Undercover SEAL

by Paige Tyler

  The three men who’d arrived with Nick and Dalton weren’t nearly as interested in what she and the arms dealer were talking about. Neither were the four other men at the table. Then again, they were regulars at the villa, a sordid collection of lawyers and accountants who had something to do with keeping her father out of jail—and a grave. There were a handful of guards in the dining room as well posted at various places, but they couldn’t care less about her. From where he stood behind her father, Leon, on the other hand, was staring daggers at her and Nick. Bristol ignored him.

  “Not really,” she said in answer to Nick’s question.

  She belatedly remembered to paste a fake smile on her face in case her father happened to glance their way from the far end of the table, something he did every few minutes when he wasn’t deep in conversation with the man named Roman. She was a little surprised her father was openly discussing a weapons deal in front of her. It was another indication of how far gone he was. Clearly, he no longer cared that she knew he was in the cartel.

  Nick regarded the plate of food in front of her for a moment, then looked at her again. “I hope it’s not because of the company?”

  She’d been waiting for Nick to start making a move on her at some point. She’d heard enough of her father’s phone conversation with Edein to know the arms dealer was a player. But what he’d just asked didn’t sound like any kind of come-on line she’d ever heard.

  She threw a covert glance in her father’s direction to see if he was listening, but he was still too engrossed in negotiations to bother with her at the moment. Leon must have heard, though. He looked so furious she thought he might bite his tongue off. Then again, maybe he was simply furious he was talking to another man. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d choke on that tongue when it fell off.

  “Of course not.” She gave Nick a smile. “Why would you think that?”

  Nick shrugged. “I saw your face when we arrived. I got the feeling you weren’t thrilled to see us.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but Nick cut her off with a chuckle that was way sexier than it had a right to be.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to have dinner with mercenaries, arms dealers, and criminals either.”

  Bristol blinked. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he meant that. But that didn’t make sense considering he was one of the aforementioned mercenary, arms dealing criminals.

  “If you missed it, that was Nick trying to put you at ease,” Dalton said, leaning forward to grin at her. “You probably missed it though because he sucks when it comes to being charming.”

  Nick frowned at the blond man. “Was anyone talking to you?”

  “No. But since it’s my job to keep you safe, I figured I should step in and help translate your clumsy attempts at being suave before you trip over your tongue and hurt yourself.”

  Shaking his head, Nick turned back to her. “Ignore Dalton. He has a hard time remembering why I hired him. He’s paid to take a bullet for me, not criticize me.”

  Bristol couldn’t help smiling. She might not know Nick well, but there was no mistaking the easy camaraderie between the two men. They were more like friends than employer and employee.

  “It’s okay. I’m used to it,” she said. “My father is in the Amador cartel. I have dinner with killers and drug dealers every night.”

  That wasn’t quite true since she never ate dinner with her father, but they lived in the same house, which was close enough for her.

  Nick’s dark eyes danced as he studied her. “Ouch. So, you’re comparing me with killers and drug dealers now?”

  She laughed. To say Nick wasn’t anything like she expected was an understatement. Maybe he was just working her, but if so, he was damn good at it.

  “Okay, maybe you’re a little better than that,” she said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her father looking at them. Her smile faltered a little. She didn’t want him getting too pleased with himself.

  Nick must have realized her father was watching them, too. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I couldn’t help noticing your father made sure we sat together. What’s the deal with that?”

  As he waited for an answer, he casually turned his attention to the shrimp-filled enchiladas on his plate. Nick might seem like a nice guy, but there was a good chance that anything she said would make it back to her father. Did she really need more trouble like that?

  Some part of her must have thought she did—or didn’t care—because after taking a few bites of her own enchilada she found herself answering his question.

  “My father plans on offering you a job and insists you’ll be more inclined to take it if I’m nice to you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick stiffen, the fork he held hovering above his plate for a few seconds. Even Dalton had become motionless. Bristol hadn’t even realized he was still eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Nick slowly set down his fork and looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “Your father wants you to flirt with me just so I’ll be more willing to work for him?”

  She might not have been able to read his expression, but she definitely picked up on the tension in his voice. He genuinely seemed shocked. Maybe even angry. She wondered why. It wasn’t like she was anything to him.

  “You apparently don’t know my father very well,” she said bitterly. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so surprised at the lengths he’ll go to to get what he wants.”

  Nick locked eyes with her, his dark gaze intense. “If I don’t take him up on his offer, will he blame you?”

  Bristol stared at him, too stunned to do more than that. Why was he acting like he cared about her? Some small, almost childlike voice in the back of her mind whispered that Nick’s concern might be real. That if she was honest with him, he might somehow help her get away from her father and out of this horrible situation.

  But then reality intruded, and the cynical part of her that had taken over the day she learned Luis Munoz wasn’t the man she’d thought he was pointed out that Nick wasn’t any kind of saint. He was an arms dealer here to sell illegal weapons to her father. A man who made his money selling instruments of war to anyone who could pay for them. He was playing her by making it seem like he cared about her so it would be easier to get in her panties.

  Well, she wasn’t falling for it.

  Bristol broke eye contact and concentrated on her dinner plate, taking a few more bites of enchilada before taking a sip of wine.

  “Did I hear my father say that you live in Brussels?” she asked, setting down her glass.

  Nick did a double take at the sudden change in conversation. In a weird way, his reaction made her almost feel like she’d regained a bit of control over the situation. Like she’d caught him at his game and now she was the one calling the shots. It was probably juvenile but her life hadn’t been hers to control for over a year. Even a tiny step in the right direction felt good.

  He finally nodded. “Yeah. I have a place in Brussels, but my work keeps me on the move so much, I can’t remember the last time I was there. In fact, sometimes it feels like I’ve never even been to Brussels at all. I love Europe, though. You can drive a few hours in any one direction and the scenery changes. There’s something magical about that.”

  Bristol cursed silently. She’d been so quick to talk about something other than her father that she’d said the first thing that had popped into her head. Unfortunately, asking Nick about his home in Europe had only brought up another sensitive topic—the fact that she was a prisoner here and that all the dreams she’d once had of traveling and seeing the world were dead and gone.

  “Have you ever been to Europe?” Nick asked.

  She shook her head sadly. Her mother had urged her to take a year off in between her bachelors and masters programs and see the world, but she’d wanted to get her schooling done first, figuring she’d travel afterward.

  Things obviously h
adn’t worked out the way she’d planned

  Isabella was the only other person she ever talked to about it but suddenly she found herself wanting to tell Nick, too. Dammit, why did his deep, sexy voice make her want to confide in him about stuff she shouldn’t?

  “No, I’ve never been there,” she admitted softly. “I’ve always wanted to go, but never had the chance. Actually, I’ve never been outside Mexico except to go to college.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Connecticut.”

  “Really?” He grinned. “I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”

  She smiled at the memory. “Beautiful, even if it was too cold most of the time. The snow was brutal for a girl from Mexico.”

  Nick chuckled, the husky sound making her feel warm all over. Had she really thought he’d been playing her before? The whole idea suddenly seemed kind of silly.

  “What’d you think the first time you saw the white stuff?” he asked, leaning in a little closer.

  Regardless of whether his interest was genuine or not, it was fun thinking back to that first magical moment she’d felt snow on her face and seen it blanketing the campus of Central Connecticut State University. Her father forgotten for the moment, she told Nick about building a snowman with her friends and getting in a snowball fight with what seemed like the entire student body, then making snow angels afterward. As they talked, all the misery that had been weighing her down for so long simply disappeared and she was almost happy again. It’d been so long she’d forgotten what it felt like.

  Then her father appeared at her side. He rested one hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

  “I knew you two would hit it off,” he said with a laugh.

  There was no laughter in his eyes though. Just cold calculation. Any happiness she’d felt a few moments ago disappeared immediately. Bristol attempted to shrug his hand off her shoulder, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

  “And since my weapons won’t be off the ship until the day after tomorrow, Nick has some free time until then,” her father continued. “Which makes it the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know each other better, my dear.”

  Bristol opened her mouth to tell her she was busy the next day, and every day after for the foreseeable future, but Nick spoke first.

  “I’m sure your daughter has better things to do than spend time with me.” Nick’s eyes never left hers. “I can keep myself occupied.”

  “Don’t be silly,” her father said firmly. “In fact, I insist you and my daughter take my yacht out tomorrow.”

  Nick considered that. “Only if Bristol agrees.”

  “Of course, she agrees.” Her father squeezed her shoulder again. “Don’t you, my dear?”

  She almost told her father to go to hell, but then caught herself. This was the first time since her mother’s death that he was allowing her to leave the villa. True, it was only so she could entertain his precious arms dealer, and while it might not be easy to slip away from the guards her father would almost certainly send with them, she’d put up with Nick if it meant getting a chance to escape.

  So, she nodded. “Of course.”

  “Excellent.” Her father smiled at Nick. “Lydia’s Dream is a beautiful yacht, Nick. Almost as beautiful as the woman she’s named after—Bristol’s mother, rest her soul. I know she’d be very pleased the two of you are going to take it out and enjoy yourselves. She loved that boat almost as much as she loved Bristol and me.”

  Bristol stiffened. Her father hadn’t so much as whispered her mother’s name since he’d murdered her—or had someone do it for him. Hearing it roll of his tongue like he was trying to sell Nick a damn used car made her so furious she wanted to scream.

  She stared down at her nearly full plate, hoping if she focused on something besides her father that she wouldn’t give in to the urge to grab a gun from the nearest guard and shoot him with it. But then she saw the steak knife beside her plate and realized how much easier it would be to simply plunge it into her father’s heart instead.

  She was just reaching for it when she felt Nick’s hand on her thigh underneath the table. She had no idea how he’d known what she was about to do, but the contact was enough to jerk her out of the rage she was in and help her get a grip.

  That didn’t mean she was going to sit there and listen to her father talk about her mother anymore.

  Shoving her father’s hand away, she shot to her feet, pushing her chair back so hard it almost toppled over. Turning, she headed for the door, refusing to look at him or anyone else in the room. Not even Nick.

  “Bristol,” her father said sharply. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t stop walking either. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep it together and hold back the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks right there in front of everyone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BRISTOL MADE ONE hell of an exit as she walked out of the lavish dining room. Not surprising, Nash thought. She was an extremely captivating woman. One who’d figuratively just kicked her father in the balls in front of his guests.

  Nash couldn’t blame her. Munoz had practically served her up on a silver platter for him—or rather, Nick Chapman. What the hell kind of father did that?

  But while that was definitely reason enough for Bristol to resent the man, it wasn’t until Munoz mentioned her mother that her whole demeanor changed. If Nash hadn’t put his hand on her leg, she probably would have actually tried to stab the cartel boss with that steak knife she’d been reaching for.

  Munoz stared at the door, a stunned expression on his face like he was shocked his daughter had left. After a moment, his face hardened and he looked at Leon, some silent communication passing between them. Munoz’s right-hand muscle nodded once then strode from the room.

  Nash cursed silently. He wasn’t sure what Munoz had told Leon to do, but his gut told him it wasn’t anything good. Bristol had embarrassed Munoz. That wasn’t a good thing even if she was his daughter.

  “Stay here,” he whispered to Dalton.

  Tossing his napkin on the table, Nash pushed back his chair and followed Leon. Dalton was damn good to have in a firefight, no doubt about it, but this had the potential to get sticky fast. If things went bad, he’d rather have Dalton here keeping an eye on Munoz and the other guards.

  Two of them immediately moved to intercept Nash. He gave them a hard look, silently begging them to try and stop him. Both men glanced over his shoulder in Munoz’s direction, clearly waiting for the cartel boss to tell them what to do. A moment later, they stepped aside. Obviously, Munoz didn’t seem to mind if he got into it with Leon.

  Nash wondered what that was about.

  Once outside the dining room, Nash saw Leon disappear around the corner at the end of the hallway. Nash jogged after him even as a part of his head wanted to know what the hell he was doing. He was supposed to be here playing the part of a criminal and getting information about Russian arms dealers out of Luis Munoz. He wasn’t here to play the hero and rescue the damsel in distress. Especially when that damsel in distress happened to be the daughter of the man they were trying to put in prison.

  That didn’t keep him from going after Bristol anyway.

  The hallway led to a state-of-the-art kitchen big enough to park a few cars in. Bristol was on the far side of the room near a huge stainless-steel refrigerator, Leon towering over her menacingly. The asshole had a hand wrapped around her wrist and was saying something low and threatening sounding in Spanish. Nash had picked up enough of the language since becoming a SEAL and moving to San Diego to know Leon was saying she belonged to him.

  Anger surged through Nash. No friggin' way was he going to stand by and watch any woman get abused, and Leon looked like he was half a second away from smacking Bristol.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Nash noticed an older woman standing with her back to the stove, terror on her face. Ignoring her, he strode across the kitchen.


  “Let Bristol go,” Nash ordered.

  Bristol jumped, clearly surprised by Nash’s presence, but the relief in her eyes was obvious. If Leon was stunned, he didn’t let on. Instead, he stabbed Nash with a murderous look.

  “You should go back to the dining room,” Leon suggested in a low voice. “This is between her and me. It’s none of your business.”

  Nash stopped a few feet away. “I’m making it my business.”

  Leon muttered something in Spanish under his breath and tightened his grip on Bristol’s arm, nearly jerking her off her feet as he pulled her closer. Nash would have preferred to get Bristol away from Leon before things got ugly, but that might not be possible.

  Nash tensed, ready to dive for Leon’s left knee when the man shoved Bristol roughly aside, sending her stumbling across the kitchen. The older woman by the stove darted forward and caught Bristol before she crashed to the floor, then dragged her to the other side of the room out of harm’s way.

  Nash barely had time to blink before Leon came at him swinging. Nash cursed. As much as he wanted to wipe the floor with the buffoon, he didn’t want to damage the guy seriously. He might deserve an ass whooping of epic proportions for putting his hands on Bristol, but putting Munoz’s personal bodyguard in the hospital wasn’t likely to help when it came to getting the info they were here for.

  He ducked under Leon’s arm, driving a fist into the man’s exposed stomach before quickly backpedaling. Leon grunted, but immediately came at him again. Nash slowed him with a quick jab to the jaw then a punch to the ribs.

  Leon bellowed in rage as Nash darted away into clear space. There was a lot of frustration in that sound, but some pain there, too.

  Nash glanced to the side, hoping the two women had been smart and gotten the hell out of the kitchen. But no, Bristol and the older woman were still there. Bristol seriously looked like she wanted a piece of Leon. In fact, the older woman had to physically hold her back. Damn, Munoz’s daughter was ballsy. Maybe too ballsy for her own good.

  He turned back to Leon, expecting the bodyguard to take another swing at him, but the man was headed for the large marble island in the middle of the kitchen. Nash wasn’t sure what he was up to until Leon jerked a big chef’s knife out of a rack of blades.