Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4

by Leah Braemel

  Like every other day, he kicked off his flip-flops as he walked straight to the wet sand. The first wave rushed over his feet. He dug his toes into the shifting sand and lowered the remaining shields around his inner eye. The fears and worries and dark emotions he’d absorbed in the last twenty-four hours flew through a blinding vortex to the forefront of his mind.

  The world misted.

  As closely connected as a man could get with the earth and the cleansing properties of the sea, he envisioned the darkness swirling in his mental vision being carried away. He compressed the destructive powers of the negativity and fears he inadvertently absorbed during a day until they were no larger than particles of sand.

  With his face lifted to the sky, he channeled his breathing down restorative paths. Using his mind, he expelled the gritty emotions from his body like sweat through his pores.

  Ms. Sebastian had been chatty the day before, almost too much so. The idea of sharing his morning communion with her had bothered him, similar to burning indigestion. But curiosity had won. And she hadn’t made a sound since stepping onto the beach. Her ability to stay silent surprised him. Pleased him.

  Visualizing tendrils of thread woven through the mist of his vision, he again sent his mind out in search of her. He wasn’t as interested in reading her as feeling how she reacted to the tranquility of the water. Empaths needed the cleansing powers of water. If she was empathic, the air would shift around her.

  Clouding the perception of peace in the perfect setting was the lingering impression she was conflicted or confused or fundamentally troubled. As she stood there, digging her toes in the sand as he had, she settled—fractionally. Seemed more content.

  “You’re edgy, Ms. Sebastian.”

  “In a place like this?” She cleared her throat. “Not possible.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Liar. He erected his barriers, waited for the world to return to a normal view, and turned to her. He skimmed his gaze over her body. His dick twitched and as sure as hell was hot, he knew he had to taste her again. With luck, the swim would calm him.

  His gut clenched with worry. He didn’t get aroused so easily.

  Hell, he’d dated several great women. They hadn’t been too dull or too ugly or too mundane. Nope. They simply hadn’t appealed to him on a sexual level. The lack of his attraction had contrasted so violently with theirs he’d thought something was wrong with him. The potential lack had led to the sexual line of questioning on the questionnaire.

  Logic dictated empaths would experience stronger connections with their chosen partners. He’d implemented the adult study to partially test his theory, but to also see how many adults had natural empathic abilities and unwittingly suppressed them.

  The connection he’d thought he should feel with women slammed into him with Ms. Sebastian. That bikini and the desire to glimpse the tattoo gracing the side of her precisely toned thigh had little to do with it. No, he was drawn to her on a more basic level.

  Her mind intrigued him.

  “So. Are we just here to swim?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to be with him now any more than she’d wanted to take his bait in the dressing room and accept the bikini. She’d given in on both counts. Admiring her apparent dedication, he yanked his shirt off.

  Her throat bobbed before she slipped the tie of the towel free and let it fall.

  Just like the moment she’d pulled open the dressing room door, he struggled to not swallow his tongue.

  The top half of the suit was nice. The bottom half, the part showing off her flat stomach and gently curved hips was more remarkable. Not quite as remarkable as the slamming urge to see her long legs wrapped around his waist.

  Her tattoo teased him. A majestic Phoenix, mid-flame, graced the top of her thigh and had him wondering why she’d chosen the famous bird.

  “Ready when you are.”

  Well-honed restraint held him in place when the horny-guy part of his brain screamed for action. Begging him to drag her to the ground and feel her body against his. Pleading with him to get her out of those tiny scraps of fabric.

  “When I’m finished with you this morning, you’ll wonder why you ever needed those artificial vitamins and enhancements to get you going.” He grabbed her hand, turned and ran for the water. He didn’t release her until the gentle waves hit him low on the chest. He pulled a huge gulp of air into his lungs and dove.

  Deep. Deeper. He swam straight down into the cooling depths. The compression of the water on his body minimized his stresses, and the sand-grit emotions he’d expelled were brushed away in a trail of flurries along with his arousal. He dove until his lungs began to ache with need for life-affirming air.

  Flipping, heels overhead, he changed direction and propelled his body upward. A flash of red caught his periphery just before he broke the surface.

  Gasping the oxygen into his lungs, he treaded water and watched Ms. Ava Sebastian. She’d shed her inhibitions and swam with a practiced experience. Her lean legs and powerful arms sliced through the water.

  She hadn’t exactly resisted him before, at least he didn’t think she intentionally blocked him, but neither had he gotten beyond her barriers. Barriers he wanted to understand. Were they self-erected?

  She flipped onto her back and changed to a backstroke. With each alternate path she changed her stroke. One on her stomach, one on her back. Stomach. Back. Stomach. Back. No wonder she was so toned.

  She moved with a skill that spoke of years spent swimming. Possibly competing. She certainly had the competitive spirit in her. He dropped a barrier, reached across the bouncing blue waves and probed gently into her mind.

  The more used to feeling him in her mind she became, the more quickly he would gain her trust. He needed her trust if he hoped to learn her secrets.

  Happiness as pure as a child gifted with a highly desired toy flooded through him. This woman loved the water, and she didn’t mind sharing it with him. In fact, she’d ostensibly forgotten he existed in the same space.

  Perhaps it was a little wicked, but he wanted to know how she would handle surprises. What happened to her guards when she got caught by surprise?

  He lowered his first mental barrier, grinned and dove below the surface. He slid through the water toward her, timed his attack and approached her from behind. Just as she prepared to turn so she would be on her stomach, he grabbed her waist and lunged deeper.

  Rather than fight or struggle, she fitted her back closely to his chest and synchronized her moves with his. Two kicks later, she curled her body and propelled herself upward. His hands slipped from her waist. The gliding contact of their bodies broke before he was fully able to register how she’d so fluidly and rapidly matched her moves to his.

  His heart slammed against his ribs as he broke the water a second time. His shields slid into place as the water cascaded off him. She was treading the bouncing water, waiting for him with a sexy smile. Her long hair floated around her shoulders and rhythmically moving arms.

  “Tell me, H. What part of your morning plans includes trying to drown a woman?”

  He cut through the water until he was close enough that his legs brushed hers as they kicked to stay afloat. After a few kicks they were moving again in unison, their bodies instantly matching the tempo of the other. Connecting.

  “I was curious to see your reaction.”

  “Curious to see if I would freak out.” She laughed—an illicitly lilting rhythm that danced along his spine. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’ve spent too much time in the water to be thrown by such amateurish moves.”

  “That sounds almost like a challenge.” He circled her.

  Rather than follow him, to command they maintain eye contact, she continued facing the horizon. He stopped behind her and allowed the grin teasing his mouth its freedom. “How far will you trust me out here?”

  “I have enough skill and stamina to save myself. Whatever games you play will have no impact on my safety.”

  He moved clos
er so the fronts of his legs brushed the backs of hers. The hard-on he’d banished before sprang back to life. If he moved any closer she would feel his desire. “Who says I’m referring to physical trust?”

  “No one. Were I in trouble, I would trust you to handle yourself well enough to help. In the water.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure.” Her arms drifted back and forth just beneath the water. “I watched you swim. I know how long you can hold your breath before surfacing for air. You’re competent.”

  Competent? Ha! She was challenging him.

  He moved closer and allowed his tented shorts to brush her ass. She shifted her legs. Surprisingly, she spun around and braced her hands on his shoulders.

  Habit had him wiping the grin off his face before she could see it. To the outside world he didn’t know how to have fun. She was part of the outside world, even in his sanctuary. Nothing could prepare him for her hands on his body or the lust filling her gaze.

  “I’m good in the water.”

  She drew out the word “good” and added a sexual inflection that had his dick jumping for attention. He reached through his barriers into her mind again, gently. He wouldn’t get a clear read, but she may feel him. Feel something. “How good?”

  “Better than you can imagine.”

  One tormented soldier. One woman. Eight snipers. Someone’s going down…

  Tactical Deception

  © 2012 J.L. Saint

  Silent Warriors, Book 2

  The fallout from the team’s failed mission to Lebanon is still chewing Lt. Col. Roger Weston’s butt. God help them all if the media get wind of the real story. Worse, guilt is eating him alive over a decision that left a fallen warrior’s wife without a husband…and exposed to danger from her radical family.

  No matter what, Mari Dalton’s safety and wellbeing—and that of her unborn child—come first.

  Mari is certain God is punishing her. She loved the man who rescued her from a windowless cell in Afghanistan, and never betrayed their marriage. But she has never been able to forget her body’s reaction to Roger. The pounding heart, the burning senses, sinful thoughts run wild.

  Now she is the target of terrorists bent on destroying the heart of America. As Roger lays his life on the line to protect her, they uncover a plot already in motion to assassinate the President. As the world teeters on the edge of chaos, any hope for a future rests in Roger’s already bloodstained hands…and the quietly faithful woman who holds his heart.

  Warning: Hot action and to die for heroes will leave you breathless.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Tactical Deception:

  His duty was to protect and to serve. Keeping Mari and her child as safe and as taken care of as if Neil himself was at her side was paramount.

  Before the guilt of Neil’s death could get another strangling hold on him, Roger marched to his bedroom door. He couldn’t effectively take care of Mari if she hid herself from him. Something had to change. He knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  He knocked harder.

  Still no answer. Worried now, he opened the door. “Mari?”

  Light from the bathroom highlighted her figure at the window. She stood minus her

  abaya and hijab—her black gown and headscarf. She wore a long tunic over slim pants, a vision of cream-colored silk and ebony hair that fell well below her waist. Gold leaves embroidered the collar, sleeves and hems of her outfit. The effect was delicate, exotic, almost ethereal.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she had her hands pressed to her abdomen, to the child growing within her.

  “Are you hurting? Is it the baby? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No. The baby is fine. No pain.”

  Relief had his blood rushing with dizzying force, leaving him almost light-headed and his chest tightened into a knot. Emotion, pain and desire, sucker punched him in the gut and below. What kind of low-bellied dick was he?

  The lowest, he decided. He couldn’t stop his heated arousal in response to her beauty, but he damn well could ignore it and remember with every shred of decency he had in him that if it wasn’t for him, Neil would be with Mari right now and none of the shit that had happened to her lately would have occurred.

  She stood frozen a moment then turned, reaching for her black gown.

  “Don’t. Please don’t hide from me.” His voice escaped in a harsh rasp.

  She paused, looking at him, her hand resting on her heavy gown. Her golden eyes were wide with…fear?

  He covered the distance between them.

  “Are you afraid of me?” Their gazes met and she lowered hers.

  He knew before he slid his thumb under her chin how soft her skin was. Just weeks ago, he’d lost his restraint and kissed her tear-dampened cheeks after Dugar had taken a shot at her outside the hospital. That night he’d held her bandaged hand as she’d restlessly slept between nightmares. And until helping her up from the street today, it was the last time he’d touched her.

  He clasped her hand resting on her gown and brought it to his chest, placing her palm firmly over his racing heart. Her gaze reconnected with his and he asked her again. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No,” she whispered before shutting her eyes and pulling her hand away.

  She said no, but he swore he saw fear swirling in her conflicted expression.

  “Why then? Why didn’t you tell me how bad things were for you? I could have helped or gotten you help. And why didn’t you tell me about the shooting lessons? I would have arranged for them. Made sure you were safe.”

  “You would have?” She blinked at him with surprise. “But you were adamant about me not leaving the post for any reason. Not even to go with Holly to the store in Fayetteville.”

  “Going to a shoe sale in a crowded mall is different than going to a gun range. Besides, learning to protect yourself is more important than buying shoes.” Roger raked his fingers through his hair. He remembered the conversation they’d had a few weeks back. And yeah, he’d been pretty strong in his objections about them going to the mall. But then, someone had been calling in bomb threats at that time too. It had been three weeks after Dugar’s attempts to kill her and Roger would have bet money Dugar was behind the threats. He hadn’t told Mari about any of it though. He hadn’t wanted her to worry. Only to heal.

  She frowned at him as if he’d grown horns. “What?” he asked. Had he said something wrong?

  “So what does that mean? I am not supposed to do something, but if it’s something you approve of then it is all right to do it?”

  Hell. She made him sound as if he were a bipolar prison guard. He counted to ten, hoping to ease his frustration, but it didn’t work. “No. Well, sometimes, maybe, yes. I mean—” Tension knotted his brow. What did he mean? Couldn’t she see the difference between the two outings? “We can discuss the details later. I just need to know why you couldn’t tell me about the anxiety you’re having and that you wanted to learn self-defense.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Roger opened his mouth then shut it. He’d kept things from her for the same reason, but this was different. She’d put herself in both physical and mental jeopardy. Then again, hadn’t he set himself as her prison guard as opposed to a bodyguard? Had he done anything personal to put her at ease enough to be able to share her anxiety with him? No, he’d let his guilt and his need to avoid his attraction to her keep her at a cold, formal distance.

  He had to change. “You can’t do that anymore. From now on, no matter what you want to do, just tell me and whether I like it or not, I will help you do it, okay? It is the only way I can assure your safety.”

  “That’s it? If I want to go buy shoes then you’ll take me?”

  He exhaled. “Yes. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to voice my opinion on whether it’s a smart thing to do or not. And if I really think something is too dangerous then I expect you to respect my serious concerns. This isn’t a forever state
of affairs. It’s just until Dugar is caught, then you’ll be your own woman, okay?”

  Her own woman? Did she even know who she was? Mari looked up at Roger, her heart racing so fast she could barely think. A few moments ago, she’d been staring out at the purple-red sunset, wondering how she could face Roger. She’d done exactly what he’d told her not to do and it had turned out so badly. She’d been sickened over how miserably she’d failed in establishing any shred of independence. Her worst fears about herself had come true. She’d had a total panicked meltdown. She’d been thrust back into the darkness of what had happened in Afghanistan. She’d hit the bottom and was surprised that she’d survived it all. Her pride was bruised, but she was okay.

  Now she was not only facing Roger but…she stood alone with him, in his bedroom, wearing only her tunic and pants and she wasn’t embarrassed or shamed. She wanted this familiarity between them.

  He wasn’t as mad as she thought he would be either.

  It wasn’t as if her choosing to leave the post didn’t matter. She could see that he was clearly upset and worried about her. But it wasn’t how she’d thought it would be. Her father would have—

  Roger wasn’t her father. Never would be. But he wasn’t the easygoing teddy bear Neil had been either. In some ways Roger was like a fierce warrior. Dangerous and remote. She’d seen the deadly anger in his eyes when it came to Dugar. She had no doubt that Roger would kill Dugar with his bare hands if he had to. She’d also seen a haunted darkness in him too. Roger had deep secrets that she instinctively knew he’d never let another person near.

  Neil had been different. There wasn’t a part of him he didn’t openly share with her. It wasn’t that he didn’t keep information from her. There were things about his job he couldn’t tell her and things she would never ask him. But his soul and heart had wrapped warmly around her as accepting and loving as a puppy. He’d never said anything to curtail what she did, but then, she’d never ventured beyond the strictures of her upbringing. It was two years before he could talk her into going to the store alone.