SEAL Protector (Brothers In Arms Book 2)

by Leslie North

  So, he wouldn’t let that happen. Period. The end.

  And if saving his business meant refunding the tuition of one Mercy Conde because there was no way in hell she’d ever be able to complete their training course without injuring herself or someone else or, God forbid, worse, then so be it.

  Was he possibly overreacting? Maybe. Did he particularly care at this point? Nope.

  He stomped inside the office and ignored Mark and Jace’s questioning stares, heading instead straight to the corner where his desk was set up. They’d expanded quite a bit over the past three months thanks to the increase in popularity in their singular classes. It was easier to draw students in through shorter, compact classes that they could complete over a full weekend or two days mid-week; even if many of their early students were journalists eager for a story or morbid crime chasers hoping for a piece of the action. Money was money and no matter their reasons for taking any of their classes, the guys worked them hard and they left more confident and knowledgeable than when they first arrived. And it was damn good for business. Finishing the indoor training facility was just the first step. Except that, they were now saddled with debt that both motivated and terrified Vann. It had been a hard decision taking out the loans to build the training facility and the constant pressure from the bad PR was making the bank nervous. On top of that, their liability insurance rate had gone through the roof after Mark’s accident causing them to hemorrhage more money they didn’t have to spare.

  They continued to be busy. Enough that, Mark added desks for both Vann and Jace within his massive office, so they’d have some place to rest and regroup between classes and so far, it hadn’t been as awful as Vann had expected. Most of the time, he preferred to be out and about, roaming the forty acres of land they owned or observing the classes and new instructors they’d hired recently. But even Vann had to admit it was nice to have a desk and chair of his own to crash at when necessary.

  “What’s up, dude?” Jace asked from his spot against the opposite wall from Vann. “You look pissed.”

  “I am pissed.” Vann strode over to the file cabinet against the wall beside Mark’s desk and began rifling through the new student files. “That stupid kid we hired to run the rock walls almost caused a lawsuit this morning.”

  “What?” Mark looked up from his laptop screen, nose scrunched. “Kurt? Really? He came highly recommended.”

  “I don’t give a shit if he came with a personal endorsement from God, the guy’s a menace.”

  Jace snorted. “Tell us how you really feel, man.”

  Vann gave his buddy a sharp stare. “Good thing I was there or that new female student would’ve had a complete meltdown on the rock wall while Kurt was talking on the phone.”

  “Damn.” Mark sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I was hoping he’d work out too. I hate interviewing new people.”

  “Was it a personal call?” Jace asked, getting up and walking over to Vann’s area.

  “I don’t know,” Vann said, flipping through files. “What difference does it make?”

  “Well, if it wasn’t personal, then maybe it was a prospective student.”

  “I don’t care what it was. If it wasn’t a dire, life-threatening emergency, then he shouldn’t have taken it,” Vann growled. He honestly couldn’t say exactly why he was so upset. In truth, it was a mistake that could’ve happened to anyone, and yeah, maybe Kurt had been right and they did need to hire someone to watch the desk over at the training facility, but damn. Mercy had been white as a sheet when he’d pulled her down, all the color drained from her lovely, soft cheeks, the fear in her pretty blue eyes stark. He’d wanted to punch a hole clear through that damned rock wall and Kurt for scaring her like that. “It was negligence,” he gritted out, finally locating Mercy Conde’s file and pulling it out. “And we can’t afford any negligence right now.”

  “Was the student injured?” Mark asked, leaning forward, his tone concerned.

  Vann clenched his jaw. “No.”

  “So, what exactly happened?” Jace leaned against the edge of Vann’s desk, his arms crossed. “Must’ve been awful, considering how furious you are right now.”

  “It was,” he took a seat behind his desk and scowled down at Mercy’s file, “bad.”

  “Define bad,” Mark pressed.

  “She was dangling from her harness, petrified and alone, and someone should’ve been beside her to talk her through it.”

  “Shit. Poor thing.” Jace shook his head. “How far up?”

  Eyes squeezed shut, Vann remained silent.

  “How far?” Mark repeated.

  “The height doesn’t matter, okay? What matters is that it happened at all.”

  “Well, if it was near the top, then at least her harness would’ve kept her from falling, right?” Jace said.

  “It wasn’t near the top.” Vann squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, realizing more and more how ridiculous this whole thing sounded but in too deep now to back down. “It was closer to the bottom.”

  The guys exchanged a look.

  “How close?” Mark asked.

  Sighing, Vann stared up at the ceiling. If he didn’t tell them, they’d just bug the living shit out of him until he did… “Four feet.”

  “What?” Jace busted out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right dude?”

  “Does it look like I’m kidding?” Vann shouted, jumping to his feet. Cursing, he paced the length of the office, hoping to burn off some of the adrenaline scorching through his veins since he’d touched Mercy. “Look, I don’t care if she was swinging by her toes from the rafters. We can’t afford for her to go blabbing about her bad experience here to the press. Don’t you think Brothers In Arms has gotten enough bad publicity thanks to Tim Rigsdale? Jace, I know you’ve been doing a bang up job with all the online promotion and the single classes are currently bread and butter to us, but we’ve already lost two corporate accounts this month because of it.”

  Between chuckles, Jace held his stomach, his eyes watering from laughter. “Thanks for the props, dude but seriously. I can imagine the headline: Woman Rescued from Treacherous Four-Foot Fall. Call Geneva, Mark. There’s a hot new story in the making.”

  Mark snorted. “I would but she’s back in San Francisco this week for meetings and while you aren’t wrong, Vann, you are kind of blowing things out of proportion here.”

  “I’ll say,” Jace chimed in before doubling over laughing again.

  Vann glared visual daggers at his friends, and then stared out the window beside him. He couldn’t really blame Jace for laughing. Hell, he would’ve laughed himself if this whole situation didn’t scare him so much. They couldn’t afford an on-site accident with a student. Local law enforcement was their friend, but even the cops wouldn’t be able to prevent the feds from shutting down the compound if there was a serious complaint.

  Then there were the mysterious footprints he’d found earlier on his walkabout of the grounds. Usually he used those walks for his meditations, but not today. Today, he’d found footprints and tire tracks that didn’t belong to any of them or their vehicles.

  Being half-Cherokee, Vann came by his tracking abilities thanks to his father and he prided himself on always getting his suspect, but with so much going on right now, he was off his game. And that made him more nervous than he cared to admit.

  Mark’s chair squeaked as he leaned back and grinned, the brace on his injured left hand stark white against his tanned skin. “So what do you want to do? Fire Kurt?”

  Vann shook his head, his gaze locked on the door of the training facility and the view of Mercy through it. Much as he’d like to say yes to that question, Kurt wasn’t the problem. Not really. The problem was Mercy Conde and her lack of ability and confidence. His strange reaction to her didn’t help either. The minute he’d touched her, it was as if a jolt of electricity ran through him, short-circuiting his good sense, and urging him to do insane things like hold her close and k
iss her silly.

  It was wrong. It was unsettling.

  It was unacceptable.

  The sooner Mercy Conde was off the premises, the better. “No. I want to refund the student’s money and send her home.”

  “Who exactly is it?” Jace scrunched his nose and moved behind Vann’s desk to peer at the student file he’d pulled. “Oh. No. We can’t do that.”

  “What do you mean we can’t do that?” Vann asked. “It’s our business. We can turn people away from the classes for physical or mental unfitness. Says so right in the contract.”

  “Yeah, but trust me, you don’t want to do that here.” Jace straightened and glanced over at Mark. “It’s Mercy Conde.”

  “Oh, shit.” Mark rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, we can’t just send her home without giving her a fair shot. I worked my ass off to get that contract. Her company is a global giant in the restaurant industry. We do well with her; it could bring in millions in new business over the next few years.”

  “You guys didn’t see her in there. She’s completely incompetent, no stamina or fortitude whatsoever. She practically fainted on that rock wall.” He shook his head. “If I hadn’t happened upon her when I did, she would’ve gone into hysterics.”

  Jace bit his lips and nodded. “Just think of what a triumph it will be when she graduates.”

  “She won’t graduate.”

  “Ah, but I think she will,” Mark said, getting up and walking over to where Vann stood and smacking him on the shoulder. “She’ll be your greatest victory.”

  Vann scowled at his friend. “No, she won’t be my anything because I’m sending her home. Today.”

  “Last time I checked,” Jace said, “there were three partners in this firm. Takes a vote to kick a student out of the program. From the looks of things, you’re outnumbered, dude.”

  Shoulders slumped; Vann leaned back against the wall. “This is a bad, bad idea, guys. I’m telling you, there’s no way she can do the course. She’ll crack at the first sign of struggle.” “Come on, you were all gung-ho about taking her on when we first got her application. Give her one more shot, dude, that’s all we’re asking. If she still falls apart, then she’s out.” Jace walked over to flank Vann on the other side. “We’ve got your back too, dude. The three of us are a team, remember? You’re not in this alone.”

  Sighing, Vann rolled his eyes. “Enough with that shit. We might be in business together now, but as a SEAL, we were trained to go solo, remember? I’ll take charge of Mercy’s training, again, since that’s my job, but one sign she’s unsafe and I’m pulling her. No questions asked.”

  “No questions,” Mark and Jace said, hands up in surrender.

  “Fine.” Vann pushed away from the wall and stalked back to his desk. The clock on the wall said he still had about twenty minutes until Mercy’s next class, which he planned to observe. He also planned to learn as much about her as possible before then too. Sometimes the difference between a successful student and a failure was rapport. The more he knew about her, the better he could relate to her. At least in theory anyway. If he were honest with himself, he’d also admit that he didn’t look much past her photo the first time he reviewed her application. There was something about her that had caught his eye but now that she was here, it was more worry than attraction.

  He took his seat and studied the file before him, starting with their standard Q&A form each student filled out listing his or her goals and reasons for enrollment. It helped them better gear each program on an individual basis to suit every student’s strengths and weaknesses. According to her demographics sheet, she was twenty-five, from New Orleans, which explained her cute southern drawl, and had three older brothers. Well, if that didn’t toughen a girl up, he didn’t know what would. Her parents had started Queen Antoinette’s first restaurant in the French Quarter nearly thirty years ago and had since grown the business into a powerhouse of high dollar, haute cuisine eateries. Impressive. Mercy had graduated two years ago from Harvard with highest honors and had since played a major role in the family’s international pursuits. On paper, she was brilliant. In his arms, she’d felt small and vulnerable and far too soft and curvy for his good.

  Shit. This was getting him nowhere fast. He stood and put away the file before heading for the door again. “One more shot. If she can’t hack it, she’s out.”

  3

  “All right, class,” Vann said from the center of the large blue mat. Mercy stood near the perimeter along with nine other men and women who all looked way tougher than she felt. She’d expected Kurt to be teaching this class, but then at the last minute, Vann had taken over. Perfect. Because humiliating herself in front of the instructor wasn’t bad enough. Now, she’d do it in front of the owner and the man she couldn’t seem to stop being attracted too.

  “This is Self-Defense 101. If that’s not what’s on your agenda for this time slot, you’re in the wrong area.” Everyone pulled out their papers and looked to be sure while Vann assessed them with those soulful black eyes of his. She imagined what it would be like to see a spark of admiration in them for something she’d done, instead of that judgmental shadow in his gaze. He met her eyes, raising a challenging brow before looking away “If this is your assigned class, then be prepared. I expect one-hundred-percent from each and every one of you and won’t accept less. Passing this course is required to graduate from the program and receive your certificate. You’ll have to go through me to get there.” Vann caught Mercy’s gaze briefly. “Any questions?”

  Silence.

  Mercy swallowed hard, torn between running for the door and giving this pompous ass a piece of her mind. In the end, she remained in place, awaiting her fate.

  “Good. Take the partner next to you and face off. I want to see where you’re at, skills-wise.”

  She was at the end of the line, so she glanced to her right and smiled at the middle-aged Hispanic guy beside her.

  “Hey, Hector Ramirez,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Mercy Conde,” she said, noting his firm grip.

  They moved out toward the middle of the mat and stood facing each other. Hector was about six inches taller than she was and a bit chubby. For a moment, Mercy thought she might actually stand a fighting chance against the guy, but then he moved swiftly and grabbed her from behind. Given their height and weight difference and the way he’d trapped her arms at her sides, she couldn’t break free from his grip.

  At least Vann wasn’t likely to see her ultimate defeat from where he was, Mercy thought absently as Hector released his chokehold on her neck. Okay, then. Time to get serious. Flunking out wasn’t an option and Vann’s words from earlier still rang through her head on endless loop.

  One more chance, but that’s it….

  If she had a nickel for every time she’d heard that phrase in her life, she’d be a rich woman. Well, richer than she already was. Not her, exactly, but her family. One didn’t own the largest haute cuisine restaurant chain in the world and not have major bank. Mercy had worked hard for her money though, made sacrifices—such as any form of personal or romantic life.

  Hector squared off across from her again and smiled. “You come at me this time.”

  Great. She nodded then sized him up. Instinct said to go for the groin, but that wouldn’t be seemly and she didn’t want to hurt the guy to prove she was capable enough to stay here. What was that other thing she’d heard in a movie one time? Song? No. Sing. Yep that was it. An acronym for stomach, instep, nose, groin. Right. Okay. She and Hector circled each other, like a pair of wonky square dancers. She narrowed her gaze on his toes and took a deep breath before going in. Maybe she should warn him first so he could prepare himself. No, that was silly. Who warned their attacker before retaliating? Maybe….

  “Are you going to dance with him or fight him, Miss Conde?” Vann said from behind her.

  Hector snorted and Vann gave her a flat stare and all Mercy wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She was b
lowing this, big time. Get it together, chère.

  She’d graduated top of her class from Harvard, battled tycoons and Wall Street big wigs to negotiate the best deals for her family’s company. Surely, she could handle taking down one middle-aged business guy. Mercy gave Vann a quick side-eyed glance then went for it.

  Watch this Mr. High and Mighty.

  Except when she charged Hector head on, he anticipated her moves and easily blocked her with his superior height and weight. Instead of pummeling his stomach followed by a crushing blow to his instep, Mercy bounced off his arm and side before tumbling to her butt on the floor, her petite frame aching.

  Yeah, that didn’t go as planned. Not at all.

  “You can’t attack head on like that. You’re too small.” Vann extended a hand down to help her up.

  She eyed his hand like a live grenade. She’d expected more derision and maybe a hint of triumph from him at her failure. But kindness and advice?

  Vann lifted that dark brow of his again. “Do you prefer looking at the world from down there?”

  His snarky remark was enough to get her ire going and motivate her to stand, on her own thanks so much. “What I’d prefer, Mr. Highrider, is to graduate from this course so I can move on with my life.”

  “To do that, you’ve got to pass my class.”

  No shit. She crossed her arms and faced him directly. She might be less than stellar in the defensive tactics department, but she made up for it in negotiation skills. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”

  “Gladly.” Vann stepped around her and took poor Hector down before the guy knew what hit him. “See?”

  What she saw was his rippling muscles as he held a squirming Hector on the floor. The graceful way he moved, the casual ease with which he handled his opponent. All of it made her pulse quicken and molten heat pool in her core.

  Not helpful. Not at all. Mercy shook her head. “Do it again, slower this time. You’re a lot bigger than I am, so I’m not sure how I’d make this work.”