* * *
Emma glanced around her trashed bedroom. At least they were making progress, although it was taking forever since her pace was snail slow these days.
“Ah, Miss…I can’t let you do that.” The slow to smile, far too serious young man Tag had introduced as Milly stepped forward to ease the laundry basket from Emma’s hands.
Her fingers tightened around the plastic grip, which was stupid, stupid, stupid according to her abraded, disgruntled hands. They took Milly’s side with stinging vengeance, forcing her to let go.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing something,” Emma said, lifting her chin, even though her knees and hands, and well…every inch of her body violently disagreed.
She hadn’t thought her body could hurt any worse than it had the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been wrong. The pain killers Tag had given her, after they’d administered Cuddles’s shot, had gotten her through the night. But she’d woken barely able to move. A glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen had been sitting on the bedside table. She wanted to believe that Tag had been the angel who’d left the painkillers, but Cuddles hadn’t barked. The lack of barking indicated her angel had been someone the dog had acclimatized to…which meant Lucas.
The thought of Lucas standing there, watching her sleep…a shudder worked its way through her body. But it wasn’t one of discomfort, more like sexual titillation. Lucas had primed her for early morning erotic escapades, she just hadn’t had a chance to indulge in them lately.
If it hadn’t been for Cuddles, Emma would have stayed in bed all day. But the dog needed her insulin, which was in the kitchen, which meant getting up. The living room and kitchen had been empty, no sign of Lucas. But the blanket and pillow tossed on the couch confirmed where he’d spent the night. And then Tag had shown up and told her why she hadn’t seen Lucas yet. The man had rounded up a crew to clean her house.
She should have been furious about his over-reaching. Instead, relief had flooded her. The cleanup had loomed over her since Friday night, a dreaded weight dragging her down. There was so much work involved, it had been hard to face it…alone.
Facing it with six, athletic, disciplined SEALs by her side was another thing entirely. They’d torn through the cleanup like the warriors they were. She knew five out of the six men from Lucas’s periodic barbeques, however Milly was a new face. From eavesdropping on the conversations surrounding her, he was also new to their team. Fresh out of training. Half the time they addressed him as banana, or minnow, or boy.
Boy? There was nothing childish about the soft spoken, sandy haired, hazel eyed, all-too-masculine young man. There was nothing feminine about him either, so how’d he end up with such a girlish name? She suspected it had something to do with the banana and minnow and boy salutations—some kind of ritual hazing. Like a frat house.
“Where do you want this?” Milly asked, indicating the basket he held by lifting it.
“The laundry room. Two doors to the right.” She followed him out of her bedroom and down the short hall past the bathroom. “What’s your real name?” she asked as he set the basket in front of the washing machine. There was no way she was calling him Milly.
“Cody Millian.” He cocked his head, his smile relaxed and knowing. “But my friends call me Milly.”
Well, at least his SEAL buddies did. He didn’t seem to mind though. Of course, given the frat mentality, if he showed any signs of minding he’d be stuck with the name forever and called it incessantly.
“Well, Milly,” she said, twisting the dial on the washing machine to heavy duty and pulling the knob out. The sound of water hitting the steel drum filled the room. “I’m perfectly capable of lifting cloth, so I’ll do the laundry.”
It just might be the only thing she was capable of handling today. He must have agreed with her assessment, because he offered her another of those unhurried smiles and disappeared out the door.
By the time she returned to the living room, the room had been completely cleared of broken furniture and the floor had been swept. The kitchen had been cleaned up too. Devlin Russo, Tag’s lieutenant commander—which made him Lucas’s as well—was wrist deep in soapy water with clean dishes draining into the sink on his right and a pile of dirty dishes on his left. She stopped to stare. There was just something so incongruous about a lethal, weathered warrior doing dishes.
“I appreciate the help, honestly I do,” she said, hurrying across the smoky green, diamond shaped tile to the sink. “But I can take care of the dishes myself. It’s the big stuff I needed help with.”
Russo’s dark head turned. A black, shuttered gaze scanned her face before dropping to her hands, which Tag had insisted on medicating and re-bandaging before they’d left for her house. “You should wait a few days before getting them wet.”
He sounded like Lucas, which reminded her. “Where’d everyone disappear to?”
“They’re around.” Apparently dismissing the discussion, Russo turned back to the sink.
Not much of a conversationalist, was he?
The roar of a lawn mower started up in her backyard. They were mowing her lawn too? She shifted to stare out the kitchen window above the sink. Well not all of them, just Lucas. Somehow that realization brought the sting of tears. Why, she had no clue. It hadn’t even occurred to her how hard it would be to take care of her yard. But Lucas had thought about it and done it for her. Somehow that simple act of kindness melted her heart.
Something brushed against her leg and she looked down to find Cuddles staring up at her with bright, excited eyes. The dog had certainly adapted remarkably well to her new life. She’d barely barked at the half dozen strange men she’d found herself surrounded by.
By the time the house was cleared, cleaned, swept and ready for habitation again, Emma was desperately in need of more pain meds. Lucas, once again, seemed aware of that fact before she was herself. Just as Emma was about to hobble into her bathroom and find the bottle of aspirin, Lucas showed up at her side with a glass of water and two white pills. His hot body toasted her right side, alleviating some of the pain from her aching muscles. With a sigh, she reached for the water and pills. After swallowing the meds, she offered him an appreciative smile.
“Thanks. For everything.” Her throat tightened. Her eyes started to burn. She was just tired, that’s all. The sting of tears had nothing to do with how quietly supportive he’d been all day and after she’d been such a bitch to him the day before. “I honestly can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me today.”
The muscles of his face loosened and the flat, careful look in his eyes lightened beneath a smile. “My pleasure.” He stretched his back. “You don’t have much to sit on now. If you want to hit a furniture store, we can do that before dinner.”
A furniture store meant new furnishings, which didn’t work for her current budget. However, down the road, she’d check out some of the secondhand stores around town. She’d gotten a great deal on the loveseat Samantha was reupholstering, at Carmichaels. She’d try them first.
“The seating won’t be so sparse once Sam delivers the loveseat,” Emma said absently, soaking in his damp heat. He smelled of cut grass and sweat, neither of which should smell so intoxicating, yet somehow did. At least on Lucas.
“Delivers?” A hint of sharpness edged Lucas’s question. “The loveseat wasn’t here when your place was trashed?”
Emma shot him a puzzled look, but then the meaning behind his question registered. “No,” she said slowly. “I picked it up at a secondhand store months ago, I loved the bones of it,”—it had the high, arched sides and back of the Victorian era— “but the upholstery was stained, and torn, and simply awful. Sammy’s an upholsterer, so she offered to have it recovered as a house warming present.”
Lucas frowned. “Did you tell Rio about this?”
She shook her head, feeling like a fool. “I’ve had it for months, and Samantha’s had it a couple of weeks now. I’d forgotten about it.”
Could that really be what the intruders had been looking for? But after a second she shook her head again. The loveseat being the focus of the home invasion didn’t make sense. “Whoever ransacked my house was looking in some pretty small places—like behind picture frames and inside pots. Why bother, if they were after the loveseat?”
His frown eased. After a second, he shrugged and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know, but it’s worth mentioning to Rio tonight at the barbeque.”
She pulled back in surprise. This was the first she’d heard of a barbeque.
“We’re just about done here. Tag took off to grab some burgers and beer. Milly and Mooch are headed to the dump with the truck. They’ll meet us back at the house,” Lucas said.
Okay…
“I wish you’d told me about this before now.” Emma straightened with enough of a snap to set her spine screaming. Maybe she should ease back on the sudden movements until the aspirin kicked in. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give him a good lecture on neighborly etiquette. “The least I can do is feed you guys. After all, you spent the whole day helping me out.” She might not be up to cooking for six ravenous adult men, although a barbeque sounded like heaven, but— “I can at least pick up the tab!”
“You can pick up the tab next time.” He slung a casual arm over her shoulders and turned her around, shepherding her toward the front door. “Just relax and let us take care of you for now.”
She subsided, mostly because Lucas was an unmovable object when he was dead set on something. Besides, she could slip Tag the money for the food and beer when she paid him back for the new kitchen door he’d picked up and installed. They stepped out on the porch. Lucas waited for her to close and lock the front door. Emma concentrated on easing down the stairs without antagonizing her knees and back. Once the grass was beneath her feet, she relaxed and glanced up, ready to apologize for being so slow.
Only Lucas wasn’t paying her the slightest attention. He was too busy scanning both sides of the street, the houses across the road, the homes to their right and left, and the two elderly couples walking the side walk. He shot his taciturn lieutenant commander, who was leaning against Lucas’s Jeep, a questioning look.
Russo responded with a clipped nod, followed by his own quick scan of the street.
What the heck was going on?
Although he didn’t say a word or try to hustle her along, she sensed a sudden shift in Lucas’s attitude—he went from patient to restless, maybe even edgy. When they reached his Jeep, he waited for her to pick up Cuddles and then helped her into the passenger seat. After slamming the door, and he approached Russo. The two men spoke, a terse conversation full of frowns that concluded in seconds.
Too bad she couldn’t hear what they were saying; something told her it would be illuminating.
When Lucas climbed behind the wheel and Russo into the back seat, Emma twisted to stare at them. Another sudden movement, followed by another sharp twinge of punishment.
She waited for her breath to return. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Lucas said.
And that had been the most unconvincing response she’d ever heard from him.
“Russo’s car is still parked in front of my house,” she reminded him. “Why is he coming with us, instead of driving his own car over?” she paused, before adding flatly. “Something’s going on.”
The two men exchanged looks.
“We’re just taking precautions. Avoiding a rinse and repeat,” Lucas finally said, shooting her a reassuring look.
He meant a repeat of what had happened the morning before, when the men in the van had tried to kidnap her.
Cruel fingers sinking into her arms…dead eyes watching her struggle with a terrifying lack of sympathy.
A chill winnowed through her, sinking deep. She’d almost forgotten the incident. She’d felt so safe with Lucas beside her, she’d managed to shove the attempted kidnapping to the back of her mind.
“Do you think—” She twisted further in her seat to stare down the road they’d traveled. This time the jolt of pain felt removed, unimportant.
“No.” Lucas covered her tense, bandaged hand with his. “We just believe in being prepared.”
They were SEALs. And from what little she’d heard and read about this particular breed of men, they took precautions to the extreme. So it made sense that he’d have backup in the car with him—just in case.
So why didn’t she believe him?
Why was that little voice inside her, the one she’d learned to pay attention to years ago, whispering that there was more to their paranoia than simply being prepared?
Chapter Eight
Lucas had barely pulled away from Emma’s house when Dylan Hollister hit his phone up.
“Yeah?” He shifted in the driver’s seat, the leather squeaking beneath his jeans and sealed the cell to his ear so Emma wouldn’t catch the conversation—or at least Hollister’s half of it.
“You have a tail,” Hollister said laconically. “Black SUV. Tinted windows.”
Lucas wasn’t surprised. That vehicle had been hinky from the get-go, triggering all his reflexes. Besides, he could see the asshole in his rear view mirror.
Didn’t the bastard have any training? He should have backed off at least a half dozen car lengths, or better yet—tag teamed him with an associate. As it stood, the SUV stuck out like a big black thumb.
“I got him,” Lucas said.
From the skeptical looks Emma kept tossing his and Russo’s way, she hadn’t bought his earlier attempt at reassurance. Even though, at the time, everything he’d told her had been true. He and the boys had just been taking precautions—that’s what special operators did. And they hadn’t known for sure whether the guy in the SUV was after Emma.
They knew for sure now.
His cell phone crackled, the static was followed by Hollister’s voice. “What’s the plan?”
“A barbeque. My place. Watch our six and circle in from the north.”
“Copy.” The call ended.
“If you tell me that call was nothing,” Emma snapped, “I’m going to tell Cuddles to bite you.”
Lucas glanced down at the scruffy mutt curled in Emma’s lap just as the dog fixed her misaligned blue and brown eyes on him and bared her gums. He fought to keep a straight face, but a grin snuck out.
“You think that’s funny?”
“Sweetheart, she has no teeth, which kinda defeats the threat.”
She harrumphed. “I’m not kidding, Lucas. Nor am I a child. What’s going on?”
Given the escalating situation and the fact he was about to make alternative sleeping arrangements for her, he’d have to tell her what was happening eventually. Might as well take care of that now.
“We’re being followed.”
She went rigid beside him, her fingers knotting in Cuddles’s fur. “Followed? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We’re sure,” Lucas told her.
He could hear the click in her throat as she swallowed. But then she coughed and straightened her shoulders. “By how many men?”
His chest tightening, he captured her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go. She had guts. He’d give her that. She’d faced her fear head on.
“One.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. The SUV was still on their tail. Even closer now.
Suddenly she relaxed. “Just one?”
Her reaction was curious enough to catch his attention. He shot her an inquisitive look. Her face was as serene and unperturbed as her voice.
“Against the six of you?” she continued with lifted eyebrows. “One against six SEALs? Is he mentally challenged?” There was honest to Christ amusement in her voice.
From the back seat Russo barked out a laugh. “She has a point.”
Lucas shook his head, smiling. “Give the bastard some credit, he doesn’t know we’re SEALs.”
She snorted. “With one look he should know that tangling with yo
u is a bad idea.”
Her faith in them lit a warm glow in his gut. From there the warmth mushroomed out, engulfing his entire body.
But she didn’t know everything…
He hesitated, glancing at her radiant, amused face. It was a shame to scuttle her confidence, but she needed to be prepared in case their strategy wandered into FUBAR territory.
“It’s doubtful he’ll try anything on his own. He’s probably a scout, sent to wait for you to show up and track you to where you’re staying.” Lucas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Although she’d stilled, she seemed more thoughtful than tense. “Okay. But you’re planning something, aren’t you?”
Russo caught Lucas’s gaze in the rearview mirror, caution heavy in his dark eyes. His L.C. wasn’t big on sharing strategy with civilians. But Emma wasn’t just a civilian. Their plan directly impacted her life. If they fucked up, it could end it. She had a right to know.
Which, come to think of it, had been her point the night before. Not the dying part, but the right to know part.
He frowned, checking the rearview mirror again. The black SUV was hanging in there. He slowed, took a right. The Vehicle—a Chevy Tahoe—navigated the turn right behind him. There was no doubt the bastard was following them. He was so fucking obvious; he’d be visible to a toddler. The real question was whether the bastard didn’t give a rat’s ass about being discovered, or whether he was really that inept.
“Lucas?” she said, her voice determined.
“Yeah?” He avoided Russo’s demanding gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to set sentries and wait for them to come to us.”
A hard shove from behind drove his seat forward a good three inches. His L.C. was not happy.
“Maybe you should talk to Rio before you set this trap,” Emma offered tentatively.
Ah fuck.
Bound By Temptation Page 9