Issued (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 1)

by Paris Wynters

  My pulse picks up and my breath shortens. All of the oxygen has been stripped from the room. For Christ’s sake, someone would think I was having a panic attack, except there’s a hot, wet weight between my thighs that seems to pulsate every time he moves.

  I exhale sharply, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, and I practically groan out loud when my legs clench together.

  Placing his keys into the wooden decorator bowl on the countertop, he stares at me from beneath his hat. His gaze drops from my eyes and rakes over the rest of me, falling lower and lower. Of all the times not to wear a bra. My cheeks heat up as I pull my coffee mug to my lips, faking a sip. I swear I’m going to burn that stupid hat so I can see exactly what he looks at. Jim holds a take-out bag from the sandwich shop down the street in his free hand. The aroma of the sweet cheese and bacon fills the kitchen and my stomach rumbles.

  He lifts a brow. “Hungry?”

  My cup, still at my lips, tilts forward. Lukewarm coffee dribbles down my chin. Just great. A string of snorts and choking sounds erupt from Jim as he poorly attempts to stifle his amusement. The back of my hand swipes over my chin to clean the liquid, and my eyes narrow.

  His mouth crimps and faint pink colors his cheeks.

  I pull myself together. Barely. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, using his shirt to wipe some of the sweat from his face as he sets the bag down on the kitchen table. “Don’t get too excited. They’re just leftovers.”

  This must be divine payback for the other day when I took my sweet ass time in the shower. Jim knocked so hard the wooden door almost splintered. When I finished, I scurried past him, head down, so he couldn’t notice the barely contained Cheshire cat grin plastered on my face.

  Jim turns and heads toward the fridge and I get distracted by the beauty that is Jim in motion. Good God, his backside is just as glorious as his front, and a beautiful dragon adorns his shoulder blades. He reaches in to take out the juice, the edge of his shorts riding low on his ass. An ass that’s just as distracting as the tattoo, if not more so. I dart my eyes away and wipe my chin again—just for good measure, in case I’m drooling.

  I catch a glimpse of him from my peripheral, and his muscular thighs flex as he reaches deeper into the fridge. A tiny groan erupts from my lips.

  When he stands, I refocus on the dragon rather than his delectable ass and study the way the blue lines intricately swirl with black-and-gray ones. Strategic white accents give the tattoo dimension. The artwork is amazing. My stomach clenches as I rescan the tattoo.

  Four.

  Four times he’s been shot in the back. Is that what happened to him? God, what damage did those bullets actually do? My heart thumps so hard I can feel the beat in my throat. Jim might not be all peaches and cream, but someone felt it necessary to make him a target. Like Santoro made my father a target. If steam could escape out of my pores right now, I’d be a toxic cloud.

  “Problem?”

  I jerk and nearly spill my coffee again. “What? Uh, no. Sorry, just thinking. Were you dating anyone?” The words spurt from my mouth like water from an open fire hydrant.

  Crap. Why did I go there?

  “No, wasn’t with anyone.” Jim’s jaw clenches when his gaze returns to me, his head tilting sideways.

  I follow his unblinking gaze to fingers where I’ve been twirling my ring again. I tuck my hand under the laptop, biting my lower lip. A low growl rumbles from his chest and the bulging vein in his neck pulses like a racehorse’s hooves thundering down the final stretch. He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a swig, his gaze still glued to mine.

  “I’m looking for a job.” I smile and turn my laptop in his direction. The tension in the room hangs like a dense fog in a valley. My palms are sweaty. They’re never sweaty.

  “Oh.” There’s a slight crack in his voice and the inflection makes my thighs clench. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes until Jim takes a final gulp and sets the glass down with a decisive thunk. He drops his head and spins the glass around on the counter. “What kind of job you lookin’ for?”

  “Anything, at this point. I worked in marketing before, but no opportunities are listed in the field down here.”

  Jim lifts his head to meet my gaze and his neck cords as he continues to fidget with the empty glass. Something’s up. By now, the glass would’ve been put in the dishwasher. The man never leaves a thing out of place.

  His gaze moves to my laptop, which still faces him, and his lips turn into a frown. “Wheelie much?”

  My fingers clamp down onto the ceramic mug. Ugh, my background picture. Please don’t tell me he’s siding with Lyons. “Um, yeah. I used to stunt ride.”

  His gaze locks with mine.

  I tilt my head sideways. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I don’t stunt anymore.”

  A deep rattling sound startles both of us. Jim reaches across the island, grabbing his phone like a lifeline—a saving grace from the awkwardness in the room. His fingers peck at the screen and when he returns the device to the counter, the front door clicks open.

  Visitors.

  “Hey, fucker.” A husky voice echoes across the room a couple of seconds later. A bald man, dressed in athletic shorts and a sleeveless shirt, saunters in. Bear, right behind him, and a third guy. Bear turns toward me and grunts, dipping his chin, and I can’t help but smile at his wordless greeting.

  I nod in his direction. “Hi, Bear.”

  The other two snap their heads my way, ogling me. You’d think I was a celebrity, and not the good kind. The bald one quirks an eyebrow and his pupils dilate as his eyes scan over me. I swallow hard, uncomfortable by the attention.

  “Martinez.” Jim’s voice is deep and threatening.

  Martinez bows his head and walks away.

  “Taya.” My name escapes Jim’s mouth in a deep and direct tone. “We need the room.”

  My head shoots up in surprise, brows knitted together.

  Bear places his hands wide on the counter, leaning his weight forward toward Jim.

  Closing his eyes, Jim takes in a deep breath. His tone is much softer now. “You can’t be here. Work stuff.” He looks as though he’s about to combust, his body still tense.

  “Oh, ok. No problem.” I swing my legs to the floor to leave the comfort of the nook, relieved I don’t need to reveal my past to anyone.

  But there is a problem. A big, big problem.

  The house was empty when I woke up. And relaxing in the kitchen’s bay window nook with a warm cup of coffee and a small throw blanket seemed like a great way to start my morning. In the T-shirt I slept in. Without a bra. And in my underwear.

  Why didn’t I put on a pair of shorts? I’ll tell you why. Because I’m an idiot. An idiot who didn’t think maybe my husband might bring his friends over.

  I spring up, grab my laptop and the sandwich bag, and head to the sink. I keep my eyes focused forward, avoiding all four men, and place my mug in the sink. There’s no need to bend over to place it in the dishwasher. My feet scurry across the cool tile until I reach the landing of the stairs. I race up to my room.

  Although I do my best to avoid looking at Jim, the heat of his eyes on the back of my thighs will not go away anytime soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Jim

  I push my hips into the lower cabinets, hiding my hard-on. When Taya stood up, muscular legs bare, with a royal-blue T-shirt barely covering her solid round ass, heat sizzled up my spine. And then she pranced past all of us in purple underwear. My heart jackhammered and sent a shitload of blood rushing to my already semi-hard dick, thanks to her ogling me earlier.

  “That’s your new wife. Mind telling us how you got so lucky?” A few inches shorter than both Bear and me, Anthony Martinez is built like a linebacker. Wide shouldered and heavily muscled, he’s a man who’s used to getting his way. The bald, brown-eyed bastard is a ladies’ man at heart and a constant pain in my ass.

  “The assholes who make up the
committee thought we’d be a good fit. Something about her application must have stood out.” I spin the empty glass on the countertop, willing my erection to go down before these fuckers catch wind of it and harass me about it.

  Martinez shakes his head. “Let me guess. You didn’t bother asking what that ‘something’ was, did you?”

  Lucas Craiger unscrews the cap to his water bottle and takes a swig. He swallows and sets the plastic container down on the counter. “Dang. I thought you’d be able to put in a good word for me. I want a hottie with a body, too.”

  My fists ball tight as I glare in his direction. If he thinks he can talk about Taya like that in front of me, he has another thing coming.

  Craiger puts his hands up in defeat. “Hey, I’m just saying!”

  Martinez grunts in agreement. “Jim’s just being selfish.”

  “Shut up before I break your nose again.” I unclench my fists a little at a time, surprised by the lingering urge to plow them into my teammates’ faces. It isn’t that Martinez and Craiger are wrong. Taya’s ass is amazing. And the beauty of her curled up in my kitchen nook didn’t evade me. The way strands of brown hair cascaded around her face from the loose bun was so relaxed and comfortable. So natural. But their comments irritate me. Even though I was forced into this marriage, Taya isn’t some swipe-right booty call and I’ll put them on the ground before I allow them to treat her as such.

  I point a warning finger at Craiger and the younger man goes very still, a rabbit caught in the crosshairs of a rifle. “Say another word about her ass and I’m coming after you next.”

  Footsteps thud down the steps. Taya grabs her keys and helmet. “Heading to the library.” She turns on her heels and heads toward the front door, her ass sashaying in tight blue denim.

  My balls pull tight and my dick salutes her. Groaning, I take a moment to collect myself. “Hey, Taya. I, um . . . I’m making burgers for dinner.”

  Christ on a cracker, I sound like a moron.

  Taya turns, eyes darting around the room as she fidgets with her helmet, saying nothing for a handful of heartbeats. “I think I’ll grab something while I’m out.” She takes a couple of steps toward the door, then stops. “But thank you for offering to cook.”

  Taya leaves, the loud growl of her bike zooming through the mostly quiet neighborhood. My head dips, shaking side to side. God, that girl rides too fast.

  My attention turns back toward my friends, only to find white teeth appearing from behind Bear’s red beard, his lips turned upward into a wide smile. “How long before you two end up in bed?”

  Great, now my best friend has to push my buttons. My molars grind together, my blood pressure rising. “Not happening.”

  Bear kicks out a foot. “So, you’ve been standing in the same spot for the past twenty minutes why?”

  The three bust out laughing.

  I sigh and close my eyes, my head pounding. But the pain in my head distracts from the throbbing in my dick, and a moment later, I’m finally able to step away from the kitchen counter without causing myself any undue embarrassment.

  Bear sits by the window. In her spot. I bite back the urge to tell him to get up. “Not many are lucky enough to have Redding pull a favor like that.”

  “A favor?” I pace around my kitchen, my hands on the back of my head. Searing pain shoots through my temples and causes a wave of nausea to sweep through me.

  “Why are you complaining? I wouldn’t mind someone prancing around my place in her underwear.” Martinez just won’t shut up.

  My forearm shoots out and swipes across the counter, sending a slew of cooking utensils crashing to the ground. The metal clanking reverberates through the room. The noise matches the pounding that echoes inside my skull and for a second, I feel good.

  But only for a second.

  That’s how long it takes for me to realize I’ve done it again. I’ve lashed out without stopping to think first. I relax my hands and focus on the deep breathing the doctor suggested. Once I think I’ve regained control, I address Martinez. “It’s temporary, and once the required time has passed, I’ll file for the annulment and she’ll be gone and I’ll be back in the field.”

  Martinez leans closer, perfectly composed except for the pulsing vein in his neck. “I ain’t Lux. Not gonna run and tattle. You take your shit out on me—direct it at me—one more time, and I’ll put you into the ground.”

  “Don’t you ever mention his name in this house again.” The rage ignites for a second time. I inhale another deep breath, close to throwing a right hook at Martinez’s jaw. Lux can go fuck himself. He should have kept his mouth shut. We take care of one another, not snitch to brass. The team came home safe instead of being blown to bits by a bomb, and that’s all that matters.

  “You two shitheads, knock it off.” Bear crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t make me come over there.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m becoming more and more like my father. I shake my head and my shoulders slump. “Sorry.”

  I turn to rinse out the mug in the sink. It doesn’t ease the pressure in my head, but it gives me something to do to combat the restless energy coursing through my body.

  “You fill that prescription yet?” I must be in more pain than I thought if I missed Bear’s approach from the other side of the kitchen, though the big bastard can be eerily silent when he wants to be.

  I tense, the muscles in my shoulders growing tight as I dry the glass and replace it in the cabinet. “I don’t need any damn pills.”

  “Do you even know where the prescription is?”

  I turn, outraged. “Of course I do.”

  “So, you’re ignoring doctor’s orders for shits and giggles?” He quirks an eyebrow and I rankle at the challenge of it.

  Leaning back against the kitchen sink, I cross my arms over my chest as my teeth grind together. We’ve had this conversation more than once since my return home. Bear’s the only other person who knows about the headaches. “I don’t need them.”

  Bear is the picture of calm, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the top of the island. “You want to be stuck doing NUG training for good? Or be discharged?”

  My eyes narrow at his words. “What are you getting at?”

  “Forget the program and Taya, you think Redding is going to let you anywhere near action again if you aren’t cleared by the doctor?”

  I squeeze my eyelids close together. “Because of a few migraines?”

  “You willing to bet the rest of your career on it?” Bear straightens to his full height, his expression implacable and one brow raised high in challenge. “Cause that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  I let out a breath and close my eyes, consciously releasing the tension which worked its way through every muscle in my body. It doesn’t help. If the results from my physicals don’t come back squeaky-fucking clean, I would’ve joined the program for nothing.

  “Fine.” My concession isn’t graceful, but Bear grins. “I’ll fill the damn prescription.”

  “Awesome. I don’t have shit to do today. I’ll go with you. Where is it?”

  My eye twitches. Asshole.

  “It’s . . . in the guest room.” Before Taya moved in, I’d used the closet in the spare room for extra storage. While I’d cleared out most of my things, the prescription remained in the closet, filed with the rest of my medical information. Out of sight is out of mind, and I didn’t want to lay eyes on it again. It’s a literal sign of weakness.

  “Sweet. House tour.” Martinez sidles closer, Craiger following behind.

  “You’re not wandering through my house. This isn’t a fourth-grade field trip.”

  Craiger grins. “So, you’re going to leave me and Martinez here? In your messy-ass kitchen? We’re not cleaning up after your temper tantrum.”

  The two are pranksters, and by the time Bear and I get back, they may have tea bagged all my dishes. They’ve done worse over the years and I don’t have the patience to deal with their bul
lshit. Granted, the kitchen is already a mess thanks to my outburst, but there are worse things to come back to than a few spilled utensils. I might be their superior out in the field, but when it comes to civilian life, they are all too willing to prove just how big of a pain in the ass they can be. I frown at Bear. “Can’t you babysit?”

  “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound like it. “You might need help finding the thing.” He knows me well enough to keep the topic of our little disagreement to himself. I don’t plan on going back on my word, but I can’t blame Bear for being cautious since I have a reputation for being uncooperative when it comes to my health.

  “What thing?” Martinez, ever the nosy bastard, tosses an arm over my shoulders, and I shrug him loose almost immediately.

  “Let’s go.” I’d rather have them trail along than leave them to their own devices. Plus, Bear isn’t going to back down, and with Taya gone, this may be my only chance to get the prescription. So, I hurry and scoop up the utensils and place them back in the metal holder on the counter before we leave the kitchen.

  “Now, if you’ll look to your right you’ll see the master/guest/only fucking bathroom.” Bear points to the door midway down the hall, giving an impromptu tour as we head up the stairs toward Taya’s bedroom as if he’s a guide on a shuttlebus full of tourists.

  Craiger’s index finger taps his lips. “Whole lotta house for just one bathroom. Is there one hidden in the master bedroom?”

  Bear turns and barks a short laugh. “A two-bedroom, two-bath house in this neighborhood is much more expensive.”

  Martinez claps his palm on my shoulder. “Cheap bastard.”

  My fingernails dig into my thighs and I struggle not to blow out a frustrated breath of air. Patience has left the building. Sometimes their teasing just goes too far. “Was only me and Raychel. No need for an extra bathroom. It’s impractical, especially being gone eighty percent of the year.”