Protecting Dakota (Sleeper SEALs Book 1)

by Susan Stoker

  “You ready to talk?” he asked her, pulling out one of the chairs to the small square table sitting next to the communal kitchen. “It’s a pretty full house over at the restaurant.”

  “Yeah, people tend to get going early around here. At least the tourists. And while I really like Pat and Connie, they’re the worst gossips. I guess it comes with not much to do or see out here,” Dakota said matter-of-factly, and sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her.

  They made small talk as she finished eating and when she licked the maple frosting off her fingers, Slade had to shift in his chair to give his dick room. He’d grown hard at the look of satisfaction on her face as she’d finished the donut, but when she began to use her tongue to catch every last speck of the sugary confection, he almost came in his pants.

  “You said something earlier that I’ve been thinking on,” Dakota said quietly, interrupting his inappropriate sexual thoughts.

  “What’s that?”

  “You said that Aziz is foreign. Tunisian. What did you mean by that?”

  Slade was puzzled for a moment. “What do you mean, what did I mean? I meant exactly what I said.”

  “But he’s American,” Dakota told him.

  “Aziz Fourati is the leader of the Tunisian faction of the Ansar al-Shari’a terrorist group,” Slade said firmly.

  Dakota’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “Okay, then who was the guy at the airport?”

  “Hang on, let’s back up a second,” Slade said, and he stood to go to the sink. As he pulled off a paper towel and wet it in the sink, he continued. “I’m part of a top secret task force assigned to find out all I could on Fourati and take him down. He’s gaining followers online. Quickly. I told you he’s trying to replicate the LAX bombing all over the country in simultaneous attacks. No one is sure where he’s getting the money to fund such an operation, but at the moment that isn’t important. He’s sneaky. He’s good at staying under the radar, and the fact of the matter is that the government can’t find him, partly because there are no known pictures of the man. Absolutely none.”

  He squeezed out the paper towel and came back to the table. As he continued to talk, he picked up each of Dakota’s hands and gently cleaned them of the sugary mess the donut had left behind.

  “Part of my goal, other than making sure you’re safe, is to get a description of the man, maybe even a sketch, so the government knows who they’re looking for and can put it into the facial recognition program. That way, if he ever steps foot inside an airport again, they can stop him.”

  Dakota put her hand over his, halting his movements. She looked into his eyes. “The man who pretended to be a hostage, and then ranted and raved for twenty minutes before he ordered the other guy to blow himself up, is American, Slade.”

  Slade’s fingers gripped her own. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Positive. He had blue eyes and blondish hair. He also had what I’d say was a New York accent. I know people can fake accents and change their looks, but at no time did I ever think he was anything but American when I was around him.”

  “Did he ever call himself Aziz?”

  “No. I didn’t know his name until you said it, remember?”

  “Then it might not be the same guy,” Slade said more to himself than Dakota. “Tell me about LAX,” he ordered gently.

  “I was in the security line waiting just like everyone else. I heard yelling and screaming and turned to see what was happening. There were two men waving rifles around and shouting. They pointed their guns at a group of us in line and ordered us to follow them. We were herded through a door that said ‘employees only,’ I guess one of them had the code or a swipey thing to get in. I have no idea. Anyway, we all were marched down a hall and through another door into some sort of room. Maybe a break room or something for the employees?

  “Everyone was scared and crying. One of the guys had explosives strapped to his chest. He handed that Aziz guy a pistol. He pulled me to my feet by my hair and held the gun to my head as he spoke. He had one arm around my chest and jammed the muzzle of that gun to my temple. He said that America was broken. That no one understood the meaning of spirituality anymore and that the Quran was the answer. He said it would take a grand act to make everyone face their mortality and turn to the revelations of God according to the Quran.”

  She was whispering now, and while Slade hated the fear on her face as she recalled the awful experience she’d been through, he let her continue to speak. He needed to hear what happened in that airport, and she needed to get it out so she could begin to heal.

  “There was a younger hostage there, I hate that I don’t even know his name, but he stood up and challenged the guy I now know was Aziz. And he just shot him. Took the pistol away from my temple, shot the guy who stood up for me, then pressed it right back against my head. The barrel was still hot and it hurt. Everyone began to scream and cry even louder as the man lay on the floor bleeding. Dying. And Aziz didn’t care. He started talking about how every leader needed a woman at his side, supporting him. Having his babies to continue the dynasty.”

  Slade couldn’t stand it anymore. He pushed his chair back a few inches, then grabbed Dakota’s hand. He pulled her up and into his lap. She snuggled into him as if they’d done this exact thing hundreds of times. He was tall; at six-five, most furniture didn’t fit him well, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment if he was uncomfortable. He’d sit there and hold Dakota in his arms as long as she needed him to.

  He put one of his big hands on the back of her head and held her tightly to him as she continued.

  “I knew he was talking about me, that he wasn’t going to martyr himself for his cause like I first thought. He rambled on a bit more and continually checked his watch as if he was waiting for a specific amount of time to pass. Then he nodded at the guy with the explosives, fired in the air, I think to make everyone scared of what was going to happen, then pulled me behind him as he quickly walked away. I knew if I didn’t get away from him, he’d make me his sex slave and keep me locked up. So as soon as we exited the room, I attacked him.”

  “Good for you,” Slade murmured, interrupting her for the first time.

  “Not so good,” she said with what he hoped was amusement. “I kicked him and he went down, but I didn’t incapacitate him. I started to run toward the door that led back into the terminal, but he caught and tackled me. He kneeled above me and whispered, ‘Good to know my future wife has courage. You’re going to need it.’ Then he bent down as if he was going to kiss me, but that’s when the explosives went off. I don’t know if the guy set them off too early or not, but I saw surprise and anger in the man’s eyes before the ceiling fell in on us.”

  “His body protected you from the debris,” Slade guessed.

  She nodded against him. “Most of it, yeah. Knocked him out cold. Something hit my arm and broke it. I was so scared and the guy was deadweight on top of me, but I wiggled out from under him, hoping he was dead, and made my way out to the terminal. It was chaos, and no one realized that I’d come from the room the men with guns had entered. I was just another frantic person trying to get away from the building. I blended right in.”

  She fell silent then and Slade let her have the moment. A couple minutes and a few deep breaths later, she continued. “I thought I was good. That I’d gotten away. But I figured out pretty quickly that he didn’t die.”

  “How did you know?” Slade asked.

  “Because a week or so after I went back to work, I started to get presents delivered to my office. They were delivered anonymously, but I knew. Each one was addressed to ‘My Future Bride.’ There wasn’t anyone else who would do that sort of thing. I’m not the kind of woman who has secret admirers. I quit the day one of the second-graders in my school brought me a box tied with a red bow. She said a man had given it to her outside the front doors and told her to bring it to me.”

  “What was it?” Slade prompted when she didn’t continue.

&nb
sp; “A plastic grenade,” Dakota told him as she sat up a little straighter on his lap. “The bastard was not only threatening me, but all my kids as well. I called the cops, they took the threat seriously, but there wasn’t much they could do. There weren’t any prints and the little girl couldn’t really describe the person who gave her the box.”

  “So you quit.”

  “I quit,” she confirmed. “I didn’t want to. But what else could I do? He wasn’t going to leave me alone, I knew it. Heck, he told me. Then it got worse. My apartment complex burned to the ground. I know it was him. He wanted me scared out of my mind with no place to go and ready to agree to anything he wanted.”

  “But you’re too tough for that.”

  She chuckled then. A sad sound that conveyed her hopelessness. “I don’t know about that. I went to my dad’s, said goodbye and told him to be careful, not to trust anyone who came to the door, then left. My first plan was to go to the East Coast, as far away from California as I could get, but I only made it to Vegas. And now here I am.”

  “Why Rachel?” Slade asked, genuinely curious.

  “I wasn’t planning on staying. I met some people who told me all about the area and how cool it was. I thought it sounded like a good place to hole up for a while, figure out what my next move was going to be. But I didn’t take into account that when I got here, there wouldn’t be any gas stations, and I didn’t have enough fuel to get me to one.” Dakota shrugged.

  The chuckle began softly enough, but when she looked up at him and her own lips quirked into a grin, he couldn’t hold it back. He threw his head back and laughed. She joined in and soon they were laughing at the randomness of life.

  Through chuckles, she elaborated, “I quickly got that sorted out, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Rachel was a great place to hide. I’m paid in cash and can save up some money while not using my credit cards, and there aren’t a lot of people out here, so I can keep watch on who comes and goes pretty easily.”

  Slade finally got himself under control and said, “I think staying out here was a really good idea. It’s like you’ve been hiding in plain sight.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m sorry you lost all your belongings in the fire.”

  “Don’t be. It was just stuff. My dad still has pictures of my mom, so I don’t even feel that bad about losing mine. I feel worse for the families and other residents who lost everything because some asshole thinks he can take whatever he wants. If you ask me, he’s less a terrorist than a big baby.”

  “Can you describe him for me?”

  “He’s about my height. Five-nine or so. He’s got short blond hair, at least he did a few months ago. Blue eyes. Pale skin. He was dressed really nice in the airport…slacks, polo shirt, and he was carrying a briefcase. I don’t know if it was just a prop or not. He was fairly young. Probably mid- to late-twenties, if I had to guess. He was muscular and honestly looked like any other businessman on his way to a meeting.” Dakota sat up straight on Slade’s lap and looked him in the eyes.

  “He looked like the boy next door, Slade. Completely harmless, which is what made what happened so scary. When he was on top of me in the airport and looking down at me, I swear to God I saw nothing but blackness in his eyes. I don’t think he cares about religion at all. He just wants to kill people. He gets off on it.”

  Slade closed his eyes in both relief that Dakota had gotten away from him, and frustration that the search for the terrorist just got tougher. A man with his description could blend in anywhere in America.

  “You aren’t going to be able to find him, are you?” Dakota asked, obviously more attuned to him than he’d thought.

  Slade opened his eyes and looked directly at her as he swore, “We’re going to find him.”

  “But how? He—”

  “Sweetheart, you’re not going to have to worry about this guy for the rest of your life. I know people who know people who know people. They’ll find him. Can I change the subject for a second?”

  “Oh…well…yeah, I guess so,” she said uncertainly, obviously not really wanting to drop the subject of Aziz.

  Slade tightened his arms around her waist and asked, “You feel this?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded shyly, not asking what he meant.

  “Yeah. I’ve been in your presence for less than twelve hours and I can tell you without a doubt that you’ve somehow become the most precious thing in my life. I’ve been married and divorced, I have nieces and nephew and I love my family. But nothing has ever made me feel like I do right this moment with you in my arms.”

  “We don’t know each other,” she protested.

  “I know.”

  “And we’re too old for this kind of insta-lust.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Slade said with a grin. “I might be forty-eight, but I’m not dead, sweetheart. I spent four years married to my ex, and not once did I ever feel this way about her.”

  “What way?”

  “Like if I take my eyes off you, I’ll lose something precious. Like I want to hold you so tightly against me, until I can’t ever remember what it feels like to not have you in my arms. Like if I don’t kiss you right this second, I’ll die.”

  He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t just scared her away.

  Instead of answering him or laughing at his words, Dakota slowly leaned toward him. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and the erection Slade had been controlling with sheer stubbornness sprang to life at the desire he saw there.

  One of her hands came up between them and landed on the side his neck. Her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin behind his ear, and her thumb rested on the side of his face and caressed his beard.

  “I’ve never kissed a man who had a beard before.”

  “Then I think it’s about time you did,” Slade told her, not moving an inch. He wanted her to take what she wanted. He wanted to make sure this was something she wanted to do.

  Dakota pulled him toward her and kissed him.

  She kissed him.

  The second her lips touched his, however, Slade took over. It was enough that she’d made the first move, he couldn’t hold back any longer. His head slanted, his hands came up to frame her face and he devoured her. This was no tentative first kiss, this was a claiming.

  Slade’s tongue pushed past her barely parted lips as though if he didn’t get inside her in the next second, he’d die. Their tongues tangled together as they kissed. When Dakota pulled back to take a breath, Slade followed her, not giving her more than a second’s respite before claiming her mouth again.

  For what seemed like hours, he drank from her. She tasted like sugar and peppermint. It was a taste he knew he’d crave for the rest of his life. Slade learned that she enjoyed a little roughness, but melted into him when he lightly nipped and sucked on her lower lip. He brushed his cheek against hers, smiling when she made a whimpering sound deep in her throat as his beard made contact with her sensitive skin.

  Sometime in the midst of their kiss, she’d turned into him and straddled his hips on the small chair. His cock was now flush against the cleft between her legs, and she was rubbing herself against his hardness in the same rhythm he was using to suck on her tongue.

  When he finally allowed her room to breathe, he rested his forehead on hers and held her hips tightly against him as they both fought to catch their breaths.

  “I think it’s safe to say I like you back,” she said with a small smile.

  His lips twitched, but he remained serious when he said, “Good.”

  “I thought your beard would be scratchy. But it’s really soft. It feels good.”

  “I’m glad you don’t hate it. I’ve gotten kinda used to it.”

  “I don’t hate it,” she told him firmly. They sat still for a moment, then Dakota asked softly, “Should I be embarrassed about this?” She motioned to their laps with her head.

  “Embarrassed that I can feel how hot and wet you are from on
ly the touch of my mouth on yours? Fuck no. You can see and feel how much I liked it.”

  At his words, her hips nudged his hard-as-nails dick once more and he smiled at her.

  “This is the beginning of us,” he declared firmly. “I don’t care what the future holds. I’m not giving this up. I’m not giving you up.”

  “It’s probably the danger thing,” Dakota told him. “You’ll feel differently when it’s all over.”

  “Wanna bet?” Slade asked.

  “What?”

  “A bet. I bet you fifty peppermint mochas and maple-iced donuts that when Fourati is dead, I’ll still want you just as much, or more, than I do right this moment.”

  “Oh…uh…okay. And if it’s just the heat of the moment?”

  “It’s not.”

  “But it’s not a bet if you don’t bet on both sides, Slade.”

  He smirked. “Fine. If, after Fourati is out of your life for good, I don’t feel exactly how I do right now, like I want inside you more than I want my next breath, then I’ll give you enough gift cards to set you up for life with your coffees and pastries. And if I do, then I’ll personally deliver a coffee and donut to you in our bed every morning for the rest of our lives.”

  Dakota opened her mouth to speak—but Slade quickly covered it with his hand.

  It was as if a switch had been turned on inside him. He lost the relaxed, teasing vibe he’d had when they were talking about the bet, and was suddenly all business.

  “Shhh,” he ordered urgently, easing them to their feet at the same time.

  Dakota nodded and he took his hand away from her face, running his thumb over her lips in apology for how hard he’d been, even as his eyes swept the interior of the small space.

  The soft noise came again at the other door of the trailer.

  Slade didn’t waste any time. He pushed her into the room she’d showered in, grabbing her backpack as he went. Closing the door silently, then locking it, he turned to Dakota and slipped the backpack over her shoulders without a word.

  He stalked silently to the window and pried the top of the blinds apart a minuscule amount so he could see out. Seeing nothing alarming, he quietly pulled the cord to open them and pushed the window up. Thank God there was no screen.