Hot SEALs: My SEAL Bodyguard (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Paige Tyler

  “You’d better,” her friend said. “You still haven’t told me if Noah looks as good out of his clothes as he does in them.”

  Peyton shook her head as she slipped her phone in the patch pocket on the front of her tank dress. Tabitha was so bad sometimes, and she knew her girlfriend would keep digging until she got all the naughty details. Peyton assumed the person leaning on the doorbell was Gwen, there to check on Peyton like she promised, so she was shocked when she opened the door and saw who her visitor actually was.

  “Scott! What are you doing here?”

  “Gwen was going to come by to check on you herself, but I offered to be the one to do it.” He ran his hand through his blond hair. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.”

  Peyton stepped back so he could walk inside, then closed the door behind him. When her editor had said someone would stop by today, Peyton really had expected it to be her. If not, then one of the other girls. Scott would have been her last guess. They’d worked together on her first two books, but since Gwen had taken her on full-time after that, they hadn’t said more than a dozen words to each other in the intervening years.

  Scott shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. She couldn’t believe he was wearing a suit. It was almost ninety degrees out.

  “I’m sorry about what I said last night.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was more interested in your book than your safety.”

  She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Things got a little crazy. I’m only glad the cops caught the jerks.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he said. “Speaking of the book, how’s it coming?”

  “It’s almost finished.” She made a face. “I’m trying to wrap up the ending, but I can’t quite seem to get it the way I want it.”

  He nodded. “Do you want me to take a peek? Maybe I could help you out.”

  “Sure,” she said, remembering he’d been pretty good at making suggestions back when they’d worked together. “I was about to get some coffee. Do you want some?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black’s fine.”

  She smiled. “Go on upstairs to my office. The book’s already open and on the computer. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Peyton poured coffee into a pair of mugs, then added cream and sugar to hers before carrying them upstairs. When she got to her office, she froze in the doorway.

  Scott was standing there with two hard drives in his hand, looking as shocked as she was.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

  He flushed. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  She tightened her grip on the mugs. “Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to steal my book.”

  Scott didn’t say anything.

  “That is what you’re were trying to do, isn’t it?” she insisted. “Why would you do something like that?”

  When he still didn’t answer, Peyton thought maybe she was wrong. But then Scott’s face twisted, looking angrier than she’d ever imagined it could be.

  “Because I’m tired of being pissed on and told it’s raining. I’m the one who scooped your first book off the slush pile all those years ago. I was the one who fought to get it on the table for consideration. I was the one who edited the first two books in the series, not Gwen. Hell, she was one of the people who didn’t see any potential in the series. I was the one who put your books on the bestseller lists!”

  Peyton frowned, stunned. Yes, she’d worked with him on her earlier books, but she had no idea he’d been the one who found it in the slush pile.

  “But I thought you were getting promoted to full editor in the thriller market,” she said softly.

  “I thought so too, but then Gwen decided she needed my help too much to let me leave.” He snorted. “I figured if I was going to do this much damn work on a book, I should at least get paid for it. Luckily, there are pirates willing to give me a small fortune for it.”

  Peyton’s stomach clenched as she put two and two together. “You hired those guys to kidnap me?”

  “They would have pulled it off too, if it wasn’t for Noah Chase.” Scott’s lip curled. “How the hell was I supposed to know Gwen talked the publisher into hiring a damn former Navy SEAL to be your bodyguard? This all would have been easier if you didn’t have the book on a removable hard drive you carry with you everywhere you go. I almost flipped when I overheard Gwen talking to the publisher about it.”

  This was insane. All this time she’d thought it was some nameless, faceless criminals looking to sell her book to the highest bidder. Discovering it was someone she trusted made the whole thing even worse.

  “You didn’t think you could walk out of here with that hard drive without me knowing, did you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I did. And if you’d come upstairs a few minutes later, you never would have realized I even made the switch.” He slipped one hard drive in the pocket of his suit jacket and tossed the other carelessly on the desk. “Now, I’m going to have to do something about that.”

  Peyton’s blood ran cold. Crap. For the first time since she’d walked in here, she realized she might be in trouble.

  Before she knew what she was even doing, Peyton threw the hot coffee at Scott, mugs and all. Then she turned and ran.

  He caught up with her halfway down the hall. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around and slammed her against the wall. Her head hit with a thud, then everything went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Noah couldn’t remember having it so bad for a woman before, but after spending one amazing night with Peyton, she was in his blood. He hadn’t been able to think about anything other than her the whole way to the police station. Hell, he was damn lucky he hadn’t driven off the road on the way. Even now, as he strode inside and headed upstairs to see Dwayne, he was still daydreaming about how much fun it’d been showering with her that morning. In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been the most prudent thing to do—despite how much water they’d conserved—since they’d ended up having another quickie. Although, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been anything quick about what they’d done.

  He knew he was probably grinning like an idiot as he walked over to his friend’s desk, but he didn’t care. Peyton was the kind of woman who made him not give a shit what people thought of him.

  Dwayne had finished locking up his gun in the bottom drawer of his desk when he looked up and saw Noah.

  “Hey,” Dwayne said. “What’s up?”

  “I heard you caught the other guy who tried to kidnap Peyton Matthews,” Noah said. “I thought I’d stop by and see if either of them said anything.”

  “Not yet.” Dwayne snorted. “According to their lawyer, they’re looking to make a deal. I was about to go talk to them. You want to listen in?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Noah couldn’t imagine what either asshole could say that’d make the district attorney go easy on them, but he was damn interested in hearing what it was.

  Dwayne led the way down the hallway, then showed Noah into a room with a two-way mirror that allowed him to see into the interrogation room. Both kidnappers were already there, along with a gray-haired man who Noah assumed was their lawyer. All three men sat up a little straighter when Dwayne walked in and sat down opposite them.

  “I understand your clients have something they want to tell me, Mr. Carpenter,” Dwayne said to the gray-haired man.

  Carpenter nodded. “In return for a deal, yes.”

  “That depends on what they have to say.”

  Carpenter hesitated, then nodded at the two men.

  The one who’d grabbed Peyton and dragged her into the van took a deep breath. Without the ski mask, he didn’t look nearly as tough. “We were only trying to kidnap that writer because someone hired us to do it. We were never gonna hurt her. We were just gonna steal her damn book, then let her go, but she had a death grip on that
frigging purse of hers.”

  Noah tensed. If someone had hired these two idiots, that person was still out there and would almost certainly go after Peyton and her book again.

  “Who hired you?” Dwayne asked.

  “Some guy from New York or LA or some big city like that,” the guy who’d been driving the getaway car said.

  Dwayne frowned. “That doesn’t really narrow it down. If you want a deal, you’re going to have to do better than ‘some guy from New York.’ I need a name.”

  “He didn’t give us one,” Getaway Driver said. “And before you ask, he paid up front in cash. Five thousand in cash—each. For a damn romance book. Can you believe that?”

  Dwayne ignored the meaningless commentary and stuck to the point. “Well, if you can’t give me a name, how about a description?” Dwayne prompted.

  “He’s white. Average height. Blond hair.” The second kidnapper answered.

  Noah clenched his jaw. Getaway Driver had described a third of the population.

  “Anything else you can remember about him?” Dwayne asked. “Tattoos or distinguishing characteristics?”

  Both men were silent for a few moments before Getaway Driver spoke again.

  “It’s not really a distinguishing characteristic, but he has this irritating habit of twirling a damn pen between his fingers all the time.”

  Noah’s gut clenched. Shit.

  He rapped on the one-way glass with his knuckles to get Dwayne’s attention, then walked out of the room, hoping his friend got the message. Fortunately, he had.

  “What’s up?” Dwayne asked as he met Noah in the hallway.

  “I know the son of a bitch who hired those guys,” Noah told him. “It’s one of the editors at her publisher by the name of Scott Moore. He’s staying at the hotel where they had the release party last night.”

  “You sure it’s him?”

  “I’m sure. He spent the whole night twirling his pen between his fingers,” Noah said. “I’m going back to Peyton’s. Call me when you pick up Moore.”

  As he raced down the stairs, Noah pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Peyton. It rang four times, then went to voice mail.

  Dammit.

  “Peyton, it’s me. Scott Moore hired those two guys who tried to kidnap you. I don’t know why, but my guess is someone is going to pay him a lot of money for your book. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’m on my way.”

  Noah cranked his SUV and squealed out of the parking lot. As he sped across town, he wished GAPS had a permit for flashing lights and sirens because he could really use some about now. Even without them, he made it to Peyton’s house in less than fifteen minutes.

  Skidding to a stop in the driveway, he got out and ran up the steps to the front porch only to freeze. The door was ajar, like someone had left in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to make sure it was closed. Noah pulled his gun, dread settling in the pit of his stomach even as his SEAL training kicked in.

  He hurriedly cleared the first floor, terrified he’d find Peyton lying in a pool of blood. Moore had struck him as kind of a wimpy guy, but who knew how he’d react if Peyton had stood up to him.

  “Peyton!” he called, taking the steps two at a time.

  Silence.

  Noah worked his way down the hall, checking each room as he came to it. He got as far as her home office. Two mugs lay on the floor, coffee staining the carpet around them. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what had happened. Moore had come to steal the book and Peyton had tried to stop him. But the stains on the floor were already cold and starting to dry. This had happened a while ago, maybe shortly after he’d left.

  But where was she?

  A quick look around the rest of the house told Noah she wasn’t there. Moore must have taken her with him.

  Shit.

  Noah knew he should have called Dwayne, but instead he dialed a fellow SEAL who worked at GAPS. The cops would take forever to find out the information he needed, and he didn’t have time to waste.

  “Antonio, it’s Noah. I need you to crank up your computer and do that magic thing you do.”

  The other man chuckled. “By magic, I assume you want me to hack into something. What do you need?”

  That’s what Noah loved about working with another SEAL. They never asked too many questions. He gave Antonio the CliffsNotes version as he climbed in his SUV and started the engine.

  “It might be a long shot, but can you check to see if Moore is booked on a flight out of here?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Give me a few minutes.”

  Noah drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to get a handle on his impatience. It wasn’t working.

  He knew there was no way Moore could get on a plane with Peyton in tow, but Noah needed to track down that piece of shit if he hoped to find her. If he were Moore, he’d be on the first flight out of Virginia Beach.

  “Got him,” Antonio said in his ear. “Moore is booked on a flight to Mexico on Arriba Airlines. It leaves at 1400 hours from Gate A.”

  Noah checked his watch. That was less than two hours from now.

  “Thanks, Antonio. I owe you.”

  Backing out of the driveway, he sped toward the airport, praying he wasn’t too late.

  * * * * *

  Peyton squeezed her eyes shut. Crap, it felt like someone was driving a spike into her head. She supposed that was what happened when someone slammed you into a wall. She couldn’t believe Scott had betrayed her like that. She was sorry he’d gotten the shaft from the publisher, but that didn’t give him the right to steal her book. Or kidnap her.

  She had to call Noah. Hopefully, he could stop Scott before that little weasel left the country.

  She opened her eyes slowly, ready to squint against the sunlight sure to be streaming through the windows into the upstairs hallway, but all she saw was darkness around her. For one terrifying moment, she thought the hit she’d taken had blinded her. No, she could see fine. It was dark.

  Did that mean it was nighttime? Had she been unconscious all day?

  Peyton tried to roll onto her side and nearly hit her head again. She automatically reached up to rub the offended area and discovered her wrists were bound together with something tight, thick, and sticky. It took her a couple of seconds to realize it was duct tape. That was when she realized she was gagged, too.

  What the heck…?

  She looked around the small space, able to see better now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light. It took her a minute to figure out where she was, but when she finally did, her eyes went wide. She was in the trunk of a car. A car speeding down the road.

  Crap.

  Where the hell was Scott taking her? More importantly, what was he going to do with her when he got there?

  Peyton wiggled her wrists, struggling against the tape, but it was useless. She’d have to be Wonder Woman to tear the stuff. Then again, if she were Wonder Woman, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. She would have kicked Scott’s butt already.

  If she got out of this, she was going to ask Noah to teach her some of his SEAL moves so she could defend herself in case some other crazy editor tried to steal her book again or stuff her in the trunk of a car.

  She stopped struggling against the tape, hope surging through her. If anyone could find her, it would be Noah.

  Peyton tried to find solace in that while fighting back tears when the car suddenly slowed and turned before finally coming to a stop. From outside, she heard the distinctive echo of a plane taking off. It was still fading into the distance as the car door opened, then closed. She tensed as footsteps came around to the back of the vehicle. A moment later, the lid of the trunk opened.

  Humid air rushed into the already hot space, making it hard to breathe through the cloth stuffed in her mouth. She squinted against the brightness, lifting her bound hands to shield her eyes. Thankfully, Scott moved to block the sun.

  He regarded her almost regretfully, his mouth pressed into a thin
line. “I’m sorry to have to leave you in here, but I don’t have a choice. When I get to Mexico, I’ll call the police and let them know where to find you.”

  Peyton tried to tell him he didn’t have to do that, she wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but all that came out was a muffled sound. Not that it would have mattered. Scott slammed the trunk closed with a resounding thud, leaving her in darkness.

  Tears burned her eyes again, and this time she didn’t try to hold them back. When he got to Mexico… That would be hours and hours. She’d roast to death before the call ever came.

  * * * * *

  Noah left his SUV at the curb and raced into the airport, not giving a damn if the vehicle got towed. He didn’t have time to dick around looking for a space in the parking lot. He had to find Moore before the asshole went through security or he was screwed.

  The airport was packed with people, and weaving his way through the maze was like navigating an obstacle course. All while looking for a needle in a haystack. Luckily, he had training in ferreting out bad guys.

  Moore was standing in the long line of people waiting to get through security. Noah slowed his steps. The last thing he wanted to do was spook the guy. Moore looked nervous enough already.

  Noah tried to look casual as he walked along beside the line. If this were a SEAL mission, his plan of action would be simple. He’d pull his weapon and put a bullet in the guy’s leg, then politely ask him exactly where he’d hidden Peyton. But doing that wasn’t really an option, not unless he wanted TSA all over him. Not to mention the uniformed cop who stood nearby. Something told Noah his GAPS credentials weren’t going to carry much weight with the local PD.

  Noah was still a few feet away from Moore when the man spotted him. The color drained from Moore’s face, his eyes taking on a panicked look. He threw a quick glance at the TSA checkpoint, then at the exit door half a football field away. For a minute Noah thought he might try to make a run for it, but instead, Moore darted out of line and slammed into the side of the unsuspecting cop.