Grinch Reaper: Sleeper SEALs Book 8

by Donna Michaels

  But she moved with a confident grace that turned out to be sexier than those damn shoes.

  Drawing in the cool night air, he listened to the sound of the ocean rolling in behind their houses, assaulting the beach with a relentless caress. An amazing force of nature.

  Like the woman by his side.

  Letting her go, he opened the door and thought about her unwillingness to call tonight a date. In truth, she was right. It was work. Possibly dangerous work, which was the reason his Glock was safely tucked inside his ankle holster.

  Bella was with him.

  And, although he was slowly coming around to accepting the fact she was an agent of some sort, a very capable one, he would never lose his desire to protect her.

  Not happening. Ever.

  “Thank you,” she said, slipping into her seat.

  He waited until she was settled before shutting the door and heading to the driver’s side. Adrenaline started to kick up. He inhaled several deep breaths and got in.

  “Testing,” Brooke said, her voice surprisingly loud through the tiny device in his ear. “Can you hear me, Bella?”

  “Roger,” Bella answered next to him. “Loud and clear.”

  “And you, Reaper?”

  A smile tugged his lips. It was damn good to put that handle to use again. “Roger. Loud and clear,” he replied, too.

  “Ditto,” Brooke said. “Let’s roll.”

  The mansion was a twelve-minute drive from his house. Matteo knew, because he’d clocked it the day before when he’d done a little recon. Simpson’s place was more like a mini fortress, with high walls, and state of the art security. But Knight had insisted his hacker could get in, and link Brooke to the system. He trusted them both, but wished the op fell to just him. How or why Bella was involved, he couldn’t remember. It would be better if she wasn’t.

  For several reasons. First and foremost, her safety. Second, he was slightly worried there might be blatant evidence about Rasheed on the computers that Bella could see straight away.

  Instinct told him it was best to keep any knowledge of Rasheed from her. He knew he might have to lie to her, but he would if it meant saving lives.

  Didn’t mean he’d like it, though.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said, gaining his attention. “You okay?”

  He pushed his misgivings aside and smiled. “Of course. You?”

  “Peachy.”

  His smile grew. “I’d guess more of a juicy Granny Smith apple.”

  “Ah. Sweet with a bit of tang.” She nodded.

  “Exactly.”

  “And I would guess you were a prune.”

  He reeled back. “What?” A fucking prune? Soft laughter sounded in his ear, reminding him their conversations were no longer private tonight. “Why a prune?”

  “Because, you start out delicious, and even subjected to harshness, you persevere, reinvent yourself, get rid of the superfluous, until only the best remains.”

  Put like that, it was a high compliment, and the unexpectedness of it shocked him the most. He cleared his throat, truly at a loss as to how to respond.

  Christ, if the guys could see him now. Tongue-tied because a beautiful woman compared him to a fruit that cleans out your system.

  “Thanks,” he finally said. “I thought you were going to go the laxative route.”

  She snickered. “Well, there are times when you’re full of shit.”

  “There is that.” He laughed because it was true.

  Brooke burst out laughing in his ear. “Oh, my God. You two are too funny.”

  That’s when it dawned on him. Their whole damn prune conversation was recorded. He swallowed a curse and changed the subject. “So, is there anything I should know about this Simpson guy and his parties?”

  Bella sobered and shook her head. “I’ve seen him walking through the casino, but never met him.”

  “Were you at last year’s party?” he asked, as he drove over the bridge that connected Atlantic City to Brigantine.

  “Yes, but I also studied the layout Knight sent yesterday.”

  “So did I.” Before recon.

  “Then tonight should be a piece of cake,” she said, but he didn’t feel as confident.

  When he and his brothers were given a mission, they’d devised a plan, then practiced the hell out of it until every move became second nature. He and Bella hadn’t practiced a damn thing together.

  Kind of hard when she kept her distance.

  “All right. I’m going to hang back here and set up surveillance,” Brooke said. “But if you need backup, just say the code word taffy, and I’ll have your six.”

  “Roger,” he replied.

  Bella snickered. “Matteo has a soft spot for taffy.”

  “Is that right?” Amusement lightened Brooke’s tone.

  “Yeah. Vanilla.” Bella smirked.

  “I’ll keep it in mind should I ever need to bribe the Reaper,” Brooke said, smile still evident in her tone.

  He chuckled. “You do that. I prefer the shorter over the longer, but I’d never turn any down.”

  “How many boxes have you been through since you returned?” Bella asked.

  Damn woman knew him too well. “Three.” He slowed down as they neared the property. “Dig out the invitation. It’s showtime.”

  As they waited two deep in line at the security gate, he used the time to note only two guards at the gate, one on the second-floor balcony, and another at the north side of the mansion. Not a lot of security. He hoped they weren’t all inside.

  By the time they entered, checked Bella’s coat, and mingled with the others while pretending to enjoy the free-flowing flutes of champagne, Matteo pegged eight more security.

  “Nine,” he corrected with a grin, holding his flute up to a young couple waving from across the room. He recognized them from the shop. In fact, he recognized quite a few customers.

  “And my feed puts another four upstairs,” Brooke said. “Seventeen. Not an excessive total, considering the number of guests tonight exceeds one-fifty.”

  True. If Simpson was involved in something, Matteo didn’t get any vibes it was happening tonight. The mood was as festive as the lights and decorations adorning the walls, staircase, and tall Christmas trees scattered throughout the first floor. The atmosphere was bright and flashy and as commercialized at the holidays.

  January couldn’t get here soon enough.

  “Do you have a visual on Simpson yet?” Brooke asked.

  “No.” Bella sipped her drink and walked around with her arm through his. “But he’ll show. He likes to address the crowd and talk a good game. Which will be our best time to hit the office, because the crowd will gather near in the foyer as he talks from the balcony.”

  Matteo wished Bella had accepted his invitation to come over last night for supper, so they could’ve discussed all this. He preferred to plan, not improvise. But, he did enjoy a challenge. “The guards will be busy with the crowd.”

  She nodded. “We’ll be busy, too.”

  “Starting now.” He took her flute and set it on a nearby credenza. “Let’s dance.”

  Not giving her a chance to refuse, Matteo tugged Bella to the makeshift dance floor on the other side of the entrance, and pulled her into his arms. Surprisingly, Ms. Rebellious didn’t argue. In fact, she slid her arms around his neck and melted against him with a sweet sigh that shivered over his neck.

  Damn. Already on high alert with adrenaline, his body welcomed the friction of her soft curves pressing close while they slowly swayed to the music. He’d never felt so alive. It was crazy. Every brush, every sway, increased the heat and awareness running rampant through him.

  But of course, he could never seem to catch a break with Bella.

  The music ended, and Alan Simpson chose that fucking moment to appear on the balcony above. Swallowing disappointment down with a silent oath, he reluctantly released Bella, who blinked away the daze from her gaze.

  “As Reaper s
aid before, it’s showtime,” Brooke announced in their ears. “I’ve just looped the feed in the hall and office, and unlocked the office door. You’re good to go.”

  He grabbed Bella’s hand and pushed through the gathering guests in the pretense of wanting to get closer to hear their host. Stopping at the outskirts, he waited until security moved with the crowd, before slipping behind them down the hall and into the office.

  Following Bella inside, he closed the door. “How does it look out there, Brooke? Anyone notice?”

  “Nope. All clear. Carry on.”

  Bella already had her purse on the desk and the thumb drives in the laptop and desktop. “You’re sure security isn’t going to be alerted when I turned these on?”

  “Yes,” Brooke replied. “Don’t let the tiny size fool you. The device is more than a thumb drive. It’s some funky mojo magic thingy.”

  Matteo smiled. Now he knew why Bella and Brooke got on so well. They were both more tactical than technical.

  “Okay. Booting,” Bella announced. “How’s the hall?”

  “Clear. Trust me, I’ll tell you if it’s not,” Brooke stated. “And the actual security feed in the office is looped to show an empty office.”

  “And the speech?” He walked past a plush couch to the filing cabinet on the other side. Surprise washed through him when he tugged the top drawer opened with ease.

  “Still going strong,” Brooke replied.

  The next two drawers opened as well, but when Matteo tried the bottom one, it didn’t budge. “Bingo.”

  “Here.” Bella stopped rifling through the desk to hand him two hair pins from her hair.

  “Thanks.” He used them to pick the lock and open the drawer, before giving them back.

  At quick glance, nothing looked different than the other three drawers, but it had been locked for a reason. He snapped photos of all the name tabs, then removed the first few files to photograph the contents, when he spotted a manila envelope at the bottom of the drawer.

  His pulse quickened as he opened the flap and pulled out a passport and NJ driver’s license for one very bald, clean-cut middle-aged man name Robert Zimmerman. But Matteo recognized the bastard, even without his hair and full beard.

  Rasheed Al-Zahawi.

  With one eye on Bella, he quickly utilized the app Knight had loaded onto his phone to send the photos he took straight to a mainframe, instead of storing them on his phone. When he finished, he returned the IDs where he found them, then opened the files he’d removed earlier and photographed their contents.

  Again, nothing looked amiss, but he was hopeful Knight and his people would scour every line of every photo and find a damn clue to the time and method of Rasheed’s arrival.

  “Bella, how’s it going?” Brooke asked.

  “Desktop is almost done. Laptop is at eighty-seven percent,” she answered.

  “Matteo, you almost done with that drawer?”

  He pulled out the last few files and nodded. “Yeah.”

  If Brooke had noticed him with the IDs, the woman wisely remained silent. Matteo hated keeping secrets from Bella, but he didn’t want her messing with terrorists on her own. That’s exactly what she would do, too. Her little stunt the other night with Tariq and Kamal proved it.

  “Good, because the speech just ended,” Brooke informed. “Finish up and get out of there.”

  After snapping the last couple of photos, he shoved the files back, closed the drawer, then tugged to make sure it locked. “Done.”

  Straightening, he pocketed his phone and turned to find Bella powering down the laptop and shoving the tiny flash drive inside some kind of special compartment camouflaged in the sequins on her dress.

  She returned the laptop back to the corner of the desk and glanced at the other computer. “Desktop is at ninety-five percent,” she announced. “Ninety-six.”

  “Pull it,” Brooke ordered. “Security is doing a sweep of the rooms in the hall.”

  Bella shook her head. “No. I’ll get it. Just need another minute.”

  He stepped close, adrenaline kicking into overdrive. “It takes nearly that long to power down.”

  “Two doors away.”

  Matteo glanced around, looking for another exit, but there were no windows. Just the one door.

  “Ninety-nine.” Bella smiled. “One hundred.”

  “They’re next door,” Brooke informed.

  While he shut down the computer, Bella stashed the flash drive with the other in her dress, then pulled the pins from one side of her hair and ran her fingers through the brown waves. Keeping calm, he rounded the corner of the desk and met her in front.

  “They’re back in the hall, heading your way,” Brooke updated them.

  Shit. He went to push Bella behind him, but she stood firm.

  “Unbutton your shirt,” she told him.

  “What?” His heart rocked. Must’ve heard her wrong.

  Pushing the strap down on her dress, she blew out an impatient breath. “Never mind.”

  A second later, she grasped his shirt and ripped it open. Buttons were still flying in the air as she pulled him down on top of her on the couch.

  Then kissed him.

  “Incoming in five…four…”

  Matteo knew it. As sure as the blood pumping through his veins, he never doubted Bella was the one who ruled his heartbeat. Owned his soul. Made him whole. She was it for him, and just the briefest brush of her lips on his solidified everything. Confirmed what he’d known for years. She was the one.

  She was home.

  Hungry and eager, her mouth moved under his, demanding, giving, driving all thought, all worry—everything from his mind, until only need remained.

  Now that his mouth was on hers, nothing and no one was going to stop him from kissing the woman he’d desired for years. Moaning, she shifted under him, while her fingers…damn…her wicked fingers stroked his abs, sending a shaft of heat down his spine.

  So good.

  Cupping her head with one hand, he ran the other down the supple leg she wrapped around his hip, and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside her hot mouth, tasting, exploring, acquainting himself with her very essence. Her forbidden essence. The one he’d denied himself for more than a decade.

  Exquisite.

  The sound of a door creaking barely registered in his fogged brain.

  “Hey! You shouldn’t be in here.”

  But the hard tone penetrated, along with several snickers. Bella stiffened underneath him, and Matteo was secretly pleased he wasn’t the only one who’d momentarily forgotten about their mission.

  Hell, he’d forgotten everything once her lips brushed his…including to breathe.

  Drawing back, he inhaled and blinked in an attempt to bring the room back into focus. Christ. He knew kissing Bella was going to rock his world, he just hadn’t expected their first kiss to be recorded, or witnessed by a roomful of smirking thugs.

  “What are you two doing in here?” The only non-smirking thug glowered down at them.

  Using his dazed state to help them out, Matteo let his body take its time to switch into SEAL mode as he rolled off her and pulled them both to their feet. He did, however, keep Bella behind him, using his body to shield her from their view.

  Damn woman stepped next to him.

  “I…ah…think that was probably obvious,” she said, pulling the strap onto her shoulder before smoothing down her dress.

  With a blush flooding her face and grin tugging her lips, she managing to appear both wicked and innocent at the same time. Enthralled, the thugs licked their lips and gawked at her. Unfamiliar, primal urges rampaged through Matteo, and although he knew it helped their predicament to have the guards off-balance, no way would he stand there and let them fuck her with their eyes.

  Grinding his teeth, he curled his hands into fists, the muscles in his arms bunching under the pressure as he stepped forward.

  Chapter Nine

  The air around Bella heated and cr
ackled, and she knew without glancing at Matteo that the big, bad SEAL was about to pounce on the three men she was deliberately trying to entice so they could get the hell out of dodge.

  Reaching for his hand, she found it curled into a tight fist that shook. Not good. Normally, any man who had issues with other men looking at her, or talking to her, received a one-way boot to the curb. But this wasn’t just any man. It was Matteo. The only man she ever wanted to be with, to give everything to and take everything in return. He was once her world. The exception to everything and exceptional above all others.

  So, of course this possessiveness was an unexpected turn on.

  Some strange, warm, crazy emotion fluttered through her chest. For Matteo to be riled enough to blow their covers, and chance failing his mission, it meant one of two things. He was either stupid, or motivated by his deep feelings for her.

  Matteo Santarelli was far from stupid.

  Both terrified and thrilled by that knowledge, Bella stroked his hand to loosen his fist and entwined their fingers. “We were just looking for somewhere private,” she told the guards. “Isn’t that right, honey?” She left off the “buns” part.

  Barely.

  When he didn’t respond, and his attention remained on the guards, she squeezed his hand and swayed closer to brush against his arm. He blinked and glanced at her, his gaze softening with a smile. “That’s right, babe. I can never seem to get enough of you.” He released her hand to slip his arm around her shoulders and draw her into his side as his attention returned to the guards again. “Sorry, fellas. We just wanted a little bit of alone time and this was the only door unlocked.”

  The men immediately frowned.

  “Every door in this hall was locked,” one said.

  Bella shook her head. “Not this one. How else did we get in?”

  “How indeed?” Another narrowed his gaze. The one in charge. “If you’re telling the truth, you won’t mind if I check your purse.” He grabbed it from the desk where she’d tossed it earlier.

  Matteo stiffened. “Wait just a minute.”

  She played along, patting his arm—at least, she assumed he was acting. “It’s okay. They have a right to be concerned.”