corner and the noise of displaced paper cups, balled-up bags and wrappers was unmistakable.

  Fredo put on the brakes and nearly was rear-ended. “You wanna walk? You’re usin’ my petrol for your own devious little plan. I’m just along to make sure you don’t get your ass busted.”

  Armando started to open the door and Fredo grabbed his shoulder. “Get the fuck back in the truck, Armani. I’m just messin’ with you.”

  “Okay, then shut the fuck up.” They rode in silence for a few minutes. Armando was twirling the comment Fredo had made over and over in his brain. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Obsessive compulsive?” he demanded.

  “No shit, Sherlock. Like you have to put plastic down on the couch yesterday before I could sit down.”

  “That’s because you were working out before you came over. You were sweaty, man.”

  “Yea, well, don’t you get sweaty balling all those coeds on your couch? You think I mind if I sit my ass down on some teenage cum?”

  “They’re not teenagers. You know that.”

  Fredo humphed. The silence continued. Then Fredo spoke up. “I clean my truck on the first of every month, and always before deployment.”

  “That’s a very good thing. No telling what could grow in the back seat in six months unattended. Might have to have a HazMat clearance.”

  “That’s Coop’s problem, with all that Kambucha he drinks. I think it’s disgusting to drink fungus piss.”

  “Well, hell’s bells. We finally agree on something.” Armando smiled at his Mexican friend and found Fredo chuckling as well.

  They looked like a couple of guys looking to find some action as they cruised down across the tracks towards a run-down commercial district in one of the seedier parts of town. Fredo’s truck was barely still green, it was so thoroughly covered with rust and scrapes. But everyone on SEAL Team 3 knew underneath the front seat was a container welded to the frame that could hold enough firepower to start a war in a small country. Normally there would be duty bags with special demo equipment and ammunition tossed on the second seat behind them. Tonight they were traveling light. Anyone who tried to mess with the box underneath the seat would be met with an electric charge strong enough to send him to the hospital, courtesy of Fredo’s best friend, SO Calvin Cooper.

  Armando easily spotted Mia’s white Nissan glowing in the moonlight. He grimaced when he saw it was parked haphazardly, one wheel up on the curb. A variety of older cars and a few tricked-out, lowered ones with blackened windows dotted the nearly deserted alleyway. Fredo found a parking space nearby. A dark cat darted across the street and disappeared on the other side.

  “Bet you bought her that car too, huh?” Fredo said.

  Armando ignored him as he looked in the doorways of several clubs and saw women and an odd assortment of men lingering there. A string of Harleys that was way too nice for the neighborhood stood to attention right outside one particular bar. Armando thought if there was any kind of action at all, his sister would go for the bikers before the bangers.

  Fredo continued, “You ever think that, like, maybe Mia doesn’t want you going around interfering with her life? She’s had that conversation with you, I know.”

  “Did that ever stop you?”

  Fredo shook his head. “Not the same thing, Armani. I don’t go check up on whom she’s goin’ out with. But I would, if you gave me—”

  “That’s not going to happen, Fredo. Mia’s my responsibility.”

  “Except…what if you’re pushing her away? You can’t lead a horse to water.”

  “Depends on how fucking big the horse is.”

  Fredo laughed. Armando felt good having his Team buddy at his side, and giving him shit was part of the fun. They crossed the street and walked towards the entrance of Babes.

  Guttural saxophone music blared from the pink wash of light spilling out from the opened doorway of the bar. A big guy with more exposed tats than bare skin was there to collect their ten bucks.

  He saw the pink flash of a girl’s rear end on stage just before the stage lights went out. The house lights came on, but it didn’t help much. He eyed the skinny gang members congregated at the stage, noticing that several of them were weaving and glassy-eyed. At the counter, a bevy of beefy guys dressed in black were hovering around someone seated there. Armando had a sickening feeling that someone was his sister.

  Fredo stepped in front of him. “Don’t be stupid, Armani. I’m not into getting the shit kicked out of me tonight.”

  Armando noted that every single one of the guys behind Fredo outweighed him by more than forty pounds. They also were about a foot taller than Fredo. But Armando would take them on any day with one of his teammates on hand to back him, regardless of the size or weight difference.

  “Dude,” Fredo insisted. “No drama, okay? You don’t need some asshole taking pity on her, ‘kay?”

  Adrenaline did a double tap to Armando’s heart and he sucked in a deep breath. His hands made fists before he was conscious of it. He tensed his thigh and felt the knife strapped there. It was always like this in the war zone. Except he didn’t have the H&K slung over his shoulder.

  Relax, but be prepared for anything.

  Without saying a word, Armando parted the crowd and wasn’t surprised to see his sister sitting right in the middle. He was surprised to see her friend Gina next to her. The feeling must have been mutual, because Gina sat up straight, her eyes going wide for a second before she resumed that cocky attitude that matched her dress. Damn, but the lady was practically poured into that fuzzy red thing. Armando’s body liked the view, the scent of her perfume all but sending him into a trance.

  Down, boy.

  Mia scowled when she saw him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded. He could see her cheeks flush red. A really big guy had his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer.

  “I guess wanna ask the same about you,” Armando began, slowly scanning the faces of the males in front of him, especially the big guy. “Fredo and I stopped by the house and were going to cook up some steaks, since you said you were going to be home.”

  “We changed our minds—right, Gina?”

  “Damned straight,” Gina said between chomps of her bubble gum. “She need permission or something? I don’t see no dog collar.”

  Armando wanted to make her spit out that double wad of gum so he could grab the woman and lay a decent kiss on her bright red lips, but he quickly banished the thought when one of the bikers stepped between him and the girls. Armando watched the others to make sure they weren’t also getting aggressive.

  “These ladies are taken,” said the man in front of him. “Now why don’t you go get yourself some company elsewhere?”

  Mia was grinning behind him.

  “That’s my little sister,” Armando began. He hoped that’s all he would have to reveal.

  “I think we can handle this,” the larger one said as he stood up. Then he pushed aside his friend and stared directly into Armando’s eyes with a sneer. He suddenly broke out in a smile. “But you can try your chances with this one over here,” he nodded to Gina. “If you can stand the competition, that is.” He winked at Gina.

  Armando looked at the stained blue shirt and decided to take a chance. “How could I trust my little sister to a guy who slobbers all over himse
lf?” Armando pointed to several large rhubarb-colored stains on the guy’s shirt. “Or did you get fresh with one of your buds?”

  “You fuckin’ punk. I think you need to leave,” the giant said, taking the bait and stepping dangerously close to the two SEALs.

  Armando was quick to grab the guy’s collar and pull him so their faces nearly touched. “I’m not afraid of you, Gringo,” he said to the giant. Armando could faintly hear Fredo give a light moan of disbelief. He released the big guy with a shove. The moose looked stunned.

  “Shit, Armani. Wasn’t planning on getting bloody tonight,” Fredo muttered behind him.

  Armando shrugged off Fredo’s words, irritated he was being publicly reminded to stand down. But he knew it was the right thing to do. He just didn’t want to.

  Mia was on her feet, fire burning in her eyes. She tried to get in front of the leather-clad monster, but a beefy arm pushed her back behind him.

  “Hey, pick on me, why don’t you?” Armando added, “Or are you one of those guys that like to beat up on women?”

  The big guy was thinking about something. Armando could see he was barely reining in his anger.

  “Oh, stop it, you two,” Mia said just in time. “He does this all the time,” she said to her entourage.

  The big guy stepped back but was still blocking Armando’s access to his sister. The awkward seconds were broken when Mia added, “I can fuckin’ take care of myself, Armani,” she said from behind the man. This made the guy smile, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head. Armando saw something dark and damaged in there.

  “Like the little lady said,” the biker began, “she doesn’t need any help. We’re here to take good care of her.”

  Armando’s fists were itching to connect with the guy’s fleshy cheeks.

  “Just because they’re SEALs, they think they can do anything,” Mia muttered and started to get back up on the stool.