Hot SEALs: SEALed Fate (Kindle Worlds) (Deep Six Security #0)

by Becky McGraw

  “We have to get a shower or I’m going to be late,” she said, letting her words hang, hoping the invitation she was issuing was clear.

  “Stay right there a minute—I have a present for you,” he said with a grin, as he rolled off the bed and hustled into the black cargo pants he found over by the dresser.

  He’d gotten her a gift? The thought had those bubbles forming near her heart again, as she watched him stride to the bedroom door. His back muscles tensed, his hand fell away from the doorknob and he cursed as he turned back to walk to the window.

  “They’ll probably see me now, but I’m going out the back way anyway.” Jax unlocked the window and pushed it up, then threw one leg over the sill.

  “Who?” Fallon asked, her heart skipping a beat.

  “Rick and Chris—hell, everyone in the house. I came in this way to save you being embarrassed by me being in here and having to explain to the Greenwoods.”

  “You climbed the house for me?” Fallon asked, her insides melting, but then questions flooded her mind. “How did you do that anyway? I looked out that window last night when I made sure it was locked. It’s a straight drop to the ground.”

  Jaxson grinned. “Skills, babycakes,” he replied with a sexy wink, before he rolled and disappeared through the window.

  Fallon ran over to the window to see what his secret was, but by the time she got to there and looked out, he was on the ground running around the back of the house. The man was like a freaking sexy badass ninja, she thought with a laugh. He appeared like a poof of smoke, and disappeared just as easily. When the implications of that thought settled in her mind, sadness quickly followed. Fallon slapped the alarm clock to turn it off and padded toward the ensuite bathroom, but she stopped.

  Stay here a minute. Being an independent woman who made her own decisions evidently extend to orders issued to her by Jaxson Thomas, Fallon thought, as she sat on the dressing bench to wait for him. No, it didn’t extend to a woman was head over heels in love with the man who issued the orders. If he asked, Fallon would wait for him forever.

  And wasn’t that just pathetic?

  But she didn’t have to wait long. After raised voices echoed down the hall, Jax busted through the bedroom door with a grumbled fuck you for whomever he was talking to in the hallway and slammed it behind him. Face red, breathing short and sharp Jax finally looked at her and forced a smile. “I guess we were a little bit loud last night, so the jig’s up—at least where Rick is concerned. He just informed me that he knows exactly what we were doing in here last night, so I’m not fooling anyone. He says he hasn’t slept in a month because his sister and Chris are just as loud when they have wild monkey sex.”

  A giggle bubbled in her throat and Fallon laughed at that description as she stood to walk over to him, shivering as his heated eyes raked her nakedness. She put her hand on his chest and craned her neck to look up at him. “I think wild SEAL sex would be a better description, don’t you?” she asked with a grin.

  Jax’s arm snaked around her back and he growled as his mouth met hers in a needy kiss, and things ramped up fast, but Fallon pushed him away. “Where’s my present? We need to get in the shower,” she said, breathlessly.

  Jaxson’s blue eyes turned to liquid silver, as he lifted his hand to hold out a bulky black vest. “I made the guys stop at the surplus store last night so I could get you a good one, the best on the market right now. I wanted you to have one your size so it fits right.”

  “What is it?” Fallon asked, taking it from him to look at all the Velcro lined pockets.

  “It’s body armor,” he explained, his face serious. “I want it on you every time you step outside this house, you got that? I don’t care how damned ugly you think it is.”

  God, she loved it when he said, you got that, in that growly voice. Fallon tossed the vest on the dressing bench and took his hand. “And I want you in the shower. You got that?” she asked with a laugh as she towed him behind her to the bathroom.

  Jaxson Thomas might not know it, but the trouble he went to for that vest said that he more than cared about her too, she thought smugly, as she pulled him into the bathroom. Shutting the door, she pushed him into it then tiptoed to smother his mouth with hers.

  ***

  Two hours later, Jax knelt at the foot of the stairs to check his go bag for the third time while he waited for Fallon, who was still getting ready. He wanted to bring every damned weapon he owned with him, but he knew he had to scale it down so he didn’t scare the people at the courthouse into thinking they might be under attack by a foreign army.

  His modified MP5N fit perfectly inside the smaller bag and it wouldn’t attract attention. His Sig 226 .40 which he could fire accurately in his sleep, and had many times, was in his shoulder holster which he planned to hide under the damned sports coat he’d worn to dinner last night. Rounding out his firepower was his smaller caliber 9mm hold gun in the ankle holster under his slacks.

  Jax wanted to be as inconspicuous and deadly as possible when he escorted Fallon into that courthouse. That’s why he’d also chosen to wear khakis and a polo, instead of the black tactical gear that Chris and Rick wore this morning. He had on a thin, lightweight vest under the polo, and it would slow a bullet down, but depending on the caliber fired, it may not stop it. Chris and Rick had the heavier vests on and the bigger sniper weapons with scopes, which they’d set up with on the buildings they’d chosen last night as the best surveillance points.

  Huffing a breath, Jax zipped up his bag again and stood. They were as prepared as they could be for the urban war they may have to fight with this unknown enemy. It wasn’t like this was their first time fighting in an urban setting. In Baghdad and the provinces the team had become used to spotting tangos, even in the middle of a throng of civilians, but this was different.

  At the courthouse in downtown DC every tango would be trying to blend in just like Jax was doing, and it would be much easier for them to do that than it was for the insurgents in the sandbox. The mostly untrained and unsophisticated fighters had tells that gave them away--bulky older weapons or crude bombs that showed under their much too loosely fitting robes and nervous or frightened expressions when they saw the squad.

  The tangos they faced today were more sophisticated. They would have access to better, more concealable weapons and would be dressed like every other person in that building. It would be like spotting a nondescript gray sedan in a parking lot filled with them. The tangos today wouldn’t show their hands until a gun was in it and they were firing at Fallon.

  That’s what scared the shit out of him.

  But then he remembered the clowns who took potshots in Fallon’s front yard and relaxed a little. Those goons were not the sharpest tools in the shed, definitely not sharpshooters or weapons experts, and they certainly hadn’t worried then about people seeing them. Rick, Chris and Jax were trained warriors, experts at taking out clowns.

  Hopefully, his conversation with the FBI this morning to get back door clearance into the facility would result in him worrying for nothing. If the man didn’t catch Jax’s thinly-veiled hint at the end of their conversation that James Sharpe might be better suited to hearing the case to aid in their investigative efforts then the agent must be as thick-headed as those goons.

  His efforts to convince Fallon earlier sure hadn’t worked, she’d turned the tables on him. Fallon would be pissed to be removed from the case, but Jax didn’t care. If the FBI, or whoever assigned cases removed her at the agency’s request, Jax could find somewhere to hide her out of the city until this was over. That would be the ideal outcome today in his mind.

  Jax started pacing again between the stairway and the wide entry, going over the game plan in his head again, making damned sure he had it committed to memory. Despite the amazing shower sex he’d had with her an hour ago, Jax was more amped up than he’d ever been on a team mission. Those ants were back under his skin, and that hole in his stomach was a cavern now.

 
But by the time Fallon came down, Jax was determined to have his game face on so she didn’t see his fear. He made two more circuits between the stairs and the foyer, then Rick and Chris came through the front door.

  Walking up to him, Chris said, “Van’s ready and packed.”

  “Route’s clear, but it’s rush hour so the traffic is a little heavier. We need to adjust by four minutes so we’re wheels up at 0942,” Rick informed, clicking his timer on his watch.

  His teammates were in full operations mode, and Jax needed to get there too.

  Chris and Rick’s eyes shot up to the top of the stairs and both let out low-pitched whistles. Jax spun, his eyes locked on Fallon at the top of the stairs and his breath left him.

  The black mini-skirt hit her mid-thigh showing off her long, long legs, which Jax was intimately familiar with. Her perfectly tailored matching jacket nipped in at her waist making her figure a perfect hourglass, and the royal blue silk shirt underneath lit up peach-tinged complexion and lightly-made-up topaz eyes like a spotlight. That perfection was framed by her shiny auburn hair, which was pulled back into a neat bun at the back of her head. But what drew Jax’s eyes was the four-inch crimson red come-fuck-me heels on her feet as she took careful steps down each stair tread. Tonight, he would answer that call, and she would be wearing those heels when he fucked her, but right then he had other things to think about.

  Like the fact she wasn’t wearing the vest he’d given her.

  “Where’s your vest?” Jax demanded, moving to the first stair to block her exit.

  Fallon’s eyes widened and she wrinkled her nose, but with a sigh spun on the stairs. The guys whistled again, and Jax growled at them over his shoulder.

  “Just get her in the van and I’ll get it,” he said sharply, glaring at her as he shot past her to hustle up the stairs. Fallon Sharpe was going to wear that damned thing if he had to glue it on her beautiful body.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Fallon breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Jaxson and she was inside the federal courthouse. He pushed her with his hand at the small of her back, and she walked down the long hallway toward the door to her chambers at the end. After they’d passed three thick-necked, stiff-backed and stone-faced guys in nondescript black suits with wires hanging out of their ears who wouldn’t make eye contact, Fallon asked, “Is the men-in-black convention being held here today? Did I miss the memo?”

  Jaxson didn’t laugh. “I asked the FBI agent I spoke with this morning for additional coverage inside the building.”

  “Good to know,” she said, blowing out a breath that did nothing to settle her nerves. Jaxson was so damned serious and uptight he was making her nervous. But not nearly as nervous as seeing the huge weapons Chris and Rick grabbed when Jaxson stopped the black armored van they rode in a few blocks from the courthouse to let them out. They looked ready for a war, acted as if one was imminent, and Fallon was more scared than she’d ever been during this whole ordeal.

  She reached the door to her chambers, turned the knob and walked inside. The leather and wood scent comforted her, as did the soft feel of her wool robe as she slid into it. She didn’t have to remove her suit jacket, because she hadn’t been able to fit it on again over the bulky vest that Jaxson made her put on inside the van. She also didn’t try to remove it, because she knew he wasn’t going to let her. Her comfort was not his concern, her safety was. That is what Jaxson told her very quickly when she griped about how uncomfortable the body armor was.

  When she turned to go to her desk, he was right there blocking her. “Would you please give me a little breathing room?” she asked, pushing against his chest.

  “I want you to remain breathing so I’m your shadow, babycakes.”

  Fallon spun at the corner of her desk to put her hands on her hips. “Do not call me—” she started, but her door opened and her baliff’s shoulders filled the doorway from jamb to jamb.

  Lawrence Bolton, the giant chocolate teddy bear who’d worked with her for two years smiled. “Looks like we have the day off today, Judge Sharpe. The clerk just notified me that your trial today has been canceled.”

  “Canceled?” Fallon repeated, the hair at the back of her neck raising along with her anger. She was about tired of the yo-yo game that shouldn’t be happening with a regular case that had been impartially assigned to her bench. There was zero reason for them to recuse her involuntarily.

  “Yes, ma’am. She said something about a meeting of judges to talk about the case,” he replied with a shrug, before he backed out of the office and closed the door.

  Well, this judge hadn’t been notified of that meeting, and Fallon was going to find out why from the horse’s mouth. The chief judge owed her explanations, or the en banc panel he’d assembled did more likely. Moving back around her desk, Fallon flew past Jaxson to reach for the doorknob but he grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s just leave. This is for the best,” he said gruffly.

  For the best? Tingles pricked at the base of her neck as Fallon spun to stare into Jaxson’s eyes, speechless. Then her mind clicked through other things he’d said to her just this morning that left her with a similar feeling. I’ll give you everything I have if you change your mind about going to the courthouse today. And another piece fit into place. I thought about it and it might be better if you bow out. Let your father handle it and the FBI will only have more evidence to nail him. But he couldn’t convince her to agree so the final piece fit perfectly into place then. I asked the FBI agent I spoke with this morning for additional coverage inside the building. And planted the other seed in the agent’s head which led them and the chief judge to this decision.

  A gavel slammed inside her skull and caused her brain to throb. The guilty look on Jaxson’s face when it finally came into focus again said she was right.

  “You did this,” Fallon accused, pointing her finger at him.

  Jaxson’s jaw tightened, and a muscle worked in his cheek but he didn’t deny it.

  Feeling weak in her knees and sick at heart, Fallon walked back over to her desk and sat down behind it. She knew now there was no reason to see the chief judge, the clerk or anyone else. The FBI had requested this change, because Jaxson Thomas suggested it to them.

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, then laced her fingers together to stop the shaking as she placed her hands on her desk to pin him with her eyes.

  “Well, Mr. Thomas, it appears you’ve connived your way right out of an assignment.” And Fallon’s circle of trust. “Your services are no longer needed here, so you’re fired.” She would never be able to trust this man again, even if she loved him.

  “You can’t fire me,” Jaxson growled, his dark eyebrows crashing down over his eyes as he charged toward her desk, but Fallon held up her hand. “You’re not safe until this case is over.”

  “Oh, but I can,” she argued, glaring at him. “Because of your interference in my business, I am as safe now as I am every day at this facility, so I no longer need protection. Your mission is done here, Mr. Decorated SEAL.”

  Jaxson moved in closer to slam his hands down on her desk. “Regardless of whether you want me here or not, I’m staying to protect you until it’s over,” he said flatly.

  Fallon laughed harshly. “Then you’d be considered a stalker wouldn’t you, Mr. Thomas? The emotion in her throat shot up to her eyes and she dragged them to her inbox where she reached for the first file on the top of the huge stack at the corner of her desk. “I can assure you there are laws against that in this state and I will definitely prosecute if I see you again. Do yourself a favor, go back to Virginia and take your SEAL buddies with you.”

  A rumble preceded a roar, as Jaxson reached across the desk to grab her wrist in a steely grip. “You still need protection, dammit!”

  Fallon’s smiled tightly, as she pulled her hand back. “Even if I do still need protection, I no longer trust you with my best interest—so regardless, you’re fired.” She pushed her c
hair back from the heat of his anger, and reached behind her on the credenza for a law book she had no use for right then. What she was really doing was hiding the fact that her eyes were filled to overflowing because her heart lay in a million pieces inside her chest.

  Without turning around, she said, “Leave, Jaxson. I have work to do, and I don’t want to have to call those extra FBI agents posted in the hall to show you out.”

  For two full minutes, the only sound in her office was his ragged breathing, every one of them taking another chunk out of her insides. Finally, she heard the sound of her chamber door closing softly and not a moment too soon, she thought, as the dam she’d been holding back burst wide open.

  A moment later, her door opened again. She would’ve gotten up and locked it but she was hurting too badly. She waved a hand at whoever it was without turning, and tried to mute her sobs, but her visitor didn’t leave.

  “You need to get over this axe you have to grind with the Crifaso family, Fallon Louise,” her father said, and the door clicked shut.

  Oh, please, not now, daddy.

  “It’s very unprofessional and frankly embarrassing to me since I recommended you for your appointment.” When she didn’t respond, he huffed a breath. “I know you’re unseasoned, but your behavior is starting to raise eyebrows. I’m afraid the senior judges are taking notice, so you need to back off if you want to keep your job.”

  Fallon’s gut burned like someone shoved a hot knife in it, and she moaned as she leaned over her arms to grip her midsection tighter and the tears came hard and fast. The only senior judge taking notice was her father, because he was on the Crifaso’s payroll.

  Now, that is what was embarrassing.

  Knowing the truth now, that her father was just as corrupt as those mobsters, killed her. James Sharpe was the reason she’d taken an interest in going to law school in the first place, in becoming a federal judge. He’d been her idol, she’d looked up to him all her life, and to see him fall like this was sickening. The air tensed as her father walked closer to her desk. He put his hands on the surface to lean toward her.