SEAL's Technique Box Set (A Navy SEAL Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “Where to next?” Tugger asked quietly, his grip tight on the steering wheel of his truck. He’d insisted on driving while we hunted down Scott. The lights from the dash illuminated his tight jawline and furrowed brow.

  I’d grabbed Juliana’s phone from her house before we left, but it was locked. Since we didn’t know either Scott or Amber’s last names or addresses, we decided to try the local haunts first. We tried Rennie’s first, but he wasn’t there.

  “Penn’s,” I told Tugger, and with a squeal of his tires, he put pedal to the metal to get us there. I was infinitely grateful that he understood my urgency to get there. I thought that I would’ve throttled him if he tried driving slowly.

  But that was the thing about Tugger; we’d fought together on the front lines for long enough to operate with something of a hive mentality. No words required.

  Within minutes, we were pulling up outside of the cocktail bar. There weren’t many cars in the lot, and Tugger didn’t bother looking for a spot anyway. We jerked to a stop right outside of the main entrance and rushed inside.

  Tugger stuck close by my side, but since he didn’t know what either Scott or Amber looked like, we couldn’t divide and conquer. There were a few groups of people milling around, lounging on the couches and laughing together, but a quick scan of the area revealed that none of those people were the ones we were looking for.

  Moving deeper into the place, we came upon the bar where, lo and behold, a familiar brunette was seated by herself, staring into the middle distance as she nursed a cocktail. I jerked my head toward her. “Her. That’s Amber. Juliana’s former best friend who was fucking her ex-boyfriend. Doesn’t look like he’s here, but I think they’re probably still shacking up. She should know where he is and how to find him.”

  “Okay,” Tugger said, following me as I marched up to her.

  Amber’s eyes widened when she turned to find us standing shoulder to shoulder next to her. She flinched when she looked up at our faces. Tugger’s scowl was murderous, and I knew that mine matched his, if it didn’t surpass it.

  “You,” Amber breathed. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” I told her. She looked like shit. Dark smudges under her eyes weren’t hidden by the thick layer of makeup she’d painted on. She looked marginally thinner than she had the last time I’d seen her and her face was gaunt.

  Watery, reddened eyes fixed on mine. “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to tell me where your boyfriend is.” My voice was low, a dangerous edge to it.

  Amber winced slightly, but shook her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  I snorted and leaned forward. “I’m not here to debate the semantics of your relationship status with that asshole. I just need to find Scott, and you’re going to tell me how to do that.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she said shakily, but her nostrils flared.

  “You’re lying to me, Amber. I’m not in the mood to play games with you.”

  Tugger added, “I wouldn’t push him tonight. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that you’re flying high as a kite, so be a dear and tell us where this Scott is and we’ll leave you alone so you can carry on fucking up your life in peace.”

  “I don’t know where Scott is,” she swore. “I broke up with him.”

  “If you broke up with him, where did you get your drugs tonight?” I asked her.

  Amber shook her head. “I’m not—I quit it.”

  God, the girl was a terrible liar, and she was getting on my last nerve. We didn’t have time to interrogate her gently or work her up to it. I glanced at Tugger, “I’m a gentleman usually, aren’t I?”

  His lips kicked into a menacing smile, recognition of what I was doing sparking in his eyes. “Absolutely.”

  Amber’s eyes flickered between us, a deep line forming between her not-so-perfectly manicured brow.

  I nodded. “Well, that’s settled then. Amber, the thing is, I’ve asked you nicely. Twice, because I don’t enjoy threatening women. But I’m making an exception now. This is a small town and like my friend here said, it’s pretty damn obvious that you have a problem. So tell me where Scott is right now and I walk away. Keep feeding me bullshit, and I’ll personally make sure that news of your little addiction spreads like wildfire. If word gets out that you’re a junkie, what do you think that’ll do to your reputation?”

  “You wouldn’t,” she whimpered.

  Tugger lifted a dark brow and pursed his lips. “He would. Extenuating circumstances being what they are, he’s not fucking around tonight.”

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I raised it like I was about to take a picture of her and she buried her face in her hands. “He’s at my place.”

  “And where might that be?” Tugger asked.

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of her eyes, smudging her eye makeup without seeming to realize it. “I can’t—he—”

  “Did you forget the part where we’re not fucking around?” I asked her, seconds away from snapping.

  She sighed deeply and looked up at me like I was the bad guy in this scenario. “Twenty-Seven Church Street.”

  “Thank you,” Tugger said. Her phone was peeking out of the pocket of her jeans, and I swiped it, dropped it to the floor and crushed it under my boot before she even noticed I’d taken it.

  Her eyes grew huge as she gaped at the wreckage of her phone, indignation flashing in them when she met my eyes. “What was that for? I gave you my address.”

  “Yeah, but the second we turned our backs you were going to let him know we were on our way. Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

  We didn’t wait for her to answer my question. We’d gotten what we came for, and now I was going to get my damn girl back.

  Tugger floored it to the address Amber had given us, and we reached her small house in no time. Neither of us bothered knocking on the door; Tugger simply raised his boot and kicked the thinly veneered wooden thing open.

  We raced through it, directly into a living room where Scott was bent over a coffee table, in the middle of snorting a line. His head jerked up at the same time that we entered the room.

  “What the fuck?” he snapped, surprise quickly replaced by resentment in his glassy eyes.

  “Where’s Juliana?” I was done wasting time.

  His brow furrowed and his chest collapsed in a deep breath. “How the fuck am I supposed to know where she is?”

  Tugger and I circled him, his wary eyes darting between the two us as confusion set in. “What do you want with me?”

  “Told you. I want to know who has Juliana. She was taken from me, and I’m pretty sure that you know who did it.”

  “I don’t know a thing. Bitch kicked me out, in case you missed it,” he insisted.

  “Yeah, I know she did, but I don’t think you would’ve called up all the scumbags you deal with to tell them that she finally came to her fucking senses and dropped your useless ass.”

  Scott’s eyes narrowed, and he jumped to his feet. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”

  Tugger shrugged, drawing Scott’s attention to him. “I can see how you might think that, but I don’t give a flying fuck about your thoughts. Where is she?”

  We moved closer to him, both of us cracking our knuckles, and Scott finally seemed to realize that he was in trouble. Out of nowhere, his hand flew to his waistband and the fucker pulled a gun on me.

  I raised both my eyebrows, “Seriously, man? Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  In the moment of shock at my decided lack of fear, Scott’s head snapped back, and Tugger and I both sprang into action.

  I ducked and sidestepped faster than he could keep the gun trained on me while Tugger launched himself at Scott. In a matter of seconds, Tugger disarmed the idiot and passed the gun to me. I engaged the safety and let the magazine drop into my hand.

  “We used to be SEALs, asshole. You were never going to get the drop on us,” Tugger said, s
hoving Scott against the wall and letting his fist fly. It connected with the same spot where mine had landed a couple of weeks before and crunched again.

  “Fuuuuuuck,” Scott roared, struggling against Tugger’s hold on him. Blood was trickling from his mouth, and he tried to bring a hand up to swipe at it, but Tug held firm. I stalked closer, favoring him with my best death glare.

  “Tell us who the fuck has her, or your nose goes next.” I had zero problems with rearranging the guy’s face until he told me what I needed to know.

  A shrill scream sounded from the doorway, as Amber came stumbling into the room. “Stop!”

  I barely glanced at her, keeping my gaze trained on Scott. Tugger shoved at him with his forearm, crushing it up against his windpipe, his voice ominous. “Focus, Scott. Your little mistress can’t save you. Juliana. Who has her?”

  “Stop!” Amber yelled again, running over to claw at Tugger’s arm. He simply looked at her and rolled his eyes skyward.

  “I’ll tell you everything, just stop. Please,” she begged. I turned on her.

  “Scott stays right where he is until I’m satisfied that you’ve told me everything I need to know.”

  “I didn’t know Juliana was in trouble, okay?” she cried. I scoffed, but she ignored me. “Jeremiah Anton is our supplier. Scott owes him money, but we don’t have it. He’s been hiding out here for the last few days, but it’s not impossible that Jeremiah went to her house to look for Scott.”

  I’d suspected something of the sort, but her words still hit me like I’d looked both ways before crossing the street, only to be hit by an airplane. My heart jumped into my throat.

  Fuck. Juliana was in the clutches of some evil asshole. A drug dealer, just like May had been. Thoughts flew from my mind as fury coursed through my body. My vision both blurred and narrowed. I was losing it, and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop it.

  Tugger caught the unhinged look in my eye and gave one firm shake of his head. “Stay with me, Nelson. We’re going to get her. It’s not the same. This is a small-town pusher, not a cartel.”

  Of course, he knew exactly what I was thinking. His forearm jammed into Scott’s windpipe as Tugger trained his eyes on Amber.

  “I need a description. Now.” His tone didn’t leave space for any argument and Amber shrunk back under the intensity of it.

  “He’s 33, I think. He has dirty blond hair, in dreadlocks. Blue eyes. Average height.” She said it all with a trembling voice. “That’s all I know.”

  Tugger gave Scott a last shove and then we were out into the night. Finally, with a clue about who might have my Juliana. I wasn’t thinking straight, out of my mind with fear, anger, and I didn’t even know what else.

  “If we have to knock on every door in this town to find this asshole, we’re doing it,” I said.

  Tugger opened the door to his truck and slid inside. I followed. He turned to face me once we were both in the cab. “Stalking around in the night is one way of going about it. I have a better suggestion.”

  Chapter 32

  Juliana

  The sun was starting to rise beyond the grimy window, but I still didn’t know where I was. All I could see outside was the beginnings of what looked to be another cloudless summer day. My back and butt ached from being in the same position for so long, because, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good bed right there, Dreadlocks hadn’t come to untie me.

  My entire body felt sore and stiff, while my insides were burning up in a nauseating mixture of fury and fear. I’d rubbed my wrists raw trying to get free before I’d fallen into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.

  I remembered seeing a show once that showed how to loosen tape over your face. At the time, I wouldn’t in my wildest dreams have imagined I’d ever have to try it, but at some indeterminable hour in the morning, after what felt like an eternity of licking, and forcing my face into a smile again and again, I finally managed to get the tape loose and spat out the rag.

  Now that I could breathe easier again, I took a few deep gulps of air to calm my thoughts and kept working at the restraints on my arms. It took what felt like hours, but my wrists, raw as they were, definitely felt looser in their bonds.

  My left wrist could even turn. It hurt like hell, and I had to grind my teeth together to keep from crying out, but after a few more minutes of straining against the rope and rolling my wrist, I finally managed to tug it free.

  My arm was numb from having been bound in place and pain seared through my shoulder as I brought my wrist forward to survey the damage. It felt a lot worse than it looked. The skin had a red band running around it, with moisture seeping out where it was raw, but it wasn’t that bad. Stung like hell, but I would keep the limb.

  Ignoring my shoulder’s protests, I swung my free arm back until my fingertips grazed the rough rope that still bound my other arm. I dug my fails into the knot started on working it free. I didn’t know how long it took me, but I finally felt the knot give, and relief swept through my belly.

  The sun was a flaming ball sitting with its bottom on top of the horizon by the time I cradled my wrists in my hands, wincing when my fingers touched the red bits. I shook my arms out for a little while, nearly crying out in pain when the life started coming back to them in a searing assault of pins and needles that set my teeth on edge.

  Feeling returned to my fingers slowly, painfully, but finally, the pain retreated, and while my hands felt hot and swollen, I could move them properly. I wasted no time with the restraints around my ankles, clumsily tugging and pulling until they were both free.

  I would’ve fist-pumped the air, but I was far from free. Jogging in place after stretching out my legs, I wondered how I was going to get out of there. There were only two immediate options: out the door or out the window.

  Walking over to the window to assess its viability as a point of escape, I saw that I was on the second story of some old farmhouse. As Dreadlocks had promised, we were surrounded by miles of green farmland and tall trees. There wasn’t another house in sight.

  I wasn’t giving up hope, though. Step one had been getting out of my restraints; step two was getting out of this godforsaken room. I would have to make the rest up as I went along.

  Dreadlocks had shut the door behind him when he left, but I hadn’t heard it lock. I crept over to it, very, very slowly turning the knob. Holding my breath, I pulled back on it just enough to peek through the crack.

  Shit!

  The door opened right off a landing and a wide staircase with a living room below, where Dreadlocks and several other guys were milling around. My stomach grumbled at the sight of the cereal bowl resting on the lap of one of the men. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. All I’d had were a few sips of water that a man who looked as zonked as Dreadlocks came to feed me before I’d passed out.

  There was no way I was getting past them all without anyone noticing; they were spaced out, not blind. Closing the door with a soft click, I paced around the room, finally going back to the window. Second story or no, I was ready to risk the roof. I would find a way off of it or break something trying.

  The roof wasn’t high enough that the drop would kill me, surely. The lever to open the window was jammed and refused to budge for a couple of minutes, but I managed to spring it free eventually.

  All that was left to do now was to actually get the window open. I braced my hands flat on it and pushed softly, but nothing happened. Damn it. Placing my palms on the wooden frame, I pushed harder, but the window remained firmly shut.

  I took a deep, fortifying breath and returned my hands to frame, pushing with my palms at the stuck corner. It took all my strength, but it finally started to give. I was going to do it; I was going to get free.

  Creaaaaaak. The window complained when I pushed it all the way open. My blood froze in my veins, and my eyes snapped to the door. Seconds later, Dreadlocks came crashing through the door; his expression was of pure rage.

  “Where the fuck do y
ou think you’re going?” he snapped, his shoulders locked as he stalked forward. “How did you get free?”

  I barely managed to breathe, let alone scream or answer him. My muscles were bound in fear, and I was shaking like a leaf during a hurricane, but I knew that this was it. This was my one chance to fight. To break free.

  Dreadlocks yanked on my arm and tried to drag me back to my chair, but I dug my heels in and fought against him. “Let me go!”

  He sneered at me as I spun my body around, my elbow hitting him in the stomach. He grunted, but smiled evilly, tightening his hold on my arm. My wrist burned where his hand was closed over it, the raw skin throbbing under his touch.

  “Give it up, bitch. You’re not getting out of here until I’m good and ready to let you go.” He grunted, pulling me towards the chair.

  I jerked my wrist free and tried to push him away, but he barely stumbled backward before he launched himself at me again, his arms binding around my waist. I kicked out, one of my feet connecting with his shin.

  “Fuck!” he yelled, but it didn’t slow him down.

  My fingernails bit into my palms from the tightness of my fist, but I kept raining punches down on his shoulders, his back. I pulled his hair and tried to knee him in the balls, all the while yelling out. “Help! Please, somebody. Anybody! Heeeeeeeeelp!”

  He brought a hand up and clamped it over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up!”

  I tried to bite down on his fingers, but the exact same time, his fist jammed into my stomach, knocking the wind right out of me. I gulped for air and tried to clear my vision, but then he shoved me back into the chair and reached for the rag I’d spat out.

  He tried to jam it back into my mouth, but this time my teeth found purchase on his fingers, and I bit down. Hard. He roared in pain and raised his free hand to slap me across the face, cursing. “Fuck you, stupid fucking bitch!”

  My cheek stung, and my ears were ringing, heat blooming from where he’d connected with my skin. My eyes watered, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.