The Protective SEAL

by Knight, Katie

  Twenty-Seven

  Jack sat at the kitchen table in the safe house, staring at the security camera feeds on the laptop screen in front of him. It was now nearly 5 p.m. and he and Zeke and the rest of Zeke’s team had spent the day planning how to take down the attackers they were expecting.

  It was only a matter of time now.

  Sam was due to testify in the morning. Now or never.

  He tapped his fingertips on the wooden tabletop to expel a bit of the nervous energy zinging around inside him. Sam’s father and whoever else was working for him had been tracking her for days. Even if they no longer had their tracker in place, it was certain that they knew she was here. The attack would happen tonight. The only question was when.

  With Jack’s help, they’d devised a plan. They’d rigged the house with extra cameras and flood lights on the exterior and made the interior as fortress-like as possible, with the bedroom and bathroom windows boarded up. He and Zeke would cover the inside of the house. Agents from Zeke’s team were posted outside too, hidden, watching the streets and neighboring homes for signs of an impending attack.

  The familiar buzz of adrenaline he always felt right before a big mission swelled to near unbearable levels inside Jack. Despite having participated in numerous important black ops missions all over the world, toppling regimes and taking out enemies of the state, none of them had ever felt as important as the one he was involved in tonight.

  Sam and Glory’s lives were on the line. They meant more to him than anything else in this world.

  He’d protect them. No matter what.

  Any other option was unthinkable.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack pictured Sam as she’d looked when he’d first arrived here, all wide-eyed wonder and wary hope. That same hope had fizzed inside him, like champagne bubbles. Soon, they could have a real talk about the real possibility of a future between them. If it took giving up his life to enter witness protection with them, that was what he’d do. Just as soon as he took care of business.

  “Incomings spotted. Looks like four guys,” one of the exterior marshal’s voices crackled through the Bluetooth device nestled in Jack’s ear, snapping him back to the present. “Mission a go?”

  Jack stood and closed the laptop, then pulled out his Glock from the holster at his waist and checked the magazine before slapping it back into place. He’d expected a larger attack from such a notorious crime boss, but maybe Engel’s popularity was waning. Or maybe this wasn’t the end of it. He glanced over at Zeke, who was covering the front windows in the living room. They’d contacted the local police and evacuated the homes surrounding the safe house to avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Given the local mob’s penchant for violence, things were bound to get messy. The fewer people at risk during the attack, the better.

  He strode out of the kitchen and glanced down the hall to the bedroom door at the end. If he’d had his way, Sam and Glory would’ve been evacuated too, but there was no way to keep them safe without him and Zeke, since he trusted no one outside his circle here. They’d done the next best thing and barricaded the two of them inside the bedroom, windows boarded and with enough food, water, and weapons to survive a nuclear winter, if necessary. Engel’s men would have to get through the marshals outside, then Zeke and him, then Sam herself. And there was no fiercer foe on earth than a mother protecting her child. He’d bet good money Sam would happily imitate her mobster father and take out every last man to save Glory.

  Right. Time to get into position. After a nod to Zeke, who had his weapon drawn as well and was peering through the curtains at the street beyond, Jack took up position on the other side of the room from his friend and hit the lights. He slid his night vision goggles into place while Zach did the same.

  Jack pressed his body into the corner between the window and the adjoining wall and whispered, “Mission is a go. It’s showtime.”

  Things went down pretty fast after that. Jack couldn’t say which was louder, the gunfire that erupted outside or the words barked through his Bluetooth earpiece from the marshals in the line of fire.

  He twisted just in time as the window beside him shattered. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder and lodged in the wall across the living room, sending chunks of drywall flying. On its heels came the report of a second shot and more debris exploding through the air in the living room as more windows were destroyed. Through the shadows, Jack spotted Zeke pressed to the wall beside the other window, a streak of red blooming on the white shirt over his friend’s right shoulder.

  “Zeke, buddy!” Jack called over the chaos. “You okay, man?”

  “Yeah,” Zeke called back, cursing. “Just a flesh wound.”

  “Right.” Jack did some cursing of his own as he saw Zeke hunch over, clasping his injured arm. His first instinct was to rush over to provide first aid to his friend, but there wasn’t time. Jack ducked as more gunfire rained inside, a bullet narrowly missing his head. Through the gauzy curtains billowing inside from the breeze, he saw the outlines of several black-clad henchmen approaching the house. Jack yelled over to Zeke, who’d straightened and held his weapon ready once more, “Shoot to kill!”

  Zeke gave a curt nod as the front door slammed open and two large men busted inside. Jack fired at the intruders. His shot jolted one henchman’s upper body, sending the guy tumbling to the floor. Rushing forward to make sure his target was out for good, Jack knelt on top of the guy, a knee to the thug’s back and a forearm across his shoulder blades, but not before the man managed to get his left arm free and with it, his gun. Despite the awkward grip, the henchman moved to lift his arm and Jack pressed his elbow into the dude’s wounded shoulder, causing the raised shot to go wide and useless.

  Across the room, Zeke landed a hard blow to the side of his attacker’s head and the second thug collapsed to the ground, out cold. Outside, the rest of their team seemed to have the situation under control as the gunfire died away.

  “Get this guy’s weapon,” Jack yelled to Zeke.

  His friend walked over and slammed a booted foot down on the thug’s forearm, knocking the weapon loose from his hand. He kicked it out of reach then radioed in to the rest of the team before looking down at Jack. “Clear.”

  Jack levered up, grabbing the henchman’s injured arm and yanking it behind him. The guy struggled and howled in pain, but Jack didn’t relent. The thought of this asshole harming Sam or Glory was untenable. Jack slammed the guy up against the wall while Zeke hit the lights. He snarled in the guy’s face, “How could you work for that monster? You were really willing to take out an unarmed woman and a tiny baby?”

  “I’m not saying a word. I want an attorney,” the henchman gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “I’ve got your attorney right here, asshole,” Jack said, closing a hand around the guy’s windpipe and squeezing slightly. “Is this it? Does Stefan plan another attack on his daughter?”

  The thug’s lips remained sealed even as Jack pressed harder against the guy’s bullet wound near his left pec. The wet stain on the larger man’s black T-shirt shirt spread wider and the agent’s face turned ghostly pale. The coppery smell of blood filled the air.

  Still no answer.

  Jack pressed harder.

  The guy finally gasped. “Fine. No. This was it. I was supposed to take care of it. Had a whole team of guys set up, but then they deserted me. Said they’re striking out on their own, claiming territory.” The thug’s eyes grew increasing hazy as the effects of blood loss hit hard. “I failed Mr. Engel. I thought I could handle it, but…”

  “What about Sam? Is she safe?” He tightened his grip on the guy’s arm, eliciting a cry of pain. “I swear to God if anyone tries to come after her or the baby again, I will splatter their brains from here to kingdom come. Got it? She’s out of it. She was never in it to begin with. Understand me?”

  The henchman swallowed hard and gave a small nod.

  “What was that?” Jack hissed, getting nose to nose with th
e guy, teeth bared. “Say it!”

  “She’s safe,” the man said.

  Jack held the barrel of his gun to the thug’s temple. “Swear to me you’ll spread the word to the rest of your goons to back off. Swear it, or I’ll pull this trigger. You don’t want to get on my bad side. I’m an ex-SEAL and I’ve got contacts all over the world. You think Engel’s bad, you haven’t seen anything yet. Understand?”

  “I swear,” the guy said, eyes closed.

  With a curse, Jack pulled the guy off the wall and shoved him toward Zeke. “Get this filth out of here.”

  Through the open front door, the wail of sirens grew louder as local law enforcement arrived along with several ambulances. Jack hiked his chin at his buddy. “Have the cops arrest their asses and anyone else they find out there lurking. Lock ’em all up and throw away the key. I’m done with this. And have the EMTs take care of your shoulder wound while you’re at it, bro. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

  * * *

  One gunshot, then a second. Or was that an echo of the first? Windows shattering. Jack’s shouting. The sounds of a struggle, followed by more gunshots and a jumble of muffled grunts and indistinguishable voices. Then, silence followed by the wail of sirens.

  Sam clutched her daughter tighter to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d vowed to stay put, to stay locked in here and safe, but the thought of Jack lying out there, possibly hurt or worse, pulled at her. She was still struggling to decide what was best when there was a familiar, prearranged knock at the door.

  When she opened it to find Jack there, her knees went weak. Sam steadied herself with a hand against the wall. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  Maybe it was the fear. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was just that she needed this man more than she needed her next breath.

  Whatever it was, Sam threw herself into Jack’s arms and kissed him to within an inch of her life.

  They shared a short, sweet kiss before she pulled away to bury her face against his shoulder and hide her tears.

  “Is it over?” Sam asked, blinking away the sting in her eyes. She wasn’t crying out of sadness now, but out of relief. “This part anyway? I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to hide. I just want to be with you.”

  “I know, darling. I know. Me too.” He kissed her forehead and held her close, the steady drum of his heartbeat soothing her as nothing else could. “After tomorrow, we’ll leave all this behind, I promise. Just one more day.”

  “One more day,” she whispered against his chest. For him, for Glory, for herself, she’d be strong.

  Twenty-Eight

  Later that night, she and Jack were in a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago, known for its five-star service and its discretion, all courtesy of the US Marshals’ office. After getting Glory calmed down and fed, then bathed and put to bed, Sam had spent the past hour soaking in the oversized marble tub in the master bathroom of their presidential suite. At first, she’d balked at the idea of staying in the hotel, considering what had taken place earlier that night with the attack, but Zeke had insisted. Seemed it did pay to have friends in the right places. Through the doorway across from her, the California king bed called her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the swirling lukewarm bathwater just yet.

  The past few days had been hell. Honestly, the past year had been hell, with Glory being the only bright spot until Jack had reappeared in her life. Since then, Sam had begun to hope. Hope that maybe this connection she had with Jack could be more. Then reality had crashed back in tonight, reminding them of everything that was on the line and everything they stood to lose.

  Jack hadn’t said much too her since she’d kissed him in the safe house and she wondered now if she’d made a mistake, read his signal wrong. Perhaps he’d wanted to talk to her after all this to tell her that things between them were over. Done. Kaput.

  Ugh.

  She sank further beneath the waters of the churning whirlpool tub. This soak was long overdue—sleepless nights, the race from the farm, the cabin fire—all of it had worn Sam down. Still, even though her fingertips and toes were shriveled from the water, she wasn’t any closer to relaxed. She raised her arm out of the water to grab the washcloth laying nearby when the lights in the room went out.

  Sam squeaked and froze.

  “Easy, darling.”

  In the light of the full moon streaming through the skylights, Jack stood with his shoulder against the doorjamb, dressed in tattered jeans and a white T-shirt. A bottle of soda dangled from his fingers. Judging from his tousled hair, he’d been outside on the balcony awhile before wandering down to the master bath.

  Sam reached over and turned off the whirlpool jets then resumed her reclined position. Legs bent, knees barely breaking the water’s surface, she smiled. “Can I have a sip of your soda?”

  A hint of a smile appeared as he pushed off the door and ambled forward. Passing off the drink to her, he sat on the edge of the recessed tub, his back against the tile wall.

  Sam nearly choked on her overwhelming desire to run her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, or his tanned skin that stood in sharp contrast to the lighter marble. She settled for enjoying the fizzy rush of sugar from the soda, taking a healthy swallow from the bottle. Sweetness hit her tongue, warming her insides, calming her.

  Jack bounced one knee and tapped a matching rhythm on his knee with his thumb, as if he were nervous. Sam leaned forward and placed her hand over his, stilling its motion. His gaze shot to hers, a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in its depths, and tension rushed back in between them.

  “I’m glad Zeke’s going to be okay,” she said, for lack of anything better. Paramedics had patched up the marshal at the scene—the injury hadn’t been serious enough for him to need a hospital.

  Jack snorted, a humorless sound. “Yeah. Me too.”

  She took another swig of soda, then passed the bottle back.

  He turned it over in his hands. “For some reason, this isn’t doing the trick tonight.” Setting the bottle aside, he sighed. “It’s a lot. Losing the love of your life, only to get a second chance. Then, before you can wrap your head around the idea, that second chance is almost snatched away again.”

  Sam’s breath hitched as the full meaning of Jack’s words sank in. He loved her too.

  “I’m sorry this is so hard,” Jack whispered, his gaze holding hers a moment longer before he picked up the bottle and downed the rest of the soda in one long gulp. He stood and Sam feared he was going to leave. But he only crossed to the vanity instead. Bracing his hands on it, he straightened his arms and hung his head. “It is what it is.”

  Sam didn’t think twice, about her actions or the fact she was dripping wet and naked. Needing to comfort Jack, she stepped out of the tub and laid his hands on his back, yearning to soothe this brave, honest, wonderful man. “Jack. Sweetheart.”

  He was on her the next instant. Spinning, Jack slammed them against the wall at the end of the vanity, trapping Sam between smooth, cold marble and a hard, hot body. “I need you so badly.”

  “You’ve got me,” she said, ducking her head beneath Jack’s chin, inhaling his scent of soap and citrus and warm, clean male. She kissed his neck, tracing her tongue over his skin, returning some of the sensory overload that Jack had unleashed on her that night at the cabin.

  Jack shivered, his arms tensing where they were braced on either side of Sam’s head. Gliding her hands down his torso, Sam snuck them under his damp T-shirt, seeking the warm skin underneath. “I need...”

  His breath grew shallow. “What do you need, darling?”

  So many things. But right then, all she wanted was Jack on her, in her, connected as only they could be. Sam flattened a hand over Jack’s chest. His pulse pounded in time with hers. “You. I need you. Only you.”

  He tangled his fingers in Sam’s wet hair and forced her to meet his heated gaze. “You still have to testify. And then you’re back in w
itness protection with a new identity. Nothing’s guaranteed.”

  “I know. I’m not looking for guarantees.” Sam lowered a hand between them, palming Jack’s erection through his jeans. “I just need you.”

  Jack kissed her then, and Sam was pulled under, just like she was every time they were together. Moaning, she opened her mouth and Jack’s tongue darted inside, tangling with hers. She tasted soda and searing desire.

  Her legs went weak at the onslaught of sensation and Jack caught her, sliding his hands over her bare behind, hauling her up against his straining erection. His growl reverberated against her mouth and echoed off the marble walls, sending all the heat flaring inside Sam straight to her core.

  Just like in those romantic movies she loved, Jack picked her up and laid her on the floor in the blink of an eye. The fluffy rug beneath them cushioned her landing. Still, Sam had to chuckle. “There’s a perfectly good bed right out there.” She tilted her head toward the bedroom, even as she worked to undo Jack’s fly.

  Straddling her hips, Jack tugged off his T-shirt. Unable to resist, Sam ran her hands up his washboard abs and firm pecs, the smattering of hair there tickling her palms.

  Jack grinned and pinned her back to the floor with his hands and mouth. “And there’s a perfectly good rug right here.”

  Sam giggled and Jack ground his hips against her, the rough denim wreaking havoc on her already frayed control. Craving more, she ran her hands down Jack’s back and inside the waistband of his boxers. Then slipped her fingers inside and brought them forward to grasp his erection. She was so entranced by the feel of his hot, velvet hardness in her hand, by the taste of his lips, by the sensual motion of his hips, that she could have stayed there all night.

  He had other ideas. Jack pulled free and Sam’s heart crashed against her ribs at the level of hunger in his eyes. The same hunger raging inside her.

  She started to get up. “Bed now?”