RULES OF LOVE (A Navy SEALs Romance)

by Bella Grant

  “Are you sure everyone’s been checked twice, sir?”

  “I did it myself, Sage, but I can always check again. Keep an eye on him. I’ll be in touch.”

  The phone clicked, and Eddie stared at the image of Beau moving around the back garden in perfect range of the cameras. She watched him maneuver his bag and set up what appeared to be his last camera before he walked towards the house. Before she left the office, she checked that her gun was tucked safely under her lower pant leg. Reinhart said no guns, but the game was changing and she was not going to be left behind.

  Beau strode inside as the first, towering, black storm clouds appeared in the west, moving steadily towards the house. The wind picked up, blowing his hair across his eyes as he set his duffel down by the back door. Naomi wasn’t on the first floor, so he assumed she must be up in her office. He flipped on lamps as he walked towards the stairs. The house was dark because of the clouds rolling in to hide the sun. A light came from a door on the second floor, along with music, loud almost to the point of blowing the speakers. He peered around the doorframe and the sight stilled his body.

  Naomi sat at her desk, her lips moving to the words of the song, typing while the rest of her moved with the rhythm of the music. She didn’t see him as she spun around in the chair and limped stiffly over to a file cabinet. When she spun around again, she noticed Beau leaning in the doorway with a smirk on his face, watching her every move intently. Her face reddened as she turned off the stereo and cleared her throat.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she muttered, running a hand through the hair falling onto her shoulders. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long at all,” he said with a wink and turned to leave.

  She called out his name. When he turned, she glared at him fiercely, but a playful twitch of the lips said she wasn’t too mad about it. “Liar,” she accused, her voice like silk, making Beau want to hear it again. “Make you a deal—you come in here and tell me how long you were watching me embarrass myself, and I might give you the plate of ribs I saved from lunch with baked beans on the side.”

  Out of a little microwave that sat on another table, she pulled a plate of BBQ, and Beau’s stomach grumbled, reminding him the last time he’d eaten was the night before.

  She passed the plate back and forth in front of him, and when he grabbed for it, she pulled it back, teasing him. Beau took a step forward, and her smile fell for just a second. He pretended not to notice and shrugged.

  “Long enough to know how well your hips would move doing other things,” he said huskily. He couldn’t get over the look on her face, though… Somewhere between wanting to laugh in his face and hitting him for his boldness.

  “Fine, here’s your damn food. Now, go eat somewhere else so I won’t feel inclined to deck you.”

  Beau took the plate and plopped down in a chair on the opposite side of the office. He dug into the food as Naomi glowered at him. With muttered curses, she sat back down and got to work. He watched her digging through files, typing who knew what on her computer, all the while trying to keep an eye on Beau.

  After about twenty minutes of feeling his eyes studying her, she shut down her laptop and grabbed her cane. Beau followed close behind as they climbed slowly up to the third floor. Rain battered the windows, and the wind howled around the corners of the old manor house. Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a crack of thunder, shaking the foundations as they topped the last stair.

  “Sounds pretty nasty out there,” Beau commented, frowning at the windows.

  “As long as the roof doesn’t leak again, we’ll be fine.” She reached the doorway to Beau’s room and hit her cane on the floor. “Bloody hell,” she muttered as she leaned into the room with Beau right behind her.

  Not only was there a puddle on the stone floor from the window leaking around the edges, but the ceiling was soaked through and appeared to be on the verge of bursting. As Naomi walked over to latch the window better, Beau’s eyes were trained on the ceiling as the wet spot steadily grew.

  “You don’t think that’s going to—”

  The ceiling gave way, and a torrent of water fell right in the middle of Beau’s bed. They both stared at it for a moment, watching as the plaster fell down from the ceiling. Their laughter was louder than the downpour on his bed. When the water had finally reduced to drips, Naomi shook her head, skirting around the bed back to the doorway.

  “Looks like you’re out a bed.”

  “I can bunk on the couch in the living room,” he shrugged. “Looked comfortable enough.”

  “It’s not bad,” she said, but the way her hand gripped the cane caused him to tilt his head.

  “I’ll still be close enough to you in case someone gets in,” he assured her.

  She smiled tightly. “Course. Though, I’m not worried about that.” She hesitated, her chest rising with her deep breathing, and Beau’s eyes shot to her breasts, to the way they pressed against the fabric of her shirt. Then he cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away. “There is a pullout bed in my room.”

  Beau froze. No. Say no, damn it! That is too close for comfort. You cannot sleep in the same room as this woman and expect to keep your hands to yourself. And do you really think she wants you that damn close?

  “It’s fine, really,” she rushed on, though her smile faltered around the edges. “You’ll need your sleep.”

  “Then I guess I’ll say yes,” he said and immediately wanted to kick himself for it.

  “Good. I’ll get you set you up for the night.”

  “Don’t you want something to catch the drips?” Beau asked as he followed her into her room.

  She shrugged. “That’s what the bed’s for. Take the cushions off that couch over by the windows. I’ll fetch you some blankets.”

  Beau did as he was told, deciding that the storm had set a chill in the room. He stoked a fire in the black stone fireplace. “You know, I could fix that tomorrow. I’m supposed to be a handyman, right?” he called out to Naomi. Anything to get him back in his room quicker. The tension between them was already growing so thick he could cut it.

  “If you truly feel the need, be my guest, but it’s going to be a bitch trying to get to that roof to fix it properly,” she replied as she limped back into the room, her arms full of quilts which she laid on the pullout. She plopped herself down on the thick, brown, rustic rug before the fire, holding out her hands to its warmth.

  Not sure why he did it, Beau sat down beside her, a distance between them. He could see the stiffening of her arm from his nearness. Did she really think he’d hurt her? He knew he was intimidating, but this was the first time a woman actually backed away from him. Usually, they were doing all they could to get into his arms.

  Beau glanced at his watch. Go figure—as soon as he landed a moment to talk to Naomi, he had to do another security check. “I’ll be back. Have to check the perimeter.” He left her sitting on the rug in front of the fire, the light playing against the smooth curves of her face and highlighting the scars on her arms.

  This was a bad idea and he knew it, but Beau couldn’t find the will to stop whatever they’d started.

  Eddie watched him leave, breathing a little easier and getting aggravated that she felt uncomfortable at all. His hands weren’t the ones which had hurt her. She needed to get over all of that, and fast. She needed to have a good head on her shoulders. This whole mission was about protecting him. Any entanglement whatsoever with him was out of the question. She hadn’t wanted him to be in her room, so close to her, but having him on the first floor meant she wouldn’t be able to get to him if something happened. If she was forced to deal with him in her bedroom to ensure he stayed close by, then so be it. It was bad enough that Ted tailed him wherever he was. If he woke up to find her sleeping in the armchair, his suspicions would be aroused.

  Reinhart explained to her before this all started if she couldn’t handle this mission i
n the field, it would be her last. There was no room for error, meaning there was no room for emotions or old memories to get in the way of this job.

  The fire crackled and popped, intermingling with the sound from the storm raging outside. The shutters banged against the stone house, but she hardly heard them. She shivered for no reason, wrapping her arms around herself, and tried to focus on the present. She’d been doing fine for so long, and suddenly, a floodgate burst. The dreams, the pain, the insecurity about what she could effectively do, all came back, hitting her again and again. The cocaine-dealing drug lord they assumed was after Beau had ties to several others she’d dealt with in the past, but they weren’t a threat, not anymore. So why the sudden clammy palms and nail-biting instincts that were telling her there was more to all of this?

  A blanket fell gently around her shoulders, startling her out of her thoughts. Beau stood behind her—stiff, his face set like stone, and his eyes cold and hard. She kind of liked them like that. It was almost like looking into a mirror. He sat down heavily beside her, his shoulder grazing hers. Eddie fought the urge to pull away, asking him instead if everything was safe and sound for the night, though she already knew it was.

  “Inside and out, though wet. Had to change… I think I dripped water all over the place.” His gaze darted to her knee. “Your leg okay tonight?”

  “Fine, though I could go for some food,” she said with a smile, holding her stomach as it grumbled loudly. Beau chuckled next to her. The sound was pleasant, and she wondered why he didn’t do it more often. He seemed surprised by his own laughter, and his brow furrowed.

  “I could go rustle up some grub from Shane,” Beau offered. “He was downstairs when I came in.”

  “Like I said before, you are here to protect me, not be my babysitter.”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t count that as babysitting. You need to eat, and so do I.” Eddie pointed to a basket sitting by the fireplace when he rose. He pulled it over and opened the flap, confused for a minute at the sight. “I take it you do this often?”

  “Everyone has a secret stash. They just don’t always admit it.”

  Her elbow nudged his, sending a jolt through her at the contact, and she quickly tensed and pulled away. If Beau noticed, he did a damn good job of hiding it from her. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey—half empty—a box of almond biscotti, and jar of cashews.

  “Interesting stash.”

  “What? A woman can’t have her whiskey?”

  “Never said that, though I’m not sure I should have a drink though.”

  She waved away his worry, knowing she shouldn’t either, but both of them could use it. “One drink will not push you over the edge. There’s glasses in there. Pour me some, would you?”

  His lips twitched and his eyes grew lighter at her command, but he did as she said and pulled out the two glasses, filling them half full before he handed her one. Eddie took it, watching him closely, tracing his sharp cheekbones and muscled neck and shoulders. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch him, to let her fingertips run along his stubble, but a larger part of her stopped her from doing just that at the last second, images flashing through her mind of a darker time. Eddie frowned and returned her gaze to the fire.

  After a few minutes of listening to the fire crackle and pop, Naomi pulled out a biscotti to nibble on as he did the same. The whiskey did its job of warming her and chasing away the worst of her restlessness—for the time being.

  “So, Navy, what should we toast to?” she asked to break the silence between them.

  Beau stopped mid-sip. “Not sure what we have to toast about at the moment. You not winding up dead?”

  Her lips thinned as his eyes darkened. “Fine then, here’s to hoping I don’t get killed.” Or you don’t get killed.

  “I can toast to that.”

  Eddie watched him closely as they clinked their glasses together. His hand strayed to hers on the rug, and she stiffened though her hand remained beneath his. She contented herself with taking larger gulps of the amber liquor and trying to ignore the fact that her heart pounded in her ears and her knee was starting to throb as memories crept to the surface. One glance at Beau’s eyes, though, and they stopped, so she stared into them deeply, hoping this new distraction would keep the memories at bay a while longer.

  It wasn’t just his eyes that held her gaze. His lips were enticing, and she caught herself licking her own in response… Until his eyes darted to her mouth, and he cleared his throat. She stopped and considered leaving the room before she did something else stupid. Or he did.

  His hand wrapped gently around hers on the rug, and Eddie’s breath caught as she tried to understand what was happening. He was attractive, there was no arguing that, and he was the first man in a long time who didn’t elicit a panic attack. Though his arrogance wasn’t present at the moment, she knew it was still there, a huge part of him and something she wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with. A man bossing her around, getting in her business for her own good. That was what they always did.

  That aside, she wasn’t sure what else could be wrong with him. He was the first man that had attracted her, and judging by the way he looked at her, the attraction was mutual. She’d felt it the first time they met, when his eyes gazed from her head to her toes and back again, that predatory glint in his eye revealing his desire to possess her.

  Her heart pounded so loud it deafened her for a moment. Beau leaned in closer, his eyes studying her face. She wanted to be a normal woman, share a moment like this with a man she found sexy, a man who flashed an ass she wanted to grab every time he walked away. But she couldn’t.

  Abruptly, she pulled away and stood up as quickly as she could.

  “I’m sorry, but I have paperwork I need to finish.” She grabbed her cane from the wall and limped out the door, taking her whiskey with her.

  Beau frowned as Naomi left. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking, but the fire and the storm drove all sense from his mind. Her lips would’ve held a bite from the whiskey, and he’d wanted nothing more than to cover them with his own. And more. He’d been fantasizing about those toned legs since he saw them under the fridge door, since he’d massaged her knee for her and felt the heat emanating from her.

  Not to mention the rest of her body, curvy and moving constantly. He bet her skin was soft to the touch and wondered briefly what she would look like without those jeans and tank top. He grunted and glared down at the half-erection pressing painfully against his fly. Now was not the time for this; he was ready to get this woman in bed. But she couldn’t be his focus, not like that. His mission was to keep her alive, not get laid. No matter how incredible he fantasized it would be.

  Cursing under his breath, he placed everything in the basket, his head spinning with all the questions he wanted to ask her, starting with why she flinched when he touched her, or why her eyes were so cold. Her eyes possessed a burning hate he could plainly see. Something had happened to her to give her that coldness, and it sure as hell wasn’t a damn car accident. If a man hurt her, caused her to act the way she did, he’d hunt him down after this mission and make sure the only way he could move would be with a high-powered wheelchair.

  Beau had spent only two days with Naomi so far, but something inside him told him he would never be able to let her go after this mission.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He’d arrived in France two hours ago, checked into his hotel room, and waited ever since for a phone call. His man was late, and being late meant being punished… Unless, of course, his report was good enough to buy him his life. The man checked his watch again, fiddling with the knife in his pocket.

  His cell vibrated in his coat and he whipped it out, his voice agitated. “You better have some damn good info or I’m sending one of my men after you.”

  After a pause on the other end, the same man from before spoke in whispers. “Your inside man is holding the information we need to find Savage. What do you want me to do?”
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br />   The man tried hard to control his rage. They’d lost sight of him once. He’d trusted his men to do their job and follow Savage, but they’d lost him, and now the answers he needed were being withheld. Unacceptable. He knew why he was holding out. Despite his claims of not caring, the man was being difficult for a reason.

  “You have four days to get the information from him or tell him the deal is off and you’re all dead.”

  He hung up and stared out over his balcony into the streets of France. The mark was so close, and he was anxious to carry out his revenge, the revenge he’d been waiting to exact for four long years. The man removed the knife from his pocket and threw it across the room into two pictures taped to the wall close together. Soon, he’d be able to aim at the subjects in the pictures.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She really is a restless sleeper. Wonder what’s bothering her. Beau sat up on the pullout couch, listening to Naomi toss and turn across the room.

  He awoke because of her mumbling and whimpering even though she was obviously still sound asleep. She quietened for a few minutes, and Beau assumed her dreams ended when a scream escaped her lips as she shot up in bed. She gasped for breath, and in the moonlight shining through the window, Beau could see sweat beading on her forehead. Her hands shook as she rubbed her face viciously. He rose and walked to her bed, but she held up a hand so he wouldn’t come any closer.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t push me away every time something happens. I hate to tell you, but I’m not leaving your side any time soon, so you might as well just tell me.”

  “Yes, I bloody well can,” she said too quickly, pushing the hair back from her face, trying to stop her hands from shaking by clasping them tightly in her lap. “It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, Navy.”

  “Do you have them often?”

  She stared at him, expressionless. He was in dangerous territory and he knew it. “Why do you ask? You a therapist?”