Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  “C-can’t you stay and talk to the cops with me?” She clutched his arm, her nails digging into his skin.

  “I wish I could help you out, beach girl, but I can’t afford the time if they decide to arrest me.” He couldn’t afford the exposure either. Having his picture splashed all over the newspapers in connection with two murders would torpedo any chance he’d have to follow his lead on the Velasquez Cartel and any of its customers.

  And right now the Velasquez lead was the only thread they had in connection with Jack Coburn’s disappearance.

  Amy took a shaky breath and stepped back. “You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’d better get ready to leave so I can call 911. I can’t bear to be here with Carlos like that.” Her bottom lip quivered, and her dark eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

  Riley cupped her face with one hand, smoothing the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. “I’m sorry about Carlos. What do you think he was doing here?”

  At his touch, she’d closed her eyes, but now her eyelids flew open, droplets of tears trembling on the edges of her long lashes. “Huh?”

  “Carlos. Why was he in your house and how did he get in? Did you give him a key?”

  “I gave him a key once to feed my cat when I was gone for the weekend. But he gave it back to me.”

  “He made a copy.”

  Her eyes widened. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Really? The man entered your home while you were at work. I thought you broke up with him a few months ago?”

  “I did.” She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans.

  “Did he contact you after the breakup?”

  “A few times but…” Her arms flailed at her sides.

  “Face it, Amy. The guy never got over you. He probably came here hoping he could change your mind. Didn’t work out too well for him.”

  She dug her fists in her hips. “The back door is in the kitchen. You can leave before the cops get here.”

  “If he made a copy of your key, it’s probably still in his pocket. Do you want me to take it?”

  “So you can have a key to my place? No, thanks. Why would I want you to take the key? I don’t want to disturb a crime scene.”

  “Too late for that. You changed clothing and you didn’t notify the police as soon as you discovered the body.” He shrugged. “I’m just thinking it might look better for you if the dead ex-boyfriend didn’t still have a key to your house.”

  “Okay. You know what?” She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the kitchen. “There’s the back door. Use it.”

  Instead he crouched next to the body and slid his hand into the front pocket of the man’s expensive slacks. His nostrils flared at the sweet scent emanating from his clothing. Carlos liked his cologne strong.

  Nothing in that pocket except a few bills. Riley reached for the other pocket, but he didn’t have to go digging. Carlos’s keychain was on the floor by the pocket. Riley’s fingers closed around the silver ring and he dangled it from his index finger.

  “Is this your key?” A removable ring was hanging from the main keychain, and he shook it in front of Amy’s face.

  “It could be. What difference does it make? Now you’ve corrupted the crime scene even more. Put it back and get out, and maybe you should leave some more of your fingerprints around here so the cops can identify you… Riley…if that’s even your name.”

  “I didn’t touch anything in here.” He twirled the keychain around his finger. “Except you.”

  Amy’s eyes glittered, shooting gold sparks, but a soft rose color swept across her cheeks. Stepping behind him to avoid the body on the floor, she grabbed the knob to the back door. She turned quickly, her hair whipping across his chest. “What will you do for clothes?”

  Still clutching the keychain, Riley adjusted the waistband of his board shorts while her gaze tracked his movements feeling like a whisper of fingertips. “We’re a mile from the beach—nothing unusual about someone walking around in swim trunks. If you give me a couple of bucks for the bus, that would make my life a lot easier.”

  “Gladly.” She slipped past him and snagged her backpack from the coffee table where she’d dropped it. She groped inside a side compartment and gasped. “My wallet.”

  “It’s gone?”

  “It must’ve fallen out in the sand when I grabbed my pack from the tower.”

  “That explains how the bad guys found you.”

  “But how’d they get here so fast?” She hugged the backpack to her chest.

  “The men who killed Carlos aren’t the same men who shot at us on the beach. This is an organization, not a few petty crooks.”

  She swayed and he caught her. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out of here with me?” Riley asked.

  “No. I want to call the police. Th-they’ll keep me safe.”

  Even she didn’t sound like she believed that. If Amy expected the San Diego Sheriff’s Department to put a twenty-four-hour guard on her, she didn’t understand how police departments operated. That would happen only if they arrested her for the murder of her ex.

  Riley could protect her. He knew the danger she faced, but he couldn’t drag her out of her house if she didn’t want to go. And she clearly didn’t want to go.

  He brushed her knotted hair from her face. “Okay, beach girl. You call the cops and stay safe.”

  “Hold on.” She spun around and rummaged through a purse on the desk by the front window. She withdrew her hand, clutching several bills between her fingers. “Take this. And you stay safe, too.”

  His hand covered hers and he drew her close. She smelled like the sea, tangy and fresh. He had bent his head to brush her lips with his when a movement outside the window caught his attention.

  With a grunt, Riley threw both of his arms around Amy. As they tumbled to the floor, she opened her mouth to scream. He clapped his hand across her lips for the second time that day.

  Chapter Three

  He’d fooled her. He planned to kill her and had just been stringing her along for his sadistic pleasure.

  She was batting a thousand—a married man and now a killer.

  Riley brushed her ear with a whisper. “They’re outside.”

  His words sent a river of chills down her spine, and she reflexively dug her nails into his back.

  “Stay low.” Riley heaved to a crouching position and tugged at the waistband of her jeans. “Let’s go out the back.”

  Amy slid across the floor on her belly, twisting her head toward the front window. Adrenaline charged through her body when she saw the outline of a gun.

  She wriggled faster, like a snake shedding its skin. When she reached the kitchen, she gagged at the sight of Carlos on the floor.

  Riley rose to his haunches. “Get the back door.”

  Turning the knob, she eased open the door, scooping in deep breaths of fresh air. Riley bumped her outside and told her to close the door behind them. He really didn’t want to leave any fingerprints in her house.

  She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the small backyard. “This way.”

  They dashed across the lawn, the wet grass sticking to her feet in their flimsy flip-flops. Riley cinched her around the waist and hoisted her up the fence. She clambered over and fell into her neighbor’s yard. Riley swooped over the fence after her.

  “Let’s keep running and hope we don’t meet a dog.”

  She yanked on the hem of his board shorts. “Do you still have those keys you took out of Carlos’s pocket?”

  He patted his own pocket. “Yep.”

  “He used to park his car on the side street. We can get to it from here without going to the front of the house.”

  “You’re brilliant, beach girl.” He grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her forehead.

  Not exactly the kiss she’d anticipated in the house, but it would do—for now.

  They crouched at the side of the house b
ehind hers, then charged through the gate, stumbling into her neighbor’s front yard.

  “This street.” She pointed to the left and they hit the sidewalk running. Two kids playing basketball with a garage hoop looked up and snickered as they jogged by.

  They reached the corner and Riley held her back. “Hang on.”

  He peered both ways down the street. “It’s clear. Which car is his?”

  She pointed to Carlos’s black BMW parked at the curb. When they’d dated, she’d always wondered why he’d preferred to park his car on the street around the corner from her house. He’d told her there was less traffic on this street, and he’d wanted to protect his car. He’d really wanted to protect himself.

  Guess that hadn’t worked out for him today.

  “On the count of three, sprint for the car.” Riley held up the keys. “I won’t hit the remote until we get there…just in case they’re closer than we think.”

  Amy kicked off her flip-flops and scooped them up from the sidewalk with one hand. Holding her breath, she waited for Riley’s signal. At three, she shot off as if she was heading into the ocean for a rescue.

  The car alarm beeped once, and she grabbed the handle and dropped onto the leather seat. Before she closed the door, the car lurched forward and Riley careened around the corner. Panting, Amy twisted in her seat. No headlights followed them.

  She snapped on her seat belt and leaned against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Where to?”

  “I can drop you off at the police station or at least down the block from the police station. Then you can report everything, and they’ll come back to the house with you. Those men won’t try anything with the cops there.”

  She stuffed her feet into her flip-flops. “What about when the cops leave?”

  “Can you stay with someone for a few days until this blows over? Chances are once Carlos’s killers realize you don’t know anything, and you keep your distance from me, they’ll leave you alone.”

  “Chances are?” She gripped the edge of the seat, her damp hands slipping off the leather.

  “Those boys have bigger fish to fry to risk going after a witness who may or may not even be a witness.”

  “All right then. Take me to the police station.” She knotted her fingers in her lap. “What should I tell them…about you, I mean?”

  His boyish grin danced across his face. “Tell them the truth. I have a feeling nothing-but will do for you.”

  “I’ll tell them you saved my life…twice.”

  He cocked his head. “Are you always so loyal?”

  “I don’t know about that. If you’re telling me the truth, you don’t need to be locked up in a jail cell while the cops try to figure out your involvement and degree of culpability. Sometimes the cops aren’t too particular.”

  He squeezed her clenched hands with a firm grasp. “Don’t worry about me, beach girl. The cops aren’t going to find me.”

  She glanced at his large hand, brown from the sun, his calluses rough against her skin. “What are you, Riley?”

  “I told you before, the less you know, the better. This way you don’t have to lie to the cops.”

  She snorted. “I don’t mind lying to the cops if there’s a good reason. Where will you go after you drop me off? You’re not finished with those men, are you?”

  His mouth formed a thin line as he fumbled with Carlos’s built-in GPS. Amy sighed. She’d never know anything more about him than his name—and how his body felt against hers, shielding her, protecting her.

  “There’s a police station pretty close. I’ll drop you off down the block, watch you go inside, and then I’ll be out of your life.”

  She swallowed. “What are you going to do with Carlos’s car?”

  “I’ll leave it someplace where it can be recovered and returned to his…wife.” He raised one eyebrow. “How’d that happen anyway?”

  Hunching her shoulders, Amy clasped her hands between her knees. “I met him at the beach while I was working. We went out a few times from there. He came to my place a few times…”

  She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to waste her last few minutes with Riley talking about her train wreck of a love life. “You know, I never thanked you for saving me on the beach. And if you hadn’t come back with me to my house, that man outside with the gun could’ve killed me.”

  “It’s the least I could do.” He brushed his fingers along her arm. “I put you in danger by landing on your beach.”

  Every time Riley touched her, she felt a current of electricity run through her body. She’d better turn that off. This mysterious man would be disappearing from her life in a matter of minutes.

  She rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t look like you had much choice.”

  Drawing his brows together, he scratched his chin. “Yeah. I don’t know why they decided to anchor off the coast at that particular spot. But I plan to find out.”

  Amy’s heart galloped in her chest. Riley was a man who lived dangerously—and seemed to enjoy it. Just her type. She’d tried and tried to gravitate toward stable men with stable jobs, but it never seemed to work out. Carlos had his own import/export business, but he hadn’t turned out to be dependable either. Maybe her excitement radar had somehow picked up on that, too.

  The car slowed and Riley pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. “There’s the police station. I’ll watch from here until you’re safely inside.”

  Amy rubbed her tingling nose. Once she got rid of Riley she’d be safe. Wouldn’t she? She grabbed the door handle.

  His hand dropped to her shoulder, and she twisted around. He slid his fingers up to her throat, his eyes now a dark blue, clouding over like a stormy sea. Her pulse ticked wildly beneath his touch.

  “Be careful, beach girl.” Then he cupped the back of her head and drew her close, sealing his lips over hers.

  The quick kiss didn’t feel like goodbye. It felt like a protective stamp that she’d carry with her forever.

  She managed an inarticulate goodbye as she scrambled out of the car. Walking toward the police station, she didn’t dare turn around, even though she could feel Riley’s gaze searing her back.

  God, she hoped the police could help her, even though she didn’t trust them. She hoped for once they could reassure her and make her feel safe.

  As safe as she’d felt with Riley.

  RILEY EXHALED HIS PENT-UP breath as Amy swung open the glass door of the San Diego Sheriff’s Station and disappeared inside.

  Velasquez’s people murdered Carlos because they expected Riley to show up there with Amy. Why didn’t they just wait there? Why did they leave then return? Carlos must’ve upset their plans even though it didn’t look like the guy put up much of a fight.

  He rolled his shoulders and put the car in gear. Once Amy returned with the sheriff’s deputies, Velasquez’s men would realize Riley had taken flight. Then they’d leave Amy alone.

  They’d better leave Amy alone.

  He swung the sleek car back onto Imperial Beach Boulevard and accelerated toward the highway. He had to get back to that beach to find out why it had been such a strategic location for the Velasquez Cartel. The boat hadn’t moored off that coast and sent a diver in by accident.

  If the guy hadn’t spotted him and attacked him underwater, Riley could have surprised a meeting or interrupted a drop. Maybe their fight had scared off the contact on the beach.

  He smacked the leather steering wheel with the heels of his hands. He’d have to wait until morning anyway. The cops would most likely follow Amy back to the scene of the crime and light up that beach like a Christmas tree.

  Until they realized there was no evidence of a crime. No evidence. No crime.

  They’d find plenty of evidence at Amy’s house though. Really sucked for Carlos. Should be a warning to married men everywhere not to cheat.

  Although, after spending a few hours with Amy, he could understand the temptation Carlos had faced.

  A buzzing noise filled the c
ar, and Riley almost swerved into the next lane. Tilting his head, he determined the sound was coming from the backseat. Cell phone?

  He took the next exit and swung into an empty parking lot next to some train tracks. He unsnapped his seat belt, twisting in his seat. A small light glowed from the pocket of a jacket on the backseat. Riley reached over, slid his hand in the pocket and pulled out the cell phone, flashing Missed Call.

  The guy’s wife? He flipped open the phone and checked the display, which read Restricted. The caller hadn’t bothered to leave a voice mail or text message either.

  Riley glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He had to check in with the colonel. Might as well use Carlos’s phone before dumping it. He wouldn’t need it, and his wife probably wouldn’t care to see all those calls to Amy.

  The colonel picked up on the first ring.

  “Colonel, it’s Riley.”

  “Did you get anything from the lead on that boat?”

  “A couple of dead bodies. The boat dropped anchor off the coast near Imperial Beach and sent in a diver. Let’s just say we mixed it up a little before we reached the shore. He could’ve been meeting someone or scouting the location. I didn’t stick around to find out because his buddies started shooting at us.”

  “Us?”

  “There was a lifeguard on the beach.”

  The colonel swore. “Is he okay?”

  “She’s okay.” And then Riley reported what had occurred, taking full responsibility for the screwup.

  The colonel swore again. “You’re going to have to go back to that beach and figure out why it’s important to the Velasquez crew.”

  “Any more news about Jack?” Riley held his breath.

  “The CIA is calling him a traitor. They’re convinced he’s working for the other side.”

  Riley choked on his bitter rage. “That’s not possible. You know it and I know it.”

  “I know Jack Coburn’s name came up in chatter between the Velasquez Drug Cartel and an arms dealer in Colorado. Find out the link between those two, Riley, and we might be on the first step to finding Jack and proving his innocence.”