Bound By Temptation

by Trish McCallan

He grimaced, hoping like hell she wouldn’t get a wild hair and spill the beans to Rio. While Dante still associated with the teams, his loyalty was to the law now, as it should be. He wouldn’t stand aside and let them grab the bastards.

  Russo muttered something nasty beneath his breath.

  “Our best chance of finding out why these guys are after you is to draw them into a trap. We have the man power and training to do just that.”

  “I know that.” She turned to stare at him, tension in the rigid line to her jaw, worry burning in her eyes. “But shouldn’t the cops be in on this?”

  “So they can arrest the bastards only to have them lawyer up without telling us anything?” He paused, slowing the Jeep to take another right turn. “We need to find out what’s going on, Emma. You won’t be safe until we do. And there’s no guarantee the cops will get that information from them. The boys and I can—we will.”

  Conflict worked the muscles of her face. “But won’t you get in trouble? There was something on the news a while back about some Navy SEALs facing charges for breaking some federal law that prevented them from acting as cops. Isn’t this the same thing?”

  She was talking about Zane, Cosky, Rawls and Mac, and the backlash when they’d broken the Posse Comitatus Act. The ugly mess they’d been sucked into had hit all the news channels. A mixture of frustration and rage stirred. His teammates hadn’t deserved the assholery that had followed. Talk about getting fucked over for doing the right thing. He sought out Russo’s gaze in the mirror and saw the same disgusted fury burning in his L.C.’s black eyes.

  “No. It’s not the same thing.” He kept his voice quiet, confident. “We won’t take premeditated action; we’ll be reacting to a home invasion, protecting our lives and property. There may be an investigation, but nothing will come of it.”

  He glanced in the rear view mirror, grimacing at the dry expression on Russo’s face. Had Mackenzie and Zane thought the same thing?

  “I see.” She was silent for several heartbeats, before releasing a big, shaky breath. “So we’re just going to wait for them to attack you?”

  He held the smile inside but satisfaction rose. She’d just aligned herself with him. “That’s about the size of it. You’ll need to stay the night with Chris Quay and Lynden Racine.”

  For the first time unease touched her face. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

  “Because if our plan goes south, I want you safe. Which means off the premises.” He shot her a reassuring look. “You’ll be safe with Quay and Racy.”

  “Let me guess, they’re SEALs too.” Her tone was dry, rather than admiring.

  “They used to be.” He left it at that. If they wanted her to know more, they would fill her in themselves.

  Silence rode with them for the next mile. They’d almost arrived at their destination, when Emma suddenly twisted to study Lucas’s face.

  “Didn’t you say Officer Addario is coming to the barbeque,” she asked, her eyebrows rising.

  “I did.”

  “Why in the world did you invite him? He’ll know something’s going on.”

  Lucas grunted. “Not if we handle things right.”

  She shook her head, which apparently wasn’t strong enough to convey her skepticism, because she added an eye roll. “I knew something was going on, and I’m not nearly as suspicious as your buddy.”

  Fair point. He frowned, before shrugging the disquiet off.

  The upcoming barbeque was key to their strategy. It gave them a reason to congregate. It gave everyone a reason for coming and going as they traded sentry duty. It gave the bastards following Emma a good look at where she was staying, while she was safely surrounded by bodyguards.

  The only downside was Rio. Once those assholes tailing Emma made their move, everything that took place prior to their attack would come under scrutiny. The fact he’d thrown a barbeque wouldn’t go unnoticed. Rio would know the instant he heard about the shindig that something fishy had gone on. Addario had always been invited to the SEAL community’s get-togethers. The fact Lucas had talked to him earlier that day, without mentioning or inviting him to the event. would raise a huge, red flag.

  For their strategy to play out as planned, they’d had to invite Rio.

  They just had to make damn certain they didn’t throw the game into Addario’s court.

  * * *

  Emma gingerly stretched, catching her breath at the whitewash of pain that flashed down her spine and into her legs. She was about due for another batch of pain pills.

  A quartet of male voices shouted in laughter across the cement patio, next to the smoking barbeque. She inhaled the rich, greasy scent of cooking meat as she relaxed back into the recliner’s leather embrace. She’d already laid waste to one of Tag’s thick, juicy hamburgers, sneaking pieces to Cuddles, who’d taken to hiding beneath the footrest of the recliner. But the delicious, tempting scent permeating the air was luring her toward a second helping, even though her belly was full and her body lazy.

  With an effortless leap, Cuddles jumped onto Emma’s lap. After a nervous glance toward the horde of men clustered around the patio, she curled up and laid down.

  Where were the women? Didn’t any of these guys have girlfriends? Wives? Significant others? In the past there had been women along with the men at Lucas’s barbeques. Why not this time? Maybe it had something to do with the fact this party was an elaborate ruse, and the men weren’t actually here for socializing but for setting a trap. She’d have to ask him, when he returned to her side. He’d been busy playing host, shifting from group to group, with periodic checks on her, over the past hour.

  But before his attention had been captured by his hostly duties—or more likely, strategic planning with the rest of his team—he’d dragged the huge, comfortable living room recliner onto the patio. For her. He’d gone to all that trouble for her. To make sure she had a cushy place to sit, rather than the hard, plastic chairs spread throughout the patio.

  Once again he’d keyed into her wellbeing and silently taken steps to make her as comfortable as possible. He’d taken care of her. Again. Like he had when he’d arranged the clean-up for her house, and when he'd mowed her lawn, and when he appeared by her side with a couple of pain killers and a glass of water. Or like early this evening, when he handed her a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, rather than a beer.

  He’d remembered her favorite wine, and had Tag pick up some bottles.

  Something about that stung her eyes.

  In a sense, even this trap he’d set for her stalkers was his way of taking care of her. Protecting her.

  Everything he’d done, over the past twenty-four hours, had been intended to keep her either comfortable or safe. She frowned. Something in that realization niggled at her, but before she had a chance to chase it down, Lucas dropped into the plastic chair beside her recliner.

  “How you doing?” he asked, raising his voice to combat the conversational roar surrounding them. He handed her a pair of white pills and a glass water.

  He must be keeping a pretty close eye on her, because he always seemed to know when the stiffness and muscle spasms started back up.

  “I’m good,” she yelled back, which caused poor Cuddles to jolt and jump off her lap. After tossing the pills back and washing them down, she patted the side of the recliner, encouraging Cuddles to jump back up. Once the dog was settled in her lap again, she caught and held Lucas’s sharp gaze. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  He shrugged, looking uncomfortable, and lifted the bottle of Coors to his mouth. As he tipped his head back and took a long pull, the muscles of his neck flexed. The strongest impulse shook her—to press her lips to that strong throat and taste him. Her breast instantly heated, her nipples pebbling.

  Seeking a distraction, she glanced over the two dozen or so men milling about the porch. They sat or stood—beer bottles in hand—in clusters of three to eight. The guys sure liked their beer and brand didn’t seem to matter. As each of Lucas’s friends arrived, th
ey added a case or half case to the bottles chilling in the cooler. She’d seen a good dozen brands in various masculine hands.

  The brush of fingers against the bare skin of her arm sparked goosebumps and chills. She knew who’d touched her before even turning her head. Lucas lifted her wine glass from the small, square table sandwiched between them and raised his brows. His gaze was steady on her, as though she were the only person on the patio.

  She shook her head with a smile. Two glasses of wine was her limit, particularly when combined with pain killers.

  A combined roar shook the patio again. The men Lucas had gathered on her behalf had split into multiple groups. The groups would merge, only to break apart and reform.

  Rio, however, wasn’t in any of the clusters.

  She waited for a break in the noise level before reaching out to touch Lucas’s arm. “It’s a good thing Officer Addario never showed up.”

  Lucas cocked his head, his intense gaze still locked on her face. “Why?”

  “Because he’d know instantly you guys are up to something,” she said with another glance over the crowd.

  There was an odd energy to the men. It sizzled between individuals, sweeping through the various groups, lighting the patio with an almost static crackle of…something. He followed her gaze, taking a slow pull on his bottle.

  “Adrenaline,” he offered during an ebb in the conversational flow. “We’ve been on stand down for months. Everyone’s a little antsy.”

  You’d think being out of the war zone would be a good thing. “Is it always like this before one of your missions?”

  “Mostly after a stand down. The adrenaline settles after that, routine sets in.”

  Emma was about to mention the lack of women was another dead giveaway that more was going on than it appeared, when his bottle froze on its way down from his mouth.

  “Speak of the devil,” he said.

  Emma followed his gaze. Addario was weaving his way between clusters of men, nodding to shouts of recognition, pausing for handshakes or back slaps. Pounding some backs in return.

  Lucas disappeared, returning with two fresh bottles of beer while Rio was still working his way through the flurry of taunts, shoves, head-rubs and shoulder punches.

  What was it with such men? Were they only able to show their affection through physical demonstrations of strength and verbal abuse? The testosterone load practically singed the air.

  “Thought you were a no-show,” Lucas said, once Rio reached their side. He handed him a dripping bottle.

  Rio glanced over the crowd, who’d returned to their earlier conversations, that adrenaline fueled crackle humming just below the surface again. A frown squinted his eyes, but he simply jerked his head toward the open patio door.

  Which was apparently a silent request for privacy, because Lucas set his bottle of Coors on the table next to her wine glass and stood.

  He walked around to the other side of the recliner and leaned over Emma, his mouth next to her ear. “Rio has news, let’s head inside.”

  She quivered as his moist breath tickled the inside of her ear. When she struggled to vacate the recliner, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, which added to the tingles, and butterflies, and flash fire of moist heat that crashed through her like quicksilver. As she hobbled her way through the open slider, Cuddles skulked along behind them. Once inside the kitchen, Lucas shut the patio door and the noise level dropped in half. It dropped another few decibel points between the kitchen and living room.

  Cuddles waited until Emma gingerly settled in the arm chair beside the couch before curling between her feet with a gusty sigh.

  “What’s with the buzz?” Rio asked, jerking his chin toward the kitchen’s sliding door.

  Emma bit her lip, tempted to send Lucas a silent I-told-you-so.

  “Orders came down today. We’re shipping out,” Lucas said, without the slightest hesitation.

  “Ah, figured as much from the lack of ladies.” Rio accepted the explanation instantly, without hesitation. “When do you go wheels up?”

  Lack of ladies? There was an actual reason why women hadn’t been invited?

  “Within the week. No specifics yet.”

  “Wheels up?” Emma glanced between the two men. She almost asked why women hadn’t been invited, only to drag the question back. If this had been a true barbeque, she would have asked this question much earlier. Asking now might give Rio pause, might make him look at things closer.

  Both men turned to face her, but Lucas offered the explanation. “Slang for shipping out. The wheels of the airbus lift as it leaves the tarmac.”

  Her chest tightened beneath a sudden surge of dread.

  Lucas had offered the explanation so quickly and casually…was there truth to it? Was he headed off for another deployment? It would explain the excitement brewing below the surface out there. Most of the men were from Lucas’s SEAL team.

  She couldn’t ask him. Not with Rio present. Nor did it really matter, because he’d ship out eventually. That’s what SEALs did. The realization burned its way through her, turning her stomach sour and sweating her palms.

  She’d always known he’d eventually head back out of town for his job. But she’d thought it would be in an office somewhere across the country—or the world—behind a computer or pouring over dusty ledgers. His career hadn’t seemed particularly dangerous.

  But as a SEAL…one of those elite warriors who penetrated enemy territory, who targeted terrorists, or rescued hostages from armed pirates. Every time they went wheels up, as Lucas and Rio had referred to it, they faced death. She shuddered.

  Maybe he had a point…maybe she didn’t know what she was getting into.

  “What do you have?” Lucas asked Rio.

  His intensity was focused on Addario, rather than her, which was a lucky break. There was a very good chance her sudden dismay had registered on her face. Lucas didn’t miss much. He certainly wouldn’t miss her reaction to his news, which would just reinforce his earlier misguided assumption that she couldn’t handle the consequences of his profession.

  Okay, maybe not so misguided. And maybe not that much of an assumption.

  “Carmichaels, in Carlsbad?” Rio looked at Emma, his black eyes flat and copish. “That’s where you bought the loveseat?”

  Emma nodded. “They have great pieces, at fairly cheap prices.”

  Rio turned back to Lucas. “It was robbed four days ago. The owner was killed during the robbery. According to the lead detective on the case, the perps took money, jewelry, coins and the store’s invoice books.”

  “They killed Mr. Carmichael?” Emma whispered, her voice so tight she could barely speak. Ice crystals formed in her veins and inched outward in an icy avalanche of disbelief and horror.

  A round, ruddy face and shock of bright white hair rose in her mind. His hair had always stood on end, like a mad scientist who’d received one shock too many.

  “According to his wife, he was anal about recordkeeping. He used receipt books, the kind with carbon paper. A copy for the customer and a copy for the store. All the books are missing for the last year.”

  Lucas scowled, glaring down at the floor. “Well we know what they’re after now, and we know they’ll kill for it. They must have found Emma’s address through one of the receipt books.”

  Did Addario believe her now? Accept that she hadn’t known what the men who’d ransacked her house had been after? It was hard to tell; coldness and suspicion still hardened his face.

  Emma swallowed. “If they’re after the loveseat, why rip my house apart? They would have known just by looking that it wasn’t there.”

  Rio drove blunt fingers through his hair. “Must be something inside the loveseat, something small. They were probably making sure you hadn’t found it and hid it elsewhere.”

  Lucas nodded in agreement. “Didn’t he keep records of his purchases? If we can find out who he bought the loveseat from, we’ll have our first lead on who’s
behind all this.”

  “Oh yeah. The old man was a stickler for paperwork. He kept ledgers of his purchases, which include names, addresses, and the corresponding check number and amount he paid for each piece.” Rio paused and then added with an undercurrent of disgust. “None of which is going to help us find out who sold him the loveseat.”

  Lucas growled. Pacing to the window, he poked the blind aside. “They took those too?”

  “The one covering the past year. We’ll have to go through the store’s bank account. But the checks don’t list what the purchase was for, just the ledger entry number. It’s going to take time to track down the items. It would help if we knew approximately when he bought the loveseat, but his wife doesn’t remember that particular piece of furniture.”

  “I can narrow it down a bit,” Emma said. “It wasn’t in the store back in January when I visited and I bought it the first week of April.”

  “So between January and April.” Lucas pivoted and headed back across the room, his focus on Emma. “See if you can get hold of your friend and set up a meeting. We need to take a look at this thing.”

  “She’s out of town this weekend and won’t return until late tonight,” Emma said absently. Another worry rose. “Do you think she’s in any danger?”

  “She shouldn’t be. Unless there was something in your house that pointed them in her direction,” Rio said.

  The entire project had been verbal. Emma couldn’t think of anything in her house that referenced the loveseat or where it was currently located.

  Emma looked up at Lucas. “Could you get my purse? My cell phone is in there.”

  She took the purse Lucas handed her and dug out her phone. After scrolling through her contact list, she highlighted Sam’s name and hit the green phone icon. But the call just went to voicemail.

  “What’s her address? I’ll have dispatch send a unit over to her place, make sure the doors and windows haven’t been tampered with.” Rio dug into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a cell phone.

  “I can give you directions to her house,” Emma said, squirmed slightly. “But I don’t know her actual address.”