SEAL Protector (Brothers In Arms Book 2)

by Leslie North

  “More realistic,” he’d said, waving as she’d drifted farther and farther away.

  She may or may not have flipped him off.

  Mature? No. Satisfying? Oh hell yes.

  She didn’t even have her watch on, so she had no idea what time it was. Given the sun’s position low in the west and the lengthening shadows, however, it must be getting pretty close to sunset now. Which meant Mercy had been splashing around out here God knew how long. She was hungry, she was tired, and she was getting grumpier by the second.

  Hiking along the shore to keep up with her, Vann stopped periodically when she snagged on the rocks to prop open his lawn chair, kick back with a soda and watch her efforts. Mercy growled in frustration. If fury alone could power her rubber raft, she’d be back over there in two seconds flat. Something hard poked her in the butt from beneath the water and she shifted slightly to see a gnarled log floating by.

  Yes! If she could just reach it, Mercy could use it as a paddle to get to the side of the river. Carefully, so as not to capsize, she shifted her weight, and then reached out over the edge of the raft. Being vertically-challenged as she was, her fingertips grazed nothing but air.

  Well, shit.

  She tried again, this time scooting up on her knees to increase her arm span. Her fingers brushed the end of the log this time, but still she couldn’t quite grab it. Fed up, she got as close to the edge of the raft as she could and tried again, grumbling to herself the whole time.

  I’ll show him. I’ll show everyone. Don’t think I can save myself in this boat well….

  “Fuck!” She grabbed the end of the log at the same moment the raft tipped over, toppling Mercy into the river. She clawed her way to the surface and, gasping for air, clung to the measly log for dear life. Hair matted to her face and head, she did her best to see where she was while keeping a tight grip on her makeshift, wooden life preserver. Vann was so going to hear about this when she got back to shore. If she got back to shore….

  Those strong currents he’d warned her about rushed past her legs, threatening to pull her downstream. Thinking she could simply stand up, she panicked when water filled her mouth and nose causing her to gag and cough. Her feet slipping on the rocks in the water, she tumbled back into the water fighting to keep her head up only to get dragged farther and farther away from their camping spot.

  Oh, God. This was it. This time she was going to die. The first day at the rock wall, she’d overreacted, but now she really was in peril. Lifting her head as high as she could, she glanced over toward where she thought Vann should’ve been but saw no sign of him. She must’ve drifted farther away than she’d thought. Mercy’s strength gave out and she sank into deeper water. From down here, everything almost seemed serene, quiet, peaceful. Maybe drowning wouldn’t be that bad after all….

  Two strong arms yanked her from the dappled green depths and held her above the surface of the water, a steady stream of curses bombarding her water-clogged ears.

  “I swear to God, Mercy Conde, if you ever scare me like that again I will personally kick your ass from here to kingdom come. Do you have any idea how I felt watching you drown? Do you know how much I hate the water? Do you?”

  They reached the shore; Mercy tucked securely under Vann’s arm as he hauled her onto dry land then dumped her unceremoniously into his lawn chair. Coughing and wheezing, she curled into a tight ball, unable to keep her body from shuddering from cold and shock. Vann continued muttering to himself as he pulled a towel off the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders, his wet clothes plastered to his body and his long dark hair dripping down his back.

  Drowning your instructor had to be an automatic fail from the program, right? No way she’d pass now. The worst part was that she had been trying. She just wasn’t strong enough, and she was starting to think now, even with Vann’s one-on-one attention, maybe she never would be. Now that he’d seen how pathetic she was, he’d probably give up on her at last, she thought as hot tears scalded down her cheeks.

  Cursing, Vann picked her up and carried her back to their campsite. Minutes later, he set her down on a blanket by the fire pit then knelt atop it as he removed the wet towel and wrapped another thick towel around her. He kept her tight in his arms, his hands rubbing her arms and legs briskly.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his deep voice rough and his gaze averted.

  Mercy did a quick check of herself. Arms and legs working, fingers and toes intact, head still attached, brains still questionable. Still shaking uncontrollably, she managed to speak through her chattering teeth. “N-no. I-I d-don’t th-think s-s-so.”

  “Good.” His scowl darkened. “What the hell were you thinking out there, leaning over the side of the raft like that? We discussed even weight distribution.”

  Mercy managed to snort despite the chill. Yeah, sure. If you considered his shouted, ‘be sure you stay in the middle,’ a discussion. “You sound like my brothers. They were always harping on me about crap like that too. They’re the reason I hate the water so much, you know. They took me out on our family lake one day in the summer and just left me there to fend for myself.”

  The look in his obsidian-dark eyes grew positively murderous. “They didn’t.”

  “Oh, yeah. They did. That’s why, even though I can swim, I don’t. To me, water means abandonment.”

  “And you couldn’t have mentioned this to me earlier?” he growled, pulling her closer against him.

  Eventually, her chills subsided, though Vann continued to hold her close and she continued to let him, just because it felt so damned good. His woodsy pine scent drifted to her, now mixed with the distinct fragrance of wet clothes, and his intense warmth felt like heaven on earth.

  “Okay, suyeta?” he asked against the top of her head.

  “Yes,” she murmured against the skin at the base of his throat. Her eyelids felt so heavy and her head so drowsy. Would it be awful of her to fall asleep against him, just for a little while? Yeah, it probably would, given their current predicament. She forced her eyes to stay open, through great personal effort and whispered, “Thanks.”

  “For what?” he asked, pulling back slightly to stare down at her. His dark eyes were full of concern and his hair was slicked back from his face, highlighting his high cheekbones and smooth tanned skin, and damn if he wasn’t the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “For saving my life.” Mercy shivered again, this time from reasons that had nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with the thick desire for him sizzling through her veins.

  Vann’s gaze narrowed and he leaned slightly closer to her, his soft lips mere inches from hers, and for a crazy second she thought he might kiss her again, prayed that he would.

  “We need to get you out of these wet clothes,” he said, bending down to scoop her into his strong arms once more and carrying her into the tent. Seems while she’d been floating around out in the river, he’d managed to get their stuff set-up in here—his on one side, hers on the other.

  He set her down atop her sleeping bag then stepped back, crossing his arms. “Do you need help?”

  “Are you offering?” Mercy asked before she could stop herself. Okay, maybe the shock of her near-death experience was still short-circuiting her better judgment. Seeing as how she’d already dug her hole, might as well jump in with both feet. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened the other night?”

  “At Leila’s?”

  “At the cove.”

  After taking a slow deep breath, Vann stepped back toward the flap of the tent. “What happened between us was a mistake. A failed attempt on my part to build your confidence.”

  Yep. That hurt. Even though she’d known it wasn’t some grand, sweeping love affair, to have him say it so blatantly damned near gutted her. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and the sting of tears in her eyes. She would not cry in front of him. She wouldn’t. She’d already humiliated herself enough in front of this man. For
cing words past her constricted vocal cords, Mercy said, “Right.”

  Vann blinked down at her several times, his mouth opening then closing. Finally, he grunted. “Right. Get changed then meet me at the fire pit.”

  He left Mercy to stare after him, a noxious blend of sadness and self-recriminations bubbling inside her like toxic sludge. She should never have come here. It had been a mistake. One she planned to correct just as soon as she got back to civilization. But first, dry clothes.

  She pulled out the first things she found in her backpack and peeled off her wet clothes, using the towels Vann had wrapped around her to dry her skin. If she pressed the stupid thing to her face, she could still smell him there. Sighing, she tossed the towel aside and pulled on a pair of dry jeans and a clean white T-shirt. Her hiking boots would have to dry overnight, so she set them aside and grabbed her sneakers instead. Finally, she rung the excess water out of her hopelessly tangled red curls and twined them into a tight knot at the base of her neck, securing them with a hair band.

  Resigned to her fate, she left the tent and headed over to the fire pit where Vann sat with his back to her to lay her wet things out to dry.

  As he sat staring into the empty fire pit, all Vann could see in his mind was Mercy moving swiftly downstream, her flailing arms and the blue tint to her lips once he’d finally pulled her to safety.

  What the fuck had he been thinking, bringing her out here?

  Not only had his ill-advised wilderness adventure done nothing to boost her confidence, but his own was taking a nosedive as well.

  “Not sure if I’m doing this right or not,” Mercy said, crouching beside the fire pit to stack wood inside the pit, steepling the larger logs atop a pile of kindling below. Then she pulled a pack of matches from her jeans pocket and lit the kindling ablaze. “I think this is the way they did it on my glamping trip.”

  Vann blinked at the flames, growing brighter and stronger by the second. Not a bad fire. Not at all. “You did well.”

  She smiled, slow and tentative, before looking away. “Well, it’s about time I did something right while I’m here, huh?”

  He sighed. “What happened today was my fault, not yours.”

  Mercy didn’t argue, just shrugged. “Maybe, but it was only a matter of time.”

  “Time until what?”

  “Until I flunked out.” She sat back on her butt and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Don’t even try to deny it now. There’s no recovery from that.”

  “Maybe you could—”

  Holding up a hand to silence him, Mercy chuckled. “Stop. Seriously. Oddly, I’m okay with not passing. I was never really cut out to be an extreme sports gal anyway. I’ll have to figure out some other way to impress my parents into giving me the job.”

  “Really?” He sat back and frowned. “That sounds an awful lot like giving up to me.”

  “Not giving up. Being realistic.”

  “Hmm.” The sky above had turned a deeper blue, streaked with gold and hints of pink, as twilight drew near. This line of conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere good, so he switched topics. “You hungry?”

  “Starving,” she said and looked up at him at last. Dark shadows smudged the skin beneath her eyes and her skin was paler than usual. She looked as exhausted as he felt. Jumping in to save her today had taken a lot out of him, not physically but mentally.

  The guys always gave him shit about his dislike of all things aquatic. Yeah, he got it. Weird for a former Navy SEAL to have an aversion to water, but there you go. It wasn’t that he couldn’t swim; it was that he chose not to whenever possible. Dry, solid land was better in Vann’s opinion. Always had been, always would be.

  “Don’t ask me to cook though,” Mercy said.

  “Why not?” Vann asked, settling back in his chair. “Get too much of that at work?”

  “Nah. I can’t boil water without burning it.”

  He gave a stunned laugh. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me the daughter of world famous restauranteurs can’t cook?”

  “It’s a secret.” She held her finger to her lips, drawing his attention to their soft fullness despite his wishes to the contrary. Memories of how those lips had felt beneath his, kissing across his skin, trailing lower still to wrap around his stiff….

  Vann coughed to clear the sudden surge of lust clogging his throat. Jesus H. Christ. She’d asked him earlier about that night at the cove and he’d copped an excuse so he didn’t have to talk about it. Truth was, he didn’t want to discuss that night with her not because it hadn’t been good, but because it had. So damned good in fact, he couldn’t remember ever having better sex with any woman in his life. Even now, it blew his damned mind and that wasn’t good. He was supposed to be here with her to help her achieve her goals. Not to get into her pants again.

  “So,” she said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What do we have on the menu tonight?”

  Vann shook his head and pushed to his feet, striding over to the tent. He emerged moments later with a brown plastic bag. “Lucky for us, none of these require cooking of any kind.”

  He tossed her the bag of Navy-issue field ration packs and smiled. “I’ve got dibs on any Cheese Spread with Jalapenos in there.”

  She pulled out the tube and held it between her fingertips like it was toxic waste. Nose scrunched she handed it to him along with a packet of crackers. “No problem.”

  “You won’t be saying that once you discover how disgusting most of that stuff is. This cheese is the best thing.”

  “Great.” She pulled out a beige foil packet. “Ham omelet?”

  “More like lung in a bag.”

  Mercy gagged a little and shoved her hand back in the plastic bag. “Are you trying to make me throw up?”

  “Nope.” He grinned. Teasing her was fun. “Just being honest, suyeta. What else you got?”

  Jace had packed the rations for him, so he honestly had no idea what was in the bag. Knowing his best bud and his penchant for practical jokes, there could be just about anything.

  Next, Mercy pulled out a box of brownie, which she quickly hoarded before he could say a word. Fair enough, then another beige packet, a strawberry shake this time.

  “Any good?” she asked, holding it up for him to see.

  “Nothing like Scoops, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

  “Okay.” She pulled out another one. “How about this?”

  Corned Beef Hash. “Oh. Hell. No. Wouldn’t touch that mess with a ten-foot pole.”

  Mercy sighed and went searching again. “I’m running out of options here. How about Chili Mac?”

  “Better grab your shovel again.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause you’ll want to dig a poop-hole before eating it.”

  “Ah.” She shook her head and set the plastic bag aside. “Looks like a brownie dinner for me then.”

  He walked back to the tent and returned with a large bag of trail mix for them to share. “Rule number one of wilderness training; always keep your options open.”

  She scooped out a large handful. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  “No, Vann. But I appreciate the promotion.”

  They nibbled together for several minutes, the crackling fire keeping away the night chill. Vann broke down and shared his cheese and crackers with her and she gave him half her brownie for dessert.

  After their makeshift dinner, Vann leaned back in his chair and stared up at the stars while Mercy sat near the fire pit at his feet. “You aren’t quitting.”

  “I’m sorry?” she said, staring across the river. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. It sounded like you said I wasn’t quitting.”

  “Nope. You heard me right, suyeta.” He clasped his hands atop his full stomach. “It’s one thing to flunk out. It’s another to quit. You owe it to yourself to see this through to the end. No regrets.”

  She sighed and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Look, I appreciate your positive attitude and all, but this is my ch
oice. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  Vann felt many things when he looked at Mercy Conde—desire, determination, wariness, want—but that she was a waste of his time? Nope. “You’re not wasting my time, suyeta.”

  “So you keep telling me.” Mercy took a deep breath then stood. “Unless you’ve got a ten-mile hike planned this evening, I think I’ll go to bed. I’m beat.”

  He had actually planned to do some night-abduction scenarios with her, but given the trauma she’d suffered earlier, it could wait until tomorrow evening. He felt pretty beat himself. “That’s fine. Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mercy nodded, heading back into the tent. He stayed by the fire to give her some privacy. As the flames danced and flickered before him, his mind turned to the people who were watching the compound.

  He’d kept an eye out while they were hiking here earlier today and had spotted nothing amiss once they’d gotten beyond the borders of Brothers In Arms, which confirmed his suspicions that it was the business they were after, not the guys themselves.

  Still, something didn’t quite sit right about that either. If they were only looking to destroy the business’ reputation, why kidnap Mark? Sure, maybe Tim Rigsdale had delusions of grandeur, but still. It didn’t add up. And the SEAL deaths? Why murder them if you only wanted to destroy a security business?

  Vann took a stick and poked the logs of the fire to stir the flames higher. No. There was more to it. He sensed it in his gut. Images of Frank Sutton, sitting at the table at Scoops the other night, flashed in his mind. The guy had seemed even more squirrelly than usual. Vann hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy sitting with him, but the woman had been Kim Rigsdale.

  If they were still targeting the business for some reason, maybe he should be paying closer attention to Sutton.

  “Good night,” Mercy called to him from inside the tent before she doused the light.

  “Good night, suyeta,” he called while checking his phone. No calls from Jace, which was good. He checked the weather reports, sunny and warm again, as usual. He wondered how the rest of the class had gotten along today without him, wondered how Mark’s trip with Geneva was going. The two of them seemed really happy together, and Vann had to admit he’d been wrong. When Geneva had first appeared in Ortega, he’d been suspicious of her motives but Mark had never seemed happier than he was with her, and Vann had to admit he was a bit envious. His own parents had been married for more than thirty years and were still going strong.