SEAL Defender (Brothers In Arms Book 1)

by Leslie North

  She froze, her mouth open, speechless.

  Not good on national TV, but damn.

  The guy behind the camera gestured wildly to her to keep talking. Geneva swallowed hard and did her best to pick up the topic of the piece again. “Well, Marcus, Tim and Kim Rigsdale are at the forefront of the Frank Sutton campaign for Congress and leaders of the controversial American Way Group, major donors to the Sutton campaign.” Other journalists from competing media outlets crowded and jostled around her, all of them vying for the best spot to film. “Their views are decidedly racist, misogynistic, and xenophobic. By coming here tonight, I hope to draw them out and ask them face to face about the recent deaths of two ex-Navy SEALs. With the help of several sources, who wish to remain anonymous at this time, I’ve uncovered evidence that the suicides of these men may not have been suicides at all.”

  She glanced over to the side of the house and saw Jace and Vann disappear around a set of construction barricades. While she broke the news of their suspicions on national TV, they were going in search of Mark. With luck, they’d find him and spring him before anyone was the wiser and they could all escape unnoticed during the post-press conference melee.

  Behind her, a murmur started through crowd and Geneva turned to see Kim Rigsdale emerge onto the front portico of the mansion. Flanked as she was by the tall white columns, she looked more like a wealthy southern socialite than the wife of some tech guru. As always, she was dressed to the nines, this time in a dark green designer dress and matching high heels, her makeup and hair done to perfection. She gave the gathered crowd a perfect, plastic smile. “My husband will be out shortly to address all of you. This visit is unexpected, but we always want to cooperate with our friends in the press.”

  The woman was a consummate liar. Geneva gave her that. She and her husband had to be shitting themselves right about now, considering they had a lawn full of uninvited, rabid reporters and a hostage somewhere in their house, but it seemed Kim Rigsdale had her Teflon public persona firmly in place.

  After she glanced over at the construction area and still saw no sign of the guys or Mark, Geneva decided to try and buy them some more time. She pushed to the front of the crowd with her cameraman and stuck her recorder right into Kim’s face.

  “Ms. Rigsdale,” Geneva asked. “We met the other day at the Sutton rally in Ortega. Geneva Rios with the National Tribune. Would you care to make a statement about the recent rash of suicides among Navy SEAL veterans?”

  “Um…” Kim gave a nervous laugh and glanced around, as if looking for her husband. “Tim should be out in just a moment, He’s far better equipped to answer your questions, Ms. Rios.”

  Taking her lead, several other reporters crammed into the space around Geneva and started bombarding Kim with questions as well. Good. If that bitch thought she could hurt the people Geneva cared for and get away with it, she was very much mistaken.

  Soon, Tim emerged from the mansion, wearing a slick suit and a smile just as fake as his wife’s, and moved beside Kim into the harsh media glare. He waved to the assembled press then stepped up to a podium that one of his beefy bodyguards carried out of the mansion and set up for him.

  “Good evening, everyone,” Tim said. “It’s my understanding some disturbing allegations have been brought to light tonight, but I’m eager to set the record straight on why our candidate, Frank Sutton, is the absolute best choice for Congress and to answer any other questions you might have to the best of my abilities.”

  Like lions to a fresh kill, the reporters descended on the Rigsdales, everyone shouting questions over one another until there was nothing but a cacophony of confusion. Exactly what Geneva had hoped would happen. She stepped forward into the chaos to ensure the focus stayed on her and away from whatever might be happening with the guys and Mark.

  “Mr. Rigsdale. Geneva Rios from the National Tribune again. Can you address the allegations of racism and sexism made against Frank Sutton and The American Way Foundation? What was your involvement in the SEAL suicides?”

  Tim stared down at her, his expression neutral though his gaze sparked with anger. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Rios.” His tone said the exact opposite. “I’d like to say here and now that neither we nor Mr. Sutton had any involvement in the tragic deaths of those SEALs and any slanderous rumors of biased behavior by The American Way Group are completely false. Mr. Sutton and all of us who believe in The American Way only want what’s best for our country. We want to get America back to what it once was, back on top of the world, both economically and ethically.”

  “And who decides those ethics, Mr. Rigsdale?” Geneva countered. “You?”

  Tim gave a derisive snort. “This country was built on certain values, Ms. Rios. Justice, truth, the pursuit of happiness for its rightful citizens. But perhaps those things are difficult to understand for an immigrant such as yourself.”

  Geneva bristled at his comment, but kept her composure. This pompous ass was digging his own grave deeper with every word out of his hateful mouth. Best of all, it was live on TV across the country. “I was born and raised in the USA, Mr. Rigsdale. Same as you. But thanks for asking.” This got a snicker from the surrounding reporters. “And you really haven’t answered my question.”

  “Well, I—” Tim’s answer was interrupted by a loud clang issuing from somewhere near the west wing of the mansion. Please don’t let that be Mark and the guys. Please. Tim signaled to his two bodyguards to go check it out, and then returned his attention to Geneva. “To answer your question, Ms. Rios. The prestigious members of The American Way Foundation include some of the most prominent businessmen and women in the world. They would never condone the exclusion of anyone based strictly on their race, religion or gender. We do, however, think society needs to rethink its values. We think—”

  “No one cares what you think anymore, asshole,” another man said. He shoved to the front of the crowd wearing a T-shirt for Sutton’s opposition. “Why don’t you just shut the hell up?”

  Geneva’s eyes widened. She’d not invited Sutton’s opposition, but it appeared they’d turned up anyway. She wasn’t sure how’d they’d heard about her impromptu press conference, but she was glad to add them to the distraction. The air sizzled with barely suppressed rage and she took the opportunity presented by the crowd’s growing agitation to slip around the side of the stage and head for the front door of the mansion. Time was running out and eventually even a windbag like Tim Rigsdale would run out of excuses.

  Once inside the house, she looked around trying to figure out which way to go. On the left, it looked like a home office. Toward the back was the kitchen and dining with stairs leading up to what she assumed were bedrooms. Turning her head to the right, she saw more construction. Taking a chance, she ran behind the tarp hanging over the doorway and down the hall. Every door she ran past was open and the rooms were filled with equipment or building materials. Reaching the other end of the mansion, she found an open door with steps leading down. Turning to see if she could hear anyone in the main part of the house, she took a chance and ran down the stairs.

  Of course, wine cellar. Geneva kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner.

  The wine cellar door was open. And empty. All that was left on the floor was the remnants of what looked like a smashed cell phone. Geneva picked it up and stared at the back. Engraved there were the words, “To Leila. My aiga.” She couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to a SEAL to use what resources he had available.

  There was a loud shout from outside and the sounds of a scuffle. Geneva tossed what was left of Leila’s phone back on the ground then ran up the stairs and ducked out through a tarp-covered opening in the wall back into the yard. From what she could see, it looked like a bunch of protestors for Sutton’s opposition were causing a ruckus with the Rigsdale supporters near the front of the house.

  Perfect. Now if they could just get Mark out of there, they’d be all set.

  An engine revved nearby and suddenly the space
around her was flooded with halogen light. The Range Rover zoomed up beside her and Vann leaned out the window. “Hurry up and get in. Shit’s hitting the fan down there and we need to get out of here.”

  Geneva didn’t hesitate. She yanked open the back door on the driver’s side and climbed in, relieved to see Mark slumped on the back seat beside her. He looked bruised and battered and more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. Careful not to hurt his many wounds, she leaned over and carefully kissed him on the lips. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Sorry about the way things ended at the hospital. I was out of line—”

  “No.” Geneva put her fingers over his lips to silence him. “It was my fault.”

  “Hey, guys,” Jace said, from the front passenger seat. “Can we save the moment until we get back to the compound? We still have to make it through that angry crowd.”

  Vann drove slowly forward, trying to avoid the mass of people yelling, screaming, and fighting each other. On the front portico, the two bodyguards Tim had sent after the guys had returned to his side, but appeared to be having a hard time keeping the crowds at bay. The Range Rover had almost reached the edge of the driveway when a gunshot cut through the noise surrounding them.

  “What the fuck?” Jace shouted, pulling his own weapon.

  “Get down!” Mark pushed Geneva toward the floor.

  “Like hell!” She shrugged off his hold and peered out the window beside her. “Holy Shit! Tim Rigsdale is down! I think he’s been shot! There’s so much blood!”

  The people at the rally went nuts, screaming, crying and running everywhere. Pandemonium ensued. Reporters hurried to the makeshift stage to get their money shots of the carnage and the last thing Geneva saw before her view was blocked by the crowds was Kim Rigsdale sinking to her knees beside her husband’s body.

  “Shit.” Vann swerved hard to the left and out on to the driveway then accelerated fast. “We need to get off the estate before the cops arrive.”

  22

  “I can’t say how glad I am that you figured out my coded message,” Mark confessed as he hugged Geneva against him. His body ached in places he didn’t think possible but he would be damned if he would go to the hospital now. Not after everything that happened.

  “Well, you can thank your brothers for that one,” Geneva told him, smiling at the guys.

  “The mansion part wasn’t that hard but we were concerned once we got there. We knew we only had so much time with the distraction Geneva concocted.” Vann seemed to look at Geneva with a newfound respect making Mark wonder what went on while he was held prisoner.

  “We figured they’d want to keep you close but out of the way with everyone coming and going at the mansion. The abandoned construction was a bit like a giant neon sign pointing directly to you,” Jace told him as he drank his beer. “I still can’t believe the Rigsdales were behind the murders but there’s no way to prove it. It’s not like you managed to record anything.”

  Shaking his head, “No, what with the concussion and yet another accident, it didn’t occur to me to carry any sort of recording device,” Mark teased.

  It was close to three in the morning by the time they all sat around the television in Mark’s office. They’d grown silent as they stared at the television screen. The murder of Tim Rigsdale was breaking news on every station. Mark shook his head and sighed. “Guy spent his whole life trying to stay in the public eye and ends up dying to do it.”

  “Who shot him? That’s what I’d like to know,” Vann said. He pulled bottled water out of the mini-fridge against the wall and cracked it open. “From these news reports it sounds like they’re trying to blame some crazed opposition supporter.”

  “You don’t buy that?” Jace asked from his seat behind Mark’s desk.

  “Nah.” Vann took a swig of water then pointed at the television screen. “See that replay. Whoever shot him used a laser sight. You can see a hint of the red dot just before the bullet was fired. That was a precise hit too. Only a trained marksman could’ve made it without harming anyone else or drawing attention to what they were doing.”

  “You’re thinking military?” Jace frowned.

  “Most likely.” Vann glanced over at Mark, who sat on the sofa with Geneva beside him.

  “Dammit!” At once, everyone turned to look at Jace who tossed his phone down. “That’s another client who cancelled. That article in the National Tribune really did a number on us. Between it and this damn assassination that’s all over the news, we’re going to have to fight to protect our reputation.” Jace rubbed at his head in irritation.

  “So who do we have coming in next?” Vann questioned.

  Jace stood up and strode over to Mark’s desk. Grabbing the file, he tossed it at Vann. “Some restaurant heiress. Mary Conde. She’s all yours, man.”

  “Mercy Conde,” Vann corrected him. His eyes scanned the file, flipping through the pages before returning to her photo. Mark caught his interested look but at this point, exhaustion was rapidly overtaking him and he still had some unfinished business.

  “I think…” Mark took Geneva’s hand then pushed to his feet. “That I’m tired of talking about this shit right now. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  He didn’t miss the look Jace gave him but Vann was too busy staring at the photo of their next client.

  23

  Mark led Geneva out into the cool evening then around the side of the building to give them a bit more privacy. “Listen. When I was locked up in that cellar, I had a lot of time to think.” He kept a hold of her hand with his good one because it felt so awesome to touch her again. “I really am sorry about what I said back at the hospital, Geneva. Leila’s always telling me I judge other people way harsher than I judge myself.” He shook his head. “And she’s right. I expected you to trust me, but wasn’t willing to do the same for you. I’m sorry. If you want to keep your secrets, you can.”

  Geneva kicked a stone with the toe of her boot and gave a sad little chuckle. “Honestly, I really don’t have any secrets from you anymore. I told them all.” She scrunched her nose. “Well, except one.”

  “The boots?”

  “The boots.”

  “Seriously, you can wear whatever shoes you want—”

  “No. I want to tell you.” She sighed then turned to face him. “I’ve got six toes.”

  “What?” Mark frowned. “Did you lose the other four?”

  “No.” Geneva shook her head. “I mean I’ve got six toes on one foot. That’s why I wear these boots all the time. They’re specially made with extra space for it.” In the dim light from the nearby windows, he saw pink color suffuse her cheeks. “That’s why I made you keep my socks on when we—”

  “Because of an extra toe?”

  “Yes.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’m a freak.”

  “Well yeah, but I don’t think we can blame that all on your toe,” he said, grinning.

  “I’m serious.” She gave him an annoyed look and crossed her arms. “My parents ended up homeschooling me because of it when I was younger. I got bullied all the time.”

  “Kids can be cruel.” Mark took her hand again, pulling her away from the building and out into the parking lot, heading for his house. “But you can’t live your life based on old fears. And I’m a freak too. Hell, we’re all freaks. It’s just some of us hide it better than others.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, once they reached his front porch.

  “I want to show you something inside.” Mark fished his keys out of his pocket with his right hand then unlocked the door. “C’mon.”

  “I’ve heard that line before, buddy.” Geneva snorted. “You just want to get laid.”

  “That too.” Mark pulled her inside, and then slammed the door behind them before picking her up in his arms. His body ached and his ribs were killing him, but right now all he could imagine was lying in his bed with this beautiful woman and making her scream his na
me in ecstasy.

  “Be careful!” Geneva scolded, twining her hands around his neck. “You’ll hurt yourself again.”

  “I’m fine.” Mark took the stairs two at a time despite his injuries and her added weight, and didn’t stop until he’d tossed her into the center of his king-sized bed. “Or I will be, once you’re naked.”

  She giggled as he pulled off her boots, disrobed her, then himself, leaving them both nude, except for one thing.

  Slowly, Mark kissed his way down Geneva’s gorgeous body, taking extra time to worship her lovely breasts and belly, before working his way down her thighs and calves to her stockinged feet. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he slowly tugged off her right sock. She tensed. “Okay?”

  Geneva exhaled slowly then nodded. “Okay.”

  Once her toes came into view, all six of them, his heart swelled with affection. How could anything so cute ever be considered freaky? He bent and kissed each one, lavishing them with the attention they deserved before removing her left sock and proceeding to do the same.

  By the time he was done, Geneva had relaxed back into the bed and was smiling serenely. He kissed his way up her body to nuzzle her ear. “I adore every square inch of you, Geneva Rios. And having that extra toe just means there are more of you to love.”

  She pulled him down for a heated kiss. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He cupped her breast gently and stroked her nipple. “Like I said, I had a lot of time to think in that cellar. About what’s important. About whom I want in my life.”

  Geneva met his eyes, tears gathering in hers. “Me?”

  “You.”

  “Flaws and all?” she asked, her voice still a tad hesitant.

  “Flaws and all.” Mark slid his right hand down her belly to ease her thighs open and smiled. “Especially, the all.”

  “Oh, Mark. I’ve done a lot of thinking too and I don’t know how to say this…that is to say…I think. No, I know. I….”