Her SEAL Protector

by Jillian Burns

  He licked his dry lips. Okay, so he cared about her. Right now. Cared too much to let her think anything would come of it. She was way too good, too smart, too everything for him, anyway. So, he’d have to be brutal. He looked her straight in the eye. “Look, Gabby. You want a fun night in the sack?” He shrugged. “I’m your guy. But I will never want all the complications that come with being in a relationship. I know what you want, Gabby, and I’m not it.” He caught her flinch from the corner of his eye and gritted his teeth.

  Her lips rolled in as she slowly nodded. “Right.” She grabbed her purse and got to her feet. “Well, at least I didn’t wimp out this time.” She gave him a tight smile. “I feel like I’ve said this before but have a nice life.”

  “Gabby.” He jumped to his feet and reached for her arm. But what did he even want from her? He wanted her to leave. And he wanted her to never leave.

  “What?” Her head tilted, her eyes questioning, hoping.

  No sense in giving her false hope. He dropped his hand. “Nothing.”

  She blinked rapidly as her eyes filled with tears. Those tears were killing him.

  Preparing to let her go, he watched as she headed toward the café door. Then she turned back to him. “Maybe you’re wrong, you know?” she breathed the words softly.

  But he knew he wasn’t. He huffed a bitter laugh. “You don’t know me, Gabby. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You have this fantasy in your head of who I am.” The thought of losing hero status in her eyes made his throat ache.

  She drew herself up, hardened her expression. “Are you sure you know yourself as well as you think?” Then she spun on her boot heels and bolted from the café.

  The urge to run after her and catch her in his arms almost brought him to his knees. He knew he was doing the right thing. But why did the right thing have to twist him up inside?

  16

  GABBY SQUEEZED BETWEEN two other subway commuters and got a tenuous hold on a metal pole when the doors closed. As she took in the packed car, she smiled at the thought of the huge guy Clay had hired to be her bodyguard trying to fit onto this train.

  Yesterday morning, while waiting for her luggage, she’d told the nice bodyguard guy that Clay had changed his mind and would be staying with her, so he wouldn’t be needed. That way, he wouldn’t report back to his boss that she was unprotected. Mostly because she couldn’t afford him. But she also hadn’t received any more threats. And between the apartment’s new security system, the pepper spray she kept with her at all times and the self-defense classes, she felt as safe as any regular person would.

  And she’d be sure to spread it around the office that she and Clay had broken up. That way he wouldn’t be in any danger.

  She exited the subway to face another chilly, gray day, so she opened her umbrella. It was as if the weather knew that a warm, sunny April would be wasted on her, knew that bright spring flowers blooming would only depress her more. New York clung to winter as desperately as Gabby clung to her numbness. If she didn’t let herself think about Clay, then maybe she could regain a sense of normalcy.

  Trying to do just that, she spent the morning whittling down the stack of reports that had built up while she was in Switzerland. Coworkers talked over partitions, describing their weekends, a couple asking her about Switzerland, and she talked about the Hadron Collider and the beautiful hotel.

  She would get over this. She would get on with her life. And she certainly didn’t have this...Savior Syndrome.

  Curled up in bed yesterday, she’d researched Savior Syndrome online and read all the articles she could find. Disturbing phrases like “unhealthy relationships” and “victim mentality” had popped out at her. One of the articles said that some women find being rescued “romantic” and will seek out men who are controlling or emotionally unstable. Had she done that?

  Everything inside her vehemently denied that accusation. Clay hadn’t tried to control her. Well, maybe a little. Like installing a security system in her apartment without asking her. And trying to tell her she couldn’t go see the Hadron Collider. At least he’d relented on that. But then he’d hired a bodyguard without consulting her. Omg, he was controlling.

  And he was, at the very least, that most horribly clichéd of terms: emotionally unavailable.

  It’d seemed as if there were two Clays. The first one, who’d kissed her with so much tenderness, had made her want to see where the relationship might go. And the other Clay, a player who didn’t do relationships because they were messy.

  But when she thought about it now, she could also see the hurt little boy inside whose parents had made him believe they didn’t care. The boy who’d learned not to believe in happy marriages. How sick was it that she still wanted, desperately, to be the one to make him believe in love?

  She’d thought she was falling in love with Clay, and even started to believe that he had feelings for her, too. But how could she trust her judgment? Maybe she’d just been trying to have her own fairy-tale romance. A soldier had saved her life, and she’d wanted that sappy happy-ever-after.

  “So, you got home okay?”

  Startled, Gabby spun in her chair to face James. “What? Oh yeah, we just took a later flight.” She tried to smile.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against her desk. His stare weirded her out. She hadn’t seen him since he’d acted so creepy at the hospital, and she had to admit she’d arrived extra early this morning to avoid him. “I broke up with Clay,” she blurted.

  He perked up. “Really?”

  She tried not to roll her eyes. That had not been a hint.

  “Want to get some lunch?”

  Uh... No. Not if she was starving and he held the last bag of French fries on earth.

  But she had to work with the guy. “Uh, it’s raining, so...” She tilted her head and wrinkled her nose in a what-can-you-do expression.

  “We could go to the deli across the plaza.” He smiled. “My treat.”

  “Oh, uh...” Geez, this was so awkward. “I better not. I’ve got so much work to catch up on.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” He nodded. “Okay. What about dinner tonight?”

  Gabby blinked. So was he asking her out on a date again? Hadn’t they already been there, done that? The guy did not know how to take no for an answer. And she couldn’t keep making excuses. Or coming in early to avoid him. She sighed. Maybe it was time to be more...forceful. Tell him in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t happening.

  Shoulders squared, she scooted back her chair and drew in a deep breath. “James, I appreciate that you’ve been a good friend to me. But I’m totally not interested in being anything more than coworkers, so I need you to stop asking me out.”

  His smile vanished, his face turned red and his lips twisted into a snarl. He reeled and stalked off.

  Well, that could’ve gone better.

  She looked around and noticed everyone in the immediate area had their heads poked above or around the corners of their cubicles.

  Oh no. Maybe she should’ve taken him somewhere more private to do that. She squeezed her eyes closed. Way to humiliate the guy, Gabby.

  She’d better go apologize. Otherwise it would worry her the rest of the day. Get it over with before he retaliated.

  Now why did she think he might react vindictively?

  Dreading the encounter, she stood and made her way over to James’s cubicle, rehearsing an appropriate apology in her mind.

  But he wasn’t there.

  Relief swamped her. She’d leave him a note. That would be better anyway, to be able to word it just so.

  But his desk was completely clear except for his laptop. Not a pen or pencil, not one piece of notepaper or post pad to be had. Wow.

  She yanked open the top drawer and grabbed a worn spiral notebook. A
chain was caught on the metal rings as she lifted the notebook from the drawer. It was some sort of necklace, a silver—medal. Her Mary medal!

  She’d never understood the phrase “make my skin crawl” until now.

  “What are you doing?”

  She jumped, floundering a moment, and almost dropped the necklace as she swung around to face him. “James.”

  “You were snooping in my things?”

  Seriously? He was accusing her of wrongdoing? She almost choked on her anger. “This is my medal.” She held it up as evidence. “Why do you have it? I thought I’d lost it during the mugging.”

  The guy in the next cubicle stuck his head over the partition.

  James swallowed, shifted weight from one foot to the other and finger-combed his hair off to the side with the opposite hand. “I found it. And I meant to return it, and then I kept forgetting and leaving it at my apartment.” He flashed a smile. “Until today.”

  Gabby clasped the medal tightly in her hand. He was so obviously lying. If that was true why hadn’t he given it to her a moment ago when he came by her cubicle?

  But what could she accuse him of? Stealing her medal? She had no proof. Maybe he had gone back like she had, except he’d spotted the keepsake. If that was true, then the worst he had done was neglect to return it. And even if he had planned on keeping it, she had it back now. The police wouldn’t be able to do anything.

  Trying to school her features, she managed a tight smile. “I am glad to have it again, at least.” She brushed past him and practically ran to her desk to hug herself and pace.

  She had to think this through. Had James really just found it after the mugging and forgotten to return it? If not, why would he want to keep her medal? Maybe as a token of him saving her? And come to think of it, he had chased away that mugger a little too easily that night...

  An ice-cold chill shivered down her spine. James knew where she lived. Could he have made a copy of her dead bolt key and broken into her apartment? But why?

  But the more she thought about it, the more the clues came together. James had been at the conference and so conveniently nearby when Clay was poisoned. He’d even tried to make a play for her at the hospital.

  All her suspicions coalesced into certainty. James had been so solicitous, so friendly. But it was all a lie. Why hadn’t she seen that before? Was she that naive, doomed to misjudge all men?

  Her stomach lurched. She was going to be sick.

  She started to dash out of her cubicle but James blocked her path. She almost ran into him. “James!”

  “Gabby?” He cupped her shoulders roughly and she had to stop herself from shaking him off.

  She made herself smile. “Yes?” Keep your expression neutral.

  He squeezed her shoulders and squinted at her. “Are you okay?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to demand answers, to ask him how, why he’d tormented her. But she wouldn’t be the victim who stupidly confronted the villain instead of going to the authorities. Though she wasn’t ready to go to the police yet. Not until she knew for sure.

  She licked her lips. “I’m fine.” Keep smiling.

  “You don’t look fine.” His smile was wide but menacing, his body almost touching hers.

  Make something up and get out! “Yeah, you know?” She frowned and nodded, even rubbed her stomach for good measure. “I may have picked up a bug on the plane. I’ll take the rest of the day off.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” And she wasn’t lying.

  James dropped his hands and stepped back, and she hurried down the hall to the ladies’ room.

  She slumped against a wall and started shaking and crying. Maybe she’d just spend the rest of the day in there.

  At least until she could figure out what to do about her psycho coworker.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS AFTER arriving back at Little Creek, Clay shipped out to northern Iraq with the rest of his team and was preparing to assist Kurdish and Iraqi forces in a hostage retrieval operation. It felt good to get back to the mission. This was what his life was about. This he excelled at.

  Eventually, Gabby would realize he’d done her a favor. He kept telling himself that every time he pictured her walking out of that airport coffee shop with that shattered look on her face. “Maybe you don’t know yourself.”

  He closed his eyes. He did know. She did want more than he could give. More than he could be.

  But why was he so bothered now? Hadn’t he wanted her to lose the rose-colored glasses she saw him through? Mission accomplished, right? He’d done all he could do. Neil was investigating her five coworkers. She had a new bodyguard. He could move on.

  “You rub that firearm any harder, Hounddog,” L.T. called from across the bunker, “and I’ll think maybe you two should get a room.”

  The rest of the guys hooted.

  Clay gave them all the one-finger salute, then set his cleaning rag aside and started reassembling his assault rifle.

  But L.T. was right. Clay needed to get his head in the game. Tonight’s mission was going to be tricky. His SEAL team was technically only there to “advise and assist.” But, yeah, that was just on paper. A dozen hostages were due to be executed soon, and his team, along with a Delta Force team, were moving in tonight.

  Clay geared up, listened as L.T. went over the plan with the group one last time and then headed out into the night.

  Gunshots popped and bullets whizzed past him as they invaded the compound. What Intel had thought was a dozen hostages turned out to be more like five dozen. That unexpected contingency created chaos getting them all out, ushering them down winding, cramped hallways and assessing each hostage for bombs and weapons before helping them into overloaded Humvees.

  Clay was laying down cover fire when a bright light flashed and he was blown yards away. He landed on his back with a hard thud and his chest felt like it was on fire. All he could hear was a loud ringing in his ears and all he could see was black smoke.

  But his last thought was of Gabby.

  17

  THEY WERE CHASING HER. Her heart pounded in her chest. Thorns caught on her blouse and ripped a gash in her arm as she crashed through the thick foliage. Blood beaded through the bright white silk. She couldn’t catch her breath and felt a sharp pain in her side, but she couldn’t stop running. She had to get to Clay. He needed her.

  Her feet caught on something in her path and she went down hard, catching her fall with her hands. Disoriented, she glanced around and saw what had tripped her. Clay’s lifeless body lay beneath her.

  Then she looked up at the shadow behind her. Poised over her with rage glowing in his murderous eyes... The shadow was James.

  She screamed.

  Gabby jerked awake.

  Whoa. She swallowed and took a breath. She had an appointment with the counselor today, but after finding her medal in James’s desk yesterday she didn’t need a psychiatrist to interpret that dream.

  How she wished she could throw the covers over her head and sleep the day away. But she had to start dealing with her problems. And that meant calling a locksmith for one, and getting to work this morning for another, despite having to face James.

  Keep your enemies close, right? At least if he was at work, she could keep her eye on him.

  But when she arrived at the office and casually inquired after him in the break room, Samantha, another junior analyst, told her he’d called in sick with the flu and might be out all week. Gabby’s whole body relaxed. He wasn’t here. She wouldn’t have to deal with him today. Or maybe even the entire week. Her hand flew to her Mary medal. It was back around her neck where it belonged, so maybe things would get better.

  Now that he realized she was on to him, he must’ve given up. He knew that if he caused any more pro
blems she’d know who to blame. For the first time in days, she took a deep, cleansing breath. Maybe between her counselor appointment this afternoon and having her medal again, she could begin to move on from all that had happened.

  She desperately needed to move on.

  Feeling a twinge of hope, she took her coffee to her cubicle and pulled out her phone.

  @nerdybankanalyst

  #gettingbacktonormal And to that end, another #bankingpunoftheday Bankers never die...they just pass the buck

  * * *

  “WHEN CAN I get the all clear, Doc?” Clay waited impatiently on the paper-covered examining table.

  The Navy doctor pulled reading glasses down off his head and consulted Clay’s chart. “No internal injuries. Just the concussion, some cracked ribs. I see you were treated for second-degree burns on the torso. No fever?” He felt Clay’s forehead.

  “No, sir,” Clay answered. “I’m feeling great.” Good enough, anyway. He’d lost a day in Iraq, and two days since he’d arrived in Virginia. He was itching to get back to active duty.

  “I’d say a week, maybe ten days for the ribs to heal.”

  “A week! Come on, Doc, I feel fine.”

  The doctor scowled. “The head trauma alone is enough for me to bench you for two weeks.”

  Two weeks’ medical leave? He’d go crazy.

  As he headed over to his apartment, he reminded himself that he’d been lucky to come out of it with only a couple of burns and a few cracked ribs. So why didn’t he feel lucky?

  After waking up at the hospital at Kirkuk Regional Air Base, Clay had no memory of the night of the raid. But the last time he’d woken up in a hospital bed, Gabby had been clutching his hand.

  Maybe it’d just been the long night on pain meds, but he’d wanted to see her one more time. And fix things with her. He just needed closure. Didn’t like leaving things on such a bad note was all.

  His sister had tried to contact him, but there’d been no calls or texts from Gabby. He’d texted Neil for an update on the Swiss investigation, but he put off listening to the numerous messages from his sister until he got stateside.