Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  “I’m going to call 911 first.”

  His jaw hardened as he sluiced back his wet hair, beginning to curl at the ends. With a pair of broad shoulders and washboard abs that tapered to the wet suit peeled down to his slim hips, he looked like Triton or at least some sexy merman. Then he opened his mouth.

  “No, you’re not. We need to get out of here. Now.”

  Sounded like he knew his enemies well. Who was she to argue? She tossed her backpack in the backseat and started the car. “You’re right. Those guys seemed determined.”

  A breath hitched in her throat. Maybe they were determined because they were cops or the Coast Guard, but would they start shooting into a bank of fog after she screamed without even shouting out a warning? Experience had taught her they just might. Her father had taught her to never trust the law.

  Her gaze slid to the knife resting on the man’s powerful thigh encased in black neoprene. She didn’t have a choice right now anyway, but his reaction to her call to 911 would tell her a lot.

  As she accelerated out of the beach parking lot, she scooped her cell phone from her lap where she’d dropped it and flipped it open. She’d pressed Nine before the man beside her snatched the phone from her hand.

  “You can’t call the cops.” He cradled the phone in his palm and snapped it shut.

  Amy clung to the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? F-for witnessing that murder.”

  He tossed the phone into the backseat and let out a ragged breath. Squeezing her bare thigh with his long fingers, he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, beach girl. I’m sorry you’re scared.”

  If he meant to soothe her with his gentle touch on her leg, it sent a ripple of fear across her skin instead. Did he plan to rape her before he murdered her?

  Amy swallowed. He seemed like a fairly reasonable lunatic. Maybe she could use logic on him. “Why can’t I call 911? The operator can alert the Coast Guard and go after the…the bad guys. You could be long gone by the time they picked them up, and I swear I won’t tell them anything about you.”

  “You wouldn’t be a very good lifeguard if you did that, would you?” He clicked his tongue as he rummaged through her glove compartment. He pulled out her registration and peered at it. “You can call the cops when you get home. By that time, I will be long gone and so will that dead body on the beach.”

  Her heart did a somersault in her chest. “When I get home?”

  He flicked the paper registration with his finger. “Yeah. Drive back to your place and I’ll disappear in a puff of smoke or more likely a blanket of fog.”

  When she’d pulled out of the beach parking lot, she’d headed in the general direction of her house since he hadn’t given her any orders about where to go. Would he really let her just go home and then call the authorities after he left without hurting her?

  He was right about her responsibilities as a lifeguard. She’d have to report him and give the cops as good a description as she could. She gave him a sidelong glance—over six feet tall, muscular build, a wild, tawny mane of hair that brushed his shoulders, piercing blue eyes.

  She’d have to scale back on the admiration of his masculine good looks when she gave her description to the cops or they’d think she’d fallen prey to that Stockholm syndrome where victims fell for their captors.

  He glanced at the registration again before shoving it back into her glove compartment. “You live close, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re almost there.” She gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands as another thought slammed against her like a sledgehammer. He’d retrieved her registration to see her address. She did not want this dangerous man in her house, but now he knew her address. “My husband, who’s six foot five and very jealous, will be home, too.”

  He snorted. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Can’t I just drop you off somewhere? Why do you have to come to my house with me?”

  “Just want to see you home safely.” He brushed some sand off the leg of his wet suit. “Is there a work schedule posted in the tower listing the shifts for the guards?”

  “N-no.”

  “I suppose the main station wouldn’t give out the guards’ names if someone called making inquiries about which guards are working which beaches?”

  Her clammy grasp on the wheel got tighter. “Of course not. What are you driving at? Do you think those people in the boat will try to find out who I am?”

  He lifted a shoulder, which touched the ends of his wet hair. “If they can, but it doesn’t sound like they’re going to be successful.”

  “What if they come back to that beach, that tower, looking for me? Today was my last day for the summer, but I left everything wide open back there. I’m going to have to return to close up properly.”

  Was he playing her to make her fear the men in the boat more than she feared him? The dying man had choked her, and the guys in the boat had shot at her. This one hadn’t lifted a finger against her. In fact, he’d protected her from the other attacks.

  “I don’t think they’d do that.” But two lines formed a deep crevice between his eyebrows. “They’d have difficulty finding the beach again, and there are plenty of lifeguard towers up and down the coast.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know about that. Imperial Beach is one of the southernmost beaches in San Diego County before you hit the Mexican border.”

  “Request a transfer. They’re not going to find you.”

  “They’re not going to find me anyway.” She rolled her tight shoulders. “I already told you. I’m done for the season since I only work summers. Today was my last shift.”

  He patted her leg again. “That’s good to hear. And don’t return. Let someone else lock up. What’s your name anyway?”

  “Amy.” She gasped and covered her mouth. How had this man lured her into such a state of naive stupidity so quickly? Next she’d be giving him her social security number. She jerked her leg, dislodging his hand.

  He had the nerve to laugh.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to use your first name against you, and I can just reach in the glove compartment to find out the rest if I want.” He combed his fingers through tangled hair. “And just so we’re even, I’m going to tell you my first name, too. It’s Riley.”

  “Riley.” The name rolled off her tongue. Riley didn’t seem too concerned about the cops knowing his name. Did he think just because he had a friendly, non-threatening demeanor and a gorgeous body she wasn’t going to report this?

  Even though Amy had an innate distrust of authority, Riley had placed his confidence in the wrong woman. She’d had it in for all men since she’d discovered the guy she’d been dating for two months had a wife. Scumbag.

  She rounded the corner of her block and pulled up to the curb in front of her rental house. She cut the engine and dropped her hands in her lap. “You can get out now. Although how you think you’re going to be inconspicuous roaming around in a full-body wet suit is beyond me.”

  “Thanks for caring.” A boyish grin claimed his face. “I have trunks on underneath—just another surfer.”

  “Just another surfer carrying a knife.”

  She shouldn’t have reminded him.

  His fingers curled around the handle and he said, “Let’s go inside to make sure everything’s okay.”

  Tension knotted her shoulders again as she climbed out of the car, groping for her backpack in the backseat. She wouldn’t be able to breathe easily until Riley left the premises and she had 911 on the line.

  It took her three tries to insert her key into the dead bolt with Riley standing behind her, the heat from his body warming her bare back. And then she didn’t even need to unlock the dead bolt—she must’ve left it unlocked when she took off this afternoon. She shoved the key into the handle, turning the knob and pushing open the door.

  Riley stepped in front of her, tucking her behind his broad frame. “Everything look okay?�
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  “How can I tell? I’m staring at your back.” Her nose practically touched the cool, smooth skin between his shoulder blades.

  Riley stalked to the center of the small living room, dwarfing it with his take-control presence. Amy shifted her gaze around the objects of the room, her pulse quickening when she spotted a book on the floor by the coffee table. Her cat, Clarence, probably knocked that over before he took off for his pre-dinner prowl.

  “I’m going to have a look in the back rooms.” Riley pointed to the short hallway, gripping the knife in front of him.

  Amy crept toward the book and crouched to retrieve it from the floor. She glanced toward the entry that led to the kitchen and then tilted her head back to peer at Riley disappearing into the bathroom, knife still drawn.

  She could make a run for the portable phone in the kitchen and slip out the back, maybe bang on her neighbor’s door for help. Riley would probably take off, and she’d be safe.

  Launching to her feet, she hurtled toward the kitchen. Just inside the entryway, she tripped over a soft object splayed across the floor. Yelping, she thudded against the linoleum. She scrambled to her hands and knees and spun around.

  A sour knot of fear lodged in her throat as her gaze skidded across the deathly still form of her ex-boyfriend.

  Chapter Two

  A shriek sliced through the small house, and Riley barreled out the bathroom door, stubbing his toe on the frame. He gripped the knife at his side, ready to do battle. Careening through the empty living room, he launched toward the entryway to what had to be the kitchen. He stopped short, almost falling into the room and over a body on the floor.

  Amy huddled against the cabinets, her hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes forming huge, coffee-colored saucers. A man sprawled across the faded yellow linoleum on his back, one perfectly shined loafer hanging from his toes, and his legs in pressed slacks crossed one over the other. Looked like he could be taking a nap on the kitchen floor.

  Riley squatted beside the man, noting a red blotch on his right cheek, and extended two fingers toward his neck to check his pulse.

  Amy screamed, “Don’t touch him.”

  God, he must’ve been a friend or relative of Amy’s. Boyfriend? His gaze flew to her face, drained of all color beneath her mocha skin. “Who is he?”

  “Carlos…my ex-boyfriend.” She mumbled through her fingers, which seemed frozen in place.

  Very ex-boyfriend from the look of him. Riley stepped over the body and kneeled beside Amy. “We need to get out of here.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I can’t tell. I don’t see any blood, just a contusion on his face. Maybe someone strangled him or hit him on the back of the head.” He turned back toward the body. “I can turn him…”

  “No.” She sobbed, curling into a tight ball. “We need to call the police.”

  “You don’t get it, Amy. Somehow those guys in the boat tracked you down to your house. Carlos must’ve surprised them. They probably came at him from behind and strangled him or hit him. Carlos’s presence spooked them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

  “That’s why we call the police.” She scooted to her left to avoid Carlos’s outstretched hand.

  Riley rubbed his chin with his knuckles. He was flying so far below the radar of the police right now he couldn’t afford to have them question him at a murder scene. Hell, he was flying below the radar of the CIA.

  “The police can’t protect you.” He left the rest of that statement hanging in the air between them. Only he could protect her now, and he didn’t need the en cumbrance.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t dispute his claim.

  “Who are these people? Who are you?”

  “The less you know, the better.” Not that he knew much himself. When the call had come from Colonel Scripps, the former leader of the undercover ops unit, Prospero, Riley had jumped into action. Jack Coburn, one of their own, had disappeared.

  Riley would go through hell and back to find him.

  He cupped his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, beach girl. Let’s go.”

  Amy’s gaze traveled from his hand to his face. She must’ve seen something she liked because she sighed and pushed to her feet. He helped her over the body of her ex-boyfriend. Feeling a tremble roll through her athletic frame, Riley pulled her close and folded his arms around her.

  She stiffened in his embrace and then buried her face against his bare chest as sobs wracked her body. He stroked her dark hair, clumped in wet tangles of salt water.

  Rubbing her nose, she stepped back from him and pinched her swimsuit between two fingers, yanking it forward. “Do I have time to change, or…or do you think we should get out now?”

  “I don’t think they’ll be returning to the scene of the crime immediately.” Riley crossed the room and lifted the curtains of the front window with the tip of his knife. He’d prefer a gun, but he couldn’t have taken one of those with him. “They might be out there now, watching, waiting, wondering if we’ll call the police.”

  She called from the bedroom. “I’m wondering the same thing. We can’t just leave him there on the kitchen floor. H-he has a wife.”

  Riley swallowed. The beach girl liked married men? He cleared his throat. “We’ll call the police as soon as we’re out of here.”

  “Wait a minute.” She stumbled from the bedroom in a pair of jeans, pulling a T-shirt over her head. He caught a glimpse of a lacy white bra. “Won’t that look suspicious? There’s a dead man in my house, and I’m not even here.”

  “I’ll clear things up for you later. You’re not safe in this house.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she hooked a finger along the gold chain around her neck, pulling a large locket out of her T-shirt. “You’re not safe in this house. For whatever reason, you don’t want the cops to find out about your activities. And why would you? You murdered a man on the beach and you kidnapped me.”

  Frustration gave an edge to his voice as he jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “I didn’t murder him. Don’t you get it? They discovered your identity and came after you.”

  “They came after you.” She hugged herself and rubbed her upper arms. “They probably figured you used me to escape. That’s why they came to this house and killed Carlos. Once you get away from me, I’ll be safe.”

  Too bad his wife hadn’t figured that one out.

  Pain sliced behind his eyes, and he ran a hand over his hair, clasping it in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “You’re in it, Amy, whether you want to be or not. These people don’t leave loose ends.”

  “I’m not a loose end.” She widened her stance and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I didn’t see those people. I don’t know who they are. But I know who you are.”

  Damn. She didn’t trust him. And why would she? He didn’t trust himself to protect her either.

  He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Could he leave her here? He’d take off for his safe house, and she could stay here and call the cops. She’d tell her wild story of one scuba diver killing another and people shooting at them from a boat. But there would be no body. There would be no blood. No bullets. No evidence at all.

  The Velasquez Drug Cartel didn’t leave evidence. Or witnesses.

  Even if the cops believed Amy’s fantastic story, they couldn’t do much to protect her. If the Velasquez gang decided to kill her, the cops couldn’t stop them.

  Or maybe he’d overreacted from the get-go. From the minute she’d valiantly pulled his enemy’s body from the ocean, Riley had felt protective of her. She’d only been doing her job and had landed in the middle of an international intrigue.

  If he distanced himself from her now, it just might save her life. He was dangerous company.

  “Okay.” Riley blew out a long breath. “I’ll stay with you until the cops arrive, and then I’ll head out the back door.”

  “Really?” Her voice squeaked and her eyebrows shot up.
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  “Really.” He tugged at the wet suit around his waist and peeled it off his body, standing on one foot at a time to free his legs from the constricting neoprene. “What are you going to tell the police?”

  Her gaze raked his body as her chest rose and fell. “The truth.”

  “The guys on the boat will have removed the body of their comrade and my scuba gear from the beach by now.” He nudged the wet suit lying in a twisted heap on the carpet. “I can leave this here if you think it will bolster your story.”

  “Why would I need to bolster my story?” She dragged her gaze from his wet trunks, meeting his eyes, a pleasing shade of pink washing over her cheeks.

  The beach girl had been checking him out. And he liked it.

  Riley’s fingers plowed through his long hair. “You plan to report a murder on the beach with no body. Your ex-boyfriend is dead on your kitchen floor with no signs of a struggle or break-in. Why is he your ex? Bad breakup?”

  “No. Yes.” She folded her arms across her stomach. “He lied to me about being married.”

  Riley whistled through his teeth. “Do you have a history of violence?”

  “Not yet.” Amy clenched her fists and took a step toward him.

  “I’m just sayin’.” A strange sense of relief flooded his veins. He knew a valiant woman like Amy wouldn’t knowingly get mixed up with a married man.

  “Do you think they’ll suspect me of murdering Carlos? I’m pretty strong, but not strong enough to strangle a man. I broke it off as soon as I discovered his marital status. Why would I kill him and then call the cops? It would look much worse if I ran out now, wouldn’t it?”

  She covered her face with her hands, and guilt stabbed his belly. He didn’t want her to feel worse. He wanted to smooth everything over and make sure she kept safe after he left.

  He tripped over the wet suit as he rushed to her side and curled an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. Her T-shirt felt soft against his bare chest, brushing a tingle of desire along his skin.

  Her salty hair tickled his lips as he spoke. “Just tell the truth. You’ll be fine. There’s no evidence that you killed Carlos even if the police find your story unbelievable.”