Bulletproof SEAL

by Carol Ericson

  In response, she slid the window half-closed and left him to his fate.

  Chapter Three

  Rikki heard the door bang open all the way, and the woman with the Southern accent let out a whoop.

  “Whatcha doin’ there, sugar?”

  The man, who seemed a bit more sober, said, “This isn’t a burglary or anything, is it?”

  Quinn rattled the handcuffs. “Just a little...fun that got out of hand.”

  The man swore and chuckled. “Is the little lady still here?”

  Rikki held her breath as she pressed the palms of her hands against the rough siding of Quinn’s apartment building.

  “Long gone. Can I get some help here, Elvin?”

  “I don’t know about that, sugar. I like what I’m seein’.”

  Rikki didn’t blame Ms. Southern Belle. She’d liked what she’d seen of Quinn, too. His slide into despair over her supposed death couldn’t have been that dire, given the condition of his hard body. Hard all over. Hard for her.

  Elvin grunted. “Alice, if you think I’m going to hang around while you torture Quinn here, you’ve been drinkin’ too many Hurricanes.”

  “Who said anything about torture, and who said anything about you hanging around?” Alice must’ve walked toward Quinn, as her words carried right out the gap in the window.

  Rikki shuffled a few steps on the ledge to the left.

  “I finally got Quinn right where I want him, as soon as he loses that underwear.”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve had enough fun and games for the night. Thanks anyway, Alice.”

  Elvin interrupted Alice’s foreplay. “Do you have the keys, man?”

  Rikki traced the outline of the cuff keys in her front pocket. At least Elvin seemed to be in a hurry to get out of there. A nearly naked man in handcuffs would probably give this good ol’ boy nightmares.

  The handcuffs jangled against the radiator. “She took the keys. Must’ve thought it was pretty funny.”

  “You want me to call a locksmith or something? Go home and get my saw?”

  “God, no.”

  Quinn practically shouted, and Rikki couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. Served him right for leaving her for dead in the DMZ.

  “Grab a paper clip from the drawer by the dishwasher. There should be a bunch of loose ones in there. That’ll do it.”

  Rikki heard heavy footsteps and then heavy breathing near the open window.

  Alice asked in a low, hoarse voice, “You sure you don’t wanna give me a whirl, sugar? I know I could do you better than the girl who left you here.”

  “No offense, Alice, but I’m not sure you could. She wore me out.”

  Rikki clapped a hand over the laugh bubbling on her lips and teetered forward.

  Finally, Elvin came to the rescue. “Will this work?”

  “That’ll do it. Right there.”

  A scrape and a click later and Quinn said, “That’s better. Thanks, man, and thanks for picking up my hat. I could’ve lived without it.”

  “We’ll get out of here. Maybe that little firebrand will return.”

  Quinn raised his voice. “I hope so.”

  “Can we at least take the pizza?”

  Quinn answered, “Go for it, Alice. I’ll see you guys around.”

  “Maybe another time, sugar, when you’re not so...tired.”

  Quinn mumbled something incoherent, and Rikki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thankful she didn’t have to listen to some other woman having her way with a naked and chained-up Quinn.

  The front door shut, and Rikki’s eyelids flew open. Now Quinn was free, probably armed and most likely pissed off.

  The window beside her slid open the rest of the way, and Quinn stuck his head out. “Are you okay out here? God, I had visions of you tumbling off my building.”

  Rikki tossed her head. “It’s a wide ledge and it’s so humid out here, I’m practically stuck to the side of the apartment.”

  “Come here.” He stretched out his arms. “And for God’s sake, be careful.”

  She sidled along the wall and ignored his help when she got to the window. “I got this.”

  When Quinn stepped back, Rikki swung into the room, her gun in the waistband of her jeans. She drank him in, still in his briefs, a light sheen of sweat dampening his chest.

  “Why did you do that? Why’d you leave me hooked up to the radiator?”

  “How was I supposed to know your front door was unlocked? If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of breaking into your place through your bathroom window.”

  “You left me exposed to that...man-eater.” He hooked a finger around one bracelet of the cuffs and dangled them in the air. “I should’ve taken her up on her offer and left you out on that ledge until morning.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Her question wiped the smile from his face. “Because you’re here, standing in front of me, fulfilling every one of my wishes over the past year, and now I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  Before she had a chance to blink, Quinn had her in his arms, and hers curled around his neck in a traitorous response.

  His head dipped, and his mouth sought hers. The kiss he pressed against her lips tasted like booze and...desperation. Her muscles tensed. She wasn’t here to be Quinn McBride’s salvation.

  The desire that pumped through her veins and clouded her brain began to lift. As if waking from a dream, she planted her hands against the flat, smooth planes of muscle shifting across his chest. She pulled away from his demanding mouth, backed away from the prodding erection that promised a night of heaven and a morass of hell.

  “Quinn. We’re not doing this.” And how much of “this” was a trick to lure her into trusting him?

  Quinn’s large frame shuddered. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and clenched his fists at his sides.

  Rikki felt the loss of his touch like a cold wave washing over her. Tears ached in her throat. While she’d been locked up, she found out it had been Quinn behind that sniper rifle, and her hatred of him had kept her alive in the labor camp—that and his baby in her belly.

  Without her anger, what did she have left but love? And loving Quinn McBride had only ever brought her heartache. That’s all love ever brought.

  Flexing his fingers, he turned away from her and plucked his shorts from the floor. He stepped into them and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just hope you believe me, that I’d changed my mind about the assignment. You can’t stand there and tell me that if the CIA had given you orders to take me down, you wouldn’t have done it.”

  “I guess we’ll never know.” She shoved her hands in her front pockets to stop herself from reaching for him again and smoothing her palms against the muscles that bulged and dipped beneath his flesh. “It’s not like we were...together at the time of your mission, anyway.”

  He sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t put that on me. I tried to follow up with you, but you’d disappeared and wouldn’t respond to my messages.”

  “I had my own assignment going on. That’s when David told me about Vlad and the North Koreans. At the end of our affair, I thought we’d decided to call it what it was.”

  “And what was it, Rikki?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the skin across his biceps tight.

  She flipped the unfamiliar dark hair over her shoulder. “A fling—a dangerous, ill-conceived fling that defied all the rules of the navy and the CIA. A fling that would’ve gotten both of us written up and reprimanded.”

  “You really believe that shooting you offered me a way out, a way to keep our affair secret?” His dark eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What we did wasn’t the brightest move on either of our parts, but it wasn’t enough to get me court-martialed or ruin my
career. And you spooks break the rules all the time to justify the means in the end.”

  Licking her lips, she took a step back. “I’ve never slept with someone to get intel.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “I didn’t mean...” She waved one arm over his shirtless body. “I didn’t think that’s what you were doing here.”

  “Really? ’Cause you sure pulled away fast. The Rikki I knew wouldn’t have been able to turn off her desire like that. The Rikki I knew ran as hot as blazes.”

  A pulse beat at the base of her throat, and tingles ran up the insides of her thighs. Their need for each other had been undeniable and unquenchable. Whenever he’d touched her, she’d responded like a feral creature, her hunger not satisfied until he’d taken control of her body and mind in every way, slaked her thirst, tamed her wild cravings. He’d been the only man in her life who’d understood what she needed—before she’d understood it herself.

  Her nipples crinkled under her T-shirt, and the familiar wanting throbbed between her legs. Beneath half-closed lids, her gaze wandered to the handcuffs Quinn had let slide to the floor.

  If he didn’t ask now, if he didn’t wait for her consent, if he restrained and ravished her body like he used to, he’d fill the need she’d carried with her since the day she left him in Dubai.

  She cleared her throat and stuck out her hand. “Truce? You don’t get in my way, and I won’t kill you.”

  He ignored her outstretched hand. “I can help you. Someone must already be giving you information, since you seem to know a lot of what went down. One of David’s guys?”

  “You’re right. Someone else is already helping me, so I don’t need your assistance.” She swept her weapon from the counter and shoved it into the back of her waistband. “I just needed to hear a few things from your own lips.”

  Her cell phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket. She entered her code and swiped her finger across the text message that had come through. She read the words Gator Lounge and then shoved the phone back in her pocket.

  When she raised her head, she almost bumped Quinn’s chin. He’d moved in on her again, and the heat coming from his body seemed to find its way into her pores.

  She stumbled back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He held up his hands. “Since you wanted to talk to me, does that mean you already suspected I’d changed my mind about assassinating you?”

  She’d been hoping like hell he could convince her, and he had done so, but she still didn’t think she could tell him about Bella—not yet.

  “I was blinded by rage when I found out you were the sniper on that hill, but I’d already figured any navy SEAL sniper worth his salt would’ve been able to take me out before dropping those soldiers—especially you.” She held up one finger. “But the fact that you took the assignment enraged me just the same.”

  “I’m sorry, Rikki. If I had to do it all over again...”

  “You’d do the exact same thing. Duty and country.” She crouched down and picked up the handcuffs, then snapped them in their holder on her belt. She had no intention of leaving them here for Alice.

  “I won’t be staying in New Orleans long, and you can get back to doing whatever it was you were doing.” She wrapped her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle on the kitchen counter and tipped it back and forth. “But if you’re getting deployed again soon, I suggest you clean up your act, sailor.”

  “Where are you off to next? You can stay here until you leave.”

  She snorted. “Not a good idea. Take care of yourself, Quinn.”

  She held out her hand for a shake again. This time he took it, but instead of squeezing her hand, he cinched his fingers around her wrist and rotated her hand around. He pressed his lips against the center of her palm. “I’m glad you’re alive, Rikki. Makes the world a whole helluva lot more bearable.”

  She pulled away from him and crossed the room to the front door. As she grasped the handle, she tried to think of some flip, clever way to say goodbye, but her throat closed and her bottom lip trembled.

  In the end, Rikki slipped out the door without another word or backward glance.

  The sultry night air pressed against her as she loped along the streets not far from the French Quarter. She ducked into a clump of bushes in a park a few blocks from Quinn’s apartment and pulled out her scooter.

  Just after midnight, the bars would still be open, and Rikki had another appointment at the Gator Lounge before she settled her business in this city. Before she left Quinn—maybe for good this time.

  She hopped on the electric scooter and motored back toward the lights and action of downtown.

  One quick glance over her shoulder, and she let out a sigh of relief. Nobody had followed her. Why would anyone be following her? As far as the CIA knew, a North Korean soldier had shot her dead in the DMZ and a trustworthy navy SEAL had witnessed her death.

  She could trust Quinn not to out her. Besides, if he did and the CIA brought her in, he’d be going down with her. She’d make sure of that.

  Traffic got heavier as she got closer to the French Quarter. She kept her eye on the side mirror to monitor anything unusual behind her, and would slip between cars if someone seemed to be following too closely or for too long.

  When she reached the streets of the French Quarter, still teeming with tourists, she located the bar and then stashed the scooter on a side street. She slid from the seat and ran her fingers through her hair. Her contact had indicated the bar had a casual atmosphere, but she didn’t want to look like she’d just come in from a horse ride.

  She ducked to peer into the side-view mirror and pulled a lipstick from the purse strapped across her body. She hadn’t thought to primp before accosting Quinn in his apartment, but then she hadn’t thought much at all about what she wanted to accomplish by seeing him.

  To make sure the heat still blazed between them? Check. To see if he still had a body that could weaken her knees? Check. To find out if her presence would make him happy? Check.

  She had to admit to herself that seeing him...disheveled had given her a small, petty sense of pleasure. It had also backed up his claim that he’d had a change of heart about shooting her. Quinn wouldn’t be drinking if something weren’t troubling him.

  Now that she’d confirmed that, she’d have to tell him about Bella. He deserved to know about his daughter, even though he’d never mentioned wanting children to her.

  She straightened up and pulled her blouse over the gun in her waistband. She didn’t expect trouble from her contact, but she had to be prepared for anything. Ariel had vouched for him, and that was good enough for Rikki.

  She’d know her guy by his blue Dodgers cap in a city with no pro baseball team. Rikki joined the throng of tourists still crowding Bourbon Street after midnight, and quickened her pace when she saw the street for the bar up ahead.

  Someone plowed into her and she spun around, her hand hovering at her waist. The drunk who’d bumped her gave her a sloppy smile and raised his drink. She stepped to the side and rounded the next corner. A green neon sign announced the Gator Lounge, and Rikki surveyed the pedestrians behind her before ducking inside the darkness.

  She shivered as the air-conditioning hit her warm skin. She’d overdressed for the heat and humidity in jeans, a blouse and tennies, but shorts and a T wouldn’t have worked for breaking into Quinn’s place and carrying a weapon and cuffs.

  Her gaze flickered across the small cocktail tables and then rested on the back of a man seated at the bar, a blue baseball cap on his head.

  Rikki scooped in a breath and threaded her way through the tables. As she hopped onto the stool next to her contact, she waved at the bartender.

  “What can I getcha?” The bartender slapped a napkin on the bar in front of her.

  “Light beer, no glass.” She slid a glance to her right
to see if her words registered with the man in the Dodgers hat.

  She waited for his prearranged response—a folding of all four corners of his napkin.

  He picked at the label on his beer bottle with his fingernail.

  She held her breath.

  The bartender placed her beer on the napkin. “Three dollars. Running a tab?”

  “No.” Her eyes glued to her contact’s cocktail napkin, she unzipped the front compartment of her purse and pulled out a five.

  Finally the man beside her dipped his head. “I have what you want, but who are you?”

  The question had her convulsively clenching her fist around the bill in her hand. That was not part of the deal. He wasn’t supposed to ask any questions. He was supposed to hand over a flash drive with information—after folding the damned corners of his napkin.

  She turned toward him and smiled sweetly. “You can’t possibly have what I want...sugar. And who the hell are you?”

  He jerked his thumb upward, hitting the bill of his cap.

  Rikki’s heart stuttered. None of this made sense. He had half of the plan right, and it couldn’t be just a coincidence. Who else would be wearing a Dodgers cap in this particular bar in New Orleans at this exact time?

  Her laugh tinkled as she creased her money and tucked it beneath a candle. “Sorry, I’m no Dodgers fan. In fact, I don’t even like baseball.”

  Wedging one foot on the floor, she took a quick gulp of her beer. She needed to abandon this rendezvous—and fast.

  As she shoved herself to her feet, the man grabbed her wrist and growled in her ear, “I have a gun pointed at your ribs. Make a move, and I’ll take you down.”

  Chapter Four

  Quinn plowed through the crowd of people on Bourbon Street, stepping on a few toes and upsetting a few drinks. The Gator Lounge occupied a side street, and he made for the corner of that street like a heat-seeking missile.

  Before he stepped through the front door of the bar, he tugged his baseball cap low on his forehead. If Rikki made him as soon as he walked into the bar, he’d lose his chance to find out what business she had in New Orleans. He might lose his chance of ever seeing her again.