by Cat Johnson
Jon pulled his own mask down. “You can have all three if you want. We’re just here to back you up.”
That was fine with Rocky, as long as he was the one to put the fear of God into that bastard who’d hurt Izzy.
Jon gave the signal and the team moved in, stacking up three deep on each side of the room’s doorway as Rocky had the pleasure of breaking down the cheap door.
It seemed like overkill as the team moved in on the three shocked men. In white undershirts, with their shoes and gun belts off, they’d obviously settled in for the night.
Too bad for them.
Rocky moved in on the man he recognized as Tito Perez from his mug shots. As the team subdued the two others with little effort, Rocky delivered a single punch to Tito’s face.
He heard the crunch as bones cracked and blood flew.
Tito cradled his nose in both hands, muffling his voice as he delivered a string of words Rocky knew enough Spanish to recognize as curses.
Finally, Tito said through what had to be a mouthful of blood, “What the fuck? Who are you?”
This was the part where Rocky had to employ his acting skills. He couldn’t say what he really wanted to—that if Tito didn’t leave Izzy alone Rocky would have no problem taking him out completely. But this area having its share of drug and gang problems gave him a good ruse to get Tito out of town.
“My boss says you’ve overstayed your welcome, Perez. This is his territory. You and your friends need to leave. Tonight.”
Tito frowned as the blood pouring from his broken nose soaked the front of his formerly white T-shirt. “Who’s your boss?”
“If you don’t know that, then you’re stupider than you look.”
“I’m here to get my girl back.” Tito’s words stole Rocky’s control.
Rocky channeled the rage. He had this guy right where he wanted him. Bleeding and broken, looking scared at the business end of a semi-automatic with Rocky’s finger on the trigger.
Remembering he was in charge here, Rocky gathered his composure and snorted out a laugh. It wasn’t hard. Tito really was laughable as he cowered on the bed making excuses.
“You keep making pussy a priority instead of business it’s no wonder you’re still a two-bit thug. Maybe my boss should do you a favor and take over your territory in Miami. Huh, Perez?”
Rocky heard Jon chuckle behind him.
Maybe the performance was a little over the top, but Tito needed a wake-up call. If this didn’t hit so close to home and his wife’s fear of this man wasn’t a constant presence on his mind, Rocky might have really enjoyed this little encounter.
Tito shot a quick glance at his two men, who hadn’t said a word. Not surprising. Two of Jon’s team had them each in a headlock while the others covered the room with their weapons.
“Okay.” Tito nodded, wiping at the blood under his nose. “We’ll leave tonight.”
Rocky nodded. “See that you do.”
Another surge of victory-fueled adrenaline hit Rocky hard as he backed toward the doorway.
“Take their weapons,” Jon ordered, taking control of the room now that Rocky was visually sweeping the motel’s lot to make sure their exfil was clear.
As per their training, the entire thing took barely five minutes.
With two men left behind in a vehicle parked off on the edge of the lot to make sure Tito did indeed do as he’d promised and left town, Rocky sat in the passenger seat of the SUV as Jon drove him and the rest of the team away from the scene.
“You did good.” Jon shot him a grin.
“Thanks.” He’d rather be shooting bullets than shooting his mouth off but it had all worked out.
A call came through the cell phone connected to Jon’s dashboard Bluetooth. He hit the button on the steering wheel to answer the call. “Rudnick.”
“Perez and his men just got into their car.”
“Good. Follow them to the state line and check in with me if anything changes.”
“Got it, boss.”
Jon hit the button to disconnect and shot Rocky another glance. “That didn’t take them long. Looks like we’re good.”
“Yeah. Thanks for everything.” Rocky turned to look at the three guys crammed in the back seat. “All of you.”
Jon grinned. “You’re welcome. It was good training for everyone.”
Speaking of training . . . Rocky remembered his lie to Isabel. He pulled his cell out of a pocket in his tactical vest and glanced at the readout.
Jon caught the move and smiled. “Go ahead. Call her and tell her you’re on your way home. I think we’re done for tonight.”
Rocky blew out a shaky breath, fighting the adrenaline that still gripped him. He hit redial and pressed the phone to his ear.
When Isabel answered, he said, “Hey, baby. I’m coming home.”
If you enjoyed this story please consider leaving a review and don’t miss the rest of the Hot SEALs!
Jon and Ali are finally tying the knot…or are they? Find out in Romanced by a SEAL, next up in the Hot SEALs series. Keep flipping to read the preview and remember to sign up at catjohnson.net/news for new release alerts. And in case you missed it, read how Jon met and fell in love with Ali in Night with a SEAL.
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Hot SEALs Series
Night with a SEAL
Saved by a SEAL
SEALed at Midnight
Kissed by a SEAL
Protected by a SEAL
Loved by a SEAL
Tempted by a SEAL
Wed to a SEAL
Romanced by a SEAL
More Hot SEALs coming soon in print, eBook and audiobook!
Romanced by a SEAL
As a SEAL, Jon Rudnick dodged copper and lead without flinching, but just the thought of one tiny gold band around his ring finger sends him into a cold sweat. Love is one thing, but marriage is another. He’s not sure he’s ready for that just yet . . . until a near miss serves as a wake-up call he can’t ignore.
Now he’s ready, but his girlfriend Ali has gone from rushing him toward the altar, to running in the opposite direction at full speed. Hell if Jon can figure out why, but he knows one thing. All’s fair in love and war and he’s not going to rest until he makes Ali his again. This time for good.
CHAPTER 1 EXCERPT
Dusk had already fallen when Jon parked his truck in the lot.
The early spring air was overly warm for this time of year, but having been to almost every hellhole on the planet, he’d take a balmy evening in Virginia any day.
He pushed through the scarred wooden door, exchanging the evening shadows outside for the perpetually dim interior of the dive bar.
It was a good time and a good place for the meet, though it had taken a bit of fancy talking on his part to get away from Ali just before dinner. But as things came to a head, this meet with his contact couldn’t wait.
When the man had sent the signal to set up the rendezvous, Jon had sucked it up and lied to his now live-in girlfriend.
What the hell else could he do?
He hadn’t known what he’d been about to get involved in when he and Ali had discussed her moving in with him a couple of months ago.
Hindsight alway was twenty-twenty.
So he’d made a bullshit excuse about why he had to leave the house on a night she’d come home from work and cooked him a homemade meal . . . and he’d seen the resulting look in her eyes. Part anger. Part disappointment. Then she’d delivered the blow. A single word in a tone so dismissive it was like a dull knife carving a hole in his gut.
“Fine.”
What was it about that word—fine—that got to him?
That single measured syllable seemed so much worse than if she’d yelled or cussed at him.
Hell, anything would have been better, because it was clear from the glare and her body language that things were not fine at all.
Spotting his contact in the back, half hi
dden in a dark corner lit only by a dusty neon beer sign, Jon made his way over.
The man watched him walk, not that anyone else there noticed or cared. That’s why they’d set this place for the meet. It always had a mix of drunks who couldn’t care less what went on around them.
It was definitely not a place Jon would have come to for fun . . . or unarmed.
“Rudnick.” The man barely raised his eyes before he lifted his beer bottle and downed a swallow.
“Hassan.” Jon nodded as he scanned past the few patrons in the establishment. “There a waitress?” he asked.
Hassan snorted out a laugh. “What do you think?”
“Yeah. I figured. Another one?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Hassan tipped his head as Jon turned toward the bar.
No surprise his contact was downing the beer. No one would want to be in this place sober, that’s for sure.
In fact, Jon might have to leave his shoes outside the door of the condo when he got home. The way each step stuck to the floor, God only knew what was on it.
“How’s it going?” The bartender looked like he doubled as a bouncer, judging by the thickness of his neck and the scar slicing his upper lip.
“Good. Two longnecks, please.”
“You got it.” The bartender opened the bottles and planted them on the dinged bar top.
Jon threw a bill on the counter and grabbed the two bottles. “Thanks. Keep the change.”
The man nodded his thanks and Jon headed back to the corner where they’d have privacy for their business. More than that, they’d avoid a conversation with the lone drunk seated on a barstool and talking back to the television hanging above the bar.
In Jon’s experience, there were good dive bars and bad ones. Arnold’s Tiki Bar, hidden away down the end of an alley in Waikiki, with its three dollar Longboards and five dollar Mai Tais was a good dive bar.
This shit hole—not so much. There was good reason he’d never been here and why he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing anyone he knew.
That served him well for their purposes tonight.
He set the bottles down with a plunk and pulled out a chair, eyeing it to make sure there was nothing disgusting on the seat that he could carry home with him on his pants.
No one knew he was here tonight. No one knew what he was involved in. Not his business partner Zane, not his friends, and not his girlfriend Ali—and it needed to stay that way.
Get Romanced by a SEAL
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ABOUT CAT JOHNSON
A top 10 New York Times & seven time USA Today bestselling author, Cat Johnson writes contemporary romance featuring *crane sexy alpha heroes, men in uniform and cowboys in both full length and shorter works.
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WED TO A SEAL
Cat Johnson
Copyright © 2016 by CAT JOHNSON
All Rights Reserved
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