Code Name_War 0f Stones

by Natasza Waters

  Err, not a good plan, but her curiosity bubbled, and although it usually got her into trouble, she said, “Sure. I’ll go change. Help yourself to a chair.” Although she put a little gallop into her step to get behind the kitchen counter, she didn’t quite make it, and she knew it when she heard a low chuckle. “Be right back.”

  * * * *

  Nice apartment, Damon thought, looking around. Nicer ass, though. One sweet, beautiful ass, by the looks of it, and he wouldn’t be dismissing it from his mind any time soon.

  Sloane disappeared down the hallway, calling out, “I just put on some coffee.”

  The sound of voices met his finely tuned ears. A woman and a man’s. Was he interrupting? Shit. He’d checked with a couple of the team guys who’d told him she was single.

  Within a blink, she was back, dressed in a white tank and a pair of thigh-hugging beige leggings.

  “So—coffee, or I could make tea, if you prefer?” Sloane asked reappearing.

  The woman radiated some kind of heady energy, one that had him sitting at her kitchen table, not really knowing what he wanted to say other than sorry, but he didn’t have to come in for that. “Coffee’s good. Haven’t had one yet today.”

  He watched her move around the kitchen with efficiency, pulling a mug first and a cup and saucer from her cupboard. She didn’t stop there, drawing open the door to her fridge.

  The view was pretty nice from where he sat. He had to be nuts, thinking she would even accept his apology after the way he went at her the other day. He’d been in trainer mode, but it was no excuse for thrashing her like he had. When she’d stared up at him, seemingly unaffected by his rant, with those huge, brown eyes and long dark lashes, it mollified him instantly.

  So here he was, about to make an ass out of himself again, but in another way.

  “Have you had breakfast?” she asked, crouched over the fridge’s lower bin, giving him an inquisitive smile across her shoulder.

  “No, but—”

  A guy appeared from the hallway, pulling a shirt over his head.

  “Hey, baby. I gotta run. Got a lunch appointment,” the tall blond said, drawing Sloane into his arms.

  Damon only saw the guy from the back, but something rang familiar about him.

  “I’m sure you do.” Sloane turned a cheek to him instead of allowing a full-on lip-lock, which the guy obviously wanted.

  The blond gave her cheek a big, smacking kiss. “How about fifty percent off next time?” he teased.

  She snorted and turned away. “Yeah, right. I think you should be paying me.”

  The guy laughed and gave her a quick squeeze. “Think you’re right,” he growled into her ear. “How about a two for one sale, and you’re already anted-up? Call me—soon.”

  The guy gave her another kiss and then stopped, finally seeing Damon. “Oh, hey.” The guy blinked. “Hell, Lieutenant Stone?”

  A SEAL. Figured! Ex-SEAL. “Randy Washington. Where the hell did you get to?”

  Damon knew the answer already, which perked his interest even more. What was he doing with Sloane? Unless—nah.

  “Been around,” Randy said, thrusting out a hand to shake.

  “Looks like you’re keeping well,” he acknowledged. “Still—in business for yourself?” Christ, business? Rumor was the guy had turned into a high-priced escort for rich women.

  Avoiding a direct answer, Randy said, “I gotta run. Nice seeing you again, Lieutenant.” The SEAL turned boy toy turned to give Sloane a wink but must have decided it wasn’t good enough and strolled back to her. “Seriously. Call me.” He nuzzled her ear, whispering something.

  “Get going,” she ordered and broke into a sweet laugh.

  A whimsical smile tightened her lips as she watched Randy leave her apartment.

  When the door closed, she put her attention back on him. “This way, Lieutenant,” she said, carrying a tray in her hands. “Let’s have coffee on the balcony. It’s such a beautiful morning.”

  I bet. The woman looked well-loved, and an unfamiliar pang pinched his gut.

  Damon followed her out to a reasonably big balcony. Most were the size of a postage stamp in San Diego. “How long have you lived here?”

  “About a month, since I transferred here. It belongs to my parents. My mom bought it when she first arrived in Coronado, and they kept it for an investment. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  She came and went, setting more food on the table with each trip. The third time she disappeared for a little longer then returned, carrying two plates with a mouthwatering quesadilla on each, filled with eggs, cheese, and peppers, sprinkled with salsa and sour cream.

  “Wow, and I didn’t even earn it,” he muttered still pondering what Washington had been doing here.

  “I’m starving,” she said, sitting across from him.

  He cleared his throat and his mind as to what had made her hungry. She was a little spit of a woman, no more than five-five to his six-four. A silky mop of long, dark brunette hair framed her face and dropped to just past her shoulders. Seeing Sloane close-up for the second time confirmed how gorgeous she was, not that Damon had missed it the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

  He and his family had a lot to deal with this week, but Sloane often strolled into his thoughts enough to know he had to do something about it.

  It had taken him all of five minutes to find out who she was, after he’d gathered up his senses, which had been shattered to bits when she’d slipped the note into his hand. He’d felt like a total fucking heel when she abruptly turned away from him that morning, but not quick enough, because he’d seen the tears well in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it had been the stripping down he’d given her or empathy for him. He guessed the latter.

  “You’re the last guy I’d expect on my doorstep.” Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “You’re not going to bullhorn me again, are you? I think I got the message last time.” She grinned to show she wasn’t all that concerned.

  Setting his mug down, relieved she hadn’t given him the fine ceramic cup and saucer set she drank from, he said, “I wanted to apologize. I was way out of line. It kept bothering me, and—”

  “A SEAL with a conscience. No worries, Lieutenant. I’m used to it.” She leaned forward. “You were just doing your job, correct?”

  She was used to an overbearing, idiotic asshole yelling in her face? “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t start with the ma’am stuff. I’m not an officer—yet.” Sloane settled back and cocked her head at him. “Thank you, but an apology isn’t necessary. How’s your breakfast?”

  “Fantastic.” He hated cooking and would never refuse a home cooked meal. Nor did he miss his roommate’s lousy talents in the kitchen. Kevin was a great guy, his swim buddy from BUD/s, but he was no Wolfgang Puck.

  He and Kevin leased a house, which was party central most weekends. Damon cleared out early this morning, not able to stomach the shrill cries and moans coming from Kevin’s conquest from last night. The woman was a screamer, and it grated his nerves.

  Cutting into the quesadilla for another bite, he closed his eyes while his taste buds savored the flavor. “Think I should drop by at this time more often.” The thought of making Sloane eggs benny in the morning—after spending the night—crossed his mind. Jesus, stand down SEAL. “When did you enlist?”

  She nodded, chewing a mouthful of brie and grapes. “Six months ago. I couldn’t stand the harassment any more. I have a business degree, but when I didn’t know what to do with it, I started getting the gears from my family and my extended family.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, watching her pink lips slide over a slice of peach. The succulent juice coating her mouth forced him into some harsh inner dialogue with his dick.

  “My entire family’s Navy. My mom worked at Base Command before she married my dad. My brother’s a SEAL in Little Creek, and my dad is retired Navy. Then I’ve got an entire squad of pseudo uncles and aunts who kept needling
me. I caved.”

  The wheels began to grind together in his brain. Her last name was Austen. Adam Austen was a SEAL stationed in Little Creek. Could that be her brother? On Damon’s last mission, they’d teamed up with DEVGRU from the east coast. He’d met the young man on his first mission after qaul training.

  And there was also a…hell! “You’re not related to Admiral Thane Austen, are you?”

  “Retired, Admiral Austen,” she corrected. “That’s my father.”

  Damon watched as she brought the cup to her lips and took a leisurely sip, but those eyes of hers kept him in a daze, the depth of them mesmerizing him.

  “I met your father once,” he said. “He’s an icon with the SEALs. I know your brother, too, if his name’s Adam?”

  “Correct, Lieutenant, and Dad is just…” She shrugged. “Dad, to us. He blusters a lot, but he’s calming down with age.” She shook her delicious head of hair. “How are you doing? You just lost your mom.”

  “Not an easy thing to see. She battled cancer for over a year. Dad’s in shock, even though he knew it was coming. My siblings and I take turns checking up on him.”

  Without a second’s pause, Sloane reached across the table and covered his hand. It wasn’t a come-on, just a gesture of warmth. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it sounds like you have lots of family support.”

  An odd twinge in his stomach and the concern in her eyes made him want to stop her hand from retreating. “I don’t understand why you didn’t ram that note in my hand and hightail it out of there. I’ve seen those messages delivered before. No one ever takes the time to…well, you know, say anything.”

  Sloane lifted her brows in surprise. “It’s not the kind of message that deserves to be delivered on a piece of paper. I don’t work that way.”

  She truly was a sweetheart. Sloane didn’t hold a grudge, and he deserved one. Instead, she invited him into her home and fed him.

  His mind flitted back to the boy toy. “Can I ask how you know Randy? It’s none of my business, but—”

  Her gaze fluttered past the patio glass doors toward the living room as she bit down on a smile. “I hired him.”

  Damon choked on his coffee, sucking half the cup into his lungs.

  “You’re shocked. Don’t be. Men don’t ask me out on dates. At least, not the ones I want to ask me. I gave up bringing men home because Dad scares the shit out of them, and the gutless turds are halfway down the road before I close the front door.”

  His eyes were still watering when he stammered—yeah, he actually stammered he was so stunned. “Hard to believe men don’t ask you out.”

  “They’re either knuckleheads, weirdoes, creepers, or nerds. At least I get to choose this way.”

  “Does your family know?” he blurted. Fuck, had he really said that?

  “No, Lieutenant. I don’t usually share my sexual encounters with my parents. Do you?”

  A vibrant fire burned in this beautiful woman. Considering whether he should keep talking or play it safe and glue his lips together, he gazed at her.

  “You’re looking at me like I’m the swamp thing. I’m sorry if it’s distasteful to you. Masturbating is great in a crunch, but—”

  He held his hand up to stop her. Something was about to pop, and he was pretty sure it was his fly. His wicked mind jumped to conclusions he had no business mapping out in his mind.

  Obviously, his sexual recess was an issue. He’d cut himself off from women because of the last crazy bitch he’d picked up on a guys’ night out four months ago.

  After their quick and barely satisfying fling between the sheets, the woman started hanging around the gates of the base, waiting for him to get off work, or popping up on the beach when he had recruits out for PT and small boat exercises.

  Women had suddenly become the mortal enemy to him. It pissed Damon off, because he caught himself looking over his shoulder like he was on a sneak and peek mission all the time.

  Maybe that’s why he’d let loose on Sloane when she’d approached on the Grinder in the middle of the exercise. He’d had it with that crazy bitch stalking him, but he’d taken it out on the wrong woman.

  Now he felt twice as bad.

  “No, not distasteful,” he managed to get out and then cleared his throat again. “Just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Why not? I save up, and then I call Randy. We have a night of hot—”

  He shot his hand up for the second time. He didn’t want any details, especially when it came to Randy. He was a good SEAL but had packed it in. Damon heard Randy had done it for his girlfriend who couldn’t handle the stress of separation. Except when he’d resigned, the gal dumped him. Instead of joining back up, Randy opted for the crazy scheme of screwing women for money as a better alternative.

  Many a good relationship had fallen in the ditch because of their profession as a SEAL. A few had endured. What made it work, Damon had no idea. He always believed he’d be a bachelor for life. In fact, he was sure of it. There were plenty of women to ease the need without matrimony.

  “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?” Her doe eyes widened, and her cheeks tinged with color.

  “You don’t have to pay for it, believe me.” Not the wisest words out of his mouth this morning, but there they were, floating between them.

  “Oh.”

  That short, cool “oh” said a lot. He’d come this far and SEALs didn’t quit. “I actually came to ask you out for dinner. To make amends.”

  He ran a hand over his short strands of hair and gazed at her. Waiting for an answer, his stomach knotted.

  A tight smile pinned itself to her lips. “I work on the base. You work on the base. I don’t date men from the base.”

  There was more to that than she was willing to say. “You don’t date guys in the forces is what you’re saying?”

  “I don’t date SEALs,” she corrected.

  Women like Sloane knew the difference between the romanticized life of Special Warfare and the nitty gritty of reality. “I’m non-combat,” he reminded her.

  “A SEAL is always a SEAL.”

  “True, but I’m more like a teacher.”

  “Potato, po-tah-toe,” she voiced.

  He couldn’t help but grin. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I just want to apologize.”

  She looked at him warily. “You apologized. That’s enough.” She picked up his empty plate. He followed with hers then set it in the sink. Without pause, she headed to the door and held it open. “It was nice having breakfast with you, Lieutenant.”

  Damon quirked one brow at her. “Are you in a hurry?”

  She was practically shoving him out the door, now that she knew he had an ulterior motive rather than an apology, but he could take a hint. He didn’t want to—but he understood her misgivings. She wasn’t a stupid woman, and he’d bet his next paycheck she was feeling the chemistry between them, because he sure the hell was.

  Her phone rang, and she swept it up. “Hello.” Sloane’s eyes lit up. “Hiya, Dad.” Her beautiful lips spread into a grin. “Just having breakfast.” She paused. “With a SEAL.”

  She yanked the phone away from her ear and muffled a laugh.

  Even Damon could hear the Admiral blustering from a few feet away. She was probably the only person brave enough to taunt a man like Austen.

  Sloane rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip to stop from laughing. “No, Dad, I didn’t sleep with him. At least not this one.” She yanked the phone away again, and her laugh sounded like pure wicked sweetness. “Aw, Dad. Now you know I wouldn’t do that. I paid for it instead.”

  She popped her brows at him. Holy hell, this woman was naughty in the cutest way possible. His heart squeezed tight.

  “Dad, stop blustering. Tell Mom I’ll be over in an hour. I’m gonna stop by and pick Kelsey up on the way. I just have to wash off the man sweat first. Love ya, Daddy. See ya so
on.”

  Sloane disconnected. Still chuckling, she fluttered her hand to shoo him to the other side of the threshold.

  “Which am I, a creeper or a weirdo?” he asked, trying to stall.

  “Neither. You’re a no-good SEAL.”

  The woman had great aim at a guy’s pride. But she hadn’t said it with disdain, more a teasing, gentle shove off.

  “I’m harmless, I assure you.” He launched an appealing look, but she dropped it like a paper airplane shot out of the air by a water gun. “You seem to be in a rush to get rid of me.”

  “Not exactly, but all this talk about sex has me needing a release.” And she closed the door in his face.

  A growl of need rolled straight up from his erection and out his mouth. He should have said, I can help you with that, but he clamped his lips and trudged down the hallway with all sorts of crazy thoughts in his head.

  They would both be masturbating today. The only difference, Damon would be thinking of a small, sassy brunette by the name of Sloane.

  God, Sloane Austen. Her brother was already well respected. Her father, Admiral Austen, was a legend. He’d retired a while back, but no one forgot the name. Even her mother had been famous, but he couldn’t remember why.

  If there was royalty amongst SEALs, this family reigned near the top. Damon could imagine what her father would be like when it came to his daughter. The man the SEALs called Ghost, had been deadly in combat. Protecting his daughter would mean certain death to any guy.

  Maybe he’d better push the beauty with olive skin and eyes so expressive it made him want to stare at her for hours, to the “don’t-be-an-idiot” list and forget her. Problem was, he could already imagine Sloane’s warm skin against his.

  Forget her—yeah, right. Damon wore a hard-on the size of the Empire State Building!

  Walking down the hall, he rubbed his chest. What the hell was that crazy tightness? Maybe he better lay off the coffee.

  Chapter Three

  Sloane joined the girls from her department for some Friday night refreshments at Breakers, a favorite pub populated by base staff. She loved the outdoor patio built over the water. During the summer, the ocean breeze swept across the old maple tables, scarred with the years of service they provided to Coronado. Her mom told her when she’d checked out at Base Command, she and Team One Alpha Squad had put a few back to celebrate. Apparently, Sloane’s dad had walked her mom to the bus stop to protect her from the serial killer called the Blood Shark who’d terrorized women for over a year back in twenty-thirteen.