SEAL of Honor

by Tonya Burrows

“All right.” Holding up his hands in supplication, he moved toward her and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Some victories just weren’t worth the battle. “You’re right. I was out of line.”

  She nodded once. “Always knew you were a smart man.”

  Gabe sighed. Fifty years down the road, he’ll probably still be hearing about this argument. And for some reason, that thought didn’t scare the holy hell out of him. In fact, he sort of looked forward to it. What kind of sick bastard was he?

  “I was out of line,” he admitted again, figuring a second time couldn’t hurt. “But, Audrey, I do need you to tell me what happened, how we ended up here, and where here is.”

  After a second, her posture relaxed and she rolled her lower lip through her teeth. “Promise not to freak out?”

  “I’ll do my best.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth in protest. “That’s all I can promise, Aud. I told you I don’t break promises, so I never make ones I’m not sure I can keep.”

  But he had made one, hadn’t he? Back in that jungle hut, after she’d kissed him senseless, he had promised to protect her. Yet he wasn’t careful enough and now, despite their plush accommodations, she could be in more danger than ever. He had the sickening feeling he already knew where they were and who their generous host was, and ground his back teeth at the thought.

  Striving for patience, he waited silently as she hesitated again. God, she was killing him.

  “Audrey, talk to me.”

  “We’re at Mena’s estate in Cartagena,” she blurted.

  Gabe dropped his head forward and let out a long breath. Luis Mena, public enemy number one. Holy fuck. “How?”

  “Those were his men that attacked the camp. But it’s not what you think,” Audrey rushed on. She knelt in front of him, bending to put her face in his line-of-sight. “Gabe, really. I talked to him over lunch and this isn’t a bad thing.”

  Luis Mena, not a bad thing. That’s like saying Hitler was misunderstood. And, whoa, she talked to him over lunch? She had to be out of her flippin’ mind. “Do you have any idea what that man’s done? What he’s capable of doing?”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve heard the horror stories same as everyone else in the Western Hemisphere. But he isn’t our enemy.”

  He gave a humorless laugh. “He’s everybody’s enemy.”

  She pursed her lips. “Okay, I can’t argue that. But you know that old saying about the enemy of my enemy. Will you just hear me out?”

  “No.” He abruptly stood. Audrey lost her balance and fell backward on her butt.

  “Gabe!”

  “Get up. We’re leaving. Now.”

  “And you’re more than welcome to,” a pleasant, barely accented voice said from the doorway.

  In one quick move, Gabe had Audrey off the floor and tucked safely behind him as he faced one of the most hated men in this half of the world.

  Intel put Luis Mena close to seventy, but nobody knew for sure. Steel gray hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache showed his age, but he still had the toned body of a much younger man. Topping out at several inches under six feet, he was a thin man with stylish black-framed glasses and a surprisingly warm smile. He looked like someone’s grandfather—and, in fact, he had several grandchildren and one infant great-grandchild—but that appearance belied his true persona. That of a stone-cold killer.

  “We’re leaving,” Gabe said again.

  Mena stepped aside and motioned to the open door. “As I said, you are more than welcome to go, but I would very much appreciate it if you and your lovely wife joined me for supper first.”

  Audrey shifted uncomfortably behind him at the word “wife.” Interesting. But not important right now. “I don’t think so.”

  “Pity.” Mena waited until they were almost out the door before adding, “Because I think I know where to find Bryson Van Amee.” He smiled when Audrey pulled Gabe to a stop. “That is, if you’re interested, Commander Bristow.”

  Gabe kept his face impassive, but something—a flicker in his eyes, a tightening in his shoulders—gave away his surprise because Mena laughed.

  “Yes, I know all about you, Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Bristow, former commanding officer of the American Navy SEAL Team Ten, bravo platoon, forced into retirement due to an injury sustained on your way to a training operation last year in Virginia.” His smile took on an edge. “Training, I was told, that was meant to help you and your team take down my business.”

  How did Mena know that? Gabe managed to show no reaction, but—shit. The objective of that training mission had been highly classified information that most of his team hadn’t even known.

  Audrey looked up at him, worry in her eyes. He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, still making sure to keep his body in front of hers. Which, naturally, drew Mena’s attention right to her.

  “I was quite surprised to find out you have a wife,” Mena said. “None of the information I have on you—which really isn’t much, I’m ashamed to say—mentioned a spouse.”

  “It’s recent,” Audrey blurted.

  Jesus Christ, woman. Give him more ammo against us, why don’t you? Gabe tightened his grip on her hand, hoping she got the hint to stay quiet.

  This counted as a massive clusterfuck if he’d ever seen one. How they’d ended up married he had no idea, but it put her in even more danger than she realized. Married meant he cared for her—and, dammit, he did—which meant Mena could use her against him. If he’d known Mena thought they were husband and wife from the get-go, he would have treated her the way his father treated his mother, coldly and with disinterested tolerance. If he didn’t care, she was not worth Mena’s time. She’d be safe.

  But the fact he still held her hand and used his body to protect hers nixed that plan. Any fool could see how much he cared.

  “Recent, you say?” Mena’s brows climbed toward his hairline behind his glasses. “I see. Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, then. We’ll drink the finest bottle of Bordeaux in my collection with dinner to celebrate.”

  “We’re not staying.” The thought of sitting down to a civil dinner with this generation’s Hitler soured his stomach.

  Audrey tugged his hand. “Yes, we are.”

  “No.” He tried to force patience into his tone and failed miserably. “We’re not.”

  “Gabe! He wants to help us find Bryson. How can you refuse that?”

  Because nothing Mena did came without a high cost. He wasn’t offering to help out of the goodness of his heart—he didn’t have one—and his motives were most likely pure as sin. “We’ll discuss this later. My team—”

  “Is no closer to finding him, I assure you,” Mena said easily. “I’ve kept a close watch on all of you since your arrival in my country. As a precaution, of course. I had no idea you were investigating Bryson’s disappearance until Señor Miller told me this morning when he brought you in.”

  “Is that why you had us followed?” Audrey asked, and no way could anyone miss the hope in her voice. “Just as a precaution.”

  “And my men ended up dead.” His Cheshire Cat grin didn’t waver. “However, let’s not get into all that now. I think this conversation will be more palatable over good food with good wine, don’t you agree?”

  “Gabe, please,” Audrey whispered behind him. “I need to find Bryson. Please.”

  Her pleading all but shattered his heart. He couldn’t deny her, even though every instinct screamed to get her far, far away from Mena’s lengthy reach. A deserted island might do the trick. Yeah, and then what? Stay there for the rest of their natural lives?

  No, he wasn’t a runner. He was a fighter, and if he wanted to keep Audrey safe, he had to face this threat head on. Alone. Unarmed. With a bum foot.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Finally, jaw clenched, he nodded once. Behind him, Audrey let go a hiss of relief.

  “Excellent,” Mena said. “Dinner shall be served on the veranda tonight at six-thirty. I’ll have appropriate attire sent
up for you both.” He eyed Gabe with a faint sneer of disdain, prince to pauper, and Gabe thought, fuck you. “You’ll, of course, want to bathe before dinner, so I’ll take my leave.”

  The door shut and Gabe heard the unmistakable snick of a lock. Just a mind game since the balcony was wide open and a locked door wouldn’t keep Gabe from leaving if he really wanted to go. Still, the sound of a lock closing off an exit always sent a quick skitter of panic down even the most trained operative’s spine. It’s human nature to want freedom. Mena’s nature to take it away.

  Audrey stared at the door in wide-eyed horror. “Why did he lock us in? He said we’re guests. He—”

  “Doesn’t trust me.” Gabe gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “And you shouldn’t trust a thing out of that man’s mouth. He’s more sophisticated and better dressed, but he rates right on level with Cocodrilo. Don’t let him blind you to that.”

  “But…but he said he knows how to find Bryson.”

  “That’s what he says. Is it true?” As tears filled her eyes, he let go of her shoulders to cup her face and brush them away.

  “It could be,” she whispered.

  He sighed. “Audrey, don’t cry. We’ll find out what game Mena’s playing during dinner. Until then, let’s get some rest.”

  Because he needed time to strategize. A group of recon marines spent two months quietly scoping out Mena’s home last year, and the DOD built a replica of the house and outbuildings in Virginia to run invasion scenarios with, so he knew the floor plan of this estate. Knew all the weak spots in the security system. Liam Miller, the British mercenary hired by Mena to oversee security, was good at what he did, no doubt about it. But Gabe and the SEALs were better, and if there had been no accident, if Operation Black Boa had gone down as planned, Mena would be sitting in an international prison right now awaiting trial. Not that he deserved a trial.

  Gabe led Audrey over to the bed. She looked wrecked, exhaustion bruising her eyes with dark circles. Had she slept at all while he was unconscious? He’d bet not.

  Truthfully, unconsciousness didn’t count for sleep, either, and his own energy levels were also in the danger zone. He knew the fuzzy, disjointed feeling well, knew if he didn’t catch a couple hours of sleep he’d crash out and be of no use to anyone.

  “This is all so messed up,” Audrey murmured, snuggling into the big bed on her belly, arms wrapped tight around a pillow.

  “It is.” He tucked the blanket around her. “SEALs refer to situations like this as fubar. Fucked up beyond all recognition.”

  Her lips curved in a hint of a smile, but it didn’t last long. “I’m not going to sleep.” Even as the words left her, she yawned.

  “Try.”

  She yawned again. Now that she was horizontal, she was fading fast and fighting it. “I shouldn’t have convinced you to stay here.”

  Gabe thought about telling her that despite what Mena had said, the drug kingpin wasn’t going to let them leave until he was good and ready for them to go. Their surroundings were more comfortable, but substituting a castle for a prison doesn’t change the fact it’s still a prison.

  Instead, he brushed back a lock of her hair. “Sleep.”

  “Hmm.” Her eyes fluttered shut and a second later, she was gone.

  Wishing he were that pillow she cuddled so close and cursing himself for the unprofessionalism of that thought, he sat on the edge of the mattress and watched her for a long time. Her braid had loosened, spilling pale golden brown hair over the paler gold blankets. Her eyes moved restlessly behind their lids, and every once in a while she made a small sound of protest and hugged the pillow tighter. He reached out, traced the curve of her cheek with one finger, and she settled again with a soft sigh.

  Ah, hell.

  He started to remove the pillow from her grip and caught a whiff of himself. Whew. He couldn’t subject her to that stench. Shower first, then sleep—with Audrey tucked safely in his arms for a couple hours.

  Sleeping together like that wasn’t unprofessional, right?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When the bed sank and Gabe’s muscular arm slid under her, Audrey woke. His skin was still warm and dewy from a shower, and he’d shaved. His hard jaw felt baby smooth as he nuzzled her ear. He pulled her close, his natural male spice and some kind of flowery soap scent enveloping her. Yum. She wanted to bury her nose in his shoulder and breathe in nothing else, but that would require moving, and she was quite comfortable now that he was in bed with her.

  Except for the blooming ache between her thighs.

  She smiled without opening her eyes. “You smell like a garden.”

  He grunted. “It’s the shampoo. Some girly designer shit. I had no choice.”

  And he sounded really unhappy about that. Audrey stifled a laugh in the pillow, sure he wouldn’t appreciate it. “It’s nice.”

  “I’ll be sure to order a bottle,” he said, deadpan.

  She huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Do you ever get sick of being so sarcastic?”

  “Do you ever get sick of being so contrary?”

  She elbowed him in the gut—and, ow! About like jamming her elbow into a block of stone. But she still heard a satisfactory umph in reply. “I am not contrary.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Hey!” She moved to elbow him again, but he caught it and in one deft move had her on her back, pinned to the mattress with a big hand on each arm and one thick leg locked over both of hers.

  With his pelvis pressed to her hip, she’d have to be a dolt not to recognize the bulge she felt there as anything less than carnal male interest. About freaking time. Despite their increasingly dicey situation, or perhaps because of it, she’d been dying for an opportunity to get her hands on him again. And this time, he wasn’t going to talk her out of doing what she wanted to do to him.

  “Stop. Hitting. Me,” he said through his teeth.

  Why? He needed to get hit every once in a while to remind him he was no superhero. But saying that aloud wouldn’t improve her chances of getting him naked in the next five minutes, so she gave her most innocent smile instead. “Okay. How about I do this?”

  With her arm still in his grip she couldn’t move her hand far, but managed to wiggle it close enough to his crotch to cup him through his jeans. Pity he’d put the things back on after his shower.

  No, on second thought, it wasn’t. Now she’d have the great pleasure of stripping them off him.

  The way he reacted to her touch, you’d think she prodded his family jewels with a branding iron. He jerked away and rolled to a sitting position on the side of the bed, his back to her. And what an amazing back, a perfect V of muscle that made her mouth water. She wondered if he’d flee in terror if she licked her way down the indentation of his spine.

  Hmm. Only one way to find out.

  Audrey crawled across the bed and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the back of his neck. On a groan, his head dropped forward. She took that as encouragement and experimentally ran her tongue along his spine, pausing long enough to give him a love bite on the elaborate tattoo covering his shoulder blade.

  “Audrey, Jesus. Stop. We can’t—”

  “That’s not what you said last night. Or this morning.”

  “I was trying to comfort you, give you something to focus on besides the guerillas and what they might do to us. That’s all.”

  Oh, that hurt. But only for a second, because no way would he respond like this if that really was all.

  “Liar.” She shook her head and scooted off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of him. He gritted his teeth so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek and the fingers of one hand kept clenching and unclenching.

  Good. She wanted him riled up. She wanted him to lose control. She just plain old wanted him. And she knew he wanted her, because the evidence was right there in that massive erection. So why did he keep fighting it, the stupid man?

  She reached for the fly of his jeans, but he caught her wrist. �
�It’s not right.”

  “Oh, yes, it is.” She swatted his hand away and made fast work of the buttons.

  Hallelujah, he’d gone commando underneath the jeans and she freed his erection. A bead of moisture appeared on the flared head of his penis.

  And he claimed to not want this. Riiight.

  Leaning over, she licked the drop away and grinned at the shudder that wracked his big body.

  “Audrey…” His voice came out hoarse and he tried clearing his throat twice before continuing, “This is not professional. I won’t take advantage of—”

  “Looks to me I’m the one taking advantage right now.” She blew on his glans, savoring the way his fingers tangled in her hair and the way his hand trembled. She could almost hear his mind frantically working to come up with a good reason to stop.

  “We need to sleep,” he said.

  “This won’t take long.” To prove her point, she tongued him from base to tip and felt every muscle in his body go rigid. He let out a ragged groan and hauled her up by the shoulders to kiss her hard. His tongue invaded her mouth, the kiss stealing her breath.

  Yes. She had him. Finally.

  But then, panting, he ripped his mouth from hers. “No, goddammit. We’re not doing this here. For all we know, Mena could have cameras—”

  Oh no, he wasn’t pulling back now.

  “So we’ll give him a show.” She straddled his lap and pulled her dress over her head. He wasn’t the only one going commando under his clothes and his gaze latched onto her naked breasts. He moistened his lips as if he wanted to bend over and taste her, so she threaded her fingers into his hair and urged his head down.

  Oh, yes. He used his teeth to tug her nipple to a point and groaned in a half-desperate sound. Shocks of pleasure zinged from her breasts to the spot she really wanted him to kiss, the spot that already wept for him. But, dammit, she couldn’t enjoy it yet, because the stubborn man had at least one hand still clutched on those reins of his control and was already starting to pull away from her again.

  “C’mon, Gabriel.” Audrey repositioned her body to rub against his length as she rocked her hips, teasing him with her heat, her wet desire. Leaning forward, she nipped his earlobe. “Walk on the wild side with me.”